Thursday, May 14, 2009

thursday...best night of the week

The weather is gorgeous tonight and we had to go to Mankato so I could get a haircut. We managed, however, to miss the bi-weekly lawn mowing in a diagonal pattern next door. We were in time for the edge trimming and the blowing of clippings into the street.

I went to see Patrick, my favorite hair-do guy. He's a hoot and usually massages my head which almost puts me to sleep. Patrick is a true hair artist and I appreciate that.

May 26th is Bob Dylan's birthday but I don't know which one. Which birthday that is...I know which Bob Dylan it is. KMSU is celebrating by having Bob Dylan's music all day. We're expecting the Netflix movies I'm Not There and No Direction Home in the next week. Maybe I'll get a cake for Bob's birthday.

We're meeting Tiffany and Eric and Baby Elliot in Shakopee on Saturday. I can't wait to see him...it's been a month and Tiffany says he has changed a lot. It's hard to keep up with those babies when they grow so fast. We saw Alex and Ella on Tuesday night. Alex was smilier than we've seen him before. Too bad no camera when you need one!

I'm back in the four day a week swimming pattern. The last couple weeks, I've had one day with an early meeting so I skipped that day both weeks. If you're wondering about the surgery thing, I've progressed to real solid food...fish, soft vegetables, and crackers. I can go to a restaurant and usually find something to eat. I had a piece of baked cod and some broccoli at Grizzly's tonight. It makes about five meals, but that's ok. I have a pile of tiny meals in the freezer. So far, no nasty side effects and pretty smooth sailing. I go back to see the surgeon and the dietitian on Tuesday. I'm afraid they'll yell at me for not drinking milk. Nah, they probably won't.

At Grizzly's there was a dude in the next booth who got up to leave and gave me a big old shot of his hinder thanks to his droopy pants. Man. All you want when you are about to eat. There should be a law.

1 comment:

Jill said...

I'll bet Bob Dylans hinder isn't so pretty, either. He's gotta be 90. Weren't we babies when he started singing?