Another Medical Adventure

 Had a visit and checkup at the PCP's office this morning.  Due to the cold, the Raynaud's was very pronounced and ugly when I arrived. For some reason that became the primary focus of the visit.  It took a while to move the conversation back to the hands and spinal pain, but I got there gradually.

From his Medical book of Psalms, the doctor read "aloud" everything I already knew about Raynaud's then set about rearranging my meds.  Back when I was diagnosed, 40 years ago,  there were no treatments available. Today is different - maybe. New prescriptions ordered, but no pain meds for the back. New meds to help control  both Arthritis and Raynaud's syndrome. Arthritis is bad enough to deal with and this new regime (I hope) will help both. The cold, damp weather and the Raynaud's only adds misery to misery. I am to see him in a month to check that all is going according to plan. G*d Help Me!

Referral to Orthopedic specialist for the back situation was the last item addressed and I have an appt. with a specialist in 2 weeks for an evaluation and new x-rays; the last pictures are from 11/2008 when the accident occurred.

I am now in pretty much constant pain. Sleep is difficult, finding a comfortable position is a challenge. Lost 3 more pounds since last visit.  I know I am eating less.  There is no appetite when the pain is ever present.

All other vitals are normal.  Even BP was only slightly elevated, probably due to the stress and pain.

It's rainy, windy and cold today and I can't seem to get warm, even in layers. Cabbage & sausage soup will be supper tonight and that ought to take the chill out of my bones.

There is only one brief errand to run in the morning, then laundry will take up a few hours. After that, it's back to bed and my Kindle.

On the bright side, the taxes have been filed and I will receive refunds - Federal and State - this year. Unheard-of in years past. Maybe I will plan a getaway before the season begins.

And so it goes.
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Caturday Offer Can't be Refused

And so it goes.
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Oscar's Best Pictures

While I was laid up these past few days (and bored to tears) I decided to do a little research on the Oscars and Best Pictures. I made a list of all the Best Picture Winners. 

My love of movies hasn't diminished, but my tolerance of rude human behavior in movie theaters is at an all-time low.  People talking on cell phones, talking to their friends (as if they're in their living room, not in public) and no one in management present to ask them to stop or kick them out.

Anyway, Oscar (the other bald guy) is about to make his annual appearance on Sunday, so, here they are; from 2011 to the first in  1927/1928.  Those films I have seen are in boldface. How many have you seen?

2011 - "The Artist"
2010 - "The King's Speech"
2009 - "The Hurt Locker"
2008 - "Slumdog Millionaire"
2007 - "No Country for Old Men"
2006 - "The Departed"
2005 - "Crash"
2004 - "Million Dollar Baby"
2003 - "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King"
2002 - "Chicago"
2001 - "A Beautiful Mind"
2000 - "Gladiator"
1999 - "American Beauty"
1998 - "Shakespeare in Love"
1997 - "Titanic"
1996 - "The English Patient"
1995 - "Braveheart"
1994 - "Forrest Gump"
1993 - "Schindler’s List"
1992 - "Unforgiven"
1991 - "The Silence of the Lambs"
1990 - "Dances With Wolves"
1989 - "Driving Miss Daisy"
1988 - "Rain Man"
1987 - "The Last Emperor"
1986 - "Platoon"
1985 - "Out of Africa"
1984 - "Amadeus"
1983 - "Terms of Endearment"
1982 - "Gandhi"
1981 - "Chariots of Fire"
1980 - "Ordinary People"
1979 - "Kramer vs. Kramer"
1978 - "The Deer Hunter"
1977 - "Annie Hall"
1976 - "Rocky"
1975 - "One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest"
1974 - "The Godfather Part II"
1973 - "The Sting"
1972 - "The Godfather"
1971 - "The French Connection"
1970 - "Patton"
1969 - "Midnight Cowboy"
1968 - "Oliver!"
1967 - "In the Heat of the Night"
1966 - "A Man for All Seasons"
1965 - "The Sound of Music"
1964 - "My Fair Lady"
1963 - "Tom Jones"
1962 - "Lawrence of Arabia"
1961 - "West Side Story"
1960 - "The Apartment"
1959 - "Ben-Hur"
1958 - "Gigi"
1957 - "The Bridge on the River Kwai"
1956 - "Around the World in 80 Days"
1955 - "Marty"
1954 - "On the Waterfront"
1953 - "From Here to Eternity"
1952 - "The Greatest Show on Earth"
1951 - "An American in Paris"
1950 - "All About Eve"
1949 - "All the Kings Men"
1948 - "Hamlet"
1947 - "Gentleman's Agreement"
1946 - "The Best Years of Our Lives"
1945 - "The Lost Weekend"
1944 - "Going My Way"
1943 - "Casablanca"
1942 - "Mrs. Miniver"
1941 - "How Green Was My Valley"
1940 - "Rebecca"
1939 - "Gone with the Wind"
1938 - "You Can't Take It with You"
1937 - "The Life of Emile Zola"
1936 - "The Great Ziegfeld"
1935 - "Mutiny on the Bounty"
1934 - "It Happened One Night"
1932/1933 - "Cavalcade"
1931/1932 - "Grand Hotel"
1930/1931 - "Cimarron"
1929/1930 - "All Quiet on the Western Front"
1928/1929 - "The Broadway Melody"
1927/1928 - "Wings"

