Staycation II
History of last week and plans for this week under the cut. Includes medical/health discussion, carefully TMI-free.
I was sick all last week, and am still not recovered. I hate being sick. I hate being away from work. I especially hate daytime TV.
I had one hell of a sore throat that started late the Friday before. That Friday night, Marvin and I agreed that we'd try to teach Pertwee and Davison, at least, to sleep with us - we had tried Colleen in the bedroom again, and she had messed the bed again. We would alternate the boys, one in the main house with us and the other in the second bedroom with Colleen. Friday was Davison's night; he did well, eventually settling down on a comforter I'd left on a folding table. That Saturday night we had Pertwee, the compulsive washer. I'd been half-woken several times that night to his washing my face, and I felt him get my eye before I pulled the sheet over my head. Sunday I began having trouble with that eye. By Monday I was a miserable heap o'mess, blind for all practical purposes in my left eye, running a fever, and unable to swallow.
I managed to make it to the doctor, though, and then to CVS to get prescriptions filled for antibiotics. I realize now how stupid I was to take those buses by myself in a half-blind state, but I didn't want anyone else with me. By Wednesday morning, there was great improvement in my eye and I forestalled it spreading to my right with a half-dose of the eye drops. Antibiotics weren't helping my throat, and I began taking Tylenol; I sent Brian for some cough drops and Popsicles. I had no appetite. I was running a low-grade fever. It wasn't until yesterday that I woke up with some improvement in my throat. I was home from work all week; I had enough sick and vacation time, Teaspoon e-mailed me instructions on how to get into my e-mail from home, Jewel and River admirably rose to the occasion at the office, and I covered emergencies from home Friday.
Meanwhile, I e-mailed J that I wanted to forego my planned vacation for this week and come back to the office. She answered not to worry, things would all get covered and to take my vacation time as planned. In the end, I agreed with her: November and December are coming up, and my whole idea was to take vacation now so that I could be there when everybody else wants to go. Thanksgiving week and Christmas week usually run on a skeletal crew. This year, all three of my co-workers are likely to want some time off: River has a school-aged daughter; Jewel usually takes some time; and J is likely to want some time home with her boys. They were there for me, I will be there for them.
It's just as well, I'm still not feeling well. My throat was sore again last night, I'm tired, I'm still running a bit of a fever.
Today when Brian goes to CVS to get me some prescription refills, I'm going to ask him to get me a gallon of skim milk. He's allergic to milkfat, so we always drink skim. At least, we did when we used to drink milk. I'm going to start drinking 3 glasses of milk a day again: everyone knows that post-menopausal women generally don't get enough calcium. But I think it will help with my chornic pain as well. See, one night last week I channel-surfed into Discovery Health's program about the Brookhaven obesity clinic. I saw a gentleman of about 500 pounds, in treatment at the clinic, unable to be moved to the gym because of severe, chronic pain. Diagnosis: vitamin D deficiency. Rickets. Treatment: he's on severe calorie restriction, so he couldn't drink a whole lot of even skim milk; but they gave him high doses of vitamin D until he improved. It took time, of course, but eventually he was able to get to the gym, and under his own power. Milk! If it turns out that my bones aren't as good as I thought they were, milk will help them. I'll be able to walk properly, perhaps even walk more. Milk is filling, so maybe I can substitute it for meats and/or make do with reduced portions - food is getting so expensive anymore. Milk is nutritious. I'm pinning my hopes on milk. I'll even bring some to work each day so that I can have some with lunch. (paints on a white "got milk?" mustache)
We've got no money to do anything this week. As soon as I feel better, I'm going to early-vote. There's an Obama march today, but I'm not up to it, as much as I love a good march. There are political analysts that say that central Florida could well swing the election. I'm still peeved that the major Democratic candidates did not campaign in Florida prior to the primaries, and especially peeved that the DNC still has the balls to ask for my money - BIG misstep, if you ask me. Obama has my vote; he'd have me in the march if I were up to it. But in the primaries, it would have been Kucinich, the only Democrat to bother with Florida before the primaries; while Brian is a Clinton man. I hear a lot from Lila and Yoshi about the state of the Democratic party in Hillsborough County and Florida. Yoshi even invited me to go see Sarah Palin with her yesterday:
Lila and I are going to try and score some tickets to see ole "Drill, Drill, Drill" herself when she's at the convention center on Sunday morning, do you want to go if we can pull it off? I figure the biggest problem, well other than getting tickets, is keeping a straight face and trying to look like Republicans (Lila, pull out the pearls; Donna, I think you'd look adorable in an "up-do").
I often wind my hair up and clamp it unceremoniously behind my head; Lila and Yoshi are familiar with my brown up-do, bangs, and glasses. Lila has a set of pearls she inherited from her grandmother. I think even in our best dresses, we'd have a problem looking like Republicans. Even if we could pull it off, no, I don't think we could keep straight faces - all I'd have to do is look at Lila, she'd know exactly what I was thinking, and we'd fall all over each other laughing. We'd make a er, spectacle of ourselves. I admire ole Drill-Baby-Drill for her chutzpah, but that's about all.
