Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Prep prep prep

Craziest packing thing: I had the big suitcase all full, but it was 55 lbs, so I took everything out and put it into the medium suitcase and it was 42 lbs. Big suitcase is heavy!

Packing is such a great way to make me completely bananacakes, I tell you what.

Also, my slip on sneaker clog things that I totally adore are now basically too loose to wear. Isn't that bizarre? I don't think they stretched. I mean, they were like $9.86, so I strongly suspect they are not made of the leather of a cow. Where did my feet go? Where?

Anyway I got all packed last night. Except for sweaters, ha ha! Sweaters, man. Another great way to make me crazy. Because I want to take ALL the sweaters. What, wear the same sweater for two weeks? Get out of town. It can't be done. Sweaters are large and fluffy, though.

Let's see, I need my blue one that is basically a security blanket I can wear, plus my favorite lavender one, plus the black cowl neck fancy thick cotton one, plus the black tunic-like one.

Then I washed all my favorite giant wrap-like scarves so I could take them. Again I want to take ALL of them. The fancy pink paisley one, of course! And the beautiful blue one. And the deep green one. And the black one. Plus all those little skimpy scarves.

What can I tell you, the back of my neck and head still feel incredibly vulnerable.

I got the grass cut today. I vacuumed everything yesterday. I stopped the mail and returned the library books, except the one I forgot, dang it! I got pizza and salad for lunch and had the rest of the pizza for dinner. There is nothing in the fridge but half an onion and some potatoes.

I forgot to get AAA batteries so I'll steal them out of my wireless keyboard for the noise-blocking headphones. Sine qua non!

Holy goodness, it is coooooold. At least, after I mowed the grass and got all sweaty then sat around I got very cold.

Do you remember how I would sit in the front room and wig out every time one of those gigantic ridiculous unfathomably large wind farm windmill turbine blades would go by? And how it was giving me incredible anxiety trying to figure out how they would make that turn in Hampden?

Well, today I was in Hampden, right near that corner, when not one but TWO of them went by. And the nice lady at the bank encouraged me to run outside like a five year old and take pictures. Because it looks impossible for that thing to go around that sharp corner. There are always state police cars and all kinds of people driving along to organize this, turning  this one corner. Isn't that amazing? I was so excited to see it happen!

Please excuse my inexplicable enthusiasm! You know when I was in kindergarten I had the same exact issue over school buses turning sharp corners. I just did not see how it was possible when they were so long.

So it was quite vindicating to see that there were all these guys with walkie talkies and remote controls to move the independent back end (the guy said so, telling another guy) to avoid hitting things with the trailing end of the fin.

So big!!!

I am now so cold that I have to cut this short except to say that I'm not as ready as I need to be, since there's a pizza box and trash that need to go out to the shed, plus all those scarves aren't packed, and what about those sweaters, huh? Where exactly are they supposed to go? I know! I'm not even positive what I'm going to wear on the plane. Fancy plain comfy black dress? Or funky comfy other dress? And what on earth will I do about shoes? I really should know this by now. But I do not! Ah!

Well, better go shower and then cope, or vice versa.

Giant wind farm vane corner turning maneuvers observed! Wooooooooo!

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Short stories: the pickle chips of writing

I'm still baffled about how to write a short story, but dang it, I'm trying. I know how to write a novel, but these little snippets, good golly! What is it about? What is it FOR? Why don't I know how to write a short thing when really it's just like a piece of a long thing?

And then I have to wonder: maybe I don't know how to write a long thing after all. Hmmm!

It's like screenplays. Write a scene! I can write a scene. Come in as late as possible, incident, reaction, choice, action, get out in a different place from where you started.

I really think that's what a short story is. It's a scene. Maybe it's a sequence of a couple of short scenes. I'm not really a person who understand the point of an appetizer so maybe the whole thing really is just foreign to me. If it's good, why wouldn't you want a whole meal? If it's not good, why would you want it at all?

