It’s official. I DO have strep. I blame Fuzzy for bringing it home (his co-worker caught it from his wife, who had scarlet fever), and giving it to me, though he doesn’t seem symptomatic at all. Spent the morning getting the back of my throat prodded, buying drugs and mushy sore throat-friendly food, and had a croaky chat with my mother.
Am now going to go back to sleep, as I’m confined to quarters til Monday.
And I have nothing to read.
Argh!
Have been nursing a sore throat (again) for two days – determined however that this time it’s most likely strep. Oh, joy. Being sick sort of makes everything around me feel surreal and disconnected, as if I’m looking at someone else’s picture book, or seeing someone else’s movie. Everything exists in a sort of watery haze.
It was, therefore, appropriate that Fuzzy and I watched Lady in the Water tonight. We’d missed it in theatres, and so brought it home with a free coupon from Blockbuster. I expected a weak thriller. I got a beautiful, haunting, moody, fairy tale. Shyamalan calls the tale a bedtime story and explains that he based it on made-up bedtime stories he shared with his children. As always, he’s crafted a wonderful mood, a delightful modern fable. If I had kids of my own, I’d totally buy the book for them.
My brain isn’t functioning enough to add more to this. Have a good weekend everyone.
I mean, I like them, but close proximity to them makes me all sneezy, which is never good. Nevertheless, I love watching big cats – you know lions and tigers and panthers, and such – so when I saw the latest shapeshifter scent at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, I had to order it:
From the BPAL website:
BAKENEKO
In sharp contrast to the stark sterility of Hunger Moon, we present a carnivorous chaotic charmer: the bakeneko. The Monster Cat is a shapeshifter, and is empowered to take the form of a beautiful woman (to entice lonely gentlemen) or a winsome young maiden (to the peril of childless couples). Though some bakeneko are benevolent, and only wish to find someone to care for them, or to show gratitude to a mortal that has done them a great service, others are furry balls of malevolent mayhem. Their mischief ranges from simply destructive — knocking over lamps and destroying property, tossing ghostly, freezing fireballs from their hands — to horrifying acts of carnage.(Warm amber musk, Satsuma tangerine, black tea leaf, cardamom, cherry blossom and cinnamon.)
And speaking of watching cats…
My friend Rana is an amazingly caring cat-mom. So much so, that in an effort to both save cash and not torment a recently-ill kitty, she’s trying to do a natural capture of a urine specimen. I know this because our relationship is generally limited to online exchanges and the occasional sharing of coffee and conversation in person, but today she actually called me. Why? Because she had errands to run, and needed someone to watch the kitty cam and see if the cat used the litterbox. I was happy to help.
She made me promise to not make her seem like a moron. I don’t think there’s anything moronic in caring for your pet that much – I mean, I learned how to give Zorro rectal injections of valium when he was seizing, so HE wouldn’t have to sleep in a cage.
Of course, that wasn’t televised.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I woke around three from a nightmare in which my decades-deceased uncle was partially transformed into a panther, and was being interrogated, while I and someone I couldn’t identify held paperbacks, and argued about whether the pages flying around were loose because of a ghost or because spilled vinegar had melted the glue in the binding. I was on the side of vinegar. The dream sounds funny, now, I know, but in the dark, in the night, it was creepy and left me awake with my skin tingling, and while the details faded, the terror lingered. Poor Fuzzy tried to soothe me but the only solution was to be awake, so I pulled the laptop in bed with me, and left the lights out so he could sleep, and finally went to sleep again around five, waking when Fuzzy nudged me to tell me that he was leaving.
Only after I’d worked for an hour from bed did I realize that it was cold, and grey and damp outside. I looked out to the mailbox to see if mail had come, and couldn’t tell, but a very pale golden retriever was hovering around the mailbox (not surprising, as it’s Zorro and Cleo’s favorite spot to leave messages) and it saw me and wagged its tail. I went out an hour or so later to check the mail, and it was across the street. It sat and wagged at me, and I decided that if it was still out and the damp turned to rain, I would bring it into the garage and give it water and a blanket and see if its collar held id tags that were of any use. But when I checked again when the rain started, there was no sign of the dog.
I’ve seen it before, in the neighborhood, but can’t remember where it lives. Poor thing. I could tell it wanted to be home.
My throat is all raw again today, and I feel kind of blechy. Not sick exactly, just…blechy. As if the grey damp day has settled into my mood in a bad way.
This afternoon I wrote about 300 words about Honda Accords. My first official work. Still don’t have the manual I was told about. Must remember to check on that. I like these little 250-ish word reviews. They’re quick and snappy and since it’s just content there are no funky keywords to embed. Also, it’s informative.
