In Which A Doofus Makes Himself Known In The Colonoscopy Waiting Area

Screen Shot 2016-06-21 at 7.11.17 AMAS IF MY LIFE is not exciting enough, I had the pleasure of escorting Zen-Den, at 6:00 a.m., to the hospital for a routine colonoscopy.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been the Colonoscopy Escort, but your duties are simple:

  1. Get the [snarly and grouchy] patient to hospital at assigned time.
  2. Wait by yourself in the Colonoscopy Waiting Area while patient is checked-in.
  3. When receptionist tells you it’s okay, go sit with the patient in Pre-Op Area until patient is rolled away for procedure.
  4. Go back out to Colonoscopy Waiting Area and wait.
  5. After procedure go sit with patient in Post-Op Area until he or she is released back into the wild.
  6. Take [ravenously hungry] patient home and feed + water him or her.

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AS PER DUTY #4 I was sitting in the Colonoscopy Waiting Area, playing games on my iPad, waiting, when the receptionist called out the name of someone’s Colonoscopy Escort.

No one in the waiting area responded.

She said the name again.

*crickets*

The receptionist got up from her desk and walked around the Colonoscopy Waiting Area, quietly asking each of us if we were this someone’s Colonoscopy Escort, until she eventually got to a 40-something man with his face buried in his laptop computer.

Standing directly in front of him she said his name again, loudly, and he finally looked up at her.

By now everyone in the Colonoscopy Waiting Area was staring at him, because human beings are nosy, and because waiting is boring so anything out of the ordinary is entertainment.

She told him he could go back and wait with the patient, DUTY #3, to which he said: “WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO DO THAT?”

And immediately went back to looking at his laptop.

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Screen Shot 2016-06-20 at 5.06.03 PMTHE RECEPTIONIST WAS IRRITATED, but shrugged and went back to her desk.

However, the rest of us, the cooperative Colonoscopy Escorts, started sending hate glances toward this guy.  While an adorable 80-something lady with silver white hair went a step further by looking over the top of her bejeweled reading glasses, and loudly *tsking-tsking* in his general direction.

Somehow that particular sound got this guy’s attention and he looked up to see all of us glaring at him, shaking our heads at his obvious Colonoscopy Escort faux pas.

So with a noisy *sigh* he snapped his laptop shut and trudged over to the receptionist’s desk, ready to be taken to sit with someone who had the misfortune of knowing this man well enough to ask him to be his or her Colonoscopy Escort.

Can you even imagine?  0.o

{ Images |1| |2| |3| from Pixabay }

K Is For Klondike Bar, Kinda Clever

Screen Shot 2016-03-21 at 10.54.11 AM“What would you do for a Klondike bar?”

These lyrics are from a TV commercial jingle that is embedded in my brain.  Permanently.

Yours, too?

In fact, when I started musing on the letter “K” for this challenge, the first thing that came to my mind was Klondike Bar, which got me thinking about how I know many TV commercial jingles from memory.

You, too?

It’s annoying, yet hilarious, to realize that instead of keeping track of important adult stuff, my old brain chooses to retain a weird assortment of lyrics and tunes, learned in my childhood while watching the idiot box [aka the TV].

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• I’m sure this realization would upset me more, if I wasn’t so darned happy when singing the Oscar Mayer Bologna Song.

“My bologna has a first name, it’s O-S-C-A-R…”

• OR awkwardly singing and dancing along to the Dr. Pepper commercial.

“Us peppers are an interesting breed, an original taste is what we need… Be a Pepper…”

• OR belting out a soulful rendition of the Enjoli perfume commercial.

“I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never let you forget that you’re a man… ‘Cause I’m a woman…”

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All of which brings me to this very important question:

How many TV commercial jingles do you, my gentle readers, remember by heart?  You may confess in the comments below.

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The Squirrel Days Of Winter

I stepped out onto our deck to enjoy the fresh air and clear skies. I wasn’t thinking about much of anything when I sensed that I wasn’t alone.

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I looked up into the trees that form our backyard and guess who was up there waving hello?  None other than your friend and mine, Fuzzy the Squirrel.

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He looked to be in good shape.  I’m figuring he’s around at least 5 years old, which is pretty old for a squirrel who lives in the wild, if you can call our backyard the wild.

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I did notice that while he was twisting around to tidy up his fur, he was hanging tough on his tree branch, not even bothering to give me a second glance.

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He seemed to be content to just sit up there, not barking or doing much of anything.  I’ve never seen him so calm and Zen-like.

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So I took a few photos of him, watched him as he dozed off to sleep– and couldn’t help but wonder how much longer my blog posts will be featuring Fuzzy the Squirrel.  [Read more about him here.]

Yoga Lessons Revisited: She Like To Move It, Move It

I’ve stretched my body more lately.  To make my joints more flexible, my alignment more comfortable, my muscles more toned.  Doing yoga asanas, that is.  Or my middle-aged out-of-shape reinterpretation of them.

It’s been a little over 10 years since I stopped going to yoga classes on a regular basis.

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LESSON #1

“Keep on meeting the edge.”

~ said Kathy, who moved away from the city to live on an organic farm

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I had always enjoyed taking yoga classes, but my favorite instructors, who each had her own way of explaining life on and off the mat, stopped teaching.

The only woman I could find who did not do hot yoga, which I think is nuts, was more about selling her book and CDs than teaching yoga.  She was quite the personality kid, which annoyed me.

So I stopped attending her classes, thinking I’d continue my practice on my own.

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LESSON #2

“When in doubt, don’t.”

~ said Donna, who got a newspaper byline and is living her dream of being a writer

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But you know how things like that go.  Procrastination + laziness took over– and eventually the idea of daily yoga practice floated out of my monkey mind.

However, this fall I acknowledged that I’m getting older and that I’m beginning to walk more THUNK * THUNK * THUNK than flow * flow * flow.  Which is to say my daily walks are morphing into daily moseys because I’m going slower and slower.

Re-enter daily yoga practice.

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LESSON #3

“Well isn’t that interesting?”

~ said Cathy, who had a hip replacement then decided to retire with her husband to somewhere warm

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I’ve yet to commit to a specific time and place for my stretching, but if memory serves, back years ago when I was really into yoga, I used the late afternoon as my practice time… which I suppose I could do again.

And that, my gentle readers, is what’s up with me today in my quest to age gracefully + not keel over by the side of the road.

Ever onward, I say.  Each of us moving forward in our own way.

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“Fizz-a-cally-fit, Fizz-a-cally-fit…”

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