A busy morning already, and it’s only 7 a.m. Our dogs wake up at 5 a.m. and consequently so do we. We let them out to pee through the patio door in our bedroom. They do their business, circle around to the doggy door at the other end of the house and crawl back in bed with us, but not for long, breakfast time being a firm 6 a.m. Before making my way to the kitchen, I slip on a pair of Crocs and turn on the hall light in case one or more of them left an overnight surprise on the floor. This morning I forgot to turn on the light and somehow managed not to step in a puddle of puke in the hall, so that was good. Not so good, I bumped into Donna and dropped my morning cup, which shattered on the tile floor, coffee and shards everywhere.
The iMac updated overnight, resulting in a lengthy boot up. Finally able to read my email, I learned that a forgotten order of dog food from Chewy was about to ship, fortunately just in time to cancel it … we’re momentarily flush on dog food. Next I logged onto the VA website to see if they’d scheduled my requested Monday morning appointment. Nope. Oh well, it’s only Thursday, so they’ve got the rest of today and all day Friday to do it. Oh, and we’re going out for Mexican food with visiting friends Friday night, so I took a stab at making a reservation with opentable dot com, which instantly came back with No Way José. Which I should have anticipated, the annual El Tour de Tucson bicycle race being Saturday and riders from all over in town for it. I think anywhere we go Friday evening, we’ll have to wait in line.
On that VA Hospital appointment: I worked there in the early 2000s and although Donna and I have elected to get our medical care on the civilian market, am enrolled in the system. Vets can get hearing aids through the VA, something Medicare and military Tricare insurance does not cover. My tinnitus has become a constant screeching of cicadas in the background. Hearing aids can’t cure it, but I read somewhere they can help blank it out … something something white noise? There may not be anything to that, but I want to get a hearing test and learn about my options. The VA website lets you request appointments, and even shows open dates and times for the various clinics. I checked in on Friday the 15th, saw that the Audiology clinic had a morning opening on Monday the 25th, and booked it. Only you don’t really book anything … you request an open slot and then wait for them to schedule it, which so far they have not done.
It’s 8:30 now. Fritzi, Lulu, and I are back from a short walk, which I documented.
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Our friends Bill and Terri are in town, staying in their enormous trailer at the RV park on base. They came over yesterday for a visit and dinner (braised short ribs with new potatoes and green beans, Donna’s flan for dessert). We’re getting together again Friday afternoon on base (Donna and I want to check out their rig), then heading out together for the aforementioned waiting line at Guadalajara on Broadway … unless, that is, I can find another restaurant that has an open reservation. They leave for Texas on Saturday morning, right during El Tour, so we advised them to look up the race route and map a way out of town that won’t be blocked off.
I’m following the saga of the newly-elected trans woman Democratic representative from Delaware and Republican-led efforts to pass a bathroom bill before the next session kicks off, specifically aimed at keeping her from using women’s restrooms in the Capitol. The only trans person I know is the middle-aged woman who lives across the street, and that only barely, so I’m in no position to say anything about anything.* Nevertheless, I shall. Kids are one thing, but adults, especially those who transition late in life, must know they’re in for an uphill battle, especially when it comes to public restrooms, locker rooms, and sports. I mean, c’mon, what did you expect was gonna happen?
Related: I’m not sure what “queer” means any more. It used to be a slur for homosexual, but somehow rates its own initial in LGBTQ, which you’d think the L & G had covered. Unless I misunderstand completely, the meaning of queer now includes allies, sympathizers, asexuals, maybe even cis/het people who think they may be somewhere on the LGBT spectrum. Well, it’s not a slur I would use anyway, so who cares? Oddly, me … the curse of being an English major, I guess, and wanting words to have meanings.
Enough for one morning. Stay fresh, cheese bags!
*As for our neighbor, her coming out and transition was apparently a surprise to her wife and children, who are reportedly not pleased. I know we’re supposed to root for anyone finding his or her true self, but surely families and loved ones deserve sympathy and understanding?