The One With All The Herpes

So all these red things on my face that look like horrific cold sores? Turns out they're actually.... horrific cold sores. Huh! Go figure.

Apparently my respiratory virus plus oodles of yummy life stress equals a rampaging herpes simplex the likes of which has never before been seen (outside a dutch brothel, anyway).

Well, okay, that might be overstating it just a bit. I mean, really... it's only 10 or so ugly, weeping, crustules painfully scattered across the landscape of my face. See? Not so bad when I put it that way, hmm? What's that? Oh, I'm desperately sorry... no, I wasn't aware you were eating. My bad. Totally.

Long story short? T, the best husband in the known universe, picked up my prescription for Valtrex from the pharmacy - because apparently the same drug is used to treat the facial outbreaks as the sexually transmitted ones.

So T officially gets to be known at the local (small town) pharmacy as "that guy whose wife has got The Herpes".

Oh joyous day.

And A Time To Every Purpose...

So as I recover from The Plague(tm) of 2007 and begin to peep, in charming, prairie dog fashion, out from behind my candy-colored pity party, I find several key points to ponder.

1) Paint. Changing the colors of ones environment quickly evolves into a sick obsession; once the door is opened on the sheer god-like control of it all, well... that power cannot be easily surrendered. I may need to check into a twelve step program soon. Right after I answer to the stair well -- it's begging to be coated in a smooth layer of Glidden's "Creme Brulee".

2) Skin. My epidermis is showing, and it is in open revolt. I have an appointment with my friendly family physician in the morning, at which point I am fully prepared to hear her say something along the lines of "OhMyHolyHellWhatInTheWorldAndYeeHaw!" as she glimpses the horror that is my face. At first, I thought they were a couple of cold sores. Then? They bred. Like rabbits, they mated and spawned and filled the canvas of my freckled face.
Truth? Methinks that perhaps the stress is beginning to have just a weeeee bit of an effect on my person. Ed McMahon, if you are listening? I could totally use that 10 million and a life of leisure. My disfigured face thanks you, my husband thanks you, and my children will thank you when the nightmares have ceased.


3) People. People are something of an enigma for me. I don't do well with them, and they seem generally baffled by me. You might call me "quirky" but you would be understating it. You might call me "eccentric" but I lack the requisite trust fund to rate that particular adjective. At the end of it? There are those who "get" me and those who don't, and I really need to learn to let go of the inevitable disappointment that comes with realizing that one of my friends really doesn't "get" me.

4) Sleep. I must either get more of it, or get more books on Da Vinci so I can figure out how to be more like him and learn not to need so much of it. Oh, and also? I must figure out how to get my children to do it much more often. 5:30 is an ungodly hour to be awake and demanding to watch "The Upside Down Show", even if I am weirdly obsessed with Shane's strangely perfect-shaped bald head. When the pre-dawn wake-up and USD Show demands have spanned several weeks in a row? It's time to break out the tranquilizer darts and consider suspended-animation beds for the munchkins. If you don't believe me? YOU try attempting to navigate a universal remote in the dark before coffee.

That's pretty much it. I'm sure I have pondered other things, but really.... how could they compare to these questions for the ages? Unless, of course, someone has discovered a useful purpose for belly-button lint. Then? My mind will be blown wide, once again.

In Which I Ponder The Nature Of Time

The month of January is nearly half over, and I don't think I have yet come to terms with the fact that it is now 2007. The world, of late, has become quite insular for us; most of my time has been spent working on home projects and caring for sick kids. That is, until today -- when I became the really and truly sick one around these parts.

Have you ever had one of those colds where your nose just runs, perpetually? Not snotty, sticky mucus or anything... just a river of clear saline. It appears the thick stuff is still cheerily lining my sinus cavity, where the pressure builds toward the ultimate goal of actually blowing the top off of my skull.

