Eons ago I promised some unconventional headgear photos to Poolagirl. It took me forever, but given that I’m sitting here coughing up a lung, I decided it was the perfect moment to plunk on a hat and blackmail talk G into snapping it for posterity.
So here I am in all my un-makeup-enhanced flu-bug-faced glory. My only concession to glamor is the lovely velveteen jester cap perched atop my head.
|I don’t look like any celebrity, alas. Perhaps if I were thinner, I might aspire to look a bit like Wayne Newton after a bender. Except I never dyed my hair coal black. Whaddya think?|
I’ll admit it isn’t a bucket, but it was the best I could do on meds-addled brain. When I am conscious I’ll try to bump things up. For now you get a jester hat.
Ironically there’s a big dark background. It’s only partly edited in. For some reason – the camera angle, something along those lines – it put a HUGE dark shadow behind me, against a grayish-puke-colored wall. I edited to cover up a little of the lighter background – but very, very little, believe it or not.
Besides, hubby the packrat has decorated the sides of our little metal pantry thingy (which sits around the corner and was just visible in the outer fringes of the original image, before substantial cropping) with all sorts of quirkyish nonsense. Doesn’t he know that refrigerator magnets and other paraphernalia go on refrigerators and not metal pantry thingy sides?
Though to be fair, my darling daughter has elected to clutter the hell out of the front of our refrigerator. There are a dozen or so notes, receipts, invitations and so on, tucked beneath various magnets and stuck to the front of our fridge.
Yes, I am both married to a pack rat and gave birth to one. I can’t remember what channel it’s on, but there’s a new show called “Hoarders: Buried Alive.” It deals with people whose lives are completely overtaken by their tendency to hold onto EVERYTHING. I can relate: I live with a couple of ’em. Which makes me doubly crazy because G is a neat-freak hoarder. How’s THAT for an oxymoron in action?
I’m pretty spartan in my tastes and when things get too stacked up it does a number on my system, just leaves me jittery and stressed. I had ONE extremely nice Monet print, framed at last and ready to put on the wall. That was before G moved back in. Since he’s here, every spare inch of wall is decorated. Except not with my Monet print, on which he managed to bust the glass before I had a chance to rescue it. That was when he moved in. A year later it’s still sitting behind something in the bedroom, waiting for new glass. I am NOT a happy camper about the fact. The frame was expensive and the print was a gift.
I need to sit down and do some serious meditating, get my head back in the right order and progress past this funk before it does any more to destroy my life.
It’s been an odd beginning to an odd week. Despite the frustrations with my health and the sense that this job is on its last legs, I am convinced that it is the right thing at the right time; an extension of “everything happens for a reason.” I’ve had ongoing voice-related issues for years, yet have been dependent on my physical voice for my livelihood. That includes this job. The Universe is telling me in no uncertain terms that it’s time to do things with my other abilities, and I’d better get cracking. I’ve never had so many bouts with my health, so close together that they’ve endangered my job. (Except when working for the phone colossus a few years back, and that place was both literally and figuratively toxic to me.)
A few days ago a former colleague contacted me, following up on something he’d proposed some time ago. I’d written him off by now. However, it may have yet been another instance of everything in its time. We had long ago discussed a joint business venture, one in which I’d (hopefully) play a behind-the-scenes role. By its very nature, it won’t depend on my vocal abilities to fly.
I am ready for semi-retirement with a decent income. I’ve done more than my share over the years and it’s time to start accepting the karma paycheck I’ve been working toward. My next endeavor, whatever direction it takes, will be a healing one for me and for others. I’m looking forward to it, and then some.