I will not be held responsible for what's contained in this post. Obviously, I'm on enough cold medicine to make life super interesting.
I don't know about anyone else but I've seen bloggers all over the blogosphere being taken down by colds. I have not managed to escape being one of them. All fall, and now winter, I have been in a prolonged and protracted battle against little evil cold beasties that have tried to make my body their permanent residence. It doesn't seem to matter what I throw at them. Chinese herbs, homeopathic pellets, and over-the-counter tried and true solutions have all FAILED. Epic FAIL cold medicine companies! Do you hear me?! EPIC. FAIL.
It's like the beasties mutate and adapt to work around whatever it is I'm throwing at them. Just when I think I'm on the mend and feeling good enough to rejoin life, they decide it's time to remind me just who's really in charge here.
We can track terrorists, fly planes at three times the speed of sound, and use tiny phones to call, text or email each other all around the world. But, we can't develop something that will conquer the common cold? Seriously?
My sickened state gives me plenty of time to mentally ruminate over all kinds of unnecessary things. I've seen new blogs and articles that I never knew existed. How many of you guys are parents? It is EMBARRASSING how unaware I was of the parenting blogosphere. I hadn't realized how many parents were out there talking about their kids. Most of it good stuff as well. The majority of parents doing it seemed to focus on children between the ages of 2 and 3. When someone finally mentioned the nightmare their 9 year old can be, parents everywhere were exalting the discovery that they aren't alone in having pre-pubescent monsters for children. Is it really that taboo out there to talk about what jerk wads our kids can be? Or is it just that we're normally too embarrassed by the time our kids reach that age, to be those parents? Those parents who still haven't gotten our acts together enough as parents to have conquered this role we're in? Horror stories, happy stories, touching stories, I've got them all when it comes to parenting. If you ever want to hear one, just let me know. I've got no problem sharing.
And in addition to all these parenting sites, I've found all kinds of sites about blogging. Because, duh - I love blogging. I love coming on here and talking with people. And there's this debate going on in the blogosphere about long vs. short posts. What's good and what's not. Staying true to who you are, doing what you love, being sincere, entertain your audience, pictures or no pictures - the list of info just went on and on to the point that my brain melted and oozed out my ears. Here's my conclusion:
OMG people! Nobody knows what the hell they're really doing out there. Do it if you love it and do it in a way that you enjoy. Otherwise, just don't do it. Life is too damned short to do it any other way. At least, that's what's working for me.
And once I reached the end of the internet on all topics blogging I suddenly remembered I HAVEN'T COMPLETED MY CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. ~Begin total freak out.~ No one I know, wants "things". What do I do at this point people?! None of those lists bloggers put together for Christmas shopping helps a person if no one wants things. If you have ideas - save me, pleeeaassee. While you're at it, could you please do some grocery shopping for me? Whatever grocery shopping list I put together right now, is bound to be unusable. I mean, my brain is mush. If it's not the disease killing brain cells it's bound to be the cold medicine. And can I just tell you about the last dream that cold medicine gave me?
I was in the doctors office trying to get help with this danged cold. The white sanitary paper sang its little crinkle song as I tried to get comfortable.
Doctor: "Ah, yes. I see the problem. She has a scabie in her eyebrow." (Of course it has to be scabies or lice. I'm terrified of both.)
I can't control my involuntary reflex hand motion to knock this invisible attacker off my face. I succeed and it immediately grows from mite sized to something larger.
Doctor: "Oh. Not a scabie, a louse maybe?"
Frantic thoughts about one louse meaning there has to be an infestation of lice begin. And as we watch this louse scrabble around the table it grows some more.
Doctor: "Oh! Rachel, you should recognize this. It's really rare in most places but is commonly found in Florida. You signed a contract for tons of money to protect your house from them."
Me: "A formosa termite? Why was a formosa termite on me?!"
And the formosa termite grows some more. It's head, thorax and other body segments turn into giant jewels. Now, a bejeweled formosa termite is running all over the doctors examination table. The jewel like structure is practically impossible to crush. An indestructible bejeweled zombie termite that disguises it's self as a brooch to get people to attach it to themselves so it can spread and take over the world. Someone get me a shotgun. The world is doomed.
If that doesn't make you wake up in a cold sweat, there's something wrong with you. Now, can someone pass me the candy? I'm going to go curl up in a corner and pour sugar down my throat. I'm giving up on the cold medicine.