Simple Love

This video makes me cry, and I think everyone should partake. It's not so pretty. It's not at all complex. It's a simple song with a simple animation expressing something that I've always believed.

It might seem silly to some of you, but I still think it's worth sharing.

"Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying"

As much as I'd like to believe that I have all you glorious blogging friends o' mine holding your breathe for my next post, I'm glad that I realize how silly that is. For one, you'd all have kicked the bucket by now. :O For another, this oh so dark and shiny unmusical* blog just isn't that important. I mean, it's an important creative/communicative outlet for me, but in the scheme of things? It's one more thing I put pressure on myself over, and then avoid.

So, as part of an effort to stop stressing myself out over every single thing, I'm trying to be a little less neurotic about blogging/reading blogs. Being prescribed a low dose anxiety medication has made it quite evident to me that I put a lot of unnecessary stress on myself. ^_^

That being said, I'd like to make a few things clear. I like reading your blogs, and comments. They make me happy. But I want all of us to remember that if life gets in the way, that's a good thing! If we're too busy to read blogs, we shouldn't worry about offending someone. We're just busy living!

I realize all of this is for me (and my fellow worriers) and maybe not for you. So, feel free to giggle and roll your eyes at my neurosis ( I do), and skip on down to the fun little bit of listy goodness I ganked from Ari.

Outside my window…
A mass of fluffy white feathers that are hard to decipher into separate silkie chickens.

I am thinking…
That I need to finish sewing the camera cozy I'm making my mother-in-law, that sabbath is such a sweet bout of sanity in the midst of an always chaotic week, and I like Snow Leopard.

From the kitchen…
I hear bird seed bouncing across the linoleum, and smell hazelnut creme oil burning on the kitchen table.

I am wearing…
Less than I should be. Hey, I'm home sick on a Saturday. Don't judge me.

I am creating…
Water-colored ink drawings that I've deemed "water doodles" to sell on my Etsy shop, a green scarf that I've been "creating" for over half a year now, and a wealth of hand sewn goodies for people I love.

I am going…
To a friend's place tonight, if this cough doesn't completely destroy my voice. I hope Todd will come with me.

I am reading…
The last Twilight book. I should finish it tonight! I've been trying to take it easy. Todd gets a little lonely when I devour 700 page books in a day or two.

I am hearing…
A tall black man singing "My Jesus, I Love Thee" accompanied by piano, and thunder.

Around the house…
Grass, bugs, chickens, dogs and an occasional neighbor person.

One of my favorite things…
Clean pajamas fresh out of the dryer or puppy breath. It's a toss up. I like the combination.

A few plans for the rest of the week…
Complete some of my artsy/craftsy projects, spend time with Jessica and her munchkins, finish Twilight and Harry Potter: The Prisoner of Azkaban, enjoy Sunday with Todd and sift through a wealth of stuff to be set aside for our upcoming yard sale.

*I read one too many tweets concerning people's annoyance at blogs with music players. :(

That's It...

I've had all I'm going to take today. Despite the fact that I've now been prescribed, and am hopped up on, anxiety/antihistamine meds(who knew these two were related?!) I am ready to rip someone a new one. No joke. I've had all I'm going to take today.

Problem. I'm not very assertive. Expressing my anger usually brings about the same reaction as the following adorable puppy(thanks google images ^_^).

In college a friend of mine told me that I had the intimidation factor of a declawed kitten, and he was right. Sometimes I wish I could be mean. Though, I'd probably feel bad about it later.

So, back to my anger and disdain.

I long ago accepted the fact that my tonsils hate my guts, or at least my ears, nose and throat. So, tonsillitis hanging on for dear life? I can deal. Breaking out in little red stripes that itch a lot? Been there. Done that. For years. And now I have meds for it! Which seem to be helping. Whether it's an allergic reaction to my antibiotic/the world, or stress-these wee little white pills are just the thing.

What I can not accept today, little white pills or not, is a pushy person. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, but NOT today.

