mrissa | Ick report, with ick removed.

Going to

mmerriam's reading last night was probably not my wisest move ever -- not because of the reading, just because I am still extremely unsteady, and was even more so last night. (Sorry,

allochthon! I really do like to talk to you when I can concentrate on two things at once, like talking and remaining upright!)

Going to the doctor this morning was pretty reasonable (pre-scheduled gynecologist appointment, not extra food-poisoning-related one): there was only so much worse I could end up feeling, and it wasn't that bad. (And my blood pressure was once again up as far as 100/60! As if I was a human being and not a geranium! Oh, I was so excited. Of course that may have skewed the numbers...hmm....) And we have some stuff to try to make my menstrual cycle not such complete hell before we try other stuff, and that's what I have to say about that in a public forum. If you consider it your business, you can e-mail me, but be forewarned that the numbers of people who are right in considering it their business are extremely limited. And it's not like an infomercial: acting now will not help.

I'm in baby-step mode around here. Do a bit of revision on MSS. Rest. Wrap some presents. Rest. Etc. Not my favorite mode, but sometimes a necessary one.

I am finding myself quite guiltily grateful that

markgritter decided to have a handful of people over for games rather than a real birthday party this year. I will still try to overhost -- remember, I am the person

retrobabble had to smack down for trying to be hostly in a hotel room in a strange city while I had the flu -- but if things are not up to my standards, it's not a big event for which I will have worked myself silly, it's just a few friends who can get their own damn Doritos out of the pantry if it works out that way. Oh, you want a glass of water? Are your legs broken?

As I ponder this last expression, a favorite of my aunts and cousins when I was little, it occurs to me that they always asked in the plural. It was not good enough to have one broken leg. If you had one broken leg, you were presumably about to be sent to get your own water, and possibly told not to be such a baby, because when the greats got here from Norway, Great-Grandma had to carry the logs to the river with two broken legs, and she didn't whine about it.

Tough crowd, my aunts. Of course, if you actually had a broken leg, or, y'know, a hangnail on your little toe, the story would be quite different. Still.

I'm also thinking about Stravinsky, but I'm pretty sure that can wait.