Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Second helping of those Crazy Dream Chronicles™

So, since I've been awake for a little, I'm losing some of the details ... but here's the gist:

There was one part in where there were ants. LOTS of ANTS. And I was tracing where they were coming from. They were crawling up a bookshelf (like one that Michael's made for me in our house), but the setup of the house was more like my mom's house (my childhood home). I was debating on getting a spray bottle with water, alcohol, and peppermint oil ... and how badly it might hurt the books on those shelves.


The other part of my dream had me going to the inside of a building. It seemed like a historical building, but also like a used-book store (which, tbh, would be a place that I'd LOVE. Since books, for cheap. And the smell of books permeating the room(s). Love that).

And there was a guy there. Kinda a larger-built guy, bushy hair ... kinda reminds me of the acupuncturist I had after a car accident. Nice guy. Haven't seen him in over a decade.

BUT, this guy, in my dream, he was a painter. And I was looking for a birthday present for Michael. And I figured that I'd get a painting ... since, well, here I am, and here's a local-artist-guy ... and we start making plans. And it'll be cool. And hopefully Michael will like it.

Later, I catch up with the artist again (LET IT BE SAID, that, irl, if I were to commission a painting, Michael and I have already agreed that we'd get it from one of our friends who does GORGEOUS seascapes and florals. Seriously, her work is amazeballs. She also makes a most wonderful neighbor and I miss her very, very much since she moved back to Utah) ... and I'm looking at the invoice....

And, like, I thought I'd be paying in the neighborhood of, say, $300 for a commissioned painting.
It's, like, $2,198 ... and I'm just flabbergasted. I'm GASTED with FLABBER.
This is seriously expensive. And what if Michael doesn't even like it?
So I'm trying to backpedal to arrange something that, you know, we can AFFORD, while not offending his artistic sensibilities.

And that's really about the part where I wake up.

But I do miss getting acupuncture. Pretty relaxing, really.
Not as relaxing as a massage, of course. But still a bit decadent.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Yet another dishing of Allanna's Crazy Dream Chronicles

I'm coughing less ... when I remember to take my steroid inhaler (1 puff in the morning. One at night. ... If I miss a dose, the next couple days are ... interesting).

I keep having strange dreams.

Here's one that I had typed up for my Facebook page:

Well, my dreams were not the most restful. First part, Michael and I picked up plans for a new house, but didn't tour the model home (though it was practically across the street) so I couldn't picture it in my mind to explain it to people.
(You might NOT want to read further, if you're squeamish. Just giving you advance warning.) 
Then we were at a meeting to look at more plans, but it turned into a missionary-type meeting and I was filling out a paper to help tech people (but it seemed more like busywork/fill-in-the-blanks, which was SO NOT REAL) ... then I was sitting on a couch next to [Bubbles] and we're about to say a prayer and I scratch off a scab-thing on my elbow-pit and this pink, gelatinous tube comes out. And it's MOVING. There's a WORM. IN MY ARM. And, since it's prayer, I can't just go get up and gab something to wrap it in and throw it away, so I fling it onto the floor. Then I see there's more in my scab-hole, so I squeeze to get an end and start wrapping more worm around the end of my finger ... and the prayer is over and I get [Bucket] to get me a Kleenex and wrap the flung-to-the-carpet worm and what I've wrapped around my finger into the Kleenex ... and I'm worried that maybe this is just a scab inside my blood vessel from an immunization? Then I realize, as I'm blearing awake that you don't get vaccinations in your elbow-pit.
(Okay, it's safe again.) 
My subconscious has issues.

I don't recall everything about last night's dream ...
Here are the points that I do recall:

  • I was a single, younger (thinner) version of myself.
  • One of my high-school friends was refusing to celebrate Christmas because it's not scientific and was being kind of a jerk about it (wouldn't accept gifts from people, in a slightly abrasive way) ... IRL, he IS a scientist. He's even worked at NASA for a summer and volunteered at OMSI for a bit. But he's pretty cool towards people.
  • My high-school crush-of-crushes was there. He was being aloof. Later he planted a kiss on me (and two other girls) ... even if he hadn't smooched those other girls? ... The kiss was ... extremely lackluster. So, there you go.
  • A woman professor (more adult than the dream-versions of ourselves) got the first friend to be willing to acknowledge the holiday. I was crying and thanking her for saving Christmas.
Yeaaaaaaah. My subconscious is an interesting place.

Okay, I need to get ready to take Bubbles to Musicmakers.
I mostly just want to crawl into bed, read and/or sleep.