Had pumpkin I had to use, so made pie this afternoon. We hadn’t made it over Christmas because I forgot to get the evaporated milk. As it is, Fuzzy brought me back a can each of evaporated and condensed, so I used them both (recipe calls for two cans of evaporated), and used the dregs of the condensed milk to sweeten my mug of chicory-laced coffee from Cafe du Monde, a present from my cousin Stacie in Louisiana, whose birthday is TOMORROW. (Must remember to call her.) She’s got this gentle Southern accent and as sharp a tongue as I have, though her humor is kinder than mine. We’re just getting to know each other after a lifetime of really being just names to one another, and it’s been a great experience.
And now? Now Fuzzy is home, and I made his favorite vegetables, and I’m going to putter and do laundry and maybe be in bed by one.
I’ve had a reprieve of sorts from my first day of work, as the manual that we were supposed to receive before Christmas is not yet here. Boss says I should have it tomorrow. My plan is to bring the laptop out by the fire and read in comfort.
Granted another vacation day, I spent it revamping my blog. I do this from time to time, anyway, but today’s revamp includes the addition of a second column, mostly to hold adsense and amazon links, a completely new color scheme, and oh, yes, I changed all my various IM id’s as well (so if I’m on any of your lists, you probably got a re-auth request).
My archives and category listings now appear on the archive page, and eventually other links will go live. In the meantime, pardon the dust – it generally takes me a couple days to do all the tweaking I want to accomplish.
I’ve never been one for posting lists of resolutions. Witness my post from December, 2004, in which I said:
o, just as I’ve tried to make it a rule that I do at least one productive thing every day, I’m going to resolve in very vague forms: to learn something new, to make a new friend, to help someone, and to do something to improve myself. Is this cheating? I don’t think so.
I didn’t post anything even similar at the end of 2005 or beginning of 2006, choosing to stick to the same goals. And truly? I think I’ve succeeded, though sometimes my “one productive thing” has been stretched to include “take a shower” or “get dressed,” but when you work from home these make all the difference.
In any case, I’ve learned many new things over the last year, made several new friends, and connected with a couple old ones, joined a group that helps me help others, and am taking small steps in the arena of self improvement. While these goals are still in place, maybe it’s time to be more specific?
So, while these aren’t really resolutions, as much as GOALS, here’s my obligatory “Things to do in 2007” list:
And there you have it. Not very lofty goals, and actually they’re being layered on top of the list from 2004, because I think it’s a good list to keep, but goals nonetheless.
Check with me in a few months to see how I’m doing.
If my title is less than original tonight / this morning, at least the sentiment is sincere. We spent the evening hanging out at ComedySportz where I was NOT on the liners, but came just to help out. Technically we’re required to, and honestly, it was fun to watch the show for a change – the last two months I’ve either been away, on stage, or the show has been dark.
I was supposed to play last night, but felt icky and had NO VOICE so called in sick, which got me some well earned rest. I slept away most of Friday, and a good portion of Saturday, and while I felt a bit groggy this morning, and my back still hurts as it always does during certain times of the month, I had fun helping out tonight. We did two shows, and in spite of the chaos that entailed, our arena was like an island of calm in the even more chaotic West End. Someone had rented the bars in the building for the night, you see, charged $100 / head, and given an open bar and three bands, BUT, they over-sold and weren’t organized and by midnight the building was full of smokey pissed-off drunk people. Mmm, attractive.
My aunt commented that it was interesting to see me in a CSz show on Saturday night and then transition into wearing a cassock and surplice and singing at high Mass on Sunday morning, and I guess it’s true from outside my life, but if she knew how funny and snarky we are in choir practice, and how the ladies of the choir often whisper through the homily, and how much laughter is involved, she might not think it so. What I do know is that Sunday mornings post-show, especially if I was in it, and not just helping, come too soon after Saturday nights, and it’s often hard to find my vocal balance in the mornings. Tonight, however, is Sunday, and therefore there is no issue – our loftiest plan for Monday is that we might catch a movie.
Meanwhile, my mother has emailed to wish me a Happy New Year (she was probably in bed by ten), and my feet are screaming for new sneakers, and I have yet to eat anything approaching real food today – cake at church, soup and a sandwich I couldn’t finish at Panera at lunch, and then chips, pretzels, a coke, and a couple miniature eclairs at the show. I think I may be hungry, but I’m not sure.
In any case, the night is more than half done, and I have nowhere to be in the morning. I might post resolutions. I might not. Either way, I wish everyone reading this the very happiest of new years. May 2007 bring you whatever you want, when you want it.
Peace.
Pink frosting on yellow cake was the order of the day today immediately following mass. We were marking the retirement of Deacon Claire and the leaving of our organist and choir director, Clyde, and cake has never been such a mix of sweet and bitter without involving chocolate or coffee before.
