Damn Scary Stuff

My daughter and her family rented a couple of DVD's and were having family movie night.

Shortly into the movie, they all started craving pizza. Not only were they craving it, they could smell it. She did some checking and found out that a company in Brazil has discovered a way to print the CD and DVD covers with ink imbedded with scent. As it heats up the room or car are filled with the aroma of whatever they want to sell the consumer!

Can you imagine the potential?

I could imbed the ink on my husband's science fiction movies with my perfume...gives me goose bumps.

Watching a zombie movie and the room fills with the coppery smell of blood.

A government documentary explaining why the middle class should pay more taxes while corporations and the top 1% get more tax breaks could fill the room with the smell of fresh baked apple pie....or, more aptly, a stockyard.

Yup, some scary shit!

It's Just Different

My husband and I are avid hunters. Nothing better than a good shot that hits its mark. Better still is that we don't need licenses or a specific season to hunt. We just need our Nikons, our tripods, various lenses and filters. We've also found that it is nice, but not necessary, to go on our little expeditions with a large soda and a bag of Bold or Traditional Chex Mix (reduced sodium, dang it!).

We spent six hours hunting on Wednesday and a little more than six yesterday. Both days were hazy and though we know better, we headed out at noon. The middle of the day is the absolute worstest (yes, I know) time to take pictures.

The drives and hunts were filled with joy and bits of adventure. We had some great conversations, a moment of contentious debate, even snuck a kiss in...or two. The weather was about as perfect as it can get, except for the haze, that is! Where is the north wind when you need it, huh?

I even caught my husband checking me out...love that little rust colored blouse with just the right amount of "hey, the girls are here!"

We drove through the mountains on the east side of the valley. Hit a couple of our favorite spots and discovered a couple more. At each spot we would get out of the car, focus, click, click, click.   I occasionally finish first and go back to the car to read or to write; nibble on a little Chex Mix. I might just find a warm rock or downed tree to sit and be still. He is more adventuress, often venturing up the side of a mountain or down into a draw. If he detects the slightest sound that there may be falling water nearby, it becomes his mission to discover it. He is an explorer at heart.

We parked at several points where the entire north valley could be seen. Mt. Shasta, the Trinity Alps, the Sisiyou Range, Castle Craggs, the coastal ranges, south past Red Bluff and north all the way to what could possibly be Mt Bachelor in Oregon. On a clear day the photos would knock your socks off. We didn't even take the cameras out of the car. It was hazy and we were lazy! We just sat, immersed in nature and daydreams.

Six hours of being in nature. Witnessing the wild flowers and new green of spring, the rolling hills, steep granite cliffs and acres and acres of volcanic rock. Some of the creeks were dry rock beds, some had water rushing or  shallow streams gently making way to lower ground.

For every half hour of just "being" we have about 5 minutes of focus and click. The experience fills your spirit with an unimaginable juiciness of life; a prodigious love (and lust) for nature. I want my Nikon to record every marvelous scene, so I take this shot and that shot and another one for good measure. Horizontal, vertical; hell, I'd take it up-side-down if it would help keep the moment alive long enough to share the fullness of it.

This morning, I sit at the computer, hunched over.  The photos I took are flat, lifeless. Our eyes have the depth of field.  The spectrum of colors we see are so wide compared to the limited colors one exposure, at one setting can record; even on a Nikon!

But it isn't just that the image I see on the screen doesn't share the scents with you. It doesn't gently brush your cheeks with a hint of a breeze. There are no birds singing, no cows braying nor the knock, knock, knock of the woodpeckers, in that two dimensional image.The grace of the hawks and buzzards soaring in the thermals just at the ridges' edge is missing. You can't feel the energy of the people and animals and elementals who have passed through the very spot the picture was taken. You can't smell the soil or feel the warmth of the rocks.

This morning I deleted so many pictures that were lifeless, shallow and, quite frankly, boring, because there was no life in them.  As I deleted them though, I remembered the day, felt the feelings, smelled the smells. My gratitude for sharing such a beautiful day with my husband, for living in such incredible beauty fills my cup.

I am also deliriously happy that digital photography is a reality. Can you imagine having to wait for a week to get prints only to be disappointed with the results?  Wait, if I had them printed, like in the "old days," I could stimulate the memories again and again and again!

Help! How do I recover deleted files?  What ever happened to film and negatives????

