You know how on the Internet they’ll have a once-a-year event where everyone who “lurks” on someone’s blog without ever commenting is invited to “de-lurk” and announce their presence to the blogger and to the world?

Well I’m pretty sure that 2007-2008 has been The Season Of Delurking in my body, where every physical issue that was tired of being ignored or avoided decided to show up and demand that I finally deal with it.

So, just ask me how much fun that’s been (Answer: Not so much). But I have really felt lately that I was starting to see the light at the end of The Illness Tunnel. Until I had the following conversation with my friend, Lynne.

Me: And I don’t know why, but lately I’ve been having these “episodes” where I just get really hot all of a sudden, and start to sweat.

Lynne: Hm, I didn’t know that you were in perimenopause.

The earth comes to a screeching halt.

Me: Say what now?

Lynne: What you’re describing? Those are hot flashes. You’re having hot flashes.

Me: Nuh-UH! Shut UP! And also, la-la-la-la-la, I can’t HEAR you!

But once the seed was planted, I could no longer remain blissfully ignorant of what was happening to me. Especially later that evening when my husband and I were both seated in our living room watching television. I noticed that, not only was he covered in a blanket, but he had covered every single bit of exposed skin up to his eyes, which unfortunately he needed in order to view the TV. Meanwhile I was seated next to him, engaged in the same amount of physical activity (none whatsoever), dripping with sweat, and my clothes were damp.

Hm, I thought. As much as I do not want to admit it, Lynne might be onto something here with that whole “hot flash” thing.

So I decided to do a little research.

Me (trying to be casual): Hey, can I ask you a question?

My husband: Okay.

Me: How do you feel right now? Like, what is your body temperature?

My husband (with the fervent emotion of someone finally releasing a torrent of pent-up emotion): I’m SO COLD! This house is FREEZING! Haven’t you noticed that I’ve had to start blanketing my face because it’s so cold in here?!

Me (absolutely dumbfounded): What are you talking about?! It’s SO HOT! Look, I’m sweating and my clothes are damp. Here, FEEL MY PANTS!

“Hm,” said my husband, with the look of someone who has just realized that crossing a woman in the throes of a full-blown hot flash is a lot like poking a big black bear with an electric cattle prod, and turned up the speed on the ceiling fan a couple of notches

So I went to the gynecologist, fully prepared to hear that the stress of my year-long illness had thrown my body into premature menopause, only to be told that, “it’s not hormonal.”

(It’s also not my thyroid, because I’ve had that checked. Twice.)

So I still have no idea what’s going on with me. Best guess is that it’s just my body continuing to recover and realign itself. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure I could get a job as the sun in a brand new solar system, if I run out of things to do around the house.

That is, if I don’t go super nova first.

“The woman who takes the time to grow herself in the darkness becomes familiar-perhaps for the first time-with the real source and containment of her psychic strength. No longer is her strength dissipated in obeying an idealized father figure, in pleasing a lover, in trying to satisfy a perpetually unsatisfied mother figure, in accommodating to a patriarchal organization or culture, in appeasing the inner witch who tells her she is worthless. No longer is her strength lost to obeying compulsions, drives, and obsessions that can slip in during the dark night of the soul and substitute for the real thing.

And what is the real thing, the thing for which she longs? The love affair with her own spirit, the inner marriage that commits her to her destiny, the rituals of soul that feed her deepest hunger, and the sense of being pregnant with her Self, her creative essence.”

Jill Mellick, Coming Home To Myself

I just saw this over at my friend, Melanie’s, blog, and so now I’m totally copying her so that I have at least one thing to post this week.

“As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I have had together. It doesn’t matter if you know me a little or a lot, are an in-person or an online friend, just write anything you remember!

Nothing like reminiscing……right?

Next (if you choose to), re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you.

It’s actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I’ll assume you’re playing the game and I’ll come to your blog and leave one about you. “

God is always within you, and you are never separated from that energy that you are calling God. But you can get fixated on something that does not allow that energy to be felt by you. You are the only one who can disallow that energy that you are calling God in your life, and you are the only one who can find a vibration that allows it. There are so many people in this world today, specifically in this nation today, that are using the rhetoric of being in alignment with God who are no where near the vibrational vicinity of the energy of source. And in their despair they are acting out in ways of trying to level the playing field, or trying to regain their power. Religion has almost become completely fear based… when God is the opposite of fear based. God is the anti of fear, God is the presence of well being, and there is only a source of well being.

Abraham-Hicks
Boulder, CO (6-11-05)

In a few months I will turn 36, and I have realized that it is time for me to make some important decisions in my life.

Namely, I have decided to change my political affiliation to Any Party That Does Not Hold Primary Elections In The Middle Of The Summer. Because if I have to answer the phone and listen to one more awkward and uncomfortable pre-recorded message asking me for my vote, on top of the Unidentified Yet Extremely Painful Ear Inflammation, as well as the fact that someone (I’m looking at you, Pip!) barfed all over my left Birkenstock last night, then I really don’t think I can be held accountable for my actions.

So please, Gwinnett County Republican Party members, STOP! FUCKING! CALLING! ME!

Because apparently you haven’t yet gotten the memo on this, but I don’t actually base my voting decisions on A Candidate’s Ability To Annoy The Shit Out Of Me Before They’ve Even Been Elected To Office.

But you can rest assured that if I did, you would all be winners.

The Good News: The doctor thinks my ear pain is due to allergies, and does not think I have the shingles in my ear. So, yay-no Valtrex for me!

The Bad News: Now I know that it is possible for a person to contract the shingles Inside. Their. Ear.

Number of days I’ve lived in this house
and driven up and down the driveway:

3,666

Number of days we’ve owned three cars:

3,021

Number of days I’ve successfully backed
out of the driveway without
smashing into the third car:

3,020

Having a very understanding husband
who told me not to worry, and that it
would be okay:

Priceless.

These days when I’m not on Facebook, I’m over on Ravelry.com, “a knit and crochet community”, seeing as how knitting is my new obsession dearest love.

The other day as I was perusing the message boards I came upon a thread asking the intriguing question, “Has anyone knit the Clapotis?”

Naturally every time I saw this, the only thing I could think was, “That sounds like an extremely painful STD.”

Which was fine to think, but then an important gateway guarding the flow of action between my brain and my fingers broke down, and I actually wrote that on the message board.

(Important Side Note: For which I totally blame the Prednisone. Or actually, the fact that I’m slowly getting off of it. And my system is punishing me for taking away its PRE-SSSHHHUUUSSS!!, because without it I am Cranky McBitchyPants, but as soon as I take my ever-decreasing dose I am In Love With The Entire World. Well, except for the part that projectile-vomits all over the hallway and then wants to sit in my lap. That part’s a little hard to take no matter what I’m on.)

And let me tell you something. Apparently, The Clapotis? Is no laughing matter. Because except for explaining exactly what a Clapotis is (”a wide scarf/small shawl knitted on the bias with columns of dropped stitches that make waves on the purl side of the fabric”, in case you were wondering), no one has written anything else on this thread. And not only that-I’ve managed to shut down communication on the entire board.

Apparently I need to be a little more careful the next time I Use My Powers.

Not sure why this memory reappeared all of a sudden, but I’m glad it did, because now I have a funny to offer you for this weekend.

Ten years ago I taught Spanish at a local community college.

One morning I was collecting homework, and I got to a student who didn’t have his to turn into me. I expressed my displeasure with this state of affairs and he replied,

“Well, if I’d known I was gonna get arrested last night, I would’ve kept my Spanish stuff with me so that I had it when I got out of jail this morning.”