Per My Son’s Request, A New Category

On those rare occasions when I write about Algiz the Sun Conure, he has his own category:  Coos and Caws.  When I mentioned him the other day, I also mentioned our dog, Isa, thus prompting my son to ask why she doesn’t have her own category as well.

I didn’t have a good answer for that, so Isa now has her own category:  Wags and Growls.

(I looked into trying to continue the C and C alliteration theme, but couldn’t come up with something that wouldn’t have been painfully pretentious.)

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Today’s Life Lesson From Fiction

If you ever get into one of those suspended animation pods, whatever you do, do not get into the one closest to the door because that’s the one that always malfunctions and has a skeleton in it when the explorers arrive.

Thus Giving Me Something To Talk About

If you’ll indulge me in a bit of understatement, things have not been pleasant around here lately.  Between remodeling, illness, and frequent intense bouts of “being seven,” suffice it to say that if I were asking for directions to “Wits’ End”, I’d end up being told I passed it some time back.

So that’s why it meant so much to me that L. came up to me today and asked why I hadn’t talked about Algiz in a while.  When I told him it was because I didn’t really have anything to say about him, my son said, “Let me help you with pet time (i.e., the feeding, watering, etc. of Isa and Algiz).  Then you can talk about that!”

And that’s what he did.

It Must Be Too, Because It’s Always Been Understood

Thanks to a phone call from Dad, I just realized something about myself.  When I’m at a particular level of not feeling well and I’m asked, “How are you doing?”,  I consider a monosyllabic grunt an adequate answer.

At Least I Wasn’t Nauseous

Over the weekend I struggled with something that hit me with bouts of nausea and/or fatigue, particularly after I ate.  This morning I awoke feeling . . . okay, but, sure enough, I felt mildly nauseous after breakfast.  Since I was pretty sure I wasn’t pregnant, this still seemed like an improvement over the weekend though, so I eventually approached the idea of lunch cautiously, but with a hint of optimism.  After lunch, my thoughts went as follows:

That was actually pretty good, and look at me, not even a hint of nausea!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . .

That Makes Sense Too

In hindsight I can recognize how I misheard this, but it turns out what I should have taken away from the conversation I mentioned yesterday was in fact that it’s time to get a pacemaker installed when you have a heart rate of 39 beats a minute.

Um . . . Yes, Yes It Is

A bit of wisdom gleaned from a larger conversation I had recently:

It’s time to get your pacemaker checked when you have a heart rate of 39 beats a minute.

And . . . Done!

Me thinking as I sit down for my fourth attempt to write today’s post:

Okay . . . how do I write this entry without ending up complaining about something?

Oh, I know!

Status Update

Okay, update time:

This week we’re into what should be the final “big push” on the construction project around here, and the stress is getting to all of us.  Even so, we seem to be doing better this week than last week.

On way or the other, I’ll let you know if that changes.

Okay, Strike’s Over.

Time to get back on my head.