Month: May 2018

In Today’s News

I smiled at myself in the bathroom mirror this morning. That might not seem like such a big deal, but it’s huge in my world. After being sick for a week now, I feel like maybe things are looking up. I also feel like I’ve made that claim more than once in the past seven days, so I’m not putting any money on it.

I tried to ignore all of the news about trump reneging on the deal with Iran yesterday. Remember when we wondered how to deal with the mad men of other countries? Now, we have our own homegrown mad man. Lucky us. Makes me nostalgic for Qaddafi.

Instead, I focused on the fun news.

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/massive-rockefeller-family-art-auction-opens-646-million-haul-n872566

The Rockefeller family’s auction set more than one record yesterday. Unfortunately my illness, and a few million dollars, kept me from buying anything.

Above, Picasso’s Young Girl with a Flower Basket sold for $115,000,000. Gertrude Stein’s brother originally purchased it for $30 in 1905.

Monet’s Water Lilies in Bloom sold for a record $87.4 million.

The Matisse, perhaps my favorite, sold for more than $80 million.

So I’ll likely never own an original Picasso, or Monet, or Matisse. At least I’ve got my health, right? Right? Damn.

Peace, people.

When You’re Still Sick, but You Know Everyone is Tired of Hearing About It.

There is a black cat reposing on my chest. Occasionally she head butts me, a sure sign of affection. Or maybe just an attempt at getting my attention. Either way, her ministrations are comforting.

I was supposed to get a haircut today. It’s desperately needed, but there’s no way I can drive to the town my salon is located in. There are miles between bathrooms.

Our bedsheets need washing. I’m fairly sure I have the energy to strip the sheets from the bed, but will I be able to put them back on after they’ve been washed and dried?

The television is driving me crazy, but my mind won’t let me read a book. Silence is fine for awhile, but I dwell on the wrong stuff: I hate Donald Trump, God help me, but it’s true.

I keep reminding myself that I love my husband. We haven’t gotten to sleep in the same room for awhile due to his sciatica, then his upper respiratory infection, and my “whatever fresh hell this is today.” Have I mentioned he’s supposed to have a surgical procedure later this week? Fudge.

I want my mommy. God, I want my mommy. I dreamt of her last night. She had a fancy new car and a coffee mug with an inspirational verse written in blue script. We sat in the car and talked. I cried.

Circles of Gloom

The beautiful blue pattern of interlacing circles pictured above is from a hospital gown. No, I wasn’t admitted to the hospital, but took an impromptu trip to the convenient care clinic on Sunday afternoon where I was poked and prodded, x-rayed and questioned interminably, not necessarily in that order. Being sick is exhausting.

I did learn that the best way to get to the head of the line at convenient care is to go in wearing one’s pajamas and stage whisper that you’re prone to bouts projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhea. Sadly both are true, but I was immediately taken to a room.

They’ve perhaps sorted out my issues and I’m hoping we are on a course of recovery.

I Need a Hug

The awful illnesses that have infected Studly Doright and I seem to be slowly drawing to an end. I watched a hamburger chain’s advertisement for a double thick steak burger last night without feeling the need to run to the bathroom to puke up the chicken broth I’d just sipped on for an hour. It’s a harbinger of better days to come, just as the first robin signifies Spring’s beginning. Less poetic, but the same.

Studly seems to be coughing less and he doesn’t fade in and out when walking through a room with white painted walls. He’d make a great spy if all the walls in a given location were bone white. Walk right in, seize the classified documents, walk right out.

One of the worst things about being ill at the same time with one’s partner, only with two different types of viruses or infections is that we can’t hug lest we give each other what we’ve got.

“Here, Studly, my love, have a week of puking up everything you even think about wanting to eat.”

“Sure Nana, my goddess, why don’t you enjoy hacking your head off for a change of pace.”

I really need a hug. Studly might need one, too. We’ve patted each other on our respective heads and arms, and then quickly moved to sanitize our hands lest germs be transferred in this manner.

Maybe that’s why last night (in my dreams, of course) I had an intense make out session with Gerard Butler. I woke up feeling immensely more cheerful.

Peace, people.

The Flu or Something Even More Hideous

Readers, I’m sick. Studly Doright is also sick. We both have different symptoms. His are upper respiratory in nature, mine have kept me tethered to the toilet. Fun, fun, fun.

We’ve had to take turns caring for one another over the past four days. Neither of us are good nurses under the best conditions, and certainly these conditions aren’t good.

I hope we’re both headed towards our own warped versions of normal. In the meantime, this little girl has been my constant companion.

Patches would’ve made a fine nurse.

Artistic Inspiration

On my recent trip to Austin I spent a bit of time admiring works of art displayed in the Bass Concert Hall on the University of Texas campus. This piece, “Let the Big World Turn” by Molly Bennett, caught my eye:

The circle is a collage comprised of pieces of paper arranged in an aesthetically pleasing design. I thought it was lovely and decided I could try my hand at creating something on a smaller scale.

Let’s just say I wasn’t very successful.

Nevertheless, I’m going to give it another try. I believe my pieces of paper need to be smaller. And I should probably have some kind of a plan for the composition. Also, it might need more cowbell:

https://goo.gl/images/eGRuhU

A No-Spoilers, Non-Review of Avengers Infinity War

A list of ten reasons to see Avengers Infinity War:

1) Lots of amazing storylines that even I could keep straight.

2) Chris Hemsworth-This man. Whoa!

3) Chadwick Bozeman-Yum.

4) Chris Pratt–adopt him or make out with him? Decisions, decisions.

5) Danai Gurira–I love her in The Walking Dead, and even more so in the Black Panther films. She’s not even a superhero, just a badass gorgeous woman.

6) Letitia Wright–she stole the Black Panther film with her adorable brilliance. Her character doesn’t get to show her quirky side in this film, but you know it’s hiding just beneath the surface.

7) Peter Dinklage–Tyrion Lannister supersized!

8) Everyone else–what a cast.

9) Not a single dull moment.

10) Special effects–amazing. It takes a lot to thrill me with special effects nowadays, but this film did just that. Dr. Strange alone is a marvel (see what I did there?)

I didn’t mention to Studly Doright that I was going to see this film yesterday. His sciatica won’t let him sit through a movie at the theatre, so let’s just keep this secret between ourselves, shall we?

Peace, people!

An Entry into the Realm of WTF

Remember buying candy cigarettes? I do. I’d walk around pretending to inhale before dramatically exhaling, sometimes imagining elegant smoke rings emanating from the tip of my fake filtered Winston.

Even as a child I knew that was rather messed up. We didn’t yet have the surgeon general’s warning on actual packs of smokes, but my mom still lied to her mom about smoking, so why was it okay for me to make-believe I smoked?

Candy cigarettes didn’t even taste good. I’m fairly certain they could’ve substituted for blackboard chalk in a pinch, but that never deterred me from indulging my fantasy addiction. Thank goodness they became politically incorrect and disappeared from store shelves. For the record, I’ve never smoked. Maybe they acted as a deterrent.

At least candy cigars had some flavor. They were bubble gum, though, rather than candy. One might still be able to purchase candy cigars. Perhaps Prince Charles handed some out after the birth of the newest royal baby. I revel in that image.

There are still candies, though, that defy good taste. Like these I discovered in Walmart yesterday afternoon.

Apparently the candy “Zits” are stuck onto one’s face, then popped, and the resulting substance eaten. I say apparently because I’m not going to test them out. I feel like gagging.

Quick, I need a smoke.

Peace, people.