(Those on the list I haven't seen may be because they didn't appeal to me, or haven't had the opportunity to see them, yet.)

And the nominees for 2012 are:

Amour
Argo
Beasts of the Southern Wild
Django Unchained
Les Misérables
Life of Pi
Lincoln
Silver Linings Playbook
Zero Dark Thirty

And so it goes.
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85 Years of The Oscars

 Funny Oscar doesn't look that old.  Ah, Hollywood.

Olly Moss worked with the Academy and Gallery 1988 to create the official 85 Years of Oscars poster. This is just amazing. Each image represents the Oscar winning film for that year.  Click HERE (a direct link) to embiggen and  see how many you can recognize. Some are very subtle.

I'm preparing a post for the upcoming event. Hope to have it up tomorrow.

And so it goes.

New Kindle Ad - With a Twist

Gotta love Amazon.



Teh-heh.

And so it goes.
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Yesterday & Today. What a Difference.

Slept well last night and felt strong enough to run a few errands this morning, though getting into and out of the car was a bit uncomfortable. I managed.

It is a lovely day to be outdoors and I made the most of it. Took a drive up to the state park and walked out to the breakwater. Walking on sand wasn't as difficult as I first imagined. Sat for a while, taking in the sun and salt air.  Felt revived on the drive home.

Picked up a couple of bottles of wine, one will go with supper tonight. The menu will be pork tenderloin with roasted baby red potatoes and chard. I found a new recipe for the tenderloin and am anxious to try it.

The oven is set to  550' F.  The pork is placed in the lower third of the hot oven and baked at 5 to 6 minutes per pound. The oven is then turned off.  The meat continues to cook for another 40 minutes.  Seems the key is keeping the oven door closed - no peeking - and the roast should be medium, a little pink in the center when done. Sounds simple and no-brainer.

The recipe has good reviews, over 300 of them, so what have I got to lose? Don't worry, I always have a back up plan, JIC. If it turns out as planned, I'll post the recipe for anyone who wants to give it a try.

Obviously, the back is in better shape today. Still tender, I am being super careful not to lift, bend or twist in any way that might send me back to bed.

It's good to be back among the living. I hope I'll be even better tomorrow as I head back to work. It's about time for a festive as I fire up the oven.

And thanks for the comments and well wishes.

And so it goes.
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Stranded Dolphins Dragged Back to Sea

Dolphin pods have been stranding on beaches all over the planet, mostly uninhabited ones. This pod was fortunate to be rescued on beach where humans were sunbathing and knew what had to be done .  A very courageous act performed in swim trunks. This restores my faith in humanity, somewhat.



More later.
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Warning: Serving Trays May be Hazardous to Your Health

So, there I was hard at work Sunday afternoon (Presidents Day weekend) catering to large crowds in both dining room and bar area.  The place was packed with weekenders thankful for the beautiful weather after the sleet and snow of Saturday. 

All was running like clockwork with 8 servers and 2 bartenders and everyone is enjoying a good winter weekend at the beach.  What could be better?  Nothing, really.  What could go wrong?  Ha!  Glad you asked.  You DID ask, didn't you?

I had to visit the kitchen to alter a customer's food order and as I hurried back to my station and turned the corner to get back into my space, I smacked directly into an large, empty food serving tray that was left standing at an angle against the wall where I had to walk. It caught me, slid down the wall to the floor with half of my body-weight on it and as I struggled to remain upright and not sprawl across the dining room floor, my back twisted and snapped. Finally regained balance, but stars filled my eyes and I felt sick to my stomach. The pain was so intense I was shaking and sweating like a pig.  Fought against passing out.

