Spike's Bitches 33: Weeping, crawling, blaming everybody else
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Love the hair, beth! In fact, might be taking jealous notes yet again.
Tipsy JZ! Fun!
hi, lib!
psst, change your name....
.
Sorry you are ick, Maria. I am
still
waiting to have my lungs entirely back. This ick suuuuuuuuucks.
Fell asleep early. Think I just should go back to sleep. Much to do but mostly in the cleaning and grocery and errand league so night seems the wrong time to do them.
Unfortunately, chasing Kittenish for her meds took way more time and sleepy-shaking energy than it should have. Once caught and shot, she is wandering around me like normal - freak. Smart freak, but freak.
Hi Cass!
Did your ick start out with just being tired and achy? There seems to be an awfully lot of that at work lately. Of course, this means I should probably go to bed early instead of reading b.org and playing Funny Farm, doesn't it...
I think it started with tired and ache-y but my first big realization was a sore throat that went from hey, kinda feels funny to owOwOWWWW way too quickly to be a good thing. And then invited the bronchitis to come and play.
Get rest and avoid this. Really, this is peer pressure that you want to just walk away from.
I think that our thing must be something different. Perhaps it's just winter hitting us all at once. Most of the librarians at work are just so tired our knees are wobbly, with a little bit of achyness, but no definitive symptoms. I wouldn't have thought anything of it if we didn't all feel the same way at once.
I would love to take time off, but I'm already way behind and I'm supposed to go visit my mom next week.
Sigh.
I can't put it off any longer. Must. sleep. now.
Could just be winter's idea of a practical joke, yes. Frankly, I have no idea where my ick originated.
Hope your visit with your mom goes well. And without us wanting to shake her and tell her how wonderful you are.
Mine is on her way up (thus, must clean like whoa tomorrow) but I am very lucky that we generally get along fabulously and, not unrelatedly, have figured out where to just accept the differences between us.
libkitty, I forgot to commisserate about your mom. Aren't parents fun? If you were rail-thin, she'd find something else.
Mal has cut down on his sleep, going to bed an hour later and getting up an hour earlier. Now that it appears to be routine, I have to deal with getting up at 6:30. My new plan is to hit the exercise bike every morning - that way I will stay warm and kickstart my metabolism. And Mal almost knows to stay away from the pedals.
So I biked this morning...and then bought a big doughnut for brekkie.
"I must tell Fay the Bible supports her in e-mail."
Go me!
The prospect of Peeves wrangling a sugared-up Jilli is just cute like woah. Darn. Jeeves is Love, people!
iovaguely-Jilli-relatedn, I bought
The Velveteen Rabbit
over the weekend, it being a book I had never actually read. But with a vague knowledge of the plot I reckoned that it would go down well with my kids, since Barney the Dog is such a central part of our class.
Oh My God. I wept pretty much from cover to cover. I was reading it out loud (kind of to The Cat Daniel, but mostly not, because really? He could care less) and there were places where I just had to stop and breathe for a bit.
Because, yes, I am indeed mad as a bag of frogs. But I have to
practice,
if it's something potentially sad-making, because books and movies and poems often slay me. I cannot, for example, read
The Highwayman
(amongst other things) to kids, because it breaks me. Even though it's not even one of the saddest things. But I mention it because it's such a cracking poem to read out loud when teaching about rhyme and rhythm and all that jazz...except for the part where
it kills me ded.
Turns out that
The Velveteen Rabbit
also kills me ded. Damn it. But I'm going to have a crack at it anyway. In a bit.
Meanwhile, I'm rereading
Swordspoint, which I first read almost exactly half my life ago.
Still loving it.
Also watching
Deadwood
Season 1, and it's very good. And I've now adjusted to Ian McShane being in it. (He's loosely the equivalent of Henry Winkler among my people, if Henry Winkler was
only
known for playing the Fonze in
Happy Days,
in terms of cheezy iconic lovable rogue figure fancied by one's mum. Except for the part where
Lovejoy
was an antiques dealer. And now instead of "Go on, Lady Jane, you know you want to buy this sixteenth century mirror to admire your lovely face in" it's all "Fucking kill the fucking little girl now you cunting hooplehead fuck.")
JZ! So good to read your fonts. I remember being broken by Ben's 2 month shots. Broken. So broken I had an ephiphany. You were wise to self-medicate with martinis.
Oh, thank you! And I did survive, much better than I had thought.
Oh good, Teppy. You weren't saying, and I didn't know how to ask. Then that cunning JZ went and asked you in English. How innovative!
In fact, The Boy is sitting on my living room floor right now, cutting out coupons (he has a minor obsession with coupons -- it's endearing and frightening). So I think that means All Is Well.
Just don't let him meet Cashmere, I smell a potential soulmate thing.
Fun cut beth!
So, surprise surprise, I have about 12 days of work to do today to prepare to go to the keys tomorrow. Not the least of which is taking the dog to the vet since she has bald icky spots.
grumble and gronk
black coffee:
The poker discussion in Natter reminded me of a poem/lyric my mother asked me to research. One of her Irish uncles used to quote this and she has never found the original. Does this sound familiar to anyone?
life is a game of poker
happiness is the pot
life deals you five cards in the craddle
and you play whether you like it or not
She said it went on at length, but since it was about 75 years ago she can't remember the whole thing. Xposty from Natter since I have hit a dead end looking for this. (maybe he made it up)
