Monday in CinCity. The There's Got To Be A Morning After Edition.
Well, Super Bowl has come and gone. We are a family who rarely watches football, but we do enjoy that last match-up, especially since we have no dog in the fight. We choose loyalties out of the air. Well, I take that back. She-Who-Was-Formerly-Known as CollegeGrrrl/Blondie, but who has now passed her State Board exams and dyed her hair brown and is now officially an RN(!!!!)(NewRNGrrrl??), does watch sports and generally has a sports-related reason for supporting a team was rooting for the NY Giants. HoneyHaired Grrrrl liked the Giants because her dormmate is from New Jersey and thus was rooting for a hometown favorite. I liked the Giants because my TV boyfriend, Jon Stewart, likes them and Hubby changes his mind mid-game for whoknowswhat reasoning. He does like an underdog.
I missed half the game as I worked a "Princess Shift"---3pm-7:30pm---and got home to see the tail end of Madonna. If she can prance around with those heels on a slick looking stage more power to her. Power to the prance.
We in the NeuroDrama unit have been working extra shifts in the Cardiac ICU. They've hired a new surgeon to rev up their heart failure/heart transplant department and find themselves with many more patients than staff right now. It's always geographically challenging to walk into another unit and start in running since this unit is designed and set up much differently, but the principles behind treating cardiovascular and neurovascular are much different also. It's been good for clearing cobwebs out of my brain.
The Republican debates and primary tour have been about the only source of humor for me so far this year. Please don't judge me too harshly. Since my friends's deaths I take my lightness-of-being where it comes. Newt lifts my spirits with his petulance and sanctimonious speechifying. There's no Roman Catholic like a newly converted Roman Catholic. Puts the rest of us to shame I tell you, shame, shame, shame!
Buddha in Sunlight
by Red Hawk
Our old dog lies on the front porch in sunlight.
He moves as the sun moves, follows it
along the porch, rising slowly, never
going further than is necessary
to stay within the warm curve of worship.
He yawns, scratches, sheer minimalist,
conservation of energy. This morning
a rabbit hopped into the yard,
He lifted his head, eyed it for a moment,
then lowered his head,
closed his eyes.
This is what Buddha taught:
take no interest
in the arising of thought.
The sun moves off the porch;
he descends delicately the way
a nude descends from her bath, and
he finds a place in the grass.
The rabbit nibbles away,
Let it be, Buddha said;
it will settle
Please note: Dog Asleep on Porch by John C. Browne(1838-1918)