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okay; is he a vampire or is he a demon? 2002-10-02 Yuck, it's Hot today. I like living in a place that has nice spring and fall weather, but this is still summer weather, and I'm tired of it now. I'm feeling jealous of people who are writing in their diaries about being cold, because being cold sounds awful damn good right now. Maybe where we live next will have a normal-sized summer; not one that goes from April to late October. A girl can dream. We kept the Boy home again today. He still has a low-grade fever and a sore throat, and I'm starting to think we'll have to send him back to school with the fever, because it's not good for him to miss this much school. I stayed with Boy this morning so that Francisco could go precept his class and visit the doctor to have the stitch taken out of his toe. Francisco has had a swollen big toe for a couple of months, and he had a mole right over the main swollen place, which seemed odd, but he went in a couple of weeks ago and saw a doctor who removed the mole and sent it for biopsy. And just so you know, Francisco and I are fully aware of how gross this is; I hope no one is eating while reading. The mole was normal but the toe is still swollen, so Francisco has a topical prescription thing to put on it and has an appointment with a podiatrist. It might be an ingrown toenail, but I hope not, because that would most likely require a surgical procedure and would prolong the agony. My brother got several ingrown toenails when he was a little kid, and once they had to do surgery on it. I remember my brother sitting with his foot in epsom salt water because of his toe. He was eating a Hershey bar and he accidentally dropped it in the water and my parents' poodle went after it and bit his ingrown toenail toe. That dog loved the chocolate. He once bit my hand to make me drop my candy bar, and he ate it wrapper and all. Animals crack me up when they get wily like that. Once I had a crow fly past my head and hit me with his wing to make me drop the food he thought I was carrying. I was at college then, and I'd just come out of the main food building, but I didn't have any food to drop, so the joke was on the crow. I know the food drop was the crow's evil plan, because I'd seen him or one of his friends do the same thing to other people, and sometimes it worked. I spent part of my morning cuddling with Esther while watching M*A*S*H and drinking coffee. That cat is a marathon cuddler. By the time she finally got up, my ass was asleep and my back hurt. I know. You're wondering why I didn't bump her off my lap. Well, I can't really answer that. If you could see how happy she gets when she can lay on me and tuck her face into my leg and purr like crazy, you would know. After the cuddling was over I got a surge of energy and worked on arranging my craft stuff on and under my newly-covered bedroom table. It's much better now. I had planned to bake oatmeal chocolate chip cookies this morning, because the other day I found a bag of chocolate chips in a cupboard when I was reorganizing things, but there was no time. I think maybe I'll do that tonight. Last night Francisco went to Tuesday Night Shoot-Em-Up and Boy and I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have to say, I have no idea what the hell is going on. I've never been a regular watcher of that show (at all, actually. never watched it), but when I was sick with The Virus recently, I started watching the syndicated morning episodes, and I rather liked them. But trying to watch the new shows is a whole other thing. Boy and I are trying to figure them out as we go along. It sounds something like this: Boy: Who's that guy? Me: That's Spike. He was a vampire. Boy: Is he still a vampire? Me: I don't know, I'm not su--WHOA! I guess he's a demon. Boy: Is that girl a demon? Me: She's got the big brow, so I think so. Boy: Why is the high school evil? Me: I don't know, son. I don't know. I think we're going to give up. This morning we watched one of the syndicated reruns and it was much easier to understand, but still. We don't need to be watching something so completely inexplicable. We will read instead. Tonight we have The West Wing, which is the best thing all week, but other than that, no plans. I don't generally talk about Really personal things here (because some things are no one else's business), but I just need to talk about this. When are people with children supposed to be able to have sex? If Boy was younger we'd put him to bed earlier and there wouldn't be a problem, but because his bedtime is 9:30 AND Francisco and I aren't night people and have zero sex drive after, say, 8:30, there is a problem. This morning we set the alarm for 6:00 so that we could spend a little "quality time" together, but Francisco spent 2 hours in the middle of the night laying awake (he does that sometimes), and I was just too tired. So again, no sex for us. We're thinking that on the days Boy has his afterschool Tae Kwon Do, I can work through lunch and come home early and [sorry Mom] we can have the hot monkey lovin', and I think that's definitely workable. But it's a little depressing to think we're at a point in our lives where we need to Schedule sex. You know? Where's the spontaneity? Will we always be having to get out our Franklin Planners * to find times when we're both free? The answer to that is probably, but only until Boy goes to college. Only 7 more years until we can be spontaneous again--woo-hoo!! Love, E * We do not own Franklin Planners. Or any planners, actually. We have a calendar that hangs from a magnetic hook on the refrigerator. We're simple people. People whose ancestors farmed, and grew grain, and turned it into illegal alcohol. We're descended from bootleggers, frankly, and when you come from bootleggers you tend to rely on your wits and your cunning; not on fancy Corinthian Leather-bound calendars. We forget birthdays and holidays and what day the recyclers pick up in our neighborhood, but we're happy doing things this way. If we could we'd be repeatedly running from the Law in our own personal General Lee, yelling "Yee-Haw!" and "Watch out, Uncle Jesse!". I'd be wearing cut-off short shorts with American Tan nylons and high heels, and The Boy would be in overalls with no shirt. But we're living in a society that shuns the ways of the bootlegger, so we need to make do with owning only the calendar that hangs from a magnetic hook on the refrigerator, and forgetting important dates. This is our way of life, our heritage. We were born hangy calendar people, and we'll die hangy calendar people. End of story. |
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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