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But I'm too worn out to get drunk, much less look up the damn 800 number, so use your imagination when you get there.
On the whole, a decent day and a nice afternoon/evening. My BP is down a little from its yon dizzying heights of a couple weeks back, but still higher than Doc or I would like (especially on the bottom), so we decided to fiddle with controllables for a month or so, run a full blood screen next week to see if it contains any other clues, and then go back in January for a retest before we start playing with meds for that.
From there, we headed east for a meetup with Emily and Eleanor's brother in Rochester, a tradition begun a year ago of meeting at a near-campus Indian restaurant with a killer buffet. Eleanor and I were already pretty punchy before we got there, though, and you can blame it on the music.
Our usual station of choice here at home, Jazz.fm out of Toronto, carries a bit past Batavia, but as we neared the outskirts of Rachacha, it began to fade and I switched over to an old friend: Jazz 90.1 (or, as they're known on the Web because those pesky periods in the frequency don't work, jazz901.org). They'd been our go-to source for such music back when we lived there, and Eleanor listened to them even before we met. Within moments, we'd heard a piece by Wynton and Branford Marsalis's father Ellis; Natalie Cole's cover of her dad's "Christmas Song" which somehow, all these years, I can't remember ever hearing; and, given the rush hour, lots of traffic reports for the immediate area. The DJ then announced the night's remaining schedule in those brief moments before 6 p.m.: Rob Linton's gig would continue in a similar vein until 1830, but the station would then break format for the monthly Greece Central School District board meeting.
Ah, the obligations of a station licensee. 90.1 is not part of the local NPR/PBS mafia, nor a college station, but is licensed to that particular suburban Rochester school district; and as such, it occasionally needs to fulfill its requirements to Da Management and provide actual public affairs programming. You know, like all radio and TV stations in this country used to be required to do before the FCC got spayed and/or neutered about 25 years ago.
We were almost to the restaurant by that point, but I couldn't resist the riff. Don't worry, I told Eleanor; they broadcast the meeting, but the whole thing is scat-sung.
I have a modest example here:
Hey baba rebop we-will all come to order hey
And read and approve the last month's agenda-yay!
A de-da-daddyo tenures are granted
And-a seventeen new buses approved to be rented
Someone move to adjourn to a week from Wednesday,
Just skeep-beep de bop-bop beep bop bo-dope skeetle-at-de-op-de-day.....
Shit. Ella Fitzgerald just hit a D above top C and broke the recorder.
----
Some sweet and meaningful moments followed all of that, but I'll leave it to Eleanor to sing those particular notes.
On the whole, a decent day and a nice afternoon/evening. My BP is down a little from its yon dizzying heights of a couple weeks back, but still higher than Doc or I would like (especially on the bottom), so we decided to fiddle with controllables for a month or so, run a full blood screen next week to see if it contains any other clues, and then go back in January for a retest before we start playing with meds for that.
From there, we headed east for a meetup with Emily and Eleanor's brother in Rochester, a tradition begun a year ago of meeting at a near-campus Indian restaurant with a killer buffet. Eleanor and I were already pretty punchy before we got there, though, and you can blame it on the music.
Our usual station of choice here at home, Jazz.fm out of Toronto, carries a bit past Batavia, but as we neared the outskirts of Rachacha, it began to fade and I switched over to an old friend: Jazz 90.1 (or, as they're known on the Web because those pesky periods in the frequency don't work, jazz901.org). They'd been our go-to source for such music back when we lived there, and Eleanor listened to them even before we met. Within moments, we'd heard a piece by Wynton and Branford Marsalis's father Ellis; Natalie Cole's cover of her dad's "Christmas Song" which somehow, all these years, I can't remember ever hearing; and, given the rush hour, lots of traffic reports for the immediate area. The DJ then announced the night's remaining schedule in those brief moments before 6 p.m.: Rob Linton's gig would continue in a similar vein until 1830, but the station would then break format for the monthly Greece Central School District board meeting.
Ah, the obligations of a station licensee. 90.1 is not part of the local NPR/PBS mafia, nor a college station, but is licensed to that particular suburban Rochester school district; and as such, it occasionally needs to fulfill its requirements to Da Management and provide actual public affairs programming. You know, like all radio and TV stations in this country used to be required to do before the FCC got spayed and/or neutered about 25 years ago.
We were almost to the restaurant by that point, but I couldn't resist the riff. Don't worry, I told Eleanor; they broadcast the meeting, but the whole thing is scat-sung.
I have a modest example here:
Hey baba rebop we-will all come to order hey
And read and approve the last month's agenda-yay!
A de-da-daddyo tenures are granted
And-a seventeen new buses approved to be rented
Someone move to adjourn to a week from Wednesday,
Just skeep-beep de bop-bop beep bop bo-dope skeetle-at-de-op-de-day.....
Shit. Ella Fitzgerald just hit a D above top C and broke the recorder.
----
Some sweet and meaningful moments followed all of that, but I'll leave it to Eleanor to sing those particular notes.