 

 

Blind Leading The Blind

Forest Service in California used the term "Controlled Burn" in the recent past to describe one of the housekeeping tasks of the forest. Controlled would be the dominate term; informing the public that Forest Service is going out to clear some underbrush which would make forest fires of the uncontrolled type easier to contain, control, and manage.

These planned fires are now called "prescribed" burns. Of course, for you and I, just dumb regular Joe's that would make us believe that the forest doctor (Dr. Smokey?) is treating the environment for some type of illness.

Prescribed fires often ruin the environment, destroy food sources for wildlife, destroy wildlife and often, like the prescription drugs advertised on television, have other serious side effects.  Often the bulldozers used to create the "fire lines" cause incredible damage to the soil prompting erosion.

Some controlled fires develop authority issues, running amok. The Cerro Grande Fire in New Mexico burned 48,000 acres which included 280+ homes. In 2006 in California, the Sierra Fire jumped lines and burned 10,854 acres. 2012 "only" 103 acres were burned during the Creek Fire. The San Felipe Fire in 2013 went wild and destroyed 2,781 acres.

California released a plan ( Aug/2013) to burn (bull doze or spray with herbicides) over 38 million acres during the 2013/2014 period. That is one-third of the state and five times the normal area of forest housekeeping.

I know there is great controversy over this practice but isn't it weird how the verbiage is changed for public consumption? Makes the pill easy to swallow?

Oh, and the main reason for this post. Our local television station (Hi, KRCR)  reported that Forest Service announced there will be a "prescribed burn" in the Whiskeytown National Forest today. That report was followed up with the weather report which announced high winds today with gusts expected around 40 mph in the afternoon.

I wonder if Forest Service ever talks to Weather Service.

Good news; north winds today and I live east of Whiskeytown. I can go about my regular business. Muletown Road and Zogg Mine Road people, you might want to hitch your horse trailers up to your pickups and make sure grandma's china is packed.

Editing

In the early days of Internet, when all connections were dial-up, my son, Adam, would often tell me I had a 2400 bit brain but a 1200 bit mouth. Mouth just doesn't translate the message Brain cooked up.

He would tease me with, "Mom, your brain cuts checks your mouth can't cash!

(Have I ever mentioned that irreverence runs in the family? DNA!)

I just read over some of my posts here and realized that my editing skills quite often suck!

Epiphany # 1,396, 455: My fingers can't cash those checks either!

My promise: I will read all posts 3 times before hitting the "Publish" button.  Wait! I gave up lying for Lent...so....uh.....nevermind!

Warmth

My friend, Michael, wrote a blog about rain recently. He entitled it "Rain" but it was truly much more about his own gentle and peaceful spirit. It could be the stillness inspired by rain that reacquaints us with our own nature. We are often restricted from that awareness when consumed with mowing, trimming, shoveling and other outside busy-work.

I, too, love the rain. Especially the first rain of the season. As the drops of water baptize the earth, the alchemy of the pairing creates the incredible smell that could never be mistaken by anyone, for anything. except "first rain".  The smell commands me to go sit on my rocking chair on the front porch and sniff and breathe and  relish in it. Just between you and me, it also commands me to grab a handful of newly dampened soil and eat it but I have been able to stand in my own power and resist that command for many, many, many years, mostly.

As I was telling Michael, too many days of rain can have awful effects on me. Remember the movie with the cute, cuddly furry animal that comes with 3 rules. Rule 1: Never feed after midnight.
Rule 2: Never get it wet. Rule 3:  hmm, I don''t recall rule 3 but it is probably something like: If you have broken rules 1 or 2, run like hell because cute and fuzzy just morphed into evil and dangerous!

I am much like those cuddly little critters, though you can get me wet and I love to snack after midnight. The scary part of me is that insanity lies just beneath the surface of my typically quiet nature. I also come with a set of rules but for the life of me, I cannot find the list. Surely one of the rules, closest to the top is to make sure that I do not go without sufficient sunshine and warmth during the tail end of winter.

Unlike the fuzzy little critters movie, I'm going to tell you what will happen if my spirit is deprived of sunshine for too long a stretch. First clue that melt down is happening, I pull on 3 layers of sweaters and insist on wearing pajama bottoms all day. (If you come to my house at 2:30 p.m. and I answer the door in blue, plaid flannel and have shoulders like a linebacker, RUN, do not hesitate, do not look back).

Second clue is that giant V between my eyes, though you shouldn't have stayed long enough or gotten close enough to observe it if you had paid attention to rule 1.  Rule 3 is pretty much too late because my hands will be around your neck and you will be flailing!

