I’ve been trying to sit down and write a post all week, and I have been failing miserably. I have no good excuses. I have one bad excuse. We have cable TV now. I think that will explain a lot.
ANYWAY. I felt that perhaps I should inform you all, lest you sit around and worry your pretty little heads unnecessarily, I do not have cancer. The doctor called to say that my skin weirdness that he removed last week came back as just your average, run-of-the-mill skin abnormality. Not the kind that is malignant. The kind that is benign.
Woo Hoo. No cancer for me! But it’s cool. I wasn’t that worried anyway. According to all the fantastic, high definition TV I’ve been watching this week, I have way better chances of getting killed by getting hit by a bus than I do from skin-cancer-turned-everything-else-cancer. You know. Cause everything on TV is true.
God, I love cable. And not having cancer.
P.S. from Zack: Squall line, or Squaw line? Discuss.
Update: For further explanation of Zack’s P.S., see the comments section.
Squall line- a line of severe thunderstorms at the leading edge of a cold front
cable?! as in HBO????
Ryan: Yes. But phonetically, they’re shockingly similar, right? Or perhaps that’s just the Country Bumpkin in me talking. Allow me to explain the situation. This will be something of a post-within-a post. A bonus for those willing to click on the “read comments” link?
Yesterday’s workout assignment from Hal Higdon was “Run 2 Miles + Strength.” I came home from work, farted around for the better part of an hour while I waited for it to cool down outside, and then I went to go get dressed for running. As I was pulling on my running shorts, I heard a clap of thunder outside and immediately became really discouraged. It seems like it always rains on the days when I’m actually looking forward to running. (Or, at the very least, the days when I actually plan on doing it. Looking forward to running is a step that I haven’t actually reached yet, but can see looming off in the horizon of my athletic future.)
Anyway, Zack was in the living room and heard the thunder clap subsequently followed by the start-up tune of the Garmin Runner GPS that I wear when we go out. He asked if we were going to run. I said that yes, I was supposed to run two miles. Zack, being the reasonable creature that he is, suggested that perhaps I check the radar to see what the weather was doing. So I pulled up the radar on NOAA.gov, our favorite weather page, (I’m dropping names all over this comment. Apparently my running-self is really brand-aware) and saw that there was a line of storms that was moving through our neighborhood at that very second. I’d chosen to get my ass off the couch and get ready to go run right as the heart of the storms were directly overhead.
Zack wandered into the room as I was watching the pixelated storm crawl across the screen and asked, “Is that the squall line?” I said, “Yes. But look at this,” as I changed the radar to show the precipitation tracker instead of the storm’s movement. The storm itself was dropping almost no rain at all. As I changed the radar back to the storm tracker screen, Zack said to me, “Yes, but is it the squall line or the squaw line?”
And it was at that moment that I realized how much truth there is to the theory that married people become more like one another through the years. Because while I was tracking a storm on Zack’s favorite weather webpage, he was making ridiculous English jokes for the purpose of self-amusement. If that’s not a classic role reversal, I just don’t know what is.
Sarah1: In my dreams. We have regular, boring cable. Not all-out-awesome, knock-your-socks-off cable. So if you want to get into Mad Men, I’m your Huckleberry. Otherwise, looks like you’ll still have to get your True Blood fix the new-fashioned way. I mostly signed up for cable because since the DTV switch, we only get 3 of the broadcast TV’s channels. Apparently the hospitals to our East block our signals, so paying for TV was the only way to re-gain my ability to watch NBC or the CW.
Isn’t a Squaw like an Indian’s woman or something like that, “She’s my squaw”. I don’t know, Randy calls me that all the time so whatever, it’s cool?? I think it’s also thought of as kind of offensive. Oops.
I’m very happy that your skin wierdness was just that.
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