Woke up this morning with a fever, headache, and my knees and my fingers swollen and painful. It’s official, I’m in a full-blown lupus flare-up. Whee.
So I’m staying home today. Man, I just cannot shake this sick thing. It’s been three weeks!
And further suckitude, I really needed to be at work today. Big testing, late project. Argh.
My GP prescribed a bag of goodies for me: an inhaler, antibiotics, and codeine cough syrup. Woo. And yet I still feel like crap. Maybe if I mix alcohol with the codeine, exactly the way the bottle says I shouldn’t, that’d help? Err, better not.
And I’ve got an appointment with a Rheumatologist next week. Doctor appointy goodness.
Hobkin is of the opinion that a nip on the nose means “I love you.” Last night, while I was dozing on the couch, he crawled up on my pillow, nipped my nose (thereby waking me up) and then proceeded to snuggle with me for the next several hours. Cute? Yes. An appropriate display of affection? Sigh. Apparently so.
I feel like I’m fixating on the enthusiasm with which my lungs are trying to leap free of my chest, but it’s hard not to. It’s like my lungs are in a perpetual state of spasm or impending spasm. It sucks. Got an appointment to see my GP tomorrow. Although I wonder if I should see a specialist. I’ve learned more about Lupus by poking around online than I have from any of my normal run-of-the-mill doctors. It’s such an uncommon condition, I tend to think a specialist would give me better care. Then again, most medical personnel point me to a Rheumatologist when I tell them I’ve got Lupus, and joint problems aren’t my main problem (yet). I dunno.
Anyway, we went out to see Chamber of Secrets yesterday. There was quite a range of ages in the theater. And all of them were well-behaved! Not a single screaming, wailing, or talking audience member for the whole film. Neat.
I think they did a better job translating book to screenplay with this one. They followed the book pretty slavishly, but not to the point of the first movie, which I think included more side bits than it really ought to have for pacing’s sake. Very pretty, of course. Although Rupert Grint, the actor who plays Ron Weasley, looked constipated for most of the film. I tend to blame the director for that more than the actor.
But the ending was kinda . . . weird. There was a huge climactic cheering/rousing music bit for nothing all that stirring. Huh.
But it was fun. And I ate more greasy popcorn than I should have.
I’m having my first Christmas shopping anxiety fit too. What’s the perfect thing to buy for family/friends/hubby? Oh, the agony!
Last night, Matthew and I had tickets to “All’s Well that Ends Well” at the Shakespeare Tavern. I was still feeling a bit sickly but I popped more acetaminophen and some cough syrup, and put on my happy face. As usual, much fun was had, although this play is kinda variable. We’ve seen it before at the Illinois Shakespeare Festival, but it was unmemorable. Literally. I didn’t recognize the storyline until about one third of the way through.
Watching it brought up a storytelling element I’ve been dwelling on lately: pacing. I think this play’s pacing was off. The first half dragged, which is unusual for this particular company as they typically have an amazing interpretation of Bill’s works that translates into, among other things, incredible pacing. So I think it was the play rather than the company. Especially since the second half really picks up and just rockets along. Pacing is a tricky balancing act. Need to read more short works of people who have it down.
And, as a clumsy segue, I no longer think I’ve got anything resembling a cold but rather am having a full blown Lupus flare-up. I saw a blurb on CNN about Howie Dorough of the Backstreet Boys giving $165K to fund Lupus research because his sister died of it. When describing the cause of her death, he went on to mention a “Lupus-related cough.” Gah! 1. I’m getting my health information from a Backstreet Boy. There’s something really wrong about that. And 2. that reminded me that lung problems are a common symptom of Lupus, one which I hadn’t had before, so I shoved it to the back of my consciousness. A quick online search pinpoints my symptoms to a T. Crap. Looks like it’s time to see the doctor. Great. Stupid crappy immune system.
And finally, I heard from a person on my skunk chat list who also subscribes to a ferret list that someone in Indiana is planning on shooting their ferret if nobody will buy her. An excerpt from this asshole’s email:
“I’m sorry to say that if I can’t sell my ferret and cage. I’m gonna have to take it out and shoot it. I had to shoot one already but that was because she was real sick.
“There are no shelters in my area, I checked. As far as the sick ferret I shot awhile ago, I did take it to the vet, there was nothing he could do. If you people really cared, you’d buy this animal. So don’t give me your shit about me being sick. I also read a suggestion about putting it in the paper. that costs money that I’m not willing
hand out for her. I came on here for some help getting rid of it. If you can’t help, I understand, and I’ll take care of it myself.”
There’s just so much wrong with this guy I can’t even begin ranting about it.
The skunk chat folks are organizing a sting. They’re sending him an email saying one of them is interested in buying her (he won’t even just give her away, but is asking $100 for her and her cage!) in the hopes of getting him to give a phone number or address. Then they want to call the ASPCA on his ass. I hope it works. And I really, really hope they can get the little sprite away from him.
Yep, here’s a stat counter.
Matthew put together an amazing meal last night. The faux meatloaf was luscious, especially topped with mushroom ‘n onion gravy. Mmmm. And there are leftovers to nibble, as there rightly should be after a great feast.
And now it’s the official beginning of Christmas–shopping frenzy to commence. We got the tree and most of the decorations up yesterday. But my energy level petered out earlier than it usually does. I blame my yearning-to-be-free lungs. And, of course, putting up the Christmas decorations is a family activity, so when I flopped over, Matthew stopped too. But we got most of it up and it’s very festive. Seeing the house all lit up with fairy lights and evergreen boughs makes my heart all warm and fuzzy.