I never really had a chance to know Deacon Claire. She seemed merry and smart, and warm, if not quite as immediately gregarious as Fr. Young. She has a lovely speaking voice, a bit gravelly from age, but still easy on the ears. It was mentioned today that she’s a Franciscan, and for the second time I commented to Fuzzy that I hadn’t realized the Episcopal church had orders, the way the Catholic church does. He merely smirked and said, “You said that last time.” And I never resolved the lack of information. Not very good on my part.
Clyde, on the other hand, is someone who I’d count as a friend. He’s funny – even snarky at times – warm, engaging, and amazingly talented. Consider, he not only plays the organ and acts as cantor but ALSO directs our balky and sometimes extremely amateurish choir. Directed. Acted. Today was his last day. Everyone tried to bribe him to stay, while also trying to respect his wishes, his needs – he lost both parents this year, and work (his day job) and family are demanding more of his time. You can’t really argue with that.
And so today after mass, after singing Christmas carols (because it’s still Christmastide in the church), we met in the parish hall and toasted these people, and laughed with them, and hugged them, and marked their leaving with plaques and cake with pink frosting.
I hope they got the corner pieces with the slightly salty sugar roses.
The corner pieces are the best, after all, and they deserved them.
I spent the day puttering on the computer. Never got around to making the turkey soup I’d planned to make – didn’t feel up to it. Was freezing until ten minutes ago when I woke up sweating. But I’m feeling lucky, even though I’m sick, because I have a warm cozy house to feel sick in.
The dogs left piles of non-returnable presents all over the house today, apparently their statement about the weather. (Chihuahuas don’t like getting their dainty feet wet, don’t you know.) But even though I’m annoyed with them, I’m lucky to have them to cuddle with when I don’t feel well, and to bark at every noise they deem threatening, and to have their sweet faces reaching up to mine whenever I feel sad or grumpy, or come home after an absence of greater than three minutes. And puppy-kisses make everything better.
My parents emailed me to say thank you for hosting Christmas, and so did my aunt, and you know? Even though my family is damned annoying at times, and even though there’s a REASON I live 2500 miles away from my mother, I’m lucky to have parents who encouraged me to be independent and a free thinker, and an aunt who, when she’s not being just a little too neurotic, will listen to whatever I need to talk about. I’m also lucky that Ira, my stepfather, cares for my mother so tenderly and with such patience. I will never have to worry about her being alone in the world.
Fuzzy and I bicker a lot, and don’t go on dates as often as we should, and yes, sometimes we IM or text each other’s phones, or even just call each other within the house, and he can be really stubborn, and I can be really bitchy, but I’m lucky to have someone who supports my ideas, and encourages my dreams and gets my jokes, and even better, helps with the dishes and the laundry, and is RIGHT NOW out buying groceries.
And maybe this post would’ve been better for Thanksgiving, but as the year draws to a close, I’m struck by the thought that luck is what we make it, and that in a world where there’s far too much strife, it’s a good thing to take a moment and count up all the good things we have.
Good friends, good family, good dogs, good home.
Good luck to us all.
Sick with a major cold that has settled in my ears and throat now, I spent yesterday curled up in bed with dogs and tea, alternately napping and surfing the web from my trusty laptop. At times, I flipped the television on, but it was a “500 channels and nothing to watch” sort of day, and anyway, there was entertainment provided free by Mother Nature herself.
Wednesday had been a grey day, but in the soft, innocent sort of way that basically makes you feel as if the entire world is wrapped in pale greyish-lavender candy-floss. Yesterday was aggressively grey, and the rain showed up accompanied by a symphony of wind, thunder, and lightning, as well as its own sound – the slick staccato of drops falling on the deck, on the glass table, different pitches melding together, or the soft hiss of the water landing in the pool, sounding for all the world like a simmering cauldron.
And the lightning, oh, the lightning.
I love lightning, and one of the things I love about living where I do is that we get amazing, tremendous lightning storms. Yesterday was not disappointing. I remember crossing the living room, lit by only the Christmas tree and the bannister lights (which will remain until Epiphany), and turning my head to see long fingers of Dracula lightning arcing across the sky, not once, but three times in succession.
Another time, I’d have been awe-struck, and stopped just to watch, but yesterday I laughed. We have a wreath on the front door that has a motion detector. When someone stands in front of it, it begins to dance and sing “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” and, like something from a horror movie where a child’s toy plays innocently just before the axe murderer comes, each flash of lightning was triggering the wreath.
The dogs did not like any of this.
And my head and throat were achey, still are achey, so I returned to bed, and cuddled them, soothing Cleo so that she stopped barking at the thunder. She finally burrowed under the covers where she was mostly oblivious to the lightning, at least.
And I?
I turned out the lights, lit candles, and watched the flashes of light in the sky until sleep claimed me again.