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radegund1. Physical health
Rotten. I've just finished my third course of heroic-sounding antibiotics (Pinamox, Distaclor, and now Zithromax, which one can't help pronouncing in a sort of wrestling compere type voice - ZITHromaaax!!! - like that) since 31 January, not to mention echinacea, salt-water gargling (ugh), hot honey and citrus, and homeopathic pills, and my tonsils are STILL covered in damned spots. I'll phone the GP tomorrow, and he'll either fax a prescription for more antibiotics to my local pharmacy or ask me to come for yet another consultation. Argh. He wants me to see an ENT specialist to discuss whether I need to have the putrid little things cut out. I'm not a particularly squeamish person, but tonsillectomy? Eww. I'm convinced they do it with a melon-baller.
2. Mental health
Rocking! Rarely better! Whee!
3. Children
Magnificent.
Unny's imagination is a thing of joy and wonder. Yesterday, he was a gruffalo (female) who kept a café that served "everyting in de werreld" - except, as it turned out when I tried to order it, omelette. I was the "lovelier", whose job, I was informed, was "lovelying" the gruffalo - i.e. cleaning the purple prickles all over her back, grooming her fur, polishing the poisonous wart at the end of her nose, etc. Later, he was a miner who mined some precious stones for me to sell so that I can buy things while I'm on maternity leave. He wants a pet baby elephant. Or failing that, a real mineshaft in our back garden (not just a toy one).
Fiachra, meanwhile, is ALL about the standing up. ALL ABOUT IT. And he's reaching for things, and exploring things with his mouth, and learning to laugh, which may keeell me ded. (Mind you, nothing - nothing in de werreld - could possibly be cuter than the little euhh sound he makes after sneezing.)
4. Whirlybrain
Whirr, whirr, whirlybrain,
gently through the night,
whirrily, whirrily, whirrily, whirrily,
life is but an infinite to-do list.
I refer, inter alia, to my half-finished novel draft, the two rather excellent quilt design ideas I've had in the past fortnight, six or eight potential next knitting projects, a nifty window-seat that there's no way I'll find time to build for at least a year, the vast logistical and financial extravaganza that is our extension plan, the future of my working life, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.
Unfortunately, I need to get well first, which is proving a challenge.
Rotten. I've just finished my third course of heroic-sounding antibiotics (Pinamox, Distaclor, and now Zithromax, which one can't help pronouncing in a sort of wrestling compere type voice - ZITHromaaax!!! - like that) since 31 January, not to mention echinacea, salt-water gargling (ugh), hot honey and citrus, and homeopathic pills, and my tonsils are STILL covered in damned spots. I'll phone the GP tomorrow, and he'll either fax a prescription for more antibiotics to my local pharmacy or ask me to come for yet another consultation. Argh. He wants me to see an ENT specialist to discuss whether I need to have the putrid little things cut out. I'm not a particularly squeamish person, but tonsillectomy? Eww. I'm convinced they do it with a melon-baller.
2. Mental health
Rocking! Rarely better! Whee!
3. Children
Magnificent.
Unny's imagination is a thing of joy and wonder. Yesterday, he was a gruffalo (female) who kept a café that served "everyting in de werreld" - except, as it turned out when I tried to order it, omelette. I was the "lovelier", whose job, I was informed, was "lovelying" the gruffalo - i.e. cleaning the purple prickles all over her back, grooming her fur, polishing the poisonous wart at the end of her nose, etc. Later, he was a miner who mined some precious stones for me to sell so that I can buy things while I'm on maternity leave. He wants a pet baby elephant. Or failing that, a real mineshaft in our back garden (not just a toy one).
Fiachra, meanwhile, is ALL about the standing up. ALL ABOUT IT. And he's reaching for things, and exploring things with his mouth, and learning to laugh, which may keeell me ded. (Mind you, nothing - nothing in de werreld - could possibly be cuter than the little euhh sound he makes after sneezing.)
4. Whirlybrain
Whirr, whirr, whirlybrain,
gently through the night,
whirrily, whirrily, whirrily, whirrily,
life is but an infinite to-do list.
I refer, inter alia, to my half-finished novel draft, the two rather excellent quilt design ideas I've had in the past fortnight, six or eight potential next knitting projects, a nifty window-seat that there's no way I'll find time to build for at least a year, the vast logistical and financial extravaganza that is our extension plan, the future of my working life, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.
Unfortunately, I need to get well first, which is proving a challenge.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-02 10:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-03 10:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-03 02:18 pm (UTC)