I am not traveling, and therefore my blog suffers. I don’t usually write unless I’m on the road and something unbelievably exciting is going on.
I only have one trip to DC scheduled before the end of the year. Not traveling is a blessing and a curse. I’ve been begging not to travel and now that it is finally here I miss it, kind of how you miss a wart or a chip in your teeth. Now it means I have to get to know my new city, Boston, and all the new people in it.
At least it is pretty here with the autumn leaves cover the sidewalks like blankets. The leaves look like art, with the rust reds, the golden yellows and every shade of brown displayed. Even to my uncreative mind it is inspirational.
I went to an acupuncturist here locally yesterday. He is a slight Chinese man, not as tall as me, and with a heavy Chinese accent. Before sticking me full of needles, he checked my pulse and got a slightly confused look.
“You have weak pulse!” he said, “I give you special tea.” And then he added, “It tastes very bad!”
I’m not sure what all that pulse stuff means, but I’m pretty sure it means I am dying. He acupunctured me, and then came back with the tea.
“You come immediately on Monday! You come in 2 times a week until pulse better!”
Clearly he doesn’t understand that I am responsible for 6 hours straight of conference calls, um, pretty much every day, so Monday didn’t work. I go back on Tuesday.
“Special tea” costs $30 and when brewed smells like bong water and has an after taste of rancid Cream of Wheat. Very odd.
But hopefully I’ll be better soon, cured of whatever it is I have. I better be close to death having to drink all awful tea.