In addition to being a Friday, I was finally over the after-effects of a somewhat unpleasant migraine that bothered me off and on from Sunday night through Wednesday.
I've had them in the past, and each time it was an indication that I needed to get my eyes checked. This is no different. I have an appointment in about two weeks - and yes, I'm asking about Lasik. :c)
(I updated the profile pic on "his" Facebook profile a few days ago.
(I received several joshing comments about how long my hair is getting :-p... along with several expressing surprise I wasn't wearing my glasses.
(I replied that I had simply forgotten I didn't have them on - which was the truth - and that I was looking into Lasik.
(One long-time friend replied, "YOU are considering Lasik?!? I don't believe it!!! Any other surprises to share with your public?"
(My reply? "You have no idea." lol)
But I digress. I feel better, albeit tired, after three nights of migraine-induced wooziness.
And I received yet another reminder that I may be further ahead in my transition than I realized. :c)
I had dinner with my family on Sunday evening. It was the first time I'd seen my brother since the events last week here in the Boston area. He was, and is, doing well, although he was completely exhausted, understandably.
My mother had made chicken pot pie, which I absolutely adore. She even made a separate one for me to take home with extra potatoes. What can I say; I guess I'm more Irish than the rest of my clan!
My nephew C was not there; he was at his school, beginning to prepare for finals next week.
But as is usually the case, he was the center of attention. :c)
Here is the first of two posts I've held off on posting due to the events of the past week.
I was going to post about my dinner last Saturday with my friend M - the first time we had gotten together in eight months - first.
But after some thought, I decided to post about last Tuesday night's electrolysis session first. Rest assured, however, that both were equally painful. (Juuussstttt kidding, M! lol)
Before I get to some much, much happier topics, one final follow-up to my last two posts.
My brother was there during the final shoot out in Watertown, and when they finally captured the second coward.
I haven't spoken with him yet; he didn't get home until well after midnight, and was back on duty this morning at 5:30 AM. He has worked over 100 hours since Monday, essentially non-stop, and is still on duty.
From what he told my sister-in-law, that final firefight was savage. I've seen amateur footage on YouTube, and it is terrifying to watch. This piece of garbage was out to kill as many people as possible, right up to the end.
This wasn't some innocent kid swayed by an older brother; he is a stone killer. He put the bomb next to eight-year-old Martin Richard, then fled like a cockroach. He is just as much of a maggot as his older brother. I hope he is treated as such, and that justice is served.
And I hope as his scumbag brother drew his last breath, his final thought was that his baby brother, the one he helped turn into a killer, abandoned him like the gutless coward he is and helped kill him by running over him. It would be nice to think that he is forced to re-enact that scene for eternity in hell.
I cannot say enough about the courage, determination, and professionalism my brother and his fellow officers and law enforcement personnel exhibited under the most intense, relentless pressure imaginable. They are all genuine heroes, and I am proud to be associated in some small way with them. They are an inspiration. Thank you, one and all.
I hope that all of the people affected this week by the tragedies in Boston, West, TX, and in China all find the solace they deserve. You are all in my thoughts.
I am very happy that justice has been served in my community.
I am even happier to say that my brother is OK. He knows the officer who was wounded in the shootout that resulted in the death of Suspect #1 (a/k/a Black Hat). Fortunately, reports indicate that this officer will recover.
The relentless, determined, heroic work of my brother and his fellow officers and law enforcement this week was remarkable.
Barely four days after the terrorist bombing in a city of over one million, the authorities: a) identified the suspects by analyzing thousands of hours of video; b) killed one of them; and c) captured the other. Simply amazing.
I am very, very proud of my brother.
I'll have several much more upbeat posts soon, but I thought I'd end this on a lighter note by quoting Stephen Colbert (an American comedian, for those of you not from here), who I think best summed up this week:
"Clearly these people had no idea who they decided to pick on. For Pete's sake, Boston was founded by the Pilgrims - a people so tough they had to buckle their g**damn hats on!"
