Spring'n'things

There is no secret service that could match an old lady. I am telling you. There is nothing one can ever do escape the watchful eye of your grandmother, when she’s on a prowl. :D

But oddly enough, with everything happening, my life is remarkably good right now. I could name a dozen things that are terrible or tragic, but in truth, I feel uncharacteristically optimistic and calm. Let’s blame the spring, shall we? I doubt there’s any point in taking pickies, since everyone knows springs are pretty, but there is no doubt that spring is better than (late) winter, like summer is better than fall. Falls, like evenings, represent an end and I do not like ends. Like I could never compare spring and summer, because I am a creature of light and heat, but I love this chilly freshness in the morning, which slowly crawls out of its shell, develops and hits you full blast with a 100°F by the time for a luncheon – better be wearing short sleeves and t-shirt when that occurs and my lovey lovey flipflops.

Sometimes, when your life gets sticky, there come nights when you really can’t sleep. I didn’t think that’s supposed to be literal, but there actually has been a month not far back, when I would lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking – how did we fuck up so badly? How are we ever going to get out of this?...  There would be fighting, tears, no sex, no productivity… Then a friend told me – a financial crisis is not the end of the world. It may feel like it, but if you have everything else, just not the money, that doesn’t make you a lost person. It makes you a moron to act as if it was. The trick is not to start selling off stuff you’ve accumulated so far. That’s indeed what losers do - the trick is finding a lucrative way to get out of it, pronto. I don’t know if we’ve found a way to become quite rich, but we are certainly no longer in the ‘staying awake at night, listening to the dog fart’ period. It just took a little clawing out of a proverbial pit.

Or it could just be the spring.

Necessity is the mother of invention. NEVER overlook that, never forget. Laying down arms in the heat of battle is the most loserish thing you can ever do. ANYONE could do that. There’s no fighting spirit in that at all. Laying down arms AFTER you’ve fought, cheated, stole, tricked, fucked all the officers AND their horses and lost all your castles, then consider defeatist strategies. But until then, don’t hide underneath a corpse and wait for a miracle. You’d be missing all the fun.

On a related subject, Barky nearly had a fit yesterday, when we went to the doctor’s office for a yearly anti-rabies shot. I wonder if kids will act the same, only louder? It’s not like anything bad ever happened to her there, but ghosts of a million dead pets must linger over the building  and she’s never ever stepping into it voluntarily. This was the first time anyone gave her a cookie and she wouldn’t even sniff it. Tiny freak, clad in normality :))

Also, I have a zit on my chin. A ZiT. I’m 35 and I have a zit. I understand having a mustache – you get it if you kiss someone with a mustache very many times – but a zit? And yesterday my sis bought some of the most fattening and jummyest food in existence, which naturally killed my dieting resolve, but it was oh so worth it. The good thing about being very fat and losing 10 pounds is nobody really notices and all clothes still fit, so you never have to bring it up in a conversatin. Ten more to go. Then fingers crossed the damn therapy will work, because I am not too thrilled about needles either. I’ve pricked my finger on a thorn few days ago and still won’t shut up about it :P

Writing about Nuada brought me to a strange place. There’s a moment of serenity around the characters, between when he already knows he is too late to seek absolution – when all the flowers in the old professor’s room die -  and the time he commits suicide by courtesan. I started working on a scene yesterday, when he finds an old doctor’s bag (my great-granddad’s) amidst Kay’s things and asks if she’s ever learned to use these things she’s been blessed with inheriting. They spend a day in some old world, slightly ‘Mists of Pandaria’ seasoned, where she learns how to use every tool in the bag. It’s perhaps the moment when she decides to start actively changing things for the better by doing painful and gory things. My dog has never been as frightened as she was yesterday, which sucked big time, but what we did will ensure she doesn’t get ill and die a very painful death. Funny profession, really… A traveling healer. Traumatic, yet touched by God.

And now I’m back to a diet of apples and tea. Another gruesome, determined act. And showering. Oh, how I hate showering. Almost as much as I hate socks :P