Awoke with a bad headache early this morning; took some aspirin but was unable to get back to sleep. Pain was still raging when I arrived at the Palo Alto Medical Foundation (or clinic) for my physical exam, and was not helped by their making me wait another half-hour. The new doctor listened, looked, and prodded; then he put on a glove, lubed up with the K-Y Jelly, and while performing the rudest inspection <1> he advised me that my prostate was very small; typical for a man my age. Fun fact, according to the M.D.: the average human generates a quart of mucus each day. Afterwards, on my way back to work, I stopped off at home for an Esgic tablet; now, two hours later, the headache is receding and coming out of it feels rejuvenating!

I'm reading Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods - he's a stitch. This is a record of his hike up the Appalachian Trail (AT) with a rotund chum named Katz. Snow in the upper reaches has them languishing in the very small town of Franklin, Georgia:

I wanted to get back on the trail, to knock off miles. It was what we did. Besides, I was bored to a point somewhat beyond being bored out of my mind. Late on the third afternoon I stood in a Burger King and studied, with absorption, the photographs of the manager and his executive crew (reflecting on the curious fact that people who go into hamburger management always look as if their mother slept with Goofy), then slid one pace right to examine the Employee of the Month awards. It was then that I realized I had to get out of Franklin.

The post-op foot pain is noticeably less severe today.

This just in off the BBC - latest incident of "air rage": A fight among twelve passengers aboard a London-Jamaica flight ended yesterday with an emergency, unscheduled landing in Norfolk.