I’m up in the wee hours, sitting in bed, eating a Stouffer’s chicken breast and mashed potato TV dinner that started out at 250 calories. That was before I added the butter. Rich is at some NCAA conference and Abby came home tonight and I picked her up at the airport, happy to see her but cranked by the " Move along" police brigade so I was having weird dreams and woke up. McCloud nuzzling me for a middle of the night snack didn’t help; initially it added a couple of weird furry thoughts to those sort of strange hynogogic dreams that come between sleep and awake.
Night waking doesn’t bother me any more. It happens about once a week and it’s been suggested more than once that if I would just throw in the towel and take HRT I’d sleep better. For now, flaming ear tips, an occasional momentary episode of psychotic rage and an opportunity to be up at 345 am knitting, reading and eating is fine, thank you very much.
evening, right at rush hour I had one of those brief moments of rage
and I cut lose with it and, don’t tell, but it felt SO DAMN GOOD. (Yes,
B, I meant to say "darn" or the French equivalent.) I set off to pick
Abby up at Tampa airport around 415, got within range at 445 and the
phone rang like clockwork: Abby said she was in, waiting for her heavy
checked luggage from the long Christmas break to come off the carousel
and she said she wanted to drop her two small backpack carry-ons in the
car before snagging her big stuff. I snaked my way up the long line to
the door and there she was and she dumped her stuff in the side door of
the car and said, "Ill be right back." There are four lanes there but
three of them, literally, are full of orange cones and yellow-bibbed
parking police. These guys have all the worse aspects of meter-maids
run amok plus they are armed. Potentially dangerous. "MOVE ALONG! MOVE
IT! MOVE IT!" Policeman wannabes. Flunky drill sergeants. "I SAID MOVE IT!!!" And
since they are little yellow-bibbed power mongers they work
independently of one another with no cooperation so one is screaming
and gesturing for you to "PULL OUT! PULL OUT" while 4 more are artfully
rearranging cones, screaming at other cars and blocking my egress. "Ya.
I know who shoulda pulled out" I thought to myself…
happened in the instants it took for Abby to open the door and put in
two backpacks. No one was lingering or loitering anywhere. So he
screams, "Are you done loading??? MOVE OUT!!" so I pulled out,
calculated the odds of jail time if I hit a couple of his compadres in
bibs, and circled the airport SIX more
times. 45 minutes later and on the final pass, I saw Abby back on the
curb with her suitcases. Okay, so it makes sense you don’t want people
idling there for 45 minutes while the baggage handlers are on dinner
break or strike or sifting through undies for electronics- whatever. I
get that. But this time, Abby is rolling her luggage and has her hand
on the door of the car and this same little bully wiener screams, "MOVE
IT!" one time too many at moi.
I lean out and say, voice
slightly exasperated, "I’m loading!" He screams, "MOVE IT!" (His
vocabulary is limited.) I say, loudly, "I’M LOADING!" as Abby is
literally putting her bags into the car on the curb side. And he says, all nasty and sarcastic,
"ARE YOU DONE LOADING YET?" That was the straw, my friends.
have cut down my swearing to virtually none. Well, essentially, very
little in the past two years. I no longer swear except for very special
occasions. And this was one. He had his little scrunched up pug-nosed
bully face just a little too close to my car window for my liking. I
screamed, "DOES IT LOOK LIKE I’M FINISHED LOADING, ASSHOLE???? LOOK. LOOK
AND THINK. SEE WHAT SHE IS DOING OVER THERE RATHER THAN SCREAM AT ME!
AND GET A REAL JOB, YOU STUPID OVERGROWN CROSSING GUARD!"
I forgot he
had a gun. Didn’t matter. His face expanded like a purple dirigible and
bubbles started coming out of his mouth and then foam and my daughter,
who has been known to be so embarrassed by her mother she wants to melt
away, whispered, "You GO, mom. Tell him!" He screamed "MOVE THIS
VE-HICKLE!" and tripped backwards over three orange cones one of his
less than observant cohorts had plunked behind him. I yelled, "Stay
down til some one runs you over!", waved and took off.
Lordie, that was fun.
problem with Stouffer’s frozen entrees is that at my
age and with the humidity in Florida, there’s a slight issue with
fluid retention. I have very low blood pressure but still my fingers
take on a snausage like quality and I figure this edema can’t be
localized in just my fingers. I think I get extra fluid and pressure on
my brain stem, too. You?
So, I went to see Laura at Somewhere in NJ
because she is hosting, "Good Planets" photo essay this week and I like
seeing what people view as the very best parts of the planet earth.
Check it out.
And the other blog I went to see tonight was this one,
recommended by the linkage queen, Michelle. I rarely add a new blog to
the list I read regularly but this one is a new surefire daily read for
me. Smart, smart, smart and funny- and it only takes 10 seconds. None
of this blithering blogging stuff there. Check her out. You’ll be glad.
Then you can send that link to all your college Starter People and they
will think it clever, too.
later today with pictures of furniture, upholstery fabric you can help
me choose, and maybe some manatees. I left my Yellow Crowned Night
Heron at Good Planets. And now, with a tummy full of comfort food and
the cats back to sleep, well, sweet dreams.