Doxie Proxy

Same

I’ve just come back from several days with family in another state. The “hearthstone” of my life, I suppose you could call it. Someone I love is ill. She’s been sick off and on for a long time, and it’s exacerbated some traits I hadn’t really given much thought to before.

I started to write about all she’s done for me, but suffice it to say she’s been there for me, a lot. My grown-up self can now look back and say I’ve been there for her a lot, too, and as of this week, we’re even. Maybe forever.

My mother hugged her and cried, asking forgiveness for something every single one of us agree she should have and HAD to do, and this particular relative didn’t so much as twitch. My mother. Cried. And this… God, how I pause at this point. Do I say angry? Bitter? Hateful? When at the same time, my heart tells me she’s a loving person, and I know this because her life has been about helping wounded people. Nonetheless, she didn’t acknowledge how much pain my mother was in, and how she was practically begging for forgiveness over this imagined sin, and that, to coin a Southern phrase, just FLEW ALL OVER ME. (I don’t care where the phrase originated from; the South’s where I grew up hearing it.)

My mom stepped out of the room and I let loose with both barrels. God, I was so furious that I was shaking, and I could feel the flushing starting on my chest and going all the way up to my temples. I blasted her with this great righteous indignation, full of thunder that my beloved mom had been hurt.

I spent the night tossing and turning. At 3am I was looking at the clock, saying “God, what did I do? What did I do? How could I say that?” I haven’t seen her since, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. A big part of me says that I’m done, completely. She’s been hateful and horrible and bitter and beyond the most nightmarish of people that you could ever want to be around, and right now I feel like a gigantic ass, because I could have been more compassionate. Damn it. I could never, ever hate her, and will always love her, but right now.. I don’t think we like each other very much.

(Note to self: No, really, jackass?)

There’s no contest between my mother and any other female in this world. None. I love her with every fiber of my being, and will do everything I can to protect her from harm. I am so blessed. So very blessed.

It will probably not last long, but there is a tiny spark of hope within me.

I am 5 days late.

Please, God. Please.

Tags: family, vacation

Migraine

I remember three things about February 1st (2 weeks ago): I ate a bunch of almonds, had a minor coughing fit (not at the same time), and later developed a severe headache. I took a few ibuprofen and went about my business. The next day, the headache was still there, and I grumbled, but continued to take NSAIDS. I even told my co-workers that I had this aggravating headache that was hanging on. The next day, the headache was still there, and it seemed worse. It was focused on the left side of my forehead, right on the eyebrow. A couple of times, I even thought I saw sparkles out of the corner of my right eye. I took off work about 2 hours early, went home and took a mild muscle relaxant, and went to bed. This was at 3pm. I slept for 10 hours straight, and woke at 1am. I didn’t feel entirely better, but thought the headache had eased some, and figured I felt poor because I’d slept hard.

I stayed up for a few hours, then headed to work at 3:30. Yes, 3:30 in the morning. Where I work, we have very flexible schedules, and several folks come in at 4am, so I wasn’t bucking tradition by getting there at 3:45. Hey, what else what there to do? Anyway, I went in to work, stayed 10 hours (making up 2 from the day prior) and went home. The headache was still there, but I still (stupidly) thought I’d slept wrong, or something. I’m a horrible patient, and you’d think, with my career field, that I’d know better, but…meh.

Day 4. Continue to feel like crap, and take NSAIDS.

Day 5. At this point, it finally occurs to me that I should seek outside medical advice. I called my doc’s office, and, because I’m a complete idiot at times, said that of course I’d be glad to wait until the next day. Why no, I don’t need an appointment that same day! The headache is still going strong, and the “sparkles” are more frequent. Enter intermittent nausea, stage right.

Day 6. Doctor’s appointment. My blood pressure is high (insert obvious comment), and the doc is reluctant to give me migraine medication for this reason. Doc gives me an Rx for darvocet, tells me to take an extra one of my other prescriptions, and to come back in the morning to have my BP checked. I pick up my script of dcn and head home. By this time, the headache is worsening, and I swear I’m feeling numbness in my hands and around my lips. The pain is so bad in my left forehead and eye that I’m squinting. I grab an ice pack, pop 2 pain pills, and hit the sack.