If the boss had been there, that server would have been fired on the spot.  Nothing, NOTHING is to be left at the Host Station other than the Host, Menus, Telephone and Reservations terminal. That is one of the first rules taught to new servers, so there was no excuse.

I won't relate the conversation between the server and me; it makes me angry just thinking about it. Let me just say that he spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding me while I spent the rest of the afternoon in absolute agony.   I got precious little sleep that night (even the Flexeril didn't help) and had to drive to work yesterday because walking was too painful.

As the busy day wore on, the evening bartender arrived as a savior and handed me a painkiller. Upon downing that heaven-sent capsule I went back to work and tried as hard as I could not the let the pain show, though my strange walk was a dead give-away. It was stiff and zombie-ish, like there was a broomstick up my butt.

At 4 o'clock my relief arrived and as I prepared to leave, the GM Linda, presented a glass with the equivalent of 3 shots of Jameson's, instructed me to sip slowly, go home and go to bed. I drank standing up for fear that if I sat down I'd have great trouble getting up again.

The magic pill and Jameson's worked wonders and upon shedding the work drag I hit the bed and remember nothing til this morning. The pain is back again, though less intense. A good sign.

I may venture outdoors tomorrow, but today the plan calls for as little movement as possible. I must say, losing otherwise productive free days to this kind of situation is wearing on my gay nerves. There has to be some relief, somewhere.

And so it goes.
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Harryhausen: Father of Fantasy Film-making.

Having a day off and not in physical shape to go anywhere (the back again - a story for later, perhaps), I decided to do some investigating into certain people who made favourite films as far back as my early years.  I came across a few interesting articles, and this is one of the best. This man's concentration and magical touch mesmerized me then as his story does today.  From The Guardian:

Ownership of films is usually the preserve of directors and actors. You will hear of the new Paul Thomas Anderson movie, or the new Tom Cruise vehicle. But such films as The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, (1958), Jason and the Argonauts (1963)and Clash of the Titans (1981) are Ray Harryhausen films, regardless of who directed and acted in them. One Million Years BC, a film for which, unusually in his career, he was brought in as a hired hand, (1966) isn't even regarded as a Hammer or Raquel Welch movie. No other technician or artist working in film can make such a claim.
"Everyone has their own right way of doing things," explains Harryhausen, now aged 92. "I'd probably call myself a film-maker rather than just a special effects man. I'd often come up with the story, advise on the script, scout locations, design and sculpt the models. I'd have to be on the set to make sure the effects sequences were shot properly which was a problem for some directors – that never really got easier. And I'd do all the animation myself. It was just simpler to do all that myself than try to delgate."
As a result, all Harryhausen films have his personality, and his incredible craftsmanship, showing through them. I meet him in the Kensington house he and his wife Diana have shared since he moved his base of operations from Hollywood to Europe almost half a century ago. "I dread to think what it would cost now," he says. "We found out from some neighbours many years later that Michael Powell used to own this house. He had a pair of red shoes hanging in one of the windows."

 Harryhausen's home has no such external signs of its inhabitant's career. Inside there are few clues among the antique furniture. Until, that is, you take a closer look at the bronze sculptures on display. There is the Hindu goddess Kali, an allosaurus, some sword-wielding skeletons (a dead giveaway), Perseus and Medusa locked in deadly combat. "That one was used to show to studios when we were getting Clash of the Titans going," Harryhausen explains. It is common for artwork and even test footage to be used to generate interest in a film, but this is the first time I have heard of a piece of bronze being used to sell a project.

One of the most dramatic of his self-made ornaments is of a T-rex and King Kong. For Harryhausen it was Kong that started it all, back in 1933. "I had an aunt who took me to see a new movie she'd heard had gorillas and dinosaurs in, two things I was very much interested in." She took the 13-year-old Harryhausen to Grauman's Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard to see King Kong on its opening week in LA, a night filled with the sort of showmanship typical of the venue's owner Sid Grauman. The foyer was decorated in jungle style, and music and dance acts performed before the curtain went up for the film. With that set up followed by a film unlike any seen before the evening delivered the kind of sensory overload that beats things like 3-D and IMAX into a cocked hat. Harryhausen left the cinema with no idea how this lost world had been created, but he knew that he had to find out.
"I wasn't even looking to get into movies. I was a diorama kid at school, always making these little prehistoric scenes. Well, here was a way to make my dioramas move. I knew it wasn't a man in a suit. There was a magazine article that even had a picture of a life-size Kong with electrical leads running out of it. Even at that age I knew that couldn't be true. It wasn't like today: information was almost impossible to find." He pieced together what few facts he could and started making his own crude attempts with a home-movie camera.

