Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingles ALL the way…

We”ll spare you the finer details—unless you have a of couple hours, a strong stomach, and want to chat—but the experience has left us with a list of three Lessons Learned that we’d like to share.

1. Don’t get shingles on your face.

It hurts like stink all the way to the back of your eyeballs.  In fact, for a day or two at the beginning, we thought the swelling and pain was due to a recent root canal gone seriously bad. As it turned out, that probably would have been better.

Once awakened, the dormant chickenpox virus that lingers in all previous inflictees morphs into a bad-tempered, sun-seeking viper with blood red eyes, an evil temper, and epic halitosis. It snakes through the nerves, needle-like tongue flicking hungrily as it searches for a path out, undulating until it finds a way up through the skin surface where it can finally ooze its way into the warmth of day, emerging as taut, shiny little blisters. The nerves along the path become inflamed and incredibly sensitive, making this flicking business extremely uncomfortable. On top of all that, you have a virus in the classic sense of “You are now officially going to feel like ten pounds of nasty in a five-pound bag for a solid week or so.”

Regardless of a reasonable explanation for why it’s called “shingles,” it should, at minimum, be called “stingles,” and even that’s too cutesy. There must be government funding available for a campaign to change the name to “bubonic blisters,” right?

We hope this short description has adequately motivated you for #2 Lesson below.

2. Do get a shingles vaccine.

Once again, there’s proof that we’re early adopters in this household, as shingles usually strikes people aged 60 or older. (Apparently, exceptions can be made to this rule.) Fortunately, the risk of reactivating the virus can be reduced by a shot of Zostavax.

Note to y’all in the relevant age category, or have friends or relatives who qualify: GET. THE. VACCINE.

Since a decent case of shingles helps develop an immunity to it, Kathy probably won’t get the vaccine now. It’s an ironic upside to an otherwise lackluster experience, unless you also count losing eight pounds in eight days an “upside.” Yes, the eight pounds was sort of a perk, but not one that comes anywhere close to compensating for the cost of entry.

3. Shingles is unleashed by stress. Therefore, we have come to a firm resolve that we must do more.

While the online experts aren’t willing to bet their snazzy white lab coats on it, the consensus seems to be that a compromised immune system and/or stress are the culprits that open the door to the sleeping viper.  And as life-style wake-up calls go, the medic seems to think it’s been a pretty gentle knock at the door.

One option is to just hit the snooze button and wait for loved ones to wear red in her memory. An alternate path, and one we have decided is the better way to go, is to resolve to do more.

More exercise.

More yogurt and fresh fish.

More stretching and gratitude and sunshine.

More playing music and singing.

More driving in the right-hand lane, and more silent blessing of the aggressive pre-shingles candidates in the far left lane who seem intent on turning each other into organ donors.

More yoga (Okay… some yoga. Baby steps.)

And more baby steps in this general direction.

Sometimes, more actually is more.

See? I don’t know everything.

We LOVE our iPads. Via keyboards that are built for actual adult human fingers, they connect us to our own brains, lives, world, libraries, calendars, data, work communities, families, and each other in ways that are difficult to describe.

So if you rip open an elegantly packaged electronic device on Christmas morning that purrs with ease-of-use as it welcomes you to the Borg, be happy. You just got the best new toy, ever.

Yet, in addition to my iPad and favorite 48 apps, there are a few things I am thankful for that Mr. Jobs has not introduced to my life.

Namely, Rick, Winnie, and something called “the Ocean.”

So it’s a serious issue when, as a couple, your lifestyle doesn’t represent a responsible space for living with a dog.

What does that say about your life?

It means you either need to give up on connecting in a meaningful way with the wonderful species of canines, become cat people, or find a new lifestyle.

Wanting but not having a dog is equivalent to failing to connect to the color green, or to great spaghetti sauce, or to laughter.

And yes, cats are fabulous, if you enjoy a life of domesticated service and don’t have allergies to cat saliva, disdain, or shredded everything.

So when the “wanting to but not being able to” light bulb went off in our collective head this month, it served as yet one more confirmation that the time has come to make some changes.

Ready?

We’re making some changes.

We’re also communicating with the Southern California Poodle Rescue Operation, and have bought the book “The Art of Raising a Puppy,” by the monks of the New Skete Monastery.

Stand by… Things are going to get very wriggly, and warm, and wonderful around here…

… you’re probably the type of user who prefers to commit your errors in private.

But even the most die-hard “doofus moment” protector…

… will at some point face the experience of ranting against some defective piece o’ sh!t…

… only to gain the character-enhancing humility of being busted with a “user error.”

And this is why we have friends.

This was my favorite one. Depending on where my eyes land when I see it, I snort out loud for one of several reasons:

a) That the giraffe feels the need for accessories at all.

2) That he came up with a table full of critters with no neck, voting on a proposal to standardize on drop earrings.

III) That he captured the grim reality that in almost every business meeting on the planet, there is predictably one squawking spokesbird willing to speak for everyone, one automatic naysayer who sits, back turned to the productive end of things with thumbs permanently in the “down” position, and one dozer who has made an art form of snoozing through meetings without drooling or snoring.

This is the skill of a great cartoonist: to tease out into plain view the resonating ridiculousness of what passes for serious human business.

Rick has been doing that from about the second grade on.

And in a world that measures quality and relevance in terms of commercial acceptance and monetary success, we’re genuinely chuffed that 28 of his cartoons are finally in a printed, bound, and published book.

Available on Amazon.com. And kindle. And other places, even.

Of course, this doesn’t “make” him a real cartoonist, any more than being represented in a gallery “makes” you a real painter or being downloadable from iTunes for 99 cents “makes” you a real musician.

We can tell you this, though: having had the chance to illustrate The Ten Commandments for Effective Standards by Karen Bartleson does make him pretty dang jazzed.