You wanna know the truth?

I just haven't felt like it.

That's why I've been so quiet here lately... I just haven't felt like it. I'm a little bit in my shell these past few weeks: a bit of bad news here, an added responsibility there; a lame attempt to clean up some of the clutter in my room (and life); projects to finish and discoveries to make; a book that's scaring the shit out of me (and making me consider what I'm putting into my body and what I'm expecting out of it); doctors' offices to fight with (or ignore); mosquitoes to swat away, plagues to prevent; a little bit of time for reflection on the crappy year that's been, and the time that's yet to come; just stuff. Life and stuff.

And so, my brain says things like "You should blog this. Or at least write it down so you'll have something to blog when you get around to it," and another part of my brain goes "Nah." It's pretty obvious which part has been winning.

Also? It kind of got to the point where I just felt like I was complaining about the same things over and over again, sharing the same pictures over and over again, telling you ... nothing, really. And I don't want to blog like that.

So, I'm going to try to work it out. Whether that means I post more, or less, or whatever... I'm not sure yet. But we'll figure it out. I hope you stick around.

I'd miss you if you left.

There is a man - youngish, skinny, average height - who has started coming to church across the street. For three weeks now, I've managed to look up from something and see him climb out of a cab and up the stairs into the church. I think it is the cab pulling to a stop in front of our house, where there is no parking, that makes me look up. But each time I've seen him, I'm surprised: First because he is young, and the first day was a Saturday, in time for the 4:15 mass. At our church, the Saturday 4:15 mass used to be known as the old people's mass: There was the 9:00 Sunday AM Children's Mass, and the Saturday 4:15 PM Old People's Mass. (I don't mean that's what the church called it, just that's what we called it. We also called it the Cheater's Mass, because kids who skipped mass on Sunday would claim that they'd gone to the 4:15 the day before, knowing that it most likely wouldn't be disproved.)

So the fact that he can't be over 35 - and more likely is younger than me - made me remember him, and the fact that he's all dressed up: a neatly pressed suit, clickety shoes, hair obviously just combed down, makes me wonder.

I may be curious about inconsequential things, but I wonder a lot about this guy. He's just so out of place, and he keeps coming back, and my brain would rather ruminate on him than try to figure out where we're going to live in a few months or how I'm going to handle 3 appointments this week. So I've got a ton of questions about the poor kid: Why does he go to the Old People's Mass? What's up with the spiffy suit? The cab? Does he find what he's looking for at mass - is it peace or forgiveness or belonging that drive him to our church every week? Is he new in the area and doesn't have a car or does he come from further afield, and doesn't want to drive? Is he wearing the suit for Mass, or is he going somewhere post-Mass that requires such attire? And where could that be?

Like I said... Curiouser, and curiouser.

Dear Boston -

What the hell are 'nettles' and why the hell am I just now learning I'm allergic to them?


Sincerely, Red-Eyed, Runny Nosed
NTE

PS: Internets, to find out what's making your eyes water, you can go to Pollen.com for a personalized allergen map.

I've been off ...

a bit this week. Who knows why? Brother and SisterN are on vacation, so the children's aren't here on Tuesday's and Thursdays, and my schedule is off, I suppose.

I've been worrying about a few tests the doc wants me to have, and obsessing about the fact that the schedule lady WILL NOT CALL ME BACK WITH THE APPOINTMENTS already! Seriously: I had the appt two weeks ago, when he told me to have one particular test, then I called Monday and Wednesday last week to talk to Zach, and then, after he finally got the message and called me back Wednesday night, I called on Friday, and again this Monday to have her make the appointment and call me back.

How do you not make a pest of yourself at such times? I fear calling over and over again, because I have nothing other to say than "Hi: It's NTE again, calling about the lumbar puncture?" At which point she quickly says "Right, I'll call you right back with that appointment." And then DOES NOT. I don't want to be a bitch, but, um... Hello? You're supposed to be doing this: it's your job. I'm never rude to you (although you have been to me in the past), and all I'm asking is that you make the appointment, and then tell me when it is... I'd do it myself, if I had the info-freakin-mation, but I do NOT, so please just help me out. (and get me this appointment before I chicken out .. I really don't want to have it, so let's get it over with already.)

This is one of those times that I wish I was a better health care consumer - I may have been dealing with chronic illness for about half my life at this point, but I still suck at being as assertive as I would like to/should be. It's a fine line, though, when you're dealing with doctors offices: I'm going to these people to have them stick a big needle in my back to collect fluid around my spine... I realize that it won't be the office person who'd do it, but ... still, you don't want to make enemies in doctor's offices. It's so weird how you can fear pissing these people off, because they're the ones who stand between you and the care you need. But since I hate talking on the phone in the first place, making this same phone call over and over and getting no help is making me nuts.

So there's that... but mostly, I'm just dragging. Draaaaaaaaaaggggging. And so, I've been trying to rest, read, and recharge a bit. Which, is kinda an oxymoron when it comes to people with CFIDS, but what cha gonna do?