4 hours later, I’m in agony, because, unbelievably to me, the pain is even worse. It feels like a tiny mountain climber is traipsing up and down the left side of my face, steadily digging in a pickaxe at intervals. I can’t take another pain pill for 2 hours, and the two I’ve taken have done nothing. Nothing. I’m worried.

Day 7. I am at the doc’s office when they open the doors, and I am in incredible pain. They take me to a dark room, and I huddle. God, it hurts. Oddly enough, I don’t have too much light sensitivity, but I tell the doc about the sparkles, which have now become a full-fledged video game playing at intervals in my right eye. Huge pink, blue, yellow and red fireworks, replete with jagged lines and police-car like alternating flashes. It happens whenever I change position suddenly, so I learn to sit up or lie down slowly. Doc says I’m having a migraine with aura, and gives me a sample (2) of Treximet and (2) Maxalt (10mg dissolving tabs). I am damn near bleating at this point, because I swear to God that hell has made a new home inside my head, and it is going to pop right off my shoulders and roll down the hall, and the darvocet meds may as well have been cardboard. Doc prescribes Tylenol w/ codeine. I call in to work and go straight home, grab an icepack, take a T#3 (already took a Trex) and hit the couch. At this point, there are no lights or sounds on in the house, and the sound of myself breathing is too damned loud. 2 hours pass. I take the 2nd and final Treximet. 2 hours pass. Still in pain 2 hours pass. I take 2 T#3. I later feel numbed and sleepy. Drugged, but with no pain relief. I’m almost in tears at this point, because normally meds like this put me on my arse, but these aren’t doing anything. The nausea is awful, and I’m terrified I’ll hurk up the meds, scared to eat because I don’t want that to make me hurk, but scared not to eat because that might contribute to the headache. I am utterly miserable.

Day 8. I go to work and last 4 hours. Management, God bless them, suggests that I take work home, so that i can do it in a quiet, darker environment if I feel like it, and may not have to use leave time. I feel to terrible that I sit in the car for 20 minutes before I feel OK to drive home. I go home, grab an icepack and 2 pain pills, and lay on the couch. I took the 1st Maxalt that morning and the 2nd 2 hours later. I was not given an Rx for migraine meds. I think we both thought it would be gone by now. The rest of the day is miserable. I call the doc’s office, and realize they closed at midday. I rationalize that I’m not giving the meds time to work, and go to bed.

Day 9. I call the doc’s office, and leave a message. I’m hurting very, very much. I’m frantic at this point. I try to get some work done, but everything gets worse, and I drive myself to the ER. I haven’t been to an ER in years for something like this. Thank God, the wait is only about an hour, and they let me lay down in a dark exam room. I’m rocking and praying, and trying not to lose my breakfast. I’ve got the pillow over my head, because I feel like I have to keep my brain from exploding out of my skull. The doc comes in, asks me what I usually do for migraines, and is surprised when I tell him this is the 1st one I’ve ever had. I have explained everything I’ve done thus far. He whips out his trusty penlight, and does the necessary examination of my pupils. This incredibly bright light in this very dark room is horrible beyond words, and I shrieked. The very caring doc steps out of the room (I saw him for 60 seconds), and I’m left trying not to lose everything I’ve eaten between now and last Thanksgiving. A moment later, I go for a non-contrast head CT. It takes just a moment, and I’m back in the room. 10 minutes later, a nurse comes in with a shot of Demerol and Phenergan. I roll over and the olympic champion javelin tosser-cum-nurse gives me the injection. (Now, I know that it was the needle that hurt, not the nurse, and he was only doing his job. However, it’s now almost a week later, and my arse still hurts. So, I’m going to kvetch, OK?)

20 minutes later (I swear - I watched the clock), another nurse comes in with my discharge instructions. I’m a little drowsy, but my head is still killing me. She says the CT was negative. I tell the nurse I would have liked to talk to the doctor about what’s caused this, and what I can do to stop it, or keep it from happening again, and that I didn’t just come for a shot, and I’m still hurting very much, and I really appreciate everything they’ve done to help me, but I’m feeling lost right now, and I don’t know what to do. Yes, as a patient, you need to be your own advocate, but patient education is sorely lacking, and I would have liked to have had some sort of contact beyond the entire single minute with the doc. She says “OK”, and that she’ll go talk to the doc. In my head (pun), I’m thinking that maybe I should stay a little longer, and that I can talk with the doc. What I apparently insinuated, however, was that I wanted more drugs. She came back with a Fiorinal. I accepted defeat at this point, took the pill, and left the ER.

