And here we are again

I have my computer back now. It had a nasty Trojan (is that supposed to be capitalized in this context?) that was erasing my registry or something. The nice fella at the repair shop fixed it, maybe. He said it was a particularly nasty one. The first time I started up the computer it did well, but since has been very slow to start. I may need to call the guy on Monday. Nevertheless it is good to have my own computer back.

I had the esophagogastroduodenoscopy on Wednesday. Did I tell you about that? I know I mentioned that I was scheduled for the procedure. It's an upper G.I. endoscopy. The doc snaked a tube with a camera on the end down my throat, into my stomach, and on to the first section of my intestine (the duodenum). It all looks good, he said. He took a few "clippings" from my stomach for biopsy or something because he said it was ever so slightly darker pink than perhaps it should be. I suppose I'll hear something from my family doctor once the results come back. I'm not worried.

My body heard that we are anemic. So what does the uterus do? She decides to bleed profusely for a couple of days. Not cool, uterus. It's not even time for that yet. You're supposed to wait another week or two, according to our most recent schedule.

Have been pretty depressed this week. Why? I dunno. Why does depression happen? I think that's the wrong question to ask, though I can say that hormones probably contribute to this episode. I don't want to go out anywhere or do anything. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist for this coming Monday but I called to cancel it Friday. I intend to reschedule, but the office was closed when I called so I have to call back to reschedule. There was a menu option to cancel appointments, though, on the answering program. I appreciate that.

I'm supposed to go to Florida for Thanksgiving. Have we discussed this? We're to bury my dad's ashes on the day after Thanksgiving. Light is coming home to South Carolina for this holiday, and Twitch got Tuesday through Friday off work so he'll be here from Charleston. All of this means that if I go to Florida, I'll go alone. Anyone who's read this blog for any length of time knows that I'm all about solo road trips! This time, though, I'm just not feeling it. A practical reason: my truck needs a work-over from the mechanic. That "check engine" light that started blaring on my way up through Vermont is still shining as soon as the truck warms up. We haven't had room in the budget to get it checked out. And otherwise, I kinda don't really want to see my Florida family. Especially not all together at one time. I usually do OK one on one with each of them, mostly, for brief periods. I'm supposed to spend a couple of days with my Mama in the Orlando area before T'giving, then go up to Gainesville for the holiday. Friday we'll go from Gainesville to the little town where my dad's family has cemetary plots. His parents, grandparents, and uncles are all buried there and it's where he wanted to be placed. Then either Friday or Saturday (depending on how long this thing lasts Friday) I'll drive back home. If I go.

I will get to see Light if I go to Florida because she doesn't fly back to Pennsylvania until the Monday after Thanksgiving. I'll miss Twitch, but I've seen him fairly recently anyway. He's only about four hours away, which makes for a nice drive especially if Superman and I go together without other passengers.

And now that I've discussed the Florida trip, I'm more willing to go. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm not making any decisions about it now because the hormones and depression influence me too much. I'll think about it in another week or two. Of course that gets really close to travel time, but I've told the family that I'm going, and if I end up going, they'll not know I almost didn't. You know what I mean?

My last post was way too long, so before this one gets any longer I'm going to end it.

Per request

A brief explanation about how I came to have sex in a cemetery

A post full of linky love

It was 1981, if that makes any difference. I was 19 years old and in a rather strange relationship with a young man named Joe Choo. Of Chinese extraction and from Malaysia, Joe had come to Macon, GA to attend Mercer University. I was a freshman in my second term at Mercer that spring, and had been dating Joe, mostly living with him and his brother Edwin for most of the winter and spring until I wised up and left his sorry ass. The story is much more complicated than that, of course, but has nothing to do with having sex in the cemetery. 

Macon, GA is a very large town rich in history.  When General Sherman marched to the sea from Atlanta, he bypassed Macon. We are all thankful for that, I suppose. Macon has some gorgeous antebellum architecture that otherwise would have been destroyed. 

Macon is also rich in dead people. Old cities tend to do that. The largest and oldest cemetery in town (as far as I know) is Rose Hill Cemetery. It is built (are cemeteries "built"?) on the hillside overlooking the Ocmulgee River that runs through Macon. It's very beautiful and much like a park.

Irrelevant fact: One of the most famous graves there is that of Duane Allman of the Allman Brothers Band. 

Back in the early 1980s when I lived in Macon, this cemetery was the prettiest park-like place to visit. Lots of the students from Mercer would come to the cemetery for picnics, Frisbee-golf, or other instances of fooling around. It is private property and should be respected as reverently as is due a cemetery. But we didn't. We were jerks. 

A railroad track runs between the river and the cemetery. Somewhere at the bottom of the cemetery right by the tracks is an area that looks vaguely like this (but not so neat). This one happens to be the Allman grave site. But pay attention to that retaining wall. Joe and I found a secluded area with a wall similar to this one. I think we had a picnic there. But one thing led to another and as young lovers will we ended up playing hide the sausage. He had me sitting on the wall, which was not the most comfortable perch. Except for the engineer in the train that passed by, no one saw us. (oops) So I guess I was caught having sex in the weirdest place I ever had sex. The experience is memorable, but not for quality of the sex. For good quality sex I'd have to tell a different story, probably one that didn't include Joe Choo.