Then I remember the fried pickles. They brought me a whole platter of them when I was expecting, like, seven. Seven pickle chips. I got a plateful. I did not want a plateful, yikes, no.

Maybe that's why short stories are always about such unpleasant people or the unpleasant sides of people we like, because while it's fascinating in a distasteful kind of way, it's kind of like driving past the scene of an accident where you can't help looking even though you really don't want to see. It's compelling, but it's not *endlessly* compelling. Could that be why?

I'm flailing, trying to write these things. I guess I should just think about it like writing a chapter in a book where I don't write the rest of the book. Is that how these things work? An episode where I don't write the rest of the show.

There are some short stories out there that I actually do like. I thought I hated all of them, but some stick with me. Those by Roald Dahl, Joan Aiken, and Connie Willis come to mind. I'm not saying all the classics aren't amazing and wonderfully written. I just don't want to read them ever again.

Take "A Rose for Emily." Amazing, but not great company. Poe! I love Poe. There's another one. But I wouldn't really want to read them again. Flannery O'Connor, brilliant, totally wrecks you.

Do I want to wreck someone? Is that a goal of mine? I did not know it, if so. I want to make people cheer and have to get out of their chairs and run around and get excited about things. Goodness knows how you do that with a short story. Or anything, honestly. Writing is telling a story, not psychological manipulation. I think I'll focus on telling a story. Beginning, middle, end.

I just have to point out right now that the dog is sleeping with his front half on the cat bed and the cat is curled up in the middle of the dog bed.

I remember a short story about a couple planning to try to have a baby, where one gets stung by a bee and the other has to inject him/her with an epipen because of severe allergies, and then they decide not to have a baby after all. Because death, I guess?

I do not like that story at all. It kind of epitomizes what I don't like about short stories. They seem so very often to be focused on the negative and miserable and wretched. Or that one about the dad pretending the car didn't work when the son wanted to go to the fair, and then the car really didn't work and the dad got horribly angry and took out his impotent rage on everyone and everything was awful. Remember that one? That's a winner. (NO.)

Use your powers for good, people! I feel like these are people with amazing versatile cameras who go around looking at the grand scope of life and see every possible thing and are like, "Nope, nope, nope, no, definitely not, no no no," at scenes of joy and potential and chance and possibility and trying and all that, but then when some dark scene of human misery comes along they're like, "Ooh!" and up come all the cameras.

Or maybe that's just easier. I don't know. Making people twinge. Maybe it's just what gets published so that's what people write.

What did today give you? I'm a bit struck by the rioting at the Euros in Marseilles, not because riots at soccer are new or interesting, but because Jamie Bamber posted a message thanking kind England fans for helping protect his daughters at their first game and keeping them safe. That's the part that is actually interesting, not the videos of guys kicking the crap out of other guys. See, that's the story I'd want to hear about, how terrifying it would be to be those girls, or their parents, but how wonderful to have perfect strangers step up and protect them from other strangers. That's awesome. That's a good story with a shape and depth to it, going from excitement to dismay to terror to surprise to security and back home safe, a different person afterward. Horrible to experience, though. Look at kids and how they are sure their parents are able to keep them safe from anything, suddenly realizing they're in a situation where things might get beyond their parents' control. That's a harsh realization for anyone.

In my own life, today provided a piano recital in a lovely but airless room, then my nephew and his little friend racing around the empty (closed) library while once again it was brought home to me that my ideal age/genre is probably middle grade chapter books. There was a Danny Dunn book on the reshelving cart and I nearly wigged out from remembering the glory of those. Talk about competence porn, like Leverage--they are full of that. As were the Mad Scientists' Club books. I love that stuff. There were about eighteen million books I wanted to check out, but no way to do it, ack!

Today also provided a very terrible Dunkin Donuts with a kid who got my order (hot mocha) wrong, had all the chairs up on the tables to mop five hours before the place closed, and then chased me out by mopping around my feet, literally right up to my feet, while I was obviously writing on my laptop. Sheesh! Clueless child. It's tempting to tell the manager person because that was the most unwelcoming place.

