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periodic misery
August 25, 2010
Monday night was...rough.
Up several times to deal with the cramping, the hemorrhaging, the vasovagal syncope, and other...let's call it "unpleasantness". The new pattern seems to be shaping up as horrible period, light period, no period, repeat.
We are currently in the "horrible period" stage of it. And last night was better, but I had at least three separate dreams that shared a theme--I was being forced to get up too early.
And as a result, even though I slept until my alarm went off, I felt exactly as though I HAD been forced to get up too early.
And I am so tired I want to drop.
Speaking of tired, I asked Spouse yesterday to please do me a favor the next time he's on the phone with my aunt--drop a hint that I have limited energy reserves, due to the the Hashi's. She's already making plans for my visit that I'm not going to be able to live up to. Between her and my cousin, they've figured out about 17 places to eat, visit, shop (or dog knows what) so far.
I'm only going to be there a week.
Well, at least we are enjoying a couple of gorgeous days, sunny, low humidity, temps in the high seventies. It feels more like May than August.
Just started reading a new series. In the first book, the following things are happening:
A family is facing a financial crisis. Due to a flood of cheap goods into the marketplace, the father's employer is shutting down because they can't compete. The family has been struggling to pay ongoing health care bills for the mother. They may lose their house and their modest savings. They are concerned that they will be unable to continue their daughter's education. They make a frantic attempt to "network", writing to all their personal and professional contacts in the quest for another job, but with little to show for it.
Sure sounds like a familiar set of themes these days, doesn't it?
This is actually one of my hobby books: "Nan Sherwood At Pine Camp, or, The Old Lumberman's Secret", by Annie Roe Carr. The copyright is circa 1915.
A little perspective, I guess. We aren�t the first generation to face this kind of thing. Or even the second. But somehow, we continue forward.
Of course, since this is early twentieth-century tween fiction, they just got a letter from Scotland telling them the mother has inherited $50,000.00. But even that is tempered with an eerily contemporary realism�this is what the father has to say about it:
"In the first place," continued Mr. Sherwood quietly and gravely, "there may be some mistake in the identification of your mother, child, as the niece mentioned in this old man's will."
"Again, there may be stronger opposition to her claim than this lawyer at present sees. Fifty thousand dollars is a whole lot of money, and other people by the name of Blake will be tempted by it."
"And, above all," pursued Mr. Sherwood, "this may be merely a scheme by unprincipled people to filch small sums of money from gullible people. The 'foreign legacy swindle' is worked in many different ways. There may be calls for money, by this man who names himself Andrew Blake, for preliminary work on the case. We haven't much; but if he is baiting for hundreds of Blakes in America he may secure, in the aggregate, a very tidy sum indeed."
�Let us not swallow this bait, hook, line and sinker. You see, he sends no copy of the will in question, or that codicil relating to your mother's legacy; nor does he offer identification or surety as to his own standing. Don't let the possibilities of this wonderful thing carry you off your feet, my dear."
I mean---WOW. How modern all that sounds, for a 95-year-old YA book. Then you read a passage like this, and are once again reminded what times you're reading about:
"Here's your Cousin Nan, Tom," said his father, without making rejoinder
to the young man's observation. "She must go into Phil's and get warm
and have a cup of hot coffee. I'll take some in a new-fangled bottle I
bought down in Chicago, so we can all have a hot drink on the way home."
"'Twon't keep warm twenty miles," said Tom.
"Yes 'twill. It'll keep HOT for twenty miles and more. They call it a
thermos bottle. It'll keep coffee hot, or cold, for a day, just as you
please."
"Jehosaphat, Dad! What kind of a swindle's that? How does the bottle
know whether you want your drink hot or cold? Huh! Those city folks
couldn't make me believe any such thing," objected the son.
Snerk. Anyway. I'm liking this first book a lot. But since this is a Stratemeyer Syndicate series, there's a good possibility that it's all downhill from here.
Reading: Hobby--Finishing "Patty Blossom"(1917) by Carolyn Wells. In which Patty falls prey to some early proto-hippie influences, and discovers the generation gap. And gets engaged. This is the last of the Pattys I have, and I'm kind of glad--she's really starting to wear on me. The "I'm such a fluffy blonde sillyhead" routine is leaving me nauseated.
Next up: The Nan Sherwood series, by Annie Roe Carr (Don't know if this Carr was a real person, or a Stratemeyer Syndicate pseudonym.)
General--"Mrs. de Winter", by Susan Hill.
Surfing: .
Listening: INXS, Ingrid Johansen, Poi Dog Pondering, The Kinks, Elvis Costello.
At Random:
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