Fine, More on the Woo-Woo Crap

Okay, well, for starters, Mack cleared me off a great spot out back behind his little cabin.  I had four candles–one in each direction–and just some stuff I thought I’d need, maybe.  I spent a lot of time collecting herbs to burn to induce visions but I couldn’t get them lit, so it was just me and the white sage.

I marked off a circle with flour I’d infused with red clover, rosehips, and lavender.  Then I smudged the circle with sage and went in and sat down.

For me, the experience is like trying to tune in a distant radio station.  Sometimes, it comes in so clearly that it’s all you can hear.  Sometimes you can barely hear it above the static.  And sometimes you can’t get the radio station you normally listen to to stop bleeding through.

Last night, like I said, was both really weird and very ordinary.  I didn’t feel like I was able to get over there very easily and the things I saw when I was over there were not easy for me to put meaning to.  I saw a cow.  I saw over and over again clear paths.  And I kept seeing Nashville at dusk, as if I were standing at right about Trinity Lane, but high in the air.  Over and over I saw that, the city to the south spread out before me.  And I couldn’t get the song “High Hopes” out of my head.

The other thing I felt was that the woods was full of Klansmen.  Old, dead Klansmen, but there they were, watching from the woods, with mild interest in what I was doing and a grudging respect for the man working the land now.

I don’t know if they were literally Klansmen, obviously.  It’s hard to know how literally to take those kinds of feelings.  But I felt like they were, in general, not inclined to like the man who lived there and wouldn’t have liked him under other circumstances, but his working the land commanded their respect.

I also felt like Mack was watching me, sitting on the metal couch outside the circle, just watching.  Or someone with an energy like his.

I left amber as an offering to my folks.  I meant to toss it into the creek, but I forgot, so it’s just in the yard.  I left nine pennies on the doorframe as an offering to the folks associated with Mack.

I think I told y’all how I’ve been trying to remember to drop pennies when I feel like my luck has been especially good, as a way of acknowledging and spreading my good fortune?

I wanted to do that for that place.

I have to say that the table in the kitchen of the cabin is so unbelievable.  I can’t even begin to express to you how good it feels to sit at that table.  I want to get some chicks together–Newscoma, Lynnster, Coble, Rachel, the Playwright, the Recovering Baptist, NM, Ivy, etc.,– anyone who wants to make the trip and I want to set them at that table, with food and beverages and just see what happens.

It is the kind of table made for women to sit around and eat and laugh and talk.  It’s incredible.  I should have asked Mack where it came from.

I will ask him tomorrow.

That’s a table that must have a hell of a story.

Sitting Out Outside

It’s hard to imagine a more perfect space to sit out than in the back yard of Mack’s little cabin.  He and his family stayed up on top of the mountain and left me to my own devices down in the holler.

I was next to a creek and the moon and the stars peeked through the bare trees.

It’s hard for me to talk about all this woo-woo stuff without feeling silly and self-conscious, so I won’t except to say that it was both incredibly ordinary and mysteriously amazing.

I would do it outside all the time, if I could.

Make Me a Promise, Beloved Readers

If Mack kills me, I will make every effort to haunt him for the rest of his natural life and then I will follow him around the afterlife glaring at him.

But let’s assume that there is no afterlife or that I’m busy making sweet love to Alfred the Great or Ethlred the Unready or whoever; dear reader, I beseach you–please haunt his ass.

Every time he posts anything on his blog, you just comment, “How nice, Aunt B. killer.” or “Wow, look, even people who kill Aunt B. can make reasonable points.  Interesting.”

Really, I see no other way to ensure my safety when I’m with him.  Yesterday, he strapped me to a machine as large and angry as a wild boar and set me off uncontrollably down a giant mountain filled with pot holes, jagged bear traps, and broken glass shards while he laughed maniacly and sped around me in ever tightening circles, threatening, at any second, to ram into me and send me in a giant, crying, frightened blob of terror into the raging river that runs through his estate where I would drown until I was dead.

And then, once we got to the bottom of the almost sheer cliff, he heckled and mocked me until I was forced to drive the four-wheeler back up the mountain where he then let his kids laugh at me.

I honestly cannot believe people do that for fun.  Well, I get that making fun of me can be good fun.  But riding four-wheelers around?

Nope.

I don’t understand it.