Just a side note: It really is a mystery how arthritic hands, which do not have the strength to open a gallon jug of green tea for 11 months of the year, can suddenly develop the fortitude and vitality of the Hulk during an overdose of precipitation.

Patrick Henry is credited with saying, "Give me Liberty or Give me Death." One of the many quotes that I may be remembered for will be "Give me Sunshine or I Keeel you!"

When the sun does shine but it is still too cold or windy to leave the comfort of my home you can often find me laying on a quilt, with or without a pillow, in a sunny spot on the floor. It's not as effective since we replaced all the windows and glass doors in the house but it still does the trick.
That also explains why we no longer have cats; too much competition for the sunny spots.

Now, remember the monster that you might meet at the front door on a rainy day in late March. If you walk into the house and see me stretched out in a sunny spot on the floor, it is your lucky day.
All I care about in that moment is the warmth spreading through my body, down, down, down to the bone.

"Honey, I totaled the car!"
"That's nice."

"Hey, I got fired today!"
"That's nice."

"Babe, gotta pack, there's a tsunami headed our way!"
"That's nice."

It is March 13. It is 72 degrees outside and I have a new book! And? 

You got it! That's nice!

Imagination vs Imagination

Wednesday matinees at the dollar theater, one of my favorite events next to Christmas and possibly, the 4th of July.

Yesterday didn't disappoint. We saw Saving Mr. Banks. Almost 24 hours later and my eyes are still swollen from crying, yet, I loved it.

If you haven't seen it, I will not give it away, but it is a wonderful story about two magnificent imaginations in conflict with each other.

One imagination is wide open and over the top; the letters in imagination free-floating through space, needing every bit of one's resourcefulness to keep the letters, i   m    a   g i    n   a   t i o    n   in order (dare I venture there may have been bits of fairy dust floating amongst the letters).  The other wound up so tight that the pressure could have forcefully extruded one of the letters from the word "imagination" and popped someone's eye out! Right out, quicker and more efficiently than Ralphie's official Red Ryder, carbine action, two hundred shot range model air rifle!

If you have been reading this blog for any length of time or know me personally, then you know that my favorite thing in the whole world is imagination. My favorite hobby is imagining. Imagination is not my favorite word, only because it is not as fun to say as Phosphatidylcholine, but it is my second favorite word because of the possibilities it invites.

At one point in the movie, Mr. Disney is sitting on a settee, sipping tea with a bit of scotch in it and says, "....Maybe not in life, but in imagination. Because that's what we storytellers do. We restore order with imagination. We instill hope again and again and again."

You can't know how those simple lines touched my heart and my soul. I have been digging deep into the libraries of my mind, every dusty little corner, but I cannot find the words to describe how those words, placed in that order have made my spirit soar.

To be granted the gift of storytelling is an incredible blessing. To see the sparkle in the eyes of the listener (or imagine it in the eyes of the reader) when they realize that riding the moon and sliding down rainbows is a possibility. That climbing under the bridge and befriending the dragon is not only achievable but expected. When one's stories open the world up to the potentiality of flying with eagles and swimming with mermaids then it empowers the reader to know that anything they can imagine, they can accomplish.

All of the greatest accomplishments in our world started with imagination and a story of how it might be.  Imagination and stories will continue to inspire greater accomplishments "again and again and again."

Are You Talking About Me?

 I wrote last week about conversations I would like to participate in and where my imagination believed those conversations should occur...you know, setting the mood, making the most of all our senses to heighten the experience!

Not wanting to brag, but I have one hell of an imagination! Years of intense practice! Yet, I never imagined the conversation that really did come to pass last week.

It occurred in a Starbucks, scent of brewing coffee filling the room, rain pounding the pavement outside. People coming and going in all manner of dress. Conversation is mostly business, covering a service project we have been working on for about a year.  We've worked together on other projects over the last couple of years.

I have beau coup respect for the speaker; intelligent, successful, spiritual...the list goes on. During the conversation he says, "Toni, you are brilliant!"

That felt good! I said, "thank you for saying that..."

"No," he interrupts, "you really are brilliant! You are intuitive, you are talented and you know how to connect-the-dots! You are brilliant!"

Damn, that felt good!

Destination Or Journey?

Photo Courtesy of http://www.duskyswondersite.com

Lead singer of Aerosmith, Stephen Tyler once stated "Life's a journey, not a destination!"

