Poor, poor me, etc.
June 11, 2007 § Leave a comment
Ugh. Spent the day in Hubbards cooking for ex-BIL’s bike vacation tour company. My back-breaking efforts* yielded pitifully little: two jars of Indian-ish carrot sticks in oil, four jars of red onion marmelade, four and a half jars of lemon curd. Tonight I’m supposed to be making rhubarb-strawberry jam— but I’m not. Shhhhh.
*Back-breaking because of the sorry state of posterior musculature, not necessarily the difficulty of the work, although it hurts so much. Perhaps, though, I’m just not cut out for manual labor. Squeezing! all! those lemons!, et al. boo hoo.
Additionally, the humidity here on the South Shore is hovering around 97%, so my hair has formed a hideous halo of frizz projecting two inches in all directions. Gorgeous, I tell you.
a restful two-hour sleep from 6 to 8 am (after a restless, damp, and painful night)
the notion of a rhubarb muffin from Joanne’s Bakery
Away from the Roll of the Sea on Here’s to You, bringing me back to seventh grade(?) chorus
new, second-hand, electrically-sound power cord for my iMac
delicious mushroom pasta made by Richie, wherein he used two full heads of garlic ohmygod-canyoubelieveit
an amusing Digging for the Truth
the prospect of Advil and Elavil contributing to a long summer’s nap
[fatal error: excessive self-pity. abort! abort!]
Elsewhere, Bowser is steadily declining, and had an apparent seizure ten days ago. My mother has vowed to put him to sleep when another occurs, regardless of whether he seems to be suffering. HOWEVER, his appetite is fine, and he still enjoys his favorite pastimes (going for walks, barking, lapping his ass, napping). The prospect of his death has kept me close to tears for a week and a half now (sniveling as I type), and of course I would very much like to see him before any final decision is made. Our precarious finances preclude an imminent visit, however, so to fulfill my wish, he may need to become immortal. OH, WOULD THAT IT WERE SO.