“The perfect gift is the one you didn’t know existed, but once you open it you realize it’s what you’ve always wanted.”

–Sandra Tayler

We received the perfect gift yesterday.

We will shortly be inaugurating a President with three “funny-sounding” names (depending on where you’re from, and what you find funny.) Barack Hussein Obama. So what?

Well… None of those three names have ever been monikers applied to a sitting president. Trivia question: When was the last time a U.S. President brought not one, not two, but THREE brand new names to the office?

In 2001 George W. Bush brought ZERO new names to the office (George is an old one, and Walker and Bush were both done by W’s dad.)

In 1993 William Jefferson Clinton brought one new name to the office.

In 1989 George H. W. Bush brought two new names to the office – Walker and Bush.

In 1981 Ronald Wilson Reagan brought two – Wilson is the repeat.

In 1977 James Earl Carter brought two – James is the repeat.

In 1974 Gerald Rudolph Ford brought three new names. Woo-hoo! But we never got to vote for him. I declare that this doesn’t count.

In 1969 Richard Milhaus Nixon brought three new names… okay, we elected him. Yes, yes we did. So it’s been FORTY YEARS*.

A statistical analysis of name re-use frequency among U.S. Presidents might be interesting. What would be REALLY interesting would be if it predicted anything useful. Or anything more useful than “statisticians can predict anything once it has happened.”

(*Note: I could be wrong about “Richard” never showing up as a Presidential middle name. My cursory search did not reveal it. I know those guys by first and last names only, just like everybody else who studied U.S. Presidents in grade-school.)

A very thoughtful Schlocker sent a gift to me, delivered through wine.woot.com: cheese!

There was a strong, soft, crumbly bleu, a deliciously nutty Gouda, and a chevre (goat cheese) called “purple haze” that I just loved.

Better still, there was a recipe for making horse-durfees* out of the chevre. Mix it with chopped pistachios, olive oil, and ground black pepper, then spread it on prosciutto and wrap it around steamed asparagus. I followed the instructions (had to substitute a deli salami for the prosciutto, sadly) and it was delicious! Sandra liked it too, and we’ve shared some of those yummy appetizers** with our greek-food-loving neighbors.

So… you know who you are. Thank you!

* I hate looking up the spelling of that stupid French word every time I use it. If you’re well-read enough to correct my spelling, then you know what I meant. If you don’t know what I meant by “horse-durfees” then just assume horrible things about what French people will eat before a meal, and you’ll be on the right page.

** I suppose I could keep using the English word, but that drops these delicious rolls of asparagus, goat-cheese, and pistachios in the same category as TGIF’s mozzerella stix.

If you recall my recent post about Morton’s Neuroma, you’ll be happy to hear that the pain from the treatment has subsided, and the pain from the neuroma also seems lessened.

In short, the borderline-excruciating treatment was actually worth it. I’m walking without favoring the foot now. It still pinches a bit when I run or stand tippy-toe, but it feels like the cortizone is doing its job.

This almost certainly means I’m due for another excruciating, limp-inducing shot in January, and perhaps again in February. Repeated cortizone treatments seem to be indicated if the first one is effective.

If you recall my slightly more recent post about the lipoma in my arm, you’ll be happy to hear that the stitches are driving me crazy, and I’m half-ready to pull them out myself. There’s no way I’m waiting until a week from Monday to have them removed. They keep rubbing on my clothing and my bedsheets, irritating me and irritating the wound (which is a healthy shade of pink, and not oozing one little bit.)

I’ll probably go after them with tweezers, an X-Acto blade, and a dental pick (these tools for working on miniatures are so dang handy) sometime on Tuesday. Don’t tell Doctor Harline. I don’t think he reads this blog yet, so I should be able to get away with it.