Life is, truly, a journey but aren't you occasionally filled with joy (or dismay) when you find yourself standing at what could be considered a temporary destination, a weigh station in life? Maybe more appropriately called a "way" station!

Study the path above. Is it possible that it could exist not only as a path but also be a destination?

Perception is so much of our life, our travels and passages.

Feel yourself standing at the spot the photographer stood.

Are you looking at the path yet to travel, wondering where the violet road leads; what could be around the next bend?  Or do you visual it as a path you have already traversed? Are you looking back at where you've come?

Is it only the road you perceive and the miles ahead, the miles behind, or do your senses fill with the beauty and mystery of each step you take.

As you walk the path, do you only observe your shoes as they take each step? Or are you present; wondering how the light and earth and unseen angels took an ordinary dirt path, changing it into a magical road of violets and lavenders? Do you open your soul to the energy of the souls who have traveled the road before you or who have yet to traverse?

Each day we have the opportunity to walk the mundane paths of our lives or travel magical paths. Each moment with it's own nuances and numinous aspects that have the capacity to stimulate all the senses. Imagine you are in the den, reading a good book or watching a TedTalk on the Ipad and discover the coffee cup next to you is empty. Do you refill it with a trip to the kitchen as a short trip of two points or do you experience the whole journey? Do you notice the family pictures on the wall, smell the rain outside, feel the carpet on your feet, touch the wall remembering choosing the color with your partner?

Whether you drive your own car, carpool or ride a bus on your daily commute, do you focus on what you know or imagine is awaiting you in your inbox at your desk, the calls you'll need to make, the notes you need to make for that conference in the afternoon or do you notice the swallows have returned or the bright blossoms of crocus peeking out of the snow?

When you are mowing your lawn on Saturday afternoon do you march back and forth. keeping those lines straight? Have you already crossed this job off the to-do list as you think about the run to the hardware store to pick up the items needed for other tasks or do you smell the newly cut grass, feel the sun caress your face?

As you are pulling and tugging at the overgrown Vinca for spring cleanup, you see Mr. Young walking out to check his mail, do you quickly wave and return back to the grind of tugging and pulling or do you notice that your neighbor is walking slower than usual, has a little shake in his hands. Maybe you could take a break and invite him over for an ice tea and a little conversation...that Vinca really isn't going anywhere but what if Mr. Young doesn't make that walk tomorrow?

Look at the picture again. Where could it be taking you or from where has it brought you? In your daily life are you a numbered dot; living for the destinations or are you the lines between the dots; enjoying the journey? If you live your life in little dots, little destinations, do you think you are getting the whole picture?

Conversations

My sister posted a picture of a bench over looking a beach this morning on Facebook. The caption on the picture read "If you could sit on this bench and chat for one hour with any person, past or present,  who would it be?"

The responses were many and interesting. I found the imagining of such an opportunity extremely delightful.

Ah, the thought of sitting above the ocean talking with anyone....I could smell the ocean, the beach, the sea grass. Then I realized that whoever was coming should bring a warm wrap, the ocean breeze was just a little chilly. Knowing my companion and I would be enshrouded in the same blanket means we would have to be sharing a close space. On the FB comment I hadn't thought the whole picture through. Now, knowing and feeling so much more about the event, I think I would chose to share that bench with my granddaughter Katie. We rarely have the opportunity to visit without lots of people and chaos around us. I could wrap my arms around her, we could sit close, we could share thoughts, possibly, even secrets.

Photo Courtesy of http://www.boston.com

That marvelous event inspired me to seek out other possibilities.  Many, many years ago I spent some really wonderful time with my niece, Naomi. She was just a little one and we had a great time telling stories, riding elevators and running down long hallways. I've spent more time with her over the years but we've always had lots of family or friends involved. She is a young woman now, so she is always, always, on the go.  I would like to spend an hour (at least) with her but not on the bench above the beach. My choice would be to grab a pizza and find an old row boat to spread out in, to chat and eat pizza. Share dreams and stories, maybe even make up some stories. She could tell me about the films and documentaries she is envisioning in her future. I would try and visualize them and see their success.

Photo Courtesy of http://www.puebla-mexico.com

Don Miguel Ruiz, a Toltec master, is  another of my desired people to converse with. Of course, for this conversation, we would need to be seated on one of the steps of the ancient pyramids in Cacaxtala-Xochitecat, Mexico. I would ask him about dreaming and Nagual wisdom. We would wear large, floppy sea grass hats and painted huaraches. My black jaguar would leave the jungle and join us on the ancient stones. After our conversation, Ruiz would invite me to be one of his apprentices. Jaguar and I would return to the jungle together, sit at the bottom of a immense tule tree. We will talk of the days when we share a single spirit and seek knowledge in the spirit world.

