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Doctor! Doctor! It Doesn't Hurt When I Do That! - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Doctor! Doctor! It Doesn't Hurt When I Do That!
Both of us have been up today since well before (a very beautiful) sunrise. (We're missing the super blue blood moon due to cloud cover tonight:P)  Our PA, who Eleanor met when she worked at a nearby One Stop Doc practice, left them and joined a practice in a small village about 30 miles from here, and Eleanor, and eventually I, followed her out there.  She needed some followup on her various procedures and therapies, but for me it was just the annual checkup to be sure nothing's wrong.

So far, so good.  My weight is down (Eleanor's is even more than mine, in total pounds and percentage), the BP is holding steady, and my one brief TMI exam came out okay.  My visit ended with bloodwork, which I won't get results on for a few days, and it proved the most painful part of the visit even before the needle went in- partly due to me being their first patient of the day back there with an employee who took five times longer to turn on the computer and key in my info than the actual blood draw took, but more pain on account of having to read the sign they put on their counter:

Look! Down in the bucket! It's a stool! It's a smear! It's SPECIMAN!

Before that, though, I got some relieving news.  A few weeks ago, while doing chest presses or somesuch on a bench at the gym, one of the trainers came over and asked if I'd been diagnosed with a hernia or otherwise had something going on in the middle of my abs. Yeah, I'd noticed something odd during a random soak-the-pain-away bath sometime before that.  It looked like something was sticking out right above my belly button.  Now I know what it's called-  and Melissa called it exactly what I'd kinda predicted it was myself:

Oh, that. Your alien baby.

She did reveal the real term for it- diastasis recti.  And relieved any worry about it- totally benign, as long as it doesn't hurt (never has) and as long as I don't care about it showing up during exercise.  There are exercises you can do to strengthen that area and minimize it- and if I keep on a course to lose more weight, that might take care of some of it, as well.

Or I'll just give birth to the thing and be done with it:


We were both back home a little after 9, and my court-free workday went pretty well.  I settled a case with a plumbing company, and its owner, dropping the check off, gave me some free advice on a little problem we' ve been having with our bathtub faucet of late.  Last night, I had the genius idea to make a video of it- showing the water slowing to a trickle when you crank it all the way to the hot side, eventually improving after a few seconds.  Joel the Plumber quickly diagnosed it:  an alien baby.

No, not quite.  But I had no idea how these things actually worked, much less how to fix them when they get clogged with gunk or hard water deposits (both of which we have in abundance).  Here, the magic term is "balancing valve cartridge," 30 bucks or so at a hardware store, and this video shows you how to pop the old one out and the new one in.

We're going to tackle this over the weekend.  We just have to be careful- a few years ago, we were undertaking some kind of repair project in the bathroom, and our then-aging doorknob got stuck in the locked position with both of us in the loo unable to get it open. Fortunately, Emily was (or came) home, got the door open from the outside, and we were saved!  With her to be Virginia-bound by sometime tomorrow, we'll have to rely on the animals to rescue us.

As if.


Speaking of undertaking:

Somewhere on the drive home, we got talking about a local nursery which announced late last year that it's closing and going landscape-service-only. That reminded me of another odd change in the local business landscape: our closest branch of the town's library is next door to, and has a shared parking lot and driveway with, a funeral home.  There's been a FOR SALE sign out in front of the latter for months now, and someone in my office filled me in on the dirt behind the deal. (See what I did there?)

A few blocks from the library and funeral home is a local Italian restaurant, long-standing and very popular. We've had our office holiday lunches there for years.  The story goes that the owners wanted to buy the place from the landlord who owns much of that stretch of Main Street (including our office building) under some sort of option in their lease.  Landlord said no. The restaurant sued, and lost, and they then appealed and won- but apparently decided that they didn't want to buy the place after all.

Guess where they're moving?

I got riffing on how the owners could incorporate the history and tradition of the previous business into their concept:

Instead of starters on the menu, they can go with finishers.

An extensive selection "from the grill," and all entrees served with a side order of fries.

For those whose preferences lie elsewhere, the house salad with an embalmic vinegar dressing, and ground pepper over all pasta dishes.

No reservation? Stop over at the bar and have a stiff drink.  And stay for dessert, with your choice of baked Alaska or strawburies and cream. Or cremation, if you prefer.

Thanks. I'll be laid out all week. Try the alien baby.

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