Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen

bits and pieces

I had to laugh as I was reading some of the posts on my friendslist this weekend, because people were saying that there were no more Easter baskets in their houses since their youngest kids had turned 12/15/16/18/21/etc. My mom seems to have the policy that the Easter Bunny leaves something for all the kids who are coming to her house for Easter dinner, and as she is the one who subcontracts for the Easter Bunny locally, she gets to decide who is a kid, of the people coming to dinner. So I was the youngest human recipient of an Easter basket, at 28, and there is no particular end in sight. Even though I didn't make it down for dinner last night, or tonight. They brought the basket up, and I tried not to breathe on my grandfather, who has gotten more susceptible to bronchial woes lately.

You know what? When they say a cough is productive, they don't mean it finishes revisions or writes new chapters for you or even goes and sorts the laundry. Stupid faux-productive cough.

I have been rereading and napping and rereading some more. The vivid dreams, oof. Some people are just not meant to be made into anime characters. (Some people right around here.) Also, my subconscious seems to have rather drastic notions of symbolism at the moment. We are not quite to the China Mieville sea of pus level, but still...rather colorful. Yes.

The nurse poodle has been very attentive. She is convinced that I should lie still and not do foolish monkey things. I am, however, allowed to eat broth, since I spoon some over her food. Broth is all right. Far better than chamomile tea, which she sniffs at dubiously and should not care to have spooned over her food, thank you all the same, monkeys. The nurse poodle isn't always right, but she's always keenly interested.
Tags: family, holiday cheer and thumping, poodular supervision

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