I don't see that as a story, though, do you? No story there at all. And I was hoping for some good people watching! My little area has almost nothing in the way of places you can go and hang out and drink coffee or tea and watch people do their thing. I had hopes of that place, but nope. Even the recital didn't really play out with much.

Wow. I really like real life to have stories in it, don't I?

There was a moment a couple of weeks ago, at a soccer game, when my little nephew wanted to hug his best buddy goodbye, but she said no and turned away. And he just drooped, arms down, head down, crushed by her rejection. This is the same kid he was running all over the library with today. Then a parent intervened and she hugged him goodbye like she always does and all was well. That I remember! Today my brother put him into the car and we were yammering and then nephew rolled his window down and stuck out his arms and said, "Huggy?" And of course I hugged the little creature through the window, bawwwww!

I keep patting the kids on their heads like dogs, which I really need to stop doing. I patted my nephew's little friend today after she fell over onto my feet, narrowly missing falling onto my backpack with my laptop in it. In fact I sort of pulled it out from under her mid-topple, which is cold-blooded of me, but kids bounce and laptops break. She was fine! Everything was fine! But then I patted her on the top of the head and afterward thought, "Stop patting the children on the head."

Are you thinking about that Flannery O'Connor story with the old lady who gives the child a dime and gets drastically misunderstood as a horrible racist? I am!

I got busted by the security guard at the library today because PIANO RECITAL was spelled PIANO RECTIAL on the sign pointing to the door. It was in movable letters in slots, so of course on my way to the PIANO RECITAL I stopped and and switched the I and T, and then looked up to see the security guard on his way out to me, all business. I was all thumbs up, I fixed it! And he was like, "Mmm hmm." And then I put all my books to return on the returns counter, vaguely wondering why nobody was checking any of them in, and only like an hour later discovered the library was closed except for the PIANO RECITAL, when I wanted to check books out and my brother had to explain to me the reason absolutely nobody was there. Ohhhhhh.

The moral of that story is: I can be cheerfully oblivious to a lot of things. Also not a very interesting story, but I thought it was funny. What can I say, I'm thinking a lot about story.

In even less interesting news, I took the garbage to the transfer station. Not interesting, but good to get it gone, eh? I had to wait in line with the car and was exceedingly alarmed to see the sheets of white smoke coming up from under the hood. It seems to be a lot worse when I haven't driven in a while.

In possibly related news, yikes, I have caught a cold or something, or at least I have a terrible sore throat, which I'm going to blame for my feelings of DOOM and DESPAIR today, though the PIANO RECTIAL might have had something to do with it. All those families, all that planning and organization and practicing, all those well-behaved kids sitting there for an hour and waiting their turns. All those perfectly well ordered lives and security and stability and the carrying out of plans. It gives me tremendous gloom. The weekly soccer tournaments do the same thing. I suppose if I belonged to anything or anyone it wouldn't affect me so much, eh? I'm going to my third semester of school in short order and don't have a single plan with anyone. DOOM. DESPAIR.

I cannot be sick for school. I was utterly wretchedly ill through the entire last residency and I just absolutely cannot do that again.

Here, I will tell you an awesome thing. Wednesday I bought all these flowers and some paste tomato plants. Yesterday I prepped the newly tilled areas of the garden (thank you landlord!) and got them all planted. I lost track of a leg in the process and I'm still falling over today, but it looks absolutely lovely out there, all pink and blue and white flowers, neat rows of tomato plants, my red onions sprouting vigorously, my purple potatoes burgeoning all over. Nice neat fence around it all. Wonderful!

Not a good story, is it? In a good story, the character would come out the other end different. Being sore and limpy after aggravating arthritic joints does not exactly count.

Story story story. Think think think.

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Not doing the thing

Isn't it provoking when you want to do the thing but then you consistently and vigorously do not do the thing? I find it VERY annoying.