I happened to have an appointment with another specialist (not r/t the headache; a routine checkup), who is a great guy whom I’ve both worked with and been a patient of. I trust him with my life, and have, literally, for 10 years. I explain what I’ve been going through, and he prescribes a different pain med (we agree that the other 2 meds are like candy/cardboard at this point), some Maxalt, and something else I can’t think of right now. My checkup is fine, I get my scripts, fill them, and go home.

By this time, the ER shot is really kicking in, so I go to bed. The headache has eased - maybe - 25%. Maybe.

Day 10. The new pain med and Maxalt aren’t helping at all. The headache rages on, the aura is terrible, and numbness is still there, and the nausea remains. I fall asleep with a bag of ice on my forehead, and damn near give myself frostbite. (Not literally, I’m sure, but I do have a numb spot on my eyebrow. Yikes.) I want to give the new meds at least a day or two to work, so I suffer though this day. Either today or yesterday, I got another Rx for an antibiotic from my main doc, in case it is a sinus infection. (Also, they try to get me a neuro consult.) It feels like a sinus headache at times, because the headache alternates between a stabbing pain over my left eyebrown (icepick), a band of pressure around my head, over my ears, and the clawing-down-my-face pain from my left eyebrow down to the left corner of my lip. I’ll try almost anything at this point, and I have good docs.

Day 11-12 Same. Pain. More pain.

Day 13. A friend suggests OTC Claritin. I can’t take anything w/ epedrine, etc. in it (e.g. sudafed), but I don’t know about Claritin. As a rule, I usually don’t take anything my specialist doesn’t OK, even if prescribed by another doc. Not that I don’t trust the other docs, I mean, but I want to be sure that everyone is on the same page with my healthcare. I make sure both docs have copies of tests the other one does, and that both are up to date on what I’m taking, or have been prescribed.  Anyway - Claritin. I’m feeling reckless, and am so sick of hurting, and feeling stoned (or how I imagine feeling stoned would feel), so I pick up some Claritin.

3 hours later, the headache eases, for the first time in TWO weeks. It’s not gone, by any means, but it’s tolerable, and I’m so friggin’ happy that I could cry. I sleep better than I have this entire month.

Day 14 - Today. The pain is tolerable, around a 5 on a 1-10 scale, and I treat myself to a haircut, and even do a little shopping. I am joyous! I am human again! The aura is still intermittent, but the nausea is gone. My hands are a little numb, but better. 7pm - the pain comes back very hard and very fast. I even felt well enough to go see a movie with Mister, and completely forgot about taking any medication. Everything had worn off, and the headache felt like being kicked in the head, literally and repeatedly. I took a Claritin and a pain pill, and went to bed. It’s now 4AM, I’m up, and it’s back to around a 6 on a 1-10 scale. Maybe it’s the antibiotics. Maybe it’s the Claritin. Maybe it’s a migraine that has just finally run the course.

I don’t know. I’ve not read of migraines lasting this long, but I don’t know what’s been going on with my head. Hopefully the neuro consult with come through soon. For right now, I’m OK. I don’t ever want to hurt like this again, and I can see why some people do anything not to feel this kind of pain.

It just plain sucks.

