twinkle, twinkle, little star

you're older than you feel you are

Christmas, twenty years ago. Events stay the same. It's we that change.

I am, however, required to notify you all that due to circumstances beyond our control, Chris and I are sponsoring a new holiday this year. Say hello to Christmas 2: Electric Bugaloo.

The fortunate part about not knowing what lies ahead of you is that sometimes, not knowing makes it possible to muddle through a difficult situation. Sometimes foreknowledge only makes what is coming more difficult to bear.

I apparently don't have as much of my hearing back as I thought. Earlier this evening, Jeff came into the computer room:

"That music's really loud."

"Hrm. This sounds like my usual volume level..."

Jeff shakes his head, gives me his best "I love you but you are one crazy deaf wench" look, and says no. Apparently I was shaking a few rafters.

Oops.

Currently a little bit ill (said in the same voice that someone would use to say that they're "a little bit pregnant").

I'm under a doctor's care, am taking plenty of meds, etc. If you've got suggestions on easy-to-eat foods for me - I can't taste much but have to eat regularly because my medications make me queasy - leave them here.

No, I don't have the flu. That'd be too simple, and straightforward. :D Explanation soon.

Whether or not what I have could be correctly termed "Martian Death Flu" is somewhat irrelevant; anything that forces you to sleep for over eighteen hours a day - while you're on vacation, no less - counts, as far as I can tell.

For those of you who hated the sunny, cheerful phone calls I made from the beach, revenge is yours. I have spent the last 24 hours huddled up on Noah and David's couch, under blankets, alternately sneezing and snuffling, and making the blindingly-obvious statements that I always make when somewhat feverish.If ever there was a hint that perhaps it was time to go home, this is it. True, I need sleep, as I also need hydration and probably a few calories (hard to get interested in eating when all food tastes like unsalted cardboard), but what I really, really need right now is some kitty ministrations.

Four-thirty finds me beachside, sprawled on Noah and David's multicolored beach towel, camera in hand, in the hopes of catching one of what Noah describes as Redondo Beach's spectacular sunsets. They're pretty picky out here, these sunset connoisseurs. Knowing that tomorrow, the sun will - yet again - set into the ocean means they're not nearly so excited by its daily happening as someone who will only see a maximum of six such occurrences before flying back east again.

Despite my laughter and my joking about California weather to my friends, it does get cold here, although not as cold as the locals would like you to think. The beach winds at sunset have teeth sharpened over miles of ocean; they chew past the breakers and roar onto the sand, looking for something to devour.

Me.