The rest, as they say, is History.
Read the whole piece HERE.

And so it goes.
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So What if it Snows?

Promises, promises...

Forecasts for the past 3 days/nights have been carbon copies (anyone remember carbon paper?) calling for "rain turning to sleet, followed by snow til morning with 1 to 2 inches possible" and each morning I woke to a different reality.  Frustrating, to say the least.

Well, today started out exactly as the past 3 - with sunny skies and a light wind.  However, as the day wore on, the sky darkened, rain began to fall, and by the time I left work it was trying like Hell to change over to snow.  So far, not much success.  Looking out my window as night falls, there isn't much of anything going on outside.

The weather didn't dampen anyone's spirits and the restaurant and due to this week of Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday, and Valentine's Day, people were out all week long.  Today ends the Valentine Celebrations at DL so we were up to our eyeballs in hearts and fresh roses.  Each table received a fresh red rose while dining with us.  Yes, I know, "Awwwww"!

Lunch crowd was almost like a summer weekend.  We served almost 200 diners between 11:30 am and 4 pm. Many were first-timers, others came with regulars and everyone seemed to have a great time. Including me. Of course, by the time I waddled home I was exhausted and hungry. No time for a meal today. I managed to snag a short time for a few strawberries and an apple, and that's it.

Meanwhile I am snug at home with supper on the stove and a festive cocktail sitting on the table next to me.  To Hell with it all!  We'll see what tomorrow brings.

And so it goes.
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Caturday at the Office

Been there. Done that.

More later.
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A New Twist...

...in my Martini, Arthritis.

I spent both days off hovering near the bed and bathtub. Applying hot and cold compresses to various areas of the spine, taking hot Epsom Salts baths, and pretty much lying low.

No lifting, bending, squatting, reaching, etc.  No items on the to-do list were accomplished and there was little appetite to speak of.  Chewed Flexeril like candy (not really) and still the pain persisted.  Have had little sleep, which found me groggy this morning at work.

Then, about halfway through my opening procedures, my hands cramped and  seized up on me.  My thumbs made their way to the center of each palm  and were immobile.  I spent some time trying to spread hands out on the cool marble counter, but relief was momentary.  Took 2 flexeril and an aspirin and soaked the hands in hot water for a few minutes. The spasms continued under water for a while, but then subsided - I guess the flexeril kicked in by then.

My co-workers freaked out more than I (if that's possible) and were horrified by the bizarre look of my hands; frozen in place.  It was my job to calm them down.  Crazy, I know.

The doctor is on holiday; I was told to continue doing what I have been doing (without much success, btw); and I have appointment with him on the 26th. 

Meanwhile I am doing as little cooking as I can get away with.  Fortunately there are frozen containers from past cooking and I can live on those for a few days until this situation works itself out.

I am now going to immerse my face in a glass of Gin and olives before firing up the microwave.  Cheers.

And so it goes.
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Sackcloth and Ashes.

Don't bother to repent, the most sinful among us is running away  retiring at the end of the month. Alas, the party is still over. All good (and bad) things must come to an end.

At least til next year.

And so it goes.
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It's Not There Anymore.

While resting today (alternating between hot and cold compresses) I downloaded Google Earth and paid a visit to my childhood home in New Orleans.  Had no trouble finding the area - it was a pretty unique little enclave of small homes a block from Lake Pontchartrain and the old (now private) airport. The homes once served as housing for military officers during World War II and close to the military facilities on the other side of the Industrial Canal. 

My grandparents purchased their home from the government on June 23, 1945 and I was born on July 23, 1946. I lived in their home from age 5 to 16 when I moved to NYC. (If you click to embiggen and follow the arrow in the image almost directly down, you can just make out the small U-shape of the homes with another street located straight down the center.  A trident of sorts.)

The U is Curtis Drive that begins and ends on Haynes Blvd. Martin Drive was the center street and ended at the corner of our home and the stream that wound into the woods behind our house.  Martin  Drive now continues past the house and continues into the newer neighborhoods that replaced the woods. The area  known as "Little Woods" would later become New Orleans East. I prefer the former title.

I spent many a summer's day in that lake slowly bobbing around in an inner-tube (car tires used air-filled soft rubber tubes in those days, if one was punctured it was usually discarded. They would be patched and given to anyone who wanted one) or using the tube to hold a bushel basket while we caught crabs.

