Pied Piper Plus Pesky Peccadilloes

I love alliterations too much, maybe because "hurl the hag headlong into hell" is my personal motto. Or maybe because they are just so much fun. Who knows? Who cares as long as one can get pleasure from them, and pleasure I do get from them.

Pied Piper

Yesterday I was playing Indy 500: Lawnmower Edition and enjoying it. The dogs always follow me around and bark to let everyone know, "She's mowing! I'm a dog and I'm barking! She's mowing! I'm a dog and I'm barking!" God forbid the neighbors not know I'm mowing. I'm sure they appreciate the dogs letting them know when I'm on the lawn mower and trying to tame the wild jungles of my yard. I'm used to the dogs following me, barking, dragging their toys and any big sticks they can find into my path, and pinching stinky loaves into my next swipe of lawn to be mowed. But yesterday their barking alerted a flock of barn swallows that decided they needed to join in on the fun. The swallows flew around me, dive bombing and circling like they were buzzards and I was the carrion. I looked around to see if a baby swallow was near and I was getting too close, but I didn't see any babies. I was mowing the ditches in front of our house with a flock of swallows circling me and the dogs running around barking at me, hoping no one would drive by -- vain hope, several people drove by to my extreme embarrassment. I felt like a messed up version of the pied piper, and if my pied-ing brings those kinds of animals to follow me, I'm going to leave my flute in the house next time I mow.


Pesky Peccadilloes

I saw my neurologist last week and have been stewing over our conversation since. She was unable to answer some of my questions to my satisfaction and wanted me to see the head of the MS clinic on my next visit because she felt that she would be able to answer my questions better. I do not want to see her on my next visit (the head, not my neurologist... although I'm not sure about that. They both irritate me.). I tried to be polite about it at first, "No, it's okay. I'm happy with your answers (blatant lie)." She kept insisting -- maybe she just wanted to avoid the 3rd degree and push me off onto someone else. She forced my hand so I had to say what I was trying not to say. I told her that I DO NOT like that woman because I do not like the way she talks to me, very condescending and patronizing, and I hate how she wears push up bras -- and she is not skinny in the least, so of course she has big boobs -- and low cut shirts. I am offended and find it very inappropriate to wear such things in a professional setting, but maybe I am just old fashioned.

I lost because my neuro failed to see how all that would change how that woman could help me. My neuro said that she has a "good head" for MS, and I said that I couldn't get past her ridiculously pushed-up-and-on-display boobs to find out whether that statement is true or not. She sails into the room, boobs first, and tells you what you are feeling is not what you are feeling and pooh-poohs what you have to say about it. I'm going to prepare for my visit with her by making a series of index cards with statements like, "You're not listening to me" and "That's not what I said" or even "Get thy boobs from out my face and thy pompous attitude out the door!" When I said this at my exercise class, my bestest friend there said that she believed that I would really do it and wanted to be told how it all plays out. I will let her and you know how it turns out because I have no intentions of losing and every intention of investing in a pack of index cards and a Sharpie pen. Boobs is going DOWN!