And so it is that I take an involuntary break from organizing the newly converted guest room-turned-playroom to recline and sip heavenly, spiced tea. I spent the entire day doing my level best to NOT think about all of the projects and chores that remain undone, without much success. Of course, it doesn't help that T was in a football coma on the sofa. His intermittent outbursts would indicate that the New England/San Diego game was pretty intense, but keeping track of playoff games is entirely outside my realm of possible ways to fill my brain at the moment.

And so it is that I post-and-run, off to rest and recover and attempt to clear my body of this raging viral misery. Cheerio, dah-lings.

Ring In The True

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
~Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

Ring in the true, indeed.... and the truth, dear internet, is that I have been avoiding you. It's not you, it's me. You see, for once The Crazy was not mine alone, and the world actually lined up behind me in that whole "without pants" brand of insanity.

So, I took a nice break and enjoyed many hours of absorbing the wonder of my boys as we celebrated our holidays and generally hid away from the world in our little suburban kingdom. It was incredibly lovely, to tell the truth. Because when I say the world went a little nuts? Well, that's maybe the understatement of the year. So far.

So, I'll just give my list of excuses and we'll move on because - frankly, dear internet - I'm a bit knackered by this year already.. but that probably has more to do with the Hercules Virus my children bestowed upon me as an extra special Christmas present. It is currently raking my throat over hydrochloric acid and coating the backs of my eyeballs with sandpaper. So I'd like to think it's really just that, because after The Year that was 2006, I figure we're about due for a better 2007.

In Brief:

- Mom returned from Africa for emergency surgery - the particulars of which I will not detail here, as they are her particulars and not mine. That was the first wonky detail -- which was compounded by the fact that my parents are somewhat insane in their own right and decided to keep it something of a secret.

I cannot begin to clarify the numerous horrors involved in finding out a parent has returned unexpectedly from a foreign continent for a critical surgery that is taking place in one day and you had no idea because you were the last to know that said parent had already been in the country for a week. SO! Note to parents: I'm in enough therapy already, thankyouverymuch. It is stunts like that which pose a very real risk of emptying your grandchildren's college savings accounts to pay for mommy's psychiatric interventions. When things like this happen? Tell your kids. That's pretty much what family is for. Got it? Good. Glad we cleared that up.

- Next? The little brother, he is getting married. In about 10 days. Which means that I won't be able to fly out to be around for the festivities - not that I would actually be going to the wedding itself, as it is a Temple affair and I am an unwashed heathen who regularly defiles her eternal soul with Starbucks and Wired Magazine. But it would have been nice to be within a few hundred yards when my only younger sibling takes the plunge. But, ah. I digress.

- Across the street is a beautiful house, about twice the size of mine, that has been vacant since the most recent owners were evicted. They purchased the house last summer, lived in it for 3 or 4 months (during which time, apparently, they failed to make .. you know... mortgage payments) and then the bank quietly foreclosed. All of this is simply the preamble to state that the house has not exactly been as vacant as we believed, as it appears there are squatters making use of it with some frequency. I know this because we (the direct neighbors) have secured it no less than 3 times only to find it again open within a few days. The empty beer cans in the basement were a bit of a tip-off as well.

This would be the part where I try not to dwell too much on what connection this could have to the recent car break-ins in the neighborhood, and decide that maybe the 40 bucks a month for our ADT security system isn't a waste of resources after all. Especially considering the fact that the local Mayberry Deputies have assured us there is not a darn thing they can/would/are willing to do about this situation. The last hope is finding out which bank actually holds the title and attempting to encourage them to take measures of their own to secure the property.

The real tragedy of this? The house is spectacular. Hard wood floors, brand new paint and such... *sigh* perhaps I'm just bitter I didn't come up with the idea of squatting there first?

And on that note, dear friends, I am spent. So, happy holidays and happy new year and happy Wednesday, come to that. I'm here, I've just been dozing, and I'm full to the brim of stories to tell and musings on the vast spectrum of events in this mad existence. Stay tuned. It's gonna be a mad, mad, mad, mad, mad, mad year.