I’m so excited that Rory McIlroy won the Honda Classic last weekend and is now the world’s number one golfer! He’s just such a cute kid, and he doesn’t take himself too seriously. His Twitter bio reads: “I hit a little white ball around a field sometimes! Everywhere!!” And you usually won’t see his mom on the course next to his dad. She’s there, wherever he’s playing, but she doesn’t go out on the course because it makes her too nervous. I can so sympathize. I’d be somewhere nearby, pacing a path in front of the TV. But you know what annoyed the crap out of me? It’s Rory’s big day, he’s playing great, and the media coverage is all-Tiger, all-the-time. They were showing clips of Tiger playing at age fourteen near the end of the tournament on Sunday and I just wanted to scream. I’ve had enough of that self-absorbed, lying adulterer and can’t believe everyone else doesn’t feel the same way. I refuse to buy Nike because of Tiger. I think Nike should dump Tiger and sign Rory – he’s the sort of athlete they should want representing their brand.
The weather around here has been totally bizarre. Tornadoes, significant snow accumulation, twenty-something degrees in the morning and seventy-something in the afternoon. We spend some significant time in the basement tornado day. And by “we” I mean me, my thirteen-year-old, one very happy dog (because she’s not usually allowed in the basement) and one borderline psychotic dog (because he hates storms). There was death and devastation nearby, and we were very lucky to be passed over. Our only loss was a thumb drive I’d been writing on that day that I forgot to upload to Dropbox before heading to the basement. It was only a thousand words, but it was an important scene and I’d really worked hard on it, so hopefully it will turn up.
Neurosurgical update: X-rays indicate that my cervical spine is finally fused – YIPPEE! This means we can try the things my doctor said we couldn’t try for the pain until I was fully fused, so it’s very good news. He’s starting with anti-inflammatories, which kind of sounds like a BB gun when I want a bazooka, but I’m willing to play along. I see him again in two months unless the pain keeps up at its current miserable level, in which case I’ll call him in a couple of weeks and we’ll re-think this plan.
Anyone else watch Once Upon a Time Sunday nights? I love the premise, and it’s something we can watch together as a family, but last Sunday’s episode left me confused. Was there really a Stealthy dwarf? I don’t recall that one. It made me sad when Dreamy changed to Grumpy, but it was consistent with the storyline. What I didn’t get was the fairy’s dress. You know, the one with the skirt that looked like a jellyfish? Who put hallucinogenic mushrooms on the costume designer’s pizza that day? I thought I’d dozed off and woken up during a really bad episode of Project Runway. I could just see Tim Gunn standing there, one hand at his waist and the other covering his mouth in concern. Heidi would have been “Auf”ing that one for sure.
I wasn’t up for Mass over the weekend, so I went to noon Mass Monday. Usually that’s a good option for me when I’m not feeling up to par because it’s a much shorter Mass. This particular Monday, though, there was a funeral. On the cover of the funeral program was one of my favorite religious paintings, Madonna of the Streets. It was included because it was a painting the deceased woman always loved, and kept hanging over her piano. I had no idea what an interesting story was behind the painting, though. Did you know that the daughter of the woman who posed for that painting was a nun and didn’t realize the famous painting was of her mother and brother until late in her life? Yes, really. I’m in the process of putting it all together to post on Sunday – it’s fascinating.
John had his first-ever after-school detention Wednesday for talking in class. I never got a detention in school, but I know the ones given out way back in the stone age when I was in Middle School were for something more serious than talking in class. That’s his teacher’s reason, though. I have it in writing. Whatever. Unfortunately, he pulled out his phone between school and after-school detention to text me his grades (which were better than he’d expected) and as he walked into the detention room the teacher asked him if he’d been using his phone and he lied. Yep, so he managed to get into trouble in detention. Obviously I’m raising a juvenile delinquent. This probably wasn’t the best year for me to give up alcohol for Lent.
My accomplishment of the week was trimming Boss’s front toenails. Seriously, the dog has a major pedicure phobia. I gave him 5mg of valium, which only seemed to make him perkier, and then went after him with the resolve of a mother fresh from picking her son up from detention. He didn’t have a chance.
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