Bow Tie o’ the Day and I got approved and educated in Farmington today. At my doc appointment, I got the okey-dokey to take my torso with me on vacation in a couple of weeks. It’s allowed to fly with me on an airplane. The little piece of my pancreas that’s left in me was so excited about being able to go that it clapped. Really, it did. I heard it and felt it. And I know what my Hanky Panky’s capable of, better than anyone else does. (I’ve gotta change Panky’s name since what’s left of it seems to be working sufficiently. Hmmm.)
I learned a new word while the doc was pushing and poking at my belly with his hands: “crepitus.” Doc said he was checking to see if he could feel or hear any of this crepitus thing. And then I said, “That word sounds captivating. What is it?” I so much wanted him to tell me I have crepitus, so I could tell everybody I have crepitus, so I could have an excuse to say crepitus over and over. Crepitus, crepitus, crepitus. And even after the doc defined “crepitus” and told me it isn’t something anyone wants to have, I still wished I had some of it.
Doc told me the short version. Crepitus is air bubbles under your skin or in subcutaneous tissues. It’s a sign of air leaking from/to somewhere it shouldn’t. (After surgery, it can occur on rare occasions.) What he said next is what made me want it. Apparently, the crepitus bubbles feel like Rice Krispies when you’re feeling around, and they sound like Rice Crispies doing their snap, crackle, pop. Sometimes the sound can be heard with the naked ear– or in my case, the naked hearing aid. No stethoscope necessary. Who in their daring, right mind wouldn’t want to be full of crepitation? Alas, I have no Rice Krispies traveling in my innards. Looking at and listening to a bowl of the cereal can’t be the same as having the things move around under your skin. Dang.
After being educated about this new word, I felt compelled to honor public education. To do it, I drove past Farmington High School on my way home. It is FHS’s inaugural year. Brand spanking new. Bow Tie and I stopped to snap a photo of the place, and I’m sure you can guess the reason. A pop-out, grab-ya color. Yellow-orange. Now that’s a building that says HERE I AM! COME IN AND LEARN!
I also drove past Canyon Creek Elementary, which is about a mile from FHS. Its colors are not pop-y in the least. The earthy colors are fine, but match-y. I almost didn’t include this second photo on the post because it didn’t look very interesting. But then I saw IT. And I knew you had to see IT too: my hair in the wind. I’m wearing Trump hair!
It’s your fault though. It’s because of your votes that I’m growing out my head hairs, and clearly my head hairs are now in their Trump phase of growth.
HERE’S A P.S. FROM THIS MORNING’S POST: The “allergy bee” stung me in my hand. My entire hand and forearm swelled up like Popeye’s. To ease the throbbing pain of the swelling, I had to keep my fingers pointed to the ceiling. The incident occurred on a Saturday, and I was scheduled to give a talk in Sacrament Meeting the next day. I couldn’t stand to let my arm hang down for even the few minutes of my talk. So there I stood pontificating at the podium, forearm pointed up. It appeared as if I was sustaining myself for ten minutes. Ward members didn’t act like anything weird was going on. I’m sure they thought I was just going through another one of my eccentricities.