We have some TV to catch up on, almost a whole season of "Eureka." I've been watching the World Series too, the first time in my life I've ever actually been interested in it, because the Cubs have never gone during my lifetime. The Rays are down three games to one, and could be finished off tonight in Philly. If the worst happens and they don't get back to St. Pete, I'd still be glad for the season they had. They're a young, well-managed team and could well be back in the Series next year. I'd love for them to play at the Trop one more time, because I like that place (been there twice, in fact) and I love the exposure St. Petersburg has been getting. St. Petersburg. I wasn't born there, but I grew up there and it is my hometown. If there were a speck of land in St. Petersburg that would be safe ground during a hurricane, and if I had a way across the bay to work, I would be living there. Not that I hate Tampa, I certainly don't; I've invested a lot in this city and am proud to live here, and am here to stay. But I took St. Pete for granted when I lived there and when I was able to get there driving. There are times when I miss it very, very much.
I've got a four-pack of AA batteries here somewhere, I should really use this time to take some photos of the cats. The kittens are almost unrecognizable from their kitten photos. Colleen still has that sweet, girly-girl look about her, and Davison is believable from some of the photos we already have. But you'd never believe that Pertwee is the same animal. Forget "almost," he's easily bigger than Guinne and Thea, and yesterday I thought he looked bigger than Cuckoo Clock. Biggest to smallest, the cats currently go Ace, Boq, Pertwee, Cuckoo Clock, Thea, Davison, Guinne and Colleen. We're already confusing Davie with Ace - they're both black and white tuxedos - and have nicknamed Davie "Deuce." We expect the adult Colleen to be about Thea's size. But Pertwee could grow to be our biggest cat. Proportionately, he has massive bones, large feet, and the hugest, bushiest tail I've ever seen on a cat. He's our first longhair, too; we're managing to brush or comb him a few days a week. All of our male cats get along well, they're definitely a Good Ole Boys club. The females tolerate each other, and each has a special relationship with at least one of the males. Lately, Colleen has taken to disarming Thea with kissy-eyes - Thea growls at her, Colleen does kissy-eyes, and Thea retreats. Guinne is more tolerant lately of the younger males, as long as they leave her in peace; she will usually allow Boq, Pertwee or Davison to curl up with her. Thea will only curl up with Cuckoo Clock or Ace.
...Anyway, where was I? So yes, this is what's been going on lately.
I was sick all last week, and am still not recovered. I hate being sick. I hate being away from work. I especially hate daytime TV.
I had one hell of a sore throat that started late the Friday before. That Friday night, Marvin and I agreed that we'd try to teach Pertwee and Davison, at least, to sleep with us - we had tried Colleen in the bedroom again, and she had messed the bed again. We would alternate the boys, one in the main house with us and the other in the second bedroom with Colleen. Friday was Davison's night; he did well, eventually settling down on a comforter I'd left on a folding table. That Saturday night we had Pertwee, the compulsive washer. I'd been half-woken several times that night to his washing my face, and I felt him get my eye before I pulled the sheet over my head. Sunday I began having trouble with that eye. By Monday I was a miserable heap o'mess, blind for all practical purposes in my left eye, running a fever, and unable to swallow.
I managed to make it to the doctor, though, and then to CVS to get prescriptions filled for antibiotics. I realize now how stupid I was to take those buses by myself in a half-blind state, but I didn't want anyone else with me. By Wednesday morning, there was great improvement in my eye and I forestalled it spreading to my right with a half-dose of the eye drops. Antibiotics weren't helping my throat, and I began taking Tylenol; I sent Brian for some cough drops and Popsicles. I had no appetite. I was running a low-grade fever. It wasn't until yesterday that I woke up with some improvement in my throat. I was home from work all week; I had enough sick and vacation time, Teaspoon e-mailed me instructions on how to get into my e-mail from home, Jewel and River admirably rose to the occasion at the office, and I covered emergencies from home Friday.
Meanwhile, I e-mailed J that I wanted to forego my planned vacation for this week and come back to the office. She answered not to worry, things would all get covered and to take my vacation time as planned. In the end, I agreed with her: November and December are coming up, and my whole idea was to take vacation now so that I could be there when everybody else wants to go. Thanksgiving week and Christmas week usually run on a skeletal crew. This year, all three of my co-workers are likely to want some time off: River has a school-aged daughter; Jewel usually takes some time; and J is likely to want some time home with her boys. They were there for me, I will be there for them.
It's just as well, I'm still not feeling well. My throat was sore again last night, I'm tired, I'm still running a bit of a fever.
