I'm just now getting over a stomach virus.

The worst part now is the recurrent stomach cramping. Luckily the excrement-related symptoms seem to have passed (no pun intended.)

Ain't nuthin' like a diet of dry toast and gatorade...

Yesterday I met with my new oprthopedist. New, meaning, new to me, although the guy WAS awfully young-looking. He was quite sweet, and sent me to get x-rays (which looked ok) and then an MRI (I still have to schedule it.)

I cannot imagine how many giggles echo through the halls of the hospital when he gets paged:

"Dr. Tingle, Paging Doctor Tom Tingle."

Yes, DR. TOM TINGLE is his real name! Maybe he should have been a neurologist. Thank heavens he didn't become a gynecologist! And then if he were a urologist, you know he'd be referred to as Dr. Tinkle.

I ADORE all this insane media hysteria about the innocent lite brite posters created to hype one of my favorite shows of all time, Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

Check out this video that shows how the guys created and distributed the (IMHO) totally freaking clever "advertisements".

http://www.austinswim.org/guerilla.html

...KNEE.

Ugh. Its my knee again. I had an arthroscopy on my right knee in 2002. Now its acting up again with what seems like the same issue - foreign matter lodged under the patella. Ick. I'm too busy for another surgery!!!!!!!!

Ok, calming down now...at least i was able to get a next-day appointment with an orthopedist. The wonderful doc who worked on my knee last time retired, unfortunatley for me.

After I meet with the new guy (at old guy's former practice,) I'll tell all about him...and his very amusing moniker.

Tonight for dinner, we are taking a family trip to a neighboring suburb. My daughter received her "free kids meal" birthday club card from The Choo Choo awhile ago but we haven't had time yet to indulge in quite possibly the best hamburgers and onion rings on the planet.

Not only is the food delicious, it is delivered from the kitchen to your counter seat via model train!

My husband's sole complaint about this Chicagoland landmark eatery: They don't serve beer (because it woud go PERFECTLY with their burgers...)

It's freakin' COLD outside!

Here is a mediocre pic of Da' Beaver - Hubby and I are in one of the Atlantic City touristy ripoffs; a "rolling chair" - but it was worth the $ because it was raining that night at the boardwalk. We are outside of Caesar's, about to indulge in our fabulous dinner at The Continental.

I look like I'm being swallowed by a bear...I also look bloated enough to float out to sea. That is what you get with 3 nights of continuous restaurant meals and a plentiful flow of liquor.

When I visited my parents at Thanksgiving, my mother sent me back to the frozen tundra of Illinois with a furry little gift: a full-length beaver coat that she never had the opportunity to use very often. When she first offered, I thought of refusing but then I realized that 1.) it is "recycling" 2.) it is "natural"/organic 3.) in my climate, it is a completely practical garment 4.) the only other coats that keep me warm in a Chicago winter are DOWN-filled - which is just another form of dead creatures.

Anyway, besides being warm and comfortable, this coat is pretty fantastic-looking, perhaps a bit over-the-top, but it is now in regular rotation, whether I'm going out for dinner or to the supermarket.

I had it on when I went to pick up my weekly Host-on-the-run order at Church. I ran into none other than Father Steve, who immediatley got up from his desk chair, strolled over to me and began stroking the sleeve and cooing, "Ooooooooh!" in apparent admiration.

Yesterday, I attended a lecture and meeting for the Ministry of Care. As the attendees filled the room, it was apparent I'd have to give up the extra chair on which I had draped my woolly mammoth of a coat, so I placed it across a sofa in the hallway for the duration of the event.

As I was leaving, Father Steve was ambling down the staircase from the office and called out to me, laughing, "Oh, was that YOUR rat fur on the couch? If I knew it was yours, I would have put it on and worn it in the hall for you!"

I replied, blushing, "Rat fur?! This is no rat fur, although I am too embrassed to tell you what it is!"

He grabbed my hand, and somehow we got all entwined together as we broke into in a fit of laughter, and he confidently responded, "Oh I KNOW what it is, you don't need to tell me!"

We both turned beet red and continued giggling.

"Oh, there are sooooo many jokes, soooo many jokes," I offered, wiping away a tear.

So now you know: don't be shocked if you ever hear a priest remark to a woman, "Nice beaver."

I spent my evening spanking, digging, cramp-rolling and brushing. I paid for the opprtunity to do so...and will repeat this effort for 7 more weeks.

No, its not Trent Reznor's House of Horrors. I enrolled in an ADULT TAP DANCE class!

I haven't tapped since 6th grade, when tap and ballet were part of my private school cirriculum. I have wanted to take this class for fitness and FUN benefits for quite awhile but there always seemed to be "something else" going on Thursday nights.

I finally got my chance and was pleased that only 3 of the women in the group were "experienced" tappers; the rest of us were beginners or re-starters (like me.)

No joke, but I think my deodorant quit halfway through the class. Even though I was the youngest in the class (I'd say the median age is 50) I was SWEATING and my ass and calves were burning.

Watch out Savion Glover, I'm gonna be bringing da' noise, bringing da' funk (or at least my stanky armpits will be bringing the funk this week!)

I saw this graphic on The Daily Show and giggled myself breathless. My husband, sisters, and friend Dennis will know why: