Sunday, July 28, 2013

La-la-la-la I Can't Hear You

After my recently renewed commitment to blogging more regularly, I ended up missing a couple of weeks.  I'm worried that if I don't get something up in the blogosphere today I'm just gonna slack again.  

It's not even that I didn't have good reasons for not posting.  I've had a lot (a lot, no really, A LOT) of "stuff" going on, including 1200+ miles of travelling and 95% more social time than my introversion typically allows, extra hours at work (but these ones are filled with more work than the others so I think it balances?), and going through 10 years of items around my home in prep for post-selling the house moving.

I'm exhausted just writing that.  You people just exhausted me.  That's it, guilt is much easier, I'm stopping here and taking a nap.

Enjoy this piece I wrote a few weeks ago when I actually felt like writing.  ;)


I've mentioned before my inability to sleep well for, well ever in my life number of years, and if you were good readers you'd have been paying attention and I wouldn't have to remind you what I tell you.  Honestly.

One of the ways to cope has been to use earplugs.  I didn't particularly like using them when I lived alone, which made it all vicious circle of hearing noises that kept me awake or worse, NOT hearing noises and imagining them anyway.  (By the way, the imagined noises were all giant rats and thieves trying to break in through a window.  True fact.  Sometimes being amazingly creative works against me.)

Being of overly-sensitive alertness in the wee hours of the morning meant that any time I wasn't at home in my own bed imagining vicious rodents, I was likely visiting someone whose household included a snorer.  Now I have nothing against snoring or the people that do it.  Some of my favorite people snore.  Like me.  Although I think when women partake it should be "sighing lustily" or something.  I might be crossing writing genres tonight though.

Upon first being married to Mr. Eggshells, the combination of the move, the stress of new house, new country, new marriage, new life etc. meant that for the first few years, I had bouts of insomnia.  Thank <insert deity of your choosing> that now I've grown accustomed to his presence to the point that now if he's not snoring I can't sleep.  (DOH!)  And if you think I'm kidding on thanking that deity I'm not.  I know I can imagine what crapola less than stellar items I'd be writing if I were more brain dead from lack of sleep than I am just being my normal brain dead.

Knowing this might be an issue, I had stocked up on my preferred brand of ear plugs.  ----->
These are great because they're wax and they mold to the shape of your ear without being abrasive.  I've used them for 20+ years with great results...can't even hear the thieves with them in.

One of the other things I'm sure you all recall reading in this blog is the severity of my allergies at the best of times, and the impact that moving to a foreign land has had on those.  I spent my first two years here chronically swollen from various environmental allergens that got added to the already ridiculous list of environmental and food allergens already bombarding my poor immune system.  As such, I've had significant respiratory congestion, which of course affects everything else in my body because everything's connected to the hip bone.  (Hey, don't look at me like that, I didn't write that song.)

I had noticed that after a particularly nasty bout of allergies/cold/flu that my hearing hadn't rebounded.  There was tinnitus, and balance issues (more than usual, shut up!) that were lingering so I went into the doctor's office in case I had upped the ante and gotten a case of pneumonia or bronchitis.  After explaining my concerns, he checked my chest (with a stethoscope, perverts!), my nose, and my ears.  He said "they're pink".  Not comprehending what that meant, I said, "Pink, as in inflamed?".  His reply, smirking "No, pink as in it looks like wax."

Yes, the wax ear plugs, contrary to how they behaved in Canada, changed their form and structure.  I believe that this was completely due to the air and water in the United States being of an inferior quality.  Apparently over several months, small particles of wax had accumulated and hardened in my ears, causing the symptoms I was experiencing.  

The solution was, of course, to have me put drops in my ears.  Wax softening drops.  When I went to the pharmacy I was not overly pleased to see that pretty much every box had a picture of an older gentleman with 3" hairs coming out of his ears as the poster boy.  Erm, man.  But opting for the "suck it up, buttercup" method to get me through this, I bought the kit and religiously* used them for the two weeks the doctor had required.

*Complete with incense and chanting.

The day of the appointment arrived and I hurried there, hoping to find the relief I needed from the now sore and cranky ears (they were pink now, but from all the machinations with the soaking kit).  At this point I should explain that to get the wax out now that it was apparently softer (!), was a matter of filling a syringe with water, inserting the needle into the ear canal to get it behind the wax block and gently pushing the water through to flush out the wax.  Except it didn't work the first time.

The doctor then walked me out of the exam room, to the washroom off the lobby.  We did get some odd stares.  Considering where I live, that's saying something, too.  In the washroom, he had me lean sideways over the sink and we tried it again, using gravity to help.  The wax popped out, my eardrum felt like it shattered, and I had a wave of off-balance that dropped me to my knees.  But I could hear out of it again, which was a relief.  After a few minutes of recovery, we repeated for the other ear.  Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Happy, hearing, all is right in my world, I paid my visit fee and headed out to the car to take myself home.  However I forgot that I had been nearly deaf, so when I started the motor, the radio which had been barely audible on the drive there nearly blew my entire body out of the vehicle.  

At least I know now how old age might feel like.  If I make it there.  

Sunday, July 7, 2013


Hey y'all!  I'm not going to point this out but it seems that I've finally gotten into a rhythm with updating.  Weekly isn't too bad considering I have a full time job and am trying to write at least three "great American Canadian Can-Am" novels.  But I didn't mention it, lest I jinx it.

I'd also like to mention that to my utter shock and incredulity, I have a few other readers besides my established family and friends.  Welcome, to those of you who have inadvertently stumbled here and got stuck.  I promise the traps will disintegrate once the brainwashing is complete.

Okay, so here's the thing.  I was in counselling a while back.  Any of you that know my history won't be surprised it was grief counselling.  It did me a lot of good, even just to be able to talk to someone outside of everything that was going on.  One of the things she told me during a session was that my dreams seemed to be very vivid and that I recalled a lot of very specific things from them, and that it wasn't always the case when people were trying to recount things from their subconscious.  I remember a lot of dreams from my childhood and have also had recurring dreams, that pick up months or years later, like a story.  I've always put my dream style down to a couple of things - one, having a very active imagination, and two, having the ability to pick up a lot of events around me unconsciously that get processed later by said subconscious.  

All that lead in was to tell you all that I dream about Mississippi.  Only it's in London, England.  Now, I've been to both places, and had an extremely enjoyable time with good friends and lots of activities.  This dream keeps coming back to me every few months, and it's always Mr. Eggshells and I, in Mississippi for the July 4th celebration.  But it's actually London.  But then there's our friends from Mississippi (yes, I'm going to keep typing it out because it's FUN).  The activities vary from improv shows with drag queens to driving roundabouts, to a gaming shop, to a huge house part, etc...  It's like both of my visits to those places merged in my head and became one big conglomeration of story.  The thing is, pretty much none of what I dream about it actually happened.  In either locale.

And the other thing is, the dreams stay with me all day afterward.  So right now I'm in mild anxiety mode because we were dropped off by our coach bus on a hill in Mississippi/London in the middle of the night without a hotel reservation or any idea when or where we were to meet up with the bus the next day to continue on back to home. I keep thinking I need to Google for the bus station, but I don't know if I should try or  It's confusing being me.

Oh, and did I mention that one of my biggest childhood fears was being lost because I got off a bus at the wrong stop?  Damn you Family Affair and damn you Buffy and Jodie for getting off the bus and traumatizing me for life!  I actually did get off the bus once because it got to the end of it's run and everyone got off.  I thought it was going to go back to the station and we'd be lost because I didn't know where that was.  My babysitter and sister had to follow me off because I staunchly refused to get back on the bus, and then the babysitter called my Dad to come pick us up.  The lasting memory I have of that was Dad didn't even get mad at me.  And he was my hero that day because he saved us.  I was 6 years old I think.  LOL

And now...five things from this week:

5.  Mr. Eggshells, upon hearing that I had people adding me on GooglePlus and commenting on my blog, immediately said I was famous and he was going to buy a Ferrari.

4. I checked my blog page stats (cuz I hear you're supposed to do that) and was surprised that 11 people had visited my page today.  When I mentioned it to Mr. Eggshells he said "Is that the post of your boobs?"  I said it didn't indicate which blog post they were reading and wait, I don't have a post of my boobs.  He said "Oh that must be on my blog then."  

No, he doesn't have a blog.  At least not one of which I know...  I'm not sure if I'm more upset by the thought that he has my boobs on a website or that the girls only got 11 page views today.   :/

3.  Challenged by a friend, I found this website of alternate punctuation.  While it offers endless possibility and you may see some of it here on the blog, for now I'm just too darned lazy to install the font pack.  It may have had something to do with the heat wave that was still trying to kill me, or at the very least, causing numerous volumes of unsleepability.  It is so a word.

2.  On July 4th, being as exhausted as we were, we spent the day watching movies.  There is nothing more amusing to us geek types than a dated movie that uses such amazing high tech as "a program that will assess the exposed silver from a Polaroid picture and scan these things called pixels to try to re-create the photo image".  Ah the good old days.  (Oh and the first person who asks me what a Polaroid is will be slapped.  Mercilessly.)

1.  For the first time since I was 4 or 5, I GOT STUNG BY A BEE.  I was out fighting with the garden (no, not even going to try to pretty it up and call it gardening), when four of the damn bastard bugs swarmed my head.  I managed to kill one but not until after he stung me in the abdomen.  Yes, I know I'm a horrible person because we need bees but my primal instinct kicked in because I DIDN'T WANT TO DIE FROM MULTIPLE BEE STINGS.  The fact that they're probably the only thing I'm not allergic to doesn't matter.

Y'all have a good week!  :)