Every cloud has a ginger lining.

You know how sometimes you have an intense conversation with someone, and then you're not entirely sure how to go on from there without being all awkward? I feel a bit like that with this lj and Friday's post about the driveway and vertigo. It's sort of one of those, "So aaaaanyway," moments, except that with the way lj is structured, it's all one-sided. So. Hi. No more driveway adventures this weekend. Still falling from time to time. Trying to deal with some of the relevant medical personnel today. And stuff.

(I have the gingerbread -- the loaf bread kind, not the pepparkakor, which I already did -- in the oven this morning, and yet our house only smells a little like a brewery! How has this happened? I will tell you, my friends: through the miracle of modern vertigo! Vertiginous episode while measuring ginger. Resulted in ginger all over the counter, the floor, myself, and -- most fabulously -- the inside of the silverware drawer. So now we smell extremely gingery, and the inside of the silverware drawer is clean. Silver linings.)

I'm not sure whether I've done something very wise or very foolish: I made a list of the places I need to go before Christmas. Meep. It is a long list. On the other hand, organization is our friend, right? And if I didn't want to do this stuff, I wouldn't do it. It is all explicitly optional. I don't feel pressured by anyone involved. Nobody else requires two kinds of gingerbread; nobody else requires that I give them some of the gifts I'm trying to find. It's all me. I'm comfortable with that.

Why I go there.

People at my doctor's office I love:

1. My regular doctor, who rocks and is funny and smart and looks like matociquala.
2. The doctor who subbed in for her on maternity leave, who also rocks, and who reads Robin McKinley novels.
3. Brenda, our nurse, who -- wait, maybe you can guess this one! -- rocks.
4. The phlebotomist whose name I never remember, who rocks, and who understands the difference between "afraid of blood" and "prone to fainting."

And now! Today!

5. Nancy in referrals. Who -- sing it with me, kids! -- rocks.

Dealing with medical crap is no fun at all. I'm so very glad that my first line of medical care contains enough rockage for an entire band.