No Post Today

I'm having a very bad day; motivation to do anything beyond fighting for my next breath is seriously lacking.  But I'm still here.

Just a Lil Too Close

So, there I was, goin' through the overnight mail when I stumble upon this:

I suppose timing is everything in life, eh?

A Few Things For a Monday

First, a funny:

Heh.  Occasional Reader and Constant Correspondent Lin sent that along.

We watched us some football this weekend... on SATURDAY, of course... and the games were pretty danged good.  The big news in college ball is the playoff picture, which looks like this:

The No. 1 Crimson Tide will face the No. 4 Buckeyes in the Allstate Sugar Bowl, and the second-seeded Ducks will face the third-seeded Seminoles in the Rose Bowl presented by Northwestern Mutual, both on New Year's Day.

I'll bet the air turned blue in Waco and Fort Worth when the playoff selections were announced.  Both the Bears and the Horned Frogs have their points, TCU more than Baylor, to my way o' thinkin'.  But it is what it is... and what it is is GOOD.  The smart money will be on Bama to win the whole shootin' match but, speaking as a guy who doesn't have a dog in this fight, I'd like to see Oregon go all the way.  Watching Marcus Mariota has been a pure joy this season; he's quite possibly the most exciting player in all of college ball this year.

Meg Griffin

In other news... My teevee provider is Dish Network and has been ever since I moved into Casa Inmóvil de Pennington, lo these three-plus years ago.  I discovered last night through the majik of fat-fingering a channel selection that Dish provides a full complement of Sirius/XM stations, previously (and obviously) unknown to me.  What this means is I can now listen to the lovely Meg Griffin in the comfort of home as well as when I'm in The Tart.  This is a great good thing.  Ms. Griffin's music selections are positively outstanding, part and parcel of that bein' she seems to choose music for airplay that resides in my CD rack.  You can't beat that with a stick.


In other, other news... (Whine alert)  The end game of my affliction is proving to be much more difficult than I imagined.  My meds just don't seem to work like they used to, I've spent the last three nights sleeping sitting up on the couch because I don't breathe well laying down, and I spend the first 30 minutes of EVERY morning gasping for breath in what resembles a low-level state of panic while I wait for the meds to kick in, giving me some small measure of relief.  I don't know how much more of this I can take.  It's well and truly depressing.

It's Come To This

We're just in from a run out to Cannon Airplane Patch to pick up the monthly meds and do a major commissary run (major = >$100.00).  In so doing we took our very first ride in a conveyance similar to what you see on the right.  You have no ideer how much it hurt me to break down and do that, but our breathing capacity is such that we get out of breath simply walking from room to room these days... on oxygen.  So: It was a motorized shopping cart for us today and I'll admit it made the shopping thing a LOT more pleasurable than the last few times I've been to the store.

The shopping might have been a piece of cake but unloading the car and humping groceries into the house was a minor production.  No worries, we just sat our tired ol' ass down for a couple o' three minutes in between trips, caught our breath, and went back to bid'niz; four trips from car to kitchen and we were done.  The bottom line is we just have to take things a lot slower than we used to do.  (This is where we usually put that ol' "It's always sumthin'!" phrase.)

OK.  I'm done unburdening.  The chores are done and it's a lovely day out on the verandah.  I DO believe I hear a beer calling me.  Or two.

One Foot In the Grave

I had to journey over to The Big(ger) City^TM for a follow-up appointment with an ear, nose, and throat specialist earlier today; last month the specialist diagnosed me with a deviated septum caused by being on full time oxygen.  There was good news and bad news today; the good news is the ointment he prescribed for me resulted in "definite improvement," but... Well, here's kinda-sorta what he said (we're paraphrasing): "If you were in your 20s we could fix this surgically, but at your age..."  There was more to it than that, of course, but I had to chuckle at the age remark.

I think I'll go online and look for funerary urns.

Panic In Portales!

Well, no... not really.  Just concern.  I'm just in from a visit to my doctor and was asked the following questions during check-in:

Have you traveled to West Africa lately?

Have you had contact with anyone who might have Ebola?

Negative on both counts, Ma'am... and did our gub'mint mandate you ask these questions?  "No," sez she, "but our management did."  "Well, now," sez I.  "How interesting."

So we did our bid'niz with the lovely Dr. Erika Garcia and got a referral to an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist over in  The Big(ger) City^TM.  We have some sort of stubborn issue with one of our nostrils which involves a growth that resists antibiotic ointment and weeps a very small amount o' blood when I apply the meds.  Cue the "It's always sumthin'" chorus.

