Sunday, November 7, 2010

Okay. Now I'm Sick

I realize this morning that yesterday's stage of illness was like having a tiny, sweet fairy on my shoulder with a southern accent who said things like, "Honey, you're sick now. Rest. It's okay."
And Marcy brought me that delicious soup and friends called and we laughed and joked and I just did whatever I wanted to, a little weeding in the sun, starting a short story, writing a little poem to send to a friend in know.
Whatever I wanted. I felt a little achy, my head was stopped up, whatever.

Nah, well. Today instead of the sweet little southern fairy (who was no doubt wearing a blue floursack house dress and it was so charming) I feel like I have a particularly ugly cement gargoyle, come to life, sitting on my shoulder.

"Hahahaha!" he is laughing, a very chunky laugh as if his throat is filled with rocks not smoothed by a river but sharp with points and bumps and he is perched there on my shoulder with talons like a hawk's.

Okay. It's not THAT bad but I can see him, that gargoyle, out of the corner of my left eye. I swear I can. He is not friendly. He is just mean. Also heavy.

I am supposed to go to Waylon's first birthday party today but I don't think that would be a good idea. Do you remember Waylon? He was born last November and I wrote about him here.
Waylon is Owen's BFF. And I love that boy and I love his mama and daddy and his grandmama and his auntie and his great-grandmother and great-grandfather. And they will all be at the party and so will three of my kids and I just don't think I should go because no one needs this gargoyle I have sitting on my shoulder.
Gargoyles just love to make more of themselves and settle in on other people's shoulders so you should do the right thing and not give them the opportunity. Fucking gargoyles. Fucking Viral Gargoyles.

So even though I am Waylon's Aunt Chicken Grandma, I think I will keep my gargoyle to myself. And so it goes.

I have already cleaned up a fairly massive amount of dog shit and pee and started a load of laundry and fed the cats and dogs and checked on the chickens. If I can find the strength I will take the trash down the block to the trash place. Maybe I'll even hang the clothes on the line if I feel like it. I'm grateful that the clock says 9:17 instead of the 10:17 it would have said if the time hadn't changed. That extra hour, given guilt-free by the Powers That Control Time is much appreciated. Maybe I will work on that story. I have two problems with writing short stories:

1. I always think I can write one in about two hours and of course I can't, and
2. They are never very short.

I think those two things are connected. The gargoyle is sticking his long, pointy fingernail in my ear and giving me a sort of viral lobotomy so forgive me if I'm not making a lot of sense.

It is an incredibly beautiful day but I don't feel like taking a picture. I promise you, though, it is.
And I am glad to be here, sick or not, in this old house on this beautiful day and I am thinking about Mr. Moon and wondering how his reunion went and I'll just bet you any damn thing that those women were mighty glad to see him without his wife. Uh-huh. I'll bet they were.
"Oh, Gle-enne," they probably drawled. "How RRRR yew? Where's that little whyfe of yewrs? She's not here?" And then they fluffed their red hair and angled their bodies to give him a better view of their still remarkable chestular areas and batted their eye lashes.
Uh-huh. I just bet you.
I hope he showed them the picture of Owen on his cell phone. I hope he left early so he could be in the woods this morning.

I think I'll go make a fruit smoothie and gird my loins to take the trash.
And then go sit down on the couch and see if there's anything on the TV that I can bear to watch.

Happy Sunday, y'all. The Church of the Batshit Crazy is all about comfort today. Settle in. Don't go near any gargoyles and if you see a sweet tiny southern fairy do not engage her in conversation.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Cornbread and lollipops. That's what you need.

    I hope it's short lived, that gargoyle.

  2. I am sick too =( On the couch with tea and a Weeds marathon. That is ALL for me today.

  3. Feel better soon -- and I wish I were there to take out your trash for you.

  4. That gargoyle of yours really gets around. I am sick as the proverbial dog. Do I get to lounge on the couch and watch TV? No. My daughter is also sick, and she's taken over the whole couch, plus TV, plus is yelling for me every 10 minutes. Sigh... would it be mean to send her to school tomorrow, well or not, just so I can get a little rest?

  5. That upper respiratory is going around here too. Relax and take care of yourself. Hope you're feeling better soon.

  6. My husband came back from a trip with a nasty headcold, and though I tried to steer cleer, I have the fairy on my shoulder today and I'm girding my loins for the gargoyle. I hate being sick and seem to take longer and longer to bounce back. Of course I had planned to get a flu shot this weekend but won't until I'm better, so I can start fretting about how sick we were last Thanksgiving. Lordy, there's no end to my worries.
    Hope you are feeling better soon. Don't overdo it, which I'm sure is mighty hard for you, being the type who is always inventorying the things she ought to be doing.
    Hope the soup helped. My bid to do today is some chicken soup of my own. Take care.

  7. oh dear..thats bad...:-(

    get well soon...i m sending chicken soup -thoughts along your way...

    that story will still be there when you feel better..:-)

  8. Ms. Trouble- Cornbread and lollipops? That's different.

    SJ- Tea and couch for me now too. Dang.

    Elizabeth- I got 'er done. No problem. You're so sweet.

    Terena- There are some advantages of being old and having grown children. Now go in your room and shut the door and get some rest!

    Mel's Way- I am taking it easy. I really am.

    Lisa- You got it!

    Mel- Oh no. Yes, the soup will help. Wish I could share mine.

    Danielle- I am sure it will be. Thanks, honey.

  9. I'm sorry your the fairy turned into a gargoyle, but you sure do make me laugh. And I probably should feel guilty about getting pleasure from your pain, but I can't help it. You just write funny stuff. I hope you feel better really soon...

  10. Leslie- Nothing makes me happier than being considered funny. I mean it.

  11. I'm sorry you got my sickness, mamacita. Do you need anything?

  12. DTG- I keep telling you! It wasn't YOURS! I have everything I need, thank-you. Looks like the party was fun. I am so sad I missed it. Love you...Mama

  13. That gargoyle is looming of my shoulder too. Shoo, you. I have a life to lead.

  14. oh gosh, you made me laugh with your 1. 2. short story problems. Silly MM. I'm so sorry you're sick. How can you still make me giggle when that gargoyle is so heavy on you? You amaze me. The women talking to Glen in those accents was hilarious too. I'm sorry you have to miss Waylon's birthday. Of course we remember him. He's made quite a few appearances here and your love for him and his family is quite clear.

    Tell me more about these smoothies you make, yogurt? milk? juice? fruit? I got a new blender and have been smoothying alot lately.

    Feel better Mama Moon.

  15. Nancy C- Has that damn gargoyle figured out how to travel via the internet? Damn.

    Bethany- I usually use a little yogurt and then whatever fruit I want. I get frozen berries and use those. Always a frozen banana. Some flax seed. And my favorite ingredient- a few prunes for sweetness and fiber. I usually throw in a few raw almonds, too. And I use juice to thin it enough to blend.

  16. I am late gettin' to this chuckle fest but laughin' just the same. Gargoyles and fairies and Glen, oh my sides! Give that gargoyle a push and watch your feet when he goes crashing down.

    Hope you are better soon! x0x0 N2

  17. It was a batshit crazy day for me. More on that later. Hope that your rhinos in the nose take off and leave for greener savannahs or something like that. I hate those viruses.

  18. Fucking Gargoyles. I'd suggest Mucinex but you are too precious for a lung-ripping molecule.

    So, drink hot green tea. Slow sips.

    Blow your nose often. But only get those soft aloe-vera tissues.

    Thai Soup if your belly can take it.

    Love you!

  19. Mr. Moon only has eyes for you, not those two-bit Reba hookers.

    Love you.


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