Now, don't hold your breath. But I am going to attempt to write an entry this evening that makes some sort of sense. My track record hasn't been the best lately.
I have a good excuse, tho. The medication I've been taking for my is-it-ever-going-to-end
bladder infection renders me nauseous and about 10 eggs short of a dozen. Cracked eggs, that is. I am functional because, outside of a couple days last week when I was really knocked out by all this, I've been taking care of my little grandsons anywhere from 10 1/2 to around 12 hours per day. How I've been doing it, I really can't tell you. I guess when you know people depend on you, you just do it! That's what Nike tells us, any way. I was also raised by a dad who never let my being female be any kind of an excuse for weakness or anything else. I was the only girl in a household with 3 brothers and it was pounded in to my head from as far back as I can remember, "You can do anything your brothers can!" Actually, for a man of his generation, that was very 'progressive' advice. And I managed to keep right up there with them thru our childhoods. I even bypassed them in adulthood...I gave birth! Twice, even!
Today I went to the doctor with the high hopes I'd be fine, fine, fine. No more pills. No more orange pee. No more anything. I am sick unto death - well, not death but if you'd spent as much time as I have in doctor's offices the past couple of years, you know what I mean. I just wanted him to say, "Everything's well!" ***Sigh*** Nope. Two more weeks of these pills but only half-doses, thank goodness, so I'll only be sick-feeling half a day instead of all day. Ha. Oh well. He said I don't need to come back again at the end of the two weeks. I really should be well with 2 more weeks of these horrible, rotten pills in my system. I better be, that's all I can tell you.
I came home. I went for a nice walk. I had a good dinner. I'm sitting here with a beautiful evening skyscape outside my dining room windows, listening to "my Annie". I love Annie Lennox. I'm listening to "Bare", one of my all-time favorite CDs. Along with "Diva". The lady can sing. But you know what's funny? As much as I love to listen to her, I can't stand to watch her sing? Isn't that crazy? Another singer who hits me the same way is Peter Cetera who used to be one of the main lead singers of "Chicago". Issssshhhhhhhhh. I saw them in concert once and he drove me crazy. Just like I can't stand to watch people chew crackers or peanut butter sandwiches with their mouths open.
Speaking of that, am I the only person in the world who will publicly admit to being totally repulsed by a child?!? Me, who loves the world's children like they're my own...just ask all the thousands of middle schoolers I 'babied' for 7 years. Anyway...years ago I used to take my kids, before they started school, out to lunch once or twice a week at a little neighborhood Arctic Circle restaurant...remember that chain?? It hasn't been called that for years and years now. But there used to be a little boy who'd come in with a woman I'm assuming was his grandma for lunch every now and then, too. And there was something about this little boy...what, I don't know...that was almost more than I could bear. I would sit and watch him with repulsed fascination while he ate...I couldn't help myself. He had such a weird way of eating. I can't explain it. And this sounds totally lunatic-al, doesn't it? I should quit while I'm ahead. But, honestly, has anyone else ever had this happen to them???
Two weeks from now I know I'm going to come back and read all these half-cooked entries and most likely delete every one of them out of morbid embarrassment. Oh well. Right now I've got the urge to write and that's just the way it is. And you're lucky enough to get to read them!