Ninety Days

I am here.  

Again. 

Reset.

Rinse. Repeat. Return.

To the series of good habits for the well-being of mind and body. 

Ninety days. 

One day at a time.  

I can clear my system in 90 days

January Twenty Twenty-two

 

And just like that it is the end of January, Twenty Twenty-two.   

My January consisted (in part) of leaving the tree up the entirety of the month; mostly due to not have a suitable storage tote in which to store the additional items purchased for the new tree.  This is the first tree since moving to this apartment February, 2019. And we hadn't had a tree at the old place since . . . 2014?

I think. 

Anyway, the tote has been purchased and the tree is coming down today.  

I came across an item in social media making a case for having a tree year 'round; decorating it for 

Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Cinco de Mayo, the Fourth of July,  Halloween, Fall Harvest, 

Thanksgiving, and then, back to Christmas. 

In theory, it is an interesting idea.  I suppose there are some items that would work for multiple themes but I can't even begin to wrap my head around the storage challenges.  

THAT and there is a long time between the Fourth of July and Halloween equals a no for me. So, tree comes down, Christmas (and winter) decorations are going in the tote and down to the basement storage locker until December...something...2022.  

I hope you have had a peace filled, healthy, safe, and zen kind of January.  The last few days of my January are set to be filled with snow and below freezing temps.  

Pass the hot chocolate.  

Ta Ta for now.    

**artwork in response to art group prompt: "the months--January"  a friend offered some suggestions; A.A. Milne being one so, Kanga and little Roo.  The other, well, of course all the tossed trees during the first couple of weeks of January.  

Junio

 

We are six days into this new month and I've already lost a day.  All day Thursday I was operating under the premise that is was only Wednesday.  This, in and of itself, wasn't an epic proportion tragedy. It has presented more like an annoyance that the work stuff (tasks I set up to get stuff done in accordance to pre-determined schedules and deadlines) was now off which undoubtedly impact the off-the-clock task list and schedule.  

Otherwise, June has gone as expected; it has been hot, noisy (thanks to Memorial Day fireworks, motorcycles, bikes, four-wheelers, blaring car stereos, and of course, kids playing) and reflective.  

The half-year mark is kind of a natural point of looking back as well as looking forward.  Looking back, goals established at the beginning of the year have not been fully met. Some daily goal benchmarks were met but clearly not consistently or urgently enough as the expected results are missing.  

So, looking forward: Reset.   

The plan, I believe, was a good plan, but I need to be more consistent and approach each day with a bit more urgency toward reaching and achieving.  

Cheers to June.  Here's to the days and weeks ahead.  

  

Update Status

What hasn't been said in nearly a month:

1. My daughter had knee surgery nearly a month ago. She's frustrated with . . . well, most everything really. Doing my part to keep her spirits up takes nearly everything I have.

2. I failed to commemorate my mom's birthday mostly due to being caught up with concern and care for daughter. It was the 26th of May. She would have been 78. I miss her--still.

3. My bike broke. Thanks to that and other factors I haven't pedaled at all (well, except for gym bikes--sparingly) at all this spring season. I have no doubt not riding is impacting my psyche.

4. I participated in a free web series designed to get my sketchbook mojo ticking. I'm trying to commit to sketching every day.

5. Remember the letter writing month project? I continue to receive lovely letters from members of that group initiative.

6. In addition to re-dedicating myself to sketching and writing (creative endeavors in general), I am also re-dedicating myself to health (I won't say weight loss, though that is the ultimate desired result) goals.

7. I dreamt that I went to a party. I was in a party dress. I woke up in sweats. (Literally and otherwise) ;-)

8. My skin has been on a tear. Atopic dermatitis. Frustrating. Painful. Annoying. Nearly healed--not nearly fast enough.

9. I miss this space/community. I want/need to make the time and effort to write (and visit others) more often.

Go HERE for MORE Blog Reads! 

 

TidBits

*

#The biggest challenge in turning over this new leaf toward healthier eating, has been the impulse to lean into easy (lazy) behaviors. It is much too convenient to pick up a bag of chips, a couple of cookies, a candy bar, the dreaded quick service or something out of a box. Planning and prepping: impulse busters

#Several of my co-workers snack on sunflower seeds (with the shells). None, I  believe, eat the shells. They all seem to build mounds of sucked on shells, leaving them on their desks (resting on a dish or paaper towels) until the mound is dumped in the trash. Some, must take sunflower seeds into the bathroom. I never expected to see a sucked on shell in the bathroom, not in the trash.  

