Packing up
Thanks to the miracle of drugs, I actually got off the couch today.
[Aside: Yesterday I phoned my doctor’s office first thing in the morning to say, “Hello, how are you? I am quite ill and my face is about to explode, so perhaps I could come pay you $15 to give me some lovely drugs?” and I thought this was very clever of me, given the upcoming long weekend and all. Alas, if I was clever, so was everyone else in the tri-state area; I was told in no uncertain terms that they were booked solid, as was every other partnering health provider, and I should try some saline nasal spray and call back over the weekend to the doctor on call if my fever exceeded 102. I found it touching that their plan of care was to dump all their patients on whoever is covering for the practice this weekend, and then called Medical Professional Friend and whined until she called in a prescription for me. Moral of the story: MPF is worth her weight in gold, and my new, “better” doctor’s office operates almost exactly like the old doctor’s office.]
So. Today. I decided Christmas is over. read more…
This is my brain on daytime television
So, hi. I have been busy cooking my eyeballs in delicious virus juices and also watching an awful lot of “30 Minute Meals” and “Flip That House” and occasionally some “Little House on the Prairie” because that way I can get the children to come lie on the couch with me and keep me warm.
All of which is fascinating, I know. I’m, like, the only person in the ENTIRE WORLD to ever get sick. Right? Right?? No? Oh. Well, then.
So far my favorite part of this illness was my mother telling me I should’ve gotten a flu shot, and I told her I DID get a flu shot, and she said then I couldn’t be sick. I said I definitely was sick, but it’s just a cold, and she said it couldn’t be a cold if I had a fever, and then my brain exploded. That was helpful. read more…
Not a bad metaphor, actually
Tonight we have two choices for scintillating posts: Either the story of the Christmas cake or a self-pitying whinefest about how our planned trip was called off, Chickadee is only slightly better, I am now sick, and Monkey was looking pretty peaked in front of his dinner. (Which would—in and of itself—not be so bad, except that his demeanor didn’t change when I removed the pasta and gave him ICE CREAM. Gee, do you think he’s sick?)
Yeah, I think the Christmas cake story is the obvious choice. read more…
Everybody sing!
She’s hot-blooded
dunno if we’ll come
she’s got a fever of 101….
And there you have the conversation I had with my father this afternoon, albeit with fewer guitar riffs.
Merry Christmas! Here’s a child burning up with fever for you. As a consolation, she is quite amusing when sick. For example, she was staring at my earrings earlier and asked if they were edible. (I was wearing my tiny gingerbread men earrings, because I am fancy.) I said no, but they’re fun anyway. And then she insisted she wasn’t talking about my earrings, but my FRECKLES. Well, those aren’t edible either, I told her. Then she laughed and laughed. read more…
Merry Christmas and happy gingerbread
The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, and I am off-duty for anything even resembling home repair until next week. Can I get an AMEN? Yes. Thank you.
Merry Christmas to you and yours. This is my favorite time of year… such a good reminder that all things are possible. Heck, I know if you’d told me LAST Christmas where I’d be THIS Christmas, I would’ve asked what you were smoking.
The chocolate chip gingerbread recipe pictured here is below the fold. (Sorry for the delay; had to ask the owner if it was okay for me to post.) Enjoy! read more…
Sleighbells, mistletoe, and renovation
We’re having a jolly old Yuletide here at Casa Mir. It’s going exactly as you might expect, only moreso.
After one week of constant togetherness and endless projects and mess, I am pleased to report that Otto and I still like each other. (Though we naturally assume that other people would be unable to maintain this level of conviviality, mostly because we do not want to imagine anyone else taking a break from caulking to have sex.) (Not that we would ever do that.)
In fact, we have Flip That House on right now and when the announcer said, “Doug and Cindy are on week 2—” Otto followed with, “and they’re no longer speaking to each other!” (My advice to Doug and Cindy: Step away from the caulk for a while.) read more…
Ottomatic for the evening
Love Thursday: Thanks
Love is having a long day, dealing with wallpaper that won’t behave and contractors who will but still take way too long to do finish, fielding several meltdowns and endless whining, and then remembering that tomorrow is the last day of school before break and teacher gifts must be readied.
Love is patting yourself on the back for having everything bought ahead, and packing up the gift bags, and then remembering that—thanks to various “help” and “testing” and “special sessions”—you should, by rights, be gifting quite a few of the support staff as well. Possibly with large sums of cash.
Love is having cursed your kitchen the previous night, and being tired and having work to do and laundry to put away and floors to clean, but whipping up half a dozen loaves of chocolate chip gingerbread, anyway, because when you can’t give cash, you give chocolate.
Love is being very grateful to have half a dozen extra folks to bake for because they care about your kid.
Happy Love Thursday, everyone.
Lasagna amnesia
Otto called me over to the couch, a little while ago, and I sat down next to him for a moment or two. Then I went a little slanty and finally figured, what the hell, and lay down with my head on his leg. I’m tired, and his leg is a pretty good pillow.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, running his fingers through my hair and making me sleepy.
“No problem,” I replied.
And then we both burst out laughing. read more…
There’s a toilet in my shower
Operation: Disembarrass Upstairs Master Bath (DUMB for short) has begun. I may not survive the week.
My plan was to lounge around in my dressing gown, watching soap operas and eating bonbons all day, while my contractor made it all pretty up there. Hey, I already bought a ton of tile! My work should be done, now. Sheesh.
Alas, the fact that I’ve never once lounged with bad daytime television and chocolate should’ve clued me in to the impossibility of my dream, even if I had conveniently managed to repress every past home repair I’ve ever had. read more…