piiiinkeeeeye... PIIIIIINKEEEEEYE....

I've learned something useful this week which I'd like to share with others -- especially if they're susceptible to ear infections, as I am.

Earlier this week, I was suffering from a cold (it's still hanging on) and I could feel my ears starting to fill up and become stuffy, the early warning signs of an ear infection. I really, REALLY did not want to have an ear infection over Thanksgiving, so I got online and started looking up information about our friend otitis media. A Wikipedia article on the subject led me to an article on the Valsalva maneuver, which is used by pilots and others to re-establish ventilation in the middle ear. It seemed pretty simple, and if it would help me avoid getting an ear infection I was all for it, so I did it a few times. It seemed to clear out my inner ear, so I was all smiles.

The next day I discovered two things:

1. The Valsalva maneuver does indeed dislodge infected sinus matter blocking the Eustachian tubes, but that matter has to go somewhere; if you perform the maneuver several times with gusto and vigor, you are most likely to blow that goop into your eye cavity.

2. The same bacteria which cause ear infections also cause conjunctivitis, or pinkeye.

So, you guessed it, for the last several days I've had a rip-roaring case of pinkeye. I've already managed to give it to my husband, poor man, and I'm going to try to quarantine myself to keep it from spreading any further. Today the doctor handed me some antiseptic eyedrops and a sign reading LEPROUS and kicked me out of his office, so I'm hoping I should be on the mend soon.

Having had both, I think I can say I'd rather suffer another ear infection than go through pinkeye again. At least with an ear infection you can get some things done. Not being able to see very well puts me into a world of hurt. I can't do much of anything requiring good eyesight, including reading or messing around online, and bright light of any kind hurts right now. Mostly I've been lying around with a damp washcloth over my eyes, muttering about my own stupidity.

Learn from my folly. Don't do this.

Alas, poor sickie

Still sick, and coughing quite a bit. To combat the chills, I've taken to wearing some old pajamas passed on to me by hubby's grandma. They are big and shapeless, and a shade of Pepto-Bismol pink that's better imagined than described (or seen, for that matter). When I catch a fleeting glimpse of myself in the mirror, my brain involuntarily starts playing, "Look out, look out, pink elephant on parade, here she comes, hippety-hoppety..."

Being sick reminds me of a story about our old family doctor. For reasons it would take too long to explain here, we used to call him Doctor Fred, although that's not his real name. Not only was he our family's doctor, but he also looked after my aunt and uncle's family, who lived in the town next door. Doctor Fred had a calm, placid bedside manner that masked a rather wicked sense of humor.

One day, when my sister Julie was in the doctor's office, Doctor Fred came in to see her. He was carrying with him a huge, evil-looking syringe filled with some sort of gloopy reddish fluid -- a novelty item. He convinced Julie to take the syringe, walk into the next exam room, and surprise the person waiting in there.

When Julie opened the exam room door, she was surprised to see her cousin David, who (completely unknown to her) just happened to have an appointment with Doctor Fred at the same time. She quickly made the most of it, cackling evilly and brandishing Doctor Fred's big horse syringe at David -- who has a phobic fear of shots.

Mom says you could hear poor David screaming all the way out in the parking lot.

I love Doctor Fred.

Nnngh. Feh.

Well, I've been trying to convince myself it's just an allergic reaction, but as of last night I was confusedly dizzy, it hurt to swallow, and I started coughing up brownish goop. I think it's official... I've got a case of The Ick.

Time for a cup of peppermint tea. (Thanks again to Emma for sending some; it's coming in very handy.) Peppermint, according to my hippie herbal healing manual, is a mild pain reliever and antiseptic, and it can help clear the sinuses of crud, so it's worth a shot. That, and it fits with the ol' doctors' mantra of "in times of illness, force fluids." Whenever I hear that phrase, I always have this interesting mental image of a doctor chasing me with a turkey baster, yelling, "Come back here! I gotta force fluids!"

Tips and tailings of everyday life

(Don't ask. Just enjoy the Mystery Texture of the Day.)

Ever since we've lived here, we've come to expect a particular sound during the rainy season (read: three-fourths of the year). Somewhere in our neighborhood there lives one little frog, who likes to sing in a small, happy voice every time it gets moist and soggy. We hear him on a regular basis, but have never seen him.

Today, while I was out sweeping up the copious (and HUGE) leaves that have collected on my front walk, I noticed something -- a little ceramic frog, sitting in the narrow flowerbed outside my front door. He's a dark brownish-green color, almost the same color as the earth on which he rests, and so is nicely camouflaged. And I began to wonder. Hmmmmm... perhaps the invisible froggie is our little ceramic guy, who only comes to life when we're not watching?

Just then the real frog started croaking half a street away. Ah, another whimsical notion bites the dust.

We picked up some savory and numptious burritos al pastor, loaded with grilled pork, avocado and other goodies, from our favorite local taquería/tienda/dive for dinner tonight. The nice man behind the counter added some pickled peppers and spicy pickled carrots, a few cut radishes, the usual goodies. He also inexplicably threw in some salt packets -- apparently for those poor souls whose taste buds were shot off in the war; this stuff is perfectly spiced as is -- and I had to grin at the dual-language labels. IODIZED SALT, followed by the Spanish equivalent, YODADA SAL. I noted to my honey that "Yodada Sal" sounds like a Star Wars character who didn't make the cut. Or perhaps it's actually Master Yoda's given name, which he later shortened, fearing no one would take him seriously. (It doesn't matter that you can throw around Sith Lords like they're tin cans and pull an X-wing fighter out of a swamp by sheer mental might; when you're already green, 1 1/2 feet tall, and sporting ears like Spock on steroids -- not to mention that you put sentences together like a Gilbert & Sullivan lyric -- a few credibility issues you may wrangle with, yes.)