Photo Courtesy of http://jill-abeautifullife.blogspot.com

Sitting in a circle around a fire pit , a fire snapping and crackling the scent of burning mesquite and pine, my company of choice would be the International Council of 13 Indigenous Grandmothers.  They would talk of humanity and Mother Earth, of their lives and their cultures. I would sit and listen and learn. I would look into the eyes of these wise elder women and imagine a world filled with peace. I would envision a world where every woman's child would be honored and respected no matter what the age of that child. Whether you be a newborn or a 99 year old man, you are someone's child.

When conversing with my sister, the very best location is a deserted island in the Carribean. We will smell like Shea butter and coconut oil and not one SPF in view, our guardian angels will be filtering out the sun's UV rays. It won't actually be completely isolated for, every now and then, a kind, generous man with gentle hands and soft voice would bring us two masterful margaritas, reapply copious amounts of shea butter and coconut cream to our bodies and tell us sweet stories. Sometimes he would bring fresh slivers of pineapple, crab and prawns cooked to perfection with a small assortment of dips and melted butter. Sometimes, he would just sit with us, feeding my sister little pieces of rich chocolate and whisper to her that he will make my next drink a double so that I will sleep and they can be alone on the beach. I will sleep and dream of mermaids and dolphins.

I want to meet with Barbara Ann Brennan. For that meeting we will need a dimly lit room with at least one wall that is painted white. We will talk of aura's and energy; of physics and healing.

There is the exchange I long for with Deepak Chopra that can happen anywhere, as far as I am concerned, as long as we don't have to sit criss-cross-apple-sauce on the floor.

I'd like to talk with Amelia Earhart and Charles Lindbergh. I think that conversation should be at 40,000 feet. We would be sitting in the cockpit of an Airbus A380. Of course, they could settle amongst themselves who shall sit in the co-pilot's seat and who shall assume the Captain's seat. I would ask them about their thoughts of flying solo above the clouds, what were their thoughts, their feelings. Did they experience fear and anxiety or was it sheer joy and gratitude of being able to just soar.

  There are so many benches and seats and places I would like to share a conversation with my husband. Possibly sitting on a warm rock near a mountain stream; huddled tight in a duck blind waiting to photograph the next unsuspecting owl or hawk. Sitting on the hood of the car watching the sunset as we inspect every single little dot in the sky with our binoculars to discover if the dot is sporting a tail so that we can yell, "I see it, the Comet!" Sitting in the car on a long drive or a short drive, sipping soda's and nibbling on ChexMix (Traditional or Bold). Rebuilding the campfire after rising from our tent on a cool mountain morning, laughing at each others' bedhead style! Or maybe just spooned in bed, watching the weather report before we click the TV off for the night.We would dream of holding hands and staring out the window of the space station watching the stars and earth rise.

While there are many, many other talks I dream off and plan for, my final one for today's post is a private conversation with myself. 

I prefer my turquoise, green and white quilt in a mountain meadow. The sun twinkling between the branches of the tall pine I have chosen to shade my little private space. I have a crunchy pear, an Arizona Green Tea and possibly an Almond Joy (depends on how soon my next dr. appt is). I will have my little bag handmade by a friend from drapes from the 1930's. The soft, rich bag will be filled with my pencils, pastels, my journal and good pen. Two good books, one non-fiction and one yummy fiction. I will have my camera but it will probably still be in the car with my phone. I will lay on my back,watch the clouds build and dissipate. I'll watch the pine branches bobbing in the breeze. I will listen to the birds and study the auras of nearby flora and fauna.I may study my own aura of my hands and finger tips. I will be still and feel the heartbeat of Earth through my quilt and my blouse. I will be filled with joy and gratitude for all there is and maybe drift away to dream of other days, other conversations.

I Love Surprises

Do you like surprises? Not like the envelope holding the note from the IRS that states you are being audited or the neighbor knocking at the door to tell you your parking brake gave out and your "76 pickup truck just rolled into his 2013 Camry.

I mean surprise visits from people you love. There is a knock at the door, you answer it and yay, it's your parents. You give them big hugs and send God a big heap of gratitude that this is the first day in 12 that you are wearing clothes instead of jammies, you don't smell like Vicks and you actually combed your hair and put on some mascara! Oh, yeah, and you actually had a pot of coffee brewing and the pink package of stuff Dad likes to put in his coffee.

