Bleagh.

I have returned Love in the Time of Cholera to Audible. It got too dark for me, and too sexual. I also returned I'll Show Myself Out, because there were two F-bombs in the first 13 minutes, which did not bode well. I've fired up another book by Arthur C. Brooks, because I liked the first one so much.

In other reading news, I've begun the second volume in the Hell's Library trilogy, after having re-read the first, and I am enjoying it immensely. After work last night, I betook myself to Rockfish for a celebratory dinner. While I got drowsy several times during the day, I didn't actually nod off. I had crab cakes with remoulade sauce, a cup of clam chowder, and garlic bread with marinara sauce to dip it in (which concept had never occurred to me, and it is definitely an upgrade to an old favorite).

I am waiting for a text from the yard dudes, who are swinging by sometime this morning to give me an estimate on removing several volunteer trees from the front yard. I'm putting off getting fully dressed until I get that text. The pecan tree will need trimming before the end of the summer; otherwise the weight of the pecans will cause at least one limb to impede access to the sidewalk.

What I would *really* like to do, right now, is to turn off the lights and go back to sleep. I did sleep reasonably well last night, and I'm still tired.

I had to laugh at myself the other day. The supporting information arrived so that I could re-submit a couple of expenses which were denied for reimbursement. My doctor included "hypertension" in his notes, and I said to myself, "I don't have high blood pressure. I have low blood pressure." And then I remembered that the last several times my BP has been measured, it has been elevated. Ergo, hypertension. Of course, it came right back down again.

Time to go stick my nose in a book.                                            

Somewhere between a demitasse spoon and a mason jar's worth.

Of what? you ask. Relief. Pure, sweet, simple relief. I noticed after the fact that the eight steps up from the parking level to the entry into our building had not caused my crabby hip to burst into flames. Same for the eight steps down at the end of the day, although historically down is hard on my ankles and knees, while up is hard on my hip and my lungs. I called the facility and left a quick message for my therapist.

In reading news, I've completed the re-read of The Library of the Unwritten. Tomorrow I'll begin the second book in the series, The Archive of the Forgotten. Theoretically, I could go back out to Diana and read until it gets dark, but that would involve putting on pants and a bra and shoes, and I'd rather not.

What I need to be doing, is beginning my talk for church on Sunday. A member of the bishopric caught me as I was leaving the facility last night and asked if I would speak on meekness and humility. I roared with laughter. Apparently I will be standing at the pulpit, talking to myself.

I love my Heavenly Father's sense of humor.

MMMassage!

I have another one booked for next week. As I drove home in a downpour, I could feel all the little freshly-released trigger points itching because of improved circulation. I think I'll be going every week to ten days for awhile, and then back off to twice a month. Eventually I'd like to only need it once a month. And at some point I want to try a facial. Maybe that will be an extra treat, beyond the dinner out for the three of us that is scheduled when the mortgage drops below $15K. I would also like to try the hot stone session. That will have to be after my muscles and joints are behaving as properly as they can given my mileage. She worked quite a bit on the hand that went into spasm yesterday. It threatened to cramp up on me again this morning, and I can still feel some residual crabbiness there.

Work was pleasant and productive today. I got most of the emails wrangled and a number of To-Do's to-did. I heated a can of white bean chili for dinner and can feel my body happily winding down for the day. Second load of laundry is in the washer. I'm torn between reading for an hour and watching something on Prime. Plus, I need to drink a ridiculous amount of water before crashing, which will guarantee at least one skip to the loo in the middle of the night.

Night, y'all.

 

Today was deliberately restful.

I took Middlest to his dental appointment, then dashed up to my PCP's to pick up additional documentation for a reimbursement claim which was denied. I brought him home and took Fourthborn to upgrade her phone.

I cooked the meatloaf and mashed potato dinner from Costco and savored half of my share while finishing my online friend Ashley's new novel on my Kindle.

I went on to read a short story by Margaret Atwood. I greatly enjoyed the first 95% of it and was disgusted by the completely unnecessary F-bombs in the last few pages. I have since returned the book.

I took a lengthy nap, have worked tomorrow's Atlantic crossword, and am waiting for midnight to play Wordle. After which, I intend to go back to bed.

I realize that some of you may not think this a particularly restful day, but all of the outside errands were completed before noon, and I have been a happy introvert since then.

