Flash 55 - Visual Vexations

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Stunning, jolting, shocking -

the balloon’s ascent mirrored my emotions 

as I celebrated my birthday. 

Riding in a wicker basket 

five hundred feet in the sky 

supported by hot air 

wasn’t my idea of a good time. 

Yet the quiet blue of the heavens 

calmed me 

until my path was blocked by 

the high voltage wires.

Tickle the G-Man's fancy with 55 words of your own.

A couple of weeks ago, I got sick. I had a horrible hiatal hernia attack which lasted about 12 hours. During those hours, I threw up so much (think of The Exorcist demon) and so often that my ribs and stomach muscles ached for a week and a half afterwards. It also messed up my system so that I couldn’t look at any electronic screens (TV, computer, kindle) without getting dizzy and nauseous. I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything (everything except cream of wheat smelled bad.) I think I screwed up my blood sugar levels. I love fried onions but apparently they REALLY hate me. I’m devastated.

Yesterday, I repotted all of my house plants. They are much happier. Three of them were only roots windy round and round in the bottom of the pots they came in. I’m a neglectful plant mommy. I want to set it and forget it. I think plants should be able to water themselves. That’s why I also made two terrariums. Plus, I can make little fantasy lands in my big glass cookie jars. I sort of winged it with these two (one has a cairn and the other has shiny glass stones.) If they survive for a month, I think I will do another with houses for fairies or maybe mini cars and tiny dinosaurs.

QV has gone back to work. It’s all night work, so we are having an interesting time adjusting to our days and nights being upside down. I don’t care as long as he’s working. He was starting to grow roots in the floor of the house. His mental health tweren’t doing so hot. And he was beginning to hate me because I’m a bossy bitch and being home with him all day, he had no place to hide.

I’m very far behind on my NaNoWriMo Summer Camp. I’ve only got 8,431 words of the planned 50,000. I can still make the deadline. One year I wrote more than 30,000 words in the last two days of November for that year. I’ve got ten days to write the balance. That’s 4,156.9 words per day. Easy-peasy puddin’ pie.

This past Sunday, I went to Washington’s Crossing with my parents and The MM. On the ride there, I saw a farm that has given me another idea for a painting. It had three buildings set at radically differing angles, each plane a different pastel color, placed in the middle of waving golden grasses. I worked out how to construct my niece’s painting so it wouldn’t be too heavy and still look modern. Plus, I got two more “sun” ideas, one which will be made from toilet tissue rolls and the other made from bamboo skewers. The paper spider mum will just require that I begin and see where it takes me. I can see the final version but not how I got there. It will be a free floating wall piece all made out of paper.

Pull the Plug

* comments closed of journal posts *

I have been wallowing. Since I don’t have to get up to go to work, once I got sick on Monday or Tuesday (I don’t really remember as the days are running together) I have been doing nothing except taking naps. My sinuses are clogged and that makes me cranky and I can’t think.

It must have been Monday, because I copped out on the ending of the mini story I wrote for Trifecta. I took the easy way and ended it with wishful thinking instead of a proper ending. The story with the correct ending will follow this journal post. I think it’s more realistic and more heroic.

Wednesday was the last of the doctor’s appointments for my father’s prostate procedure. It looks like we are all good. He’s running around like a spring chicken. Out getting his daily fresh rolls and lunchmeat for their lunches. I think he’s having flashbacks to living in Austria. Shopping was done every day.

I had to take my father to an appointment at 08.00 which meant I had to get up by 06.00 so I set my alarm for 05.00 and I slept like crap all night. I am truly a sick person. How is it normal for someone to have high anxiety of such rediciulously mundane circumstances. We got done in ten minutes (the nurse took out the catheter.) I went home and took a nap until 13.00 when it was time to take him back to see the urologist. I dropped him off as they surprised me by telling me I had to take my mother to Boscov’s to get Tag-Away. Boscov’s sells all of the As Seen On TV items. Mt mother and I had the “Why don’t you like shopping?” talk, AGAIN. I hate shopping. I don’t like to browse. Stores are like torture chambers to me. I am a grave disappointment to my mother.

But guess what? She told me she loved me the other day. I didn’t say it to her first and it wasn’t a High Holy Holiday or my birthday or anything. I still don’t know what to make of it. First and only time so far in my life. You like that little bit of hope there on the end of that last sentence? I am always full of hope, though it is quite guarded. Certain things just can’t be expected. I’m 55. The odds of her saying “I love you.” to me first again in either of our lifetimes is slim. That’s ok. I’m used to doing things first, or for myself, or even alone. I have decided to hear her voice telling me she loves me in my head from now on instead of all of the other stuff she usually says. I think I will be happier. I gave up my grudge against my mother years twenty years ago when I realized I wanted her in my life but I could not change her. This may seem a meager reward to you but I think it was worth it. I was re-reading this papagraph and the first few sentences remind me of the joke men tell about their birthdays and blow jobs. It’s funny because it’s true.

I struggle so hard to build and maintain a routine and it just doesn’t go well. QV went to work, last night. the project he’s on is all night work. I am way way happy he’s working but now there’s another change to my routine. I’m thinking it was a mistake to take the butterfly (and the constant change it represents) as my avatar, sigil, sign, totem - way of life.

612

Thursday 13 - Cover Your Mouth and Wash Your Hands

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1. Nose the size of Jimmy Durante’s. 

2. Nose as red as Rudolf’s. 

3. Head stuffed with wet cotton. 

4. Ears clogged and pressurized. 

5. Hearing dull, like being under water. 

6. I.Q. dropped 50 points. 

7. Mouth and lips dry as dessert sand. 

8. Throat scratchy and raw. 

9. Taste buds dead. 

10. Appetite non-existent. 

11. No happy dance for #10 because of no energy. 

12. All surplus funds going towards tissues. 

13. Can’t sleep due to all of the above.

Thanks for all of your good wishes. 

I think I am on the mend.

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Achoo!

I'm sick. 

My head is stuffy, my throat is itchy, I am sneezing and my face feels all tingly but not in a good way. 

I'm gonna crawl into bed for a few years.