Friday, December 21, 2018

Christmas Crampus

How very festive.
I'm simply bursting with Christmas cheer this year!  Why, there are even lights on the tree AND front porch!  I bought a wreath!  I've started writing greeting cards, even!  Six of them so far, then I had to stop because I'm not used to actually WRITING BY HAND anymore and lo, the cramps start early when you're as out of practice as I am.  Folks are just going to have to accept that I can probably only do a few a day and enjoy their daggone cards whenever they arrive, because by now it's way too late to expect them to be delivered before Santa shows up.

Confession: I am using the cards I bought last year and never mailed.  So sue me.


Our 10th anniversary is coming up soon, and to celebrate we went and bought us a hot tub.  At first we were going to go on a cruise, but didn't plan (sense a pattern here?) far enough ahead and then a hot tub show popped up, we went, and now can stroll out to the backyard any time we want to and immerse in luxurious hot spa-licious neck-deep water.

I might not get around to wrapping all the Christmas presents, is what I'm hinting at.


Speaking of presents, I did nearly all of my shopping online this year, per usual, but did go to the Lidl and Aldi for yummy German goodies.  The gifts have all arrived, and are sitting in a pile in one corner of our bedroom.  I do not recall everything I purchased, or for whom, so opening the boxes should prove to be quite exciting.  The size of any clothing will be a hint, and I THINK one of my boys isn't getting any clothing at all (a first!), but who knows?  I could have forgotten to get someone anything atall!

We're running low on wrapping paper too.  Guess a trip to the dollar store is in order.  Just as soon as  I drop these 6 Christmas cards at the Post Office.  SOMEONE might get one on time!


I'm off from work now until 02 January, which seems like a long time but isn't really enough.  I'm already dreading going back to work a little, because 2019 is going to be gruesome.  My main project is is a high-value prospect for the company and as such is on a HIGHLY accelerated timeline, which already gives me stress belly.

Not for nothing that I recently purchased a big bottle of magnesium supplements.  I'll be ringing in the new year with those bad boys in my system.  Fingers crossed they work!


And on that high note, I shall leave you with my very best wishes to you for a joyful holiday, and all the best in 2019!
This is the look I'm going for this year - gettin' lit!

Thursday, November 29, 2018

This thing on?

It never ever pays to go back to sleep right away after waking up too early.  That's rule #1 for a happy day.  If you DO go back to sleep, or try and only fitfully succeed, you might just find yourself working as lead marketing assistant for the "Hugh Louis and the Neuse" band (I think you know who I mean), managing their music catalog and having to constantly shift the banners on the wall to which of their songs are playing best right this minute.

Of all 8 of their albums.

In 2018.

When the last popular song they had on ys olde top twoscore (U.S.) was in 1991. 

Never mind - you must memorize and track all of them, which of course is helped by the only station they pump into corporate headquarters being the only station that plays all of their music, ranked by current popularity and re-ranked daily.


So that's one way to have a nightmare.


This is the first blog post of 2018.

I am really tired of facebook.

There is a person I know who posts at least 20 things a day on that platform.  Most of it is absolute rubbish, reposts of 'news' or pictures of themselves doing things that nobody even very interesting would be interesting enough to want to see that many posts from.

Then again, I used to blog every day, so...

I think that maybe, like, TWO pots a day on FB are enough?  That seems like a lot, even for a dying platform that some folks have climbed aboard to use as their social media bully pulpit.

Just guessing here, but I bet the folks who do that don't know about Reddit.


Three months ago someone I worked with said they were worried because they still had to finish their Christmas shopping.

This is not a thing I worry about.  Christmas shopping starts, generally, on 01 December and ends when you can no longer overnight a package in time to wrap the gift and stick it under the tree.

(OK, confession time - I have started holiday shopping this year.  The ol' credit card was sticking me in the thigh on Black Friday, so what are ya gonna do?)

Can't break with tradition though, so will spend the next week or so thinking on what I plan to purchase, wait to get a tree, maybe not decorate it at all, then dread going back to work in 2019.


Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Pneu to the neighborhood

Will hurt you for no reason.
Last Friday I was complaining (again) about being sick.  Also last Friday, AFTER writing that post,  I hie'd myself to the doc in a box down at that local CVS to get checked out, as the sounds in my lungs were getting louder and I was of the opinion that, in fact, I wan't getting better, but worse.

A call the previous day to my doctor's office resulted in the advice to 'take Alka-Seltzer Plus cold medicine,' which had not helped.  A call Friday afternoon to the doc's office yielded no satisfaction either, as they weren't able to see me and couldn't prescribe anything to me for this because it's been two years since I needed an inhaler and ohwell.  Sucks to be me.  Therefore, the doc in a box.

Turns out I have/had pneumonia.

Turns out I walked out of that CVS with three shiny new medications to combat the pneumonia, and an admonishment to come back Monday if I wasn't feeling significantly better.

It took until Sunday afternoon (48 h after diagnosis and start of antibiotics) to start feeling a little better.  Here it is Wednesday, and I still can't draw a deep breath without my throat tickling and setting off a coughing fit, but I don't have a fever anymore, don't make noises when I breathe, can smell food without heaving, and can stay awake for simply HOURS at a time.

I think I'm going to make it, is what I'm saying.

Seems like  I go through this every couple of years.  It's not something to make a habit of, that's for damned sure.

As a result, of course I don't have stuff ready for Christmas, but ohwell on that too.  It'll get 'done' or it won't.  The tree is up, the lights are on it, and Biff has hung the outdoor lights, but that's it.  I'll probably spend some time tarting up the place before Christmas day, but first  I should do the Christmas CARDS, which won't get to where they need to be by Monday anyhow, but ohwell on that too.

