Still only about a third of a person today, I fear.  Fortunately I didn’t have to do anything today, like ring bells or make bread or have a root canal,* so I could dodder along without feeling forced to notice that ‘dodder’ is a very good choice of verb.

I did manage to get out into the garden at least.  It’s not only not raining **, ( Read more... )

 
My stomach is better.  The rest of me . . . isn’t.  Sigh.  One of the splendidest pleasures of ME is the way the symptoms change.  It’s like, jeez, what’s the matter with me?  -Oh, right, ME.  In this case, this is a particularly achy manifestation.  This is what I’d be like if I ate lots of tomatoes all the time, I suppose, plus the sciatica ( Read more... )

  
I’m still a semi-person, although the semi-ness is sliding around to blast me from a new angle-as the Something of yesterday’s post retreats, the ME comes on again.  Which is what usually happens.  It’s almost like jealousy:  the ME rouses like an abusive lover, saying, hey, nobody’s allowed to hurt her but me.  Sigh.  Whatever it is, it’s so ( Read more... )

 
This entry comes to you via the wonders of modern homeopathy.  There’s apparently Something Going Round, the way somethings do, and I’ve had the uncomfortable impression that it’s been eyeing me thoughtfully for the last few days, contemplating its next move.  And then it was Peter who woke up this morning feeling icky.  He however is feeling ( Read more... )

 
Yes!  A sighting!  There really is a big blinding-bright thing in the sky that makes day like day instead of like night!  I thought it was a tribal myth!*

It’s particularly shocking, this sun thing, in the middle of the night.  I did go to bed early** but the alarm still went off like half past midnight.***  It seemed to me very ( Read more... )

 
GODS, DEMIGODS, AND SMALL THINGS THAT LIVE UNDER TOADSTOOLS, I AM SO SICK OF THIS FRICKING WEATHER.  Last night walking, or rather sloshing, home from tower practice-which takes all of about a minute and a half-I was thinking, if I had any food in the house I’d ring Peter and say I wasn’t coming.  Levering somnolent hellhounds out of their warm ( Read more... )

 
 I Create a Verb.  And an Adjective.  I’m sure many other people have created it before, but today I create it:  ratbagged, to be bewildered, disappointed and laid low by events beyond one’s control.  A bit like sandbagged only twitchier, with nasty gnawing rodent teeth.

In the first place, the weather.  It’s been one of those uber-ugly ( Read more... )

 
Out giving the hellhounds their last scamper this evening I walked past someone letting himself into his front door.  Well, presumably that’s what it was.  He certainly had the look of a minor cog in the middle management machine coming home after a bad day, and it was a minor-middle-management sort of boring little 1970s row house with that wrong ( Read more... )

 
Well, the car is running.  And the hellhounds are eating.*   And when I got to my Wednesday bell practise tonight I hadn’t forgotten everything after an entire week away.  (You don’t have bell practise in church towers during their Holy Week.)  Indeed we had a packed-out crowd-of mostly beginners.  So I got to be one of the Big Grown Up People Who ( Read more... )

 
Subj:

FW: Chalice bookseller review

Date:

24/03/2008 17:56:59 GMT Standard Time

From:

myeditor@enormouspublishingconglomerate.com

To:

somesillywriter@aol.com, myagent@somewhereinManhattan.com

CC:

myeditorsassistant@enormouspublishingconglomerate.com

Sent from the Internet (Details)

Hi Robin and Merrilee -- We just received this lovely email from one of
the ( Read more... )