Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Doe a Dear

After I put out all that serotonin to post a blog like yesterday's, I get all warm and fuzzy and just want to talk about FD.

Our Sundays are work days since we don't work on Saturdays, which means that the day as in, day off, doesn't begin until late afternoon. I get home around 3:00, starving, make us some sandwiches, check email, and take a nap, not necessarily in that order. FD is in there somewhere, usually the sandwich part.

We love national holidays because for sure nobody wants to see the doctor on a national holiday. NOBODY is sick when there's a barbeque, root beer, or a better offer. So we'll pack up a lunch on those delicious Mondays off, rack the bikes to the back of the car, wave at the neighbor's kids on our sidewalk, and drive off into the sun to find a state park or a paved-over railroad that the Illinois Bicycle Association has recommended.

These paved trails go on for 5-10 miles through farmlands and small towns. They're the yellow-brick-roads for grown-ups.

No, you're right, that's not enough exercise, but okay. At least we get away, and there's a culture to adapt to with this kind of trip. Mainly, you have to smile at bike riders coming at you from the opposite direction on the other side of the line. Better yet, say hello.


A blue bird-- royal blue, never seen the likes of it before.

Several very nice butterflies

One dead cicada that I bagged for my grandson, E, and sent to California in a plain #10 envelope. E told me last night that the cicada arrived, quite smashed by the postal service, probably from canceling the stamp. Pity.

And a doe. Or two does. Or is that, two doe. Two sightings of one doe. I don't know. What does a person do with two does? Here she is.

The ride was deceptively easy. For example, there were path markers to tell us how far we'd gone, but it seemed the mile markers were off. I would never have believed that the "mile" was really a "mile." Maybe it was 3/4 of a mile. But not a mile. Yet if that were the case, then why I crashed physically, like hardly ever before from a bike trip (it's like child-birth, you just don't remember the pain) when I finally got home that Monday evening is a mystery to me. But I did. Sleep, I mean. Much better than usual.

I always want to tell people with sleep problems, try moving your body a little. Move a few muscles. Quit asking us for drugs.

Are you waiting for the adventure? Kankakee State Park is not an adventure. It's a hilly park along the Kankakee River and Bambi lives there, along with a couple of birds, butterflies, and mostly dead cicadas. The kids who took our picture had never used a camera before, which is why all you get is Bambi.

We did the 20 miles in a couple of hours and left the park for home. FD really wanted ice cream, and lucky for us the liquor store in town had. . . Ice cream! Ben and Jerry's yet! Cherry Garcia, Chocolate Fudge Brownie in cute little one-serving containers with spoons attached to the covers. Only two hundred calories per serving.

My kind of town, Kankakee.

FD had the wheel and took the long way home, passed through Joliet.
Motto: If it's fun, it's in Downtown Joliet.

At some point I break into that Stevie Wonder song, I Believe if I Fall in Love with You it Will be Forever. Remember that song? Talking Book, I think. I can see FD thinking the notes out in his head. He'll play it later at night on the piano and he'll have the song just right, even though he's never heard Stevie sing it and it's not in my range.

A sign says Romeoville, and although I've had patients from Romeoville, I've never been to Romeoville.

Used cars, The Place for Ribs, Laser Wash, Dunkin' Donuts, Speedway, On the Rock Bar & Grill, road kill, Big Old Coon, Route 53, White Fence Farm, La Grou Trucking, Montana Charlie's Flea Market. We're still an hour from home.

I've got patients who work at La Grou, he says. And so do I, probably, I think. It strikes me as strange, however, that we're way, way far away from our offices in the city and people will drive that distance to see a doctor.

But that's what happens when you get attached to people, you'll drive a ways to see them. Or you'll drive that far to get away on a holiday.

Father's Day will be this Sunday. I'll miss my nap.

But lunch is made, and because my bro doesn't live in the city, there's a good chance that Bambi might be there!

Copyright 2007, therapydoc


Emy L. Nosti said...

"One dead cicada that I bagged for my grandson, E, and sent to California in a plain #10 envelope."

Ewww. You're a strange one, TD.

therapydoc said...

I suppose.

rakellyb said...

emy - if you knew E, you'd know that to him a dead cicada is the height of cool. So in reality.... TD is one cool cat. : )

therapydoc said...

Thanks, Rak. You're the best.

Summer said...

Thanks for being part of the Carnival of SAHMs!

Better Things-- Seeing Ghosts