The Revenge of Eve Arden

GOOD MORNING SISTER CRONES & HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

I woke this morning to a great chill in the air and I'm loving it!
Fall being my favorite time of the year and Halloween my favorite holiday puts me in a great mood!
(menopause or no menopause!)

We are having a cookout here at the Crones nest today.
Now, you know when family comes to visit, you always try to 'clean house' just a bit. I usually keep a pretty decent house, but with the recent illness and the lack of enthusiasm to do much of anything, my house needed some work!
Ok, not as much as I make it sound, but the dust was an inch thick very visible and the carpets were gathering leaves and dog hair faster then a speeding train.
With fall, comes leaves on the ground and since one of my dogs fur insists on pretending to be velcro..well, you see the problem here. Besides all that he's a very large dog (Great Pyrenees) so when he comes in, he brings a small tree with him. Hence..yesterday I dusted and vacuumed.
(more the once I might add)

But enough of the mundane world.

Let's talk of cronehood again today shall we?

Remember I told you that the menopausal symptoms come in cycles?  Right.

There is one thing in all this meno hell that does NOT run in cycles. Incontinence.
NO no no.
The bladder is weak all the time, matters not.
Sister crones, if you get sick and start coughing, trust me when I tell you, go put on a diaper. You'll need it. I don't care how many times you go to the bathroom and try to empty your bladder..you cough and you will pee yourself!

(ask me how I know this!)

You can be sitting on the toilet, having just peed, go to wipe your ass ..cough and pee all over your hand if you're not careful. HOW does this happen? Where in the world does this come from?
I don't get it..really I don't. HOW does hormonal imbalance makes you loose bladder control? HUH?

That's as bad as the brain functions being attached to hormone levels..makes NO sense!

The formation of words will totally evade you. You WILL sound like an idiot and before it's over you will be known as 'that batty women who can't remember her name!"
You might as well dye your hair and change your name to Eve Arden!

(cuz you won't remember that name either!)

Verbal sentence structure is out the window Sisters..it really is. You're dementor will look at you in the strangest of ways trying to figure out what you're trying to say. You will fumble, mumble, cuss and make generalizations as you stammer trying to remember a word.  Then dementor will fill in the blank and you'll nod and say 'yeah..that word'...and he will simply shake his head, mumble something incoherent under his breath and move on totally ignoring you from hence forth.

Welcome to world of idiocy.

There is a reason most grandchildren come along about the beginning of cronehood time,  because a babbling baby and grandma speak the same language!
For the next few years as the child is learning to speak, talking in one word sentences and doing a lot of pointing at things to get their point across..well gee...you'll get along just fine! You'll soon realize that your grandchild is the only one who understands you!
(cuz many times..all you can do is point too!)

You will have good days and bad days with this menohell symptom. There will be days where you would just rather sit in the corner and thumb your lips pretending to be a babbling idiot then to try and communicate with someone. Matter of fact, there will be days that you'll have no choice but to do this. The brain simply refuses to function in any normal way.

It's time to turn the tables.....read on.


How many times in years past, have you spoke to your dementor and not gotten a reply? You've repeated it and still not gotten a reply. You walk into the room and they are glued to the tv (some sports show) and you actually have to touch them before they realize you've been speaking to them.

Have you done this??


Well, it's payback time Sister Crones...oh yes! Stand up and learn how to get even!
Use the cruel tricks mother nature is playing to the best of your advantage!

Here's what I do when my brain is literally in hell on vacation. It is not a cure by any means as there is no cure..but..
I'll wash and dry a bunch of clothes and bring them all to the living room. Then I'll pick a movie from the shelf, start it up and sit my fat southern ass down and commence to folding and watching.

If dementor someone speaks to me, I'll pretend I don't hear them. No matter how many times the dementor speaks to me, I won't hear him (on purpose). He'll have to come to me like the many times I've had to go to him and get right in his face. The tide has turned.

If I don't have any laundry, I'll start a new book and get so involved in it, I'm zoned on the pages before me.

I mean, men do this all the time, why can't we right? What does this accomplish? You will have to speak less to anyone if you do this. Most times your tormentor dementor will just go on about business without the business of speaking to you in the process. Hence..you don't have to sound like an idiot.

Just be prepared, dementor will think you're loosing your hearing at this point (and sometimes we do) and this may be an ok thing!
(At least you won't have to 'hear' him!)
But..sometimes having your dementor THINK you can't hear him, can be enlightening too!

Take advantage of your brain dead days sisters..oh yes, use them correctly and life has meaning. It's called REVENGE!


