Hey, I Got an Article Published!

 Here's the link. https://www.kevinmd.com/2024/05/can-weight-loss-medication-interfere-with-adhd-meds.html#commentsModal

I'm also gonna be on Kevin MD's podcast on an episode being recorded June 13. I'll also send the link for that, when I get it.

In other news, Dallas was hit by some major storms and we are okay and undamaged but sans power. This is cramping my techie lifestyle as you might imagine. Hopefully that will be fixed soon. Meantime, be excellent to each other, and party on. 😎

Eatin' Good in the Neighborhood

 I realize the earth may crack asunder and the heavens tear open if I write two blog posts in one week, not to mention within two days of each other.  But I just gotta take the risk.  Joan & I stopped at the local Applebee's to grab a quick bite.  Where we had the most surreal restaurant experience ever. I mean this put the sushi restaurant with the fish conveyor belt to shame.  I may not ever eat out again.  

What happened:  We had just been to Half Price Books.  It has come to our attention that if we ever want to get a new washer & dryer, we're gonna have to clean out our spare room so that the door on the far end is accessible.  That's the only feasible way in or out of that room with a large object.  There's no way anybody's wrestling a full size washing machine through the ridiculously narrow door from our kitchen and down that tiny staircase.  I'm sorry, but they'd have to dismantle it, take it down a piece at a time and reassemble it once they got it down.  Ain't nobody got time for that.  

The problem is, the space in front of the door at the other end is full of boxes of books.  We had to box everything up in order to paint down there, which was another crazy adventure I should tell you about sometime, but anyway, we no longer have enough bookshelves to accommodate all the books.  So a bunch of the books gotta go.  We've been going through the boxes one by one and dividing them into "keep" and "Half Price Books."  Today we hauled five boxes down there and sold them for around $90.  Sweet, right?  Well, read on.

So we were on our way back home and we stopped at Applebee's.  By their very nature, Joan distrusts restaurants with apostrophes in their titles.  Chili's, Bennigan's (no longer in existence), Cheddar's, places like that.  They all seem to be substandard in food and service, or at least service.  But hey, it was after eight and it was a Sunday.  Most restaurants were already closed.  So to Applebee's we went.  And then the fun began.

To begin with, it didn't seem like anybody was in any hurry.  There was no hostess.  We waited at the hostess stand (which, oddly, had an upside-down sign posted that said "Please wait to be seated") for about ten minutes.  After which I said, "Hey, the sign's upside down.  Let's take that as a clue that it really means the opposite and find a table."

Which we did.  Some time later, a confused waiter came by and asked if anyone had taken our drink orders.  We said no, and he did so.  He did not, however, hand us the menus that he was carrying.  Which I thought were for us.  So I followed him, and when he stopped at the cashier's station I asked if I could have the menus.  He said, "Oh yes, of course.  I'm sorry."  Then, "Did you seat yourselves?"  I admitted we had.  "Oh, okay.  Okay.  Yes, I'll be right with you."

So I took the menus back, and absconded with straws and silverware while I was at it.  We looked over the menu and picked out some stuff to order.  Then--nothing happened.  I mean there was a basketball game on, and we were watching it, and we noticed there was only this one waiter on the floor, and then another guy showed up to take our order.  We were kind of surprised and he said, "Oh, did someone already take your order?"  I said, "Well, we ordered drinks, but--" "Okay."  And he zoomed off.  To get our drinks, we thought, only he never came back. 

More time went by.  The basketball game got more interesting. Joan broke out her Tarot cards and I asked her what I'd told Joan I wanted for my birthday, which I no longer remembered and which she hadn't written down.  The answer was the two of pentacles (tough decision), the four of pentacles (it was expensive), and Judgment (I have no idea what that means).  Normally you can't start flipping Tarot cards around in a public place without at least one person nearby losing their shit.  I mean, this is Texas.  But nobody turned a hair.  

Some 20 minutes after we ordered our drinks, the first waiter showed up with them and apologized for the wait.  "I'm the only server here.  We had three people call in sick tonight."  He took our order and we mentioned there had been someone else and he said, "Oh, that guy?  He's a cook.  He's just trying to help me out."

While that was going on, this family of a mom, dad, three kids and one kid on the way settled into a booth nearby.  The kids were actually doing great, coloring away.  The youngest one started to get a little boisterous.  Mom started to look seriously annoyed, and after a while she and Dad and brood got up and left.  Numerous tables, not bussed from previous diners, sat around.  The manager walked out, looked around and then disappeared.  He did this at least two or three more times.  

