THIS MAKES STEAM COME OUT MY EARS!

Thanks to Zoraster for pointing out the confusion this post could cause, if it's not apparent that I've blockquoted an e-mail in here. Below that is my commentary on it. Here's the quote:

CHRISTMAS STAMP

Look who is getting their own 'Christmas stamp', but don't plan on putting a Nativity Scene on federal property?

USPS New Stamp

This one is impossible to believe. Scroll down for the text.


If there is only one thing you forward today.....let it be this!




REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of PanAm Flight 103!

REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993!

REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the Marine barracks in Lebanon!

REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the military barracks in Saudi Arabia!

REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the American Embassies in Africa!

REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the USS COLE!

REMEMBER the MUSLIM attack on 9/11/2001!

REMEMBER all the AMERICAN lives that were lost in those vicious MUSLIM attacks!

Now the United States Postal Service REMEMBERS and HONORS the EID MUSLIM holiday season with a commemorative first class
holiday postage stamp.


REMEMBER to adamantly and vocally BOYCOTT this stamp when purchasing your stamps at the post office.

To use this stamp would be a slap in the face to all those AMERICANS who died at the hands of those whom this stamp honors.

REMEMBER to pass this along to every patriotic AMERICAN you know!

And here's my commentary:
Okay, this is what pisses me off about that e-mail. I got it from otherwise well-meaning and (I believe) good Christian members of my family. They fell for the inflammatory rhetoric in the message, just as their friends did, and just as each of their friends did in a long chain going back to the year 2002 when this first started.

This message assumes that because the participants in the above-mentioned terrorist activities claimed to be Muslim that they represent all Muslims and that, as a result, Islam doesn't deserve a place in the US. Timothy McVeigh claimed to be Christian, but Christian groups don't claim him. The same is true of these terrorist groups. They're called "extremists" for a REASON. Their beliefs are extreme, outside the accepted mainstream of the religions they claim to represent. The fact that a religion sprouts extremist splinter groups does not lead to the logical conclusion that the religion itself (or its peaceful mainstream practitioners) should be denigrated.

Another gaping hole in the logic here is that the author equates Eid Al-Fitr (or Eid Al-Adha, they both use the same stamp) with Christmas. News flash: Muslims don't worship Jesus as a God or celebrate his birth as a Holy Day. There is no correlation between them. The first holiday mentioned (Eid Al-Fitr) is the end of Ramadan, a month of daytime fasting that roughly parallels the Christian season of Lent in a spiritual sense of self-denial, sacrifice, and preparation. There is no theological relationship. The second (Eid Al-Adha) celebrates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Ishmael at God's command. Note that in Christianity the tradition holds that Abraham was commanded to sacrifice his son Isaac (child of his wife Sarah) and not Ishmael (son of Sarah's handmaiden).

Next, it ties the introduction of this stamp, which is part of a series celebrating holidays of several cultural and religious traditions (Christmas, Kwanzaa, Thanksgiving, Cinco de Mayo, Hanukkah) to the placement of Nativity Scenes on federal property in observation of Christian holidays. If there was an Eid stamp, and no Christmas stamp, I could see a problem. That would constitute (in my mind) favoritism of the Islamic observations of Eid Al-Fitr and Eid Al-Adha over the Christian observation of Christmas. However, that IS NOT THE CASE. Anyone who's been to the post office lately knows that the USPS is happy to help you with all your Christmas needs, including selling you stamps with sacred or "festive" (read: non-religious) Christmas designs. So, the religions are being roughly equally represented at the post office. What this e-mail does, though, is tap into the festering heat surrounding the political issue of religious symbology (like "10 Commandments" memorials or nativity scenes) on public property. It's clever, rhetorically, to tie these two unrelated issues together, because it pulls along those readers who favor the placement of religious symbols on public property. You've probably gathered by now that I don't favor such placement, unless it's done in a completely representative way. If Nativity Scenes are placed in front of the post office at Christmas, then we need Skeletons for Dia de los Muertos, Menorahs for Hanukkah, green flags for Hajj, and Mugs of Marinara for Pastafarian Day, etc.

Okay, I'm done steaming. Just remember, when you buy those Christmas cards that say "Peace on Earth! Goodwill to Men!" that you're asking the recipients (hey, maybe even your own self!) to show Good Will to All Men, not just "Good Christian Men". As the Archbishop Desmond Tutu said recently: "All, all, all, all, all, all, all, all. All belong."

And, for the love of $Deity, learn to use SNOPES.

