After surviving a rough ovulation day, I managed to scrape myself up this morning, still groggy from the witches potion my mother and I concocted to alleviate cramping. I went to work...the drag of my lifetime and decided that I possibly have a bladder infection that is wreaking havoc on not only my tummy but kidney's as well.
As you may already know, I abhor antibiotics. I'm a probiotics kind of gal! I usually get every single side affect known to man from these nasty little pills. I was waffling about calling the doc but then decided that getting better far outweighed the burning sensation going on in my downtown region. No pool swimming or sex seemed outrageous to me, especially during these fertile summer months. So. I made the call and scheduled a late afternoon medical suare'. I'm sure the doc would love to see me since I've lost 20 pounds and have all my annoying aliments under control with the help of a wise holistic nutritionist who works at Whole Foods.
When I escaped my work dungeon around 3pm this afternoon, I jumped into the VW and headed north. I, of course tuned in to WFUV 90.7 on the dial, and settled in for a nice drive. Since there was no significant traffic build up so far, I put the car on cruise control and booked down the highway, taking notice of little as I enjoyed the shear speed of my vehicle as it tightly hugged the road. I often want to ditch my VW Passat, disappointed in its overall performance. It never met my crunchy VW expectations like my fabulous 1991 college Jetta that I kept too long. By the time it was about to die, it looked like a sad, rusty hunk of junk, beaten down from years of abuse. But today, the chemistry was right in my car when I heard The Rolling Stone's "Dead Flowers" on radio. I turned off the cruise control and took command of the wheel, doing my best impression of old Mick himself. I must admit my singing skills have suffered over the years but I can still belt out a rock song in the safe confines of my mid-size black sedan.
Vic turned me on to that song when we were in college and I think he said our friend Tony enlightened him on one of the finer songs in their catalog. I thought it was on Exile on Main Street but I was quickly corrected by the hubby this evening, who informed it was on Sticky Fingers (one of my favorite album covers). It's such a cynical song, daring the listener to bring dead flowers to a wedding so he could put roses on your grave. It has this crazy, twangy honky-tonk sound that sits in juxtaposition to the lyrics. I'm not sure why I enjoy this song so much but man...I was working it today. God I love The Stones! I may have felt like crap physically but my mind was all about being happy and moving to the beat of Keith Richards tight licks.
When I reached my exit, I realized the entire trip from start to finish was a blur...not good. I wasn't paying attention to driving today, I was in a moment that didn't last long enough. They never seem to these days. How disappointing! I met with my hippie doc and after she complimented my silver jewels and buffalo sandals, she gave me a tentative diagnosis and wrote out the dreaded prescription. I hate taking drugs that have no affect on you except killing infections and all the good bacteria in your body.
Unfortunately, the ride home wasn't so eventful. In fact, it was boring as hell. It tried to create that moment again with my trusty IPOD, but it was too planned out. There was nothing spontaneous about listening to my favorite America song, "You Can Do Magic," and getting my groove on. I was dreaming about driving down the lane but I couldn't recapture the moment. I suppose I'll try again tomorrow...maybe I'll get it right and maybe I won't but I'll always have those few precious minutes of driving heaven to get me through the ultimate traffic jam that New York has become.
As you may already know, I abhor antibiotics. I'm a probiotics kind of gal! I usually get every single side affect known to man from these nasty little pills. I was waffling about calling the doc but then decided that getting better far outweighed the burning sensation going on in my downtown region. No pool swimming or sex seemed outrageous to me, especially during these fertile summer months. So. I made the call and scheduled a late afternoon medical suare'. I'm sure the doc would love to see me since I've lost 20 pounds and have all my annoying aliments under control with the help of a wise holistic nutritionist who works at Whole Foods.
When I escaped my work dungeon around 3pm this afternoon, I jumped into the VW and headed north. I, of course tuned in to WFUV 90.7 on the dial, and settled in for a nice drive. Since there was no significant traffic build up so far, I put the car on cruise control and booked down the highway, taking notice of little as I enjoyed the shear speed of my vehicle as it tightly hugged the road. I often want to ditch my VW Passat, disappointed in its overall performance. It never met my crunchy VW expectations like my fabulous 1991 college Jetta that I kept too long. By the time it was about to die, it looked like a sad, rusty hunk of junk, beaten down from years of abuse. But today, the chemistry was right in my car when I heard The Rolling Stone's "Dead Flowers" on radio. I turned off the cruise control and took command of the wheel, doing my best impression of old Mick himself. I must admit my singing skills have suffered over the years but I can still belt out a rock song in the safe confines of my mid-size black sedan.
Vic turned me on to that song when we were in college and I think he said our friend Tony enlightened him on one of the finer songs in their catalog. I thought it was on Exile on Main Street but I was quickly corrected by the hubby this evening, who informed it was on Sticky Fingers (one of my favorite album covers). It's such a cynical song, daring the listener to bring dead flowers to a wedding so he could put roses on your grave. It has this crazy, twangy honky-tonk sound that sits in juxtaposition to the lyrics. I'm not sure why I enjoy this song so much but man...I was working it today. God I love The Stones! I may have felt like crap physically but my mind was all about being happy and moving to the beat of Keith Richards tight licks.
When I reached my exit, I realized the entire trip from start to finish was a blur...not good. I wasn't paying attention to driving today, I was in a moment that didn't last long enough. They never seem to these days. How disappointing! I met with my hippie doc and after she complimented my silver jewels and buffalo sandals, she gave me a tentative diagnosis and wrote out the dreaded prescription. I hate taking drugs that have no affect on you except killing infections and all the good bacteria in your body.
Unfortunately, the ride home wasn't so eventful. In fact, it was boring as hell. It tried to create that moment again with my trusty IPOD, but it was too planned out. There was nothing spontaneous about listening to my favorite America song, "You Can Do Magic," and getting my groove on. I was dreaming about driving down the lane but I couldn't recapture the moment. I suppose I'll try again tomorrow...maybe I'll get it right and maybe I won't but I'll always have those few precious minutes of driving heaven to get me through the ultimate traffic jam that New York has become.
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