It was so scary I think I screamed the whole time and kept shutting my eyes, which, really, is a terrible, terrible idea when you’re the one driving a giant piece of machinery around some dude’s lawn.

I was on the four-wheeler for probably five minutes and yet, I think I aged twenty five years.

On the other hand, Mack fed me tamales, which I had never had before, which were awesome and yummy and I liked them.  Though, it was difficult to eat them as I was still shaking with fear and crying.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

I will probably never post for you my Friday Random Ten again, because doing so requires ambition and the ability to carry out a plan week after week and I think we all know I don’t have that.

But for one Saturday I can give you my Friday random top ten:

1.  “Radio Friendly Unit Shifter”–Nirvana (Hey!  This is my absolute favorite Nirvana song!)

2.  “Eyes on the Prize”–Bruce Springsteen

3.  “We Shall Overcome”–Bruce Springsteen (I thought this thing was supposed to be random.  Is my iPod trying to encourage me to join the Sit-in Movement?)

4.  “Grim Reaper Blues”–Entrance

5.  “Perfect World”–Liz Phair

6.  “What Makes You Happy”–Liz Phair (I’m doubting the randomness of my randomizer.)

7.  “St. Theresa”–Joan Osborne

8.  “No Headstone on my Grave”–Esther Phillips (If you don’t like this song, I’m not sure we can be friends.)

9.  “Old Dan Tucker”–Bruce, again.  Much like Mrs. Wigglebottom, my iPod seems to have an inexplicable crush on Bruce.

10.  “Crazy in Love”–Beyonce!

I wonder if I have a cat picture to put up…

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Let’s Talk Frank About Kleinheider

Are conservatives in this state insane, is Carter damn near omnipotent, or is Fred Thompson the Right’s Tinkerbell?

Ha, in all fairness to you, dear readers, the thesis statement of this post is so awesome that there is no way that the rest of it can be anywhere near as good.  I just feel like I should say that upfront.  But let’s go forward anyway, shall we?

We need to turn our attention to this post over at Terry Frank’s place, written by one Wes Kliner in order to answer our thesis question, to this portion of his post in specific:

Throughout the state of Tennessee, conservatives and Republicans are excited about the momentum building in the “Run Fred Run” campaign. Yet standing in the face of this overwhelming tsunami of support, both in Tennessee and across the United States, there is the strident voice of one who unswervingly prognosticates that Fred will not run. Who? — Adam C. Kleinheider [emphasis mine]

Seems that Adam suspects the group he now panders to at WKRN will not keep him in “boxed wine and peanut butter” if he jumps on the “Draft Fred Thompson” bandwagon. Talk about your ultimate philosophical sellout.

Adam … in your commentary above you say “Then I bagged the elephant.” No, unfortunately, it seems that the “elephant” WKRN bagged you. Pre- Mike Sechrist you were ACK. Post-Mike you have become Adam. For the almighty dollar, you have now sold out your conservative ethos to pander to a more diverse group than those who “brung ya to the dance.”

Fred needs to run. And Adam, you need to come clean.

America, let us close our eyes together and savor this.  Because, really, this could not be any funnier.  Read this again:

Yet standing in the face of this overwhelming tsunami of support, both in Tennessee and across the United States, there is the strident voice of one who unswervingly prognosticates that Fred will not run. Who? — Adam C. Kleinheider

In what bizarro world is this a problem?

Kleinheider’s making a guess.  He could be wrong.  He could be right.  He’s just guessing that Thompson won’t run.

And yet, Kliner is so intimidated by Kleinheider’s mad guessing skills that he takes up a whole long post at Frank’s denouncing Kleinheider.

Why?

Is it possible that Kleinheider is so powerful that he alone can keep Thompson from running just by sheer force of will?  Have the Republicans in the state of Tennessee gone commie on us so that if just one conservative is not in accord with everyone else, they cannot act, lacking, as they do, group consensus?

Or is Fred Thompson Tinkerbell, where everyone has to clap as hard as they can and really believe in him or he can’t come back from the political dead?

The whole thing is very strange.

But, if you see Carter walking around with a little extra swagger in his step this weekend, I don’t think it’s just that he’s got to make room for the cell phone, it’s got to also be that he’s been promoted to most powerful conservative in the nation.