This result makes me ridiculously happy. I've always loved Katherine Hepburn's work. She's my favorite classic dame of all time, this quiz notwithstanding. One of the greatest lines of all time, regarding marriage, is attributed to her:

Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then. ~Katherine Hepburn

The sentiment was turned into a pretty darn good song by KT Oslin on her "Live Close By, Visit Often" album. She tweaked the words a bit, as you can see from the song title, but in numerous interviews she credited Hepburn's quote (and Hepburn herself) as the inspiration for the song.

Katharine Hepburn You scored 26% grit, 23% wit, 42% flair, and 23% class!

You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women. Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the Classic Leading Man Test.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 67% on grit You scored higher than 30% on wit You scored higher than 63% on flair You scored higher than 41% on class

Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

meme on geek stuff...

You Passed 8th Grade Science

Congratulations, you got 8/8 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Science?

i think it's especially geeky that i noticed they misspelled "neutron" and inadvertently asked me what the charge is on a neuron. (bonus points if you can tell me the right answer!)

Zyrtec

Is my friend! I've been using Zyrtec as needed and my nasal allergy spray religiously since I had so much trouble last week after I wrapped up the steroid treatment for the asthma. Yea, it's working! I can breathe again! I can even talk to my dog while we're walking and use the stairs at work. Breathing is SO NOT OVERRATED.

it made my ears bleed...

Sunday night I was driving through Waco on my way home, and I was subjected to Waco's "best" radio station for a while. A song by Trace Adkins came on, and I believe the title (according to the info showing on my radio dial) was "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk". I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP!

The long lesson to be learned here is "Don't listen to Waco radio late at night." The short lesson to be learned here is "Thou shalt not use the phrase 'She's got it goin' on like Donkey Kong' unless thou canst prove thy street cred." Let me just inform you, gentle readers, that Trace Adkins has got no street cred. This song should never have been written, let alone recorded. So that you might better experience this lesson, I have lovingly copied the lyrics for this piece of "music" from Cowboy Lyrics and you will find them below. Enjoy!

Turn it up some
Alright boys, this is her favorite song
You know that right
So, if we play it good and loud
She might get up and dance again
Ooh, she put her beer down
Here she comes
Here she comes
Left left left right left
Whoo

Husslers shootin' eightball
Throwin' darts at the wall
Feelin' damn near 10 ft. tall
Here she comes, Lord help us all
Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him outta his chair
Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault
It's so hard not to stare
At that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
(Aww son)

Now Honey, you can't blame her
For what her mama gave her
You ain't gotta hate her
For workin' that money-maker
Band shuts down at two
But we're hangin' out till three
We hate to see her go
But love to watch her leave
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
(Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' bout right there, honey)

We don't care bout the drinkin'
Barely listen to the band
Our hands, they start a shakin'
When she gets the urge to dance
Drivin' everybody crazy
You think you fell in love
Boys, you better keep your distance
You can look but you can't touch
That honkey tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk

That honky tonk badonkadonk
Yeah, that honky tonk badonkadonk

(That's it, right there boys, that's why we do what we do
It ain't for the money, it ain't for the glory, it ain't for the free whiskey
It's for the badonkadonk)

geek thanksgiving

I swiped this from my friend Vulpine who, i believe, swiped it from someone else in turn...

Signs You're Having Thanksgiving Dinner with a Geek

1. Dark meat is separated from white meat using a light probe.


2. Everyone mentions broadband, Linux or dual-core processors in
   their "I am thankful for..." speech.


3. A round of Counter-Strike: Source determines who gets to carve the
   turkey.


4. House decorated with plush microbes to celebrate the pilgrims
   bringing diseases to the new world.


5. Someone constantly keeps saying "The pilgrims had coffee, didn't
   they?"


6. Plates have a heatsink attached to them so you don't burn your
   mouth.


7. The cranberries are caffeinated.


8. Whipped cream for the pumpkin pie made with Dremel.


9. Three words: Lego gravy boat.


10. Pilgrim decorations have red hats instead of black ones.


11. The turkey is given the opportunity for a saving throw before
    being butchered.

supposed...

... to be sleeping. But I'm wide awake, so I'm up typing instead. I had a long nap this evening when I got back from walking Molly after work, and then a long luxurious bath. So I guess the current wakefulness should come as no surprise. It doesn't, really, even without the above-mentioned factors. I'm a lifelong night-owl and I've been indulging myself lately. I had such trouble breathing when I woke up this morning that I sucked on my inhaler and once my breathing returned to normal I just kinda went comatose for a few hours. That was great, in one way, because I needed the deep sleep to recuperate from all the struggling I've done with my lungs these past weeks. In another way, it meant I was three hours late to work and had to stay uber-late this evening to make it up. Even that was okay. I got it done, and luckily I had a task at work that was very well-suited to the quieter working evironment one finds at 7 PM in a near-abandoned office. More of the research I was working on last time I posted, actually...

