Experimenting -- Am I or Am I Not?

A week with a holiday on Wednesday is a complete waste of both a holiday and a work week.

During the first part, nobody gets too enthused about doing anything, because, after all, . . . “we’re off on Wednesday.”  When you come back on Thursday, the same reasoning prevents starting any new projects. 

Besides, half of your coworkers have taken off either the first or last half of the week, or both, so essential personnel aren’t available.  It is a week of piddling without breaking a sweat (metaphorically speaking; it’s 102 degrees out there this afternoon).

It’s also too hot to even think about cooking, which means that we had the “where you wanna eat” discussion along about 5:00. 

Red Lobster won.

It won for a couple of reasons, not the least of which that we wanted to try an experiment to see if I really had acquired a shellfish allergy. 

Where better to test this theory than a seafood restaurant.

Besides, we know that my doc is in town, the hospital is less than 10 minutes away from the restaurant, and I had my epi-pen, which is a real pain to have to remember, with me.

A shrimp lover’s feast awaited.

The lobby to Red Lobster is my favorite part of the restaurant, especially if there are little kids.   The lobster tank is both fascinating and within reach unless the parental units are really on their guard.  I learned this early on when Caleb, upon seeing a similar tank in the grocery store, promptly ran up to it and asked in his loudest 7 year old voice, “WHY DO THEY HAVE THEM BIG BUGS IN THE GROCERY STORE?”

Today, an even younger child noted that the entrees on the hoof at Red Lobster were, “. . . taking a shower before dinner,” a reference to the recirculating pump that kept the water aerated in the tank.

It’s all a matter of perspective.

So anyhow, we ordered (a beer first; if there was going to be a hospital stay involved, I wanted to get a bit of early relaxation going) and then our food.

It was very systematic – take a bite, check for symptoms.  Take a bite, check for symptoms.

At least, that’s what I was doing.  About halfway through the meal, I observed that there didn’t seem to be any adverse reaction. 

Sweating?  Yeah – it was still triple-digits outside.  I defy anyone my age and size NOT to sweat, despite air conditioning.  Not clammy, though (at least not that I could tell from the inside of my skin) and the sweat wasn’t such that it seemed to be shellfish-related.

Not being the one with the medical expertise in our family unit, though, I turned to the in-house expert for a second opinion only to realize that he had forgotten that we weren’t just at dinner but were engaged in a serious experiment to see whether I "swole up" and was gonna die or not.

The only thing on my first-responder’s mind by then was whether or not I was going to eat those last 3 shrimp on my plate, once again proving that it is imperative that the patient be involved in his own healthcare plan.

In the end, the experiment was successful.  It confirmed that I continue to get significant indigestion when eating deep-fried anything, which is unfortunate given my dietary preferences, but concerns about a shellfish allergy seem to have been misdiagnosed.  

I wish I'd known that before we went to Maui on vacation.  

But now instead of an epi-pen, I get to carry Prilosec, which is preferable.  

Dawg Days of Summer

July 5.  Vacation’s over, and it’s time to return to the real world.

Well, almost.  Jet lag is still kickin’ in a bit so there’s a need to keep moving in the evening because the minute we sit down we tend to fall asleep.

Like about 7:00 in the evening.

And that wouldn’t be such a big deal, except that it leads to waking up even earlier than we normally do.

Like about 11:30 in the evening. 

You see the circle.  Eventually we’re going to be getting up when other people haven’t even gone to bed yet.  At some point, either we or the world is going to be out of sync for an entire day.  That can’t be good.

Add to that the fact that it’s hot.  Not just “warmish” or even “a might uncomfortable.”  It’s HOT. 

As in record-breaking, triple-digit, too-hot-to-wear-many-clothes hot that makes you feel like you need a shower from the second you walk out the door in the morning and keeps you inside close to the air conditioning wishing you’d bought stock in Duke Power in the afternoon.

Too hot to either cook OR light the grill.

There has to be a good reason to go out.  Today it was the need to stay awake, and to do that we decided to engage in that age-old summertime ritual and take the kids for ice cream.

The fuzzy kids, that is.  The others all have drivers’ licenses.  They can get their own ice cream.

We didn’t realize that it’s Thursday night, which means that there’s a “rod run” at the old Dairy Queen, the one that we patronize over by the concrete plant.

Complete with Elvis singing on the sidewalk out front.  

There’s no inside seating.

No seating at all, in fact, unless you bring a lawn chair or stay in your car.

Just as we were leaving the house, EM came along and joined us. After all, everyone likes ice cream.

So we joined the show in the parking lot at the DQ, with the boys getting theirs first (they split a small cone in a cup usually), and after they’d eaten theirs the adults got to enjoy their treats.

One of the advantages of doing it this way is we get to learn exactly how long the dog's tongue is.  This is useful, because they'll want to share ours even though they already had theirs.

While that was happening, the manager came out to visit with us.  At first I thought she was going to tell us that dogs weren’t allowed.

That rarely happens, although it has a couple of times – CVS, Target and Best Buy apparently have rules, but c'mon!  We were in the parking lot!

She actually was just coming out to tell us about their “Dog Days of Summer” special.

It seems if your furry four-legged friend brings you on Tuesdays, they get a free “pup cup” if their human makes a purchase.

And free ice cream is almost as sweet as a snitched melon.  So I suspect we’ll be going back on Tuesdays for a while.

Because it looks like it’s going to be a long, hot summer.