Oh yeah.  We also got a flu shot AND a pneumonia shot.  The flu shot was painless but that pneumonia shot HURT.  I have no ideer what's in the P-vaccine but it stung the bejeezus outta me.

Beer me!

Yeah, That'll Do It

The comments on this twit-pic are pretty interesting.

In other news... we're still waiting for the other shoe to drop when it comes to the current physical affliction.  I spent nearly the entire day yesterday on the couch but did manage to find an hour to knock back a couple o' beers in the late afternoon.  The back pain seems to be receding (we felt fine when we rolled out this morning, back-wise) but the sore throat is still there.  I'm simply hoping against hope that this is NOT the flu, which could be life threatening... and I do NOT exaggerate a whit... given my COPD.

Say WHAT?

Ah, the grand exit gesture.  Sorta.  The anchor-lady's response was about as nonplussed as I've ever seen on teevee, but she did manage to get out an apology.

In other news... Yesterday was a total fail.  I woke up yesterday morning with back pains of the annoying sort, which is to say not terribly painful or debilitating, just

irritating.  So I did what any normal person might do, which was to take a couple o' Bayer Back and Body aspirins along with the morning's first cup and a vitamin.  I should have known better... 30 minutes later I was in the bathroom giving the aspirins and that first cup up to The Porcelain God.  We then dosed ourfineself with Pink Stuff and turned to the couch for an hour or two to let the nausea slip away, hopefully.  That almost worked but another dose o' Pink Stuff and about three more hours o' couch time did the trick.  I didn't really get semi-right until about 2100 hrs last evening, at which time I went to bed.  It should go without sayin' that yesterday was one one of those VERY rare days, a day in which we were alcohol-free.  No beer, no whiskey... none at all.  We just weren't up to the challenge, so to speak.  No cigar, either.

So, today.  Same back pain upon awakening with an added, no-extra-charge sore throat.  This is beginning to look like the onset o' the flu, an event I could GLADLY do without.  I don't "do" sick very well at all and I'm certainly not ready for this... if it's what I think it is.

Aches and Pains

I feel like someone snuck into the house last night and beat the HELL outta me while I was sleeping.  It's kinda like this:

Seriously.  My neck, back, and legs are just not right today.  We don't complain a lot around these parts, but this krep has put me off my feed.

Sláinte!

Well, now.  This is rare: "The Truth We Won’t Admit: Drinking Is Healthy."  A few excerpts:

Not discussing the beneficial impact of alcohol on heart disease has been a systematic policy of the U.S. public health establishment, one example of which is the Framingham Study. The National Institutes of Health, which funded the Framingham research, forbad Harvard epidemiologist Carl Seltzer from publishing this finding, he later revealed. Why? NIH’s reasoning, published in a 1972 memo, still pervades American thinking:

The encouragement of undertaking drinking with the implication of prevention of coronary heart disease would be scientifically misleading and socially undesirable in view of the major health problem of alcoholism that already exists in the country.

Flash forward to 2011, when the 2010 Dietary Guidelines for Americans were finally released by the Department of Agriculture and HHS. One reason for their delayed publication was the uproar raised by public health organizations to the Guidelines’ alcohol committee’s report of “strong evidence” that moderate drinking prevents heart disease, and the “moderate evidence” that it prevents dementia. Such battles are old hat: Similar campaigns against mentioning alcohol’s health benefits are mounted every five years when the Guidelines threaten to include them, starting with South Carolina senator and teetotaler Strom Thurmond’s strenuous objections to the 1995 edition.

Epidemiological study after study (that is, research tracing drinkers, their consumption, and their life outcomes) produces consistent findings—there are now hundreds of such studies. But whenever any sort of research can be teased out to suggest drinking is bad for you, it will be put on full display to confuse the picture.

The whole article is worth the time you'll spend to read it.  There's one important caveat, however: not everyone should drink.  My mother was an alcoholic and it killed her, quite literally.  I've seen the damage alcohol can do to a person's life and to the alcoholic's loved ones and it's not pretty, believe me.  If I had to give thanks for one single thing in my life it would be that the alcoholism trait went missing in my genetic make-up (and that of my children, too).  Otherwise?  I believe I'm the beneficiary of alcohol's prophylactic effects.  My doctor agrees with me, sayin' my "numbers" are so good I'd prolly live to be 100.  If I could only breathe.

Sláinte!

