The world is an amazing place.  Doctors and scientists find cures for diseases every day.  We communicate through tiny waves sent to space in spectrums that we can neither see nor hear without some pretty amazing technology to translate.  We can travel from one side of the world to another in a few hours.  And anyone with a few bucks can buy fake dog poo on ebay.

Yes.  I said that.

The other night, in a fit of boredom, I sat at my computer and thought to myself, "Think something random."

In days long gone, the dinner table served as a gathering place for families.  It was the social gathering site where the day was recounted over a hot cooked meal, and the family coalesced into a single unit after being apart for the day.
   
Life updates were exchanged over clinking silverware and emptying plates.  What happened at work?  How'd you do on that math test?  You know what the price of milk was going for at the supermarket?
   
Wants and needs, thoughts and wishes, hopes and dreams.  The dinner table provided the vehicle for any topic to casually slide into the forefront.     It was where possibilities were discussed, decisions were made, and lives altered.

Stress is one of those realities of life that we all experience.  Whether it's stress on our job or stress in our relationships, eventually this harbinger affects us all.  It's how we handle this stress that separates our good days from our bad.
   
One day last week, I was having one of those stressful days that threatens to redefine the term.  It was job stress and it seemed nothing was going to go right for me.
   
From spilling the first sip of coffee in my lap to dribbling salsa on my shirt during lunch to dealing with a major website error, this day was destined to work against me from the first waking minute.  

This past week, I had my bi-annual kidney stone attack.  Only, this attack was a culmination of a bunch of small attacks that have happened over the last few months. 

It finally got to the point where I couldn't keep anything down (read: upchuck) and I decided to call my urologist.

It happened Sunday night after I had scheduled my Pork Laxative blog for Monday morning distribution.  In fact, it happened ALL Sunday night.  I slept about 2 hours because the pain had me up and ambulatory (read: moving around like a Gypsie, no offense intended).

Latin word alert:  Ambulare - to walk or move about, which is a reference to early medical care where patients were moved by lifting or wheeling.