The Butcher Makes a Prediction

So, Mack is hell… no, not quite hell… heck bent on transforming me from a charming, and yet surly recluse, to a charming and yet surly person who does shit.  And so tomorrow he’s going to take me out 4-wheeling.

I told the Butcher this.  He said, “You’ll end up crying.”

“Do you think so?”

“Is it you?  Are you trying something new?  Yeah, there will be some tears by the end of the day.”

I would love to refute him with actually facts that prove otherwise, but nothing springs to mind.

And, for some reason, I just drooled all over myself.  Bleh.  I hope this “four wheeling” doesn’t require that I have basic control over my motor functions, because I don’t appear to be that skilled.

How German is She?

I don’t think I’ve ever written a post about Muslim immigration into Europe and its implications.  I haven’t written on it because I don’t live in Europe; I don’t get the nuances of the dynamics; and so I don’t know what I’m talking about.

But I saw this story over at Uncle’s, about a woman who was denied a quick divorce from her husband who beat her and threatened to kill her because the judge in Germany ruled that the Koran says wife-beating is okay, so the wife shouldn’t expect any better.  And I saw Uncle’s comment on it– “Multicultural sensitivity at its most perverted. If it keeps up, society there will reach the point that it so culturally sensitive that it cannot survive.” –and realized some feminist analysis, coupled with some useful multicultural analysis, might actually be useful in this case.

Is this multiculturalism run amuck or is this one judge’s bigotry and xenophobia writ large?

I’ve read through the NYTimes article and a couple of things really stand out.  One is that the wife, who needs the divorce, because her husband is a nut-job abuser, is not easily identifiable as a Muslim; she doesn’t wear a head scarf and the other is that the judge said that she thought the woman’s “western lifestyle” might be a reason her husband might feel compelled to beat her.

This got me thinking about the nature of xenophobia in general.  If you think about it, the xenophobe has two problems–one is that there’s a group of outsiders who are not like “us” who are coming into the country and refusing to assimilate and ruining things, but the other is that the outsiders, who are not like “us,” might find ways to pass, to become so much like “us” that the line between “us” and “them” becomes fuzzy and hard to distinguish.

If you’re of the belief that that “other” group is an enormous problem that must be dealt with by removing the “other” people from your society, the folks who can and do assimilate are a much bigger problem than the folks who don’t, because those folks are much harder to identify.  So, even as xenophobes give lip-service to how much the “out” group refuses to do like we do, make no mistake that the xenophobic nightmare is that the “out” group would find a way to do so.

How else to understand what’s going on in this case?

Here you have a Muslim woman who has done just what we “Westerners” ask of Muslim women.  She’s Westernized.  And yet, the judge, a Western woman, turns around and says, “It is precicely because of your desire to be like me that your husband is justified in beating you, because, in your culture, it’s okay to beat uppity women.”

You see that?  How the judge refuses to grant that the woman wanting the divorce has a claim on German culture?

See, I think that Uncle views this case as evidence of the blurring of cultures, that the German courts are now going to start giving Koranic verses the same weight as secular law.  But I don’t think this is a case of blurring of cultures at all.  I think this is a clear-cut case of an ethnically German non-Muslim woman drawing a clear line between how “real” German women can expect to be treated and what kinds of behaviors “other” women in Germany, no matter how seemingly “German,” have to tolerate.

Random Things–More Questions

1.  If I put a song on my iPod, can I get it from my iPod onto my computer?  How?

2.  All the cool kids do Friday Random Top Tens.  How do I get my iPod to spit me out ten random songs?

3.  I’m feeling better, but not great.  I just realized that I’m going to have to take my cell phone out with my on Saturday in case I need to call Mack to come and rescue me.  On a scale of one to ten, how pathetic is that?

4.  Has anyone heard from the Bloggers on the Hill folks?  I’m still planning on showing up on Monday.

5.  Are a huge perverse love-hate man-crush on Roger Abramson and a squealing delight with Lee enough to declare today boy-crush day?  I have to tell you that when Abramson does his Kaus impression it about sends me.

6.  When will I be able to breathe again?

I’m Not a Doctor, but Take My Advice

So, I was in Magical Journey picking up supplies for the trip on Saturday (though I ended up having much better luck at Wild Oats, as usual) and I was looking at the incense and listening to a conversation.

A woman asks, “Do you know anything about herbs?”

The girl behind the counter says, “Not really.”

The woman says, “Well, I’m trying to decide what I should take for my lupus.”

