On strike
Husband has informed me that I'm not allowed to go to ER for the next week or so. The reason is that the nurses at our "local" are on strike.

Great, for most people their "local" is a nice place to get a drink after work. For me, my "local" is a nice place to get an ER after zarfing for 12 hours.

OK, Husband. I promise to do my best to avoid ER until the nurses come marching home.

In other news I think I've been fired by my acupuncturist. After 2 or 3 really good sessions, a lot more sessions that didn't seem to do anything/much, he's decided that he really can't do anything for me. Boo. He tried something new yesterday and I'm to call him on Monday to report how it worked. Considering that I woke up at 2 am in severe pain and it took 2 vicodin to get me through the next 9 hours, I'd have to say that it didn't. But all is not lost, he shares office space with a massage therapist who is apparently amazing and will refer me to him. Keep your fingers crossed.

Thanks to Mama D for her advice on the Eddie Bauer catalog. I'll check it out. I broke down and dashed into Mervyn's the other day for a new pair of jeans, since I got fed up with having to cinch my old jeans so tight. I bought a size 8 which is still a bit large, but I think they might shrink. Good lord, an 8! I haven't been in single digit clothing since I was in high school -- if then. I looked in the mirror this morning and realize that I've misplaced my butt. If anyone finds it, please put it in the mail. Thanks.