Today when Brian goes to CVS to get me some prescription refills, I'm going to ask him to get me a gallon of skim milk. He's allergic to milkfat, so we always drink skim. At least, we did when we used to drink milk. I'm going to start drinking 3 glasses of milk a day again: everyone knows that post-menopausal women generally don't get enough calcium. But I think it will help with my chornic pain as well. See, one night last week I channel-surfed into Discovery Health's program about the Brookhaven obesity clinic. I saw a gentleman of about 500 pounds, in treatment at the clinic, unable to be moved to the gym because of severe, chronic pain. Diagnosis: vitamin D deficiency. Rickets. Treatment: he's on severe calorie restriction, so he couldn't drink a whole lot of even skim milk; but they gave him high doses of vitamin D until he improved. It took time, of course, but eventually he was able to get to the gym, and under his own power. Milk! If it turns out that my bones aren't as good as I thought they were, milk will help them. I'll be able to walk properly, perhaps even walk more. Milk is filling, so maybe I can substitute it for meats and/or make do with reduced portions - food is getting so expensive anymore. Milk is nutritious. I'm pinning my hopes on milk. I'll even bring some to work each day so that I can have some with lunch. (paints on a white "got milk?" mustache)
We've got no money to do anything this week. As soon as I feel better, I'm going to early-vote. There's an Obama march today, but I'm not up to it, as much as I love a good march. There are political analysts that say that central Florida could well swing the election. I'm still peeved that the major Democratic candidates did not campaign in Florida prior to the primaries, and especially peeved that the DNC still has the balls to ask for my money - BIG misstep, if you ask me. Obama has my vote; he'd have me in the march if I were up to it. But in the primaries, it would have been Kucinich, the only Democrat to bother with Florida before the primaries; while Brian is a Clinton man. I hear a lot from Lila and Yoshi about the state of the Democratic party in Hillsborough County and Florida. Yoshi even invited me to go see Sarah Palin with her yesterday:
Lila and I are going to try and score some tickets to see ole "Drill, Drill, Drill" herself when she's at the convention center on Sunday morning, do you want to go if we can pull it off? I figure the biggest problem, well other than getting tickets, is keeping a straight face and trying to look like Republicans (Lila, pull out the pearls; Donna, I think you'd look adorable in an "up-do").
I often wind my hair up and clamp it unceremoniously behind my head; Lila and Yoshi are familiar with my brown up-do, bangs, and glasses. Lila has a set of pearls she inherited from her grandmother. I think even in our best dresses, we'd have a problem looking like Republicans. Even if we could pull it off, no, I don't think we could keep straight faces - all I'd have to do is look at Lila, she'd know exactly what I was thinking, and we'd fall all over each other laughing. We'd make a er, spectacle of ourselves. I admire ole Drill-Baby-Drill for her chutzpah, but that's about all.
We have some TV to catch up on, almost a whole season of "Eureka." I've been watching the World Series too, the first time in my life I've ever actually been interested in it, because the Cubs have never gone during my lifetime. The Rays are down three games to one, and could be finished off tonight in Philly. If the worst happens and they don't get back to St. Pete, I'd still be glad for the season they had. They're a young, well-managed team and could well be back in the Series next year. I'd love for them to play at the Trop one more time, because I like that place (been there twice, in fact) and I love the exposure St. Petersburg has been getting. St. Petersburg. I wasn't born there, but I grew up there and it is my hometown. If there were a speck of land in St. Petersburg that would be safe ground during a hurricane, and if I had a way across the bay to work, I would be living there. Not that I hate Tampa, I certainly don't; I've invested a lot in this city and am proud to live here, and am here to stay. But I took St. Pete for granted when I lived there and when I was able to get there driving. There are times when I miss it very, very much.
I've got a four-pack of AA batteries here somewhere, I should really use this time to take some photos of the cats. The kittens are almost unrecognizable from their kitten photos. Colleen still has that sweet, girly-girl look about her, and Davison is believable from some of the photos we already have. But you'd never believe that Pertwee is the same animal. Forget "almost," he's easily bigger than Guinne and Thea, and yesterday I thought he looked bigger than Cuckoo Clock. Biggest to smallest, the cats currently go Ace, Boq, Pertwee, Cuckoo Clock, Thea, Davison, Guinne and Colleen. We're already confusing Davie with Ace - they're both black and white tuxedos - and have nicknamed Davie "Deuce." We expect the adult Colleen to be about Thea's size. But Pertwee could grow to be our biggest cat. Proportionately, he has massive bones, large feet, and the hugest, bushiest tail I've ever seen on a cat. He's our first longhair, too; we're managing to brush or comb him a few days a week. All of our male cats get along well, they're definitely a Good Ole Boys club. The females tolerate each other, and each has a special relationship with at least one of the males. Lately, Colleen has taken to disarming Thea with kissy-eyes - Thea growls at her, Colleen does kissy-eyes, and Thea retreats. Guinne is more tolerant lately of the younger males, as long as they leave her in peace; she will usually allow Boq, Pertwee or Davison to curl up with her. Thea will only curl up with Cuckoo Clock or Ace.
...Anyway, where was I? So yes, this is what's been going on lately.