In fact I'm surrounded by all kinds of things I would like to do, but I'm in that kind of paralyzed holding pattern zone in which I do nearly nothing. I mean, I'm working, for work, at work. I am doing work, workfully. Work! But I'm doing absolutely nothing else and it's driving me up the wall.

Well...I did manage to run around and spend money after my physical therapy appointment on Wednesday. I acquired some inexpensive pastel cotton clothing! And duly laundered it! And I acquired quite a lot of Indian food MREs at the non-judgy hippie store.

That was fun. It was entirely empty except for the boy at the register and the girl in the deli. The register boy was bored silly and exchanged much witty banter with me as I roamed the aisles. The deli girl was completely absorbed in cutting up sweet potatoes into perfectly sized chunks and took a while to notice me at the counter, but then was completely charming and helpful. I bought some local bacon. And chicken salad with the dried cranberries. And sesame noodles that turned out to be oily and low on flavor. The chicken salad had an odd flavor too, come to think of it. Like, possibly it was made with vegan mayonnaise or something of the sort.

Gawain dog likes to eat a piece of chicken very delicately from my fork. This is a dog I can share a fork with because he just gently bites the chicken and pulls it off the tines. It's so great that I kept giving him more just to watch him do it. Kitty of course had his on the dining room table. Remind me to wipe that down later.

See, more things I'm not doing. I should make a list!

1. Washing my scarves. I need to do that before my trip, particularly since my excellent but androgynous haircut, which also leaves the back of my neck and head feeling strangely vulnerable.

2. Trying on outfits so I can pack. UGH, I hate trying things on and looking in the mirror. If I look in the mirror, I feel terrible! If I don't look, I feel awesome. Ergo, duh. But I suppose I should look. Bleah.

3. Unpacking. Yawwwwnnnn...

4. I still haven't found my dang printer cables and I'm starting to wonder if I ever will. I have looked literally everywhere there is to look. Except in the fezzes in the spare room, with the sewing things and whatnot. I will look there next. I did dig through the closets in the office today, though.

5. Attaching the ladder bookcase to the wall so I can put my music books on it. Now of course it's sort of hemmed in by those boxes and things so I can't get near it to attach it to the wall. I think there's a lesson in there somewhere. But really I just can't commit to where I want the bookcase to go. Screws in the wall! With anchors! So permanent!

6. Taking the garbage to the dump. Fairly yucky thing to do overall, of course, but tremendously satisfying to see it all go. Maybe tomorrow.

7. Watching the latest Star Wars movie on dvd, borrowed from the children. I oughta. But then I don't wanna.

8. Setting up the AppleTV thing so I can watch all the latest Bones episodes. I got really turned off by Hodgins being an unspeakable dickhead and being so rude to Angela and everyone. Very boring trope. Sorry, men being assholes to the women who love them is not appealing to me, no matter what their motivation.

9. Finishing those quilts. Oh boy.

10. Cooking. Yeah, I've been hopeless about cooking. The best I'm doing is pancakes on Sundays and rice in the rice cooker to put Indian food on. That's pretty much it. No, really. I think I made spaghetti last weekend. I really wish I were exaggerating right now but nope. I am out of everything preparatory to travel, which contributes, for sure. But I could, like, get stuff? And cook it? And eat it? And then still be out of stuff, having eaten for a week. I know! And yet I don't.

See why I'm frustrated?

Stress paralysis, it's a thing! I mean, not literal paralysis. It's more like I can't let my guard down enough to do stuff because then who will be on duty? SOMETHING COULD HAPPEN.

Ooh, add #11: taking stuff to Goodwill. Maybe Saturday. I want to. It's not that I don't want to!

Add #12: planting things in the garden. Must accomplish this right away! Of course it instantly got cold and rainy. The potatoes are very happy! The onions are thrilled! There is major activity in the potato and onion quarters, to the point where things look visibly different every time I take the dog out.

I made the mistake of looking at them last night around midnight and of course you know what I saw. Ewwwwww! Mating nightcrawlers, right next to my potato plants. SO GROSS. All red and swollen and glistening. Bleah!

