Doxie Proxy

Lost.

Mister is ill - 3 days gone with bronchitis and a wretched cough, poor thing. He’s slept precious little and aches all over. Sleeping with him and the dog is an exercise in patient compassion. He coughs, wakes up, rolls over, groans because he aches, the dog is displaced from his snuggle spot amongst Mister’s legs (under the covers), the dog then rolls over and groans because he’s arthritic. So…it goes something like this:

Mister: *hack*

Mister: *wriggle* *moan* *rolls over* *groans* *hack* *cough*

Taz: *smacking noise* *wriggle* *wrigglewriggle* *flop* *groan*

Bless their hearts. That’s about all I can say, because my man, he is sick, and not just with the man-flu. (OK, I admit it. In his words, as well as mine, he feels like ass. In fact, yesterday he was sitting down, looking like he felt just horrid, and I looked over and said “Ass?” He replied “Yeah.”

Now see, for us, that’s funny as heck. An entire conversation in just two words, and nothing more needed to be said. My poor darling. I hate that he feels, well…. like ass.

The Book of Eli turned out nicely. I do enjoy Denzel Washington. The man can act, and he’s handsome, to boot. Why can’t he run for president? Oh, wait.. because he doesn’t have decent political experience, and he’s a good actor? Well heck! Apparently that’s all you need to get elected these days. Bleargh. Whatever. I joined a FB group along with lines of “I hate it when I get up in the m0rning and 0bama is president.” Again with the bleargh.

Argh. I would love to go see Legion, but must save money. Phooey. Will do next week.

Started back on the hand-written journal a few nights ago. (Dear God, I actually just wrote “a few night’s ago” - WTH is wrong with me?) I have always adored writing somewhat like the journal reads in that Bridget Jones movie. Y’know, all “am v. displeased with weight. Hair vile today. Must have this bushy shag snipped soonest.”

No, seriously…I tend to be more real, I suppose. I don’t know why. There’s a much bigger chance of someone finding my actual journal than this site, and no, it’s not because I’m a complete dolt and think all this is OMG private; it’s because Mister couldn’t be arsed to look for it, and that’s not a bad thing. I don’t say anything in either one that I wouldn’t say to him, so…meh.

Taz is snuggled beside me, curled up in a white blanket older than I am. Abigai1’s on her bed, snuggled up in a pink blanket, again, older than I am. What is up with my natty blankets? Ah well, they’re in good shape, and they belong to the dogs.

God, I’ve written about nothing, haven’t I? Blathered on incessantly about essentially random stuff, which I hate to read, but apparently tend to write.

Mom’s out of the hospital - thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Please keep her safe.

Dad’s feeling much better - thank you again, God. Thanks so much, because he felt truly wretched for several days, and is only now able to eat with some semblance of normalcy. Poor thing. =(

My aunt’s doing well in rehab. She broke her hip, and I still can’t believe it. Please be with her, Lord. I do love her dearly.

My other grandmother seems to be doing well with her hip replacement. I’m not close to her (and it’s her own doing), but I am glad she’s not in any pain.

Lord, please be with all those folks in Haiti. I know folks say there’s a purpose for everything, but I sure don’t understand what it is for that awful, awful tragedy.

Time for Mister’s cough syrup. (Thank you, codeine!)

Night!

Tags: movies

Gratitude is the fairest blossom…

..which springs from the soul. - Henry Ward Beecher

It’s been a long month. More of the same, essentially, but I need to list my blessings if for no other reason than to remind myself of them.

Thank you, God, for my blessings.

• My parents. They are wonderful beyond words, and I am wholly and thoroughly blessed by having them in my life.
• My husband. His faults are few. His strengths are innumerable. How I love this precious, precious man.
• My animals. I love my two little dogs and my sweet, fat cat more than I can say. They’ve brought so much to my life.
• My mind. Thank you for blessing me with a quick wit and the ability to add without using my fingers.
• My job. Thank you for blessing me with the ability to work with wonderful people performing work that can be challenging, and that pushes me to learn new things every day.
• My car, because it gets me where I need to go, and allows me to see my family more often.
• My health insurance. I can’t imagine how I could make it, even a few months, without it.
• My faith. In this day and age, when so many think it is open season on anyone with a smidgen of belief, I am grateful that mine is not shaken. I love you, Lord, and I thank you for being in my life.

===

The problem has reared its monstrous head, once again, and I fear…no, I know, that I can’t keep it at bay this time. It’s time to pay the piper, and he’s apparently very proud of his wares. I don’t know that I can afford this, and I really do mean that. I’m scared. I’m not suicida1, by any means, but I wish I could lay down and sleep for five years, then wake to face the future, because surely the bad stuff would already be over.

I spent an afternoon at an auction. My parents, my grandmother and I had a good time, and I snagged a nice laptop case, replete with wheels (vroom!), and a ridiculously cute pair of kiddie umbrellas for two young cuties I know and ?.

I think I must head back home tomorrow. I’m glad we got to spend the holiday with my family (Mister had to head back early), but I miss the feeling of home. Being at home is like…proprioception. When I’m there, my heart knows I’m where I’m supposed to be, and it feels right. My life moves and flows in relation to the outside world, but I go forward from my origin; my home.

My sweet Abigail is relapsing again, and this time it’s worse. No seizures, but her hind legs are going, and I worry that soon, there will be no further remission. I don’t know what to do. Is this the beginning of her end? I can’t imagine my life without this precious creature. Please, God. Tell me what to do.

Tell me how I can fix her. Tell me how I can fix me.

Tags: Abigail, blessings, blues, dogs, family, holidays, pets, thanks

Better

Life is better today, although I physically feel like crud. I’ve got the sniffling, snorting, sneezing, coughing, hacking wheezing so-you-want-to-throw-up illness. Similar to Nyquil, but less fun.

I have this heavy feeling throughout my whole upper body, and my head feels so freakin’ heavy. I just want to go to bed. God, I’m just exhausted.

Going to hit the sack again.

Smooches,

Me.