The Easter bunny froze her tail off, hopping around the yard Saturday night hiding (okay placing) Easter eggs. She was mighty glad she didn't hide them any better because it was still very cold on Sunday morning (so cold that even Mr. bunny, who had sat inside watching TV while she had hidden the eggs Saturday night, complained about just how cold it was), and the eggs were found much faster this way (and they could all hop back into the house, I mean burrow).
I actually wrote some yesterday (Easter). I was daydreaming in bed, as sleep was elusive, and one character in the daydream was telling another the story (so this is how I snuck up on it unawares). (yes, I was supposed to be up with the son, doing the inside, outside, egg hunt, but the Husband was still asleep. He was wrapped so tight in blankets, you couldn't tell which end was head, and which was toe. The son would go over and tentatively say "Dad, dad? You know it's Easter?" and no sound would be uttered in reply. I could only be amazed, as the son screams "MOM!" two inches away from my head when he asks me to get up. The mound next to me, did eventually stir, a head and arm emerged, the arm went around me, "Happy Easter baby" was the first sound it made.
- (which is quite good, as the Husband often calls me things I do not like, for example Chubby tuna. Excuse me, what kind of pet name is that? I am not chubby (though of course I could stand to lose some weight, and to gain a lot more tone), nor am I, in any way, like a fish. When I complain, he insists he calls me chumby tuna, and the cat chubby tuna, but it is the opposite, the cat gets called chumby tuna, and I, chubby. But seriously why do the cat and I have the same pet name?!!! And the other night it was bun-key boo-key. And I said "what did you just call me!?" Because for a moment I thought he had called me monkey booty. I call him things like "bear" and "honey bear". anyway)-
So I was thinking about the story in this way, and when the Husband got up, I got up to put in my contacts and brush my teeth. Which resulted in much complaining from the child, who felt I was torturing him, wasting time in this way. I was still thinking of the story while I did these things, so when I finished, I got paper and started writing stuff down before I could forget it. This did not go over well with anyone, the Husband kept coming in and singing and talking to me, the child kept coming in and whining, I kept yelling at everybody that all I needed was "5 Minutes!", and that I couldn't be done, until they let me finish, and I couldn't finish while they were talking, and it was only two pages.
I had forgotten about this, that I often write at inopportune times, and that it causes much infighting, as I will threaten people and chase them away till I get to write down the sentences, before I lose these ideas, these words (these parts of me). There was a time when I would have left the words and hoped they would still be there to find later, but now, I growl, and fight, and protect their right to exist, for now I know, I need them. After the egg hunt, while in the shower, I found I was still thinking and writing, which drives me nuts when it happens, because then I have to worry about forgetting stuff before I am done in the shower, and can get paper and pen. But I did remember. And I was happy. Because I felt the characters and the story come alive before me, and in me, again. I realized how much I had missed it, having this story breathing inside me. Feeling its heartbeat within mine.
oh well, today not as good. No writing at all. Maybe tomorrow I will type in what I wrote in notebook, that will help reactivate stuff. But I probably wont have time, as I need to clean the house, as we are having company on Wednesday. (so perhaps Thursday, I can do it). Today I have accomplished nothing. Nothing more than being depressed about eating. I haven't had stomach pain in awhile (which of course is good). But nothing tastes the way it used to, it isn't good, and so many things are unappealing. And there are plenty of things that I am afraid to eat. Things that burn, or make me sick to my stomach (just thinking of them), and things I am afraid will bring back those stabbing pains. Even my standbys weren't good yesterday, nor today. I did find another kind of mango salsa that I like though (as they still haven't restocked the brand I've been using), so yeah for that. I'm tired of feeling sick to my stomach. I used to love food. I had some chocolate yesterday and today, but I am not enjoying it, I am eating it, because I remember I used to like it, and I want to enjoy it again. So I keep trying it. Hoping it will change, go back to the way it was. How about now, do you like it now? How about if we mix it, with dark? Okay, what if we mix it with white? What if we add this peanut butter stuff? (what do you mean the peanut butter ball doesn't taste like anything? How can it not taste like anything?) (So what you feel nauseous, you felt nauseous before you started eating. You wont feel less so if you stop eating.) I mean it isn't bad, I can eat it, but it doesn't taste any better than a can of asparagus, it doesn't feel any different to me. And I want it to, darn it all, it is chocolate. Chocolate! And it is my favorite kind of chocolate. And I just feel "whatever" about it. This sucks. Not at all a tragedy, but still it is a bummer.
If I was losing weight, throwing up, unable to eat anything, or still in pain, then of course I would go get checked out, but I'm not. It is just stupid, and annoying. Maybe I will give it a time frame though, since obviously it is sucking up time and energy. Let's see, it has been seven weeks. May 22, would be 13 weeks, that would be long enough to see if it might fix itself.