Just give me six more months and I can actually do that ... it'll be strange to have all the kids in school. But it'll be kinda cool, too. Errands will be a bit easier. A bit lonelier, too.
I'm sure that I'll manage.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

I'm sure I had a clever title here somewhere ...

So, yeah, my blogging has been totally intermittent (a word which here means "craptastically rare and sporadic").

So, for the last six weeks or so, I've been sick.
It started out with what COULD have been either a sinus infection or allergies.
I tried treating it like either ... meh.
Bubbles ended up getting a bit sick (FEVER TIME!) and I took us to the doctor.
They were pretty sure it was a virus, since that's been going around the WHOLE valley. Fun, fun.
I got myself a moderate Prednisone prescription.
Yeah, no dice.
Went back and got the BIG GUNS of steroids. It helped. A little
Went back and got a refill for my Albuterol inhaler (for when I come down with Bronchitis) ... eh.
Went back, ordered myself a Nebulizer on Amazon ... that helped a little.
Went back, got a Z-Pak ... my sinuses are feeling GREAT now. Still hacking.

And when I say hacking, I'm talking that, if I'm not careful, I easily cough until I trigger my gag reflex. Blarrrghghghgh. Not so fun. I like my tooth enamel. I want it to STAY.

So, went back to the doctor yesterday. Got a second set of x-rays done  ... yeah, there's still some inflammation in my upper airway (not as BAD as it was, but still enough that I'm the QUEEN OF WHEEZING, yo. --- I just took my inhaler about 20 minutes ago. Still wheezing on the exhale. Sometimes I ALSO wheeze on the INHALATION. Yeah, I'm THAT GOOD.)

And I called into the Pulmonary Center this morning. I have myself an appointment for pulmonary testing this afternoon. Go me, right? Is this asthma? (Possible. My mom has it. She was diagnosed at 30. I JUST turned 36, so it's totally possible.) Is it something else? If so, my doctor is wild to know what's up.
(She, like me, wants to know what the chicken is UP in my upper respiratory airway. Let's get this dealt with. ... If I WASN'T going into Pulmonary testing, she'd have prescribed me a steroid inhaler. But, as she said, "I want them to hear THIS ... thing." She's great. I pink, puffy heart my doctor.)

So ... plans for the day?
  • Finish loading the dishwasher. Run that!
  • Do another load of laundry!
  • Get showered and dressed.
  • Take Bubbles to storytime. Hopefully see my friend, S, there.
  • Eat lunch.
  • Grab the blue tablet and take Bubbles to Pulmonary testing with me. (Should take about 90 minutes.)
  • Race home and beat the big kids home from school.
  • Make dinner.
  • Not cough on everyone.
And maybe read some books in the meantime.

I did check with my nurse, when she called with the number for the testing clinic. I'm cleared to be around people (even pregnant ladies). "Just ... don't cough on them."
Me: "Yeah, I try not to cough on anyone, pregnant or not. It's pretty rude otherwise."

Yup, give me my etiquette medal, since I cough in an empty room --- then APOLOGIZE.
(But, since my doctor could hear me (in the patient room) from the hallway, maybe it's not such a bad thing, right?

Okay. Let's get stuff done.

Monday, April 10, 2017

In which I boast of my cleverness ... and come up with a new headcannon for history

It started with this tweet that a friend reposted:

If you think you have a stupid question, just remember NASA engineers once asked Sally Ride if 100 tampons were enough for a 7 day mission. -- ()

And then, I started writing ...
At the same time, I think it's adorable ... They were VERY CONCERNED. And, apparently, a little too embarrassed to ask any other women (and that's not a terribly bad thing, since everyone's cycle is so individual).
I just picture them, red-faced and shuffling their feet, as they stammer out the question ... fearing that Ms. Ride might be HORRIBLY OFFENDED or TERRIBLY EMBARRASSED. ... And then she starts stifling her imminent snickering. "Yes ... that just might manage to suffice. .... Thank you," she manages around barely-stifled giggles.
She excuses herself. Once she closes the door of the women's washroom, peals and hoots of laughter emanate, magnified by the porcelain and steel acoustics.

The baffled engineers look at each other, bemused in the wake of her laughter.
"Should we have offered 150, do you think?"
She excuses herself. Once she closes the door of the women's washroom, peals and hoots of laughter emanate, magnified by the porcelain and steel acoustics.
The baffled engineers look at each other, bemused in the wake of her laughter."Should we have offered 150, do you think?"One engineer smacks the arm of the one on his left, "Guys, I TOLD you ... 200. ... She probably thinks we're so dumb." 

Hey, it could have happened. And I love to think that THIS is the way it went down.

Counting ...

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