The Worst of It

All in all, I’d have to say my recovery from my recent bout of illness is going pretty well, but it would be wrong to assume that I am completely unchanged. I’m not quite the person I once was. I’m a little weirder. I knew that it could happen. This disorder doesn’t discriminate between bodily systems. It’s an equal opportunity annoyer, but exactly how annoying came as a surprise.

The world is smaller, tiny, even. Someone has clearly been messing with the settings on my computer because I can no longer read my regular fonts. The same tricky little turd has also shrunk the labels on my medication bottles and every, single one of my books. I can’t read anything easily anymore.

I can’t keep my kids straight, either. I call the Padawan “Squish” and vice versa, and I call Girl-child by the cat’s name. I am unsure if this loss of cognitive function is entirely related to my illness, or if I’m just becoming my grandmother. Fortunately the kids are quick studies and have learned to respond to “Whatever your name is.” I’m thinking of having it embroidered on their Christmas stockings.

My spelling has gone to heck in a hand basket. I can’t quite orient myself on a keyboard, and often I look up and find that my brilliant treatise contains far more z‘s and x‘s than one might expect to find outside of Eastern Europe. The proper letters may even be there, but they are in a creative completely unrecognizable order. I’m trying to pass it off as Olde English. Are you buying?

I used to be modest. I wouldn’t even go barefoot in front of company. Now when we take a walk, it’s my husband’s responsibility to keep me from taking my pants off when the waistband of my shorts chafes my scarring and I forget that I’m standing in the school yard. When he says “For God’s sake, woman, put your clothes on! Think of the children!”  I understand he’s not rejecting me, he’s trying to keep me from getting arrested. It’s sweet, really.

But the worst of it is that for the first time in thirty years, I’m confusing my homophones. I don’t know if it’s a problem with visual perception, but I am no longer certain which word to use. They all look right write rite correct to me. A few times,  I have almost had to email sj to ask her if I had chosen the correct one when I was writing. Don’t ask me to take a high school English class right now because I would fail.

This too shall pass, right? But in the meantime, if you happen to be driving down the street and see some myopic old lady in her underwear, it’s probably me. Be sure to say “High!”

 

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Nature Is Weird

Remember my best decorating scheme ever? Things are happening there.

Click to enlarge. It’s insane!

Is she being eaten by parasitic aliens?

No, I think that lump is a LEG! Note how it’s eyes have moved to the top of it’s head.

Four days later, she has shed her skin, leaving her tail looking like a Labrador puppy’s. She is absorbing the tail, and she gets nutrients from it, so she won’t eat until it is absorbed.

The other tadpole. No real development here. For the moment, I’m calling it Pee Wee Herman.

 

My kid has the coolest teacher. Look what else is growing in her classroom!

Note the egg tooth on the end of its beak. The kids got to watch them hatch, too!

 

The One Where I Shock My Readers

You opened the post. I’m so glad I didn’t scare you away. Do you ever find comfort in the sameness of things, of knowing exactly what to expect, be it reading a blog or ordering your same vanilla latte every Friday morning from the same employee at the same little coffee shop? Yeah, me, too. And sometimes you walk in to that coffee shop on a Thursday, or that familiar face has been replaced by someone you’ve never seen before, and it’s jarring. The safe place has been compromised. Brace yourselves. The battlements have been breached.

You come here to see this:

Pyxis planicauda. One of the rarest of the Malagasy dwarf tortoises. Critically endangered. Hatched this week. You’re welcome.

 

But today, I bring you this. Click to enlarge them. I double-dog dare you!

Ears are closed

He is the only one who’s not black, so he is usually referred to as “White Boy.” I call him Vanilla Ice and expect he’ll play that funky music.

At the lunch counter

Black puppies are hard to photograph!

This is the little one. He’s tiny, and he doesn’t have a fingernail polish mark on his head. Small? Unmarked? I call him Bill.

 

I know. They’re mammals, not reptiles. Sometimes I need to shake things up.  I do hope you’ll forgive me.

 

*** Just so’s you know, these aren’t my puppies. I have the privilege of puppy-sitting for a friend. Photographing newborn puppies? Sure, twist my arm, why don’t you?

 

I Didn’t See That Coming.

My husband took me hiking on Mother’s Day. The big kids opted to stay home and watch Squish. Mostly so that they didn’t have to go. My Mother’s Day didn’t involve any actual children. I’ll unpack that guilt later. They bought me MoonPies and Junior Mints, so I know they love me. Back to the tale.

As we were hiking, I found a prickly pear cactus that had been squashed nearly flat by the bulldozer that blazed the trail. I never take anything from a park, but prickly pear, a favorite food of many tortoises, is non-native and invasive, so I didn’t feel the least bit guilty for breaking off a small section to take home.