Tags: migraine

Soul-Search, Aisle 1

I learned a lot about myself today. Or rather, I recognized a lot about myself today. I took the True Colors course, and discovered that I’m a green, with a little gold thrown in for flavor.  It was creepy to recognize so many characteristics of my personality, but it put into words some things I’ve always felt, but never really understood about myself. What is boils down to is that intellect is my personal yardstick, and how I measure my worth as a person. I need to constantly learn more, know more, understand more than I did before, and it drives me crazy to feel unknowledgeable about a subject. (With that said, I must feel insane most of the time, eh?) I need my kudos (atta-girls, as my husband calls them), and a structured, accountable environment generally makes me a happy (green) camper. Being brutally honest here, I generally look down on others who skirt or completely disregard set rules and regulations (although I am sure I have a blind spot the size of Houston when it comes to my transgressions), and incompetence frustrates me completely. I am definitely not as under-emotional (not a word, I know) as the trainer indicated greens are, but I definitely don’t like it when my emotions control me, and I hate having mixed emotions about something. I hate feeling bittersweet about something, or angry/amused, or anything where it’s not a flat-out regular feeling. Thinking about it now, this must get to me a lot, because how often do we feel one pure emotion at a time? I’m horribly, horribly impatient about many things, although I dearly love to teach, and am willing to go at whatever pace whomever I’m teaching needs to move at.

On the other hand, God forbid someone tell me a story and let it draaaaaaag out. Oh, and if they get to a part that is obvious (e.g., where I’ll try like heck to speed it along by stating the obvious, like “And then you realized you’d forgotten your keys, so you went back in the house, AND?”), then repeat exactly WTH I just said (”Yes! I looked around and realized I didn’t know where my keys were, so I turned back to the house, went up the stairs, and walked in my door….”) - Oh….Oh, God, how that annoys me to no end. In fact, I hate it with a green and purple passion. I want to scream “Oh, FFS! GET TO THE POINT!” You see, I’m a wretch. If you are saying something pretty interesting, it kills me not to get to the good part, because I am dying to know what happened! I don’t consider the storyteller a bad or uninteresting person, I’m just….eager. Egads. Eager in a pathetic, rude, vile way. I’m a bad person. Sigh.

What else? Oh, yes, the school part. Apparently greens were constantly challenging authority as young ones in class. Yar (as Jamal would say), there be the ticket. I wasn’t a smartalec, and I followed the rules, however I asked “Why?” or “Why Not?’ as often as I could. I wanted to know everything, and if you couldn’t give me a decent explanation (or what I considered decent, in my puerile mind), then I had little use for you, and what you could teach me. God, I must have been a pain in the behind. I hereby apologize completely, on bended knee with bowed head, to every and any teacher who had to put up with my terrible challeneges to their knowledge and/or authority. These days, I think teachers should make, oh, at least $250k/year, because of all the crap they put up with, and I’m here to tell you that I was, er, part of that crap.

With no way to segue into this next bit, here ’tis, and let me state that this rant is due to repeated instances of this, and is no way me being pissy because of one isolated incident.

A dear friend of mine hurt my feelings today. (Yes, I know. This is antithetical to the green way of life.) My father is retired from one branch of the military. He served in Vietnam, and for my entire life, he has been the most honorable, wonderful man I’ve ever known. I was raised to show respect to all who give their time, effort and skills to support and defend the US. It didn’t matter what branch of the military you were in, or if you were with the Coast Guard, National Guard, or a reservist. It just didn’t matter. Even if a man or woman never sees one moment of combat, or is never put in harm’s way, the fact is that they could be, and that they’ve agreed to stand between us and the bad guys when the time comes. This is what matters. When you voluntarily choose to be my country’s defender, you are a hero in my book. I was raised this way, by my Dad. My awesome, amazing Dad.

My dear friend has a son who went into boot camp a few years ago, and it was during this period that I met my friend. From the moment we met, she’s been gung-ho (Har! Pun! See?) about the service branch her son joined, and it’s been several years of non-stop gushing about how the soldiers in that branch are better, faster, stron…. wait. Sorry, tangent. It’s been non-stop gushing about how that branch apparently has the best of the best, and no others can compare. There were repeated snide jokes about how other branches of the military had puny basic training compared to his branch, and how other branches were weaker, less intelligent, and essentially brain-washed, and anyone could do their jobs. I’ve listened to this for years. YEARS. For the record, I am SICK of hearing about the demi-gods of his branch. I’m sick of the rude jokes, and putdowns, and the complete lack of respect for every other soldier out there who happens to wear a uniform different from what her son dons.