Pissing Contest

We haz one.  I sent this off to the Mediscare folks today...

So, here's me, blissfully cruising along through life with my spiffy lil portable oxygen generator until two weeks ago when that referenced "Summary Notice" from Mediscare showed up in my snail-mail box.  I have more than a few issues here, first and foremost being the non-payment for my O₂ machine; the second being the fact I wasn't informed of the non-payment issue when it first began, with the bureaucrats waiting over six months to inform me via a "summary notice;" and the third being the date of the summary notice versus the date I actually RECEIVED the damned thing.  I'm not exactly a Happy Camper at the moment.

Oh, well.  We took the shot across our bow and replied in kind.  I had to go see my doctor last week to obtain copies of all the communications in this CF and the strange thing?  She was NOT surprised, in the least, and was slightly amused that I was.  I have to give props to American HomePatient for leaving my machine alone in the face of non-payment.  One wonders how long that will last.

It's always sumthin'.

"Ugly, Ugly, Ugly"

So sez Barry Melrose about Team Russia's early exit in the Olympic hockey tournament in a video clip available here.  A quote from that article (which is a good read and sings the praises of Datsyuk, among others.  It ain't ALL bad.):

As the buzzer sounded Wednesday after the 3-1 quarterfinal loss to Finland, Ovechkin skated toward the bench, staring seemingly into space, no doubt wishing he could be anywhere but here.

He had let his country down. In this, his Olympics.

"It sucks. That's all I can say," Ovechkin said afterward.

Asked what his emotions were, he answered: "No emotion right now."

Sidney Crosby got the golden goal in his Olympics four years ago. Alex Ovechkin was the golden goat in his.

Wow.  Double-wow.  We'll be seein' fallout from this miserable series for a long, long time.  As I said elsewhere: I ALMOST feel sorry for those guys.  Almost.

So.  Hockey Day In Portales is over and two out of the three teams I was rooting for won.  Team USA spanked the Czechs, 5-2 and I switched over from that game after the Americans went up 5-1 in the third period to watch the Canadians get the living HELL scared out of 'em.  Canada was playing Latvia... Latvia!... in their quarter-final game and eventually won, 2-1.  That game was a near-run thing if I've ever seen one, with the score tied until mid-way into the third period when the Canadians got the go-ahead goal on a power play... by yet another defenseman.  The Latvians never gave up, however, and the outcome was in doubt until the final seconds.  Mr. Babcock just HAS to be tearing' his hair out over that one, because what should have been a cakewalk... wasn't.  By any stretch o' the imagination.

It will be USA-Canada and Sweden-Finland in the semi-finals that will be played the day after tomorrow.  Both games should be excellent and I won't dare miss either one.  But right now?  I'm goin' down and try to recover from (a) the excitement and (b) some sort o' sinus affliction that came over me about two hours ago.  We're definitely a lil bit left o' center and the water-works in my head are just killin' me.  The couch calls...

Randomness

There's this, for starters...

This is one of those issues where I've not quite made up my mind, or perhaps I don't quite know what to believe.  Eavesdropping on EVERYONE would be damned hard to do and there would be very little return on what would have to be a significant investment.  OTOH, the Fourth Amendment* implications... based upon what's been reported... are significant and scary.  I'm still enough of a rosy-eyed optimist that I think the accusations against the NSA are exaggerated.  It's the DEGREE of exaggeration I'm wonderin' about.

The WX still sucks...

... but the forecast is MUCH better, in that there's no snow in our immediate future.  Hopefully.  We'll get a slight warm-up on Sunday, too.  Huzzah.

Old age and infirmity are making further inroads here at El Casa Inmóvil de Pennington.  I've always been a reasonably slow starter in the mornings, requiring at least ONE cup o' coffee before I could be described as Fully Mission Capable, and that translates into about 20 minutes after I roll outta bed.  It takes a lot longer now, which is to say at least an hour or sometimes more.  The Reader's Digest version is my back... which isn't getting any better and is somewhat worse... so now I have to wait until the aspirin kicks in, along with the caffeine.  I'm not one to whine (a lot), but damn!  This shit is getting OLD.

* The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Random Notes

Didja change yer clocks last night?  Well, I fell back this morning.  And kept falling, too... given the fact I didn't roll outta bed until noon, Standard Time.  There's a reason: that bein' my ongoing fight with my lower back and right now my lower back holds the upper hand, to kinda-sorta mix a metaphor.  Stayin' flat on my back on my warm, cozy, and very comfortable Tempurpedic mattress is much more desirable than rolling out to pain, at the moment.  