There were just zillions of gigantic fat nightcrawlers all over the garden anyway. Waving their wormy ends in the air like they just don't care. I guess they don't, actually.

Ooh, new haircut. It's awesome. I love it. I did it last night after the plant guy and I were looking at my Oregon license (short hair) and my Maine license (that bob) and agreed that it looked much better short. It does! It still needs some tweaking but I'll get it when I go upstairs. CAREFULLY. Or possibly in the morning, pre-shower, because once I trim my hair I have to get right into the shower.

The animals and I are holed up in the office because it's the most closed in room next to the bedrooms upstairs. Okay, I guess there are what, five rooms? Five. One long drafty living room and kitchen with an ell into the dining room. I figure that's two. If there is no wall between zones it's still one room. Then the office. Then one medium and one small bedroom upstairs. I feel like this house is gigantic but I suppose five rooms does not sound that big, really. Everyone else I know has eight. It feels almost too big for me, though if I ever have people over it will probably be perfect for that.

Gosh, it's cold. I didn't explain: that's why we're holed up in the office. It's usually warmer upstairs so we should probably retire up there. Maybe I can find the unspeakable printer cables. Maybe they're lost forever!

I would really like to work on this book more than anything but as soon as I do, I sheer off and find myself elsewhere, taking pictures of rocks or staring at the trees right outside the window. This house has the BEST windows full of leaves and trees that I have ever seen, I suppose because the trees are so close. From the office it's all lovely creamy white walls and golden molding around the windows and then solid green leaves with just bits of sky at the top.

It's actually very funny to have my latest painting where it is, next to that window, because that's exactly what the painting shows. I can't possibly hang it in here. It looks just silly next to the windows that way.

The kitty stole my comfy chair so I've been sitting on the ottoman to write this, even more reason to get upstairs. I'm marginally more likely to write things on the daybed in the spare room. Marginally.

Here's hoping that this will pass once the stress of travel and school is over. I'm perfectly happy, just pretty much unable to do anything much besides work. Isn't that annoying? I'm feeling quite thwarted. I read two books today and walked the dog and found some scarves and that's it. Ah!

Other things I would love to do: play music, write that music that's been pestering at me, paint, draw, stretch old paintings, build bookcases, hang pictures, knit, und so weiter and blah blah blah. Too agitated! Isn't it dumb? Those are FUN. I am not doing FUN THINGS.

I hope that you all are doing the things you want to do!

Monday, June 6, 2016

Rain on the roof

That should be a metaphor for something, like snow on the eaves equals gray hair. But I can't think what, except maybe wet hair.

Is there a top to eaves? I always think of eaves as the underside of the overhanging roof. Now I'm confused.


It's raining, which seems so odd, but hasn't it rained at night here in this house before? I mean, since I moved in, obviously. I'm confused in general tonight, possibly! For no good reason, other than too much sun at the soccer games and staying up too late after getting up too early.

Things are so insanely cozy right now, it's hard to stop! I got the day bed set up crosswise in the spare room, instead of lengthwise. This room, man. It's awesome. It's not much wider than a twin bed is long. Maybe a foot. I have the teeny tv on top of the dvd player on a stool near the far end of the day bed, so I can lean against the wall at one end. It's all cushions and furry housepets and Leverage commentaries! And knitting. I'm knitting a pinwheel blanket, the kind I always knit for anyone who has a baby, if I have a ton of prep time, that is, because they take forever.

I just realized it sounds like I'm having a baby, which I am not! Goodness me. No indeed.

I *am* having nesty coziness, though. Nest nest!

Sloping room, cozy day bed, tv. This room is fast becoming my favorite place to be. It's a little maddening how much of the house I don't want to hang out in, but I think it's all for curable reasons. For example, the back room is wonderful during the day, but the lights are too dim unless it's bright sun out. I tried to change the bulbs in the ceiling fixture but could not find my light bulbs. I bought a box of four. They're here somewhere. But where? I looked all the places I could think of. Humph.

