Endolphins

There's a scene in Postcards from the Edge where this little blonde bubblehead comments on how much she enjoys jogging...because of the endolphins. I can't get that word out of my head. And I've decided that it is imperative that I start exercising again - I haven't been on the treadmill in a month - if I am to haul my sorry ass out of this pit of self-pity I've fallen into. So I just did a light 25 minute canter on the thing. And guess what, I'm full of endolphins.

A terrible thing happened today that reminds me that no matter how down I am, at least everyone is healthy and happy in my family. Some woman in the news left her 9 month old twin grand-daughters in the care of A SIX YEAR OLD, and went to the doctor. The poor kid decided to give them BOTH a bath. The phone rings, she goes to answer it, and yes, you guessed it, they both drown. That's terrible on so many levels; part from the suffering of the babies, and the loss of the mother, who's abroad studying, and think of the kid. She's scarred for life. I even feel sorry for the Grandmother, as asinine as I think she was in leaving them. I know how frustrating it is to be caring for children and not even having a moment to attend to anything for yourself. My eyebrows look like shrubbery and my toenails look like fish scales, I haven't been able to go see about myself. Poor old woman, took a stupid chance, and look what happened.

It's things like that that remind me to thank God for all His blessings on my family. Something to remember next time I start feeling sorry for myself.

The bleeding tree

My plum tree is bleeding. My gardener came while I was out on Friday, and took it into his head to quote, prune, unquote my trees. It was a wholesale massacre. I'm not even going to get into what he did to the glorious 20-foot tall pine out front. And the carambola tree that isn't even mine, which hangs over the neighbour's wall, providing a handy screen between my house and theirs. But what he did to my plum tree made me weep.

He butchered it. I counted 17 major limbs that he has lopped off, for some obscure reason assuming that I wanted them gone. Oh, my god, I have been complaining to everyone (except him, he conveniently doesn't have a cell phone) but nobody seems to understand how I feel about it.

Now, it isn't the plums you might be thinking about. It isn't one of those round purple things you get in North America and Europe. It's what we call a Jamaica plum, a fat red thing with an outie navel at the end. I planted that tree when I first moved into here, 8 years ago. It was just a stump. And it blossomed into a glory to behold.

And it is deeply entrenched in my heart. The day we brought Riley home from the hospital, my mother was up in it, picking plums (it bears in May) waiting for us. Throughout my maternity leave, I used to go there in the morning and sit under it in the shade, and let him look up into the branches.

With Megan, same thing. We used to walk out there in the morning and enjoy the coolest part of my yard. And when plums came into season we had an embarrassment of plums, a carpet of them covering the ground. People used to come and help themselves to those that hanged over the fence. It was always full of birds. And the branches were low enough for Riley to pick his own, and even Megan used to reach up and touch the leaves.

No more. He's gone and butchered it like Jack the Ripper, lopping off limbs ad hock, with not a branch within reach being allowed to survive. and I feel as though I've been physically attacked. I went to visit it today, and it's still bleeding, hugs gobs of sap falling down to the earth. Oh, my. I feel like I'm grieving for someone I lost.

A total babe!

Oh, man. It's a good thing I decided to be more positive in my posts, because I've got got tell you, I just met this total, total, proof-that-there-is-a-God babe. I mean, a blow-your-mind, can't stop staring at him, suck me into his universe babe!

Problem is, I can't tell you who he is, how I met him, of what he looks like, because if for some one in four hundred million chance he just happens to surf by here for no reason whatsoever, and recognises himself, I'll be so embarrassed I'd have to change my name, leave the country, and go live under a foreign rock.

Suffice it to say that he's got skin like coffee, perfect teeth, a smile like a Botticelli angel, enough testosterone to enrage a whole hive of killer bees, and eyes that make me want to forget I've got a husband and kids. If you want to know any more, you're just going to have to get my next book, because I can guarantee you that he's gonna be in there.

Ah, yes. God still loves me. My heart can still race and my body can still flush with a simple hello, and after two pregnancies in a row and all the resultant demands of momhood, it's good to remember that I'm still female and can still fall head over heels in like. And it's even better that this was a random, isolated, chance meeting that won't happen again so I can enjoy my hot little fantasy with impunity, knowing that my virtue is above suspicion.

Hooooha! It's good to be back!

Think positive

I am looking back at the last five posts or so, and I realise that all of them are of me complaining about how awful everything is. That's not me. It depresses me that for some reason i have started bitching and complaining about everything. But sometimes I feel so wiped out that it's a long long climb upwards toward normal.