Let me explain a little about me. Spring is in the air, and I have a physiological need to plant as many things as I can. I need to see things growing. If the seeds I planted yesterday aren’t growing yet, I’ll just plant some more. This sad little plant needed me. My hope was to get a bit of it into soil to see if I could get it rooted. It was the ultimate challenge.

Prickly pear. Look at those awesome spines. I wonder if it would keep the neighbors’ dogs from pooping in my flower bed.

2:00 pm Choose the piece with no large spines and put it in my pocket. Wonder if a little rooting hormone might give me a better chance at starting this plant.

2:01 pm  Begin to feel stinging in my leg. Whoa. I forgot I am wearing my Columbia switchbacks. My pocket is mesh. No worries .The spines are so small as to be nearly invisible. How much damage can they do? Wonder if big spines need to be removed before offering to tortoises at Zoo.

2:05 pm Stinging becomes rather uncomfortable. Remove it from my pocket, wrap it in a leaf, and slip it into an outside pocket. I can’t wait to get it home.

2:06 pm My finger is stinging. I can barely see the tiny spine embedded in my fingertip. Wow, this plant is good at defense! I scrape the spine away with a fingernail.

2:06:10 om Spine becomes embedded in the other finger. Good grief! I remove it and carefully wipe it on the ground.

2:08 pm Calf begins to sting as tiny spines are dislodged and work their way through my pants and down my leg. Feel like I am being eaten by fire ants. Check to make sure cactus bit is still nestled in its leaf wrapping.

2:09 pm Dislodge spines from my finger tips with more energy than is absolutely necessary. High-tail it back to car.

2:30 pm Remove cactus bit from pocket and look for something, anything, to wrap it in to get it home. Find box to throw it in. That should keep it safe.

2:31 pm Attempt to scrape spines from fingers and from legs. I vaguely wonder if any of these will penetrate my skin, travel through my bloodstream, and kill me dead. That would be bad.

3:00 pm Arrive home, carefully unwrap cactus bit without touching it and dump it in a pot of soil. Warn kids not to even look in its direction for the rest of their lives. Wash hands in hopes of removing remaining spines. Wonder why I didn’t just buy a potted prickly pear.

10:30 pm Undress for shower and realize that my left leg is still riddled with spines. Remove them to the best of my ability. Leg now looks like a golf course for bedbugs. Throw pants in wash to get rid of any remaining spines.

10:40 pm Remove spines that have relodged in fingertips.

7:00 am Take clean pair of jeans from closet and put them on.

7:01 am Remove pants to dislodge new spines that have somehow become embedded in my leg. When will this end?

Stupid cactus. It is the work of the devil. I hope it dies.

 

It’s A Phase, Right?

I am exhausted. Right now, every tiny thing turns into a senseless argument, even stuff that’s been part of the regular routine for the entire year. It’s a constant struggle to get things done. I don’t understand. My conversations go like this:

“Time to get up!”

“I don’t wanna!”

“Get up. Now”.

*screaming tantrum commences*

Or this:

“Here’s your lunch!”

“I’m not eating that.”

“You like carrots and broccoli. You love salad.”

“No. I want McDonald’s.”

“Forget it.”

*screaming tantrum commences*

Or even this:

“Time for walkies!”

“NO! I don’t wanna go!”

“C’mon! You love to go for walks!”

“No! I won’t!”

“Get up now!”

“NO! You can’t make me! I’m gonna sit here aaaallllll day long!”

“We’re going. Get up.”

*screaming tantrum commences*

I know logically that this phase will pass. One day, I will grow up and do the things that I know are good for me. One day.  But for now, don’t you tell me what to do!  Because I don’t wanna! You can’t make me!

I think I may need a time out, or a nap. They tell you about the Terrible Twos, but no one thinks to warn us about the Terrible Forties.

 

If the Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions…

I came home the other day and found a package on my doorstep. And it had my name on it. I hadn’t ordered anything, so it was completely unexpected. I checked the return address, and it was from one of my favorite people in the world. When it comes to surprise packages, I’m like a four year old. I ran inside (I did hold the door for my actual four year old, so I’m not totally thoughtless) and ripped into it. Turns out that the people I love know me and love me anyway.

It was a get-well package. I’m feeling better already.

And she said I don’t have to share. Which is good because I wasn’t going to. And now there’s no guilt.

I feel the love!

The road to hell  may be paved with good intentions, but it turns out that the road to recovery is paved with MoonPies.

 

It’s Not For Everyone, But It Rocked My World

I am always in search of the next great book. I found it. The best book I have read in 2013 (that’s the year, right? I’m a little out of sync.) Anyway, I’ve reviewed it over at sj’s place. Come over and take a peek. Please? It would make me so happy!