"And here's what these terrorists don't get: They attacked the *Boston Marathon*. An event that celebrates people who run for 26 miles on their day off until their nipples are raw - for fun!!!"
I have two light-hearted posts almost ready to go, but in light of today's horrific events at the Boston Marathon, I'm holding off on them.
As some of you may have surmised from my previous posts, I live in the Greater Boston area. I've gone to the Marathon and have stood almost exactly where the first bomb went off today.
My nephew C, whom I write about frequently, was at the Marathon today, although fortunately he was far from where the explosions took place.
My younger brother F works in law enforcement. As you might imagine, he was immediately called in, and has been on the scene since mid-afternoon. He likely will be there all night, and possibly longer.
I'm biased, as I come from a family with several members involved in law enforcement, but what struck me watching the coverage was how the emergency responders instinctively raced TOWARDS danger.
Yes, it's their job, but it's much more than that. A certain type of person has a calling to that type of career - and it IS a calling. You can't teach someone to put your own safety aside and try to help total strangers; it is something you're born with.
I know I couldn't do their job. But I certainly am grateful that they can.
I'm know we will all have the victims of this senseless attack in their thoughts.
But please spare a moment to think of the people like my brother - and my sister, who is an emergency room nurse - who put their lives on the line every day.
If we can take anything positive from a day of horror like that, let it be thanks for their selflessness and courage.
This post is to fulfill a promise I made - *literally* just made - to my dear friend Miss JC. :c)
(I have a number of friends named J. I must point out that your collective - and inexplicable - fixation on the same letter of the alphabet makes my job as blogstress more challenging than it really ought to be. However, since I a benevolent blog goddess, and since I love you all, I shall not hold this against you. Hence... Miss JC!)
Miss JC is an absolute sweetheart. So is her husband P, who wants everyone to think he is a gruff ol' bear, but is really a pussycat underneath. I am proud to say I had his number the instant I met him over ten years ago - the first time my woman's intuition kicked in, in retrospect!
Anyway, Miss JC is easily the biggest music fan I have EVER met. Bar none. That is how we met, in fact, back in the day.
Just a quick post about another funny incident from the other night. Apparently, my inner b**** is not nearly as ferocious as I would like to believe. :c)
Had to post this quick hit about a funny remark my friend S made at work today. :c)
After an early meeting we went downstairs for coffee, as we often do, and caught up on out-of-office matters. S related details of her weekend first (she had a lot of fun, in case you're wondering), and then asked how mine was.
I told her the story I posted about on Monday, and we shared a good laugh. ("That is so 'totally' you, Cass!" she said.)
Then I mentioned the running tallies I kept during the weekend, including:
Number of times I blushed (when I mentioned that my dreams have been particularly vivid lately, causing J to ask what - or who - I was dreaming about): 1 lol
Number of items I kicked, bumped, tripped on, or knocked over: 4
Number of times I spilled coffee: 2 (once Saturday evening, once Sunday morning; I am equally clumsy on both days)
Number of times I was addressed as one of the following by toll booth attendants - a) Ma'am; b) Miss; c) Hon/Miss: 3
Steph laughed at that last item. Then she asked off-handedly what I was wearing when I was driving to and from T & J's house.
"Oh, I was dressed androgynously, I guess," I said.
She looked at me for a moment.
S: "So you were dressed normally, then?"
(Note: I'm still in boy mode at work.)
Me: "Huh?"
S: "Cass... you always look androgynous now."
(long pause)
C: "Oh."
lol
Thus, I once again demonstrate my remarkable inability to grasp what apparently is blatantly obvious to... well, everyone! :c)
***
This also gives me an excuse to post a great tune from what is, hands-down, one of the best albums of the Eighties - Let It Be, by The Replacements:
I was too young to get into clubs when Let It Be came out, a matter not helped by the fact that I looked like I was about 12 years old at the time. (I was routinely carded at R-rated movies until I was 31, if you can believe it.)
However, I was lucky enough to see them twice on the Tim tour, in 1986. Both times they were drunken, shambling, barely coherent affairs... and both were absolutely, transcendently glorious. :c)
Posts