I thought the other shoe had well and truly dropped on Friday evening... I was bent over quite far attending to a matter of personal hygiene (trimming my toenails, if you must) and when I went to straighten up I found that I could not.  Well, I actually could straighten up but the excruciating pain made the effort a lil more trouble than it was worth.  After about five minutes or so we finally straightened up, hobbled off in search of aspirin (swallowing three), retrieved the heating pad from the bedroom, and ensconced our-self on the couch, where we remained for more than a few hours.

Yesterday was pretty much more of the same, except for the fact the combination of the heating pad and a regular dosing regimen of aspirin took the edge off enough to make life bearable.  And there's no change today, which means I just MIGHT get off my old sorry ass and seek medical attention tomorrow, if only for the muscle relaxants that would be in it.

To repeat the mantra: It's always sumthin'.

History... here's what we were on about five years ago on this date:

Monday, November 03, 2008

This and That

Flavia Nasini is an owner of A Tutta Birra, a shop in Milan that stocks many of Italy's great craft beers, as well as rare brews from around Europe. (Photo: Dave Yoder for The New York Times)

When you think of Europe and beer in the same space, most people think “Germany.” A few will think “England” (including YrHmblScrb), and the cognoscenti immediately think “Belgium!” But beer and Italy? You might think that’s a non-starter, as I did. If so, you need to read “Savoring Italy, One Beer at a Time.” Excerpts (Ed: the link is good, BTW):

We celebrated our arrival with a couple of the brewery’s pilsner-style beers, a ubiquitous, often-overlooked style that Birrificio Italiano’s brewmaster, Agostino Arioli, has attempted to redeem with hoppier, more flavorful versions, traveling to Germany to select his own hops.

As we sipped our lagers, commenting on their vibrant bitterness, a jazz band set up on the pub’s small stage, beginning to play just as our appetizers arrived: a plate of poppy-seed toast with rich toma cheese and a sticky, gooey beer jelly, accompanied by a glass of the brewery’s Scires, a wine-like strong ale flavored with local cherries. Our main courses quickly followed: a chunky, inch-and-a-half-thick pork chop, and scottata alla piastra, a plate of paper-thin grilled pork fillets, both of which were marinated in the brewery’s malty Bibock ale, which made an excellent accompaniment. The same flavors showed up in our shared dessert: a panna cotta made extra sweet and slightly bitter with a dose of Bibock, which combined perfectly with the light dusting of chocolate on the pudding’s top.

As I finished the meal, I found myself thinking: If this is what Italy’s craft beers are like, they can keep the wines.

I keep finding reasons to renew my passport, and this is one of the best I’ve seen lately. Some of the descriptions of the food and drink in this article literally made my mouth water. The article also made me wish I lived in a place with good liquor stores, as well. I’d like to sample a few of the beers named in the article but that’s not even remotely possible here on The High Plains of New Mexico, where Bud, Miller, and Coors rule the roost… such as it is. Well, with the possible exception of the Class VI store out at Cannon Airplane Patch. Thank God for small favors.

―:☺:―

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery… or however that saying goes. And in the hockey world, the Red Wings are drawing their share of flattery, beginning with the league-leading (at the moment) San Jose Sharks (“New-look Sharks out-Winging their opponents early on in season”). A few excerpts from the linked story:

The reverberations of the 2007 Stanley Cup victory of the Anaheim Ducks, it is fair to say, are still being felt.

The Ducks partially brawled their way to that title, and last season much of the Western Conference added muscle with which to confront Anaheim.

[…]

The Detroit Red Wings, needless to say, proved there was another way last season, riding skill, speed and Tre Kronor power to an impressive Stanley Cup title. The Wings hardly fought at all, didn't carry an enforcer and roared through the postseason.

That left the San Jose Sharks, to name one team, in a bit of a conundrum.

Follow the Ducks or follow the Wings?

Simply being the Sharks, after all, wouldn't do. That had become synonymous with strong regular seasons -- 418 points in four seasons -- and disappointing playoff pratfalls.

Well, for better or worse, the Sharks chose to imitate the Wings.

In fact, beating the Red Wings 4-2 in Silicon Valley on Thursday night boosted the Sharks to 9-2 on the season, the best start in San Jose franchise history. It was a game that came on the heels of an impressive win over the Eastern Conference defending champs from Pittsburgh, in which Sidney Crosby and Co. were held to just 11 shots by the stingy Sharks defense.

