There. That's Done.

And I am home in one piece with half a dozen color (color!) snapshots of my squeaky clean innards. I sort of wish I'd been given one of the amnesia drugs for drinking that vile, too sweet "prep" medicine also. Yesterday afternoon wasn't so bad, 5 AM this morning we will not speak of. Suffice to say I held my nose to get part of it down. I considered breaking down into tears and chickening out but then I realized that I was through the bad part and would only have to start at the beginning again if I did. I was able to order a snack for afterward--ice water, not-bad coffee, and 2 cello-wrapped, vending-machine-grade, chocolate chip cookies. People, there's not one person in hospital food service who could dedicate a couple hours to making actual homemade cookies? Please. Maybe when I'm retired I'll make that my mission: to have decent post-procedure cookies for patients. It isn't hard at all to make big batches of tasty cookies, what is the matter with them? Now I'm headed for a short nap, a bacon cheeseburger lunch, and an afternoon of packing for our escape tomorrow. Woohoo!

September 29--Joseph Mallord William Turner, Venice, from the Porch of Madonna della Salute. It's the light that makes it. You stand here and soon you forget all the curd that's in the canals, all the things people have thrown in them over the years. All you're aware of is the light. Even on cloudy days there's a luminous quality to the city. Every spark of light glitters on the waters, magnifies itself, teeters right on the edge of refracting into a rainbow. Judith was fully aware of the dangers of the light in Venice. She was immune to the dark-lashed eyes of Italian men but the light today threatened to melt her resolve like ice in spring sunshine.

I think it might be nap time. Durwood's throwing in a load of wash and then he'll get some burgers for lunch at Burger King (he's got a coupon).
--Barbara