I'm at work, minding my own, when I get this call. This chick on the phone starts blathering on about how she needs some healthy marriage classes. I work for a non-profit family services agency. I'm used to calls like this, but before I can refer her to someone who may be able to help her she starts getting all belligerent. Seriously.

Apparently my name is on a website, along with a friend of mine, as offering healthy marriage counsel.

Whatchu say?! TIME OUT. Not so.

I tell this lady that it's a mistake. I politely (as always) inform her that I am not trained to, nor have I ever taught such a course.

Does she say, "Oh, okay. Thanx. Bye!"?

OF COURSE NOT. She proceeds to treat me like I'm a liar, and explains how much she needs this course.

Now, I feel bad for her and all, but oy vey! I am not a healthy marriage counselor, and I'm not lying! My tonsils hate me, despite uber huge horse pill antibiotics. My chest, neck and back look a little like I was attacked by a hoard of angry pixies in dire need of manicures, and I'm doped up. So, best be easin' up out my face 'fore som'n bad hap'n. A'ight?

I'm ready for bed now.

x_x

Lymphoid Masses From Hell

I'm quite sure that I've griped about my tonsils before. I have every reason to moan and groan about them. They are absolutely useless to me. Always have been. Never once have they saved me from a respiratory infection. Never once have they done anything other than get infected every single time they had the opportunity.

Why haven't I had them removed you ask? Well, my theory is that my mom and I moved so much that no one physician ever had the chance to see how much of a recurring problem I had. Why my mother didn't get proactive about this eludes me. She likes to see me suffer. That's not true, but I have. Oh, how I have suffered.

I'm suffering right now, as a matter of fact. In the scheme of things I know I'm not really burdened or anything, but my throat hurts. A lot. It seems like it's always hurt, and I am so very tired of it. I've chewed enough Aspergum to kill a man, had so many hiney shots I don't even flinch anymore and gagged on so many doctors...well, it just sucks. Will it ever end?!

Today, I got my answer. I sat patiently in the doctor's office this morning, awaiting the gagging swab, the burning shot in my bum, but it didn't go down like that at all. Instead, this doctor actually listened to me! He didn't even swab my throat. When he asked what the reason for my visit was, I told him I had exudative tonsillitis AGAIN. He looked at my throat, grimaced slightly, nodded and asked me a few more questions. After I finished explaining how I'd been getting tonsillitis just like this no less than twice a year(usually more like 5 times) since I was about 3 years old, he asked me why in the world my tonsils hadn't been removed.

I could have kissed him. I shrugged.

He requested yet another round of antibiotics, and the usual shot in the butt. He then told me that he has an ENT that he'd like to refer! An ENT! An expert that can gank those rotten, good for nothing tonsils right out of me. ^_^

I know recovering from a tonsillectomy is less than pleasant as a child, let alone as an adult, but I'm willing to deal. The thought of not being sick 5 times a year makes me absolutely giddy. Perhaps I'll lose some weight from not being able to eat too!

I am so excited at the prospect of surgery I could...pee.

Monday

I've been thinking a lot about this today. I think it'd be safe to say that approximately 75% of everyone I know has an aversion to Mondays. We cower and cringe at the thought of her. Sort of like this.

(any excuse to squeeze in some Klimt ^_^)

Now, the other 25% are the optimists on a quest to redeem or save Monday, to turn it into something else-something worth celebrating. Still, they know it doesn't like them...and it has a club.

My theory is that Monday is tired of being the day that everyone hates, or at least has to try not to hate. She's fed up with being Monday. Can't say's I blame her, but I don't enjoy the punishment.

So, what can we do? I propose that we give Monday a new name. Perhaps that's all she needs. A new start, a chance to recreate herself. Maybe then she'll not feel like reciprocating our distaste for waking up early to go to work anymore. Maybe she'll have pity on us.

What's your nomination? I already have one from MadamRaspberry. Her vote is for Princess Mon, which I think sounds Jamaican and I like it. What say you? Pick a name! This could save us all!