“There is an uncertain territory
between night and day.
It is neither light nor shadow:
it is time.” ~ Octavio Paz, from “Cantata”
Tuesday afternoon. Partly cloudy, mid 50’s.
I’m going to attempt to do a real post today, but I make no promises. I didn’t sleep well last night because of the ongoing breathing issues, and when I did sleep, it was fitful. I had the fighter pilot dream again in which I was one of only two women in a squadron filled with males who did not believe that women should fly jets. My friend Jammi was also in a different section of the dream. I was giving directions from downtown Norfolk, and it was a route that I have taken several times in my dreams. Then there was the murder under the guise of an opera on a rooftop, and the animals that were encased in clear coffins, but they were still alive.
All in all, not the best night for resting.
I went to the doctor today; she’s prescribed an antibiotic, prednizone and a cough medicine. I also have to have a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. Which leads me to this question: Why can I not have a cold like a regular person? Why does my body go from zero to full-blown lung spasms? Why?
Yep. I have no answers either. Corey and I had planned our mini vacation for next week sometime. Now we’ll just have to see if my body cooperates. Nothing is worse than being sick while on vacation.
Before I forget, I wanted to pass along my thanks to those of you who sent me notes and cards after my dog Shakes died. It meant so much, and you are a great group of people out there in the ether.
I realize that my recent posts haven’t been exactly crackling with wit or wisdom. It’s hard to accomplish much of anything when you are already feeling quite low from yet another loss, and then maladies take hold. I did manage to consume several books over the past weekend, and I’m seriously contemplating shelving the rest of this post until tomorrow, surrendering to the inevitable, and crawling back into bed with another book. In fact, that sounds rather more pleasant than continuing with this.
“Nothing is plumb, level or square:
the studs are bowed, the joists
are shaky by nature” ~ Alan Dugan, from “Love Song: I and Thou”
Saturday afternoon. Sunny and mild, high 50’s.
So obviously, I did not get back to the post in any kind of timely fashion. I felt better and then . . . I didn’t. That always happens. I start to feel better, and then I overdo it, and then I feel bad again. Today I have jelly legs, as in when I walk, I feel as if my legs are made of jello and cannot support my weight. It’s delightful, I tell you, absolutely delightful.
Other than reading voraciously, I have not accomplished a lot in the past week. I mean, I did clean out the mail basket, sort bills that won’t get paid, and get together stuff to shred, which sounds like way too much work for mail, but hey, I’m nothing if not thorough.
My friend Leah in NC suggested that I just start to request delivery of the antibiotics as soon as Thanksgiving is over, and I think that she’s right. Anyway, it turns out, I do have pneumonia, not just bronchitis, and would it help you to sense my actual mental state if I told you that it just took me three tries to spell Thanksgiving, and two tries to spell bronchitis?
Yep. Jelly legs and now fingers, too, it seems.
“The only escape, I think, is to work the mind.” ~ Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry dated 11 March 1930
I was just sitting here wondering why I feel so cold (aside from the fact that Corey goes outside and leaves the back door open because I just love giving extra money to the power company to heat the yard) when I realized that I’m wearing only a nightgown and no socks, so yoga pants, sweatshirt and Christmas socks later, much better.
I’m trying to stay hydrated and nourished, but I go between bouts of extreme nausea to extreme hunger. Corey made me the most wonderful stew using the leftover turkey from Thanksgiving. It was a hug pot of comfort food. Did I mention how much I missed being spoiled by him when he was gone? If I didn’t, well I did.
I’m trying not to think about my abandoned NaNoWriMo project too much. I mean, I actually started two stories, and while I did not get very far, it’s the most I’ve done in plot development in ages and ages. I’m holding on to what I’ve done so far, and maybe after the holidays I can resume work. Speaking of which, Corey’s mom is such a sweetie; one of the reasons she chose the hotel for their stay was because it had an indoor pool, and she thought that I might want to escape to the hotel and swim and write for a few hours, which, normally, would have been so tempting, but as I was already fighting succumbing to the nasty in my chest, I never was able to take advantage of.
So I’m hoping to resume the writing in a few weeks, after decorating, packages, family dinners, and oh yes, nastiness in chest.
“Blessed are the weird people
—poets, misfits, writers, mystics, painters, troubadours—
for they teach us to see the world through different eyes.” ~ Jacob Nordby
I’m making a real effort to finish this post today, in spite of this nagging desire to crawl into bed and read. My logic is that if I finish this post, then I will have accomplished something (besides laundry), and it will give me the impetus to keep things rolling, but so far, not so much.
Weirdly enough, I am feeling more dizzy as the day progresses. Relapse anyone? No, seriously, this isn’t funny. On Thursday, Corey and I did errands for several hours, and I felt pretty good, tired by the end of the day, but better than I’ve felt in a week. Then yesterday kind of hinky, weak, but this dizziness?
Do I need chocolate? Could that be the source of my body’s quivering (and not quivering in even remotely a good way). Actually, I’m craving tiramisu and fresh fish. Corey went in search of some of the latter for dinner in the hopes that the Omega-3’s will boost whatever is ailing me.
“Whatever it is you’re seeking won’t come in the form you’re expecting.” ~ Haruki Murakami
So in case you’re wondering: the images? Quirky images for a quirky post. Seemed fitting.
I did stop writing to do some laundry and to read a book that had been on my reading pile, only to discover that I’m fairly certain that I already read it. It’s a Linda Fairstein book, one of her early ones. I like the later ones better, less reliance upon snappy/snarky dialogue, and more character development.
In other news, Lex, Mike and Olivia had a family Christmas portrait made yesterday. I can’t wait to see them. I’m really hoping that she’ll send them out along with the thank you notes and birth announcement that have been written since forever but remain unposted. My daughter. What can I say?
Brett’s semester is winding down, and it’s not a week too soon. It’s been a long painful one for him, one in which he has questioned his decisions and seriously contemplated just quitting. I’m really hoping that once the semester is over he can take the time he’s been planning and make that trip to New Zealand. If he doesn’t do it now, when will he?
And eldest son made a life decision last week and applied for his T.W.I.C., the first step in pursuing a job as a merchant marine. I’d love for him to consider attending Massachusetts Maritime Academy like his grandfather, or the Seaman’s School in maritime that my own father attended, but one thing at a time, I suppose.
Tillie has torn up her new stuffed baby. Alfie is still not letting me put medicine on his sores, and Corey is kind of in between. He’s definitely feeling better, so glad that his cough and nastiness didn’t get full-blown like mine, but I sense that he’s just kind of ambling through the news few weeks until he’s ready to make a change.
That all for now. Sorry it’s so boring, but I’m hoping to regain my speed as the week progress.
More later. Peace.
Music by Fiona Apple, “Why Try to Change Me Now”
By the Same Author
~ James Longenbach
Lola's Curmudgeonly Musings 