He’s a youngster, basically, with less than a handful of years in his role, and though he’s been off native soil, he’s never been put in actual, immediate danger. He’s not now, nor has he ever, been to Iraq or Iran. (Thank God.) Compared to the sacrifices made by countless other older, more experienced soldiers, he’s a pup. He’s young, and cocky, and today, he said some hurtful, hateful things about the branch my father retired from. It started out with “Now, it may be different now, than it was then, but……”

Don’t backtrack. Don’t give me a disclaimer. Don’t pretend that you aren’t acting like a rude, disrespectful punk, when I know you were raised to be better than that. Don’t sit there and crap all over the sacrifice and heroism of every other soldier, everywhere. You are a kid, and while I can certainly understand your pride and youthful exhuberance for what you do, and how well you do it….enough is enough. Do not act as less than the intelligent, strong, competent young man that you are by disregarding those who have been soldiers before you, or at your side. I don’t care where you serve, or what shape the shiny buttons on your uniform are. I don’t care about anything other than that you stand between us and the bad guys.

At least, I used to. Today, I lost respect for you. I lost respect for a soldier, and that makes me sad.

Tags: rants, True Colors

Laughter

It’s been a long, long time since I laughed til I couldn’t breathe, but while watching  Paul Blart: Mall Cop, I did just that. As my dear friend K. would say, it was Hi-LAR-ious! Kevin James has the most versatile face, and the expressions he makes are hysterical. It was a cute, feel-good movie, and I walked away smiling and entertained. Mister and I don’t expect every film to educate us about life, or be an academy award winner; we just want to be entertained. We were, and that’s what matters to me.

We wanted to go see something that would take our minds off the present dilemma:

Abigail has relapsed again, we think. Her back legs are becoming wobbly, for lack of a more sophisticated term. Upping her dosage has usually corrected the problem fairly quickly, and we’re then able to taper her back down. The vet, while I don’t want to say he insisted, felt strongly that she needed to see the surgeon again, and probably have another myelogram. I was really against this, for a variety of reasons to be detailed later, but in the end, I know that I’m not the one with the knowledge and experience regarding my beloved dog’s illness, and I went with what he suggested.

She had her myelogram this morning, and it was clean. Normal. Fine, as in the CSF looks clear, and her spine is fine. So.. I just put my poor dog through a painful and invasive procedure for nothing. OK, not for nothing - at least now we know that her symptoms are related either to her illness or the treatment. But… still. I’m up at 0432 in the freaking morning because they wanted to keep her overnight for observation after the test, and I can’t stand the thought that she’s not here with me, in the bed, snuggled up beside me. I’ve damn near dehydrated myself with bouts of tears, and I would give much just to be there with her, or to have her here with me. Yes, I know the reality and facts of the situation. Yes, I know I’m being an emotional, rambling, irritating family member. I just can’t stop worrying that she’s not sleeping, because I forgot to bring a blanket or something that smells like home, and are they checking on her frequently enough, or is she hurting, and my God, I’ve got to stop this, because here we go again with the tears.

The surgery center she’s at is clean and professional, and the people there have never, ever been anything but kind. I know this. My rational half knows this.

Please just let the time pass. I can pick her up in 4 hours, and bring my sweet baby home - after I pay the $1200 for the test, the CSF send-off, the consult and the overnight fee. TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS! And she went through needles and dye! In her spine! So we could see that it’s completely unchanged from the one she had 1 year ago!

Ranting again…must stop.

I know, emotionally, intellectually, and professionally, that a test or procedure with a negative finding can have just as much diagnostic importance as one with a positive finding. I know that the outcome of this test - the fact that she has no spinal issues - is important to know at this time, in that it affects her treatment regime. If it was a spine issue, then the GME meds would change, and visa versa. I know this. Her ataxia could be due to prolonged steroid treatment, as this can cause relaxation of the tendons/ligaments. At least, I think that’s what can happen. I’m tired and upset, and am running on fumes at the moment. I’ll verify my thinking later. Verify…clarify. Something like that.

I just want her home. It feels like a part of me is missing. How cliche. How true.

Praying, and counting the minutes. A post entitled “Laughter” that is mainly about sadness. Sheesh!

Tags: Abigail, GME, movies

Long month

Well…

We’re no happier w/ Pres. Hussein, but I’ll grin and bear it, and keep aside my beloved bumper sticker for the day I can stick it on my car. It says “Don’t whine to me - YOU voted for him.”

