Posts

Unwell

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I’ve been sick for over a month now. Since August, my asthma has been overly sensitive, then I got a cold and can’t seem to fully recover. I’ve cough so much I nearly pass out because I can’t stop—and actually have passed out (once last year when I had RSV, and the other night. I started coughing then woke up on the ground). Laughing causes the same result so I must be careful. My head hurts from coughing all the time.  Since breathing is compromised, I have zero energy. I have a nice stool at work on which to sit but getting things done around the house is nearly impossible. Taking the trash up and back absolutely winds me. I have one day off, like today, and all I want to do is sleep.  “ . . . to die, to sleep; No more; and by a sleep, to say we end The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep, To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death, what dreams may c...
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Bad Cold by Shel Silverstein

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  This cold is too much for my shortsleeve. Go get me a Kleenex--and fast. I sniffle and wheeze And I'm ready to sneeze And I don't know how long I can last.... Atchoo--it's to wet for a kleenex, So bring me handkerchief, quick. It's--atchoo--no joke, Now the handkerchief's soaked. Hey, a dish towel just might do the trick. Atchoo--it's too much for bath towel. There never has been such a cold. I'll be better off With that big tablecloth, No--bring me the flag off the pole. Atchoo--bring the clothes from the closet, Atchaa--get the sheets from the bed, The drapes off the window, The rugs off the floor To soak up this cold in my head. Atchoo-- hurry down to the circus And ask if they'll lend you the tent. You say they said yes? Here it comes--Lord be blessed-- Here it is--Ah-kachoooo--there it went.
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Welcome, October

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 “The skies they were ashen and sober;        The leaves they were crispéd and sere—        The leaves they were withering and sere;  It was night in the lonesome October        Of my most immemorial year;  It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,        In the misty mid region of Weir—  It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,        In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.” (First stanza of “Ulalume” by Edgar Allen Poe)
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Down time

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A beautiful day for coffee and journaling on the back porch. So grateful for a day off!
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Green, meet Brown

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Amazing

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 I’ll be honest. I’m still mourning Ozzy. So much in my life was shaped by him. He was an awesome person. 
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My 80-Something Year Old Dad got Married!

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The pics posted in backward order. 
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Phoenix Photo Dump

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Phoenix Bound

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Flying over beautiful New Mexico (God’s Country), on the way to a much, much, very extremely overdue vacation. . . And I’m officiating my Dad’s wedding. 
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I’m Not ok Just Yet

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Gettin’ My Hair Did

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 Getting kinda hippie . . . 
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Thank you, Ozzy

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 You can rest now.  Perhaps on of the most important songs by Black Sabbath
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The Kiss

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  “Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up in bed, and tried to gather together the floating images in his mind and to combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. He soon fell asleep, and his last thought was that someone had caressed him and made him happy—that something extraordinary, foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into his life. The thought did not leave him even in his sleep. When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just as the day before.” The Kiss By Anton Chekhov (1860–1904)
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The Difference One Hour Makes

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  “There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.” The Story of an Hour By Kate Chopin (1850–1904)
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Homesick

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  “There is an unchanging, silent life within every man that none knows but himself, and his unchanging, silent life was his memory of Margaret Dirken. The bar-room was forgotten and all that concerned it, and the things he saw most clearly were the green hillside, and the bog lake and the rushes about it, and the greater lake in the distance, and behind it the blue lines of wandering hills.” Home Sickness By George Moore (1852–1933)
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