i need a writing prompt.
Otherwise, this is going to be a hopeless ramble. So, any thoughts? Oddly enough, I'm not going to get an answer because I'm here by myself. Let's try this again.
It's drizzling. No, it's mizzling. No, really it's just a bit soft. Well fine, it's lashing out then. Maybe it's pouring. In fact, it's none of those right now, or actually, I don't think it's doing anything like that right now. It's just cold. Bone cold. When I was little my father would tell me about skiing in Smuggler's Notch when he was in college. He would talk about the bone-chilling temperatures and how he and his pal Andy would ski for several hours anyways. Perhaps this is why he has had frostbite on both ears, his nose and his toes. At the time of the story telling, I couldn't understand the idea of temperatures that would freeze your actual skin. I could understand sweating and then the sweat turning to ice and making you colder than you should be. I could understand your breath condensing on your scarf or muffler and the resulting chaffing that would happen around the chin/nose/cheek area. But I didn't understand that actuality of freezing skin. At the moment, I can't say that I know what it is to freeze but I can imagine. I told you this would be a ramble. You were warned.
According to the MayoClinic.com, 'Raynaud's disease is a condition that causes some areas of your body - such as your fingers, toes, tip of your nose and your ears - to feel numb and cool in response to cold temperatures or stress. In Raynaud's disease, arteries that supply blood to your skin narrow, limiting blood circulation to affected areas.' Oddly enough, it looks like frostbite on first glance. I have Raynaud's, unfortunately. This means that although I love the cold weather, my tolerance for it is quickly becoming nil. I used to happily go without any jacket until the beginning of November and the beginnings of the serious cold. Now the temp drops below 60 and I run for my fleece socks, sweat shirts and multiple layers. Hell, I might as well pull out the thermals.
Now, why do neither of my parents have Raynaud's? Why do neither of them like olives? Or artichokes? Or sushi?
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Ok, that was the wine invading.
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what do you do when your grandfather is dying?
people have died before.
and they'll keep on dying.
it isn't the death that troubles me.
it's my grandfather.
when did he become so bitter.
and biting?
and is it genetic?
there's a bitter streak in the family.
i don't think this is productive.
let sleeping dogs lie.
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A Drinking Song
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
Yeats (1910)
too true sometimes.
ok, so this is completely disjointed and probably will make no sense to anyone but myself come morning time. but i feel better now. life is, as they say, going on. i'm busier than i feel is absolutely necessary, but i'd rather be busy than bored. i could use a few more friends. not in the 'i don't have enough as it is' sort of way, but my social life is rather drear. sometimes i feel like a recluse. tcha.
anyways, this is rather more melancholy than i planned. i told you i needed a writing prompt.
is anyone else as fascinated by Palin as I am? She scares me. right down to my toe nails.
It's drizzling. No, it's mizzling. No, really it's just a bit soft. Well fine, it's lashing out then. Maybe it's pouring. In fact, it's none of those right now, or actually, I don't think it's doing anything like that right now. It's just cold. Bone cold. When I was little my father would tell me about skiing in Smuggler's Notch when he was in college. He would talk about the bone-chilling temperatures and how he and his pal Andy would ski for several hours anyways. Perhaps this is why he has had frostbite on both ears, his nose and his toes. At the time of the story telling, I couldn't understand the idea of temperatures that would freeze your actual skin. I could understand sweating and then the sweat turning to ice and making you colder than you should be. I could understand your breath condensing on your scarf or muffler and the resulting chaffing that would happen around the chin/nose/cheek area. But I didn't understand that actuality of freezing skin. At the moment, I can't say that I know what it is to freeze but I can imagine. I told you this would be a ramble. You were warned.
According to the MayoClinic.com, 'Raynaud's disease is a condition that causes some areas of your body - such as your fingers, toes, tip of your nose and your ears - to feel numb and cool in response to cold temperatures or stress. In Raynaud's disease, arteries that supply blood to your skin narrow, limiting blood circulation to affected areas.' Oddly enough, it looks like frostbite on first glance. I have Raynaud's, unfortunately. This means that although I love the cold weather, my tolerance for it is quickly becoming nil. I used to happily go without any jacket until the beginning of November and the beginnings of the serious cold. Now the temp drops below 60 and I run for my fleece socks, sweat shirts and multiple layers. Hell, I might as well pull out the thermals.
Now, why do neither of my parents have Raynaud's? Why do neither of them like olives? Or artichokes? Or sushi?
---------------------------------------------------------
Ok, that was the wine invading.
--------------------------------------------------------
what do you do when your grandfather is dying?
people have died before.
and they'll keep on dying.
it isn't the death that troubles me.
it's my grandfather.
when did he become so bitter.
and biting?
and is it genetic?
there's a bitter streak in the family.
i don't think this is productive.
let sleeping dogs lie.
-----------------------------------------------------
A Drinking Song
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
Yeats (1910)
too true sometimes.
ok, so this is completely disjointed and probably will make no sense to anyone but myself come morning time. but i feel better now. life is, as they say, going on. i'm busier than i feel is absolutely necessary, but i'd rather be busy than bored. i could use a few more friends. not in the 'i don't have enough as it is' sort of way, but my social life is rather drear. sometimes i feel like a recluse. tcha.
anyways, this is rather more melancholy than i planned. i told you i needed a writing prompt.
is anyone else as fascinated by Palin as I am? She scares me. right down to my toe nails.