Turkey Trot

This morning Sara and I did the AV Turkey Trot 5k.  In ONE HOUR.  One hour....which for you math geniuses is 3.0mph and the fastest I have walked so far.  When they sounded the starting bell, everyone took off running or walking at a fast past and we were, for a good half a mile, the last people.  I didn't care because I was happy to be outside, and slowly but surely Sara and I started passing people.  We were not the last people in, but I sure was contented with myself to have walked 3.0mph because that is a somewhat respectable pace.

This morning, poor Earl.  He got spooked by something in the hallway and cried for a half an hour before scrambling down to my doorway in a Scooby Doo-esque run, then he was afraid to come in my room and decided to live in the bathroom across the hall, until I went in to comb my hair and knocked the lotion bottle over onto him.  This guy can't win.  Something is out to get him in every room, but the living room.

I'm on vacation all this week.  It's a good thing because I know I'm going to need to spend lots of hours of my life on the phone with my doctor's office, Choice Medical and Blue Shield because despite my optimism that the doctor would say, "What?  You can't go back to the neurosurgeon?  Why that's some baloney, let's see how I can solve this problem for you."  What he said was, "Well, what would the neurosurgeon do exactly?  I'm not sure....well, you're telling me you're feeling better."  To which I said, "I don't know, I'm not the neurosurgeon, but I think he probably knows when he needs to see patients better than you or I." And "Well, in that case, I feel worse."  It was not a very positive reception.  And he said they'd call me by the end of Thursday so I would have an "answer either way."  I have had no such call.  There were tears Thursday morning.  PDub's namesake, Peggy, suggested I borrow their gun and go out to the desert and shoot things to make myself feel better.  She did specify that I should not go shoot the doctor, which I wasn't even considering anyways.

I don't know about the gun, though it might have been handy last week when Sara and I saw a Mojave Green on our walk.  He was not a happy camper.  I suppose if Sara or I had had a gun, we could have shot him.  As it was, we just screamed and got the heck away from him in case he tried to eat us whole in one swallow.