the story of wee Johnny

My doctor tells me some months ago when I turned 45 "you should come in for a physical" and I am like "I had one a few years ago, when I was 40. I will be back when I am 50." And she is like "you should come every year. You have your car inspected every year!" and I was like "hmmm", thinking I will come now, then when I am 50. Twice a decade should be good enough, as long as I remain a superb specimen of the human species, feeling like I am in glowing good health.

We chose our doctor when we were new to town and given a list--I loved her name! She has the prettiest and most interesting name, and her office is nearby. Turns out she is our age and fantastic, and, well, you later think to yourself "this one lady has, um, put her hands onto me and my wife, in, well, intimate places....she has boldly gone where no spouse would go" you could say.

You don't want to look all nasty when you are having a physical, which made me notice my grotty toes. I trimmed those nails, buffed them to a shine, good as new! BUT, the socks never came off, how disappointing! Shouldn't a physical include the FEET, at least a brief glance? But, well, she was thorough in every other regard, of course, COUGH.

I unloaded all the crap from my pockets when they weighed me. Nurse probably wondered why there was a camera in my pocket. And they tell me I have grown! I am 5 nine! The wife tells me, in a matter of fact way "but they didn't tell you to take off your shoes!" but its kinda fun to feel like I have grown from five 8, even if it is fake. I am sitting here feeling faint-ish, needing my breakfast but s'posed to go give blood.....

Now, as for wee little Johnny. What a useless item those little tops are, aren't they? Not even worth stealing.

(also, our dogs below--old Buster's back legs are so tired! Penny is such a clown)