The next new start

Blogging is good for me.  That may be why I have avoided it for so long.  Like exercise, Kale, and an in-depth study and analysis of our current political situation, I know I should,  . . . I SHOULD, . . .Tomorrow.

But I am at least mature enough to do those annual medical things.  Like the mammogram.  The radiologist didn't like one of the pictures and asked me to come back. (It was sort of like finding a footprint in the snow that might have been left by a polar bear.  Polar bears are dangerous things.  Let's check this out more carefully.) so I made my appointment and went in again. The nice nurse pressed and flattened and squeezed my breast from every possible angle.  I was waiting for her to  say, "Now for this next one, you'll need to stand on your head . . ."  Then she left me in my stylish paper gown and took my pictures in to the radiologist.  At least they keep the waiting area nice and warm.  I've been in clinics that are as chill as a vegetable crisper.  I figured there would be a wait.  I brought my knitting.

Finally she returned.  The picture was clearer, but still not definitive (This is a footprint, but we can't say for sure what animal made it.) so I was sent on to the ultra-sound lab, where I was again mauled, squeezed and compressed until the nice lab tech got a clear enough picture of things.  I have dense breasts (stupid boobs) which make it difficult to see things clearly.  Rather like looking for a polar bear in a blizzard.  After all but shoving the wand between two of my ribs, the ultrasound tech and the radiologist agreed that they couldn't find that polar bear, but that didn't mean it wasn't out there, because something left that track.  Please come back in six months to repeat the process.

So I got in my car and headed home(feeling rather bruised and sorry for myself, and worrying a bit about that damn polar bear) but before I got out of the parking lot, another car  turned left across the flow of traffic right in front of me and I hit it.  No injuries.  No citations.  My air bag didn't even deploy.  My brave little habanero orange Prius nobly sacrificed itself to protect me.  It was the other driver's fault.  My car was totaled.

I spent two weeks without a car, relying on Kyle's kindness to take me where I needed to go.  I got a fair amount of sewing done, finished knitting an afghan, and started binge-watching "The Great British Baking Show."  And before you know it, the check had cleared the bank and we were  shopping for another car for me.  Kyle was on line and searching all over the US.  I wanted another orange Prius.  There were three available, one in New Jersey, one in Georgia, and one in LA. Not worth the shipping. Then he asked, "Would you like a yellow car?"  I could find the orange Prius in any parking lot I used.  Yellow might be equally visible so I agreed to try one on for size.  I am now the proud possessor of a 2014 Prius C, colored like a school bus.  HIGH visibility.  I'm calling her The Lemon Shark.

Yesterday, at 7:30 AM I took her in to get a few things adjusted.  As I was cruising down the freeway, (with an 18 wheeler on my tail), I saw a young man in the breakdown lane , crouched over and staggering.  He braced both hands against the jersey barrier and seemed to convulse.  I couldn't stomp on the brakes, but as I was looking for a place to pull over, I passed a young skunk trying to climb the barrier.  And I realized that this was a good deed which had not gone unpunished.  The poor boy had tried to rescue the skunk, and the skunk had defended itself.  What is the standard first aid for skunk spray?  I don't know.  Since it didn't appear to be life threatening, I drove on.