#It apears that unnatural hair colors are trending. Pinks. Blues. Magentas. Folks dyeing their hair from the box of 64 crayons, buying pieces, weaves, and wigs, that widen the spectrum even further. A couple of fellow commuters "had words" over expression of this trend. He said she had Now and Later hair. She wasn't as upset over the specific critque as she was over his nastiness in expressing his opinion.

#My mom's birthday is Thursday. I'm trying really hard to lift up the cheer-filled, happier moments. Feeling fairly confident that the effort was going to prove exhausting, I've already requested Friday off. Now, to just get through the 4 days . . .

#We had two (count them, two) days with temps touching 70 and the sun being our friend. Yay!


*don't mind the date on the photo--different camera, didn't reset--photo taken Sunday morning.  

#MicroBlogMonday click the link for more. :-) 

May We Go All The Way

No cook, mason jar oatmeal.                      

Four years ago I had a girlfriend. Weird to be saying girlfriend in my mid-fifties, (well, I wasn't mid at the time) but still . . .   that's what we were, girlfriends. And April per FB memories was our signature month. She shared and spoke with me much four years ago April  Not to long beyond April she stopped talking and eventually, broke up with me. But, I am veering off track. The track being: healthy eating. My good friend over at 8th Day proposes a community challenge of small changes to daily eating that will hopefully lead to lasting changes toward eating healthily.

Some of the small changes referenced in the post  are changes that I'd already adopted on some level but I have not been consistent to the discipline. Thus, I am joining the challenge. One of my hurdles is having healthier options readily available. Which brings me back to the girlfriend.

Four years ago she shared a no cook, mason jar oatmeal recipes link.I bookmarked the link but had not ever gotten around to trying any of the recipes. Then, we broke up, life took a turn toward death, grief, unemployment, and . . . well, suffice to say, I forgot all about living healthily let alone, no cook mason jar oatmeal.

If not for the "On This Day" FB feature no cook, mason jar oatmeal would have remained forgotten. Now, however, I am anxious to pick up the supplies and ingredients needed to make several days worth. I am already doing smoothies a couple of days a week, oatmeal in a more traditional serving method for a couple others. Breakfast done healthier is rolling along fairly well. The no cook, mason jar oatmeal will help mightily.

Lunch and Dinner need much more work. In preparation of the challenge, my grocery list included more fruit and vegetables. My week one challenge is to include at least one vegetable with both lunch and dinner this week.  

In addition to taking on the May Healthier Eating Challenge, May is also National Bike Month. My hope is

that weather permitting Melody and I are rolling more and more hours this month. April has been dismally wet and cold. Not at all conducive to Melody trips. Here's to taking a lasting turn toward sustainable lifestyle changes and healthier living. Thank you to FB for prompting a memory. Though the relationship ran aground, I am happy for having had the experience. I remember much of our time together fondly, now.

#healthier eating challenge week 1 

Obese

Jillian Michaels said, "let's face it, you're obese!" I wasn't offended. I invited her opinion. I'd voluntarily gone to her website, filled out the questionnaire, and invited her to opine on my status and perhaps advice as to what I should might be less . .  (didn't / don't consider myself obese, but . . . ) less large.

Disclosure: I've never watched "The Biggest Loser".  I know of it due to it's (and by association, her) popularity and the show and / or contestants showing up in mainstream media from time to time; most recently, the criticism of a victor's extreme weight loss. I didn't really consider that I'd become a member of the BL bandwagon, I was just curious as to what her program would offer me for free and if that were anything different from what I could get elsewhere.

It wasn't.

The basic message was take in less, burn more: calories. 

Intellectually, I know this. Emotionally, I get it. As most of us know, it is much easier said than done.

I've been up and down this road these last few years. Most recently, I admit, more down and up

However, been there, done that, must do it again. Re-booting the campaign. I must. I not only huff and puff about the way I look, but huff and puff about the way I feel. I don't like the huffing and puffing.

So, with no thanks or offense to Jillian and her crew's program,  I will get back to what has worked in the past, tweaking to allow for my advanced age and other . . . advancements. Thankfully, time has come to get outside, get Melody out from under the stairs and on the road.  Adjustment to my diet began in earnest last week with further adjustments on tap for this week and beyond.

