*Eight little pills*

Every morning I take a handful of pills to kick start my body into fully functioning mode.

1. little white triangle to clean my kidneys.
2. little yellow oval to relax my herniated disc.
3. yellow/white cap to clear my plumbing (2 if I've had sex the night before... 3 if it was really wild... just kidding)
4. little pink blunt'n to clear my head.
5. wee baby aspirin to thrill my heart.
6. big chalky bastard to lube the joints.
7. big honkin' brown vitamin because, you know, it does a body good.
8. cap of white to keep from drowning in self-pity.

Then I eat breakfast and drink mass amounts of something hot and black and try to forget the diabetes that has already taken ten years from me before I've stepped foot out the door.

*Better living through pharmaceuticals*

I am sometimes asked how I believe in a benevolent God when my world seems an endless stream of bad events. I say "Algebra is hard. Life is what you make it."

So long as I'm not digging ditches for a living, I think I'll keep saying that ... but then, the world needs ditch diggers, too.


As the evening comes to a close, I finish out my regiment with a tall glass of water

9. half a mustard triangle to clear my blood.
10. pink cap to take the pain of the day away.

I forget to look in the mirror as I apply the potion to my face. Invariably it lands on my lips and then my tongue and I go to bed wondering if my husband kisses me right then, at that very instant, would he find me bitter?