Riley's doctor thinks that his bouts of coughing and gagging at night could be, at the very positive end of the spectrum, an allergy combined with an adenoid problem that can be treated with drugs and, failing that, surgery. On the other end, however, he is even entertaining the possibility of a bizzarre heriditary disease called neurofibromatosis, which nobody in my family has, or epi-freaking-lepsy. I know my son doesn't have epilepsy. I know he's going to be just fine. I'm going to have to go online and look up all I can about allergies. I've been feeding him chocolate milk or peanut punch every day for a month, because he doesn't eat and it's his only source of calories, and now it seems that I have been torturing him, since he's quite possibly allergic to milk. I feel a little guilty about that, like I've been slowly poisoning him.

Buyt in this post I'm going to think positive. He's going to be fine. And I'm going to find my energy back. Today, for work, i took 21 college students on a tour to the east coast, the farthest point on the island, to see the natural gas installations there. It's a three hour drive each way. Probably why i'm so exhausted that this post isn't making any sense. I'm going to quit while I'm ahead.

Meltdown?

Stupid gate. Stupid rain. Stupid flood. Four days after being forced to walk through surprisingly cold flood waters to manually open my electric gate because it has been malfunctioning for ONE MONTH and the gate guy can't be arsed to pass by and fix it, I am still sick as a dog. This is my third sick day in a row, which means I will have to hike my sorry ass to the doctor tomorrow for a medical certificate in order to get my sick leave signed. And what a day it was. So hoarse that it wasn't even worth it to try to talk, I sent my kids off once again and slept through the morning, waking up at noon for the first time in years.

The rest of the day has been a blur of exhaustion - and even resting doesn't make me feel rested - and hunger, and I'm too tired to cook, so it has been french fries, freezer remains, canned tuna, crackers and jelly for me all day.

I'm not having much of a happy streak these past few weeks; it's just been one thing after another. I was wondering if I'm having some sort of breakdown...or maybe a meltdown?

Wipeout!

Just as I expected: I've crashed and burned. When I fell asleep at my desk again yesterday, for the second day in a row, I knew I was in trouble. It just didn't make any sense, going at this pace and thinking I wouldn't collapse. Woke up this morning with a raging cold and a case of laryngitis. Sent the children off to day care, and have been in bed in a stupor all day. You know you're really sick when you can't even relax and enjoy a sick day.

And the rain! It's been raining steadily all week, so much so that the rivers have burst their banks, the roads are congested with traffic that has no way to go, and three adults and a 9 month old baby were killed by a tree brought down by the rain. How awful! It's grey and dark and miserable, and my backyard is under water. My electronic gate has been malfunctioning, so on Monday I had to get out of the car and walk through flood waters to open it manually. Hence the laryngitis, I suppose.

110 E-mails

Awright, here I am, back at my desk. In the cold air-conditioning instead of out in the fresh air. Sitting upright at my computer instead of loafing around the house drooling. With 110 e-mails to open. The last nail in the coffin of my vacation has officially been hammered in.

Aauuuugh!!!!

Later

Fell asleep face forward onto my desk! Woke up with the imprint of my watch on my cheek. At least it's a nice watch.

Whine, whine, whine

Well, here it is; the last day of my vacation. Although technically, Friday was the last day of my vacation, since Saturday and Sunday are free anyway, but let's not split hairs. I'm a little down, because it hasn't been easy. The kids were sick for such a long time, with their gastro.

They were still under the weather when I left for Jamaica more than a week ago. So I got there exhausted, and then the programme itself wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I was disappointed to the bottom of my heart to be making my presentation to just 2 people, after 3 weeks of hard work on it. I don't know what went wrong, but the whole thing just fell apart. Not enough advertising, not enough marketing, something. It just didn't seem as though anyone knew it was taking place, or cared. The next day, with the open mike poetry readings, was slightly better, but I still can't shake the Twilight Zone sensation of things being out of sync. The rest of the visit was a blur of fatigue, and I never felt that I had gotten into my stride, and never really felt at ease, even on my last day, which was a free day and I could have done the tourist thing. It was lonely, and not a whole lot of fun.

Then after a predictably late and arduous flight (BeeWee (our beloved local airline) as usual was hot, crowded, nasty, with graffitti on the seats, grime all over the place, and absolutely unpalatable meals) I was home again. Three days left of my vacation, I slept off the Jamaica jag on the first, and then sort of milled around for the other two.

Then Riley got sick again. Some sort of flu that has him coughhing and gagging at night, waking up screaming, and needing to be held and comforted. So long, sleep. As a matter of fact, it's 10:30 p.m. and he's still up, playing with my mouse and asking a million questions.

So I'm beat, in a bad mood, and feeling a general sense of non-accomplishment. Like nothing really turned out right. And I'm back t work in the morning. Hooray. But all I've done all vacation has been to clean up puke and change diapers and deal with other people's needs and take care of everyone else but my own. And I wonder if there will ever come a time when someone will see about my needs, and cater to my fancies and make me feel better.

Anyway, if you're of a mind to read any of my blogs from the trip, and see some of my photos, you can stop by my website here.