The Wings, it's fair to say, left town thinking they'd just played themselves.

[…]

"Not only are they the Stanley Cup champs," said San Jose winger Ryane Clowe. "But we stole their assistant coach."

That, of course, is the most concrete evidence that San Jose plotted to copy Detroit this season. Detroit assistant coach Todd McLellan was hired by the Sharks to replace the fired Ron Wilson, who was canned somewhat reluctantly by Doug Wilson and was immediately snapped up by the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Well, hiring Detroit’s assistant coach certainly goes a long way towards implementing the Wings’ style, doesn’t it? The Sharks have been an impressive regular season team these past few years, yet have consistently failed to advance beyond the second round of the playoffs, come spring. This year might be a different story… and as noted above they’re certainly beginning the season with an impressive showing.

Yeah, it’s early days and a LOT can happen between now and the playoffs. And a lot can happen DURING the playoffs, as well. As Damien Cox says in his closing sentences: “It looks great now. When it comes to the spring, however, it will be a lot tougher to out-Wing the Wings.”

Word.

Note the post title... a variation on random notes.  As far as that last bit on the Sharks goes... it's a classic case o' plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.  The Sharks are off to another great start this year but have continued to fall apart in the playoffs, what with losing to the Kings in the second round of last year's playoffs (to continue the trend).  To be a Sharks fan is not QUITE as bad as bein' a Cubbies fan (who are the very definition of "long-suffering" in the sports world), but it's CLOSE.  Mebbe this year.  I wouldn't mind seein' a Wings - Sharks Stanley Cup Final... not at ALL.

Life Is Still Interesting

I intimated life could get a lot more "interesting" exactly a month ago today.  Well, things haven't changed one way or the other in a month's time: my back still hurts but the pain is neither lessening nor worsening, it's just there, all the damned time.  I suppose I should be grateful for the fact it's not getting worse, but this crap is beginning to wear me down... or it's making it hard for me to roll out of bed every morning, at the very least.  The only person or persons benefiting from this shi'ite are the kind folks at Bayer AG, whose "Bayer Back and Body" formulation is wonderful stuff.

Yeah, I know: bitch, bitch, bitch.  Alternately: It's always sumthin'.

Life Might Could Get More "Interesting" Soon

I put "interesting" in scare quotes because I'm using it in the sense of that ol' Chinese curse: to wit: "May you live in interesting times."

It was a lil over 15 years ago I experienced a herniated disc in my lower back, an event that ultimately required surgery and six months of physical therapy rehabilitation, said rehab employing a regimen I truly believe was devised by Torquemada during the Spanish Inquisition.  Ever since that time... which I refer to as "The Year of Intense Pain"... I wince and go into "oh, no... not again!" paroxysms of fear whenever I experience lower back pain.  This has been the case for a solid week now, a week wherein we've been nursing lower back pain that simply will NOT go away.  A couple of Aleves take the edge off of the pain but nothing I do eliminates it altogether.  The worse part of the pain is the accompanying shooting pain in my legs, which I recognize as being symptomatic of disc problems.

The Second Mrs. Pennington was still with me when I went through that ordeal 15 years ago, or at least she was with me for the worst part of it, which was the surgery and the first six weeks of recovery.  I dread the thought of goin' through a similar experience all by myself and, truth be told, I have NO ideer how I'd be able to cope without some sort of assistance.  So we're sittin' here and hopin' our worst fears aren't realized.  I AM beginning to wonder, though.  A week is a long time to go through this sorta shi'ite; I would have thought we'd be outta the woods by now.

It's always sumthin'.

In the Mail and a Minor Rant, Of Sorts

My Buddy Ed In Florida sends along the following...

Heh.

My Buddy Tim at Cigar.com sent along these beauties...

That would be a box o' Macanudo Gold Label sticks, in the Gold Star size... which is a substantial 6 inches long with a 64 ring gauge diameter, which is also to say FAT.  The cigars are mild and easy smoking which is a change from my normal preference for robust sticks.  A very nice change of pace, actually, and the sticks burn evenly and draw easy.  I like 'em.

So... I'm all stocked up on cigars for my trip, which looked like it might not happen at the rate things were going.  My oxygen brouhaha remains an open issue, with my current provider wanting to provide oxygen tanks but apparently not a portable concentrator.  Tanks are unacceptable... I do NOT want to be dragging around a tank on a cart where ever I go and I do not want to have three or four of the damned things cluttering up my house.  Unacceptable.

