Monday, May 10, 2010

Ask me, ask me, ask me!

We took my girls to see my sister graduate with her doctorate of nursing practice. Claire sat on my niece's lap for awhile during the ceremony, then turned around and said "Is this important?"

Hannah is so close to walking that you could call her a walker, but what she doesn't do well is stop. When she gets this piece down I will post videos to you heart's content.

My daughter has become addicted to the Tom Petty song "The Waiting" and makes me play it over and over. Her dad gets fed up and won't do it but I generally will because I still experience the joy of doing that myself. I just uploaded a bunch of my old CD into iTunes so I have 350+ "new" old songs I have loved for years on the iPod. When I cam across the Smiths "Ask" today I had to play it three times in a row. The Smiths were one of those bands for whom the lyrics of my favorite songs often bore no relationship to my life bit I liked the sound so much I couldn't stop listening. And in "Panic" they stated it perfectly:
because the music that they constantly play, it says nothing to me about my life
. . . hang the DJ! hang the DJ! hang the DJ!

My day began in an OK fashion and ended with me vomiting out the door of my car on my way to pick up the kids, presumably from the virus one of my stepsons had last week and brought home or possibly from food poisoning from a top ramen noodle thing I ate for lunch. Not that I am done both shivering, aching in inexplicable places, and sweating as if I were exercising, and now that I have many medications and 16 ounces of liquid taken in very small doses on board, I am going to bed.

I realize this stream of consciousness post bore less resemblance to a jet stream and more to an El Nino pattern, but it is all I had in me, given that one of my eyes is closing in a neurological fit of disgust with the state of affairs, and that I am only sitting up to increase the odds of my test food staying down. I will now leave the land of the semi vertical with a stock pot in bed for deposits should they be necessary, and just try lying all the way down to hope for the best.


  1. Oh, that is rough! I hope you feel better now.

  2. And somehow it works, which says much for your ability to write despite the churning of your innards. Blessings on you and may you heal swiftly.