Measured Extravagance

26 February 2002 - 10:34 p.m.

Oy! It's been snowing on and off all day. It may have been closing the barn door after the cows, but I nevertheless rushed home after my haircut to whisk the pots of prematurely-planted basil into the bathroom (the warmest room in the house). The most amusing moment, however, was when the phlebotomist caught sight of my stocking-less legs and shrieked, "Ain't you COLD?"

"I'm from Chicago."


As it turned out, she was good - got the vein in one. Afterwards, I found out that the woman on the next cot over had had her own bad experiences at the center and demanded an experienced blood-drawer, so I was the beneficiary of her insistence.

Overall, it was probably the most pleasant visit I've had at the local Red Cross to date. When my bag was filled, the phlebotomist joked to the other woman, "You let her beat you! And I wouldn't have bet that way at all - not with those small veins." "I didn't think to bring a book. Next time!" (I'd brought a travel guide with me, and had stayed focused on it throughout the whole procedure.) There have been a couple of additions since my last visit - the bags are now placed on rocking scales as they are being filled, and there are now carrels set up in the waiting room for the pre-donation paperwork.

Over our post-donation cups of decaf, the other woman and I chatted about our home states (Ohio and Kentucky), our churches, and about blood donation - she mentioned having been advised that the phlebotomists for the mobile units tended to be more experienced (since the pace for mobile drives is more steady than at the center), so that might be something to consider after April 23 (my next can-donate-again date) - she goes to the center because it's so convenient to where she works, but it's definitely something I'll keep in mind - there are enough drives around town that I might try that option instead. (The main benefits to going to the center are that I already know the location and that I'm already in the database, which cuts out several lines of form-filling when I pre-schedule.)

Damn, Texas men are sweet. (Thanks for the cheering-up, hon. Thanks to the rest of y'all, too.)

Tuesday Too

1.) In what way is your online personality different from your off line personality?

Dichroic once informed me that I write taller and "more mysterious" than I appear IRL (which goes with the results of the most recent silly quizzie I indulged in, which informed me I was a sphinx).

Hell, I don't know. Quite a few of you have met me in person by now (or already knew me from way back when) - what do you think? (Might as well warn Serpente Mal ((tm) Muhler) and the rest of the ranch ahead of time, nu?)

2.) Do you have an unusual animal story? Tell us about it.

Nothing in the way of unusual stories, but it seems that certain four-legged introverts mellow out around me. Strad's former roommate's cat Clawdia conferred upon me the rare (for her) honor of nuzzling my ankles when I visited him in San Francisco, and Fuzz's pet bunny "Rambun" apparently thinks I'm the equivalent of lapine valerian.

3.) Why would you, or wouldn't you want your mother to read your blog?

My mother is an intensely private person; she would consider all of this escribitionism quite unseemly. (Come to think of it, I'm not entirely convinced it isn't. I could brood about it but I think I'll pour myself a dram instead.)

Oooh. (Forrest Hamer poems online - especially "Arrival".) And this from the latest issue of Poetry, about a woman who keeps asking passers-by for their favorite words:

...she keeps a hundred dollar bill
zipped in her purse.
She almost handed it over
to the woman who responded squelch.
But, for now, she's saving it
for the one who says wrench
and doesn't mean the tool.
    - William Aarnes

One year ago: I'm going to bed early and lulling myself to sleep with fantasies of changing my name to Jeanne-Marie and writing dadaist masterpieces in a garret above a patisserie somewhere in the Low Countries.

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