live to blog another day

Well, I made it. No pine box for me today. Oh, it was touch and go there for a while. I mean, if I'd kept up the whining for much longer, I'm pretty certain Mr. Lincoln (you know...IDP?) yeah, he was gonna do me in. ​But I woke up today feeling less crappy than the day before, so I let my daughter drag me out into the real world...the scary part with shopping malls and freeways...and now I feel sort of ok. Not fabulous quite yet, but let's face it, I was only sick for under a week. I should have a few more days of mild bitching before I have to hang it up and be hunky dory again.

As a side note...does anyone actually say "hunky dory" anymore? I have no idea where I came up with that one. Must be residual delirium from the fever. ​But no matter, I'm feeling better, and that's surely earned me a few outdated phrases.

On the down side of feeling better, I think I've also earned myself a date with a mop and a broom. My house is looking a whole lot worse for the wear, and I can't claim a near death experience to get myself out of it tomorrow. Oh well...I had it good for a few days. And on the upside...I wasn't hungry for at least four days, so surely I've lost a few pounds, right? And I was coughing so hard I feel like I've done at least a thousand stomach crunches, so my abs should be in tip top shape!

You know, having a wicked cold gets a bad rap, but it's really not all that bad. A few days of whining, ditching the household chores, involuntary weight loss, and accidental toning ​is nothing to sneeze at! Um...err...you know what I mean. I'm just saying, things are looking up. And as long as I was up, I figured I'd toss in a  new blog. It's a win-win situation if you ask me.

Until the next time...I'll be dancing through the dust with my brand new broom!​

dear easter bunny

This is it. The final stretch. Only days before Easter. And still, it snows.  ​

I know I've said it before, but I live in Georgia. It's supposed to be warm in Georgia. Hot even. I remember reading all about it when I was a kid, living in the frozen tundra of upstate New York, trudging through snow nearly up to my waist.​ Georgia has short winters, long summers, lazy days filled with lemonade and sweet tea...mint juleps and grits. Not snow in late March. Not frozen temperatures just days before Easter.

I was wrong. The Farmer's Almanac was wrong. It's freaking cold here, and I'm seriously thinking about getting a refund. Not that I love the hot summers...I don't. I long for cool breezes from June through September, but right now, I'd take a heatwave and be thankful for it, if only to avoid sleeping in wool socks and my cashmere scarf for one night. ​

Now, I'd like blame the groundhog and his misguided predictions, but as I was recently reminded, he's merely a captive prophet. (Ray Plasse, 2013) He likely wants no part in this circus he's forced to perform in each year. So if not the groundhog, who do I blame? The local weather man? No, he simply reports the weather, he doesn't predict it. Can I blame the pigs? I'd really like to find something new to blame the pigs for, but alas...pigs have no bearing on the weather. So where does that leave me? Right here, freezing my ass off in my 90-year-old farmhouse with crappy wiring, no insulation, and leaky windows...praying for spring to arrive with a vengeance.​ But my prayers have yet to be answered.

Now I'm left with only one wisp of a hope. The Easter Bunny. He brings joy, pastel colors, chocolate, and hopefully, this year, he'll bring warm weather. ​Because seriously, I was so cold yesterday, I forgot to blog. And that just can't happen. Hey, maybe if I'm lucky, Peter Rabbit will bring me a few packages of Thin Mints when he comes. Can't hurt to ask, right?

Until the next time...I'll be waiting for a basket filled with sunshine.​

this (damn) old house

I have no TV. No lights in my bedroom. And it's completely dark going up the stairs...and in the upstairs hallway...and down to the basement. The circuits on the main level of my house have blown, including the one for the heat pump in the basement.

Let's just say, living in a 90 year-old haunted farmhouse has it's moments.

I have no idea what happened this time. I'd like to blame the ghost. No really, I'd like to blame the ghost because I suspect that would be the easiest way to fix it. Calling the ghost guys to get them to kindly ask the spirit to fix my electricity would be so much better than getting a crew of electricians out here to rewire the entire house. That right there is the scariest scenario I can come up with. 

And it would have to be the on the coldest night of the year.

I know...I'm spoiled, so say my friends and family living far north of here where the temperatures dip below zero on a regular basis. But unless your zero degree temperature comes with no indoor heat, I don't want to hear it. If you can pee without it freezing between your body and the bowl, I still win. I have no heat, and my space heaters are now rendered useless because the outlets are fried. I have 2 kerosine heaters running so I can feel like I'm huddled around a burning trashcan in the middle of a post apocalyptic movie. (No offense to anyone reading this from their spot huddled around a burning trashcan...you totally win this round.)

I guess I'm going to have to pause in my edits to shower and clean my house tomorrow before inviting the electrician to poke around my circuits. (I didn't mean it that way...get your mind out of the gutter. It's too cold for those kinds of jokes...really!)

Ok, it's never too cold for those kinds of jokes. Carry on.

Until the next time...I'll be freezing to death.