* The Bastard was a monumental bastard today. It was...bad. REALLY bad. I have, again, been asked to trust The Process. I'm not sure I do, but seeing as I don't have a ton of options, I am trusting The Process by default.
* Today I had the opportunity to see, taste, and sell a really amazing daily special. It made for a beautiful plate, was gluten-free (yes, The Ritz prides itself on offering options to hungry gluten-free people, but the chef specifically brought that to my attention also, which was sweet of him), and impressed the heck out of the customers. That's fun, and reminds me why I enjoy working in the industry that I work in (not that I ever blamed the industry for The Bastard, but bastards have a way of coloring all that they touch and it was nice to be reminded that I generally love what I do on a day like today).
* Someone in another department at The Ritz who I work closely with on occasion is of the male persuasion and is also the exact height Little Child's doctors predict that he will be after he finishes growing. Today we had the opportunity to spend some quantity time together working a function that proved quite stressful, and he ended up struggling to perform his job duties because he was under-trained for the position. That position was one that I have worked in other jobs, and I therefore possessed the expertise needed to be of assistance to him, to the point that he said if I ever needed anything to let him know. I said well, as a matter of fact I would very much like to pick your brain about something but it involves asking you some personal questions, and he said go ahead. So I asked him how tall he was, and he told me, and I asked if I could ask him something even more personal and he said sure and volunteered that if I had a midget fetish he'd be Down With That. I said yeah, no, thanks, but if you could go back in time and have growth hormone shots and be taller would you do it? He said no, actually, he would not, because then he wouldn't be who he is today. I asked him if that was the "making lemonade out of lemons" answer or the truth, and he said no really, it was true. I then showed him a picture of Little Child on my phone and told him about the ongoing growth hormone debate I have with The XY, and what Little Child said when I asked him about it (namely that he does not want the shots, and if he's going to be super-short then he will be one of the guys who rides racehorses and buy and sell us all), and asked him what he thought about The XY's assertion that we ought to force Little Child to take the shots for his own good. My co-worker said that if there was anything he could change, it would be that he would want his mom to have been more willing to talk to him about issues he had with peers in school, but that his dad had died when he was really young and his mom had taken the standpoint of "you are perfect as you are, so shush." He said that in his opinion it was normal to want to blame something beyond your control for your troubles as an adolescent and really in general, but that looking back he didn't think any problems he'd had in his life were due to his height and he was happy with who he was, height and all. So there's that.
* After work I went and had a physical, and in general my doctor pronounced me to be healthy. WHOO TITS! Except oh, speaking of which, due to The Narcissist having had breast cancer (allegedly? She always CLAIMED to have had breast cancer but then there were tumors in her lungs and brain and blah blah whatever--I told my doctor what I knew of the situation, warned her that my knowledge of it was via third party and sketchy at best given The Narcissist's mental illness, and asked her to give me her best guess as to what that meant in terms of my own medical history and care) I get to have a mammogram. I was kind of expecting that, though, and there was nothing about the breast exam my doctor did that alarmed her, so it's just a precaution. Also Paul was pronounced to be an official bunion, but that is also old news since Dr. Google called it weeks ago. As for my back, my doctor agreed with the diagnosis from Urgent Care; I asked her for her advice on what to do for pain management given that I am not supposed to take NSAIDs and am almost out of the pain pills I got at Urgent Care but not quite at the point of no longer needing something for pain in order to be able to sleep at night. She gave me my choice between an extended course of steroids and a synthetic opioid with the option of reverting to the extended course of steroids if I run out of the synthetic opioid and am still in pain, and I said I'd prefer to go with the synthetic opioid since steroids suppress the immune system and I pick up snotty napkins for a living. She was fine with that. Also, since a number of people have opined that reactions to beestings are cumulative and can worsen to the point of anaphylaxis AT ANY TIME I showed her the pictures I took of the reaction I get to beestings and asked her whether I ought to be concerned and/or have an Epi-Pen handy. She said that it certainly looked painful, but that there was no point in sending me to an allergist because an actual beesting was the best test of how allergic you are to such things, and if I hadn't had anaphylaxis from a beesting yet I wasn't at any greater risk than anyone else. BUT, she said, such things are pretty unpredictable and the process is not fully understood, and you could get stung one day and be fine and get stung the next and drop dead, and with that in mind she actually did think it was a good idea for me to have an Epi-Pen on-hand in case I or anyone else gets stung and has a bad reaction given that I have beehives in my backyard. I think that is an overly-cautious, ass-covering answer, but will see what my insurance company will chip in as far as covering the cost of an Epi-Pen and if it's affordable I'll go ahead and fill the prescription, because better safe than sorry.