boy, it's been a long week.

I've been trying to blog since Friday. That's tough work when

a. you're stoned on medicine and
b. you can't see straight and
c. you feel like hurling whenever the lights hit your eyes just right.

not that I have any of those difficulties, I'm just saying.

My heart continues to break for Huggy, now in Salem, Mass., shivering already. There's not a thing to do but hold onto that part of him that was always good, however lost it may seem at this time. He's so broken. Recent photos of him reveal that stark sadness, the resounding emptiness within him. I Fed Exed two boxes of clothes and food and various sundries yesterday. Thank you to the friend who took those photos for me. Thank you to her for spending time with him for someone she's never actually met. Thank you for helping him get the meds he needed, and a decent breakfast, and for listening to his stories, however tall (or small) they may be.

Friday, we left the truck at the trusted shop for a clutch replacement and emissions test. $900 later I was screaming at the guys I usually, honestly, adore, for they are just good old boys who've never, ever done me wrong.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR A CLUTCH???"

Turns out, they did a few other things while under the hood. "But you really needed them done, zippy!!!"

So I had them show me EXACTLY what they replaced and why. Of course, they were right: I did need those things done. Simple things, all small, but any one of them could have stranded me along the side of the road.

Sigh.

We took my engagement ring in for repair on Saturday. A couple of months ago I noticed I'd somehow bent one of the prongs of the setting, so I immediately put it away until we could get back to the jeweler from whom we purchased it. I couldn't imagine what I possibly could have done to do such damage -- the prong was definitely bent up and the diamond balancing precariously.

WELL

Not one, not two, but THREE of their respected diamond professionals inspected it and said "Whew! Good thing you didn't crack it! It's such a GORGEOUS diamond - GORGEOUS! Nearly perfect! Excellent selection! Thank God you didn't crack it!"

After lunch, mr. zippy and I returned home to a phone call from one of said professionals.

"Mrs. Zippy, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your diamond is actually cracked after all. That corner of it just crumbled once the gemologist got it out of the setting."

AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Mrs. Zippy? Mrs. Zip--"

"I'm here," said me picking myself up off the floor.

"The good news is, we're going to replace it with an equal diamond at no expense to you. I just needed to know if you wanted to stay with the same cut? Mrs. Zippy? Mrs. Zip--"

"YOU'RE SHITTING ME????"

"Um, no ma'am, that's a no shitter."

I couldn't tell if one of the three professionals who signed off on the gem as being good were going to lose their job. That's an expensive mistake.

"Well, THANKS!"

"You're welcome."

Sunday was brand new FARSCAPE!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

Monday was more brand new FARSCAPE!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Tuesday was spent in hospital, again, tending to this lingering illness that my doc now says with a patpatpat to my long curls "Just be patient."

Is that redundant? After ten weeks?

Somewhere between Sunday and Tuesday I touched base with the other brother to tell him about Huggy's new wherabouts and well-being. He's so closed off from it. He's so afraid of having his heart broken again by Huggy that he's hardened himself to it, lest he actually have to give himself emotionally again to his only brother.

Pour me another scotch, tarbender, please.

farscape_pkw_300x250.jpg

conversation in zippy's world...


him: did you take your meds?

me: yeah.

him: so you can breathe ok and won't be coughing all night?

me: yeah.

him: ok.

me: did you take your back medication?

him: yeah.

me: ok.

him: how's your neck?

me: ok.

him: ok?

me: ok.

him: good. let's make out.

this just in from Huggy...

huggy: "What do you get when you cross 100 civil servants with 100 lesbians?"

me: . . .

huggy: "200 people who don't do dick."

For anyone following my eight weeks of illness, I spent my Columbus Day afternoon at the VA emergency room getting seen by a CUUUUUUUUTE pulmonary doc who thinks I have an acute case of bronchitis -- NOT. My lungs are perfectly clear, says he, there's no reason I should be this short of breath, as a non-smoking, relatively fit 39 yr old female w/ long red hair who looks just like Sigourney Weaver (and a woman named Carmen who worked a later shift OR ELSE they'd have proved it to me). He says I've had enough antibiotics to cure an elephant and seriously doubted I was actually infected with anything.

So I came home w/ an inhaler, a nasal inhaler, an allergy medicine that I have a greater strength of in the 24 hr over the counter equivalent, and an order to await my pulmonary testing appointment to come in the mail before he tells me I have allergies and nothing else. Or it could be some sort of reflux disease, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, was clearly intelligent, handsome and DAMN I couldn't get his phone number for my single friends to use with abandon.

The inhaler works surprisingly well. I've never used one before, but it does help clear up my chest (you know, that part of me which x-rays prove is CLEAR). The nasal inhaler HURT to use. Not the inhaler itself, but the drug. Wasn't expecting that. I've used this type of inhaler before, but this time if felt like someone set a match aflame in my sinus passage. OW. The allergy med - Claritan - works but not on my congestion. My ears are still clogged. So, the otc version of it works as it has the added decongestant.

Having spent my afernoon undressing in front of strangers, I was decidedly bored undressing in front of mr. zippy last night. Oh, the silver lining of illness.

Today I am listening to Miles Davis' "Images of Spain." It is raining out. A contrast between my moisture-laden body and the arid velocity of the greatest trumpeteer ever.

O.M.G. This brings back memories unexpected! (thanks again, Larry!)



Mock the Vote


Vote 2004

this was so good, I just had to cut and paste (thanks Larry!):

Come and listen to my story 'bout a boy named Bush.
His IQ was zero, and his head was up his tush.
He drank like a fish while he was drivin' all about.
But that didn't matter 'cuz his daddy bailed him out.

DUI, that is. Criminal record. Cover-up.

Well, the first thing you know, little Georgie goes to Yale.
He can't spell his name but they never let him fail.
He spends all his time hangin' out with student folk.
And that's when he learns how to snort a line of coke.

Blow, that is. White gold. Nose candy.

The next thing you know there's a war in Vietnam.
Kin folks say, "George, stay at home with Mom."
Let the common people get maimed and scarred.
We'll buy you a spot in the Texas Air Guard.

Cushy, that is. Country clubs. Nose candy.

Twenty years later George gets a little bored.
He trades in the booze, says that Jesus is his Lord.
He said, "Now the White House is the place I wanna be."
So he called his daddy's friends and they called the GOP.

Gun owners, that is. Falwell. Jesse Helms.

Come November 7, the election ran late.
Kin folks said "Jeb, give the boy your state!
"Don't let those colored folks get into the polls."
So they put up barricades so they couldn't punch their holes.

Chads, that is. Duval County. Miami-Dade.

Before the votes were counted, five Supremes stepped in.
Told all the voters "Hey, we want George to win."
"Stop counting votes!" was their solemn invocation.
And that's how George finally got his coronation.

Rigged, that is. Illegitimate. No moral authority.

Y'all go vote now. Ya hear?