Bear with me. I am almost finished with my series on shingles, having nearly recovered. Moving anxiety is hampering a complete and total recovery, with occasional itching and back stabbing pain, and constant fatigue. At 4 in the morning I had a nightmare wherein a snake slithered up and bit my left index finger as I was typing my memoirs. A sign from God to cease and desist? In any case, in all of my spare time I came up with some riddles, of the third grade variety, to share with you:
Q: What does a Starbucks barista serve an itchy customer?
A: A shingle shot of espresso.
Q: What does auto-immune suppressed Santa Claus sing to his elves?
A: Shingle Bells!
Q: What do an unemployed lawyer and the Expat Princess have in common?
A: They can both hang out a shingle!
Ha, ha, ha ….
In my many conversations with folks on the subject of shingles I gleaned a few other facts that you should know about: 1) you can get shingles TWICE (Dr. Skin says that only happens 4% of the time but anecdotal evidence says contrary) 2) in addition to getting shingles in your eye, you can get them in your mouth and rectum. If this does not immediately propel you to the doctor, I do not know what will; no empathy here for those who say they dont’ need it. I won’t send you flowers. 3) Sheeba, she of the shingled face, reported to me that 10% of people over seventy (?) who get shingles kill themselves; I have no way to verify this information but believe it.
My seasonal single parenting is coming to an end. Mr. Understanding is on US soil, visiting his brother and wife in San Francisco, before we arrive tomorrow to celebrate his old age. Can you guess what Mr. U is getting for his birthday? We are all dying to see him! FedEx arrives today to haul off 6 suitcases (don’t ask) and Poppy is pickin’ a “Pepper” (a.k.a. Thing 1) up from camp, reminding me that love is a verb. I do not know how I got such a nice dad but I did, even if his new nickname is Grumpa. I’ll post next from the City by the Bay, transitory home of my heart.