So I continue my multi-year mission to not only read all the Star Trek books, but blog about them and how they incorporate in my life. Today the blend was pretty obvious. After some vacillating, which I wrote about yesterday, I decided to start reading Star Trek: TNG #51, Double Helix: Infection. I am moving along at a nice clip, and I am already on page 71! (the print is large and the pages small, which help a lot). So far, they have at least one good scene where Worf walks in on Tasha showering and gets very uncomfortable to say the least. I laughed because if they put something like that in the show, a lot of us geeks would identify at getting uncomfortable around the other sex.
But here I am reading ‘Robin Cook writes Trek’ and my poor husband got his first silent migraine. I get them, and we try to share everything, but he doesn’t have to share that! I rubbed his head and neck, which helped, but he wouldn’t take Tylenol, and he wouldn’t even drink coffee. I started turning into Bones, mumbling under my breath about his green blood and Vulcan logic. Who knew that I had an inner McCoy waiting to get crabby? The funny thing is that McCoy isn’t even in this book, so it’s not a case of ‘Monkey see, monkey do’, it’s a matter of having an inner crabby country doctor.
So if my husband is Spock and I am Bones, then who is Kirk? (suddenly I have visions of our future child springing forth from my womb with a bad toupee and wildly gesturing arms, saying in staggered breaths, “Mom…. Get me some MILK…” Scary thought. Much scarier than Double Helix: Infection.
But here I am reading ‘Robin Cook writes Trek’ and my poor husband got his first silent migraine. I get them, and we try to share everything, but he doesn’t have to share that! I rubbed his head and neck, which helped, but he wouldn’t take Tylenol, and he wouldn’t even drink coffee. I started turning into Bones, mumbling under my breath about his green blood and Vulcan logic. Who knew that I had an inner McCoy waiting to get crabby? The funny thing is that McCoy isn’t even in this book, so it’s not a case of ‘Monkey see, monkey do’, it’s a matter of having an inner crabby country doctor.
So if my husband is Spock and I am Bones, then who is Kirk? (suddenly I have visions of our future child springing forth from my womb with a bad toupee and wildly gesturing arms, saying in staggered breaths, “Mom…. Get me some MILK…” Scary thought. Much scarier than Double Helix: Infection.
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