So we came upstairs instead. I had vague plans of sorting and organizing the quilting fabric, but then I was beat from today's exertions. Namely: working for a lot of hours, making pancakes, going to the niece and nephew's soccer games, getting a bunch of sun accidentally, playing in the playground with the children, discovering I must have some wacky inner ear issue because about ten seconds on the swings made me want to barf, buying cat treats, realizing I was so hungry the cat treats almost looked good, going to Five Guys for a cheeseburger and reading my Dorothy Sayers book there (awesome), working some more, walking the dog, and then now.

I feel like I spent the evening drinking. Alcohol, I mean. I did not! What is that about? Is that the inner ear also? I was trying to describe how the stairs go all telescoping fun house mirror on me and the best way I could think of to say it was, "It's like that shot in Vertigo." Which is when I realized: IT'S VERTIGO. I guess I have the vertigo, confirmed by the swings, because holy moly.

Maybe sun and french fries and failure to drink sufficient water gave me all the negative effects of alcohol without any of the positive ones, huh? I'm on this diuretic which is basically a hangover in a pill, if I'm not careful. It's great, though. My shoes fall off!

Some bug bit me right on the cheekbone, gave me a huge lump right over some nerves in my jaw or something, I don't know--the effect is a lot like dental numbing. I have no idea how something bit me on the face without my noticing. I was outside a lot yesterday, though, because I washed the dog, so we sat out on the deck until he dried off a lot. After I made spaghetti sauce, I went to take a shower and there was a wide streak of dried blood down my face from the bug bite.

So something bit me and then, what, I bled a bunch from a hole in the face? And I didn't notice any of this? That is flipping weird.

Oh, my brains! I'm working on finishing this book, you know, the writing kind of finishing the book, and I just thought of a great way to set up a friendly antagonist against the main character, someone who sets her a task to fulfill an obligation. I think it might be the solution I've been looking for. Now that I've thought it through for the whole book, it's seriously annoying to me that the book does not match my new ideas. Like, keep up!

I only have to write forty pages or something to finish this draft. Then I can do the big changes. Never stop and do big changes before finishing your draft or you will feel like you are building the staircase halfway up it.

The obvious solution is to stop thinking about those big changes and just put my head down and write to the end of this thing. Just write it! We are reaching the end of a block of work at work so I'm going to tear into that and get it all finished, and then try really hard to finish the draft writing in time to go off to school. In short order. Ah!

Nephew reminded me today that they lent me the latest Star Wars movie and I haven't watched it yet, so I'm putting that on my mental schedule for very soon so I can return it.

And then I have to pack. Pack! Do laundry, get a mirror up here so I can see which outfits work and which do not, and pack a big blue suitcase, man. Mostly I'm torn about my quilt. I would love to take my quilt, but I'd have to carry it on with me since I'm for sure not checking it. And that just feels a little too security blanket for me. Even though it obviously IS one. Well, I don't know.

Waffle, waffle, waffle! That's it, I'm making waffles. As soon as I eat up all these pancakes. How do you make waffles, though? I mean I have the waffle iron the previous people left behind. And I have Joy of Cooking. Presumably with the two I can figure it out. I need to use up the eggs before scarpering. (Eggs Before Scarpering sounds like a whimsical British novel from the 1920s.)

You know what this room reminds me of? My dorm room at school from last summer! I hope I get good roommates this summer. I hope I get housing at all. I'm pretty sure they were supposed to send that out already, but I haven't heard. I mean, it's really soon. I hate to pester them, but on the other hand....

You know how I get when housing is uncertain! I will call them tomorrow. No, I will email them tonight. Yes! Okay.

All this going to school is excellent practice for someday traveling For Pleasure, with no moving truck, no pressure, no expectations from others, no school cafeteria consternation. Let's make a list of places I would go if it were possible and feasible and whatnot!