Just then, a shouting match broke out between our waiter and a customer.  Not sure of all the issues exactly, but it seemed to have something to do with a tip, or the lack of one.  It sounded like this:  "Not for a forty-nine cent tip, dude.  No.  No, just get out of here."  The shouting brought the manager back out.  The manager was trying to calm everything down, the waiter was trying to explain what happened, the customer kept asking for his goddamn card back, please, and then the other guy who had appeared on the floor came out with our food.

Which was, to be honest, very good food.  I had no complaints.  Our waiter showed back up next to our table and said he was sorry for the commotion.  He had three tables waiting for their checks and he hadn't forgotten about us and he was just going to vent, if that was okay.  He started doing exactly that and then  somebody else yelled for his attention.

The manager came back out and called the waiter and the other guy, the cook, over.  Thus began a three way conversation with all three of them talking over each other and saying "No, dude, it's like this" and weird apparently restaurant-related gestures.  The volume went up.  The comprehensibility went down.  The manager broke it off, walked over and started talking to a customer about something.  The basketball game ended and another one started.  Our waiter came over, apologized again, and said he'd be right back.  He came out of the kitchen with a bus cart and started bussing the many vacated tables, only he never got to do any of it because some other customer came up and started to complain that he'd been double charged on his credit card.  The snippets of that conversation sounded like this: "No, it didn't go through.  It didn't go through, sir.  There was an error message.  No, I can't print you a receipt because there isn't one. Do you want me to train you on how this works so you can see for yourself? Because there wasn't a charge, sir.  No, you'd have to ask your bank that, sir.  Sir, you're not understanding me.  No, I can't run it back in the machine because it's not there."  

The manager reappeared and started talking to the customer.  The waiter went past us and started talking to someone behind us.  A few minutes later, somebody burst into song.  "Amazing Grace." Good voice, too.  We turned to look and it was our waiter!  He was serenading a table of African-American people.  We were too far away to see if they thought was cool, or just weird.

Around this point Joan and I decided we might just wanna pay for the food with the cash from the bookstore and get the heck out of there before someone whipped out a gun.  I mean, this is Texas.  All told, we were in this Applebee's for just under two hours.  So maybe Joan's right about apostrophe restaurants.  Anyway, the food was good.  

Mini-Post: Transition Fluid

 So I found out recently I gotta have a total knee replacement (!).  This'll be my second surgery on the same knee and hopefully the last.  I say hopefully because I'm technically too young to have knee replacement surgery and a knee implant only lasts like 15 years so if God forbid I live past 70, I may have to have another one.  Or maybe even sooner since implants are likely to fail sooner if you're fat.  And I am, Blanche, I am.  Anyway, I don't expect to live a long life since I've been ingesting large quantities of toxic meds since I was 40, but still, it could happen.  That's happening June 4 which is really soon.  I'll be off from work for 2 weeks and ease back in part time, from home, as I get off the high test drugs. 😳

Meanwhile, I find myself wanting to stop doing stuff I've been doing for years because I'm realizing it's no longer doing anything for me.  Not swimming, thank God.  It's bad enough I have to not swim for a month because I won't be able to drive.  But I'm a member, say, of this book group.  We've been meeting once a month for years and I've gotten pretty fed up with it.  We picked a science fiction book where slavery was still legal and I wasn't gonna read that one.  I don't read stuff about slavery unless it's historical and there are reasons for that.  I like to be informed but I don't like to have my psyche traumatized.  So no, I've never seen Twelve Years a Slave or Roots.  (I didn't watch Game of Thrones, either, and I quit watching The Handmaid's Tale, compelling as it is, by Season Two Episode One.  Halfway thru, in fact.) So I skipped that meeting.

Then when I do go to meetings there's this one woman who Just. Won't. Shut. Up. And what she generally talks about is herself and how smart she is.  It rarely has any relation to the book.  I mean look, we're all smart.  It's Mensa.  And the moderator isn't inclined to moderate.  And  I wanna read what I wanna read, and my reading time is somewhat limited.  So I'm probably done with the book group.  I may not just leave quietly, tho, because that's not my style.  I may have to tell her, as I'm leaving, that nobody cares how smart she is and that I, for one, am sick of hearing about it.  I mean, they're gonna talk about me regardless.  So I may as well say something I'm proud of. 

The second thing: I've been going to Overeaters Anonymous meetings for a long time, probably 15 years or more. And--I think I've kind of run out of patience with it.  Part of the issue is that I don't believe in God, and though these A groups will tell you it doesn't matter if you believe in God or not, the program is totally and transparently Christian.  Fine, if you've got the patience for that, but I'm increasingly finding that I don't.  Also, I was at a workshop thingy and this lady was announcing that she had "eaten her way up to ___ number of pounds and she was just suicidal" and I thought, "Huh.  That's 30 pounds less than I weigh now.  I guess I should have thrown myself under a passing bus years ago."

