If Wishes Were Boar's Hair Hairbrushes

So I awoke yesterday with a blistering head cold and though I know we're not supposed to bitch about minor illnesses, I'm going to do it anyway.  Because there is nothing more annoying than a head cold.  It doesn't hurt, doesn't cause a fever, doesn't do anything but slow me down in the rat race and speed up my sinus reactions.

I now own a new box of Puffs with Lotion.  They're not nearly as quality as they were a few years ago. So in case you've been fortunate enough to not be the bearer of post-nasal drip for a few years, save your money. Or invest in something more awesome from the facial tissue industry and then let me know what you got.

Oh, and about the bitching: I don't complain very much about bigger injuries or illnesses.  I harp on the small stuff.  Damn.  Put that on my headstone.

I went to lunch today with Date's sister, and we talked about law and children and sinuses.  She's the ultimate person to hang with when you have a head cold because she has a two-year-old and apparently can no longer be grossed out.  Yes, I do consider that a challenge.  But she mentioned that Date's wife has a wish list on Amazon and suggested I check it out when I got home.  So I did, and it's an interesting read, albeit not interesting enough to discuss.  What's more interesting is that I've spent the last few hours creating my own wish list.  For the time being, it's private, but I can tell you that it includes both a Wii, a Dance Party game, a boar's hair brush, and a new TV.  Oh, and red-depositing shampoo.

Here's what's stuck in my head:

One Well-Timed Taco

I woke up in a funk this morning. It was a special funk, the kind that gets outside of me and yells, "You suck!  Everyone you care about sucks! Christmas can't be over soon enough; in fact, why don't you go take down the tree now?"

Inner cranky me is such a Grinch.

So I dragged myself out of bed after watching, at the same time, the THS - Timbaland and My Cousin Vinny, got ready, and headed out for the shops.

Aside one: I'm trying a new look with red lipstick and winged black eyeshadow. In the daytime. I know, scandalous.
Aside two: Shopping on Christmas Eve is extra-Grinchy.

But the shopping helped, and the voice from the gas pump at Kroger turned out to be a real man who waved at me when I finally realized it was a person and not a recording, plus he looked like a hat-less Santa. Add to that a pre-meal snack from Taco Bell (first, not fourth, meal) and my mood has improved quite a bit.

Merry Christmas. Remember, as always, not to kill your family as I do not practice criminal law.

One-year anniversary of official engagement!

Playlist

These are the songs that I'm currently very into:

Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
Fleet Foxes - Mykonos
Band of Horses - Laredo
Bon Iver - Holocene
Civil Twilight - Letters From The Sky
Dawes - Fire Away
Memory Tapes - Yes I Know
M83 - Reunion
Beirut - Santa Fe
The Decemberists - I4U & U4ME
Purity Ring - Lofticries
Noel Gallagher - AKA What A Life!
Foster the People - Don't Stop (Color On The Walls)
Rock Mafia - The Big Bang

Selfishness

This morning I woke up to watch an episode of Law & Order intertwined with an episode of Dr. Phil.  (Yes, I really hate commercials.)  The L&O was about a family fighting over custody of a little girl and the Dr. Phil was about a family with generations of sexual abuse and the man who married into that family.

Yuck.

Anyway, the father and grandfather of the little girl on L&O conspired to poison the new husband of the mother of that child and put him in a coma.  The stepfather/husband of the woman who was not only sexually abused but had a son who was an abuser said, "I feel like I've been raped."

This got me thinking about selfishness, jealousy, ownership of another person.  I completely understand the ties that bind.  I love my Momma endlessly, I cannot imagine my life with GPOM in it, and I adore my friends.  But here's the thing:  No-one else loves them like I do, much like I do not love others like I love my nearest and dearest.  And I think that's OK.  No-one is supposed to have equal amounts of love for another.

(Bible aside:  I regard love your neighbors as regard and respect your neighbors, not love them in the modern sense.)

So how can dad and grandpa think that their love for their grand/daughter is more important than another man's life?  Particularly the life of a man who is loved by their ex-wife/daughter?  That to me is so selfish and cruel.  My love is not more important to yours in the grand scheme of things.

This being said, last night GPOM and I got to spend some time with Ward.  This is an annual treat (biannual if I'm lucky) and I was so excited to see him.  GPOM and Ward met last Christmas and got on pretty well, which makes me happy too.  But now...truth:  Ward and GPOM spent most of the evening discussing music that they both like (at GPOM's direction).  I felt ignored and it hurt my feelings.  I'm OK today, I think, but Ward's been my friend for years and I wanted the face-to-face time with MY friend.

So as always, it's a work in progress.  I want couple-friends.  But I want to keep my friends to myself sometimes.

December Will Be Magic Again

This morning I got a call from Momma asking for advice about a gift for one of my siblings, and more importantly, to tell me that Biggs wasn't doing too well.  He's been relentlessly sick overnight, and was throwing up blood.  Again.  She says he seems five pounds skinnier and that he goes to a boutique vet where you actually have to make an appointment if your cat is THROWING UP BLOOD.

Rest in peace, Dr. McCurdy.  I miss you.  You were an amazing vet who never made very sick pets wait so you could look good to others.  I, and my cats over the years, will continue to miss you.

So of course I got into the shower and cried and cried.  You might remember this, and that was almost two years ago.  I feel so badly for my almost-seventeen-year-old baby, who is supposed to be enjoying retirement and never getting older or sicker.

I cried so hard there were no tears - have you ever cried like that?  Like the wound is so deep and open that even your tearducts can't see it?  Like you can barely stay upright from the sheer force of pain?  I've not felt that kind of physical weight from the shear force of feelings in a long time.

But I'm trying to think on the more positive side, and I'm trying to accept help the way it's given and not the way I wish it were given.

But I will continue to worry about Biggs.