UPDATE/NO UPDATE

So here's a report on the state of play in Modern Medicine.

Sometimes it feels like the medicos are just playing but then when we are sick or hurt we all want instant gratification.

So, as I reported yesterday, our daughter . . currently known here as the BAD or Beautiful Artistic Daughter . . took a tumble coming out of an appointment and broke a bone in or around the elbow of her left arm.

She points out that she was sober at the time.

I point out that her left arm is her dominant arm.

She is seriously left-handed.

And she's an artist!

But she went to a hospital emergency room and got splinted and taped and her arm looked like this.

Then yesterday she got a new binding and this is the result.

That apparatus looks like it was put on her in Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory!

(She, incidentally, still looks beautiful.)

She's currently waiting to be scheduled for a CT scan, also known as a CAT scan.

(Seems appropriate for a Cat Lady.)

That's to determine what method of treatment will best be used to heal her arm.

Could be surgery.

Could just be keeping that wicked looking brace on and letting it heal by itself.

So, at this point, four days after her accident, she still doesn't know, and she doesn't know when she'll know.

It's a very frustrating ordeal.

But she's a fairly patient lady.

As long as the pain pills hold out.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Well, it's Friday again.

(It's actually Thursday when I'm compiling these but don't tell anyone.)

I hope your week has been good and nobody arraigned on your parade.  😉

It's been quiet around here, other than doctor and lab visits.

Oh, and the BAD fell and broke her elbow.

She was coming out of a hospice appointment (she volunteers) when she missed a step and took a tumble.

Fortunately it was her left arm.

Oh, no, wait.

She's left-handed!

But her spirits are good and she'll get through this.

Gawd willing.

And speaking of the Supreme Deity (if you believe in him/her) . . .

And, as always, that's it, folks.

It's over.

But overall, have yourselves an ostentatiosly optimistic oddly observant and omnicompetently oceanic weekend.

In other words, be okey-dokey.

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(oh-oh)

STEREOTYPICALLY SPEAKING

 I read an article the other day sent to me by my pal Tom over in California about asking A.I. (that's Artificial Intelligence) to design typical residents of each state.

So, just for fun, I went to Microsoft's A.I. Image Generator and asked it to create a stereotypical Arizonan to see what I'd get.

And here it is.

Yeah, that kind of looks typical.

So then, again just for fun, I asked for a stereotypical Californian.

This guy's stare seems a little more vacant.

So then, just for laughs, I asked them to do a cartoon version.

And here's what I got for, first of all,  the Arizonan and secondly the Californian.

Seems like A.I. can do a pretty decent job with stereotypes.

What do you think?

WERE YOU TALKIN' ABOUT ME? HUH?

 Having read all of your comments on yesterday's post, I decided to read them to Sweety-Pie and see if she would change her attitude and/or habits.

Here was her reaction.

"Did I give you permission to talk about me in your stupid blog?

Well?

Did I?"

As you can undoubtedly tell, neither my nor your comments had a tad of effect on her.

So we shall live with what, as YP noted, we have created.

Coincidentally, I received the following photo from one of our grandchildren this morning.

The latest addition to (as I unfeelingly call it) her menagerie or zoo.

She and her hubby share their abode with several dogs and a pot-bellied pig.

And now a cat.

There may be others of which I am presently unaware.

As the BAD says, "Christy is a pet-whisperer."

CAT CONDUCT

 

Our cat, Sweetie-Pie, does this.

She'll sit and stare into SWMBO's face for a very long time.

Finally, the lady will give up and feed her.

Our spoiled little b . . . lovely sweet cat will only eat seafood Shreds out of cans most of the time.

SWMBO has learned that if she ignores the cat pleas for long enough, S.P. will take a rare bite or two of dry food that is always there at her dining spot.

When either one of us goes into the kitchen for whatever reason, S.P. follows joyously, sure that she is going to be fed.

Again.

And she has an irritating habit of waking Judy at 4 o'clock in the morning, demanding her huge breakfast.

Judy has taken to ignoring her and I have taken to rising between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. to feed her and allow the mistress a few more minutes of uninterrupted sleep.

I've usually had enough sleep by that time anyway and it's time to start my day.

So I don't mind.

Except.

Sweetie-Pie jumped up on my bed and woke me at 3:30 THIS MORNING!

I ignored her until she came back around 4 and tried again.

This time I reached out, put my hand on her back and held her down.

Gently.

She apparently took the hint and went to sleep.

But finally, responding to demands voiced in her quiet but insistent murmurs, I rose a little before 6 and fed her.

Once satisfying her ravenous appetite, she goes back into SWMBO's room and curls up for a nap on the foot of her bed.

I would swear that I've read that cats can sleep 18 to 20 hours out of every 24.

Apparently Sweetie-Pie never got that message.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

It's not the season for wheezin'.

That was Spring Hay Fever time.

And it's not the season for freezin'.

That's Winter, aka William Kendall's favorite.

So maybe it's the season for breezin'.

As in breezin' right into today's bufoonery.

Yes, let's do that.

There they are: The Trekkies!

And you know what that means.

It means we're bringing a close to this Friday's flippancy.

Now, Gentle Readers, I would be most pleased if you would do your utmost to have a wonderful weekend.

Do you know how to start?

It's simple.

Always remember to keep laughing!

That ought to get you there.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

HEADGEAR

Some years ago when I was employed in my final job in a television newsroom, I decided that Friday would be Hat Day.

I began wearing a different hat from my extensive collection all day each Friday and soon others in the newsroom chimed in with their own.

It was silly.

It was fun.

It caused conversation.

It was Friday, the end of the week.

Now I offer up cartoons on Fridays so I can not continue Friday Hat Day.

But I can give you an idea of what it was like and show you how I have had affection for hats my whole entire life.

It started in my youth.

My extreme youth.

My mother made the early costumes.

A majician, complete with cape and top hat

Prince Charming, for some school play

A melancholy conventioneer, on the set of "Hello, Dolly" in Hollywood

A happy hippie, cruising Indiana in his MGB

Weird, that I should don such a hat, but it was hot in Phoenix

But still a formal portrait was taken there, for a Christmas card

And a less formal portrait, for a Halloween party

The Beaner and Timmer with us in Grand Junction

waiting for the train back to Denver

Where we got crazy

Don't laugh at this one

That's a Stetson, bought in Dallas

Celebrating New Year's Eve in Guadalajara

Watching the sunset in Puerto Vallarta

Austin, Texas - in a sailor cap???

Visiting California, in a different one

Stylin', at the edge of the Grand Canyon

Getting older now, at a friend's Memorial Service

But still a Dapper Dan

Or an old cowpoke

Or a pseudo Frenchman

Or someone hiding from the law

Still trying for that elusive tan

But is he a pirate?

Or just Bad Santa?

Only the hat can tell for sure.

Happy Hat Day!