A friend at work pointed out that no, she wouldn’t have voted for a white man named Hussein. I thanked her for her honesty, but then pointed out that his Muslim history is such a tiny part of it, and is pretty much insignificant for me. I just call him/it Pres. Hussein because, well, I’m a petty wretch, and it makes me feel a little less nauseated when I hear his name. I don’t like him, I think it was a wretched mistake to put him in office, but if he can make the country safer and more stable, then go for it, Sparky. Bitter? Yeah, I am. Grumpy? Yes, that too. Honestly weary of our current times, and wary of the ever-touted CHANGE! his campaign spouted incessantly? That would be me. Hopeful…now that’s me, too.

WoW’s latest expansion was released, and we’ve been fiending every chance we get. Thus far, my lock is 75, and the DK is 61. Woo and Hoo. Why yes, I’m a gamer.

Reading the latest Richelle Mead. Very interesting book. She rocks!

Tags: books, gaming, rants

Disheartened.

Democratic President.

Democratic House.

Democratic Senate.

Way to go. Thanks for the checks-and-balances, eh?

Amazing turnout we had this year. Can’t imagine why. Whilst standing in line for a mere 4 hours this morning, it did my heart good to hear the oh-so-educated and well-spoken person in front of me tout “I’m gon’ go straight Democrat. Dunno who else’s runnin’ but Obama, and I don’ give a sh**!” Pathetically ignorant and smelling of stale smoke and poor hygiene, the idiot was an affront to every thought I had. For pete’s sake! It’s not enough to just vote! You need to make informed choices! I don’t care what party you affiliate with, or if you do a straight-up write in ticket. Just have a freaking clue about who (what) you’re putting in charge, you twerp! Gah!

Where’s Colin Powell when I need him? or Ron Paul? Mitt Romney?

Alright, grumbling session over.  On to searching for a good lamb recipe!

Barry (is not) the antiChrist vs. Satchel Pooch

The only good thing about Barry winning would be the I-Told-You-So’s that would be handed out left and right in a couple of years, after he screws us all up royally.

http://www.wnd.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=59169

This site is hilarious -> http://www.barackobamaantichrist.blogspot.com/

(No, I don’t think he’s the antiChrist. Really, I don’t. I think he’s charismatic, brilliant, attractive, well-spoken, educated, deceitful, and withholding, and his wife is horse-faced, and that he’s the greater evil betwixt him and McCain [whom I'm not overly fond of, but I've only 2 choices], but I don’t think he’s the antiChrist.)

On a happier note, I am craving this mini tea cake pan from Crate and Barrel. How adorable is that?

It’s even on sale! (for now) There’s also this 4-Piece Cupcake Muffin Set (also from C&B), and this Cold Bowl on Ice server (yes, it’s really called that), from Chef’s Resource. Nifty!

On a side note, mercy, but I want one of these. It’s not like I don’t have zillion (OK, maybe eight) lunch boxes already. Mister, bless his heart, just grins and rolls his eyes. He understands my addiction. In the words of my beloved Satchel Pooch, “I’m not ashamed of my love.”

Food pr0n.

Oh. My. God, Betsy.

Pumpkin Spice Cream Cheese Spread

I am physical pain right now, because I want to make this - Right. Now. I’ll have to be satisfied with making it Saturday morning. Pics may follow, but I am quite the lowly, amateur photographer-type wannabe, and haven’t gotten the hang of snapping good photos of food.

Today was, well, sufficient. I went to work, had a decent day, came home, did a bit of cleaning, made supper (hah!), and sat down with my beloved Mister to watch last night’s episode of the Sarah Connor Chronicles.

Yes. Sufficient, indeed.

(Pardon me while I go shut the back door. It would seem, no matter how nice of a neighborhood one resides in, that there will always be the unmentionables who can’t touch the gas pedal without the thudding, ridiculous boom of music that no one else wishes to hear. My kingdom for a intelligence tax. [which I would go broke paying, as well.])

Wordpress

Good grief. It’s been a long, long time since I did any website upkeep, much less coding anything, and boy, am I in over my head. A friend raves about Wordpress, so I’m checking it out.

