Recovering nicely

Yesterday Jed and I drove to The Kirklin Clinic early, where I got my blood drawn so they could send the results to the M.D.'s office. Then we went up the street to a new cafe I've forgotten the name of and ate lunch (breakfast for me after fasting), then back to the Clinic for my 2:20 appointment. I had a list of complaints, and Dr. G. laughed when he saw "wart on forehead," but he didn't say anything to do about it. Come to think of it, it does look sort of distinguished. On the serious side, all my numbers were favorable. My LDLs were low, and my HDLs were high. We decided I didn't have to go back on the cholesterol med, which I haven't taken in the last six months anyway. My cholesterol, which wasn't very high in the first place, was down 20 points.

After mashing my foot with his bear-like paw and making me holler, he said I had plantar fascitis, which I understand is something like toothache in my heel. He told me some exercises to do, and to get a thingy to go in my shoe, and if it's not better in a couple of weeks, call him and he'll refer me to the real foot doctors.

Jed went back to Atlanta after lunch today, at which we finished up a pork loin with sandwiches and half a cantaloupe. He's a good guy. Wears a white hat, figuratively.

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On her blog today (The Painted Possum, which see), my sister Ramey announced the publication in May of her book, Sweet Music on Moonlight Ridge. I'm proud, and suitably jealous, and can't wait to hold a signed copy in my hands.

On the subject of books, last night I thought of something funny:

Question: What would I do if I knew I couldn't fail?
Me: Write another novel?

For some reason, that made me double up laughing. The one I'm writing now is number 5 (of first drafts). I'd do better to work on trying to make one of them publishable, instead of starting another one. I'll do that. I will, I will.

On the whole, I feel good now because I don't have to go back to the doctor until next April 7th.