Wordjanitor Strikes Again

Sometimes a spot is just a spot. Or it's not. In this case, 'twas not a spot. Or it was, but upon further examination, it wasn't. When my dad had his bone scan after his diagnosis from the biopsy, they found a spot, which they then x-rayed and determined was nothing after all. Meaning, the cancer is not in his bones. Which is good news. Damn good news. This reality shit is exhausting. The physical exhaustion from the weekend was honestly cleansing. It felt much like I did after playing weekend soccer tournaments back in the days before the titanium toe. I'm fairly certain most people think I'm nuts, but I'm fairly certain they probably thought that before I answered the "What did you do this weekend?" question. The exhausting part is all of the little lists in my head. Things to do, buy, decide. Work things, errand things, house things, dad things, and occasionally even me things. Apparently I have a habit of putting that list in the inco...

"I like grasshoppers because they catch the mean bugs in their wings and eat them. Then they spit them out and put them in jail where they can't fly into my eyes. Yeah, I like grasshoppers. They're my buddies. They protect me from the bad guy bugs." --@, Nov '07 As if "Adventures in Shredded Soy Cheese" on the kitchen floor wasn't enough. Or even the color commentary as Benny and George the lizards fought fires in the hallway. @ had one heck of a creative day. In addition to lizards, cheese, and grasshoppers... He supervised my morning housecleaning (from his stepladder perch while wearing his bike helmet) and afternoon cooking (apple pie and chicken enchiladas to stock the freezer). He helped with the shopping ("Mommy, I want to get daddy a Bob the Builder t-shirt for his birthday"). He sat blissfully calm during his haircut while every other little boy in the place was screaming like a banshee in a beartrap. Oh, and before putting on his ...

There may be something to the monosyllabic stupor idea. Certainly less responsibility. After all, if compound words are impossible, then surely no one can expect complex multiclause sentences or thoughts from my muddled brain. Today's annoying realization? What I thought was the normal thundering descent of seasonal allergies upon my sinuses is a cold. Which ticks me off. Or, to be more grammatically correct about it, it "ticks off me." Yes, it's annoying to feel crummy (or have the "creeping crud," as my dad says). It's tiring, frustrating, and all of that, but I'm most annoyed because it's my own dang fault. (No, I did not imitate Phoebe from Friends in an attempt to get my singing voice all sexy and low. And if you've seen that episode, rest assured that is not how I got sick! And if you know me at all, you know I CANNOT sing. Twenty years of Girl Scouts and I still sound like something caught in bear trap.) Back to our regularly sche...

I'm not quite sure when I'll get back to big words. Or complex sentences with internal punctuation. I'm tired. Quite tired. On too many levels. The good news is that I am not learning the ins and outs of life at Starbucks, which means I successfully completed a major project at work. The project was exhausting, but energizing. I got to play a significant part in seeing something prominent emerge from a blank piece of paper. In a VERY short time. It's not so much, "look what I did" as "wow, it worked." It has been a rough few weeks. There's work, but then there's that real life thing too. I've been spending a lot of energy being the protector, caretaker, advocate, etc. Don't get me wrong, it's part of what makes me tick. When Y went to the hospital, it was automatic to me that I should be there to make sure she had what she needed. And before I left each night, I wanted to be damn sure the nurses had her pain meds figured out. But ...