Individual summer camps - houses on pilons that jutted out into the lake - stretched for miles down the Haynes Blvd. coastline.  One such "camp" was owned by an aunt and uncle who lived further into town.  They would spend weekends and a few weeks at the camp, crabbing, fishing, shrimping and cooking up the most amazing fare you could ever imagine.I would spend days there enjoying the lake, birds, and of course, the food.

In my travels via Google Earth I discovered that all the camps are gone. The airport has been completely renovated to accept private planes, even small jets. There is a marina where I used to swim. When I found the little horseshoe shaped enclave I once called home, I zoomed in to get a better view of the homes there.   A few remain abandoned since Katrina, but most have been restored, enlarged and look to be well cared for.  Green lawns and even some trees.

Sadly, my own old home has been replaced by a red brick structure (house?) resembling a bunker or utility station. With windows high off the ground, 2 X 3' rectangles, and offering no view of the surrounding neighborhood, I wonder who would build such a fortress-like thing. Clearly, not "community" minded folks. 

I was saddened by viewing the surrounding neighborhoods that are still washed out and vacant. Schools, churches, even roadways in dis-repair.   All these years later, it is heartbreaking to think that this could be so.

While disturbing on so many levels, it gave me hope for the city and (at least for a while) took my mind off the back pain. I am left with only images, not what I have seen with my own eyes.  That is the next logical step. I need to visit to see for myself.

And so it goes.
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Agony

I did something really, profoundly stupid last weekend. My back was already tender and sensitive from lugging heavy bags of groceries up to the apartment and, brilliant as I am, decided  to flip and turn the mattress and change the sheets.

The mattress is flipped and turned every 3 months; the sheets are changed every 4 or 5 days, and the grocery shopping is done weekly. I've never before done all 3 in 2 consecutive days off.  I will never do it again, either. I've learned a terrible lesson and paying dearly for it.

I've been suffering for 5 days and sleepless nights and nothing offers much relief. So, today I am sticking close to, or in bed, the rest of the chores and errands be damned.

The neighborhood is quiet.  The neighbors are, as well.  Resting and reading are the order of the day. Originally, I had planned to check out a new local po-boy & creole restaurant not far from here to celebrate Mardi Gras, but that's out of the question. The place is usually closed Tuesdays & Wednesdays, but they are going to open just for this event. Sorry I can't make it, I'd be too miserable to enjoy the company or food.  Especially if both were good.

That said, the Kindle is fully charged (currently reading Drew Brees' book); there's plenty of green tea and honey, and milk to make hot chocolate.  Not hungry. The thought of food makes me go whoopsy in the belly.  Pain will do that to me.  Don't know why, just does.

And so it goes.
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Happy Mardi Gras, Y'all.

More later.
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Super Sunny Caturday

And we thank you very much. We dodged another weather bullet here.

More later,
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Intelligence Failures? Really?

We have such short memories.  Thanks. Hillary.

And so it goes.
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Putting a Good Face on Richard lll

Last month I posted a piece about the find and subsequent battles over Richard III's remains and ultimate resting place.  Well, today the story goes one better.  Apparently there is much hand-wringing and historical unease about these old bones and the legends they spawned.  The Guardian has been all over this story like a bad suit. The historians are in a tizzy and there appears to be no end in sight. Here is the latest.

The face of a thin-lipped, bright-eyed man, with a truculent jaw ready to confront whatever bad news comes next, has been recreated from the male skull discovered under a Leicester car park, newly confirmed as the last Plantagenet king, Richard III.
The monarch was only 32 when he died on the Bosworth battlefield on 22 August 1485, but the reconstructed face appears much younger. He may not live up to the crook-backed psychopath of Shakespeare's Tudor propaganda, but he does look a tough character not to be trifled with.
The face was reconstructed from detailed scans of the skull by Caroline Wilkinson, professor of craniofacial identification at Dundee University, who has worked on many modern forensic cases. She did the initial work blind, without consulting contemporary descriptions or images. The skin colour and texture, eyes and hair were then added by Janice Aitken, of the university's art college.
The head was commissioned by the Richard III Society, and was unveiled at the Society of Antiquaries of London, which owns one of the oldest portraits of Richard, painted like the one in the National Portrait Gallery in Tudor times, but assumed to draw on a Plantagenet original. Since the bones can give no clue to hair and eye colouring, Aitken used the portraits for the final details, but based the stubbled ruddy cheeks on observation of 21st century men who spend a lot of time outdoors.
The head was unveiled by Phil Stone, chair of the society, as "His Grace Richard Plantagenet, king of England, France and lord of Ireland". Sarah Levitt, head of Leicester's museums, called it "a stunning object", which will be one of the star exhibits in the new visitor centre due to open next year, in an old school building overlooking the find site.

