My Gout Condition

 and a few other things.

I'm taking prednisone 20 mg. tablet, 3 tablets per day; loose leaf Pu Erh tea; and Tart cherry juice. One of these items is making me fart non-stop, and given that my diet does not include Tex-Mex Tacos or chili or broccoli, I'm betting it's the prednisone. But maybe not.

As of this writing, I'm better but not completely mended, and my irregular heart beat returned last night. This means a call to my witch doctor and to my cardiologist.

The fun just never ends.

I missed my mother's day post, which irritates me. In lieu of some kind of traditional post, I'll write a few anecdotes about my dear mother. Read on as it amuses you to do so.

Mom taught high school for a living, and generally enjoyed it. She taught business classes, such as typing, shorthand (Greg, if it matters) and economics. The school administrators gave mom the problem students, and she never once had any trouble with them. When I asked her what her secret was, she told me, "Respect." Kids respond to respect and will return it with interest.

Mom taught during the busing era. Separate but equal, and all that. Fights were common, and one day while classes were changing two girls got into a fight. Mom waded right on in a separated them, but one girl would not quit fighting. So, without a second thought, Mom tossed her to the floor and pinned her until she promised to behave. And that was that.

Mom found one student who came from a lower middle class family and was getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. So one evening Mom called the girl's parents and spoke very frankly to the mother, telling her that "You're going to have to decide what you want for your daughter, because right now she's headed for CSI (Child Study Institute, AKA Juvenile Detention, Juvie Jail, Juvenile Detention Center)." With a little more help from Mom, the girl straightened up and became successful. 

We had a weeping willow tree in our side yard, and as a pre-school primate I enjoyed climbing it. The trouble was I could go up, but I couldn't find my way down. So I yelled for Mom. Seeing my predicament Mom climbed up and carried me down. This went on until Mom stood at the bottom of the tree and told me I could climb down, then waited around until I made it down. Well, that was a real accomplishment, but not near as much fun as having Mom come out and rescue me.

I remember vividly looking at other kids' mothers, and thinking that they were fat and lazy, and couldn't climb a step ladder let alone a tree or a makeshift ladder into the haymow - another place where Mom had to carry me. 

But that was Mom.