I thought I was going to get through flu season unscathed this year, but it wasn’t to be. I didn’t have flu, but I did have one stinker of a cold. To make matters worse, I had a story to write for Oklahoma Living Magazine about a local botanical garden, and if the illness wasn’t enough to thwart me, the weather had to conspire against me as well. Every time I would arrange an interview and a visit to the gardens there would be a thunderstorm, or a snowstorm, or freezing conditions, and it would have to be postponed. I had a few hairy moments when I thought this story would never get done, but I just snuck in under the wire. Oh hum.
Also, early last year, I wrote a piece about my local vet who has volunteered his services in the Iditerod, that great Alaskan dog race, on four occasions. At the time I couldn’t provide a link to it as it wasn’t a feature story, but it has finally appeared in the archives. Even so, I can’t give a direct link, you’ll need to scroll through to pages 40-41 to read it, but if you’re interested you can find it here: http://www.ok-living.coop/media/February08.pdf
Anyway, the dental problems are gradually getting sorted, at great expense I hasten to add. And I did have to cancel my last appointment because of my bad cold, but I am hoping that the next appointment may be the last, for a while at least.
I’m still doing well with the no smoking, it’s been just over 5 weeks now. Yay! I won’t say I don’t miss the ciggies, because I still do. Though I am now able to go for quite long periods without thinking about them. The worst times are still when I am writing under pressure of a deadline, then I could absolutely murder one. I was as grumpy as hell this past weekend, so I kicked Mick, and shouted at the cats. :-) Oh well, nobody said it was going to be easy.
Speaking of smoking, that reminds me of a fantastic British detective series I watched quite recently called Life on Mars. In it the main protagonist, a young detective, is involved in a car accident and finds himself transported back to 1973. He doesn’t know whether he’s dead, in a coma, or mad. To him, 1973 feels like being on another planet, hence the title. Anyway, my point is, what really strikes you about the program is the fact that everyone smokes, and a permanent fog of smoke hangs over every room in the police station.
It also got me thinking about 1973, because back then I hadn’t yet taken up with the evil weed, in fact I despised smoking, probably because both my parents smoked. It also brought back other memories of 1973, but more of that next time. If you were around in 1973, what were you doing back then?
Toodle pip for now.