My Personal Superheroes and Fairy Godsisters

The Mega Awesome Doctor Schoenbaum

I’m not a sparkly, stripling of a lass anymore, don’cha know. I’ve seen a few zillion sunrises in my time.

What? I’ve shocked you to your very core? You were blissfully unaware?

It’s true, it’s true but you’d never know it given my firmly entrenched. persistent belief in my, purely mythical, Mister Spock-ness.

He was my solid fav on Star Trek, with his logic, reason and rejection of messy emotions. I wanted to BE Spock. So strong and sturdy, so much on the rational, even keel.

No, no, don’t be throwing All Our Yesterdays , Amok Time and The Naked Time to me! These are anomalous red herrings! Oh yes they are.

In any case, this has been one hell of a week. My sad lack of Spock-ness has bit me in the ass.

Pourquoi?

1) I’ve been putting in a lot of extra hours at work, doing new, fun but very challenging stuff. I’ve felt like I was tap dancing on a cliff edge -- always so close to certain fuck up.

2) My trike broke -- I NEED that trike! A big piece needed to be welded. ‘the hell?! So I’ve been doing long, fast walks, even tried running. What can I show for this? Shin splints!

3) Some nasty-ass infection invaded my lady parts and that’s all I’ll say about that. OK and this: EWWWW and OUCH!

and then, then

4) the one year anniversary of mia madre’s expiration came. I didn’t think this date would phase me? Warum? Aside from my dimwitted belief that I’m all Spock and shit, I thought ‘Mother and I weren’t close.’

True and not true. We were spectacularly different but quite alike. She didn’t understand me at all yet, at times, yes she undeniably did. Our style choices were light years apart...except where they firmly overlapped.

So yeah, I’ve been full of memories and a little down and bummed this week.

This is where my personal Superheroes and Fairy Godsisters stepped in to save the day.

Paula, my boss, pal and total Fairy Godsister

I usually trike to work. Monday, I walked in, swearing up a storm about my broken steed and asked her if she knew of any good welders (she knows everyone). Her reply? ‘Let’s have Larry look at it.’ Larry’s her husband. I think this makes him my Fairy Godfather.

The weld is done and I can pick up my gorgeous orange stallion this morning!

Wendy, Bartender of the Gods

I walked in to the Frog and Peach and said ‘Today is the one year anniversary of my mother’s exit from this good life -- can you make me something special and unique to the occasion’ (or words to that effect).

And she did -- it was something with pear vodka and Saint Germaine (whoa -- dead saint in my drink -- fabulous!) with a champagne floater (‘the hell is this floater stuff? beach toys? drowned beings as in ‘we’ve got a floater?’)

It was magnificent!

My PCP (primary care physician), GP (general practitioner), whatever they’re called now, Doctor Amy Schoenbaum.

I walked in to my last minute appointment, toting what I was certain was a terminal case of Hoo Haa Jungle Rot and feeling all squeamish and embarrassed about it -- as though I’d done something spazoid to bring this on. (Spock would never have felt like this. It’s illogical!) What did I have? Yeast infection.

One of the things I love about Doc Schoenbaum is that she gets me. When I shouted ‘the fuck?! I haven’t had one of those since the Carter administration!,' she laughed. And prescribed some Magic Rapid Acting Wonder Cure cream.

That and she walked in to the exam room in a witch costume! You know, it being Halloween and all.

I have some most def, totes  rockin' superheroes in my life!