Sunday, November 9, 2014

A Bath, a God, a Skull, and Spoons #NaBloPoMo

I'm sitting upright at the computer, not thanking the Gods of Tech for the new (to me) auto suggestions on the iPhone 5C, as I type clumsily or dictate strangely.
Huge aside: Who IS the God of tech, do you think? I think it's Mercury—er, Hermes. I was always a devotee of the Greek pantheon, but there's a Wiccan chant that begins "Horus, Osiris, Apollo, Mercury,..." so I always call Hermes "Mercury" first, then correct myself. You'd think Nathan Fillion playing Hermes in the Percy Jackson movies would at last cure me of my unforgivable heresy, but no: He remains My Captain. 
But returning from Olympus and fandom, this evening feels like a fever has finally broken and the lingering pain is in my range of normal, however fucked up my definition of normal may be. It does often include achieving sitting upright only with a huge slab of ice stuffed down my jeans.

I also managed a bath, which was a total sensory delicacy, though I needed Mr. Bones to help me out. He suggested it's time for a handle grip thingy in the tub which is probably true but I'll process that after I've gotten the wheelchair.

A sigh: One thing at a time. Little steps, or limps, or wheels.

I've been working on a sketch I haven't finished, but I've been dying to do a drawing of a skull with spoons as the crossbones, referencing the Spoon Theory. In case that hasn't made it to your corner of the web yet, I've linked it.

As you see, a work in progress.
Do NOT hold your breath.


And, here, I guess, proof of the bathing.
Annoyingly, I'd dyed my hair just before The Pain came,
and I've had no chance to show off the new blue bits.

Bonus: That leather jacket in the background?
My mom's. I'm supposed to be 
mending it's buttons for my aunt.

So, my darlings, I'm off to rest more lest I push too hard and I'd subject you to more dada, surrealist, drug-induced rambling.

(I'm not completely certain there's a stylistic difference, but I'll assume it's all much better when I'm able to type with fingers un-slurred by muscle relaxants.)

Much love to you all and deep, groveling thanks to my sweet babygirl and my husband who both served me like a massively stoned, bed-ridden queen.


I was fucked up as all get-out and haven't missed a damn day.
Lemme get a w00t! w00t!

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