The loss won't be epic. It won't be quick. It certainly won't be easy. But, I will have measurable success.My emotional and physical health depends on some measure of success.

Goal set. Clock begun. Wheels turning.And a weigh we  go.

Look Inside

A full week has passed since I was nearly caught up with the lessons and projects. I landed on the vocation lesson and . . .

nothing.

Not, mind you that I don't have ideas. I do. But, turning those ideas into something and putting them on paper . . . did not happen over the past week and certainly not this weekend.

That said, I do intend to do the remaining assignments and look forward to the prompts for the week (the last week) to come.

In the interim, I volunteered to contribute to a traveling art journal. When the journal arrives I'll have to insert my artistic imprint on two pages. I think I'm 5th on the list and given the schedule, if each of the 4 ahead take the full seven days, plus factoring mailing time, I'd say the journal will land in my maillbox, oh, maybe 1st or rather 2nd week of March?

Did you know the cost of first class postage went up .03. The cost of mailing a first class letter is now .49. If you have forever stamps on had, no immediate impact. I have forever stamps on hand.

However, when I go to purchase more stamps: impact.

My mind is racing in about 45 different directions in about as many speeds. My heart isn't far behind. I cannot be trusted to make any rational decisions. About anything. Seriously.

I don't understand why no one is getting back to me. Well, not "no one" but a particular someone. I'm afraid. I miss her, but it isn't about me. I worry. About her. I hope all is well. And if it is something I said, did (or didn't) . . .    ::doves:::

You may have heard that Monday and Tuesday are going to be too fucking cold to move. Yet, move I must.

Any positive energy you can send this way, greatly appreciated.

Truly.

I know. All over the place today....stream of consciousness kind of post. I blame the diet 7-UP.

ta ta

Fried Days

Okay, I'll say it here and now. July has basically been a bust with regard to my goals.  I mean, for fuck's sake it's been hot, beyond hot. And when it hasn't been hot it has been storming. And when it hasn't been storming, it has just been . . .

BLAH.

Well, blah for me.

Not so much the heat, well yeah the heat, but because of the heat the usual, 'unable to sleep through the night' plague is even worse.

Which means getting up (waking up not the issue) to don some clothes, get on the bike and ride, ride, ride, Sally Deborah ride, is just . . . well, it hasn't been happening with any regularity. Or, at all.

And I bought new gloves and padded shorts too.

Not riding wouldn't be so bad, but I'm eating horribly. Well, not so much horrible choices but just too damn much. Over-stuffing. And I'm drinking a hella beer.

HELLA!

Not riding (or walking beyond what is absolutely necessary) eating and drinking too much wouldn't be oh, SO bad, but on top of all that, feeling guilty about it . . . I can't flippin' think.

It took too many days (cha-ching to the library coffers) to finish a 378 page book. I saw the movie for fuck's sake. I KNEW (basically) how it would end. And it wasn't like it was (at) all challenging. Come to think of it, maybe, 'can't flipin' think' is not precisely accurate. I. Can't. Focus.!.!

My brain is just fried (hehehehe, I typed, 'friend')....anyhoo...F.R.I.E.D and speaking of, fried green tomatoes, now, YES PLEASE, and while we're at it, fried pickles. EXCEPT for the variety I had at Seven Ten in Hyde Park many months ago. They were awful.

That said, July isn't over. I still have a chance. I have to shake this . . . whatever. I can't change the heat, the  job, any other stuff proffering the 'blues' just my reaction to it, them.

Each day is a brand new day. Welcome to the end of Wednesday and (plus) 100 heat index.

Bring on Thursday.

PS: special note to newest recruit who once gave me HOT SEX and who  is no longer, technically new . . .well, she is, but isn't; it's a long story . . . anywhoo, note to newest recruit who is now a bona fide friend . . . THEY  ARE FUCKING IDIOTS!!! 

a ha

For days I've felt a little . . . off, for lack of a more descriptive word. I thought it was tiredness brought on by too much work and too little rest. Or perhaps a malaise brought on by dreary weather accompanied by inexplicable? bloating, achy knees, odd cravings, emotional jags.  


Then I attributed the out of step feeling with the chore of first, reading (objectively) and then commenting to my dad about the material he sent. The material, in and of itself (though truly a chore) didn't upset me overmuch but the fact that he, of all people, would send me (among other material) a booklet titled, "How to Raise Responsible Children" really set my teeth on edge.