And the girl wisely says, “Well, what kind of medication does your doctor have you on?”

And the woman says, “Oh, I hate taking medicine.  I’m not taking any.  I’d much rather take herbs.  What do you think I should take?”

The girl behind the counter, “I don’t know.  But you should be careful.”

Now, America, it’s your body; do what you want.  But listen to the girl behind the counter!  Don’t ask a stranger untrained in medicine or herbal remedies for that matter her advice on what you should take to subdue your lupus.  She doesn’t know better than your doctor.

And “natural” herbs can be just as dangerous or more so than medicine.

Good-ness, people.

It’d be like if I wandered up to someone and said, “I see you work at a Dairy Queen.  Will sticking bleu cheese up my nose harm me?”

Okay, maybe not quite just like that.  But you get what I’m saying.

I Did Not Know That

I had no idea that Aspen Groves could look like a forest but actually be all one big organism.  How cool is that?

I would dig being a clonal colony.

Hey, B., what if you go in to work today and I’ll sit on the couch and eat ice cream?

Sure, B., and can you, B., take the dog to the park?

Of course.  Shall I take all 107 acres of Mrs. Wigglebottoms to the park or just the ones that look like they could use a good romp?

How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity?

Today Terry Frank is encouraging us all to suck in the good advice of the Wall Street Journal.

This year’s fad “investments” — teachers pay raises, expanded Medicaid, free health care for children, all-day kindergarten, more generous aid to the universities — are fiscal grenades likely to detonate in the next recession, leaving a mountain of debt that will have to be paid off by taxpayers and future governors down the road.

This made me laugh so hard I about choked.  Oh, yes, heaven forfend we spend money on keeping our own citizens healthy and educated.  No!  Not that!  What a terrible investment in the future of our state to invest in the health and education of the future of our state!

Listen, conservatives, I love you.  You know I do.  And I do take to heart your admonishments that not every problem can be fixed by throwing money at it.

But some of you seem fixated on this notion that it is unfair that you or your children should have to learn things that challenge your cherished beliefs.  And this group of you seems to think that it’s best that everyone in the state just wallow in ignorance rather than risk anyone being exposed to ideas that might be “dangerous” in some way.

From the outside, it seems as if this group believes that growing up should be the process of having the ideas and beliefs of your parents reinforced repeatedly as the right way.

I have to admit, as a person who loves learning, I find this baffling.  An education–either formal or self-induced–is the key to the whole world.  And a teacher who can help instill in you a love of learning?  A curiosity about the world?  How is that not invaluable?

I’ll cop right now to the fact that liberals can be insufferable elitists.  Good god, if ever there were a bunch of folks strolling about the universe going on about how, if only you had our wisdom, knowledge, and insight, you couldn’t help but see how right we are, it’s us.

And it is annoying, but, in our defense, at least it is–hypothetically–possible for anyone to join the liberal elite.  Just read up a bunch and become a smartypants and expound the right political views and get you some money and voila! you are an insufferable liberal, too!

Conservatives also have a strong elitist bent.  It’s just not as obvious.  And the way to be among the elite is protected not by a vast amount of wisdom one must appear to have a command of, but by the folksy rhetoric that masks it.

I mean, please, look here.  A dude who writes for the Wall Street Journal is talking about investing in education as if it’s a fad.

Do you think that Mr.  Stephen Moore actually believes that education is not important?  Of course not.  You don’t get to write for the Wall Street Journal if you went to a series of shitty schools who couldn’t provide you with basic reading and writing skills (conservative think-tank the Manhattan Institute for Policy Research reported that our graduation rate in 2002 was 57%; over half of us are basically illiterate; etc.).  You have to know how to use language.  You have to be able to move gracefully in the kinds of circles that WSJ folks find themselves in.

And if conservatives like Frank are willing to buy this bullshit that investing in education is a “fad”?  All the better for Moore.  It insures him job security.

Wisdom is one of my favorite folks in the Bible.  She runs around yelling

How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity?

and the scorners delight in their scorning,
and fools hate knowledge?
Turn you at my reproof:

behold, I will pour out my spirit unto you,
I will make known my words unto you.

Because I have called, and ye refused;

I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded;

but ye have set at nought all my counsel,

and would none of my reproof:

I also will laugh at your calamity;

I will mock when your fear cometh;

when your fear cometh as desolation,

and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind;
when distress and anguish cometh upon you.