Less okay is the reprimand I got from my pregnant friend about how long it's been since I called her last and the fact that I'm not going to her baby shower this weekend. Truthfully, though I love her dearly, she's a little difficult. We tell this story about ourselves, and we tell it in good humor, but it has a very real element of strain to it. The origin of the story itself is strife. She and I went to college together, and majored in the same thing, and for the last two years of our schooling had all but 1 class together (save summer school). When we were anywhere doing anything, we got along, unless we were in the car. It didn't matter which of us was driving, if we were in the car, we were fighting. We were not just "bickering" or good-naturedly ribbing each other, either. We were fighting like only two old people who've been married 50 years and know the darkest of ugly things about each other can fight. If I was driving, she'd try to tell me how to drive. I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE TELL ME HOW TO DRIVE!!! I'm all for a navigator. Strategically speaking, I want to know what street I need to turn on, that I have two blocks before I need to be in the far left lane, or that the restaurant is about 2 miles ahead on the right. Tactically, I figure out how to make those things happen, and woe betide the soul who thinks to tell me otherwise. So I nearly killed her on any number of occasions. I have never heard such violently ugly things come out of my own mouth (and to my own great surprise) as when she was telling me how to drive. I can think of only two other people I've ever really wanted to pound with my fists as badly as I wanted to hit her almost every time we were in a car together. She used to expect me to tell her the same stuff when she was driving, and I usually did so, albeit reluctantly. This didn't become a problem until she was the Designated Driver one infamous night in New Orleans. We were halfway back to our hotel and on some freeway bridge across the Mississippi River when she started hollering at me (who? quite intoxicated, eyeglasses removed, seeing sextuple me?) to sit up and help her watch for the exit signs. It was then that it became quite apparent to me that in our former lives, we HAD been and old couple married for 50 years. And one night, we were driving across a river bridge, and she started telling me how to drive (AGAIN) and I deliberately drove over the bridge railing into the river and killed us both to SHUT HER UP! That said, aside from our in-car experiences channeling our former lives, we get on great and I love her to death. I hate to disappoint her. Anyway, she's not thrilled that I'm missing her shower, but I've had this weekend in College Station planned for a lot longer than I've known about her shower and there are more folks I can't disappoint there.

In other news, I'm halfway through The Witching Hour by Anne Rice. Good book!

And now, back to bed. Ahhh, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream...

procrastination...

American Cities That Best Fit You:

65% Washington, DC

60% Boston

55% Atlanta

50% Austin

50% Honolulu

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

i would like to know how i could get boston so highly ranked when i said i wanted to live somewhere sunny and mild. last i checked, sunny and mild was NOT boston. :) otherwise, though i'm good with all that.

supposed to...

be doing research. Actually, I AM doing research right now. And no, you smartasses, "research" is not code for "slacking off". I'm looking up land records to verify that the right stakeholders are notified of an upcoming change so they can voice their feeble objections before we crush them utterly with the weight of good science and boxes (I'm not joking! A report in 5 volumes, each a 3" binder, fills up more than a breadbox!) of charts, graphs, tables, and dry commentary.

The nice thing about the research task is that it affords me a little quiet time in front of a computer while the passive bits are processing. So I can do my own processing...

And now, back to the asthma thing. Yeah, I know, you're probably tired of reading about it. It's okay. You can skip this post and come back later this week. I promise to be more entertaining then.

My sister made an interesting comment last night, when I was describing the suddenness of the attack I had in my office that sent me to the ER. She compared it to being unexpectedly dunked in a swimming pool by a reprobate cousin or bully from up the street. Picture it: you're hanging out, doing your thing, maybe in the middle of a sentence. With maybe half a second's warning, you catch the flash of movement, but before you can react your head is underwater. And there you stay. You struggle, you fight, you push for the surface, for air and breath and light and life. You can't get your feet underneath yourself. You can't reach the side. And here's where asthma differs from a neighborhood bully... Your friends can shove that bully off you and get you to the surface where you start to breathe again and plot your revenge. With asthma, you just stay down there. You know the air is just outside your lungs, just on the other side of the water's surface. You know there's air inside your lungs and you are surviving on it for a while. You also know that the attack can outlast the air you have inside. You could suffocate. Finality.