The Crone of Brainless Revenging Bliss

Sage

Southern Fried Chicken Soup

One week.
That's how long it's been since I've been dragging myself about in this bog of eternal sickness. Okay, okay..I'm almost over the worst part I must admit, but the evil cough will last me months, this I know.

I've learned a few things in the past week though. I can't put them into a nice little list like I prefer to do, but they are welded into my brain all the same.
One of those things is, the Dementor didn't really seem to care.

Here is the pinnacle of his compassion and concern:
On two of my sick days (TWO! WOW) he actually did dishes and laundry.
The rest of the days, they were left for me to tend to, whenever I felt better. Oh the love oozes doesn't it?

(mind you, out of 7 days there were 4 days that I was pretty much 'couch stuck'...fever 103..body aches, etc. I wasn't moving anywhere!)

Dementor did not cook for himself. (or me either for that matter) When he realized I was sick, he brought home a 12 pack of fried chicken (with fixin's as they say) to last several days.
(OH joy! Chicken soup ...southern fried style!)

One day, he called me on his way home to see what medicine I preferred from the store.

(I think there was a method to this madness..anything to get me back on my feet and 'housekeeping again.)
I think that's it. Those were the highlights of his concern and compassion..fried chicken and Theraflu.
What a man!

I slept on the couch for a week. Why did I do this? Because I didn't want my coughing to wake him up. Did he at any time come over to 'check' on me? See if I was still alive?, had a detrimental fever?, offer to fix  my medicine?
I know you are kidding right? PFFFT!! No hellin way!

( I was an ignored lump on the couch, he didn't even talk to me if he didn't have to! I might as well have been a large pillow!)

Trust me, I don't like being 'coddled' anyway. I prefer to be left alone. BUT..left alone and ignored are two different things.
Ask me how I'm feeling and check on me once in a while? Fine..that I can deal with.
Fix me a plate of food (chicken soup and the like) and bring it to me? Yeah, sure that's an ok thing.
Prepare the medicine and bring it to the sickroom? Great!
Coddle and fuss..no way..get out!
All the same, I'm on the road to mending.

One more thing to mention here..concerning Cronehood and incontinence. COUGHING is NOT YOUR FRIEND!! ..........mmmk?

Now, to the day before yesterday..which was..Tuesday. Yep, Tuesday.
On Tuesday I was feeling chipper and guilty enough to do some housework. Dementor had left the computer area a mess with paper work strewn all over the place. Stuff that I had no clue what he wanted to do with. So I stacked it up in a nice pile so that I could ask him about it when he came home.
He had come in from work sullen as normal and very little was spoken between us.
In the short and brief bits of conversation we had, I mentioned wanting to go to Harbor Freight the next time he went, they had an air brush there I'd like to look at. I also asked him if our air compressor would dial down to 15psi's.
Of course, I got a few questions ...what do you want an airbrush for and the like, but he shrugged and flopped in his chair.
I went to the computer area and started going through the neat little pile again and said "Babe..what is all this stuff..it's all over the place"
I made the mistake of handing him one piece of paper and saying "Do you need this or is it trash"
He took it, looked at it and tossed it on the table next to his chair. With an attitude I might add.
(BLINK BLINK)
I was standing right beside him waiting for him to simply say "trash" and hand it back to me. Did he ?? NOOOOO!
Here is where I made my mistake.
"Well, don't put it there" I said as I leaned down to pick it up .."I take it it's trash then?" (no reply...I looked at him) What's the matter with you?"
"I'M TIRED!" he growl yelled. I mean, he yelled it in a gruff 'fuck you' voice.
(BLINK BLINK)
A look of shock, disdain and anger ran across my face..and I opened my mouth to start in then, decided against it, shut it and walked away. I have decided he is not worth my arguing time..he really isn't.

I said nothing. I took the paper, put it in the trash and spoke not again to him the rest of the night. Not one single word.

All this happened within the first 30 minutes of him being home from work.
(I did not cook that night either. He scrounged for himself)

Here's the sad part. I could tell he knew there was no call for what he did. I could tell he knew I was pissed. BUT..hell would have frozen over before he said "I'm sorry"...he warmed up some leftovers, grumped in the chair for about an hour and went to bed.

