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Conorama

Expounding on Nothing

Impartial Observer

 
Mr. B wore his shorts backward today. Didn't notice until we were already at the bank in the Palisades and he was doing an acrobatic contortion trick on the waiting room chairs. Pockets going the wrong way, bare feet where your head is supposed to be, the teller looking at me like "I N T E R E S T I N G", me giving Mr. B the signal for quiet mouth (wishing they had lollipops of mints or something!), and finally exiting in a loud exuberant outpouring of "C" is for Cookie, that's good enough for me . . . . ". Of course, we are only at the bank to get Mr. B's father a cashier's check to move into his new apartment on the beach.

 
To top it off at the doctor's office, it appears that I have shrunk a quarter of an inch. ?? !! ?? I am now officially five feet one and a quarter inches short. My sister on the other hand, claims that she has grown. How is this possible I ask? So far, no answer forthcoming. I am completely embrangled.

 
I told the nurse practitioner TWICE that I have really, really small veins. I should know, I've have a gazillion IV's. She just smiled that condescending smile that indicates that she thinks that I'm a big chicken shit. Anyway, there she goes with a big ass needle diving right on in to my arm and completely goes in one side of the vein and out the other. (ouch). She backs it up a little, attaches the vacuum, and VOILA ! Nothing. I looked her straight in the eye and sent her a hateful mental message that she was most likely up against the wall of the vein, after which she wiggled the needle around and eventually got three vials of dark red blood. She commented calmly that the spillage of blood inside my arm would probably leave a bruise. Duh. Fortunately, the urine sample was much easier.

 
The only thing larger than Van Exel's ego is Shaq's belly. Van Exel should be punished for having such an annoying ego by having to stand under Shaq while he tries in vain to get into better shape before next season. Van Exel would be drenched in the big man's sweat for hours, then thrown out to the dogs. Yes, that seems perfectly reasonable.

 
So, the good doctor thinks that I'm having a lot of trouble with my allergies: food, environmental, and otherwise. So it looks like I'll have to go back on the food elimination diet and see if that helps any. Wish me luck as I forage the local markets for buffalo, ostrich, peas, broccoli, coconut, duck, macadamia nuts, quinoa, radishes, rhubarb, venison and watermelon. Oh, and I can also have octopus. Yum.

 
Many butterflies seen today: monarchs, red admirals, buckeyes, painted ladies, cabbage whites, julias, zebra longwings, white peacocks, and more. Went to the Pavillion of Wings at the Natural History Museum. Even mankind can create a vibrant ecosystem to host butterflies feasting on the nectar of lantanas, cosmos, and marigolds. Felt like a five year old all over again.

 
Mr. B is a wild man. He drinks one huge drink of raw foods mixed with organic soy milk and organic cherry juice, nordic fish oils, liquid multi-vitamins, digestive aids, detox formulas, and organic bee pollen. He chases that with Frito Lay Cheese Puffs.

 
SITTING ON MY TABLE: laptop computer, printer, palm pilot cradle, twelve early education computer games (4 of which have no case), eleven paintbrushes, one artbox with glue, markers, scissors and pencils, two receipts from bills paid, one file folder marked "Surya Texas", one pile of extraneous papers, one thesaurus, one guidebook for "Silly6Pins Bowling Game", two naked GI Joes, one telephone, one mold report, one lone Playmobile figure wearing white pants, white shirt, blue tie, grey jacket, and eyes averted to the side, one candle holder with no candle, and finally, one cool glass of San Pellegrino. All sitting on a plastic table cloth lined with felt. Mr. B is happy.

 
If San Antonio wins, I am definitely cheering for the Nets. I cannot stand Duncan. Period. (sorry mom).

 
Another reason to move from this damned building: those black crows that NEVER stop crowing and cawing, taunting anyone and anything within earshot. How is a person supposed to meditate with all that crow racket going on? Crow Racket! Crowket!! Cracket!!!

 
Well, back from Mission Bay in San Diego. Sea life experienced was limited to barking sea lions, begging for bait off of the fishing boats at 5:45 in the morning. My hotel room door did have a mermaid on it, which made it more inviting of course. Learned new healing techniques: working with cords, plus alchemical transformation. Very powerful. Human beings are fascinating aren't they?