So great. I’m now, officially, the worst arm-wrestler in the family. It is almost a draw with Becca but I perceive that I would wear out sooner. Sad. Still, I will keep rowing that imaginary boat and lifting that imaginary Earth over my head, Atlas-style, at the community center. I just need bones. Bones are what I need. I suppose it’s not surprising that when you mix an ectomorph and a mesomorph you gets kids who are more mesomorphic than the ectomorph. But now, without further ado, I can quite honestly defer heavy-lifting jobs to whomsoever else happens to be handy, on the grounds that he/she is proven in clinical studies to be musclier.
Yay for the online health insurance apps. Seemed to go without a hitch. Jeff gets part D, and the rest of us have a cheapo (relatively speaking,) low-premium, monster deductible United Healthcare safety mat. I’m still voting Democrat, and I’m still hoping for something better.
In the good citizen department, I tried to donate blood today, at the Community Center. Hemoglobin, as measured by the little red gizmo, has to be 12.5. My first fingerstick turned up 11.5. “You want to try again?” asked the lady. “Sometimes it goes up” (for no apparent reason, I might add.) It did. To 12.0. So two stuck fingers later I was still a reject. I’ll try again in August.
In other news, I realize what’s bugging me. The world isn’t magic, and I wanted it to be. I was really kind of hoping for Yoda, or Clarence the wingless angel, or the celestial voice of Mufasa...or something. I might even accept a talking tub of margarine. I just hold a worn blanky of a myth that there should be further instructions, and there aren’t. Well, at least there’s coffee.
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