(I was glad to see him go)

(FAST FORWARD ONE DAY)
Here we are Wednesday and he's walking through the door from work. In his hands he has a complete 'air brush kit'..with it's own mini compressor.
Is this a form of apology? Hell yeah it is. Do I appreciate it? I don't know.
I tried to feel 'excited' ..and I kinda was, because I wanted the air brush for sure, I just didn't want him to get it for me.
I feigned appreciation, kissed him on the cheek .."thanks!..this is cool!..oh I can't wait to get started!"... sat it on my work table and ignored it for 2 hours.
Finally I went to it, opened the box, realized this one was already used and must have been returned to the store. He told me to put it back and he'd return it, but that was the only one they seemed to have on the shelf.
So..sadly, I still don't have the air brush,  he's going to see if they have another.

The point of that little scenario?
I didn't realize that I had married a man who thought 'buying' me something would smooth my ruffled feathers. And it didn't. It just surprises me that he's turned into one of those.

Of course, nothing really should surprise me anymore. This is the same man who doesn't listen to a thing I tell him ..the same man who for the first 2 years we were married brought me roses for our anniversary. Red ones. I've told him many times over "I don't like roses, especially red ones."
However, I have tact..I accepted them graciously, thanked him, said they were beautiful and went on my merry way.
Did that stop him from buying 3 rose bushes and planting them out front? nooooooooooooooo


The Crone of Airguns and Roses


Sage

Cotton Lungs and Compassion

I could feel it last night. Someone was stuffing cotton into my lungs. It hurt. In the darkness of the cool night the cough began. I couldn't sleep. It was going to be a long night.

Yep, that's what's happened. Something has finally caught me. Some sort of vile evil infection.
What may be worse about this whole scenario is the 'compassion' of the Dementor.
There is none.

My Tale:
It was evident early in the evening that I was coming down with something. Truly it felt like someone was pushing cotton balls into my lungs. I knew..without a doubt, I knew.
"oh shit..my time has finally come round" ..I have not had any type of 'major' sickness in many moons. I roll that way you know. Yeah, I'm fat, yeah I smoke, yea I eat what I want, but all in all, I'm decently healthy or at least have a high level of antibodies against this type of thing.

Why else would I have not caught anything in years? Last night, the vile thing caught me.

I could not sleep. It hurt too bad and I'd cough every once in a while. Croopy cough. A deep down 'oh shit cough' . Out of the bed I came and stumbled back to the couch. Shit warmed over? Yeah, that was me.
So I lay there watching this show and that show, covered in a blanket.
(our temps were in the 40's last night and I STILL had all the windows open..love me some cold air...sick or not!)
Ha! I can relay that this was one time I was appreciative of the hot flashing power surges.
Figured I'd sweat it out. (no such luck).

Come 3am the Dementor's alarm started blaring. I had not been to sleep yet. 
He strolls out 1/2 hour later, dressed and ready for work. Does he ask me how I am? Oh hell no. Does he even bother to check to see if I'm alive or dead? Oh hell no. He goes to make him some breakfast.
(I guess his stomach was more important).
While he's munching on his peanut butter toast, he saunters into the living room where I lay ..the great 'him' speaks.
"you should have taken NyQuil"
He doesn't check on me, he doesn't lean down to see if I have a fever, he doesn't ask "how are you?" he just berates because I did not do what 'he' does and load myself up with drugs.
He continues his berating .."When you are as old as we are, you should know better, you should have taken something" 
<blink blink>
My reply: Well thanks for the compassion
He comes back with .."Oh hell no, no compassion, you should have known better"
My reply: I'll remember that when you are hurting again..there will be no compassion from me.
His reply: You don't give me compassion anyway. 
And off he goes to work.
(sigh)
I do give him compassion. To a degree. But I have to tell you, when someone complains EVERY DAY..and I do mean EVERY day...compassion starts to wear thin. Try 3 years of it. I refuse to coddle and act like a mother to my husband..treating him like he's two is just not my bag!
Either way, I guess the 'good days' are over as I could tell by his tone this morning that it was the beginning  of a Dementor hell cycle.  I think I got about 5-7 days worth of 'decency' from him this time.

(Maybe this time, since I'm sick I can just sleep through the cycle. Ya think?)

The Crone of Creeping Crude

Sage

It's Wonka time!

And I don't mean chocolate.
In the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie
(the one with Gene Wilder....btw..he's GREAT in that role)
Violet is the girl who chews gum and gets a piece she should not get. In the end, it turns her into a huge, bloated, rolling blueberry. Well, just call me Violet!
No..I'm not purple (and I quote "You're turning violet Violet!")

But I sure am 'round and rolling' like Violet was.
Dinner is over and the Violet syndrome has hit. Round as a blueberry. Yep, it's Beer Barrel time!

