Anatomy of the Common Cold

I began getting sick last week. At first, I coughed a lot and my nose sort of, kind of, maybe needed a Kleenex® every 15 minutes. But it wasn't too bad. I just had to keep blowing my nose for no real good reason, other than to make my nose sore. And because I thought I should.

I coughed. I sneezed. It wasn't too bad. Until it got worse.

On Sunday, we went to see the kids as we usually do. I had a month of essays to edit and so I took them in the car. I read them out loud which is entertaining for the driver – or so he claims. And I edit as I read and so it is productive for me. I got a little more than half way through the month on the way down.

We stayed for a few hours, ate lunch, played games, went for a walk, and then had to come back home. I continued reading the essays out loud. But my voice had changed. It went from its normal pitch to quite raspy. And from quite raspy to even worse, more like frog croaking. But I finished off the month as the sun began to set and was quiet the rest of the way home.

By Monday, my voice was almost entirely gone. I hadn't hardly slept at all because I would cough and sneeze and forget to breathe. Even with a bit of effort, breathing was less satisfying than it should be. I woke at 3 AM and never did get back to sleep. I tried drinking lemon tea. I gave up and went to coffee and went on with my day. My voice was barely audible even if I was shouting. And what managed to come out was only partial words. Amazingly, my throat didn't hurt. I just couldn't talk.

On Tuesday, my voice was a little better, although still on the scary side. I still wasn't sleeping. I was now running through Kleenex® at an amazing rate. I looked horrible, my voice was croaking, and other than being really tired and with burning eyes, I didn't feel bad.

LC had surgery on her left knee on Friday. She had four stitches put in and is now wearing a lampshade on her head to keep her away from the surgical site. At least that was the theory. Because she is so long, she managed to get to her knee on Tuesday evening. She ripped out one stitch before we caught her. We then had to get through the night before I could get her to the vet's again. We tried wrapping her leg, but that didn't work before and it still didn't work now even with better supplies. We needed to make the lampshade bigger so she couldn't get to her leg. The stupid dog was outsmarting the two humans. This was humiliating.

We tried a couple things without any success. Once she figured out how to get to her knee, she was good to go back at it repeatedly. Looking through supplies in the house, I came upon large binder clips. We placed the clips all around the end of the lampshade, making it quite large and unwieldy and hampering her ability to chew her leg off. It made a comical picture and if she wasn't already so miserable, I would have taken a picture. But she hates the camera and didn't need one more thing to go wrong.

I went to bed early with a dog right there with a noisy lampshade on her head. She did wake me up twice during the night as she stirred in her bed. The clips dragging on the floor were enough to wake me up. But I went right back to sleep. I woke up Wednesday actually rested.

But my voice was still bad. Not as bad as it had been. I also had some of my appetite back and could actually eat a whole meal. My eyes had stopped burning after a night's sleep. I was still going through Kleenex® by the box, but I was getting better. I also took LC to the vet and we got a larger lampshade for her. The remaining stitches are intact.

Today, Thursday, I woke up with my voice almost back to normal. But I'm trying to cough my head off. And sneezing. My God, I can't stop sneezing. Each day is slightly different. One thing is better and another thing is worse. I finally decided to call in sick for tomorrow's volunteer stint. I wouldn’t want me coughing all over a fresh post-op patient, so I will assume no one else does, either.

Now that I've done that, I will probably wake up tomorrow completely cured. At least I can hope that happens.

I'm Unbalanced

I've been striving, working, toiling, attempting to regain the body I had when I was my children's ages. I have no idea where it went, but I'm going to guess it found solace in Velvet Fudge Sauce or a bag of potato chips. Wherever it went, it seems to adore the place as it will not come back without undue coaxing on my part.

To that end [that's a pun there] I have been exercising. First I bought an elliptical torture system and began to slowly acclimate myself to a more active lifestyle. Of course, since I spend most of my day in front of my computer, wiggling my toes on occasion would be a more active lifestyle.

At any rate, I began moving daily [Sunday's off] and could get into some of my pants with zippers. They still need to have a little stretch or give to them, but I can fit in more of my pants than before I started this lifestyle choice.

I've tried doing the elliptical with books on CD playing. I've tried it to music. Today, I read while slogging through 30 minutes of what my son tells me I will come to enjoy. I believe that will be the week after hell freezes over and with global warming and all …

At any rate, my sister and partner in crime mentioned the wonders of Wii. Being old and lazy, I was skeptical but my baby sister said playing with a Wii was fun and burned calories and made exercise more of a game. Since I hate exercise that is exercise and I used to love playing games, I shelled out the money for a Wii and a Wii Fit.

Wii Fit is a balance board. It measures the pressure across the board and moves a cursor or game controller by sensing your shifting balance. To be physically fit, according to Wii, I need to have some sense of balance and be able to move the control by shifting my weight right, left, forward, backward, or some combination of the moves.

I keep being told I'm unbalanced. I have no sense of balance and cannot shift appropriately to make the games really work. It is frustrating. My sister told me that my competitiveness was 'sucking the fun' right out of the games. If I didn't need to always be perfect and always do everything just so, if I would just enjoy the moment – then I would have more fun.

Wii Fit has four different sections. There is Yoga, Strength Training, Aerobics, and Balance. One of the games in the Balance section is downhill skiing. By shifting weight on the balance board, you can ski between all the flags and end your run with pride. In theory. I can't. I was complaining about this very game when my sister did the whole sucking joy thing.

I tried to take her words to heart. I don't need to be perfect. I'm old and just beginning to work on getting back into some shape other than 'puff ball.' So I spent the afternoon in quiet pursuits. My sister called me that evening to tell me she had hit the slopes with a perfect score and achieved some extra levels. I mentioned the whole non-competitive thing and she just laughed maniacally.

