Palate Cleanser

Elton my brother, you are older than me...

He's 60, I'm, closing in on 50. Time flies regardless of the fun factor. I saw him perform at the Hollywood Bowl when I was in my early teens. He was at the height of his mania. I remember what we both wore.

I can't stand pulling up my blog and seeing the poster of Walter. How am I gonna deal with it in life size form, hanging on my mosaic studio wall? Baby steps, Laura. Plus, I needed a good excuse to post this Elton photo from the Diana Day Debacle. I wrote a long diatribe about how much I hate the 4th of July and chronicled Bianca's third bladder infection in the last nine months necessitating an hour long drive (her screaming all the way) to the emergency clinic in Asheville last Saturday, but it bored me so much I couldn't even edit it.
Whatever.

Still no blood test results. I'm expecting (hoping for is better) a call later this evening. Thursday's sample had "coagulation" issues so we had to go back in Friday afternoon for more torture. Why Bianca couldn't pee in an inappropriate place at some point on Friday is beyond me. She waited until 6:30am Saturday to do it on my comforter, between my legs, ensuring that our vet, and every other vet in western NC, would be off for the holiday. The only good thing about the episode (aside from the fact that it was just another UTI cured by Clavimox), is that I got to drive to REACH in daylight under non-emergency conditions. Should I ever have to make the drive again, god forbid, in a life-threatening panic, I'll have been there once. Not that this guarantees I'll remember the way, since I can't navigate myself out of a paper sack. "Lack of grounding" some could say. "Not fully incarnated" others might offer. Moronic idiot with directions works for me. I pray that if and when this ever occurs I have had no wine that evening. That would be very inconvenient, and frightening, for all concerned. I suppose I could always call the town's cab service. Note to self...