Christmas is my favorite holiday. It didn’t used to be. In fact, it was on my list of things to dread during my whole childhood and adolescence. It wasn’t until I met Matthew that I, grudgingly, re-evaluated its status as darkness-upon-my-soul.
My mother didn’t really get Christmas, having grown up in a culture that doesn’t do much with it. And there wasn’t extended family to spend it with, so Christmas was typically a drab, lonely, disappointing affair. And then when I hit high school, it just got worse. Christmas was a time of loneliness and isolation, stark against other people’s joy. I hated it and it always made me depressed.
But now, now I love it. Matthew and his family have these charming holiday traditions that are just, well, charming. A big part of it, of course, is that I really love Matthew’s family. Growing up, I didn’t have anything resembling a supportive family base. My father left us when I was three, and my mother is insane. I don’t talk to her anymore, aside from an email once or twice a year. She now lives in Hong Kong and the other side of the world is just about the right distance for us to co-exist peacefully. But Matthew’s family fills a void that I didn’t even know I had until they stepped into it. I look to them for the sort of validation that I knew, growing up, I needn’t bother going to my mother for. They’re the first people I tell–after Matthew–when I’ve made a sale. I didn’t even know I craved that sort of unqualified love and support until I realized how much it mattered to me when they told me how proud they were of me and my accomplishments.
They’re good people, my in-laws.
Hurray for the beginning of Christmas.
Thanksgiving isn’t a big holiday for us. In the past, we’ve occasionally had friends over and done a bit of a vegetarian meal, but for the most part, we’ve just stayed home, maybe put together some pasta, and watched movies. But this year, Matthew bought the fixings for a complete Thanksgiving dinner. A huge faux meatloaf, cranberry sauce, and mashed potatoes with mushroom ‘n onion gravy. Yummy. It’s interesting. I remember when I first became a vegetarian how hard it was to find textured vegetable protein products, and now it’s everywhere: faux hot dogs, veggie burgers, tofurky, veggie cold cuts, faux fish fillets. Hurray!
In other news, my lungs continue to try to exit my body through my throat. How fun. And my early morning insomnia has reappeared. Probably due to my weird sleep habits from being sick. Maybe I’ll crack open the ole laptop and try to crank out another couple thousand words–put my early AM alertness to some use.
14K into the novel. Forging ahead. Rah. And the S&S story rewrite is complete and it’s out. Ended up with exactly twenty critiques, which surprised me. By Saturday, I was only at six, and I expected this to be a thin week. But a slew of them came pouring in yesterday and Tuesday.
Again, surprising me, the overall consensus from my readers was extremely positive–including a veritably glowing one from one of my regulars whose opinion I always find invaluable. Go fig. Well, good. Hope the editors agree with them.
Buffy on Tuesday: I liked it. But they didn’t reveal the conclusion of the cliffhanger moment with Giles from last week. Giiiiles! Eep. And again, I find myself saying, as I have episode after episode this season: “Poor Spike!”
Haven’t been LJing much. The cold I thought I was almost over seems to have decided to migrate to my chest and camp out there indefinitely in the form of a really annoying cough. Blah. Lung bits anyone?
In Hobkin news:
The other day I was making a pie, one of those no-bake, pie-in-a-box dealies. One of the instructions was to beat the filler on high with an electric mixer for three minutes.
Hobkin completely freaked out when I turned on the mixer. For something like half an hour after I finished using the mixer he tore around the house at full speed, knocking into things when he couldn’t corner fast enough, terrified out of his little fuzzy mind. I tried to pick him up to calm him down and had to trap him in the bathroom in order to catch him. And then he nearly jumped out of my arms so that he could go tearing around some more. We offered him a little bit of food and he was so scared he wouldn’t take it from us.
Eventually, he calmed down and then it was business as usual as he came up for snuggles, but it was really weird. I’ve used the mixer before around him and while he doesn’t like it, he hasn’t had this sort of response. He doesn’t respond as wildly to the vacuum cleaner either.
Poor lil guy. I guess that means no more pie-in-a-boxes for us.
Writing stats:
– 8000 words into the novel. Still going strong.
– Re-write of S&S piece has commenced. Still surprised at how positive the feedback has been on this one.
29 critiques on Critters last week for my catharsis story. Goodness. Usually I expect around twenty. But the re-write’s done, and it’s out the door. Got a really good suggestion from a semi-regular critiquer. Love it when I get such excellent advice.
My S&S story is currently up now. Only four crits so far, but it’s only Thursday. I’m very dissatisfied with that one. I think it’s in the roughest shape of anything I’ve ever thrown to the masses. The prose in the beginning is pretty labored. A substantial overhaul will be necessary. Interesting to see what will come out after I get all the feedback in. Surprisingly, it’s gotten a fairly positive reception so far. But then again, it’s still early in the week.
And finally, drum-roll please, I’ve started on the novel. Really started on it and not just dicking around with it. Wow. 5000 words in. At this word count in a short story I’d be either winding it up, or at the very least well past the midpoint. And here I’m still only in the buildup and will be for a while yet. It’s a whole different world.
Okay, Matthew and I are members of the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS). Hurray. But they keep sending us these little “gifts” along with their “please give us more money” notes. In the last year, they’ve sent us: two personalized coffee mugs, a key-chain, a necklace, and an umbrella.
Now the question I have is: Is the money we’re sending them going to help animals, or fund these trinkets? I’m already displeased about money I give to charities being used for postage to ask for more money instead of to the cause I support, but if it’s also going to pay for these cheap little gee-haws, then I’m even less happy.
*grumble grumble grumble*
I’m still going to give HSUS money, ’cause I know they do good work, but I wish I knew whether these “gifts” were donated or if they actually spent money to buy them.