Catching up, more or less

I'm about halfway through Love in the Time of Cholera and still enjoying it. I'll warn you: there's some wedding-night sensuality, and my blushing mechanism is still running at 100%.

Had my third iron infusion on Monday afternoon, and I'm starting to perk up again. Today I went to in-person church, and I only started getting drowsy toward the very end of the hour.

Best thing before church (other than making it there on time, by the skin of my teeth) was being greeted by a young friend whose face lit up when she saw me, and the toddler girl two rows ahead of me who grinned and said, "HI!" even though she's never seen me before. Best thing after church was visiting with my friends Sarah and Jacob. I love them both *so much* for no particular reason other than they are great kids, and the love is mutual. There are just people who get you, and you get them, and it makes a bright spot in the road which we call life. We chatted there, all of us masked out of mutual respect, and I told them that I wished I could scoop both of them up and tuck them into my heart.

Thursday night I got to see the dress rehearsal of the play that Sarah is in. She's currently playing Truvy in a local production of Steel Magnolias, and every member of the cast was as brilliant and perfect as she. I have been wanting to see her act for several years, but the plague got in the way, and last summer there was Lark's wedding.

I read this article this afternoon and posted it on FB with some commentary. ("I've done personal therapy, couples therapy, family therapy, and more personal therapy, all of which helped and blessed me in one way or another. I had a couple of booster-shot sessions just before the pandemic which reassured me that I had my head on straight. It might be time for another couple of sessions, to help me put my past and present health challenges and their effects on my life as a whole, into context.")  In proof-reading before posting, I had that brief prickle of tears that is one way in which the Spirit speaks to me. And then the brief impression that even more than a therapy booster shot, I need a massage, and I need it SOON. So I pulled up another window, found a Massage Envy that is on my way home from work, and booked a massage for Tuesday immediately after work.

Hugs from the bipolar bears and my other children are wonderful and they do not begin to address my hunger for touch. Since Beloved is not allowed to make conjugal visits ~ he did show up in one of my dreams yesterday, but as usual we were working together on some project, and while I was attempting to get him alone for something a little more personal, he was focused on the task at hand, and then he walked out of the dream and I woke up.

a veryquickpost (I hope)

Because it's nearly 9:30, and I'm just finishing dinner, and I want to watch the conclusion of a series which is fascinating and well-made, and I'm not going to recommend it because of the F-bombs, of which there are a plethora. I just want to watch them de-fang the bad guys before I go to bed.

Foodie review: (1) the spinach and cheese cannelloni from Costco is delicious. Fourthborn and I both liked it for dinner last night, and I had my leftovers for lunch today. There's too much spinach in it for Middlest's taste. (2) the meatloaf and mashed potatoes from Costco are even better. That was tonight's dinner and will be my lunch tomorrow. (3) Middlest and Fourthborn tried the pasta salad today, and both enjoyed the flavor; however, something in there gave Fourthborn an achy mouth afterwards. I haven't tried it yet, but I suspect that it will be something for Middlest and me to split as a karma-balancer against the cannelloni.

I'm enjoying Love in the Time of Cholera. I commented elsewhere that so far it feels rather like Jane-Austen-goes-to-Bogota-instead-of-Bath. Lots of irony. More than a few laugh-out-loud moments. The descriptions of the sanitary conditions which I heard on tonight's drive home were almost enough to put me off my feed for the evening. You might want to skip that part if you're reading ~ it's brief, but realistic and gross ~ or go la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you if you're listening to the audio version.

No more typing for me tonight. I'm officially *done* with hyphens for one day.

Toujours, et al

One of the side effects of bingeing four seasons of Balthazar is that random French words and phrases pop into my head often and out of my mouth more frequently than usual, to the bewilderment of my bipolar bears.

Toujours = always, but it can mean ever or still

Tous les jours = every day, or everyday

Toute la journée = all day

I don't remember thinking about these subtleties when I was learning French in high school, or when I was resurrecting it after 9-1-1.

I have to wait until next March for the fifth and final series of Balthazar.  Insert crabby growl ici.

In Mother's Day news, zero zip zilch nada sign of the usual yearly neurosis regarding same. Fourthborn and I had dinner at Firstborn's with 1BDH, Willow, and my BFF'S eldest, who has just returned from a girls' trip to Paris with her siblings, aunt, niece, and BFF

I've slept a lot this weekend. I'll be resuming the position shortly, but the Atlantic daily crossword puzzle drops in about two minutes, and I'm hoping to end the day in a blaze of glory.

