Eclectic Mix

I don't know where the time is going! In the last three days I have become an Ebay merchandiser, watched more of Chelsea Lately and Chewie than I ever want to see again, taken care of grandson, made a trip to Mobile to see daughter and granddaughter, picked up prescriptions, received a letter from Met Life telling me that I was NOT a candidate for life insurance (awww, what's a little fibromyalgia - what? No doctor has EVER told me I had the fibro...what's that all about).

Gee, I can't wait until we get a nationalized database system listing all our medical records for these guys and who else. And since when did fibromyalgia become a fatal disease anyway - and chronic back pain - and, well, they did put COPD down - that's not a good one, but my health is so blasted good, perfect blood tests - dang, I guess I should investigate, would not want all that going into the national database, might make it a little hard to get employed. Especially since a pulmonary doctor told me his patients would only wish for lungs as good as mine. I almost feel like a victim of identity theft. Who me?

(By the way I see advantages to such a database, but really Americans are used to FREEDOM - it is scary the way our freedoms are decreasing, bit by bit - this to me seems a huge privacy issue.) I did sign a release - but not to send information I had never been informed of such as certain medical conditions.

So Met Life goes on to list several maladys reported to them by doctors that doctors have never told me I owned. Did they get someone else's records? Have doctors hidden diagnoses from me? If so, why? Is this a mystery that will end in material for a medical mystery novel?

What else. Church. Facebook, I am becoming a Facebook junkie. Oh yeh, and trying to clean "H's" spilled coffee out of the pale silver carpet. Exercising. Trimming bushes. (still).

I love my get up at a 6 a.m. routine and go to bed at 10:00 p.m. "H's" hours are killing me. My whole family seems to have days mixed up with nights and I feel as if I am being chased by a night vortex that wants to swallow me whole and turn my hormones upside down.

Ah, whine. I am thankful he is employed. I am thankful I can get out of bed by myself, I am thankful for a full life, full of people, and humming, thrumming life.

Ebay merchandising - oh my gosh - I have two emails wanting to know what a size 24W chest size would be and how long is such and such portion of the garment. Well, I google it and find out that it is like 50" of breast material and back. No wonder my cleavage never would end.

I wore a really low cut blouse to church today and lo, and behold, breast bone - no cleavage - ahhhhhhh - I LOVE it!!!! It is hard to be six foot two inches and do the church hug thing since most people's heads are perpendicular to my chest. I learned when men head for me, put my hand out quickly to shake hands - no boob squishing to their face, nope, none. I have always been way too suspcious of shorter men who ask me to dance. Ooops sorry, no squishy squishy now. "H" turned me on to why short men liked to dance with tall women, LOL!

Sorry, I'm in a weird mood. Maybe tired. Now that I know Met Life doesn't expect me to live very long, ah feeeeels weak. Just kidding. Getting ready for art party - need to find source material and art material and papers. Bye!