These Boobs Are Made for Walkin'

When I was growing up in the 1960s and '70s, go-go boots were all the rage, and, as you might imagine, quite irresistible to a nerd like me who wanted to fit in. I wanted to go-go places, see the world, walk 'til I ran out of road, and then make my own path through life. These days, I am content to just have my own body parts intact, thank you very much, boobs included. I am also certain that the people who dreamed up high-heeled shoes must be in cahoots with the ones who invented mammography machines. They both have a monopoly on torturing women with a back-handed sort of kindness: Want to look good? Wear high heels but pay the price in back pain and sprained ankles. Want to be sure your boobs aren't rotting away with cancer? Get an annual, painful mammogram (or two) and pay the price your insurance policy won't pay for (the second one). It's too bad there's no bank to dole out the money once you make it so far around the game board, or at least there won't be by the time SAM and I are old enough to qualify for Medicare, if we live that long.

This morning, much to my surprise and delight, I was given another chance to Pass Go. (No cancer!) Instead of collecting $200 from the bank, though, I was asked to pay!--several hundred dollars for the follow-up mammogram and possible sonogram even before I was subjected to them. Boy, was I steamed! But I didn't lose my cool at the gal entering my information in the hospital computer. She was only doing her job and a fine one at that.

Instead of losing my cool at the hospital help, I started looking for errors--in the Right to Privacy brochure I was advised to read while I waited to be examined and in the ancient magazines stacked on side tables in the waiting room. I noted quite a lot of them (errors) in one issue of Southern Living, but they were nothing compared to the one on the front page of the brochure:

"This notice describes how health information about [   ] may be used and disclosed and how you can get access to this information. Please review it carefully...."

Oh, you can bet I did, West Florida Hospital. Notice anything missing? You! Of course! (I put the brackets in for effect.) I can only imagine what the Powers-That-Be are thinking behind our backs:

If You were paying any attention and had any backbone, You poor schmucks, You would feel outraged that the health care system in this country is a sham. It's not health care. It's overpriced, Mismanaged Disease-Care, and it's about to get even more overpriced and mismanaged (Affordable Care Act). Do You get it, You boobs (schmucks/fools)?

Got it. Now I really need a walk....

La Mere OIE, Another Goose That Gathers Golden Eggs

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth, without any bread,
Then whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.

--a Mother Goose (La Mere Oie) nursery rhyme--

Watching a professional at work can really help an amateur like me understand that photography is really not my thing. A week ago Saturday we drove over to Bayview Park in Pensacola, and the wife of one our son's co-workers took some holiday family photos of all of us. It was a pleasure to watch her work with that camera and a keen eye for detail. The experience wins hands-down over the usual uncomfortable poses, fake sets, and hot lights in someone's studio. Besides, Hubby and I got to take some pictures of everyone too, even the photographer.


Now that Micah is able to sit still for about thirty seconds and listen to someone read, the best choice for story material (at least in my opinion) usually ends up as a selection from a book of nursery rhymes and bedtime stories. Even my son remembers this book, and I found his name scribbled in the pages today. I guess he was practicing penmanship at the time and could not find any paper handy. Once I started reading these time-tested verses again, I began to wonder if people still find them fascinating now that we are firmly embraced by the electronic age.

My various queries at one point turned up over two million entries on the subjects of nursery rhymes and Mother Goose! Not many of them were kind to the old bird, and in fact many of them pointed out that her verses for children are politically incorrect today. Whipping children soundly after half-starving them doesn't sound very kind or correct in any age. One entry I read maintains that most, if not all, nursery rhymes were not originally composed for children's benefit but rather as political jabs at the powers-that-be. Aha! Now I don't feel so bad for possibly scaring the wits out of my children or damaging their psyches when I read those scary stories and verses to them years ago. I was merely preparing them for the big, bad world out there and helping them begin to navigate those shark-infested waters known as p-o-l-i-t-i-c-s and e-c-o-n-o-m-y.

Did I just say big, bad world? I forget sometimes. Our economy is global now, and I have helped create it. My vote counted for the powers-that-be.