So it hasn't been exactly the most festive holiday season chez Laurie...yet...with the exception of my odd embracing of all holiday music that in recent years I've totally denied, except for my yearly foray into holiday tunes in July. There's this thing at work called an evaluation that's been really weird and stressful, and some family stress (love that, don't you? Love. It.), I'm freaked out about this weight issue, I'm having occasional flashes of "Oh God, I'll be 36 in a matter of weeks", and now, it appears that I've slept for 24 hours out of the last 48. There's this nerve that lives in the depths of my back, underneath my left shoulder blade. I'll call it The Nerve of Deadly Pain. It lies dormant for about 355 days each year, but that leaves ten days during which it is awakened from its evil sleep, and it rages during those ten days - usually ten days that are preceded by a period of extreme stress, enough to inform the body that it SUCKS enough for it to start acting out in like manner - like a fucking banshee.
The past two days have been part of that ten. This is what I get, of course, for trying to be all diligent with the exercise, and for actually running/walking like I said I would, and also lifting weights. When I'm sedentary, I may be fat, but that's a dull, painless condition at this point, until I try to, you know, stand up, and then breathing can get a little difficult. But it doesn't HURT. It just FEELS WEIRD.
I have a pretty high threshold for pain. When I get headaches, I retreat to the happy world of Aleve (a product that works so well for those whom it works for that I have no problem hawking it here. Advil - pshaw. No impact whatsoever.) and it's done in short order. But this is some weird, terrible thing that makes turning my head a chore, and actually made it nearly impossible for me to get up this morning. I therefore did not, because I couldn't, and there's nothing that makes you feel like you've really kicked your weekend's ass with productivity like staying in bed for twelve hours at a pop. Nice. Yesterday, I slept almost as long, but when I got up, I had the brilliant idea to go run because it might "work it out". I made myself get up because sleeping too much is also an old, depressive activity of mine, and I really don't need to go down any of those familiar roads again. However, I'm here to tell all of you, running does not work this kind of thing out. What it does is make your nerve of death laugh a shrill cackle like the Wicked Witch of the West, and say things to itself like "Stupid, stupid girl. We'll show her!" And show me it did. By ten last night I knew I'd really made a mistake, and today I'm propped up in a weird position to type, because I have to do something or I'll go bonkers, plus I'm behind on a few pieces I need to finish and that's a nice little stressor as well.
Adding to the joy is the fact that our computer crashed on Friday. It was doing things I'd never seen before, all by itself, and I really thought it was a goner. And since I'm the only one in the house who has any technological skill whatsoever, I've spent the hours when I could actually sit up frantically trying to recover it. This involved one ill-advised trip to Best Buy (following a mega-dose of Aleve) and a half hour on the phone with a very nice man somewhere in another hemisphere (number of times I had to spell "Olney" - eighteen, and I'm not lying), who sold me an anti-virus package that resulted in a blue, DOS-like screen appearing in my browser that I've never seen before, along with a stern warning to remove the software lest the Earth implode. Somewhere in that process the Spyware Doctor removed like 500 questionable pieces of crap from the machine, and it appears to have righted itself for the time being, long enough for me to back up whatever files (hello, photographs!) I care to keep in my life, and for that I am grateful.
And now I'm getting to the really grateful part. Thanks for hanging in there.
In the midst of all this recent annoyance and minor drama, Marit (and Pete, of course) sent me cookies in the mail. These are the best damned cookies I've had since my grandfather died, I kid you not. She sent me mint chocolate chip cookies and buckeye cookies, and whereas I liked the buckeyes, the mint chocolate chip, Oh my God. There wasn't time to take a picture. But I do have a picture of the tin she sent them in, which was awesome of her.
It was just great of her to do this, and it really made my day on Friday, in the midst of the dead computer and the hysteria about my lost photos that weren't lost after all, and extreme worry about a few things that were admittedly quite worrisome, and a general sense of wanting to go all Darius Rucker and sit down on my couch and cry. And it got me to thinking that this year, regardless of the stuff that's been challenging, and there's been a lot of that, I've been really lucky to make some great new friends, near and far, and that's really saved my ass in so many ways. So for the rest of the month, because the year is almost over, I guess, I'm going to try to talk to you about some of that, because I think it's probably the best thing to focus on at this point.
Thanks for reading.
Today someone called me a whirling dervish and I laughed. Today I accidentally got a really good score on a math test. (Random, yes...but it will eventually make sense.) Today someone sent me a Christmas card and said nice things to me, and it was reassuring to think that this person was somewhere thinking nice things about me, because I so frequently think nice things about her, too. Today I spoke my mind about something that I thought I probably shouldn't have, and I really thought about it before I did it, but after I did it someone I really respect and care about called me and thanked me for sticking up for her when I totally didn't expect it. So you see, although I frequently take a lot of shit for being a truth-teller and a mouthy you-know-what, there's usually, 99.9 percent of the time, a very good reason. And, a raison d'etre also. 
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