[This concludes the sci-fi geek section of our blogging day. We now return you to our regularly scheduled meandering.]

In other news, I am doing a little happy dance because I have a new fairy match for the SOSF! Hmm, guess this means I'd better get crackin' with a card and ornament. AND I have Christmas cards coming from Red Flannel Elephant, which makes me even more happy. La la la, I'm a happy nutbar!

Care for some cheese with that whine?

A little while ago, Tara commented to ask if it was flooding where I was and I replied, somewhat flippantly, that I was feeling miffed because our cul-de-sac had flooded and storm water had backed into our dishwasher as a result.

That was before I really took a look at the extent of the flooding in Washington state. We haven't experienced anything near as bad in this neighborhood, and here I am complaining about a minor inconvenience to a labor-saving appliance. Oh yes, poor me, having to push a button twice and wash a load of dishes again, waah waah. Heh. Someone play me a violin solo, quick!

So, um, while it has rained quite a lot here, there have been some mudslides, some downed trees and a power outage at my honey's work today, we've had no major crises to speak of.

"Autumn in Oregon is wet as Spring..."

It used to be that I had several friends who were very into manga -- Japanese comic books -- and one of them explained to me that the illustrators of these books had honed the use of onomatopoeia to a fine art. Every sound imaginable can be (and is) represented by a Japanese character -- "kurukurukuru" is the sound of a woman slurping her ramen noodles, "nyao" is the sound a cat makes, "doki doki" is an excited heartbeat. But one of the loveliest of all, to my mind, is the long, drawn-out sound of heavy sheets of rain falling: "zaaaaaaaaaaaaaa." That's exactly the sound outside my window right now -- not quite a hiss, but too full and continuous to be represented by our own onomatopoeia of "pitter-patter." I guess this is a Japanese rain.

NaChrisPrezMo continues apace. I've had to admit to myself that if I spent all my time on one large project I wouldn't be able to finish it in time for Christmas, so I've put it aside for now in favor of completing lots of other projects. I started yesterday on something really lovely for one of my sisters, if I do say so myself (and I do) -- just hoping she will like the color. Still trying to figure out good gifts for everyone on the list, though. Some are definitely more of a challenge to please than others, but I will persist!

Enjoying my last hour of being 36...

... by posting here. Soon I'll be into my "old woman" year, as my friend Rob put it. He was in turn inspired by this stretch of possibly-familiar dialogue:

ARTHUR: Old woman!
DENNIS: Man!
ARTHUR: Man. Sorry. What knight lives in that castle over there?
DENNIS: I'm thirty-seven!
ARTHUR: What?
DENNIS: I'm thirty-seven. I'm not old!
ARTHUR: Well, I can't just call you 'Man'.
DENNIS: Well, you could say 'Dennis'.
ARTHUR: I didn't know you were called 'Dennis'.
DENNIS: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?

Etc., etc., ad infinitum. Since I'm no longer a drama geek, I'll spare you the rest.

"Thank you, good Sooz. Now, off... to Camelot!"

Actually, as much as I've joked with my honey about the last few hours of being 36, the thought of having another birthday doesn't bother me in the least. It sure beats the alternative. My dad didn't really like the idea of turning 40 -- and unfortunately, he got his wish.

I'm also one of those strange women who believe in being honest about their age. My mother has always been very straightforward about it. As a result, I grew up with the notion that women who acted coy about their age were just weird. Shouldn't we embrace the opportunities for growth, maturity, depth of personality, life experiences that come with age? Does anyone in her right mind really want to be forever 16, with the hormones and the terrible skin and the vicious mood swings and the constant, dreary superficiality of teenage life? (Gee, is it obvious yet that my teen years weren't my best ones?)

Other than my current weight, which isn't anywhere near ideal, I'm comfortable and happy with the age I am. That will hold just as true tomorrow as it does right now.

The morning, and what came of it

It's been a dark, gray, drizzly morning, quite a letdown from the crisp Halloween night preceding it.
In this light, the decorations I placed on the front door the night before look rather pathetic.

It looks like the once-golden ginkgo has sneezed.

Feeling a little deflated by the day, I went out to check our rather grim mailbox.

Bill, bill, more election materials, advertisement... and a bronze key, indicating I had a package in the big box. Hmm.
Looks like those cheeky fellows at the Royal Mail are sending me mash notes again.

But wait... what's this?
This was no ordinary parcel!

I hastened inside, my spirits beginning to lift, and forthwith commenced ripping. Pretty soon I had revealed:
The Box of Delight! Yes, complete with cuppycakes!

Here's what was inside:
Oh, and I suppose you want to see it all unpacked, do you?

OK.
Lookie here! And even more treasures to open up!

Here is the whole resplendent shebang:
This delightful fairy package contained:

* a paper lantern and information on the Chinese zodiac
* Halloween greetings and a chocolate lollipop
* a packet of peppermint tea (from none other than HRH the Prince of Wales himself)
* a wonderful little tin of fairy treasures (including buttons and hard candies)
* some luxurious-looking salt scrub for the bath
* a mini Dairy Milk bar festooned with Freddo the Frog
* a wee, white Sugar Mouse with green eyes
* lovely origami paper and a bookmark
* a packet of Milky Way Magic Stars
* some small notes with inspiring fortune-cookie-like sayings inscribed thereon
* some teeny Laundry Fairy clothespins with wooden flowers and ladybugs on them
* a dollar for my sister (yay!)
* and a box of Walker's Shortbread (how did you know? I LOVE this stuff!)

Not shown: the Curlywurly bar that somehow got overlooked in the box. Mmm.

Many, many thanks to the kind fairy Emma Faulkner for sending such a delightful packet! I feel like my birthday's come three days early!