(I'm waiting for the umpa lumpa's to show up and roll me to the juicing room!)


Now I wait for the next two symptoms to appear...gas and possibly diarrhea  
(funny word there isn't it? diarrhea...hmm)
I keep having this commercial run through my head..the commercial for 'beano' .."Take beano before and there'll be no gas."  I seriously have my doubts this would work for a menopausal crone.
(..does this ever end?)

This must be my punishment for eating Cheetos yesterday. Yup. I love Cheetos...the crunchy ones. I partake of them very rarely matter of fact, but yesterday was one of those rare days.

(took me 3 hours to clean the 'orange Cheeto dust' off my broom handle!)

Add the Chinese food I had the night before and I led myself right into certain doom!
DOOM I tell you!

Oh..just so you'll know, I'm on the downside of the "two week Meno-hell' ..(where all the symptoms of crone-hood hit with a vengeance!)
I will get about a weeks worth of 'easing off' before the damnation hits again in full force. I savor the near normalcy of it. I even have a tendency to get things accomplished during the 'down time' because I surely have gotten nothing done so far this week.

Oh! let me relay to you how bad the wrackspurts hit me yesterday mmmmk?
I had to go downtown and order a part for our red mazda. (..the red mazda is the 'work car' that dementor drives to and from the job, I haven't driven it in over a year)
I have the part in hand that needs to be replaced and walk into the parts store. I hand the part to them and say "Hubs said..'match it'.." and of course, they start asking me questions:  Herein is the conversation;

Clerk: "what does it go on?"
Me: "a car"
Clerk: "what kind of car?"
Me: A mazda..older model
Clerk: "Do you know the year?"
Me: "uhmmmmmmmm 80 something?" (egads..I can't remember..panic starts to hit.. I'm wracking my brain trying to remember what type of mazda because I KNOW this is the next question and for the life of me I cannot remember what the hell type of car other then 'mazda' in my wrackspurt rattled brain!)
Clerk: "What type of Mazda? (I give the clerk a blank stare)...........an rx7?"
Me: Uhmm no, I know it's not an rx7, I'm driving an rx8 now..
Clerk: "It's not a truck right?
Me: No, it's a car.
Clerk: "And you don't know what kind or the year?"
Me: I'm really sorry, I haven't driven the car in near two years and I just cannot remember what it is.

Ohmygawd..I felt soooo stupid!
HOWEVER..all is good, they matched the part put it on order and I picked it up today.
The sad part about all this is..I looked yesterday after I got home to find out what I was forgetting.
You know what......I've forgotten again. All I can tell you is it's an Mazda MX something!
I feel so retarded sometimes.
I hate meno-hell.

The Crone of wrackspurted meno-hell

Sage

PS. It's a 1991 Mazda MX 6

A Jim Jones night! (WTH?)

Here we are again, another day and another night of fitful sleep.  Welcome to my world. The world of Sleepless Crones.

Last night I had the most horrid of dreams. Funny too because I have not 'dreamed' a dream that I can remember in many moons.
At 11:30pm I trotted off to bed. Dementor was sleeping from corner to corner, smack dab in the middle. I didn't disturb him, just went back to the couch.

(this is not an unusual thing for me)

I immediately fell asleep. (this is a good thing!)
And so the dream begins:
In my dream I was a bit younger then I am now, my mother and father were with me (both having passed over years ago and both a bit younger in my dream). We were in a house I did not recognize. (now here comes the truly truly bizarre part)
We were in the process of committing a semi mass suicide. (meaning just the 3 of us, not thousands)

(BLINK BLINK..WTH?)

It seems my father had convinced us both (my mother and I) to drink some sort of poison..for some reason I want to say it was antifreeze..not too sure about that though. I remember going along with it (all too easy I might add) and feeling my lips and legs begin to tingle after a short while ..I remember asking him "how much longer" and his reply "Should only be a little while now..a few more minutes." So off I go to lay down to finish dying. Flat on my back..arms semi crossed over me.
(blink blink.........uhm..no!)
This whole scenario was done in such a calm, no rush, everyday manner it just baffled me to no end. It was as if this was done pretty regularly!

(WTH?? ME? OH hell no!)

I seem to recall, there was a 'reason' behind this madness but I have no clue as to WHAT!
This is when I woke up and I was in the same position of my dream. (can we say FREAKY!)
I was very surprised to see the time was 2:30am.   Three hours had passed, but when I woke it felt like I had only been asleep for maybe an hour at most.
Now....WHY in the hell would I have a dream such as this? I detest those who take the easy road out and commit suicide.
The first thought in my mind was Jim Jones. Good gawd, what an ass he was! Charismatic ass, but an ass all the same.