Then shall they call upon me,

but I will not answer;
they shall seek me early,
but they shall not find me:

for that they hated knowledge,

and did not choose the fear of the LORD:

they would none of my counsel:

they despised all my reproof.

Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way,

and be filled with their own devices.

For the turning away of the simple shall slay them,

and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them.

Shoot.  I have a crush on that woman, too.  I guess it’s girl crush day here at Tiny Cat Pants.  Anyway, take heed of what Wisdom says, folks.

Take heed!

Tee hee.  I should have been an Old Testament prophet.  I would have kicked so much ass.

My Huge Crush

Today I have a huge crush on Karri Cormican and Hannah Bridgeman-Oxley, who I learned about from over at Planned Obsolescence.  These two observed a man trying to drug his date and saved her!  And helped put him in jail!  There ought to be some kind of cheer we can do for them…

Two! Four! Six! Eight!

You saved a chick from date rape!

Three! Five! Seven! Nine!

Now the jerk is doing time!

You kick ass!

Ha, I’m kind of digging the feminist cheers.  I don’t guess you could get together a bunch of feminists to be cheerleaders though.  Maybe if we called it a supportive demonstration…

Giving Props Where Props are Due

I don’t often have nice things to say about Kleinheider here at Tiny Cat Pants, but today he is getting nothing but love from me for the following posts:

They’re Voting Sexy Back, Stacey Campfield Don’t Know How To Act

and

A Sexy Deferred

I laughed so hard trying to explain that to the Butcher over dinner. Excellent post topic and great post titles.  I’d offer smooches, but we all know how weird Carter gets when I try to heap the love on him.  So, I will just stand over here and give him a respectful wave.

Holy Sh[oo]t!!!

Y’all.  I am dying of delight.  I’m eating my Frosty Fix & Mix with M&Ms.  I’m wondering if I’ve ever used that many ampersands in a sentence in my life and I am about falling out of my chair.

As you may recall, Plimco made me enter a contest and so I whooped up a little play and that part was easy.  The tough part, which required a lot of whining and flouncing about and Sarcastro telling me to grow the fuck up, was revising it.  But I did.  And I submitted the revised version and I waited and waited and waited.

Today I learned that they’re going to perform my play as part of their summer festival of yumminess.

My play.

With real actors who will really act!

And get this!  When I called my dad to tell him, he said that it was neat and that he was proud and he didn’t say one thing mean to undercut it (Perhaps when Kat slipped into bizarro world, she took my dad with her?).

It’s just the kind of day when you want to lean back in your chair with a big ole grin on your face and say to yourself under your breath “What the fuck?  No, really, what the fuck?”

A Tiny Shiny Bubble

I don’t think you can see it in this picture, but there’s a tiny, shiny bubble in the middle of all that redness.  The whole thing itches and burns.

I last had this rash when I had poison ivy.  My body was just so haywire that I had a rash in response to my rash.  That was really bad.  It covered almost all of both hands.

This is just in that one spot on the one hand.  Hopefully, it won’t spread.

But, in general, I am feeling better…

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Numbers, Numbers

Kathy T. has a thoughtful post about abortion today.  I disagree with her (of course) but I’m not really interested so much in that as in looking at how complicated these discussions are.

Kathy T. is talking about how she maybe supports laws that would require women to look at ultrasounds of their fetuses because she’s done some research and

While I don’t believe all abortions should be banned because no law is absolute, I am deeply troubled by the sheer number of abortions performed each year. According to this Real Choices site, the number is a staggering 1.2 million in the U.S. Medscape Todayof WebMD stated in 1999 that between 1.3 and 1.5 million are performed each year. (See? I tried to cite some sources.)

Now, Kathy T. has done the right thing.  She did some research.  She found some numbers that, to her, to any of us, seem credible.  But the feds keep track of this stuff, so we know that, in the year 1999, for instance–theyear that MedScape Today gave her the 1.3 to 1.5 million abortions number–there were 861,789 abortions reported from 48 areas.  Even assuming that the other reporting areas were rife with abortions, we’re still talking right around a million, if that many.

Not that a million isn’t a lot.

But it’s less than 1.3 million and it’s far less than 1.5 million.  And the number of abortions in the U.S. has steadily declined since 1990.

