To Comfort Me

Крем чорба од грашка

It is so harmfully cold outside, the temperatures are low and the winds are high so that it makes me not want to leave the coziness of my house. Recuperating from a nasty bout of bronchitis, yesterday I made my chicken soup, starting in the morning with chicken and onions, a carton of frozen peas, a bag of carrots, pepper flakes, a shake or two of salt and slowly simmering it all day long. Making soup is comforting both when I eat it but also when I prepare it. I’m not sure why; I can bake brownies but it doesn’t have that same calming effect.

Tomorrow, I will go to the grocery store to buy the ingredients to make pea soup: a bag of dried peas in their cozy mesh sack, with pieces of ham steak that I will slice on the diagonal, chopped carrots, celery and onions. There is nothing like comfort than a bowl of  soup on a cold winter night. It’s not as if my mother or grandmother ever made home-made soup when I was a child, actually my mother did make her own chicken soup, I remember that. Maybe my love for soup started there. We also had tomato soup (Campbells) from the can where we would add half a can of water and half a can of milk and we would float a slice or two of Kraft American cheese on top. When we got older we crumbled  those little packets of crackers, Saltines, and we would wind up with a lovely blend of gooey goodness. Mushroom soup too, from Campbells, was always a big hit, made with milk as well.

I will drape a navy blue shawl around my shoulders and sit at the black pearl counter top on a stool by myself. My bowl of soup steaming in front of me, my dog at my feet. The chilliness outside the door forgotten as soon as I settle myself and get the right spoon and the right bowl for my home-made dinner of thick pea soup, made with love. A gift to my family and to myself.

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Tis The Season For Eppiglottitis To Be A Bitch, Again

22 | Co-amoxiclav

Oh Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, please let this be a false alarm. My throat IS sore, not tragically sore as in I swallowed a steak knife the last time I WAS hospitalized with Eppiglottitis so I do have a chance,  but just seeing the increase on my old blog “Calling Eppiglottitis  A Bitch Is A Vast Understatement” rise in numbers,  my chances of getting it again are on the rise too. No really. I feel the first signs and I am not happy.

Poor people, write to me right away and tell me if you too have the stabber-sicker -than- death -disease now. Or is it just panic setting in for all of us. This is the first time in a year that I have felt poorly and while I have lost my voice I feel the need to have someone stand nearby with some calming chemical that might or might not be legal near me…..just in case. Last time at one appointment my lovely internist promised me morphine if this should happen to me again. “Drugs,” she promised, “Heavy, duty drugs.” I trust her but I haven’t even gone to see her yet. I feel like I’m playing roulette here. It’s the only time when I feel like a “playa.” Uh-Huh.

Besides, trying to get through to the big medical practice where I go on a Monday morning in the winter is I N S A N E. It really is, you could die and get buried and have a service before they pick up the phone…and I’m not saying they are lazy at all. They are just really, really busy and everyone is trying to call to make that same day appointment, press 2.  As for me, I tried, I really tried and held on for as long as I could manage and then I just hung up. It wasn’t worth it anymore and I was so tired that I gave up and took a really long nap even though there were workers on the roof making essentially painful noises like jack hammering but it was better than being on hold and having some fake secretary voice tell me to “be patient, someone will be answering your call soon.”  That never happened.

I’m holding on for another day, I’m sipping huge quantities of Progresso chicken and dumpling soup and drinking cranberry-pomegranate juice with semi-crushed ice cubes from a blue and white straw and hoping against hope that all this misery will go away in a day or two and it won’t get worse. That for once I can be a “normal” patient and tomorrow I will be all better. It would be nice if the kink in my neck will work itself out and that all my symptoms will go away with no need for a Z-pack or any other kind of antibiotics or cough medicine/ medication. Yeah right.

Tis the season for colds and the flu. Tis the season I always want to move, someplace warm. I mean it. Really, I do.

*****

Next day:

Laryngitis, coughing all night, sore throat still, I made the call, this time it only took me 30 minute to get through. Going in at 4pm. Will post later.

Went to the Dr. and while I saw a Z pack in my future, she saw an Rx for Augmentin in mine. Augmentin. For Bronchitis.

Blech

It’s going to be a really long ten days.

Carry On Tuesday- Come Fly With Me

Boynton Canyon - Sedona Arizona

Image by Al_HikesAZ via Flickr

Come fly with me and let me clutch your hand so that even if I feel the tiniest bit afraid in the beginning, I know you are here for support. We will travel over mountain tops and swoop over canyons as if we were birds soaring easily for food and flight. We have no responsibilities, except to have fun and for adventure to find us and for us to drink it in like wine, the shade of crimson roses. This is the adventure we have waited for, for so many years and we deserve this window of light looking straight out on to the  world. Wherever we go, we have each other, our own constant, for as long as it lasts. The images out of this small window are delightful. Now, we are flying above puffy, springy white clouds, I almost want to leap out through the window to jump on them, with you, my love, still holding on, to my hand.

The Coolest Vehicle I've Driven

1985-1987 Ford Escort photographed in College ...

He Was My First And I Loved Him

His name was Eddie. That’s right, Eddie. As in Eddie Escort. A fine first vehicle for every young lady. He was cool, unpredictable, smooth. Could you count on him during the cold winter months? Hell, no. But, he was a sweet talker that landed me in a coveted space in the back parking lot where I worked after I did some clever maneuvering myself. Eddie Escort knew where he belonged and I made sure everyone else knew it too. You wouldn’t want to marry Eddie but as a first boyfriend, he was fine. He was exciting, even a little dangerous, sexy and well-built, he brought me to work and back, okay, sometimes we had to wait for AAA to bail us out but that just added to the suspense of our first relationship. Eddie was a Ford. A Ford Escort and he and I were cool. Together.