Oh, then there was an aching tooth. 


Two thoughts however, never crossed my mind as possible causes for the turbidity of  my daily experience in recent days, weeks.  One: this. and Two: the actual cause or perhaps more accurately, the root: P M freakin' S! 


That's right sports fans, yours truly is having an unplanned visitor.  At fifty-one. After over a year. 


It has been so long I misread all the tell-tell signs. The bloating, the cravings, the tiredness, the insomnia, the . . . everything. 


Oy to the Vey.


For all that, now that there is a face on the issue, now that the situation is flowing, so to speak, I'm much better. Well, not better in the sense that I am intensely annoyed at having to deal with this again, still. But, now I fully understand with what I'm dealing and can therefore be more focused on that root. There are known remedies. 


Still, I find myself on this Thanksgiving Eve quite thankful and full gratitude. Miss Flo and achy knees aside, there is my good health, the good health of both and actor and his sister (though she has been suffering with a wicked cold and upper respiratory infection over the past several days) and being able to put a full dinner on the table tomorrow that we will all share (along with my mother). We will trade stories old and new, laughs, and the like. And as much as I lack enthusiasm for the process, the shopping and prepping, I am overwhelmingly enthusiastic over the end result, the fullness of body and spirit. 


Happy Thanksgiving to one and all. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to shoo the actor away from the ham (again).

September Eleventh, Twenty Eleven

On this date in history, in addition to recollections reverent memorials and extending warm birthday greetings,   I will recall the first conversation I'v had with my father in . . . I don't know how long. It would have been long before Katrina, for he called sometime after, but got my machine. I called him back, getting his machine and from that moment to this, SILENCE.
He'd called me way back when in (delayed) response my my reaching out to him in the aftermath of Katrina. The various (and as it turns out, unreliable) reports were of little comfort and I sought to communicate with him directly. That effort added yet another chapter to our storied history.

Slowly churn to September, Twenty Eleven. In the round-about, circuitous, in-direct style of communication that has become an Olympic sport for my Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Brothers, and Mom. I discovered my dad has lung cancer.

I did the only thing this only daughter could do, I contacted my younger brother and asked for our dad's contact information. And then I called James. As it happens he wasn't home. His mother-in-law volunteered (way too much, imo) information and to take a message. The exchange between she and I, who have never met was a bit like the Costello's "Who's On First?" routine.

When she asked which daughter I was I admit to having my heart shattered in a million different pieces. Later, after thinking it through I rationalized that there wasn't any reason to expect her to know he only has the one and for that one to be on the phone on that given Saturday. But still, I'd decided my next attempt at communication would not be via the telephone.

On Sunday, September Eleventh, Twenty Eleven my dad called me. His opening line, "do you know who this is?" mended the million shattered pieces to some degree. Our conversation was easy, considering the history  and we talked for as long as his energy would allow. He was direct and frank about the onset of the disease, the treatments, the side-effects, and his resignation to what is and what will be.
He signed off with professions of love and promises to stay in touch. We may or may not talk again and I think I may be fine either way because I do now have September Eleventh, Twenty Eleven and it shall be woven into the fabric that is the story of James and his only daughter, Deborah.  

Pinch Me, Pinch Me Knot

My co-worker's husband came by for a visit. She introduced him around, gave him and tour. He and I chatted a bit. After he left she told me that he commented about my age (and such). He said, "I thought Deborah would be older from your conversations. She's not that much older than you, is she?"

I'm twelve years older than my co-worker.

I was feeling pretty good until I got smashed by a hot flash. Though, flash is not really accurate. 'Tis actually a building of heat. More like a slow burn. Smoldering. And then sweat. Not, copious amounts of sweat, but certainly more than I've experienced my entire previous life.

An adjustment.

Speaking of slow, check out my take on speed dating. And while you're there, visit the other writers. Some kind of wonderful stuff happening over there where the queers write.

Lost In . . . Something

Yesterday morning my daughter and I were shooting the breeze, both of us in various stages of getting ready for our respective workday. Her (2nd) closet is near my bedroom and we often use the opportunity of her trips there to chit-chat over any given morning's animal antics and other things.

Yesterday, she asked after my face, skin. She commented that it looks better and wonder if it felt better as well.

