As children we mark our years through milestones: Losing a tooth, growing an inch, learning to ride a bike, getting a driver’s license.
Adults, especially older ones, measure ours in appointments: Colonoscopy, mammogram, dental, vision, etc.
Mine all seem to pop up at the same time of year. It’s as if I’ve designated spring as appointment time. March is chock full of fun.
However, I also have some great things on the calendar in March and April! Two of my good friends from Illinois are coming to stay with me over their spring break. I was afraid to jinx it by writing about their visit, but now their plans are made, and I am so excited to show them a side of Florida that I hope they’ll love. And close on the heels of that visit is my trip to Antigua, Guatemala.
So maybe the milestones aren’t quite as fun now that I’m decidedly over the hill. The pleasures, though, are outstanding. Look ma! No hands!
Each morning I wake up and think, “Today’s the day this cold virus is officially going to stop messing up my life.” So far I’ve been wrong, but since when has that stopped me?
My nights are marked by throat tickling coughs that I try my best to hold in until I almost explode, and my days are spent fighting the dizziness and nausea brought on by draining sinus passages. In other words, I’m a real hoot to be around right now.
I take one medication for this symptom, another for that. My bathroom counter looks like the inside of Walgreens. Let’s spin the wheel and see what works this time.
My favorite “medication” is spicy Mexican food, so I’m self-medicating at Tijuana Flats, a great little place near Florida State University, that carries its own line of salsas:
I’m desperately hoping my cure resides in one of these containers. They did load my meal up with extra jalapeños–they take great care of me here.
I stopped drinking my hot toddy mixture. The whisky was tasting just a little too good, if you know what I mean. Oh, who am I kidding? I ran out of the stuff and Studly won’t fetch me a new bottle.
If you have a favorite end of cold remedy please share. I need to get well.
I’ve never shied away from telling my true age. Never pled the fifth. For many years I loved hearing people exclaim, “You don’t look ___!” Now, I believe all my years, like chickens, have come home to roost. And they’re having a wonderful time creating havoc with my looks.
Without fail I go through a sort of manic preparation before embarking on a major trip. Before Studly and I went to Scotland two summers ago I had six months to scurry around shopping for just the right accoutrement (Studly uses the term “crap”) for our journey.
With a trip to Guatemala looming in early April I have less than two months to get my accoutrement together. It’s not that I don’t have enough clothes already, it’s that I don’t have the RIGHT clothes. I can hardly be expected to wear my normal t-shirts and jeans when traveling to a foreign country.
Travel smith.com is getting my business this time around. I’ve ordered two items from their website:
and,
Both earned a respectable 5 star rating, and I hope they live up to their respective reputations. Since I have a wedding to attend in Guatemala, it’s important that I look good, but not too good. One wouldn’t want to outshine the bride, after all. So maybe I’ll bring my crepe-y, saggy arms along instead of a firmer, sexier pair.
Normally I’d be asleep by now. Study is snoring, but it’s my sore throat, not his sonorous rumblings keeping me awake tonight. Rather than toss and turn I got up to make myself a cup of hot tea with lemon, but somehow the tea ended up being a shot of whiskey in a hot toddy. I’m sipping it now, and it’s working a miracle on my poor, raw throat.
I have a song lyric stuck in my head (again). This time it’s an oldie–“Your Cheating Heart” by Hank Williams. Not the whole song, mind you, just the part about not being able to sleep. Very fitting tonight.
“Your Cheatin’ Heart”
Your cheatin’ heart
Will make you weep
You’ll cry and cry
And try to sleep
But sleep won’t come
The whole night through
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…
When tears come down
Like falling rain
You’ll toss around
And call my name
You’ll walk the floor
The way I do
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…
Your cheatin’ heart
Will pine some day
And crave the love
You threw away
The time will come
When you’ll be blue
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…
When tears come down
Like falling rain
You’ll toss around
And call my name
You’ll walk the floor
The way I do
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…
Don’t worry, no one around here is cheating; I’m too crazy about Studly Doright, and he IS Studly Doright, after all.
I’m about finished with my hot toddy and will try sleeping again. But I’ll leave you with a little Hank.
Update: Now, a friend scolded me about using a Hank Jr. video, and I must admit to my error. However, in my defense, I did tell you all I was leaving you with a “little” Hank.
My cold has faded to a manageable annoyance, leaving me with a slightly sexy rasp instead of my normal high-pitched twang. It’s my favorite stage of the illness, and I wonder why I couldn’t have just fast-forward to the good part.
We had a doozy of a thunderstorm last night. The sky this morning is a gray blue, and the forest looks like something out of a fairy tale, all vine-y and mysterious. A migrating flock of ducks has landed on Lake Yvette, periodically hassled by a nesting pair of snowy egrets. I tried taking a picture, but only ended up startling all parties involved. (See below)
My dad would have loved sitting out on the back porch, having a cup of coffee, and of course his ever present cigarette. He’d have said, “Sis, look at this.” Or, “I just saw something run through the brush right there.” We’d speculate as to what he’d seen, maybe catching another glimpse, maybe not.
And he and I would just sit watching the woods all morning, pausing only to fetch another cup of coffee.
The ducks weren’t that crazy about me snapping a picture.
I’m desperately hoping my cure resides in one of these containers. They did load my meal up with extra jalapeños–they take great care of me here. 
Praying for Eyebrowz 