 Seriously, they had me with "a truculent jaw" imagery.

A bit of the Bard (also in question):

KING RICHARD III:
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
CATESBY:
Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse.

And so it (inevitably) goes.
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A Stupid Bowl Party

Please note: the media hype the week leading up to the BIG event made me homesick. There was my hometown - the good, bad, and ugly - on display and it was clear (even without sound on the TVs) that a good time was being had by all. Hospitality is my town's middle name. I could almost smell the food and taste the humidity in the air. I hope to visit sometime soon.

That said, just as I was winding down from the long hours and Polar Bear Plunge on Sunday, one of my neighbors decided to have a few friends over for a Stupid Bowl party. And party they did.

Though they were restrained as I went to bed and drifted into a deep sleep,by the end of Half-Time (yes, I could hear Beyonce from their house) they were a rowdy bunch, indeed. These are straight folks, BTW.

Clearly elated by the Ravens win, they partied long into the night.  It was after 2 AM when things finally quieted down and I was able to grab a few hours of unsettled sleep, punctuated with bad dreams. No, I won't go there.

To say that I dragged my butt all day Monday would be an understatement. Of course the diehard fans who stayed over after the plunge and Stupid Bowl chose the restaurant for lunch before heading back to their caves. To be fair, we're one of only a handful of good restaurants open for lunch on week days. The fast food joints out on the highway are mostly for the tourists.  At least the brisk business kept me awake on on my toes until my shift ended.

On the bright side, I met 2 guys who moved to the area recently. They've been together over 30 years, just retired, sold their big house in Maryland are now full time residents. We seemed to hit it off right away.  They're very nice, smart, laugh easily and have a wicked sensahumah. We exchanged phone numbers and I warned them about the obscene hours I work during the season.  I hope we can break bread together in the near future.  While they love DL and good food, they know few other local eateries and this would be a chance to visit some of my faves with new friends.

Thankfully, the neighborhood was quiet as I got in and made a hasty bit of leftover soup and salad for supper. I watched a Cousteau documentary on YouTube, took a fast shower and was under the covers by 8:30.  Believe it, or not.  I slept like a stone until - - - SEVEN O'CLOCK this morning.  Yes.  Me!

I decided that today would be a good day to do nothing much outdoors, so I worked on the taxes, listened to music, downloaded a couple of books to the Kindle, and even put fresh sheets on the bed. I shall sleep well again, tonight.  

Tomorrow is another day.  Now, where have I heard that line before?

And so it goes.
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I See Crazy People: 2013 Polar Bear Plunge!

Enough said.

I had to be in to work at 7:30 am to get set up and rolling for a 9:30 opening to serve a special Polar Bear Brunch to all the crazy folks who jump into the ocean in support of the Special Olympics.  I know. I know.

Between 9:30 and Noon we served 110 brunches to plungers (?) of every shape, size, and age; from 8 to 83!  No kidding.

There was then a brief 45 minutes between the pre-plunge brunch diners (say that fast 3 times!), and the post-plunge lunch/dinner diners who watched, cheered on, and held large towels for the more than 3,500 good sports who actually slid into the frigid 37' F water. So, from about 1:30 til 3:30 we served a steady stream of another (cold and wet) 100, or more.

On a positive note I was told the water was warmer and calmer than in previous years.  Yes, I find that quite comforting, indeed!  Not.  Who cares about that when you won't see your balls for the next 48 hours?

As my shift was ending, the Super Bowl crazies began to arrive and claim their reserved tables. (In these parts purple was all the rage - Ravens colors - and just about everything on the bodies was that color, even their hair - the visible hair, that is.) After helping to get them settled in, I bolted for the door and walked home. On the way I started to feel light-headed, dizzy, and then it hit me that I had nothing in my stomach since my morning egg and toast, at 6 am! I ought to have had oatmeal, but didn't, for some reason.  I don't know why.

Feeling so tired (and hungry) I almost settled for leftovers, but decided to do something pretty easy.  Roasted chicken and roasted new potatoes, with a salad. Supper is in the oven and I just made a festive cocktail.  Three olives, no waiting!

Tomorrow is my Friday and I am looking forward to the following two days off. Of course, with my luck, it will snow or rain on one or both days.

Well, Cheers!

And so it goes.

Elegant Caturday

I don't think he'll be invited back.

And so it goes.
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