I made my third follow-up call to the company this morning and was told the local branch only has two portable concentrators in this area, one of which is in Plainview and won't be available until this coming Monday.  The reason for this is "the company is rather stingy with portable concentrators since Medicare doesn't pay that much for their use."  (That's a direct quote.)  I find that rather remarkable, seeing as how this company bills Medicare $350.00 EACH MONTH to provide one of these:

That's the exact same model I've been using for over three years.  Medicare doesn't pay this company the full amount they bill, of course, but the company does receive $174.52 from Medicare and TriCare EACH MONTH.  That's a grand total of over $6900.00 in rental payments since I've been on night time oxygen... for a machine that retails for $750.00.

Portable concentrators cost anywhere from $2495.00 to over $6,000.00 so I see my provider's point: it would be hard to gouge the gub'mint in an equally egregious manner for a pricey portable concentrator.  I mean, Hell, what's a bid'niz gotta do to make outrageous profits these days?

It's always sumthin'.

I Should Buy a Lottery Ticket

I'm just in from a run out to Cannon Airplane Patch, where we re-stocked the likker locker, the freezer, the larder, and gassed up The Dowager Tart.  At no time did I wait in line... I walked right up to the registers and drove right up to the gas pump.

This sorta thing NEVER happens to me.  Well, hardly ever.

In other news... it looks like I'm gonna have to postpone my trip back east.  The Death Panels are still deliberating about my full-time oxygen situation and I have to go back to RGH tomorrow for further testing, coz the Panels require documentation, dontcha know.

I had a conversation with SN1 last evening and my inner eight-year-old took over when I told him I was still leaving this coming Monday, O₂ or not.  My adult is in charge today and HE doesn't think it would be too terribly smart to go away for two or three weeks without the oxygen.

It's always sumthin'.  But about that lottery ticket...

Dreams

The drug in question on my messy desktop.

I've had this post percolating in the back o' my mind for some time now but haven't done anythang with it until now.  Just to set the stage... it came to pass about four months ago that I was having trouble falling asleep in the evenings (or early mornings, you choose), unless my Ol' Ass was parked in front o' the teevee, at which time sleep came all TOO easily.  I'd retire to my bedchambers, turn out the lights and toss and turn for what seemed like hours before sleep came.  So I decided to purchase what you see above: a potion called "Sleep," by an outfit called NatureMade.  The "all-natural" bits consist primarily o' melatonin and L-theanine and the good news is the stuff seems to work.  I've been taking one of these pills before bedtime for about four months now and have no trouble falling asleep any longer.

But the better news is my dreams have become a LOT more interesting and vivid (but NOT vivid like this).  I'm 99.4% certain the pills are the cause o' this phenomenon and I'm also 99.4% certain my better dreams are the reason I'm still taking this stuff.  Hell, my dreams are like an E-ticket ride at Disneyland these days and I'm not gonna give up "Sleep" anytime soon.

So what prompted this?  Well, I read this post by that other Old AF Sarge today.  My dreams are pretty good, but I can't hold a candle to his.  Mebbe I'll up my dosage.

Heh

I prefer the former state to the latter state, except for the fact I DON'T feel like crap.  I feel perfectly fine.  Well, sorta.

There's this about that... we were awakened at oh-dark-thirty this morning, twice.  Once by a message from SN1 at 0452 hrs (precisely, coz the mePhone would NOT let me ignore it, what with beeping until I accessed said message) and again at 0835 hrs by a call from a nice person at Roosevelt General to update me on my request for full-time oxygen, which has fallen victim to the MediScare bureaucracy.  I may have to go back to the clinic for another series of tests to verify I cannot breathe properly in order to satisfy the Death Panels.  Or they may just let me slowly expire... one never knows.

So, we gave up trying to sleep after the call from RGH, rolled our ol' ass outta bed, tossed down a couple o' cups, showered, and journeyed out to Cannon Airplane Patch to run a few errands.  In the course o' doin' so I was politely (yes, politely) requested by the Airman on the gate to "slow it down a little when approaching the gate."  Which kinda shocked me, given as how one has to slalom through a series of concrete barriers in order to actually GET to the gate.  I've always looked at those barriers as a sort of challenge... kinda like a gymkhana... the object bein' to get through them as quickly as possible without pranging the sheet metal.  It turns out the skycops take a rather dim view of my exhibition of driving skill in this space.  So we smiled, said "Yessir, yessir, three bags full, sir" and were on our merry way.

It's always sumthin'.