I still can't do it. I'm failing. I'm unbalanced. The game asks me if I trip while I walk.

But, on a happier note, I can hula hoop like you wouldn't believe.

Socialism

Barack Obama's presidential win made the message boards on the British forum where I play. They were so happy a Socialist was going to ru(i)n our country, because they apparently find the Socialist regime in England wonderful. At least, that's what they seemed to be saying. I did not use the word Socialist. And they were all happy about Karl Marx and saying just how much like Karl the Rock was.

So what exactly did Karl say that was so impressive? He said, "From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs." What most idiots forget is the first half of this little ditty. They are very concerned with the second half.

A political cartoon by Clay Bennett from my mail today had a picture of a ballot with "Decision 2008" written across the top and two choices. The first was "We" and the second was "Me." This got me to thinking, which is probably gratifying to Mr. Bennett. What it made me think, however, is not what he probably expected.

I voted to keep my stuff. I like a Capitalist society where people who work hard and are diligent are rewarded with the fruits of their labors. I don't want to pay more taxes so people who don't work can have the same life-style as me. If they want the same life-style, I'm willing to allow them to work just as hard as I have all my life. I'm assuming, and maybe I'm incorrect, that would put me in the "Me" category for the cartoonist.

Why is someone who wants me to support them, to lift them up to my level by supplying the rewards of what I've worked, why is someone unwilling to work considered a "We?" Those people who would benefit from my labor seem far more "Me" than anyone who simply wanted to keep the things they worked for. I am not asking the "We" people for anything more than to simply be left alone. THEY want MY stuff. That seems far more egocentric than me just wanting to keep what I've earned.

Wednesday I looked at the election results and began to worry about what we've managed to accumulate over decades of hard work and self-deprivation. I was hoping to live a reasonable life and be able to leave my kids an inheritance. Good-by inheritance. If I'm going to be taxed to the rate of Socialized America, I'm not going to be able to save anymore funding. What we currently have should last us, maybe. But that isn't with a much higher taxation rate.

I've lived within my means all my life. When we couldn't afford fancy vacations, we didn't take them. If we didn't have the cash, we didn't buy it (excluding house and car) and we lived without credit card debt. I worked all day and came home and cooked dinner. We rarely went out to eat and we still don't. And for all that deprivation, what's my reward? I should support someone else.

Marx has a beginning part of his famous quote that is usually totally ignored. "From each according to his abilities" means everyone should be out in the work force doing something. If you are too stupid for anything else, you can babysit for the people who are skilled at something. No stay-at-home moms. That's not all you are able to do.

The reason this didn't work in the USSR was because if there is no incentive (higher pay or more reward) for good work than bad, why work harder? The reason the US grew so quickly from upstart colony to world power was because when we worked hard, we received the benefit of our labor. The more you tax, the less the benefit. The less reason to work hard.

Dad always said that no poor person ever made a job for anyone else. The workers need a place to work. As crummy as the Vanderbilts or Carnegies might have been, they created jobs with their wealth. Without Ford or Olds, what factory workers would have a job making cars? We need those with bright ideas to be able to profit from all the hard work they have invested in their product.

So what did I decide about money? I decided to spend it all. After taxes. I have enough for at least the next few years. Then I will became a "We" and hope there are enough "Me" folks to continue to support me in their life-style.

BTW, Open Secret says the Obama campaign raised $639 million and spent $573 million on his win. McCain's campaign raised $360 million and spent $293 million. Why are Republicans considered the "rich" folks?

Leave Me Alone

I've written in the past about my complete dislike for telemarketers. I'm on the Do Not Call list and it has helped tremendously. Apparently, political pollsters are not part of the group constrained by the list, but that's not my issue.

Yesterday, I was at my computer when I saw two women approaching my house. They were unfashionably dressed and carrying books. Always a bad sign. I knew they were going to try to sell me God. I hate being sold someone else's brand of God. I have my own brand, thank you very much.

I wrote about it at MWC. And I've been amused and astounded by some of the comments. I feel as if I'm assaulted when uninvited people enter my domain. I see absolutely no difference between a telemarketer and some door-to-door God-seller. I have been able to read for 50 years now and if I were in need of either God or cable service, I could let my fingers do the walking through the yellow pages and find out where to go in search of either.

I'm sure when the two families left here, all they did was go around the corner and start again. How terribly unfair to the little girl they were forcing on this outing. She looked to be the same size as Aiden. How cruel it would be to take him canvassing door-to-door instead of allowing him to benefit from the beautiful place God made for mankind. I just kept thinking the darling kid should have been on a soccer field. The parents weren't taking care of her needs, but forcing a small child to take care of their needs. Poor parenting if nothing else.

I also noticed it was the women who came sans child to my house. I guess they felt less likely to be sworn at. So the little girl went with the two men. I guess she was supposed to keep surly homeowners from swearing at her dad. Another point for poor parenting. I didn't swear at the women, but not because of anything to do with them, but more to do with my own code of conduct. If I were in the swearing frame of mind, I would have been doubly encouraged by the presence of a child, not quelled. I mean, if you don't want irate homeowners to swear in front of your kid, leave the kid at home. This is not rocket science.

I am about ready to find a Jehovah's Witness hall and stand in the parking lot after services and preach Catholicism. I know the drill. I can recite the Nicene Creed and offer them salvation through Jesus Christ as first delivered here on Earth, not some watered down subsidiary, but the real deal. The Church with Peter, who was the rock Jesus built his church upon. Says so right in that book they were carrying with them.

But that would take some effort on my part and frankly, these dimwits aren't worth the time or trouble. I'm dismayed at their use of children, however. It seems like I should have called Children's Services or something. There has to be some way to protect small children from incompetent adults.