I mean the kind of surprise when you give your mom and dad a hug goodbye several hours later, check the mail, walk in the house and there is a knock at the door. You open it and your brother who just had open heart surgery two months ago is standing there! (By the way, that was a four hour drive by yourself and I will be calling your doctor!) We had a great visit and I just happened to have another pot of coffee brewing (decaf).

Do you like the surprise, when out of nowhere, your husband looks across the table and says, "Have I told you today, I love you?"

Do you like the kind of surprise when your son and daughter-in-law show up at the door with a gallon of the "good" ice cream and homemade hot fudge and it's still warm? And believe me when I tell you, my daughter-in-law makes the best, the very best hot fudge! Bar None!

Do you like the kind of surprise when you walk out to your car and find that all the bird poop that was on the roof and trunk has disappeared and the only other person home is your grandson but you thought he had been in his room playing xbox all morning?

What about the surprise where you are sitting in the living room trying to read but your mind keeps drifting to "what am I going to make for dinner" and all of a sudden the most delicious smell reaches you from the kitchen. Surprise, your grandson is cooking dinner! Even bigger surprise, it is damn delicious!

I like surprises. I like cards out of nowhere, hugs out of nowhere, steaks out of nowhere. I like bird poop gone to who-knows-where.

I mostly like surprises when my teeth have been brushed, my face washed and my hair combed but if none of that has happened it doesn't get in the way of my enjoyment or gratitude.

Just a warning though; I'm not real fond of surprises between midnight and 5 a.m. I say this for your protection, not mine!

Baby Steps

Tried and tried to write an up beat, positive post today.

Wrote about the blossoms on the pear tree, the birds, the sun shining and the blue sky.

Talked about green grass and fresh air.

It went a little like type, type, type.....deleeeeeeeeeeeete.
Type, type, correct, type, type......deleeeeeeeeeete!
Type, deep sigh, type, type, type.....deleeeeeeeeeeete!

But, my cough is much better....lungs not trying to escape anymore.

Head doesn't hurt as bad, I don't get the brain slamming into the skull pain because the cough has settled down.

I can actually move my eyes without stabbing pain in my temples...that's a good thing, right?

Put make-up on and used a blow dryer on my hair....first time in 2 weeks.

I suppose my attitude will follow shortly, seems its still down in the funk, keeping company with fatigue.

Tomorrow...baby steps...first...a nap....yeah....that's it....a nap!

Photo Courtesy of Napping Guide

Or, maybe, I'll crawl out to the car, drive to Dutch Bros and get myself a hot Kicker. In an hour I will be filled with faux energy and my favorite mood enhancer. True, is will be chemical induced but dang gum, I am done with this knuckle-dranging funk and Vicks just isn't doing it for me!

To Do List:
Nap
Check Makeup
Dutch Bros
Smile
Call Mom and tell her I didn't die
(she was pretty sure I was going to!)

Concrete Wall

Whoa!   Did anyone see that truck!!!

Yeah, it's an old expression but it is so accurate in this case.

It was a BIG truck, the cab was probably matte black with dirty black frosted windows.  The trailer most likely a throbbing neon green; open sides like that of your typical livestock haulers, complete with you-know-what clinging to the sides.

The open sides oozed viruses and really bad cold germs. The back of the truck probably even had a sign that read:

Breathe Deep

Enough For Everyone!

It hit me and it hit me hard.

Have you ever been so sick you were afraid you were going to die and afraid you weren't going to die? Everything hurts; muscles, throat, head, teeth and hair. 

Good news, I'd bet that my core is getting a great workout with the coughing. I can probably lift a small Buick with my abdominal muscles.  A couple more days of hacking I could not only lift the Buick but I'd be able to flip it!

Bad news, head hurts too bad to read...proof that Satan invented colds and flu as torture. Laying in bed with nothing to do but sneeze, hack and speed race to the closest bathroom and the sight of a page with typed words heads you back to that bathroom, especially since you just tried drinking that chicken soup with the tiny noodles. Is it just me or do those little pieces of pasta spell out WTF and YOU'LL BE ZORRY?

Going to hit the hot shower one more time, deep breathe the steam to clear the pipes and cook my skin. 

p.s. thank you, God, for Vicks! It doesn't do much good for the illness but it sure keeps family away! 

p.p.s. please, forgive me for whatever happens to the next person that says, "damn, you don't look so good!"