Thursday, February 14, 2008

Holy Week

Happy Birthday to my sister Dorothy, February 13... Happy Anniversary to her and her Husband Michael today (Valentine's Day, how precious...) aaaaand Happy Birthday to Michael, February 15. Really. God seemed to plan most of this, and they took the initiative on the rest, good for them. Keeping everything neat and organized (and a killer way to remember her birthday and your anniversary, fellas) they declare the week that these events take place Holy Week. Stranger, much more ironic things have happened with my family concerning birth dates, but that I'll get to later in what promises to be a rather emotional post.

But speaking of holy, or more appropriately holes, I just had one scraped out of my underarm in the process of removing a rather unpleasant lesion. Not that such things are ever pleasant, but if it weren't for Novocain, I and a certain student physician would be side-by-side in traction right now at the local hospital. What an odd sensation, having someone probe your underarm with an exact-o-knife and not feeling a thing; especially when it's an area that is very sensitive in your body. I was very tempted to lean over and see what she was slicing out, but thought very much better of it. After all, if you happen to look at the time this article was posted, you'll see that I'm not taking this all that well, even with the medication. That and the neighbors with their elephantine parades above our apartment (with surround-sound home theatre so everyone on the block can know they have one) has made this a rather unbearable time off from steady work on productions. I'm contemplating packing up and moving to L.A. where most of the action is, but I've got to save up for home + car first. Oh, and acquire a first-hand knowledge of L.A. and its surrounding fiefdom.

I'm hoping that I can manifest a good ten grand somehow in the next two or three months, either through hard work or dumb luck, I'm good with either one. Good bye student loans, hello health insurance! Oh, and a much quieter place to live.

Quiet like my sister's place? I like to call CT Connectdadots, because well, that's kinda what it's like. Anyone who's driven from Pawling, NY to New Milford to Roxbury to Southbury and all the other burys in Connectdadots knows exactly what I mean. They have a place that always reminds me of a resort in the middle of the woods, with a huge, but cute Golden Doodle and a huge, but cute cat, both youthful and full of life. Since they consider each other brother and sister, it's obviously a sign of the apocalypse, but at least I can get some sleep there. I just hope they don't mind me being in a drug-induced stupor if I were to make my way up there sometime soon. Alas, it is Holy Week, so the outside world (that's me!) will have to wait. So I'll stay awake for another as the dull throbbing in my right arm and shoulder remind me of the student physician's careful, surgical invasion of a (formerly) erogenous zone, followed by a lightning-quick evisceration and obliteration of the enemy by her wise commander (with owies all around). Happy Valentine's Day! >;)

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