This round has been different from previous bouts I've had with asthma for three chief reasons: this attack was more severe than any I've ever experienced; there was no clear cause for it; and my inhaler didn't work. Aside from that one time in Aspen, when I was over a mile in altitude and the air was thin and my inhaler was too far away, I've never been scared by my asthma. After the initial, somewhat frightening realization that I had this problem, I realized also that I had a mild and manageable version of it. I knew my triggers, I knew how to treat it.

[Aside: Those of you who know me well should be now puzzling over the fact that I NEVER showed up to rugby without my inhaler. Never a practice, never a game. I sometimes had trouble tracking down the person who was supposed to be standing on the sideline holding it while I played, but I always brought it. In fact, I was likely to be sharing my inhaler with someone who'd forgotten hers. You should also, if you know me, realize that I'm much more likely to forget a detail than I am to attend to all of them. My attention to my inhaler is a fact of grave significance.]

I could never control asthma. I could only recognize when it was coming on and manage my response to it. That was enough for me. I never spent much time in the throes of suffocation, I was always able to get treatment before it got scary. This time, not only do I not know why it came on, all the management tricks I know didn't work. I was doing everything I could do, and I still couldn't breathe.

I said to a lot of people that I thought congestion in my chest caused by that round of flu i had was causing the breathing trouble. Truth is, I was trying to convince myself. I wasn't that congested. I've been lots worse before. And now, because I don't know where it came from, I wake up every day wondering if it's going to sneak up and get me again.

I'm terrified of playing rugby this weekend because I'm afraid that my inhaler will not stop an attack if it comes on. Yes, I know my old inhaler was old and sometimes they lose their potency. However, it worked on Sunday night and then didn't work 16 hours later on Monday. I can't believe the inhaler would go kaput in that time.

supposed to be...

...preparing a lesson for tomorrow night's class. Instead, I've been chatting with a dear friend that I'm glad to be reconnecting with. It's impossible to have too many intelligent women in your life. We chatted about the nature of butch/femme, and that conversation helped me to refine my opinions on the subject. It's something I've been thinking a bit about lately for various reasons, so it was good to get to say the things aloud that I've been tossing around in my head. I've also been farting around with my computer, downloading a spyware removal program, toying with my profiles on various websites, ripping my cd's to mp3, generally doing anything EXCEPT what i'm supposed to be doing.

*RINGRING* phone break!

Okay, having just spilled my innermost secrets to my little sister, I'm ready to get down to what this post was supposed to be about in the first place: asthma. I have been doing a lot to keep myself busy and not think about it lately. I was supposed to have a doctor's appointment this morning to discuss it and come up with a management plan. Unfortunately, that didn't work out. The office wasn't where its map said it was, and although my appointment was scheduled for 8:30, when I called to get revised directions to the office, the answering service said the office didn't open until 9. I don't have any idea how the directions and hours got so screwed up, but I'll be finding a new doctor before I set another appointment. Even now, in my post about asthma, i'm doing what I've been doing for a week: thinking and talking about everything EXCEPT how I feel about it.

I'm supposed to play in a rugby game this weekend. Last night was the first time I've gotten more than an arm's length from my inhaler since I went to the ER last Monday, and bragging about it just then made me go all tight and claustrophobic. Honestly, I don't know exactly where my inhaler is at this second, and that scares me. In fact, I'm going to go find it. Be right back.

Okay, so it was in the console of my truck. That's actually a pretty reasonable location for it, as long as I'm driving myself wherever I'm going. I really would like to get a few spares, so I can keep one at home and one in the office.

I've been trying to talk about this off and on for the last week. I haven't done a very good job expressing it to anyone, and if I've personally bored you with the discussion, I apologize. I do not fear. There are so few things in this life I'm afraid of that you might as well say there are none. I'm not scared of any of the typical stuff: bugs, snakes, bats, guns, death, violence, pain, heartache, heights, flying. In fact, relative to suffocation and stagnation (the emotional version of physical suffocation), I can honestly say I'm afraid of absolutely nothing.

So I'm supposed to be playing in a rugby game this weekend. It's an Aggie Alumnae game in which the old ruggers play with or against the current ones. I've been looking forward to this event for months. I was excited a month ago about the prospect of getting my boots back on and getting into my gear and pushing my body to keep up with my brain for an hour and a half. And then this asthma mess started up. I'm plain terrified.

