First #NaNoWriMo and now #InCoWriMo

Are you ready for InCoWriMo?

What, you don't know what InCoWriMo is?  Silly you.  It's International Correspondence Writing Month.  You know, when you actually pick up paper and pen, write someone a note, fold it and insert in an envelope, get a stamp and then put it into a mailbox to be delivered to someone.  I do it even when it's not InCoWriMo!


So if you want to reminisce and re-encounter that glorious feeling when you see mail, actual mail, in your mailbox, leave me a comment.  Or, maybe, send someone you love a note... card... letter... drawing.  Whatever.

February's a short month.  Don't delay!


It's a sign!

When I made my recent Big Life Change, my new home was on a strange little road.  It was the building I live in and two other buildings that have mostly elderly people (elderly = qualifying for senior housing).  The road sort of dead ends after it passes between those buildings... ironically, I hope, there's a graveyard "next door".  It's a great memento mori to have a literal dead end right there.

There is a cut-through to another two-building complex so we do have access to the next street but that's driving through their parking lot, not on an actual road.

Even better, we live where the street has no name.  Or, apparently, is findable on most GPS.

Then, yesterday, I drove home and... wait!  what?  It's a street sign.  With the name of my road on it.  Underneath is "PVT WAY"  (of course, now I'm curious what counts as private way, vs regular or semi-private or incredibly public; and why  are we a 'way' not a 'road'?  not that I'd be opposed to changing my address to C---- Way).



Lazy Thoughts

Reading... a whole lot of adult books that I can't talk about except with a few select others.

Listening... to Je rĂªve by Noir Silence.  It's been my constant earworm for about a month now.  No idea why.

Watching... anything that isn't the GOP or Democratic debates.

Following... all the tributes to David Bowie and Alan Rickman.  There's a third 69-year-old British man I crush heavily on, and I've got my fingers crossed I don't see his name any time soon.

Uncorking... a glorious Malbec Rose.

Looking... at The Herd and wishing I had their totally pampered life.


That's me, under the covers...

One of the things I hate about moving is the whole having to find a new doctor part.  It's bad enough that you have to try to find one that takes your insurance and will see you relatively quickly (as opposed to "Dr X has no first patient appointments until four months from now"), but then having to explain the information behind the numbers and data.  No, no family history (I'm adopted - read the information sheet I filled out, please!).  Yes, I'm always this pale.  No, my blood pressure isn't always this difficult to get but thanks for bruising my arm on your 10th try.  Etc..

There's also the conflicting advice/concerns issue.  One doctor's "we'll keep an eye on this" is another emergency, or complete who cares.  Which do you trust?

So last month I finally saw my new doctor and had one of those regular exam things, and once they got the previous results from my previous doctor/hospital (that was fun: no one read that I said, specifically, that the hospital wasn't in this state but no one read that so of course the hospital with a similar name here had no record of me) the nurse called.  Could I come in for an additional test?  This new place has everything on line and the notes say that what they're looking at has existed over 10 years. Unchanged.  So why the additional test?  Was there something that previous doctor missed?

I go back in a few weeks.  Meanwhile, that's me over there, under the covers, pretending it's all ok.