The color is... RED!

Anyone else remember that great '70s movie, The Wiz? You know, the African-American remake of The Wizard of Oz with an African-American cast featuring Diana Ross (pre-weave), Nipsey Russell (bless his soul) and Michael Jackson (before he was white)? Emerald City is set as this Harlem Renaissance-on-steroids kind of place with elegant people circling and dancing around at the whim of the Wiz, who declares what the color of the moment is. Once he says "The color is... [enter color here]," the entire scene changes color, costumes and all, and the denizens of Oz sing the virtues of the new color and of how passé the old one was.

I guess you had to be there.

Anyway, the color of the day appears to be red. Everybody dance now.

Seriously. We have a RED terrorist alert, thanks to those bozos with the liquid explosives. [Disclosure alert: now the threat is yellow, but don't freeze my flow, ok?] The forecast high today in Houston was 98 degrees with a heat index of 110, which gave us an Ozone alert of RED. It's August, so my bank account is probably riding rather close to RED. I have iritis, which means that my right eye is RED. I'm here in Texas, which as you know is a RED state (to my everlasting chagrin). You get my drift.

But don't misunderestimate me (speaking of red states). I love red. But the good kind. My dream home will have at least one wall in "Ming Red." My pedicure always ends in the application of some shade of red or another. [Lateral annotation: my nail salon uses OPI products. Their marketing people are completely, brilliantly clever. The shades have names like "Friar, Friar, Pants on Fire" and "Mrs. O'Leary's BBQ."] I am currently coveting the Le Creuset Demi Tea Kettle with Symphonic Whistle in red. There are several (ok, dozens) of red items in my wardrobe. In fact my favorite shade to wear is one I endearingly refer to as "Screaming Whore Red." I'm told that is a real shade, but for me it's more of a category. I heard it once and decided, for euphony alone, I had to make it mine. Not sure if it is supposed to be the red that a screaming whore would wear, or if there is a comma missing, as in a red that is both screaming and whorish. I by no means intend to indicate that I am in any way, shape or form a screamer, a whore, or a screaming whore. One can never be too careful where inferences are involved.

Speaking of being careful, I love the way this blog thingy lets you link texts to websites. I like it because it means I don't have to explain everything that might want explaining. The benefit for you is that if you don't need the explanation, you can skip it; which might be difficult if the entire explanation/illustration were in the blogbody (is that a word? You're on your own). Again, I digress. The website with which I chose to elucidate iritis (see above if you've been skipping around this post. Bad Yankee Hobbit Fan!) mentions the fact that it can result in blindess if it is not treated.

Now granted, this is a blog, so it is heavy on my ideas and personal experiences. And I've had iritis 3 times now. Each time it has been one of the more painful experiences I have had, a view I am told is fairly universal to the condition. Almost from the onset you have extreme sensitivity to light (my brother in law the pediatrician calls it photophobia, which is more descriptive) and even if you manage to elude the photons, you generally feel like someone is wrenching white-hot (or shall I say red-hot) pokers into the center of your brain. In exactly what universe would someone not seek treatment for that? Deep sigh of exasperation.

For those of you who do read and follow the illustrations, worry not. Most (80-90%) cases have no known cause, are not connected to systemic illness and resolve fairly quickly (thank God) with steroid drops. I am not, so far, in the minority in this instance.

Anyhoo, supper calls. Have a red-diggety day! In the best way....