Definitely no more workshops.  I may or may not keep going to meetings.  Everyone I've met there is very nice and we have kind of a mutual support society when each other need favors.  I'm fine with all that.  But the dogma and such and this "you must lose weight or die" thing is something I'm just not going along with anymore. I think people are the sizes they are because of the way their lives unfolded, and some of us are big and some are small, and that's the way it is.  We're evolutionarily designed to gain weight, not lose it.  I go into why in this blog post and this one, and yes, the Aunt Friedas among us can lose lots of weight and never gain it back, but Aunt Friedas are 5-15% of the population.  The rest of us are biologically screwed, though some more than others. 

(And please don't come on here telling me, "If I can do it, anybody can."  No, if you can do it, you're probably in that 5 to 15 percent.  Don't assume your experience is universal to the other 85 to 95 percent of us.  I used to do that, and then one day I found out that being the eldest child of Lutheran parents in Salt Lake City in the 1970s is actually a pretty uncommon experience and that most people have no clue what I'm talking about when I say a stranger tried to pick me up in her car and drive me to Primary because they have no idea what Primary even is or why I did not find that experience alarming because it happened so frequently.) 

So what I'm saying is, it's not really helpful to be around people who are so obsessed with food, not eating food, having a food plan and trusting God.  I don't think about food that much, unless I happen to be hungry.  I eat my regular meals at my regular times and I'm good.  And no, I don't get any smaller, but I don't get any bigger, either.  I have reached that rare thing, equilibrium.  I don't think about God much either, unless somebody crashes into my Threads feed demanding to know why I don't follow Jesus. (Generally because someone quote-posted him there, which is why I block people who quote-post people.  Your phone screenshots just fine, you know, and then we can all mock them together.)  So you can see how I'm maybe not a great fit for this organization, though I do like everybody.  

I dunno. It seems like a lot of us spend a lot of time doing stuff we think we're supposed to enjoy.  For me that included driving a motorboat, skiing and gardening, among other things.  Driving a motorboat always seemed like a much scarier version of driving a car, with fewer rules, more idiots and more alcohol.  Luckily, I can't afford a motorboat so I got out of that job fairly early in life.  Skiing is great, but once every three or four years for a week is plenty.  (I won't be able to ski after my surgery.  Which is fine, I really couldn't ski before my surgery either.)  And gardening? Tried it for a year.  Grew some excellent onions, which escaped and now grow wild throughout my lawn. Which is kind of cool.  But otherwise?  Hated it.  Glad it's over.  I don't even mow my own lawn anymore.  I cheerfully pay someone else to do that for me.

But, like, we're all adults now, right?  We don't have to keep doing stuff we don't enjoy.  We can stop, and do other things.  Maybe you like going out with friends, drinking too much and singing songs all the way home.  Or maybe you just do that because it's expected behavior and you'd rather be at home binge-watching Gray's Anatomy.  This is me giving you permission to stay home and binge-watch Gray's Anatomy.  You don't have to take your kids to youth soccer games, either, if you don't like it and they don't like it and you're only doing it because you think it's good for them.  Maybe they'd rather play baseball or hockey.  Or chess.  Or even nothing.  (I always felt bad for my parents having to go to swim meets.  You're sitting on hard benches, you're there for three hours, your kid's in the water for 30 seconds and if your kid is me, they always place dead last.)  If you're a square peg, you don't have to keep ramming yourself into a round hole just because everyone else does.  It's a big world.  There's room for everybody.

And if you find that you don't have time to do the things you enjoy, regardless of what they are, that whole work/life balance thing really needs adjusting.  Life's short.  I had a good friend die of a brain aneurysm at the age of 26.  I hope I'll make it to 70, but there are no guarantees.  We're all here to learn stuff, but also to have a good time and experience the joys of walking around in a human body.  So go experience some of those joys, you guys.  Tell them Jen sent you.  

Lost in Oklahoma

So yesterday was my wife Joan's birthday.  She turned 65.  Big year, retirement looming (probably not really for a while, but at least possible now in case she gets fed up) and of course a 5 year.  I have a thing in the afternoon but the plan is go go to the Roughriders ballpark and catch a game, have hotdogs and Cracker Jacks and ridiculous ice cream cookie sandwiches and that whole thing.  I even have advance tickets, for a change. (You can usually get last minute tickets, and even good seats, for the Roughriders.  But the games are lots of fun whether they win or not, it's very family friendly and nobody's an asshole, at least so far.)  

