Ow, man.

I just split my pinkie finger open like a freaking butterfly shrimp. Dammit.

haze. post-holiday jottings...

I have this fascination with pretty china cups. I would like to own a bunch of them with tiny roses and thin gold rims and I would drink from them every day. I might possibly make tiny sandwiches and buttery little scones with raspberry jam and eat these things while watching my yard get all foggy as the snow melts and all the tiny little rabbit prints fade away.

I daydream about leisure, about slow, slow time and doing nothing in particular.

I am dreaming of ordinary things and miss the fever dreams but not the fever.

M made me laugh so hard today I had a coughing fit and my lungs felt dry and papery and I can almost imagine them as these little dessicated things shriveling up in my chest.

The temperature is rising and everything looks like a soupy haze just hanging there at shoulder level. I should like to walk the dog in this weather but he is very old and not quite up to it, I imagine.

This whole melting and freezing again thing is sickness weather. I feel dread. I am so tired of being sick. I feel like I have been sick forever.

The other day I came home from work and nuked some takeout pizza (I am officially tired of soup) and watched Candyman, which I think is a really creepy movie, but I am afraid of bees, so maybe that's why.

I want to make something complicated in the kitchen. Gnocchi, perhaps? Or a really fancy cake? I need a distraction, but I am too slammed with things that need to be done and I have totally failed at prioritizing them.

I am feeling maudlin. I would probably feel better if there were new poems, but alas, there are none. I did get a personal rejection from Spoon River Poetry Review, which is kind of nice, as rejections go.




Scary Vending Machine Item of the Week: Anything with Cream Filling that Does Not Require Refrigeration.

Today I am made of ick, but still, I persevere. My turkey was just perfect, despite my fears of messing it up. It was *hard* to cook while feeling like the walking dead, but I am Irish and tough and all that. I prepared the whole works in my jammies. I took lots of thera-flu. I drank copious amounts of green tea. I cooked a lot, but ate very little. I am still alive. Plus, my family thinks I'm awesome.

I am no longer afraid of turkeys. I also made cranberry sauce, which has scads of vitamin C. (Z prefers the stuff that is shaped like the can, but I need the real thing.) Now I just need to survive tomorrow. I am entertaining people other than just the nuclear family and must wear real clothes. M has bought me more flu medicine. (I got vetoed on the whole "Let's reschedule xmas until I'm feeling better" thing.) It's all gonna be fine.

I haven't wrapped anything yet. My sinuses still feel rather fiery and my stomach isn't totally happy but I am eating sparingly and have have plenty of tea. No coffee! It makes me feel awful when I'm already under the weather. Hope I feel better before I have to go to work on Sunday. Bleh.


I drank ALL the cranberry ginger ale. It was delicious.


Ho Ho Ho.

Yesterday I told M that I feel like my lungs are filled with hot jalapeno cheese. I had a Fishermen's Friend cough drop that's been sitting in my work vest pocket for like, a month because I figure anything that medicinal can't get contaminated in there. I probably should have gotten a flu shot this year. I have mixed feelings about flu shots, which are full of little microbes and maybe minute amounts of neurotoxins and that wouldn't help my brain any, I'm sure. I hope I don't die from this weird chest cold thing.

It's been a hard week and I was feeling blue but then M and I went out for margaritas tonight and it was even better than Robotussin. Cough? What cough?

I'm still afraid of my turkey but I've decided that if it all goes terribly wrong we can have spaghetti, which is my favorite food anyway.

I have had my fill of mean people and general snappishness. I grow tired of bad manners.

There are no cookies in this house, only cranberry ginger ale and a big, scary turkey.

Have a roast-beast-o-licious holiday.

Random xmas angst

Today I went to the supermarket after work and bought a (small!) turkey. I was stoked at first but I've never actually made a turkey and now I'm having second thoughts. It's just the three of us on xmas eve so this will be a grand experiment. (It's just like cooking a really big chicken, right?)

I'm making a big dinner again for family on xmas day. I'm going to have too many leftovers and it's totally freaking me out. Why do I do these things? Also: I think I have food hoarding issues. I bought two bottles of molasses and came home only to find I already had a bottle and a half in the pantry. I am a weirdo. Like, am I afraid of running out of molasses? Really?

I am perpetually exhausted or narcoleptic. I have not wrapped anything.

Without Professor Moriarity, there is no Sherlock Holmes

December, & I am consumed with various forms of itchy anxiety where everything seems apocalyptic. Nothing creative is happening, but perhaps this will change.

Mired. Swamped. Drowning. It's strange how we metaphorically compare feeling overwhelmed with a large pool of (dirty) water. I think I feel a depression coming on, but I am fighting it. I suppose this time of year is trying for most of us anyway.

I have this love/hate relationship with humanity. I want to be around other humans but desperately need some time away from them. People exhaust me lately. I feel like those fictional psychics who go mad around crowds of people because all the inner monologues reverberate in their brains and crowd out their own thoughts.

Going on an online diet (i.e. avoiding the internet) for about a week. Starting later. Maybe.

Mercury in retrograde brings with it all kinds of returning nemeses.

December, so far:

zombie dreams of being chased by teenagers with bloody mouths

soup

ailing dog with totally jacked-up looking eye

good books & bad movies

melancholy tarot readings

wishing away one's archenemies

failing