There's never really a bad time to listen to a little more Judy Garland, is there, and certainly a song like "Zing! Went the Strings of My Heart" is both seasonal and timeless.
Still, since the strings of my own heart went Zing! in a distinctly less appealing way about this time last year, I'm continuing the one-year commemoration as we head into Valentine's Day. After the heart attack came the open-heart surgery, and one year to the day from that rather stupendous bore, I'm happy to say that all signs are go.
I had a follow-up with my really rather dishy cardiologist yesterday, and it turns out he's very impressed. Apparently, it's actually rather unusual for a patient to in fact do all the things that we're told to, and the results have been - and I'm quoting here - "sensational" (an adjective not, I believe, applied to my person since approximately 1983, and even then someone was being kind). The EKG shows not a trace of aftereffects of the heart attack, and all my various numbers are good enough that a great deal of the medication I've been on is being discontinued. If nothing else, that should mean I'll stop bruising in a fashion that recalls the unfortunate last Tsarevich of All the Russias, which will be nice.
And - and this is really rather pleasant - barring the unforeseen, I don't require further follow-up for a year. Oh, it's not that I don't like the Dishy Cardiologist, mind you, but I can think of better ways of spending even the dreariest of February Fridays (and yesterday was close, mind you) than being hooked up to a heart monitor.
So we're sailing into this long weekend with a song in our hearts. This week also includes Mr. Muscato's birthday, so on Thursday we had a festive dinner for a variety of friends - the Retired Bikers, the Cleaning-Service Moguls, some work colleagues - and celebrated. The friendly little Continental joint that we like seemed very pleased to host us - it's awfully nice, isn't it, being a regular somewhere? - and in general I'm feeling far more benign about Valentine's Day (a normally rather irritating sort of holiday) than is usually the case.
And, if nothing else, doesn't Judy look sensational here? I love it when she pulled it together and, for once, wasn't dressed in an absolute horror. When she gets going, it really is a rhapsody divine.