So, I've done a bit of research this morning.
Here are a few sites that tell what it means to 'dream of death'..in its many forms. I've starred the ones I like the best.
**Jeremy Taylor; Dream Work
Dream Dictionary on Suicide in dreams
Dream Dictionary  on poison in dreams

It was all very unreal and bizarre. I would NEVER..EVER in my "WILDEST" dreams do something such as this.
So after reading the above sites, I have asked myself this "what have I given up on?".."what am I trying to 'get rid of?" ...and best of all "what has died within me to allow a 'new growth to begin?"
All these are cool questions and ones I probably need to answer. Maybe today is a day for circle time. Meditation and all that. Maybe the gods do speak in mysterious ways.

(all I can say is "GEEZ..find a different way will ya!)

Till then, I'm off to be my croney self and find something to get into. I have a strange feeling it won't be a nap!
Bizarre I tell you...bizarre.

No more late night Chinese for me!

The Crone of " No sleep, must not sleep..(yawn) .."

Sage

Things revisited

A few posts back I mentioned an upcoming camping trip..medieval style. That event has come and gone and I had a blast. Met some new friends, chatted with some old ones and generally enjoyed the hell out of myself. 
It's a cool feeling to know you're responsible for no one but yourself. Really. Very empowering, everyone should try it once in a while. I mean, if I wanted to wander off and check out this thing or that..I could. No one to say "I'm going here or there to..no one to 'seek out' and inform.

( I don't usually 'ASK' permission for anything from anyone, but I do inform others of my intent most days)

During my trip back to the days of Lords and Ladies, Chivalry and War, I met a new friend.
During one of our fireside conversations we hit upon books that we had read and loved.
One of those was the "OutLander" series by Diana Gabaldon. I recommend these books to anyone who has a love of 'time travel' possibilities mixed with the historic middle ages, intrigue and robust, valiant, studly men.

*I think it's time for me to re-read these. Thrift store here I come.

Of course, now that I'm back at the old 'homestead'...things have returned to normal. I'm back to doing dishes, washing clothes and cooking dinner for the Dementor. Matter of fact, there was a small sink full of dishes and a dirty carpet awaiting my care when I arrived home.
(WTH?)
Did I think it would be any different?  Weeel..hell yes I did! He usually makes sure things are cleaned up a bit when I return from a jaunt away from prison home, but not so much this time.

The punishments will now begin for this transgression! 30 days in the stocks!! 

(ohh wait..I'm not in the middle ages anymore am I?..hmm too bad)


WAIT!!  I spoke too soon! Maybe I am! My electric just blinked out (luckily I'm on the laptop.)
Could it be Armageddon? Nuclear Holocaust? Or did some drunk fool hit the power line? Either way, when this happens, and the electric comes back on, my internet service flips me the flying fickle finger and says "fuck you" and refuses to work. It never fails. (copy paste add to word) 
(sigh)
You know what this means right? I'll have to climb my fat ass up on a chair, unplug it all, reset it all, plug it back in and hope with my fingers crossed that it will 'reconnect' and catch up..once the electric comes back on.  The last time this happened, took almost 8 hours to get the connection working again..

Living in the country has it's privileges and then there are those days....

So here I sit, me and my laptop, bitching and moaning about no 'net service'..and no electric and I just relived the middle ages...4 days without either and loved it. (not even a cell phone)..wth is wrong with this picture?? 



**The next day:


This morning, after trying for many hours to fix the problem and consistently failing, I made the fateful call to the phone company that provides my DSL service. A few calls later and a tech was on his way. Once he arrived, he wracked his brain for over an hour too. All the inside equipment was replaced.
(The electrical surge had fried the modem.) 
All the lines inside the house were changed as well as the wall connector. Still, it would not work. After a trip or two under the house to replace more lines, he tried once again. Nada.
Rubbing his head in bewilderment about the whole affair the last possible idea to try hit him. Replace the entire line from the box at the corner to the house. A temporary 'drop' down (what they call it) was put in place, and lo and behold, I had net service again.
(hell of an electrical surge is all I can say)
Total time to work on it and find the issue, 3+ hours.

