Thank you for all your comments, you guys rock. It’s a nice boost. I appreciate it.
Life in Stinkville has been interesting lately, for lack of a better word. Fall has officially shown its colourful head and brought along rain. I will say this: I will welcome this type of weather any time over the other lady and her white coat. I’ve been reading “The Chronicles of Narnia” (C.S. Lewis) and can’t help to think that maybe we are under a spell from the White Witch… that would explain a few things… hmmm.
Last week I felt as if I would die. At some point I even thought I might be having a heart attack or something. I don’t remember feeling so bad before. I poisoned myself with some meat. Food poisoning is bad. I’d never really thought it before, but since I can’t help and pause before eating anything. It does have a good side; it’s a great motivation to start a diet. I’m sure I already lost some weight. We had steak. I thought it tasted bad. It tasted like mothballs to me (not that I even ate a moth ball, but if I did I’m sure it would have tasted just like that!). Hubby tasted it and didn’t really think so. He found that maybe the taste was off a little, but it might be due to the spices he had rubbed on it. We swapped plates, and I ate his. By the time we were doing the dishes, Hubby had the runs. I felt bloated (and looked it). My stomach wasn’t right so I went to bed early. I did manage to fall asleep despite the cramps and gases, but woke up to violently throw up. I thought it was a bad indigestion. Monday, things were bad. I was hurting all over; every joint, my head, and my stomach, it was bad. I spent the day in bed and slept most of it. Tuesday the pain alleviated a little, but I still felt like I had partied way too hard. It’s now one week later, and still, my stomach doesn’t feel too sturdy. To add to it all, I went in to the dentist’s office and had the work done for a crown. Talk about contributing to my “soft” diet.
This afternoon I had a pleasant surprise visit from friends. These people, who drove eight hours to come to town, were really good friends of my parents. Since my father’s passing my mother hasn’t really kept in touch with them. I have. I think he’s the sweetest man you want to meet, always ready to help and so gentle. The last time I’d seen them was back in 1992. I had driven to Chibougamau, my native town, to attend a friend’s funeral and had spent the night at their place. Every year, since then, we’ve been exchanging emails and Christmas cards. He’s been diagnosed with prostate cancer in August, underwent surgery and supposedly they did manage to get everything in time. I sure hope so for him. It’s strange to think these people were my parents’ friends, they are my parents’ ages as well, and yet, while they were visiting I was really happy to see them and the age difference didn’t matter at all. They were people I care about and was truly happy to get to spend some time with them.
I guess it’s true that saying: “Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some people become friends and stay awhile...leaving beautiful footprints on our hearts... and we are never quite the same because we have made a good friend!”