Yesterday was an annoying day as I ended up in the emergency room because of chest pain. Do not panic; I am fine. But when you're 60 years old and you're talking to medical personnel while trying to figure out ongoing weirdness, each symptom you mention sounds like incipient heart attack. And thus there we were: sent to the ER for tests. It's good and relieving news to know that every single one came back as normal, but I do not want to see the bill for this, and I'm still no clearer about what the hell with my ongoing floating rib-cage pain. All I can assume is some kind of virus. But at least everyone is now confident that I'm not about to drop dead.

Anyway, enough of that irritating subject. It's Sunday morning; I slept well last night and feel okay so far this morning. I've got plans to walk to a friend's house and prep for our conference presentation. And then I'll figure out how to cook corned beef. I rarely bother with Saint Patrick's Day, but Paul loves a holiday dinner and I can't resist a coaxing son.