Well, it comes to be time to drive up there and we are not paying attention to the time and messing around with other things.  About the time of the second inning we figure out we aren't going to make it to the ballpark.  So we turn on the Rangers game and eat lasagna and I fell asleep on the couch (I do this a lot) and wake up around ten.  

I suggest we could drive north into Collin County to where it looks like the Metroplex is relatively clear of cloud cover and maybe see the Northern Lights, which are being spotted all over the world right now due to a geomagnetic storm.  Wild colors, too, like pink and purple, which are very rare.  (I spent part of my formative years in North Dakota in the summer, where we saw them often.)  So we pile into the Rav-4 and Joan takes out the address of John and Donaleigh, who live somewhere near Anna, Texas.  She isn't sure exactly where that is, just that it's really dark up there.  We plug it into the GPS.  Sirius Channel 26 is playing the Saturday Night Party Train, which is all new wave dance music and no DJs.  We set off, singing along to "One Night in Bangkok" and "You Were Always On My Mind."

The Dallas North Tollway winds north out of downtown and up into Collin County.  Much to our surprise, it then kind of ends, and becomes this two lane road.  So we're still going north but there are still clouds and it's raining a little, No sign of aurora. Joan says she remembers there's a Buc-cee's around here somewhere.  Doesn't look like any Northern Lights are in the offing.  So the new goal is find the Buc-cee's and buy lots of ridiculous treats like banana walnut fudge and hot and spicy Buc-cee's Nug-gees. 

Joan is sure there is a Buc-ee's on the way to John and Donaleigh's.  We just can't find it.  I finally get GPS to search for one and it shows up some 13 miles away.  We're on the wrong highway. Which is not surprising, the roads up there get weird.  I sort of think there's an interdimensional portal between the 75 and the Tollway.  So we wind down these increasingly dark and isolated rural roads and make jokes about how "Wrong Turn" started out just like this and will we run into a bear and stuff like that.  At one point we passed a sheriff's car sitting by the side of the road with its lights off.  We sort of pause at the intersection and wait for the officers to come over and search our vehicle for drugs and somehow "find" a baggie on the floorboards or something, but that doesn't happen so we drive on.  

Finally we come across Bloomdale Road.  I know that one, it goes through downtown McKinney.  I know that because the courthouse is on Bloomdale Road and I've sent them numerous packages.  So we turn that way and pretty soon we stumble over the 75 Freeway which is still a freeway, even way up there.  

We get on that and turn north.  I think.  Pretty soon Buc-cee's comes into view.  We park in the front spot, break out the Rollators and make a parade into the store.  It's pretty busy even at midnight on a Saturday.  We buy banana walnut fudge, Buc-cee's Nug-ees, a giant cinnamon roll, chocolate chip cookie dough and two sodas.  On the way out we run into a crowd of kids coming in from prom in their evening gowns and tuxedos. I'm sorry but kids in prom attire are just so cute.  I'm wanting to ask them if we can take pics but Joan kinda doesn't think that would be polite.  

We decide to head home.  Get back on the freeway, drive through Melissa and Anna and then Denison, Texas, which I've never heard of.  We pass Grayson College and we're both like, "Hey, we didn't know there was a college named after our cat" and debated whether our Grayson was an esteemed professor or Dean of Feline Studies.  We pass Texoma Hospital. What? Then we pass a sign that says "Oklahoma 4 miles."  And then we figure it out.  Apparently when I thought we were heading south on the 75 we were actually heading north and had been for about 20 minutes. 

So we turn around just shy of Oklahoma, which is good because I don't speak the language and carry no currency.  Then we see the Buc-cee's and we stop again because both of us need to pee by now.  Saturday Night Party Train is still on and there's a huge thunderstorm rolling across the Dallas area from the west to the east.  We see lightning strike the ground over and over as we get closer.  It doesn't start to rain on us again until we are almost home. An hour and ten minutes later.

We finally pull back in the driveway at 2:30 AM, just over 4 1/2 hours after we first left the house. "In a Big Country" comes on the radio just as we get there so we crank it up, sing along and make out in the front seat.  Then we step out into the rain and I have to just stand there for a sec, like I always do when I've been sitting for a long time, to get my knee speaking to me before we can walk inside.  I'm sitting here dripping wet, writing this and waiting for Eye Drop no. 2 to kick in so I can take Eye Drop No. 3 and go to bed.  

We never did see the Northern Lights.  But that's okay.