I discovered over the weekend that Dr. Liver's assistant, who I loved dealing with, is no longer there. I can fully understand why she might want to get another job; Dr. Liver is a fantastic physician, but I suspect he may not be the easiest man to deal with. I'm disappointed that I didn't even get a chance to say "goodbye" to her before she moved on.
All is not despair and gloom, though. I was glancing through the back of one of my professional magazines, looking at the names of those who had recently applied to join the association. To my surprise, my friend Rattie was listed. Rattie, for those of you who don't recall, was the girl I helped to pack to move to North Carolina last June. She and I had been friends through much of vet school, and she was an absolute stalwart pillar of a friend when I was sick with my heart condition nearly six years ago. Rattie promised to get in touch with me once she got settled in North Carolina, but true to Rattie, I've not heard from her yet. Rattie is full of good intentions and uneven follow-through. I now have the address of the clinic she is doing her internship at though, and am in the process of writing her a letter now. It will be good to be back in touch with her.
I also neglected to mention that this weekend was exceptionally good in the "quality time" The Socialist and I spent with each other. We stayed up till four in the morning Saturday night, talking about anything and everything. I spent hours in bed nestled in the crook of his shoulder while he talked to me about a wide spectrum of things. At the end, we did what comes naturally to most consenting adult couples in love. Ordinarily this would not merit mention, but I no longer live in ordinary times. I'd just about kissed my libido good-bye months ago, and my ungainly belly makes the logistics a bit difficult anyway. Neither posed a problem in the wee hours of Sunday morning though. That reaffirmation of the bond between us did both of us a world of good, I think.
Events of this weekend have me trying to remember where I had read the lyrics that a science fiction writer had written for "The Naval Hymn", adding a new verse for those who went to space. I'm pretty sure it was Heinlein, but none of my web searches turned anything like I remember up, although I did discover several verses written for astronauts. While trying to hunt this down I did turn up a poem of Robert Heinlein's which seems somehow right for the moment. I'm including only the first and last verses here, as they are the most appropriate.
Let the sweet fresh breezes heal me
As they rove around the girth
Of our lovely mother planet
Of the cool, green hills of Earth.
We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth;
Let us rest our eyes on the friendly skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.
-- Robert A. Heinlein