shoebox_dw: (pbs possum can't sweep)
My fiction project posting - or any other kind, come to that - has been handily derailed by the Annual Laryngitis Convention that set up in my throat over the holiday weekend. Having a great old time down there, to all appearances (and why not? They get fed Creamsicles and ginger tea on a regular basis, the slobs).

And I have not yet reached the stage where worrying about my writing is more interesting than my throat being on fire. Possibly tomorrow. Until then...*waves feebly at the outside word*
shoebox_dw: (gf amazing talents)
...well, actually the best way involves cozy-fresh jammies, some crackers and ginger-ale and a new Jane Austen DVD. Once that gets old, however, there's always changing your LiveJournal theme.

Nice, no? It's part of my ongoing 'go bold or go home' plan. I wanted something a bit more sophisticated, as translated largely to: not pastel. Plus, with this particular theme ('Smooth Sailing' if you're interested), you can play around with stuff like fonts and colours. There's a nifty colour scheme over on my old message board that I'm thinking of importing eventually.

[yawn] Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see if there are any crackers left...

shoebox_dw: (gf enlightened)
...and it is codeine. Lots of it.

To backtrack a bit: I have - or had, now - a couple of frankly rotten wisdom teeth in the back of my mouth. Friday afternoon I developed a killer toothache, the kind that prevents you from concentrating on anything other than, well, KILLER TOOTHACHE OMYGOD THE PAIN GET IT OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW WHY WON'T IT COME OUT OHMYGOD JUSTMAKEITSTOPRIGHTNOW...

Yeah. Try being trapped on a bus, in urban traffic, in this condition. Nothing works on this kind of toothache. Advil by the handful, Orajel, nada. The only relief I have ever found is very direct application of cold - in sipping ice water, or a bit of ice in my mouth. The problem is this remedy only lasts for about thirty seconds, then the pain starts gathering again and I hasten to take another sip, then another...before you know it, you're a hopeless Evian junkie. As Shoemom pointed out, in her own inimitable lemons-to-lemonade fashion: 'Well, you're certainly getting your system flushed out, anyhow!"

Also, as you can imagine, this remedy is not very practical for sleeping. As of Saturday night I was reduced to experimenting with holding an ice cube between my teeth..all that did was give misery the option, wake me up from pain or in a soggy puddle of drool. Or both.

By Sunday morn my dentist phobia was as if nonexistent by comparison, and I got both teeth extracted. The local emergency dental clinic may be unconcerned with frills like putting patients at ease, but by God they are efficient. And by that I mean, they prescribe codeine. By Sunday night, I was flying so high I had my formal PopMatters column proposal typed out and sent pretty much before I even realised what was happening.

(Including a link back to this blog, incidentally...uh, I can write when not under the influence, I swear. Although, when you're hopped up enough, the concept of  what would basically be a Muppet Hunter S. Thompson is kind of an interesting one...)

There was also the thing where I rewrote the entire TVTropes entry for Sesame Street, but that need not concern us here. The really intriguing news is that the prescription runs another week or so...and I'm already pondering a possible breakthrough in my fiction stalemate, finishing the sci-fi piece I'd started at least. Just out of curiosity, were I to post installments here, as I'd thought of doing previously, would anybody care to beta-read?
shoebox_dw: (i need a hug)
So I'm having a sick day...actually, more of an "I feel intensely like staying indoors where it's warm, cuddling up in my PJs and indulging myself with hot toast and toffees" day. You know, the kind that tends to hit females once a month or so.

Seriously, I probably should feel guilty about this but I don't in the slightest. I haven't had a really good self-indulgence in ages. Besides which it'll give me a chance to do some more sorting out re: my next writing project - yes, we're back to wangsting about that again, although I've managed to keep it mostly off-blog this time. I just seriously do feel like I'm ready for the next level of literary challenge...and you know where we go from there, right? (No, not more pointless Bob & Ray trivia. Think that particular biographical urge is out of the system for now...although I can't say it'll never strike again.)

In the meanwhile, and in keeping with the general theme of all things cozy and comforting, let's get on with the next installment in the review series: Kidlit.

Read more... )
shoebox_dw: (i need a hug)
Reports to the contrary greatly exaggerated, I do assure all and [checks statcounter again] uh, sundry.

However - much as it pains me to speak harshly of a valuable body part, especially one that's usually got my back whenever Shoemom starts nagging re: chocolate consumption - the ol' immune system doesn't get much credit for the case. Having successfully fought free of the sinus infection mentioned previously, all the teeny little T-cells were apparently too busy at the tiny little celebratory sock hop to notice that same infection sneaking back in through my throat.

(No, I have no idea why T-cells would want to throw a sock hop at any time. Maybe they were grooving to the new Britney tunes instead. Or sitting around chuckling at their vintage copy of Archie Meets the Punisher that they just found back in a drawer somewhere. Hell, with easily-distracted wee buggers like these, anything's possible.)

Anyway, in a fashion strikingly reminiscent of Carrie grabbing Amy Irving from beyond the grave only even more pointlessly annoying, I've spent the past week running through all those ungodly symptoms yet again - sniffles and chills and fatigue, oh my - with the added bonus of a deep, chest-rattling cough. It was a really interesting week to be sitting in a five-person cubicle when the email re: free tuberculosis testing came down, let's put it that way.

shoebox_dw: (gf bucky pointing)
So it's Day One of the Great Writing Experiment - in which yours truly spends an hour a day writing something, anything - and I'm sitting here sicker than a dog. Which you'd think I'd be used to by now as a monthly occurrence, but nooooo, somehow I always end up with new and exciting modes of crampage. Some perverse prototype version of forgetting the pain of childbirth, I s'pose.

Anyhoo...let's see...yeah, not much else going on around here. The books all say write what you know, but they never say what to do if what you know isn't all that exciting. Like, yay, I had cake today. (Although, don't get me wrong, it was massively good cake. Someday, if you're very very nice to me, I'll share the secret recipe for Shoemom's chocolate decadence).

Turns out on closer examination most of my blogging inspirations work by tagging on to some inherently cool stuff - comics, say, or celebrity gossip. As noted in the previous 'whoo-hoo-I'm-back' entry, I don't even watch TV, much, and the stuff that I do watch is hampered by the fact that I'm in Canada. We're Number Two! Is there a market for six-month-old Top Chef recaps?

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