I relayed that it did feel better. I launched into how I was staying away from acidic foods, trying various topical creams and lotions to combat not just the itching, but the dryness as well.

She picked up a small bottle of one such topical, something I was no longer using. I'd run into a store on the way somewhere, needing some kind of moisturizer for my bag. Seeing her finger the bottle, I said, "in fact, since I stopped using that stuff, my face and neck feel much, much better."

She looked at the product she was holding, making her eyes go wide. I could see the guffaw build up within her long before it blasted out of her mouth.

You see, instead of putting on a skin lotion from a similar line of products as pictured, I'd been applying a hair conditioner. To my face. I didn't even know they made hair care products. It was a trial size bottle and I admit I hadn't really read the bottle. (I was in a hurry, I saw the product line got it, and gone.) Even after deciding not to use it anymore, it didn't register that I should look at the bottle. I did make a mental note to check the ingredients before I made any future purchases.

Her hearty laugh and, "you put this on your face....for daaaaays???" is still ringing in my ears.

But, yes . . . looking and feeling, much better. Thanks for askin'.

Fire Ants

I should know better. Seriously, I've been dealing with this stuff my entire life. Actively, directly since my mid-teens.

The outbreak from October subsided some, made a couple less invasive returns over the winter months, but was mostly under control. My skin, though showing some discoloration from the recent attacks, appeared to be mostly on the mend.

Until the tomato sauce incident.

I consumed a meal with a tomato sauce base some weeks ago and the next day felt as though my skin was being chewed from the inside out . . . by fire ants, I've decided today. I didn't trust that it was the tomato sauce, because over the years I'd thought I'd developed a certain resistance and it wasn't that much.

Well, a couple days ago, I did it again. And again, itching now into the second day, though not as bad as yesterday, is still pretty aggravating. And though, feeling much better today I still must wash, rinse, and re-salve my face every hour to keep the fire ants at bay So, it's official. It's was the tomato sauce.

My outbreaks have been (historically) food based, specifically, citrus. I've avoided lemons, oranges, limes, grapefruit and products containing those items, flavors as well as products containing citric acid. Tomatoes in and of themselves have not been a problem, but tomato sauce and tomato paste, have been. One year I went to dinner and ordered (& devoured) a most decadent lasagna. The next day I had to leave work for the outbreak was that severe. I rubbed my skin raw, all over. It was horrible.

My tolerance changes over the years. I spend weeks, months, avoiding certain things, then consuming formerly taboo items, in moderation. I've been enjoying a return to having an occasional (some weeks more than occasional) lemon, lime, and grapefruit. I've had lasagna since that infamous outbreak and a number of items containing tomato sauce (though I'd continued to avoid tomato paste) with no incident. It appears my tolerance is changing, again. For the worst.

Not only am I being sent around the bend over the tomato sauce I consumed, but I appear to more prone to suffering the skin-crawling heebie jeebies over seeing peeling paint, certain repeated patterns, not to mention crawling, flying bugs, just to name a few things. Just typing that, having the image inserted in my head, made me itch and twitch, just a tad.

I do so hope ALL of this is another temporary affectation of my life-long allergy. It would really blow to have to give up tomatoes and tomato based products. Not to mention being unfazed by (or maybe even, less fazed by) that which is fazing me much. For now, until I'm completely clear skinned, I'm staying away from all things tomatoey, acidic, and and otherwise triggery. Or at least, I'll try.

I really should know better. I've been dealing with this my entire life.

This Is My Quest

For the past couple, three years I’ve been trying to reduce my body mass. Toward that end, I joined a gym, WW and a couple of other on-line support-type groups, reduced my over-all caloric intake, made more careful choices regarding snacks and made a concerted effort to ramp up my physical activity.

There was some level of success. I had to dump the gym and WW. The other efforts continued to show positive results but often, I'd celebrate those results by over-eating and eating all the wrong foods.

C-E-L-E-B-R-A-T-E Good Times!

Still.

The pants I bought a few months ago, a size smaller than that of the previous season are a tad snug today, so I know I’ve loss some of the ground recently gained.

I could continue on the same vein and limp my way along to more 10 lb, 1 pant size losses over several months only to rebound with a 5 lb gain and so on, but I’ve had enough of that. I need a new plan of attack, new and aggressive goals, actions, and motivations.

