Thursday, February 9, 2023

 Thursday, February 9, 2023

     I had to get up early, at six, because we had driveway yoga this morning. I don’t do my in-bed exercises when there is yoga. I get those stretches in during the class. I passed on using a chair today for the first time in years and opted to sit on yoga blocks. I needed two sets (one for each buttock) two blocks high. I tried to squat to sit. I got nowhere near low enough to make contact with them. I used to do that. Okay, it was thirty years ago.

  Melissa called. She is a retired Kaiser doctor who travels to Seattle and the Australian outback as a volunteer obstetrician. She mostly spends her time delivering babies but also does some surgery. I told her about my UTI problem. I suspected one earlier in the month and had a urine analysis. The doctor prescribed amoxicillin before the culture came in. A few days after I finished the antibiotics, the symptoms returned. I didn’t understand why the infection wasn’t gone. I requested another urine analysis. I wasn’t convinced I didn’t have a more serious problem. My dog Chantey had repeated urinary tract problems. It was cancer. Did I have cancer?  

   Melissa directed me to look up the culture results, which take longer to process than the initial test. While the first urine analysis reported ambiguous results, the culture said E. coli. Melissa told me amoxicillin wouldn’t have any impact on E. coli. My problem was clear. The doctor prescribed a stronger antibiotic. In the future, I will insist on waiting for the culture to return before taking an antibiotic. Because I didn’t, I had two rounds of antibiotics. I prefer to avoid this medication.

   Scott came in and said he couldn’t find the chainsaw or the commercial-sized sprayer in the shed. We had a moment of panic. Did the gardeners confuse their equipment with mine, or did they help themselves? I thought to check with B. Did he have the equipment? Yes, he did. Of course, I had given him permission to use it. He stored it in his area instead of returning it to the shed. He would make more use of it than I would. I said I preferred keeping it in the shed when not in use.

    Damon, the artist, called yesterday afternoon to say he had finished staining the wedges. I should meet him and give him the final payment. I was disappointed. The wedges look like dirty cement. That’s what I was trying to avoid.

      Nonetheless, I wanted the wedges moved to the gravesite. We needed someone to help Damon lift them. A man walked into the cemetery dressed in workmen’s clothes. I asked him if he could help. He looked at the gravestones and said, “Those are mine.” Huh? It was the man I hired to make them. How’s that for coincidence?   

   I had an appointment with Melanie, the aesthetician. I saw her once before. She concentrated on lovely SPA treatments to make the surface look beautiful. This time, I asked her to focus on extractions. I learned I had large pores. I have noticed them on my nose. Yuck! Melanie explained people are born with pore size. She had small pores. The large pores collect dirt, creating black and white heads. She cleaned up the clogged pores on my face with a size 18 hypodermic needle. I had no idea how she used it.

   I asked Melanie what made her get into this profession. People’s stories are interesting. She had terrible acne when young. That made her interested. The rest is history.

   I went to a hair appointment upon leaving Melanie. She knew Randee, my hairdresser, and had a gift for her. She wrote a quick note and handed it to me. It’s the Big Island; everyone knows everyone. I knew I would be early for my appointment. I brought my computer with me to do some work while waiting in the car. Randee was running late, to boot. I was tired. Set my alarm, texted Randee to let her know where I was, pushed the car seat back, and napped.

  It is always great seeing Randee. She is an up personality, and she loves cutting my hair. I let her do whatever she wants. Her cuts look great until the moment it is cut again, no matter how long the interval. During Covid, I waited three months before I got a haircut. My hair didn’t have a bad moment. Some people complain about the service available here; it’s a third-world country. It was one in the sixties and seventies. A friend’s father brought his own toothpaste when he came to visit. We now have Safeway, Walmart, Target, and Costco. You can get whatever kind of toothpaste you like. I have found some of the best service providers ever. I have lived in Brooklyn, New York, Princeton, New Jersey, and Columbus, Ohio. Here, I have found the best of everything on my first try.