We went to dinner as soon as he was gone..Chinese..one of my favorites. I fear however, that tomorrow, will be one of the Seven Dwarfs Days..(see bottom of page)..yep, I can feel it now, tomorrow will be the 'Bloated Dwarf' day.  Hey..at least he's cute. :)

Till next time,

The Crone of Fickle Fingered Internet

Sage

The Hairy Itch

Well here we are again, a visit with the Crone.
All the symptoms of Cronehood abounding!
Suffice it to say hot flashes and humidity do not mix. Nay Nay.
If you recall, the 'list' of things a Crone might experience 'itching' was one of them. This had pretty much escaped me for the most part.

(HAD was the key word) 

The itch has started. You REALLY don't want to know where it's started, honest you don't, but I'll give you a clue.

(Hmm how does one say this with tact and decorum?)

Let me put it this way..what does a man with sweaty balls do? He scratches them.  Lately, I've looked like a man with sweaty balls......mmmk?
That is where the itch will happen. Oh yes sister crones, the crotch. It will feel like you're two days out from a complete shave with the hair just starting to grow back. It comes and goes. And before you ask, no I don't 'have' anything. No yeast infection, no other type of infection either.
 I've been tempted to shave it again.............

(which I have not done in forever! pffft..what for!?)

But there's a problem with that...I can't see it anymore. Ok..not exactly true, but REACHING it to shave would be a struggle.

(remember..fat southern women here..mmk)

I'm not that limber anymore. Nope. Not even. Not gonna try either. I'd be sore for days from the stretching, grunting and groaning just trying to reach everywhere!
This 'itching' comes in stages too, much like the power surges. One day you will, one day you won't. One minute you will, one minute you won't.
Just so you'll know, it doesn't only itch there either. Wherever you may have hair growth, you will have itch. It seems the more hair, the more intense the itch. Go figure.

I'm beginning to think this is just a different form of chinese water torture. Uhmmhmm. Yep.
You can bathe, and scrub, powder and puff and it will not go away. Not until it's damned good and ready.

I'm lucky though. I'm home alone a lot so scratching where I itch is a given. Just remember to cut your nails.... short.


The Crone of Crotch Itch

Sage

Siberia here I come...

You know, I'm not sure where to begin this post.

I woke this morning, a little earlier then my normal time

(this 5 a.m. crap is for the birds)
And again, I was mad as hell. I had a reason this morning though...the Dementor.

(like there COULD be any other reason)

Let me explain:
Our weather, for the past 3 days has been glorious. Mid 70's during the day and into the lower 50's at night.

(Heck it even got to 45 one night..wohoo!)

Now, for a Crone who is always hot, what does this mean?
It means EVERYTHING!
All the windows were opened, the fans were blowing..ESPECIALLY at night bringing in all that cold air upon my over-heated, fat, southern powdered ass..I was in my element! I was actually sleeping better!
And then...........
It happened..........
The Dementor, upon wakening this morning decided he was 'cold' and turned off my fan. Turned off my coolness..in essence..turning off my sleep!
After he left for work, I woke. Not because of a noise, not because it was time, not because of anything other then..I was hot..I was sweating.
Something in the room had changed and I KNEW IT!
I sat bolt upright in the bed and peered into the darkness of the room..listening, like a puppy with their ears up, head cocked to the side.
AHAH! My fan was no longer pushing the chilly night air into the room. WTH?
The first words out of my mouth were "I'll be damned...he turned off my fan! ASSHOLE!..Just because YOU are cold does not mean you can take away my peace and tranquility!"

Out of the bed I came, and turned the fan back on just for spite. Needless to say, it was for my entertainment only.  It was 5 a.m., The Dementor had been gone for an hour.  He usually leaves at 4 a.m.
But I was awake now..sweating, in need of a bathroom. So here I sit, typing away, telling the world my woes. (shrug) what else are you gonna do at 6am in the morning. It's still dark out!

So, I woke on a bad note cussing the Dementor. I sure hope things get better.

(what a way to start the day huh?)

Will these hot flashes ever end?  I could be sitting in the middle of Siberia, naked and alone and still be sweating and cussing somebody!
 I had an elderly women once tell me I'd have the flashes for the rest of my life.
My question is..will I? Should I trust what she says, I mean..she was well into her 70's..so she's been through this already.
It is the voice of experience speaking when someone in their 70's tells you something you know.

(ohhhh puuuhleease say it isn't so!) 

This may well be my last post for the next week or so. I'll be leaving on Tuesday or Wednesday for a weeks vacation. With friends. Camping. In all the glorious chillyness. Yep..in a tent. Around a campfire.
I'm taking my Japanese hand fan with me.


The Crone of Cyber Siberia

Sage