I mean my boots, since I rarely ever wear “normal” shoes. That’s how far to walk to the doctor’s office today. At least the rain stopped. I was grateful for every little benefit. Backing up somewhat to fill in what I missed mentioning, The Creeping Crud has not been improving and instead the cough is much worse and we won’t even discuss the disgusting colours of the thick mucus I create. I needed to go to the doctor days ago but somebody threw a couple of stat holidays and a weekend in there just to discombobulate me. What can you do besides wait at home where it’s comfortable (and tea and Kleenexes are easy to hand) or go to Emergency and wait (when you don’t really rate at all on the triage end of things). I opted to stay at home. With T-Man who also got somewhat sick but not nearly with my spectacular ickiness. I do try to share with my dear hubby. Or he shares, I’m never sure who gets it first.
This morning I had tried to dial my doc’s office about every 5 minutes for over an hour and never got more than the busy signal. Their automatic phone system is sucky in the extreme! Everyone was probably still waiting for it to go through 27 options before it gets to the one where you get to speak to a real person at the front desk. (And no, there are no shortcuts. Unless you can remember the right number. Which I think they change occasionally just for funsies.) So I decided to take matters into my own hands and walk (slowly and carefully) over there, look that poor receptionist in the eye and whine and cough pitifully. It worked, by gum! Within 2 hours, I had seen the doc (not mine unfortunately but by that time anyone with a prescription pad and pen and the license to use it would do), got my prescription for antibiotics filled, got a few fruits and veggies and of course some double-strength acidophilus (learned the hard way that antibiotics kill the good bacteria along with the bad ones so you need to replace them asap), and wandered slowly back home. I still feel like crap but at least I’ve got a weapon in my arsenal to shoot those nasty green slimes with. Die! Die you horrible life-sucking life forms! You made me miss New Year’s Day with my family yesterday! As a matter of fact you pretty much destroyed the only parts I love about the Holiday Season (except for two parties that were scheduled early on before I got hit). Take that from Captain Antibiotic! YES!
Whew! Now that I’ve got that out of my system, I promise the only information on my health (or lack thereof) for the next little while will be the cheers I let off when I actually start to feel better. Instead we have the New Year: Two Thousand and Eight. My, time flies. Wasn’t it just the “new millennium” about 60 seconds ago? I guess time going quickly must mean that I’m not bored. Time only goes slowly when you’re bored. Trick is to keep busy and productive and interested and enthusiastic. Instead of a list of resolutions, Lainie talks on the Red Thread Studio blog in this post about choosing a word for the coming year. I’ve chosen “contentment”, as in:
“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” Epicurus, (Greek philosopher, BC 341-270)
Folks should listen more to that Epicurus dude. He was my kind of Ancient Greek philosopher. Minimizing harm and maximizing happiness, indeed. But I digress. The last couple of years for me have contained a lot of sorting out and letting go: of wishes that never will be, of stuff I don’t need, of things that I want (but do I really want them, or just think I do?), of people who hurt me or dragged me down, of aims and goals that no longer fit the person I am now. I’ve gained a better handle on what I do want — though I’m not going to spell that out right now. I think I’ll just enjoy the contentment that I’m hoping for this year. This 57-year-old recently post-menopausal older woman has earned it, darn it! Doesn’t mean I’m settling back though. Remember, my grandma lived 40 more years than I’ve seen yet. You can pack a lot of living into 40 years even if you’re an old lady. I’m expecting the same longevity while living every day as fully as I can. Because you just never know now do you?
In crafty news, I forgot to mention in the last post that I had one whole cuff done on the Auntie90 Gloves but frogged them completely because apparently my hands only know how to do k2/p2 ribbing. Not k1/p1. I kept getting out of sequence and then in my germ-befuddled way compounded the problem by trying to fix it instead of tinking back. I found so many weirdnesses (is that a word?) that I gave up and frogged. Then of course began all over again. And then when I’d knit it back up I discovered that yes, I can actually match the two gloves by starting over again a couple of yards further up the yarn. Frogged again. La-la-la! Not like there’s a deadline or three or anything! Much. Which is why the poor Hepburn Cardi is in limbo again awaiting all the birthday gift knitting that must happen first. That’s whatcha get for NOT having a deadline, hon’. Hopefully I can get some photos up tomorrow. I was too tired after my walk and now it’s too dark to take any.
By the way, have you noticed the tablecloth that is featured in the background of the last few photos? That’s one of the ones my Birth Mother has passed on to me. She and my sister The Nurse go to estate and other sales where they pick up old table linens, lamp shades, lace and other items for their crafts. Mother gifted me with several very nice cloths and napkins for my nearly-100-year-old kitchen table and this one has a great pattern of thistles embroidered on it in very bright floss. Each flower and branch is different and I really like the effect. I don’t do embroidery (OK, rarely) so I appreciate the skill and dedication involved. This one is not so much technically perfect but it’s very idiosyncratic and definitely has the “hand of the maker” in it. At the same time it avoids being kitschy or trite. I would love to know more about who stitched it but they never come with any provenance. (Alright. You can put down your dictionary now — I’ve run out of ArtSpeak.) I like it. Lots.