1. Norway for the northern lights, all up the coast and round about
2. Alaska
3. Newfoundland and Labrador (actually just up the road from here)
4. Iceland
5. the spot where Finland, Sweden, and Norway all meet in a lake
6. Tierra del Fuego
7. Chichen Itza
8. Estonia
9. Scotland, oops, move that up to about 3., including the Hebrides and Skara Brae and the Shetlands
10. Wales, oops, move that up too. And Ireland, heck! And England. I did this all wrong. Nothing against Tierra del Fuego but I would like to see the ancestral stomping grounds at some point.

This is how different things were in the 80s. The plane from Brussels landed in Heathrow and stayed there for an hour while picking up other passengers and dropping some off. They let us stay on the plane if we were going on. And they opened up the back doors for fresh air. So that's how much of England I have seen: one hour of Heathrow tarmac. At night. So, like, I've been there, technically? But I haven't actually been there.

Middle sized blue suitcase and I are hoping to remedy that some day reasonably soonish, I hope.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Go go go

Ooh, this is huge for me. Instead of quitting physical therapy and running as far away as I could, as fast as I could, and getting all traumatized about it (I left out what was actually wrong with that first visit) I called up and got switched to a female therapist and went to that appointment and it was AWESOME.

I even told her exactly what the dude did that skeeved me out and upset me. Another giant step for me-kind. I never do that. I suppose it would have been more awesome to tell the dude, but yuck.

Anyway so I get to have physical therapy and nobody gets to stop me. Yippee! New physical therapist agreed to tell me everything she was doing and explain what she does and why. In other words, no silently grabbing me and hurting me with no explanation. Jeez. No crossing of other boundaries. NONE OF THAT.

I can't yammer for long because I have to wash the dang dishes, which stubbornly refuse to wash themselves. I might need to bake a pumpkin pie at some point here. And possibly more noodles. I got these weird little waste of money quick Thai noodle things because I didn't realize they were just a dab of food. Quite annoying. Yet delicious! I might have to make another one. I'm super allergic to them, of course, so I should just give them away. But did I mention so delicious?

Yesterday after lovely new physical therapist I went to pick up a prescription and discovered, lo! An extra prescription I did not expect! Apparently my primary care physician who is a nurse got the results back from my x-rays, said Whoa or reasonable facsimile, and prescribed me massive painkillers.

It's true, the week and a half I went without painkillers was pretty much the worst week and a half in recent memory, as far as grimness and agony and difficulty moving and Dark Outlook. Which is just terrible for everyone else with chronic pain who can't take a massive horse pill like me and have it go away. I mean, it's just a big dose of ibuprofen in one pill. But apparently I'm all broken up with arthritis in my knees, ankles, feet, hips, sacroiliac joints, and back. And hands. I'm used to the hands. The rest of it is dramatically worse after my move last fall and then again this spring.

All that stuff means it's hard to sit, stand, lie down, bend, twist, hold still, tie your shoes, mow the grass, pat the dog, or even stick to a chair for long. Turning over in bed was excruciating.

I need to move a lot more because that helps, but I couldn't because it hurt so bad and everything was all locked up. During today's dog walk I was able to skip and amble and in other ways behave like a bipedal primate with mobility skills.

Arthritis, man! So I'm all about the anti-inflammatory diet and whatnot. I mean, once I've eaten up the second dab of Thai food that I'm allergic to, heh heh.

I seem to be constantly running these days. I wonder why? I don't have more to do than before. Do I? I guess there are more places I can go and more things to do. Concert last night, the kids were singing. Groceries! Physical therapy! Prescriptions! Taking dog fun places for fun walks! Gosh! The result is that the house is not fully unpacked after a month (eh, so what) and I need to vacuum again and the dishwasher needs to be emptied and the dryer is full of clothes to fold and I need a shower after mowing the grass and it's already 8:00 in the p.m.!

Where am I gonna hang up all my bunches of awesome pictures in blue frames? I don't know either! They're all over the table. We shall see!

Right, a call-in show just came on the radio so I'm definitely out of here. Motivation to get up and get going!