Why am I watching golf?! I don't even PLAY golf! (Well, except occasionally on my sweetie's best friend's Nintendo Wii.) And yet this afternoon, I found myself vaguely watching The Masters (and actively rooting against Tiger) for more than an hour.
It must be something about the invalid/convalescent mindset -- golf is so soothing, with those vast swaths of greens, and soft-spoken (almost hushed) commentators. Plus, I find the collective "ooohs!" and "aaaaahs!" of the gallery to be entertaining. And I like Phil Mickelson, although I find it odd to realize he is actually 2 years younger than me, when until today, I had always thought he was older than me! Maybe it's because he's such a big guy (6'3"!) so that makes him look older.
Unlike that idiot-jerk who cheated on his wife with anyone with a pulse, for the past year poor Mr. Mickelson has been sandwiched between both a wife AND a mother who are undergoing breast cancer treatment. Fortunately, both women are said to be doing well, treatment-wise (I'm sure they're not exactly having fun, but as these things go, they're doing well) but one of the questions the commentator asked today in an effort to be insightful struck me as inane/ downright dumb (yes, I know -- they have to fill up airtime somehow).
He asked something like "how much would it mean to Amy [his wife] if you brought home the trophy this weekend?" Now, I have no idea what their marriage is like, but I can definitely tell you that if my sweetie had brought home say, the Nobel equivalent for engineering (whatever -- you get the idea) it would not really have made me go, "Oh, honey -- this makes chemo so much easier!" Moron. Yes, the reporter was a guy.
Since I'm not a stay at home wife and mom, I dunno, maybe my reaction would be different if I were...? (But I doubt it.) I mean, I'd be happy for my sweetie, but it wouldn't have made the world a rosier place for ME. (Watching a steady diet of daytime TV this week has only reinforced my opinion that most TV journalists are twits.)
Speaking of being sick, I have moved on to more solid food today -- woohoo! With the exception of the carrots in my chicken barley soup (which I dug out from the freezer), I have stuck to the whole beige food rule: saltines, graham crackers, apple juice, an English muffin with some honey. I think if I hadn't had the soup (which had some actual dead animal in it), my eyes would have crossed with culinary boredom.
Mentally, after a week of hospital food, I'm starting to crave some variety (and dead animal -- like a burger... mmmm...) but realistically, I don't think I could handle it without, er, violent repercussions, shall we say.
It's a weird, slightly schizophrenic feeling. Hmmmm...
On to more pleasant topics, like the photos of Koh Samui, Thailand from my engineer. Having left the chaos of the redshirt-filled capital behind him, he is off to dive some WWII wrecks. The photo up top was shot during his approach to the cove, while the shot below is the view from his US$10/night hotel room. (You will note he chose to show the view and not the room, heh.)
Both my own postponed trip and these photos have made me newly ambitious: I will be kidnapping my engineer for a trip somewhere this summer. My last trip was to Seattle in August (hi Margaret!) and I'm getting a hankering to pack my bag (yes, singular) and go somewhere pretty with my sweetie. Suggestions anyone?
It must be something about the invalid/convalescent mindset -- golf is so soothing, with those vast swaths of greens, and soft-spoken (almost hushed) commentators. Plus, I find the collective "ooohs!" and "aaaaahs!" of the gallery to be entertaining. And I like Phil Mickelson, although I find it odd to realize he is actually 2 years younger than me, when until today, I had always thought he was older than me! Maybe it's because he's such a big guy (6'3"!) so that makes him look older.
Unlike that idiot-jerk who cheated on his wife with anyone with a pulse, for the past year poor Mr. Mickelson has been sandwiched between both a wife AND a mother who are undergoing breast cancer treatment. Fortunately, both women are said to be doing well, treatment-wise (I'm sure they're not exactly having fun, but as these things go, they're doing well) but one of the questions the commentator asked today in an effort to be insightful struck me as inane/ downright dumb (yes, I know -- they have to fill up airtime somehow).
He asked something like "how much would it mean to Amy [his wife] if you brought home the trophy this weekend?" Now, I have no idea what their marriage is like, but I can definitely tell you that if my sweetie had brought home say, the Nobel equivalent for engineering (whatever -- you get the idea) it would not really have made me go, "Oh, honey -- this makes chemo so much easier!" Moron. Yes, the reporter was a guy.
Since I'm not a stay at home wife and mom, I dunno, maybe my reaction would be different if I were...? (But I doubt it.) I mean, I'd be happy for my sweetie, but it wouldn't have made the world a rosier place for ME. (Watching a steady diet of daytime TV this week has only reinforced my opinion that most TV journalists are twits.)
Speaking of being sick, I have moved on to more solid food today -- woohoo! With the exception of the carrots in my chicken barley soup (which I dug out from the freezer), I have stuck to the whole beige food rule: saltines, graham crackers, apple juice, an English muffin with some honey. I think if I hadn't had the soup (which had some actual dead animal in it), my eyes would have crossed with culinary boredom.
Mentally, after a week of hospital food, I'm starting to crave some variety (and dead animal -- like a burger... mmmm...) but realistically, I don't think I could handle it without, er, violent repercussions, shall we say.
It's a weird, slightly schizophrenic feeling. Hmmmm...
On to more pleasant topics, like the photos of Koh Samui, Thailand from my engineer. Having left the chaos of the redshirt-filled capital behind him, he is off to dive some WWII wrecks. The photo up top was shot during his approach to the cove, while the shot below is the view from his US$10/night hotel room. (You will note he chose to show the view and not the room, heh.)
Both my own postponed trip and these photos have made me newly ambitious: I will be kidnapping my engineer for a trip somewhere this summer. My last trip was to Seattle in August (hi Margaret!) and I'm getting a hankering to pack my bag (yes, singular) and go somewhere pretty with my sweetie. Suggestions anyone?
