5/24/15: Bugged
I looked in the mirror this early morning and winced. A weird-looking alien looked back. Truly. My left eye is a mere slit, and my forehead has reverted, becoming an impressive Neanderthal-type brow. There’s a massive lump/bump there; my skin is painfully stretched. This horrid topographical rearrangement was caused by a gnat- one teeny, tiny, almost invisible gnat that gleefully sank its practically invisible proboscis/biter into my forehead, right beneath my hairline, to inject me with its poison. I was chatting with the window-cleaner guy when Bam! I felt a shocking pain, and grabbed my forehead. It felt like someone had lit a fire there.
(I’m super-allergic to gnat bites, which is why I’m attempting to escape them by building the gazebo, complete with screens and discreet bug-zappers.)
Anyway, I raced inside to grab my antihistamine pills, but noted that they had expired, so I raced to the pharmacy on my bike, praying I’d get there before it closed. There were six minutes left before the doors locked. The pharmacist took one look and ran for the meds I needed. He kindly brought a cup of water, and I gulped down a pill as the sale went through.
“Don’t drive; this stuff helps, but makes a person sleepy pretty quickly.”
“No worries,” I said grumpily. “I rode my bike…”
“That’s worse! Unless you live close by?”
“Yes- just three blocks…” He was reassured, but told me not to travel anywhere for a while. I rubbed the lump fiercely and wished the medicine would hurry up and work. I was worse than I’d been just five minutes ago. Fortunately I’d had the presence of mind to grab my sunglasses, which half-disguised my condition. I hate it when people stare, but hey, I would. I look awful.
The thing is, I got caught napping, having mistakenly reassured myself that this really cold weather would make gnats wait a bit before venturing out. So I hadn’t donned my mosquito veil.
This fat head will last about a week. I must continue taking the meds until at least Monday, which means I’ll garden half-asleep. I really shouldn’t use ladders, sharp tools, or try to weed, because now my right eye is swollen as well. I might, for example, jab my hand with the weeder’s sharp, forked tongue. Being half-blind leaves one awkward.
So, I’m probably useless out there.
I guess misery loves company. I’ve noticed Bryn is sneezing. She’s become droopy and lethargic; her nose is running.
I don’t think it’s an allergy, as her eyes are clear. (Allergies cause eye and ear irritation for her.) I think she has a cold. She isn’t as lively outside, but her appetite and water intake are reasonable, so no vet, yet.
I bought a big bottle of Ester-C, excellent for 24-hour immune support, and use my mortar and pestle to pummel it into a semi-powder. After smearing a decent bit of crunchy peanut butter onto my palm I dump the crushed 1000 mg Vitamin C onto the peanut butter ‘bed,’ then smear another nice dollop of the gloppy goop on top. Bryn loves crunchy peanut butter. This palm ‘sandwich’ is the perfect way for her to take pills.
Though we’re both off our feed, it will pass.
Today there is something much more important to think about.
***
It’s Memorial Day weekend. I reflect on the sacrifices my Uncle Milton made as a Marine in the Pacific during the Second World War. He knew misery, and fleas, and foxholes, and intense heat, and he witnessed not only cruelty, but also incredible bravery, over and over. He spoke of his experiences briefly, and only once.
Years ago I found a way to remember, and symbolically thank, all the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives to keep this country free. I always choose one dozen perfect red roses at the local flower shop, and then visit a cemetery. Any one will do. I move slowly past graves- often situated under giant, sheltering trees- marked with American flags. Older headstones might have the soldier’s rank in the Marines, the Navy, the Air Force, the Army or the Coast Guard, perhaps carved into granite.
On graves that have no flowers, I leave a rose, and a heartfelt ‘Thank you!’
Bless them all.
I looked in the mirror this early morning and winced. A weird-looking alien looked back. Truly. My left eye is a mere slit, and my forehead has reverted, becoming an impressive Neanderthal-type brow. There’s a massive lump/bump there; my skin is painfully stretched. This horrid topographical rearrangement was caused by a gnat- one teeny, tiny, almost invisible gnat that gleefully sank its practically invisible proboscis/biter into my forehead, right beneath my hairline, to inject me with its poison. I was chatting with the window-cleaner guy when Bam! I felt a shocking pain, and grabbed my forehead. It felt like someone had lit a fire there.
(I’m super-allergic to gnat bites, which is why I’m attempting to escape them by building the gazebo, complete with screens and discreet bug-zappers.)
Anyway, I raced inside to grab my antihistamine pills, but noted that they had expired, so I raced to the pharmacy on my bike, praying I’d get there before it closed. There were six minutes left before the doors locked. The pharmacist took one look and ran for the meds I needed. He kindly brought a cup of water, and I gulped down a pill as the sale went through.
“Don’t drive; this stuff helps, but makes a person sleepy pretty quickly.”
“No worries,” I said grumpily. “I rode my bike…”
“That’s worse! Unless you live close by?”
“Yes- just three blocks…” He was reassured, but told me not to travel anywhere for a while. I rubbed the lump fiercely and wished the medicine would hurry up and work. I was worse than I’d been just five minutes ago. Fortunately I’d had the presence of mind to grab my sunglasses, which half-disguised my condition. I hate it when people stare, but hey, I would. I look awful.
The thing is, I got caught napping, having mistakenly reassured myself that this really cold weather would make gnats wait a bit before venturing out. So I hadn’t donned my mosquito veil.
This fat head will last about a week. I must continue taking the meds until at least Monday, which means I’ll garden half-asleep. I really shouldn’t use ladders, sharp tools, or try to weed, because now my right eye is swollen as well. I might, for example, jab my hand with the weeder’s sharp, forked tongue. Being half-blind leaves one awkward.
So, I’m probably useless out there.
I guess misery loves company. I’ve noticed Bryn is sneezing. She’s become droopy and lethargic; her nose is running.
I don’t think it’s an allergy, as her eyes are clear. (Allergies cause eye and ear irritation for her.) I think she has a cold. She isn’t as lively outside, but her appetite and water intake are reasonable, so no vet, yet.
I bought a big bottle of Ester-C, excellent for 24-hour immune support, and use my mortar and pestle to pummel it into a semi-powder. After smearing a decent bit of crunchy peanut butter onto my palm I dump the crushed 1000 mg Vitamin C onto the peanut butter ‘bed,’ then smear another nice dollop of the gloppy goop on top. Bryn loves crunchy peanut butter. This palm ‘sandwich’ is the perfect way for her to take pills.
Though we’re both off our feed, it will pass.
Today there is something much more important to think about.
***
It’s Memorial Day weekend. I reflect on the sacrifices my Uncle Milton made as a Marine in the Pacific during the Second World War. He knew misery, and fleas, and foxholes, and intense heat, and he witnessed not only cruelty, but also incredible bravery, over and over. He spoke of his experiences briefly, and only once.
Years ago I found a way to remember, and symbolically thank, all the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives to keep this country free. I always choose one dozen perfect red roses at the local flower shop, and then visit a cemetery. Any one will do. I move slowly past graves- often situated under giant, sheltering trees- marked with American flags. Older headstones might have the soldier’s rank in the Marines, the Navy, the Air Force, the Army or the Coast Guard, perhaps carved into granite.
On graves that have no flowers, I leave a rose, and a heartfelt ‘Thank you!’
Bless them all.