WWJD...

Well, it is the Lenten season again, and I’ve given up everything that tastes good. Just like last year, I’ve sworn off the following:

• All sweets


• Fried food


• Alcohol

I don’t partake in any of the above items that frequently, but find that giving up all three is very challenging. Chances are that I’ll crave one of the items at least once during the next forty days.

But less than 48 hours into my Lenten fast, I broke one of my three vows – I ate something fried!

Here’s the story:

I went out to lunch at a local Thai restaurant with two other museum professionals (for the sake of anonymity, let’s call them E&E). Both E&E wanted egg rolls, and the waitress/owner of restaurant (it is a small hole-in-the-wall) asked if I wanted one as well.

Me: “Oh, no thanks. Can I just have a spring roll instead?”

Waitress/Owner: “Why don’t you want an egg roll?”

Me: “I don’t eat pork, and would prefer something vegetarian.”

Waitress/Owner: “Tell you what. I am going to make you something - something very special. Something just for you.”

Me: “Okay.”

And She did make me something special: a vegetarian egg roll. A FRIED vegetarian egg roll.

Complicating matters even further, she presented the egg roll to me and said, “I am so excited! You let me know what you think, okay? It is a new recipe – just for you! I made it special order with no pork! It is completely vegetarian!”

And then she just stared at me - eagerly waiting for me to take the first bite.

...!!!

What was I supposed to do?!

So, I made the split decision to spare her feelings and eat the fried egg roll. And, for the record, it was good. Very good.

But I am left feeling guilty that I broke my vow.

Sigh. I guess I’ll extend my Lenten fast until 48 hours after Easter to make up for it. God will understand, right?!

Hardhat Zone…

The museum where I work is currently a hardhat zone, but only the Collections Department got to move offsite (Note: Archives = Priority; Administrative Staff = Expendable).

The rest of us have been left here to deal with gas leaks, brown water, dust, loud noises, bad smells and electrical failures. But at least we have bedazzled hardhats (take THAT Collections Department!). Or Nora does. Mine just has a few stickers.

I know all you metapeople are jealous…

Day two without coffee...

This is the color of the water that came out of tap at work yesterday.

Ew.

The Oscars...

Haskell: "And my red carpet is...where, exactly?!"

(Please note Haskell's black bow tie.)

I am...

...sleepy.

Beans, beans the musical fruit...

This afternoon finds me working from home.

Why?

Because there was a gas leak. We weren’t too concerned about it until we could smell gas back in the regular office area. Then, everyone started to panic (including the contractors), and it was promptly decided that we’d work from home for the rest of the day.

Sounds great, right?

Well, not so much. I got the information on how to access my work computer remotely after a brief (and I do mean BRIEF) crash course, but my computer freezes 3-5 minutes after I log in. This makes for exceptionally slow progress (not to mention frustrating). To say I’m not getting a lot done is an understatement. I barely have time to start anything before my computer freezes and I have to shut everything down.

Plus, it is a beautiful day outside – something I wouldn’t necessarily be aware of if I was at work. But at home, the day is beckoning to me to come outside and enjoy it. Especially now that I have discovered that remote log in seems to cause my computer great angst. If I only didn’t have so much to do, I’d totally bag today and start over tomorrow.

Stupid remote access…

Warning: Whiney Post Below…

I had another procedure done on my legs today, so I’m back in the d*mn support hose.

I spent most of the morning worrying about the procedure, because the doctor was going to check and see if any of my veins qualified for Phlebectomy (i.e. a fancy word meaning “going in and ripping veins out of your legs using nothing more than glorified tweezers”). I didn’t have any veins that qualified for the procedure this time last year, so I was hopeful the same would be true of today. And it was (well, sort of), so I’ve been spared from this kind of legalized torture for at least another year. Whew.

But I was worried. I hardly have any veins near the surface (all mine are deep within the leg, which is part of the problem). Although, after my last vein surgery in January, I have a couple of new “bulging” veins near my ankle that I feared might qualify for the Phlebectomy. And I was right. They do qualify. But – thanks to said surgery – I am still unable to feel a four inch long section on the inside of my left ankle. If they were to perform a Phlebectomy on the bulging veins in that area, I would be risking permanent nerve damage. So, everyone is hoping that the bulgers can be fixed with Sclerotherapy instead.

Even though Sclero is much less invasive than Phlebectomy, the doctor still won’t consider injecting the veins in my lower, left leg for another two weeks. This is primarily because of the nerve issue – even Sclero could present a risk. And to make the whole situation just that much more annoying, Sclero isn’t covered by my insurance company because so many women use it to treat cosmetic varicose and spider veins. Oh, how I wish I was doing all this for some sort of cosmetic benefit! And, for the record, the fact that I “am not even 30 years old, yet” should not be the reason why my insurance company refuses to pay for my support hose, but it is. Like it isn’t bad enough that I am cursed with the legs of a 70 year old at 28 – just rub it in some more, why don’t you?! I hate you, United Healthcare.

Since they couldn’t get to my left ankle, the evil Sclero woman (who really isn’t evil – only does evil things) decided to inject several of the veins on the top of my right foot. Which, I’m here to tell you, isn’t a pleasant experience. At all.

Grumble, grumble.

I want my mommy...

It looks like it is going to be a frosty Easter...

During a February 2007 thunderstorm, my aunt’s foreman, Ted (now deceased), made the following prediction:

“Thunder in February, frost in April.”

At the time, both RR and I found the central Texas weather prophecy to be a bit, well…corny. That is, until April rolled around and I received the following email:

From: Auntie Mimi
To: Deals
Subject: Thunder in February
Date: Sat, 7 Apr 2007 10:18

Please tell [RR] it is snowing in the Highland Park Village and sleeting in Lampasas with a wind chill of 24 degrees—you city folks have a lot to learn about predicting weather!
XXX
DQ

I only mention it because Dallas is currently under a tornado watch and the forecast for this evening looks like this:

I'm not putting my winter coat away until Mother's Day...

Gross Notes and Serenades...

I've always loved to sing. Even if I shouldn't...

The Grammy Awards were last night.

I didn't watch them, but part of me still wishes I had grown up to be a rock star (or at least some sort of musician). Of course, being a rock star (or musician for that matter) requires some sort of musical talent. And, somehow the fact that I can play "Mary had a little lamb", "Twinkle, twinkle little star" and "Mama's little babies" on my hands doesn't seem to cut it.

The music industry doesn’t know what it is missing.

If I were a cheese, I wouldn't be a day over "curd"...

“How young can you die of old age?”
- Steven Wright

For lunch today, I had a bowl of instant oatmeal. While I was waiting for the hot water to boil, I noticed that my oatmeal pouch was best before my next birthday.

This got me thinking: When was my “best before” date? Surely it was back before the valves in my legs started their long, slow road towards incompetency. This would put my physical peak back around my 24th birthday.

Sigh. And to think that I’ve still got a ways to go before the big 3-0. I'll probably be senile by then...