Christmas has already been completely ruined, and we still have five days before the actual holiday, so I'm thinking this is some sort of truly awesome record for Maximum Suck. The Plan was that the kids' dad would pick them up on Saturday to fly north; Otto and the dog and I were to follow the next day, driving up to my folks in New York; the kids would spend a week with their dad, we would work our way Boston-ward for Christmas, and then on Christmas Day we'd get the kids back, they'd have time to see the New England relatives, and we'd head back through my folks' place again on our way...
Feeling down? Stressed? Beset by flu and stupidity? Suffering from the heartbreak of psoriasis did-you-know-your-kid-is-autistic-itis? It may be time to take two pictures of a long-suffering little dog and apply directly to the eyeballs! (Fluffy puppy... apply to your eyesockets for immediate relief!) Happy Love Thursday, everyone---here's to whatever cheers you up in the midst of stress. (Sorry, Licorice. Extra rawhide for you!)
After nearly a week with everyone at home, it was with many yawns and heavy hearts that most of the family headed back to work and school today. I was sorry to see them go; this was, for me, one of our best holiday breaks ever. We didn't do anything. Seriously, it was a festival of sloth and all-day pajamas, most of the time. I was working through it, but that was fine. The kids relaxed. Monkey unwound a little. Chickadee worked on various school projects and slept late and chatted with her friends online. There was pie for breakfast, several times. For a few days I forgot that I was...
While I am busy grumbling that my dad and stepmom are here for such a short time and I still have to work and go here and there, they are perfectly content to amuse themselves and dote upon the dog. Licorice is clearly not enjoying herself in the slightest. I mean, sure, she normally spends the entire day sleeping under that futon and now she follows my parents around and jumps up to sit beside them and demand petting at every possible opportunity, but really, she's suffering on the inside. As are they. Obviously.
Allow me to preface the following, for my fellow worry-warts, with this: Licorice is fine. Thank goodness. Some of you who've been around a long time may recall that when we first met Licorice a year ago, she had quite a few health concerns. For one thing, she was half-bald (as in, her entire butt and a good portion of her legs were naked), and what had originally been thought to be mange turned out to be allergies, but even so, we were warned that she might never regrow her fur. She also had chronic ear infections, although thought to be a side effect of allergies and general neglect. I...
I am really feeling SO much better. It's funny how you don't realize exactly how fond you are of oxygen---and the partaking of it with unencumbered lungs!---until that part of your life is a bit hampered. It's been a long time since my asthma got aggravated like that, and I'd forgotten that the so-tired-and-achy feeling I was having often signals an inability to breathe. So. Definitely enjoying taking deep breaths, again, and trying to finish recovering from this stupid cold/allergy thing. HOWEVER. Oh, steroids. How you eat into the gunk in my lungs! And then on into my brain! I'm sure...
So today I was still sick, and like a responsible human who has been threatened by her husband if she doesn't call the damn doctor already I called my doctor and went in to chat with her about this little problem where it's become difficult to breathe, lately. To her credit, my doctor was a little alarmed about that. As I sat there and bemoaned the fact that I have really been working really hard on getting fit this year, I've lost weight and started exercising regularly and STILL I seem to get sick all the time... she looked at her computer and looked at me and helpfully offered, "You...