 

Wednesday was not a good day.

I successfully fought drowsiness while driving through fog to work, arriving in the garage at ten minutes past the hour. Backed Diana into her parking space, turned off the engine, gathered up my stuff to exit, and woke up half an hour later.

I continued to fend off drowsiness for much of my workday, waking thoroughly just in time for a blessedly uneventful drive home.

I'd had labs drawn on Tuesday morning for yesterday's appointment with my hematologist. Reviewed the results with him, and I'll be getting a third iron infusion. Hemoglobin and hematocrit are about where they were last August. I also have thrombocytosis (elevated platelets). I envision my weary red blood cells as emaciated French waiters, each bearing aloft a tray loaded with platelets.

From the doctor's office I drove down to La Madeleine, where I was meeting a work friend for lunch, which was lovely. I came home and went almost immediately back to bed, where I slept for several hours. Got up and ate half of my share of Caesar salad. Watched an episode or two of Balthazar. Went back to bed a little after midnight and slept fitfully for maybe four hours.

I've taken my vitamins and eaten some breakfast and finished a partial bottle of water. The French waiters are demanding a post-prandial nap.

 

From Strength to Strength

This is a magnificent book, read by the author, who is most engaging. He's one of my favorite columnists in Atlantic, and I will be referring back to this book often. I've also put a couple more on my wishlist for later.

Next audiobook, however, will be Love in the Time of Cholera. I've heard it praised for years but until now had little to no interest in reading a translation.

Last night I ordered the most recent, most comprehensive editions of French for Dummies and Spanish for Dummies. Have I mentioned that one of my young friends at work is fascinated by other languages, French in particular? He is fluent in Spanish and English. I asked him if he'd be open to our teaching one another. He is. The books will make sure that I don't inadvertently teach him something incorrect just because it's been more than half a century since I studied French in high school and more than twenty years since I decided to resurrect my high school French by reading Le Livre du Mormon and singing Les Cantiques. I also need to acquire Spanish editions of the scriptures for my study here at home.

But tonight I'm going to hide in my room and watch at least two episodes of Balthazar. It's very French. Occasional flashes of the odd breast here and there, and loving expositions of the good doctor working out in at least every other episode. Whatever the French equivalent of "a six-pack" is, he has it, vraiment! Also, zut alors!

I really should be asleep now (again).

I finished Reading Lolita in Tehran Friday night. My next non-digital book will be volume two in the Hell's Library trilogy, The Archive of the Forgotten. I'd planned on beginning it yesterday, but I needed to swap out the lamps in my bedroom, both of which have ceased to function. I extricated the two in the living room which have stood idle since we set up my work-from-home office two years ago and needed the outlets for my laptop and peripherals.

They provide less light than the bare 100W bulbs of the other lamps. (I like BRIGHT! So sue me.) And the base of one has begun to disintegrate. But they will do for now.

Sleep has been problematic. I went to bed about 1:00am yesterday and slept fitfully until 9:00. While playing my usual AARP wake-up games at this computer, I kept dozing off. I finally gave up and went back to bed and slept until about 5:00. Woke up with an extremely full bladder after a series of bizarre and inappropriate dreams. We were living in the old house. The kids were mostly adults but also kids, and their father was in and out of the house (just enough to be annoying), although we were no longer married and I was widowed from Beloved. In the dream, I went clubbing with friends and started feeling frisky and ended up engaging in consensual romps with thankfully nobody I know in real life, to their content but not my own. A bunch of us drove back to the house, coming in around 5:00, and I sent the guys off to a nonexistent spare room to sleep it off while I chased a toddler who refused to stay in bed.

The last thought I remember from that dream was, "I'm going to have to explain this to Beloved and to my bishop."

I miss the daily, incidental touch even more than I miss playing mommy and daddy with Beloved. The bipolar bears are good about giving hugs if I ask, and sometimes they will say, "I think you need a hug. Is now a good time, or do you want a rain check?" One of the blessings of living with empaths. I'm not feeling lonesome at the moment, but my skin is hungry for him. And I miss his laughter and his mischief and his cooking.

Right now I feel as if I am serving a senior mission, and my mission field is a party of two: my beloved bipolar bears. I am so grateful that Heavenly Father has entrusted them to me. I have several temporal goals that I want to achieve in the years that remain to me. And I am feeling this mortal body slow, and my thoughts go deeper, and Home seems just a bit nearer.