My flying hobby continues to be an expensive one and it is not clear how long I can hang in there, as the pot of money out of which the flying is financed, is beginning to show its bottom. We decided to continue to stock the airplane account with extra money for the next 6 to 7 month so that when the engine overhaul is needed, we are ready. It’s a good prudent financial strategy, better than that of our country, but a little painful each month.
After our meeting I hang around the flight center for awhile watching the fog stay close to the ground. I went home and decided it was a baking kind of day, as the rain was pouring outside, filling our septic tanks with rainwater from higher up neighbors. This means no washing, no flushing and no showers. Baking, indeed.
My neighbor Ellen from across the cove, who has struggled with an ankle injury for the last 20 or so years, and knows a lot about orthopedic surgeons, gave me some telephone advice. It is advice from a master, or mistress rather, and sums up what’s not working about orthopedic practice at least in the Boston area. She is flying to Chicago for advice and help, as the Boston top docs are too busy with celebrities, sports and other. She lent me the book ‘How Doctors Think’ and advised me to read the section on surgery and satisfaction, which I did right away. It is sobering and a little frightening, but also showed me that I did right to get more opinions about what to do with my ankle; it also made me realize that I should not expect as much closure and/or clarity as I had from the November appointments at MGH and Faulkner and prepared me to expect a very (VERY) brief appearance of the big doctor himself and a tendency to say ‘cut.’
In the evening we went to Edith and Hugh for a pre-concert meal of paella, salad, followed by the Tiramisu I had made that was rich in everything that is bad for you. The brandy-soaked lady fingers (one and a third cup!!) nearly went to my head. The brandy was antique Christian Brothers that we inherited from Penny, so at least 15 years old, if not older. We don’t know how long she had it, but it had not lost any of its zing or punch.
The concert was put on as a fundraiser by the Ipswich Music, Art and Drama Association and opened by a boy band whose high school music teachers where in the audience; a local affair. The main attraction was a wonderful Big Band/Blues ensemble, called Roomful of Blues. I have never listened to a band like that sitting in a theatre chair. No one was sitting still though. The only people who did not stay in their chairs, apart from Chuck and Edith and a few older boomers, were the 13 and 14 year old girls who jumped around like balls of mercury in front of the stage, their ponytails bobbing up and down, holding hands and giggling, one clique on each side of the stage. When I was that age I was told you could only dance if a boy asked you, which of course is the last thing a boy that age would do. They few little boys that did dare to move close to the band were playing air drum or air guitar. You could see how badly they wanted to be like the guys on the stage. Maybe some will, one day, like the boy band.
We ended the day watching Saturday Night Life which opened with an interview between Tina Fey and Amy Poehler as Sarah Palin and Katy Couric. It was priceless. I think I will get that Sarah Palin action doll.
Sylvia's Journal 
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