Or is it 'No-well'?

Tiff out.

Friday, December 15, 2017

I'd like to offer up a nice complaint, with a side of whinging

Oh, why hello ailments, how has it been 3 long months ago that I last got horribly ill?  That long?  You say you missed me?  I wonder if you think I can say the same about you.

Oh, to feel your clammy hands on my brow, to be overcome with the flush of feverish heat, to choke and sputter at your advent and, truly, through your entire time with me, you make such a vivid impression.

Why, this time around you have given me more gifts that I have any right to expect.  Shall I name them for you?  Of course I shall, for remembering this visit in case you never come to me again will remind me of the intensity of our time spent together.

You have bestowed on me:

  • Coughs
  • Chills and fever
  • MUCUS so copious I hardly know where to begin in description
  • Nausea and vomiting.  Truly unexpected.
  • Lung noises so many and varied that last night I thought I was dreaming of an Australian woman saying 'oh no' time and time again, but in reality it was just my upper left lobe doing a damned good impersonation.  Really, very impressive, and how specific!
It's been 4+ days now though, sweet friend, and I must ask you to go.  When you are here, I hardly get any sleep, or work done, or  chores completed, and as impactful as our lives together have been in these last few days, I feel the need to return to more mundane aspects of life.

Like, breathing freely.  I miss that.

And eating.  I miss that too.  This was not your best gift, I must say.

Also, I have discovered that as much as I LOVE MY BED, it's not the best place for me when you are around.  Sad, I know, but the recliner that is so reliable in the times we spend together isn't the best place to catch all the requisite 'zzzs' one needs to be fully functional.

So, I bid you adieu.  We have had some intense moments together this year, and looking back on them I will all the more appreciate the fact that I have now, I believe, gotten over you.

With this, I ask that you don't visit me any more.

Consider yourself broken up with.


Wednesday, November 01, 2017

Sometimes I re-read, and decide to repost.

I need to get my creative juices flowing again.  Things have been a bit stunted lately.

I miss the days of writing, and blogging, and commenting, and being generally more entwined with people (even online) that I am now.  Things are all so throwaway now.  So packed with monetized content and PURPOSE, like social interaction has to mean something, for God's sake.

Sometimes you just want to laugh at a fart joke.

Or to turn the other direction and read something like this story I wrote many moons ago, in a voice that still tells most of my stories.  I really REALLY wish I knew who this tale-teller is that bubbles up whenever someone tells me to 'write something,' but there she is, time after time.

She needs a name.

Because, apparently, she's had kind of a rough life.

The story below, for example.


Well, you know, it hurt like a sonofabitch for a while, then it didn’t, then for a while it did again.

Fucking headaches, anyhow. They come fast as a buck rabbit on a doe sometime, and sometimes they’re like a hog on a sow, can’t break ‘em.

All my dang life, every day, which one’s it gonna be, buck or hog? If a buck, then the day’s work gets done no questions, cuz there’s 15 hours left of work at least before cleanup starts, but a hog? That’ll take half the day away and the washing won’t get done if it’s Wensdy, nor the irnin on Thursdiy.

Years back, before these grips kep comin on I went to school. I can still remember how to read and write, but by God if just keeping up with everything don’t keep a person from total recall on all the things they once knew.

That’s why I know to write this down now, before all the headaches claim what’s left of my sensibilities and I wind up just chasing one job to another tryin’ to git it all done before I don’t remember how to even speak.
Even my writing takes shorthand now. I just looked at what I wrote, not 60 minutes after the buck left the building, and I don’t even know who that person is. Oh, I know who the fuck the BUCK is, that much is for sure, but who wrote that what speaks of the bucking effects? I have no idea.
This sickness is eating me from the inside; it’s changing me. 
It’s tiring as hell. I don’t even get to drink a damn potion on purpose to make it happen.
I need to go do the laundry now. It’s already Thursday and I still need to iron.
Still Thursday.
A week later.
All is calm.
Friday is here. The boar is back. Stone cold sober he ain’t because he’s been goin at me for hours now, and I can’t get anything done at all. 

Take one step, he take another to block me.

Try to sidestep by chugging some water (sometimes that helps) but he keeps coming on. Determined to win this time. I am no match. Sense make no sense. 

Oh. I can’t see.
There’s a bug in my mouth. I can’t let go of it for fear of alerting the headachers. One complaint, they’re back. No complaint, I can keep the peace. It’s a burden, but worth the stillness. Like a quiet uncomfortable soundtrack, a secret silence, a scream in a vacuum.

It’s fine. I can do this.
Things are so heavy all over. Workin against the weight is hard. Daggone boar is hard at work now, pushin and mashin and just being ugly all over. Can’t get much done anymore. I scream at myself when I can.
Roll over. Hurts in arms. Night is everywhere. Legs are jumpy. I vomit.
There’s the spider. I hide it under my arms so nobody sees it. There are lots of people around.
Bright lights.
I feel strong and weak. 
More spiders. I vomit them from my guts, my lungs, my brain, my heart, my skin as I am bursting from within, bones breaking, heart growing, fear escaping.
I shout spiders, scream them, roar them, own them, claim them, banish them in this moment of power.
The spiders leave. They are afraid.
So are the buck and boar. They are afraid of the truth in my mouth, the poison they put there I was so feared of loosing. Cowards. Me included ,but no more.
I hold someone soft and warm.
Bonny baby.

So, yeah.  Happy All Saint's Day.  I guess.