Scientology and Poor Armus

So, I'm a bit out of sorts this morning.  I hate doctor's appointments, and, after last year, I expect every one of them to go bad.  We have at least FIVE doctor's appointments between us next week--gynecologist and skin cancer folks for me (plus a possible mammogram), hubby has a physical, and our boy has a physical plus an appointment with an oral surgeon to look at his screwed up x-rays.  Do I need to tell you my arrhythmia is having a joyous holiday in my chest?  It was worse last night than it's been in a long time.

Plus, I'm hungry.  Really hungry.  And disappointed.  I had really hoped to lose more weight before the doc's visits.  Somehow, saying "Yes, I gained back 75 of the 180 I lost, but I've now lost 25 of what I gained" sounds better than "I've now lost 17 of what I gained."  I know, when we're talking in terms of HUNDREDS of pounds, it's silly for me to obsess over eight.  But I am.

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New book out, shining a light on Scientology again.  I'm torn.  I mean, on the one hand, Scientology is quite obviously nutty, manipulative, scary, and all-around crazy and should be held up to scrutiny.  But you know what?

They all are.  Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Mormonism--they're all batty.  And they all should be held up to the scathing light of day.  Why is the idea of space aliens and "body thetans" any more crazy than the idea of goddesses with umpteen limbs or the water-walking-back-from-the-dead guy, or deities masquerading as talking, flaming shrubbery, or Ezekiel--have you read Ezekiel?  Utterly Patsy Cline.  Like Thorazine time.

I'm not defending Scientology--it sickens me.  But it drives me completely bonkers when devout Christians or faithful Mormons start to "diss" the theology of Scientology.  Um, kids?  Golden plates. Gods of your own planets. Pregnant virgins and talking serpents.  You have your own "buyability" issues.  Don't worry about theirs.

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Speaking of magical ghosts in the sky, it's a good thing I'm not superstitious, because otherwise I'd be feeling pretty seriously put-upon right about now.  See, we get a lot of wind here, but we only seem to get the "hand from the sky, send everything flying" sort of microbursts on Thursdays.

Yes, Thursdays.

That would be recycling day in the 'hood.  The day everyone puts out their bins (or, in our case, the big 64 gallon trash can) full of recyclables to be strewn, hell to breakfast, by the wowser wind gusts.  I know, you're thinking I have "blue Taurus" syndrome--I'm only noticing the wind on Thursdays because it only causes me grief on Thursdays.  But no, that's not it--see, we have TWO trash days a week, and the wind DOESN'T blow down the garbage cans on Mondays.  Only on Thursdays.  Only on recycling day (which is also a garbage day--both go out on Thursdays).  Invariably, Thursday mornings (only mornings) are freakishly gusty.

Probably a government plot, right?  Because we all love a good conspiracy theory.

Anyway, I'm eager for warmer weather, because chasing down recyclables and cans in the cold sucks.  Without shoes, it sucks even more.

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Hubby and I were laughing about a funny cultural thing that came up when we first moved in with my Mom.  She had wanted macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner.  Hubby, being born and bred in Utah, thought she meant this:  

My Mother, being from Pennsylvania, would never have meant that.  She, in fact, meant THIS:

To his credit, hubby was horrified as he prepared what he thought we would want.  And he was relieved when we looked at like it was from another planet.  

THE PLANET UTAH

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Have written some new reviews over on Epinions--if you're into pet food, dog harnesses, chocolate, or digital cameras, have a look!
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Just got some bad news.  Armus, the dog we couldn't bring with us because she was too old to make the trip?  Fell down the stairs.  She's pushing 17 years old, and it looks like she's done for.  Armus, whom I hope hasn't been waiting for us to come home.  She's a good dog, but she's an old one, especially for her size.  The only Labrador Husky (that's a sled-dog breed) I've ever known.  I hope she recovers, but considering her age and health, this is probably her last.  Poor Armus.

Armus

L-R Bodhi, Armus (before her ears stood up) and JoJo

And that's about it.  A little of the joy in my day just poofed.

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