The other thing Kathy T. says which I think is important to address is this:

I don’t think there would be enough of them, though, to care for 1.2-1.5 million unwanted babies each year, but I don’t think all abortions will stop as a result of viewing an ultrasound. But maybe enough would so that some of these people can become the amazing parents that I know they will be.

There’s two things here.  One is this idea that you either choose to have an abortion or you choose to be a parent, that those are mutually exclusive decisions.  And yet, (and maybe Rachel will look into this) I find no evidence that, over all, women who have abortions have fewer children than women who don’t.

The other thing is that pregnancy is dangerous and painful and it doesn’t always work out how we want it to.  Any woman who would choose to have a child is to be commended and any woman who would choose to have a child and then place it up for adoption has amazing strength of character.

The government should not be able to compel you to be a hero.

At a very basic level, you must be free to do with your body what you’d like, if you are to be a full citizen.  Any kind of legislation that infringes on a woman’s right to decide what we’ll do with our own bodies–when we are not criminals–means we’re not free.

And third, babies are not magic.  Yes, some women you’d think would make shitty moms get that baby plopped down in their arms and they pull it together.

But most don’t.

Babies cannot magically transform shitty women into good mothers.  Forcing shitty women to have babies…

Very little good can come of that.

My point is that it’s hard to have meaningful discussions about abortion because it’s complicated.  Can we trust the numbers?  Is being born always better than not being born?  If a woman has to be forced to have a baby, why do we assume she’ll be a fine mother?  Does compulsory childbirth infringe on a woman’s freedom?  If so, what does that mean for our ability to be citizens?  If abortion is murder, will we start executing women who have them?  And so on.

Everyone on both sides, even me, would like for this to be an easy discussion.  It’s not.

NCIS & Class of 3000

–The Butcher and I have a little contest every week to see who can guess the end of NCIS first.  This week, I won, before the show was even half over.  Woo hoo!

–Is it wrong to watch Class of 3000 in part to see if either Exador or the recalcitrant brother makes a cameo appearance?  I know they’re not drawn but think about it just for a second–wouldn’t they make awesome cartoon characters?

Argh, Toby Keith

Where the heck is Toby Keith’s chest hair?!  Look, here is evidence that he used to have some.  And yet, in his new video with the maintainance man who seems to be in love with a Jenny McCarthy-looking stripper, he appears to be totally bald-chested.

I don’t know why this bugs me but it totally seals the deal on my Toby Keith hate*.

*Which, I’ll be honest, is the kind of hate that ends up either in smooches or fisticuffs.

The Lesson I Have Learned from the Cats

It is important to wake up so that one can go to the bathroom, eat a little something, and get back to the business of napping.  I have to say that I’m feeling tremendously better than I was before my nap, which is disconcerting, because I still feel bad and so I guess I’d been misjudging exactly how awful I felt in the first place.

In other news of a disconcerting sort, there’s only caffeine-free Diet Dr Pepper in the fridge.  I swear, every time I hear some “Christian” numbnuts go on about how he cannot help but hate gay people because the Bible is making him,  I think, if you’re going to spend so much time harping on an “abomination,” why not task yourself with the abomination of caffeine-free Diet Dr Pepper?

Clearly, some things threaten the fabric of our culture more than others and I see nothing more obviously fabric-threatening than Diet Dr Pepper with no caffeine.

God damn!  Where is the Butcher when I need him to rectify shit like this?  Oh, yes, he thinks I’m at work.

My Own Bed

I keep meaning to say that I missed my bed and find that, when I climb in it at night, I let out one well-pleased grunt.

I’m going to try to go to work today.  I slept twelve hours Sunday night and nine and a half hours last night and I still feel kind of crappy, but a lot better.  I really feel like if I could just get my fever to break, I’d feel almost human again.

I had this dream last night or the night before that Mack and John H were worried that I’d be too sick to properly prepare to sit out and so they built me a small circular wall out of stones and also a turret.  I don’t know why they thought I would need a turret, but it was nice.

I am worried that I’ll still be sick.  I know it’s only Tuesday and so I’m trying not to be despondant yet, but I had kind of set myself a marker by the whole thing, like I’ll just do this thing on Saturday and use it as a point on which to pivot.

So, I’m trying to strike a balance between willing myself to be better (I’m going to at least try to go into the office today) and not push things too hard.