A collection of distilled sarcastic wisdom, numerous photographs, discussions of books and stuff to learn and more stuff to think about from a retired economics professor turned blogger and photographer.
One of my big disappointments as a kid was that I could never get a kite to fly. I tried and tried, and made kite after kite and ran through the fields with it trailing me two feet off the ground. My dad could make them fly, and I could never figure out what I was doing wrong.
I'm sitting here at my computer with a box of Kleenex on one side and still continually sneezing after five days of unadulterated and total misery from a common cold. I have eked out considerable sympathy and medical advice from my friends and family on Facebook but my cold continues unabated. How I got it I'll never know unless some thoughtless person needed a 100 pound bag of something at Costco and imported the dread disease to the handle of my shopping cart. Other than that all I do is stare out the window and take 200 pictures a day of the mountain which is tending to become extremely boring.
What I miss most is not being able to tell you about my ailments. I was always hyper worried about my health as you know and so I relied on you to answer my perpetual question when I had a mysterious symptom that could well have been fatal when I asked you, "Velna, do you think it is anything serious?" You were always concerned and sympathetic and I well remember and dearly miss some of your favorite responses to that question which I probably asked a half dozen times a day depending on how many dire symptoms and worries I had at the moment:
Suck it up.
I'm no doctor, how do you expect me to know?
You'll live, likely.
You'll be better tomorrow.
No it's not a heart attack. Your heart isn't on your lower right side.
It's probably just gas.
How many times do you expect me to answer that question? You've already asked me a half dozen times.
Quit worrying so much.
It will go away.
You're driving me crazy.
Recess for sneezing and nose blowing.
Do you have to keep asking me that same question?
You had the same complaint last week and it didn't kill you.
Two more sneezes.
If you think it's serious, let's go to the emergency room.
You can tell how worried and concerned she was about me and how much sympathy and empathy and tear stricken compassion it got me when I asked her if she thought my latest ailment was something serious. But oh how I miss those comments. It is no fun to sit around an empty home with no one to pester and bother and just suffer in silence except for the sneezing and coughing hour after hour after hour. Some days are worse than others and today has seemed impossible. So I will just read down the list of typical comments above like those you often made when I was worried about something serious doing me in. With love and concern, your impossibly irritating husband, Dwight.