I started trying to get to the root of this fear, because I'm ashamed that I have contemplated sitting a game out due to it. I have struggled with asthma before, and in a rugby context, it's very familiar. But something is different this time, and I'm scared in a way I've only felt once before. I think the difference is that before this, I've always known precisely what brought the asthma on. I've also always known exactly how to fix it. I suck on my inhaler, I wait a minute, air comes back into my lungs, I can breathe, all is well. There was one time in Aspen that it took a really long time for me to get an inhaler, and even longer for the attack to pass, and I got good and snotty drunk that night and cried on my friends' shoulders about it. This most recent attack was similar to that first in that I was without air for a very much longer time than I usually am. The difference, however, is that this time it wasn't triggered by playing rugby or by allergies or by anything I can put my finger on for certain. I'd been coughing a lot, with congestion in my chest, but later it turned out there was nothing unusual plugging up my chest. I was just standing in the copy room at work, having taken my inhaler just about 20 minutes before, and I suddenly couldn't breathe. Well, I could try, but no air moved when I tried to breathe. And here I am again, talking about the mechanics and the situation and the context, but not how I feel about it. I'm doing all I can to keep from facing this fear and feeling it.

So, I've gotten all distracted by other things as I've tried to compose this post, and now my neighbors are upstairs bowling for sex or something, so I'm going to end this ramble. More when I'm more coherent.

yea, weekend!

The weekend was a Good Thing (tm, pat pend). I had a blast with Brody and Jack and McDonough on Friday. I was a little sad that they had to leave so early, but ever so glad they came to visit. Dancing and laughing and flirting and renewing old friendships and making new friends -- who knew one night could be so good for my soul? I am never going to see the Jolly Green Giant in the same way again, I assure you. (If you want to know what that means, you have to know me well enough to have that conversation face-to-face. And you have to ask.)

Saturday I went and spent time with my sister and her lovely daughters. Her in-laws were visiting, and I love them, so that was bonus fun. I painted my sister's toenails for her, which is one of those fun things I haven't gotten to do much since we were kids living at home. Nostalgia! Don't spill the fingernail polish on the carpet!

Do you have any idea how bad a smell you can generate when you use an entire bottle of nail polish remover on a carpet spot? Do you have any idea how hard you can pray that your dad doesn't light up a cigarette and blow up the house because you used the whole bottle of polish remover?

After our nostalgic spa moment, we watched the Aggies roll over and play dead while OU kicked them in the ding-ding repeatedly throughout the first half. :( Apparently, they kinda redeemed themselves later in the game and it actually finished with a score of 30-36 (OU) so it must've been more exciting at the end. By then, I'd already dropped by to visit my friend who is recuperating from surgery and gone on home from there to cook dinner. I had a lovely dinner with a dear friend, and got to bed early to cap off a restful and relaxing Saturday. Her parting comment was that I need not cook so much or so extravagantly on her account... Little does she know that the cooking was all for me. She just gave me an audience, which is all the excuse I need for a cooking frenzy. (In case you were wondering: Tamari-marinated Sirloin ala The Garden Variety Goddess topped with sauteed mushrooms and onions, Garlic-Gruyere mashed potatoes, and an herb salad with red peppers and avocado)

And that was only 2/3 of the weekend! Sunday I played with Molly down at the river until she was tired (some of you may know how long it takes for that to happen), got a little nap, taught my LSAT class, cleaned my kitchen, and Renee came over for dinner. I laughed so hard I nearly shot asparagus out my nose. Some of you have undoubtedly shot milk or coke or apple juice out your nose at some point. You can imagine, then, how painful it would be to do that with asparagus. It was a standout evening in a signal weekend.

I'm blissed out by the wonderful company I passed time with this weekend. To each of you: my heartfelt thanks for your time and energy and goodwill. You all make my life better for knowing you.

Stop the Analysis!!!

There are days on which I want to shut my brain down. I want to be able to go to the lower left corner of my brainpan, click "Start" (always seemed a silly way to turn something off, to me) and "Shutdown" and watch my brain quietly pack away all its registry entries, close all its processes, park all its drives and close itself to new electrical impulses.

Since I can't do that, I attempt to assign silly little things higher priorities than usual so I won't have to think about the big things that I probably should be thinking about. The penalty for this is that I end up overanalyzing the little stuff. It's not productive and it's not worth the energy I'm blowing on it, but that knowledge doesn't stop the analyses in my head any more than the "Start" button can.

