Yakety Yak Blah Blah Blah Blah

Yakety Yak Blah Blah Blah Blah


Origin of the Species (25 March 2006 - 6:15 a.m.)

I went for my follow up appointment with the gastroenterologist yesterday morning, and was happy to hear that the colon polyps are nothing to worry about. My grandmother has a history of cancerous colon polyps, so this is something I do need to keep an eye on. But, for now, I have a five year reprieve. Iím hoping that there will be a better method of prepping for colonoscopies by then! The gastro doc also mentioned (almost as an aside) that she saw signs of diverticulosis. I was advised to eat more high-fiber foods, which I will try to do because I REALLY donít want to end up with diverticulitis.

The bone density test took place in the afternoon. Piece of cake. My next medical appointment is not until mid April, when I will see a neurologist about the headaches. I am SO sick of doctors. Last week I had to pay a routine visit to my rheumatologist. She couldnít believe how tight and hard my neck and shoulder muscles are. In an effort to do something about that, she bumped up the dosage of the muscle relaxer, and added an anti-inflammatory to the mix. Those meds have never helped before, but what the heck. Iím willing to give it another try. As Iíve said before, I have to do SOMETHING.

I saw this exercise over at Maryís place, and recognized it as something my friend the English teacher did several years ago as a college assignment. I just love what both My Friend and Mary came up with, and wanted to give it a shot myself. So here goes.

Where Iím From

I am from adjustable roller skates, from Vicks VapoRub and huge pots of spaghetti sauce, thick with meatballs, sausage and bracciole.

I am from a neighborhood of two-family houses, populated with the descendants of working class immigrants, and our very own Boo Radley.

I am from the recurring nightmare of a giant praying mantis assaulting our back door with its front legs clasped in a posture of supplication, and from the vacant lot covered with daffodils that yielded its bounty to a young girl greedy for a basketful of sunshine.

I am from sisters singing Broadway show tunes while washing the dishes. I am from the ďPerri eyes,Ē and from Restituta and Cosmo and Pasquale.

I am from clinical depression and myriad insecurities.

From a shotgun marriage, and a motherís dissatisfaction with her husband, her children and her lot in life.

I am from parochial school, taught by women with dour faces and foreheads deeply creased from the stiff crown bands of their Dominican Nun habits.

I am from New York, Naples, Calabria, Poland and Czechoslovakia, pierogies and lasagna.

From the Italian tailor who built an empire, only to have it suffer the same fate as that of the Romans, the grandmother who, in her youth, hit a boy over the head with her lunchbox because he called her little brother ďginny wop,Ē and from the father who robbed his children of their dreams by making them believe they would never come true.

I am from seashells, dismembered Barbie dolls, moldy cardboard boxes overflowing with dog-eared photographs, and a brain crowded with priceless, loathsome, glorious, painful, treasured memories.

Song of the Day: The Origin of the Species by Pulp

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