Three weeks until vacation. In a word - woot!

It’s hotter than hades these days. I hate humidity with a green and purple passion. I don’t know what possessed me to live in this part of the country. The heat is palpable, like a great weight that bears down on your entire body whenever you step outside. A friend from Denver visited several years ago, and we picked him up at the airport very early in the morning, when the temperature was relatively comfortable. The first time he went outside was around 1pm the next afternoon, and he opened the door and shrieked “Oh my GOD! How do you live in this? It’s like being slapped by hell itself!”

I laughed and told him he’d get used to it. The more I think back on it, I think I’m getting less and less used to it, and I’ve been living in it for nearly three decades.  It’s just miserable, and I can’t wait for it to be over. I could skip mid-June through mid-September and be quite happy.

Funnily enough, I could also skip mid-November through mid-January and be quite happy, as well. Christmas is my least favorite holiday, and not because I’m anti-faith, by any means. I hate that it’s become this completely commercial holiday. I hate the toy commercials, and that newscasters say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”, and companies throw holiday parties instead of Christmas parties. I hate that everyone has to be so freaking politically correct, when who really cares? It’s perfectly fine that not everyone celebrates Christmas. If someone doesn’t believe in the holiday, then by all means don’t celebrate it. The beauty of this country is that we’re free to do as we please, and believe as we please. I’m not so arrogant as to think that anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas is wrong. It’s not wrong at all - it’s just different. So, by all means, go to work, don’t buy gifts, and don’t accept them. Don’t decorate. Don’t do the whole manic family thing that so many others do (some of us, quite unwillingly). But on the other hand, don’t get pissy when someone else expresses the wish for me to have a “MERRY CHRISTMAS”. 

Tags: Christmas, humidity, rants, wordpress

Rant

To the flaming cow/hyena hybrid who sat 2 rows behind us in the theater tonight, thank you. Thank you for ruining what was an entertaining movie with your horrifically bad laughter, which manages to combine barking and whinnying all at the same time. Thank you for being such a pain in the rear that you had to snort and repeat every. freaking. line that you thought was hysterical (and there were many). Thank you for commenting to yourself, and often. It’s so important to keep in touch with our inner child, isn’t it? Thank you for not calming your banshee screeching even after being asked, very politely I might add, TWICE by the lady sitting behind us. You irritated the bejeezus out of me, and I sincerely hope I am never cursed with your presence in a theater ever, ever again. Lastly, thank you for the incredibly satisfying feeling it gave me when I turned to you and told you to shut UP.

Grrr.

Now for some positive stuff. Balance, dear. Balance.

1. I work with amazing people. I’m very grateful to have a job, and I essentially enjoy the type of work I do. There are management issues, and communication issues, but that will all be settled soon enough. I have a job. Nuff said.

2. I’m going to my parent’s home this lovely three-day weekend, and as an added bonus my grandmother is there to visit, so I’ll be able to spend some nice time with her. We lost PaPaw 2 days before Thanksgiving, and I’m more aware of my limited time with her now more than ever.

3. At the aforementioned parent’s home is their new Yorkie puppy. He’s less than 2 pounds! I can’t wait to meet the little demon (as Mom calls him).

4. No panic attacks, no anxiety, and no reflux-pain-but-feels-like-a-heart-attack pain in over a month. Thank you, R. You’re a great doc, and talking to you did more good than anything.

5. Wonderful, wonderful husband. 11 years, and I love him more, if that’s possible.

6. The pooch is doing great. We’re reducing the cyclosporine and prednisone little by little every 2 months, and she’s just fantastic. I’m amazed at how much better she acts. She was so very sick before. *shudder* I don’t want her to have to go through that ever again. I dont’ know what the future holds, because she was having seizures with the GME, which indicates a brain lesion, but she’s been 100% for over 6 months. 7, actually. Keeping my fingers crossed, and praying. She’s my sweet baby. =)

7. Discovered Bathed & Infused last month. The Rock Goddess scent is the best thing I’ve smelled. I love it! Flirt is a very close second! Their scrub bars rock, too - especially at this price!

8. The new Laurell K. Hamilton book (Blood Noir) comes out in one week. I am Jazzed.

Tags: rants