morning after

Last evening was no good, but I'm better after sleep. Still shaky on food, still supposed to ice my face periodically until mid-afternoon. The ice is good but inhibits activity. (The Vicodin as well.)

So. Um. What are you reading? Is it good?

Have you got a song in your head? What song? Are your earworms random or significant or some of each?

Tell me about a childhood comfort object.

Tell me about a time you underestimated yourself.

quick gallery notice between icings

My aunt -- whose name is Mary Lingen -- is showing some of her paintings in Flanders Gallery at 3012 Lyndale Ave. S., Minneapolis. If you like the painting above our fireplace, that's one of hers. Even if you don't, consider stopping by and giving her stuff a look! I think her recent work is really good stuff (not that I disliked her old stuff, either!), and I'm excited for her that she's found such a good creative vein to mine. I'd describe it as natural-abstract -- not nearly as abstract as some of her older work. Stop on by if you get the chance.

update

This is worse than when I had the left set out. I'm pretty sure. More nausea, more difficulty swallowing, more dizziness. My mother is a Hero of the Revolution for having Ista today: she is a good Nurse Puppy, but she often wants to lick her alpha monkey's face, and I don't think I could deal with that right now.

Also I am having the weirdest half-dreams when I lie down and close my eyes. papersky, do you really find it troublesome to have charge of an inflatable hippo balloon? Because in my half-dream, zorinth had bought you one for a Thanksgiving present, and it was more trouble than a new puppy, and also rysmiel had dropped the planet (that is, Earth) down between the seats of dd_b's car and we had to try to get it out again without causing global cataclysms. There was some reason that the car's color (green) was some relief under the circumstances, but I was never clear on why that was; rysmiel and dd_b had a good deal more experience in retrieving planets from automobiles than I did, in this half-dream.

I shall continue reading Nalo Hopkinson. That will make my trains of semi-conscious thought much more normal. Riiiiight.

Nicer to me.

I swear people are nicer to me than they are to other people.

I just got a gift certificate in the mail from Rice Paper, thanking me for my warmth, support, and presence, which -- I am told -- enliven Rice Paper's spirit.

Golly.

It's one of my favorite restaurants, but I don't think I've done anything noteworthy there. I just, y'know, show up sometimes.

I am just knocked over by this. (And anyone suggesting it's the Vicodin can hush.)

This is the kind of thing that makes me think that people are nicer to me than they are to other people, and I can't really say why they would be, but it's extremely pleasant when it happens.

Wow.