Last night, I rearranged my office. I moved two fully-loaded bookshelves across the room, put the couch against a different wall, and relocated a futon from the living room to the office. The geometry of my hall made it necessary for me to flip the futon over lengthwise and sideways to wiggle it into the room. The result was worth the struggle, though. I love the new layout in my office and I'm sure I'll love it even more once I've got the last of the boxes in there unpacked. Currently, the boxes serve as the Great Wall of Kimmie, separating everything on the right side of the room from everything on the left. I also love having my open living room space back. It was powerfully crowded with the futon, couch, love seat, and kitchen table in there. Now, to find resting places for my entertainment cabinet and a few old CD racks that are hanging around.

To sum up: asthma drugs make me hyper and cause me to rearrange my furniture alone like a mad kitten on the 'nip. PIXY STIX!!!!!! Overanalysis is BAD.

Breathing is NOT overrated.

I have, since Wednesday of last week, been suffering badly with asthma. I know this is not a unique condition, and lots of folks out there have it, too. I haven't had trouble with it in over two years, though, so it really caught me by surprise to have trouble breathing last Wednesday. Further, I've been surprised by the fact that it's been ongoing since then. The real waker-upper was that I had a nasty attack yesterday afternoon at work (only 20 minutes after using my inhaler) and ended up in the emergency room.

Luckily, the hospital staff were quick and friendly and got me a breathing treatment very efficiently. I even got a kids' room in the E.R. so i had SpongeBob and Spiderman wall art for scenery, which beats institutional gray any day. Once I'd had the breathing treatment, all was well again. It was kinda scary, because although I'm familiar with this whole procedure (O2 monitor, BP cuff, gown, breathing through a tube) from having seen my sister go through it, I've never been through it myself. Hello: New Perspective!

End result: I got a new inhaler, as my old one was rather -- well, old. I also got a round of prednisone, which is NOT my favorite thing. I've seen family members go on it before, and I'm not looking forward to the side effects, although I cannot argue with the efficacy of its therapeutic effects. Today is the first day in nearly a week on which I've been able to take the stairs.

Lasting effects: ummm... I'm mortal. I forget that sometimes, that my existence will eventually cease, I'll be dead, and everything I know here and now will be no more. Honestly, that doesn't bother me. It's going to happen, I can't stop it, and I don't think it'll be terrible. In fact, I kinda look forward to the adventure of change although I'm in no hurry to get there; it seems there's no good way back. Suffocation, however, is my single greatest fear. I can't craft any words that adequately convey how deeply terrified I am of suffocation. I'm not afraid of dying, and I'm not afraid of death. I am shredded to the bone over suffocation. I keep telling my co-workers who ask after my health that i'm okay and "breathing is NOT overrated". It's shamefully cliche, I know, but it's the only response I have that doesn't get too personal. I don't want to show them this fear and pain. I don't want to answer honestly because that allows them into me too much.

things i miss...

• cuddling


• my bed with no dog hair on it


• talking to jj


• hugs from my grandmas


• papa james' intergalactically famous "cajun gumbo ala fatboy"


• singing


• volunteering at the community theater


• being able to run until i want to stop, instead of when my lungs stop


• playing in the band


• new orleans (and not the bars on bourbon street, but the real city)


• beach time


• brody taking me shopping


• steak


• my godsons


• my peeps from the rugby team


• scuba diving


• the variety of intellectual pursuits available in school


• tom


• the disposable income i used to put into collecting music


• chaplin and karma


• sore muscles


• stretching

new book goodness

I bought Anne Rice's The Witching Hour and the two sequels, Lasher and Taltos on Monday night. w00tzoR!!!!1 I love reading. Seriously, I could give up my computer forever, as long as I had a limitless supply of books. Anyway, two chapters in, and i realize now why Rice is such a popular author. Goodness on a Sheet of Paper, I can't believe it took me this long to get around to reading Anne Rice. Diggin' it lots. Thanks, Rose, for the suggestion.

I also picked up Rice's "Sleeping Beauty" series, and a standalone novel called Belinda both of which she wrote under pen names. Finally, picked up Anais Nin's Little Birds and Delta of Venus. I read most of Little Birds (it's a collection of shorts) when I was house-sitting for a friend a few years ago, but I'm looking forward to finishing that collection and getting into Delta as well. I was pleased to find pretty, displayable copies at Half-Price books and am looking forward to having them on my shelf for many years to come, almost as much as I'm looking forward to actually reading them.

That's it for me for now. I'm struggling with asthma today, which is unusual, and i'm hoping it's not a sign that this flu turned into something upper-respiratory-related in my chest. I can't shake the cough.