Shrinking Piggies II and related accountability fits the bill.

It is my goal to lose 40 lbs. by July 6, 2009. If I stick to my plan for longer than the usual month to six-weeks, don't go food crazy at the first sign of jiggle-less showers, the goal is reachable.

So it is written, so it shall be done.

There, I feel lighter, more importantly, tighter already.

Eating In, Part 2

I was surfing working this morning and came across this article, which of course reminded me of this post. I wasn't personally mortified to read the news, I hadn't had one of the little meals since that time. I do feel badly for those folks who enjoy (or have enjoyed) the little meals. Since losing my microwave at home, I haven't even given much thought to LCs or any brand of frozen meal.

Since we're on food (of sorts) allow me to update my physical and health status.

I have been good about eating, basically. I am cognizant of my pre-dispositions. I do take a water pill for my slightly elevated blood pressure. I take regular readings and I seem to hover around the pre-hypertensive neighborhood. My doctor may suggest something stronger than the low voltage water pill at some point. I'm hoping to avoid that AND cholesterol meds. My last readings were high but not dangerously so. The doc feels that as I continue on my diet and exercise path, the next test (next September / October) results should prove favorable.


Though I don't gym anymore, I do try to build excercise into my daily routine. I do this by walking. As often as my energy allows I take the long way home. Recently, I've begun to take the route that includes stairs. Many. (My knees have been feeling much better these days). When the warm weather returns (I do not do frozen biking) I'll be back on the bicycle, daily (or as often as it is dry, I avoid wet biking too). In the meantime, between commuting, I do my own variation of sweatin' to the oldies.

I don't know what I weigh. Honestly. I only get on the scale at doctor's appointments. I don't remember what it was last time. But, I do know that my new slacks and jeans are a full size smaller than last season's purchases. Slow and steady progress.

Lunch today consisted of an orange, 1 cup of yogurt (plain, non-fat) and a tablespoon of granola with raisins and cranberries. I try to vary the non-(or low) fat, low sodium foodstuffs and I almost always try to have fresh fruit in the mix.

Next week will be a challenge as the larder will be stocked with foodstuffs not normally kept on hand (or in much larger quantities -cheese, yum- than usually kept). However, the son will be over and I'm sure he'll do his part to relieve me (us) of the most decadant selections.

One thing for sure, he'll take all the pie(s).

Her Name

A friend asked Ellen DeG to give me a wake-up call. She did and I was tickled pink. Thanks friend.

I, in turn, asked Ellen DeG to call Neta (and a couple of others). Ellen DeG had a problem with my request for a call to Neta. "I'm sorry, I cannot say that name." I was given the option to have the call made without a name (boooo) or choose another name. Well, Neta has a middle name so I tried that. Nope. "I'm sorry, I cannot say that name." Well, fudge.

I went back to Neta, spelling it the way it sounds: n-e-e-t-a-h. No go.

I tried n-e-a-t-a. "Sorry, I..."

I thought about trying any one (or all--until accepted) of our endearments for one another. Then I thought, screw it and just went with the message without a name.

Well, double fudge.

I'm inclined to think it was just a glitch. Neta isn't a rare name nor particularly hard to pronounce. Oh sure, some folks might say Net-ta instead of Nee-ta, that would have been acceptable. But unable to say any variation at all? Odd.

Then again, my mom has a difficult time with Neta's name too.

Mom: How is...uhm, your friend, in Tennessee, what's her name?

Me: Nee-ta.

Mom: Oh, I thought it was Net-ta.

Me: No, it's Nee-ta and she's fine. (aside: yum).

Mom: Oh, I thought...well, you know your father's wife is.. Me: Yes, I know, but her name has two Ts, it's Net-tie.

Then, of course, we get on to a conversation about 'dear old dad' which is where I sign off.

Do It

We are approaching the 2nd annual Feel Your Boobies (TM) week. I understand that October has been designated Feel Your Boobies (TM) month. So go ahead, feel free to feel your boobies. And if you haven't already, make time for a visit to the mammomat.

I visited a mammomat week ago Thursday. While I found the mammomat cold and impersonal, the technician was warm and personable. The very vocal technician wanted me to know those were her hands touching me there. She was very good as we only needed one go-round. The entire visit (including registration) was accomplished in under 30 minutes.

Most excellent. Ta ta to mammomat. See you next October. In the meantime, feeling those boobies.