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Because Jenny The Bloggess Would So Understand

A self-portrait of the Bloggess, also known as...

After hoarsely calling downstairs in my sunshine yellow house with white shutters and no one responding

I resort to messaging: “I am jumping off our copper covered roof

with a hamster between my teeth.’

That’s what it takes to get attention around here but the only response I got from MY Victor who is Danny is “very funny”

as I lay in bed sick with laryngitis and a wheezing cough

sounding like a Mickey Mouse version of Lauren Bacall who was a sexy beast.

English: Roborovski hamster

I have become invisible apparently too.

I message my family on their smart phones,

still no response so I resort to silliness like the wriggling hamster tail clenched

between my bloody lips.

That should do it, I think.

No, not really.

Doesn’t anyone have a sense of humor except for me?

I bet Jenny the Bloggess would understand; she is my heroine or heroin, either way. Or both.

This is for her, because she makes me laugh and brightens my day more than my sunshine yellow house and because I am a

true nerd who pre-ordered her book from Amazon and it is not even due out until April. Jenny, I live in NY so I’m here if you need me,

but more importantly, we need YOU. Your honesty and strength makes us all better people. Yes, Jenny, You Did That.

Dedicated to Jenny Lawson

Mellow Yellow Monday: My House

English: Rosa 'Mellow Yellow' at the Inez Gran...

Image via Wikipedia

After our very VERY long construction (or should I say destruction) of our house, we ended up painting our little cottage happy yellow with white shutters. Only the doors are blue. I love the way the paint looks, how can you not smile when you see a yellow house with white shutters? You can’t! The color of our little house is the same color as this beautiful rose. While it is not a beach house (I wish) it does remind me of the houses I have seen on Cape Cod. So, even though I shudder with the cold weather, once I have seen the warm yellow of the house and the shiny white of the shutters I try to pretend we’re in a warm climate. Does it work? Sometimes. It definitely reminds me of summer and butterflies and buttercups. Summer can’t be too far away, can it?

Feeling Purple by Peter (9 1/2)

Purple

Image via Wikipedia

I feel purple today, dark purple. I’m cranky and in a bad mood. I’m being bothered by my stupid family and everyone is talking all around me.  I want to kick my heels into walls and leave black marks. I want to take my fists and punch lots of holes in the walls and it wouldn’t even hurt me; I wouldn’t feel a thing but whatever I touched would be in really big trouble. I want to do it so badly, maybe I will.

I want to take my chicken noodle soup with smashed up crackers and toss it on the rug and not feel sorry that I did it at all; I would let my dog eat it all up because my dog is the only person I like. I hate everyone. “Screw you, you idiot” I would scream over and over and no one would tell me that it was bad language. After that I would laugh and laugh and not care about anything. I would eat whipped cream straight from the can right into my mouth, as much as I wanted. After that I would have ice cream sandwiches, maybe three of them. Or four.

Everybody is mean and stupid and a poop-head and I would tell them but if my mom heard she would give me a time-out. As if I cared. I would just PLAY with my dinosaurs and have fun anyway. Like when mom and dad took away dessert from my sister and me for three days and we pretended to care a lot but we had a secret pact, we didn’t even care but THEY thought we did, it was awesome. Someday if I become a dad, I will let my kids do whatever they want and I won’t be mean like my parents are cuz I will be cool and not strict. Signed, ME.

By Peter, AGE 9 (and a half)

If You Could Commit A Minor Crime (With No Consequences) What Would You Do?

Released into the public domain by PETA.

Image via Wikipedia

I asked (and answered) this question to myself just yesterday as I was parked on a side street in another town. I sat sipping my cup of coffee and watched a parade of women walk down the street wearing different kinds of fur coats. I know, I know, it’s a controversial subject and I am not really for any type of violence but I was imagining taking large cans of red paint and tossing them on the coats a la like slushies on the television show Glee.

These women looked rich, really rich and they were wearing animals, dead animals and I hated it. Don’t give me the speeches about the animals are bred for fur coats and how warm they really keep you, deep inside I think that it is wrong. My own mother owns and wears fur coats and I hate it. My sister, however, will inherit them all since I have no interest in them. When I took my mother to the doctor the other day she was wearing a dead bunny jacket and it made me sick. She used to try to not wear these things when I was around, now she apparently doesn’t care or doesn’t remember. Given that my daughter is a strict vegetarian, maybe she would be more inclined not to wear it when she is around.

That’s my fantasy crime, I would NEVER do it, I don’t believe in doing it, I don’t believe in any act of violence. I don’t support PETA because they do those type of things but it certainly sends a message. It’s how the message gets across and the act of violence itself that I don’t support….except in my dreams.

What crime would you commit if you could get away with it?

Staying Warm During Winter

English: Fireplace. For more translations SEE ...

Stay With Me

Sit in front of the fireplace, with a soft shawl wrapped around me, my hands cupped around a mug of extra sweet, hot chocolate filled with puffy white marshmallows. Relaxing with the sounds of the logs crackling and watching the sparks fly off into the fireplace like fireflies in the summer night sky.

or

Stay in bed, huddled under three or four quilts, my head resting on two pillows, curled up in the fetal position. You can barely see me, except for a couple of inches of my face. I’m so happy to be here instead of outside where the wind is harshly hitting the fragile trees and the ice is coming down like pellets striking people in the face. I’m so happy to be here, so happy to be me.

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