Sick and Tired

That’s what I’ve been all weekend: sick and tired. Based on the number of hours I’ve spent sleeping or vegged out on the couch with a plethra of science fiction movies, it’s a good thing I did not go out of town this weekend. For one thing, I probably would have been pretty miserable and made all my friends equally miserable (not to mention also put them at risk for catching whatever it is I have this time around).

The coughing seems to have dissipated to the briefest of episodes, the deluge of sinus drainage has slowed and my throat is no longer raspy and irritated (no more sexy voice, sorry). So...the good news is that I’m better, right? This concludes my fourth time being sick this winter — it’d be five if we included the cold I had back in September.

As I was fighting illness #3, a sinus infection, my doctor shed some light on an illusion I’d been living under. I’ve been thinking all this time with RA (see previous post) that I’ve got this overly ambitious, if somewhat misguided, immune system that was constantly on the offensive against healthy tissue as well as unhealthy infections. Apparently — and this came as quite the shocker — my immune system is just too busy attacking perfectly healthy parts of my body to be bothered with keeping me safe against disease.

How much does that suck?

First of all, the fact that I had no idea this was the case — that I have a deficient immune system — makes me feel pretty stupid. Part of me feels like I should have known this but, really, how should I know my overactive immune system means I basically don’t have much of an immune system?

Secondly, I’m more than a little concerned about what this means for the future. This winter has been hard with me being sick so often — and taking so long to recover each time. I know part of it, as posted in the past, is that I really don’t take care of myself like I should. I allow myself to become stressed about things that are, quite often, not all that important to anyone but me, I don’t allow myself to rest enough (again with the stress) and, even when I do rest, I feel guilty for doing it. These are all my own short-comings and I really need to work on them.

In addition, I’m going to be looking into ways to boost my immune system (yeah — hopefully I don’t make it stronger so it can just attack the good stuff with increased vigor). My sister is a wealth of nutritional knowledge and I’m hoping she can do some research for me. I’d like to talk with my D.O. and the rheumatologist as well to see what I can do that doesn’t necessarily mean more drugs. Plus, as soon as I’m well again for a sustained length of time, I’ll go back to exercising which will also help with the stress reduction and general sense of well-being.

Tammy vs Tommy

I'm sick again (which I'm sure I'll write about in whiny detail later) so I wasn't able to go out of town with my friends this weekend. The silver lining is that, since I'm staying home anyway, I can watch my god-daughter while her parents go up north.

My god-daughter, like my own children, nieces and nephews, is of the furry and four-legged variety. On our early-morning walk I was reminded how Jodee — that’s her name — embodies the canine cliché of stopping at every fire hydrant. My neighborhood, unlike her parents' street, has an awful lot of fire hydrants so we made a lot of stops. As I waited for Jodee to do her sniffing and things associated with stopping at a fire hydrant, I had to wonder what it is that compels her to live out the doggie stereotype.

There's the argument of nurture vs nature that psychologists, parents and whoever else has an opinion like to bring up when it comes to behavior. I can't imagine that Jodee, a former show dog, spent a lot of time hanging out around fire hydrants before being fostered by her current owners. So why is she so enthralled by them now?

For whatever reason, the nature/nurture question makes me think of how parents try to allow their children to make gender-centric choices on their own rather than simply giving Tammy a doll because she's a girl and Tommy a truck because he's a boy. I had three older brothers and I played with their toys and dreamt of blowing things up just as often as I played with Barbie and planned her dream wedding. Still, I think I ended up being more of a girly-girl than not (though I don’t cry often enough and enjoy action movies and toilet humor).

Anyway, back to the hydrants. The most logical answer is that all of the other dogs in my neighborhood, for whatever reason, all like to do their business around the fire hydrants and Jodee, with her large-mustached scnauz, is simply going to the places with the most stuff to sniff and investigate. But, again, I ask what is it that drew the dogs before Jodee to the hydrant in the first place? I'm sure if I looked around online I could find some canine psychologist with an answer but I'm not that bored yet. As it is, I'm off to rent movies for my convalescence — probably ones with stuff blowing up.

Yeah...I’m a geek.

Allow me a moment, if you will, to be the geek that I am.

I’ve got an older season of Stargate: Atlantis playing in the background while I’m doing housework. As I was sorting the junk mail I became distracted by the appearance of one of my favorite supporting characters. For those of you who watch the show, it’s Chuck the technician (or Chucknician as I’ve seen him referred on GateWorld). Chuck more or less took the place of the character Peter Grogran, who was killed at the end of Season One. It’s actually the reminder of Peter’s untimely demise that prompted this post.

As sad as it is, the killing off of supporting characters is something that Stargate: Atlantis and its predecessor Stargate: SG-1 do just right. Unlike the "red shirts" (see Wikipedia for definition) who are always being sacrificed on Star Trek and it’s many offshoots, the Stargate franchise encourages you to develop a relationship with the supporting players. You may not see Chuck or Lt. Cadman or Grogan or Sgt. Bates on a regular basis, but you see them all enough to know them by sight and have a certain sense of familiarity so that when it’s time for someone to die to increase the dramatic effect, there’s actually some drama involved. As loyal as I’ve always been to Trek I can’t say I’ve ever been all that upset about any particular character’s death (not counting Spock, of course, as he’s a regular character and watching Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn always makes me cry). I’d have to say it’s the lack of development that goes into the supporting cast that makes the death of a red shirted security officer more joke than drama on Star Trek.

This post could get even nerdier — I was about to share a list of the characters I still mourn — but I’ve still got quite a bit of work to do and I wouldn’t want you to think any less of me than you probably already do.

Seriously...Look out!

All right, pedestrians, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:

You may have the right of way but that doesn’t magically mean that I’m not going to hit you.

I’m not saying that I’m out to get hapless walkers, bikers and users of other modes of non-automotive transportation. I’m just saying that if you’re not looking where you’re going, looking where I’m going and not dressed appropriately for late-night excursions (ie: something bright and reflective, perhaps), there’s a good chance we’re going to meet in an unpleasant and sort of painful way.

I’ve been hit by a car before. It’s not nearly as much fun as they make it look on TV. Actually they don’t make it look all that much fun on TV. I have no idea why certain individuals seem to want to bounce off the hood of my car but they keep trying. It’s only through my own vigilance (which is sometimes lacking, I’ll admit, as I can be easily distracted while trying to find quality rock on the radio) have I managed to avert their many attempts.

So, as I’ve asked in the previous incarnation of the WATJ, please watch where you’re going. It’s in the best interest of everyone.

Slacky McSlackerson

Hello, everyone. It’s me again. She of the inconsistent posting. It’s been several weeks since you last heard from me and I know — I just know — you’ve been lost without me.

I, myself, have been a little lost lately.

I’m not sure what the problem is. I’ve just been in this funk on and off for the past couple of weeks. There’s no reason, really, it just keeps pulling me down and I’ve had a hard time shaking it off. As a friend asked today, “What do you possibly have not going for you right now to be upset about?”

And she’s right. Totally and completely right.

I have a good job that I love (even if I’m feeling a bit of pressure from several pending and important projects at the moment). I have plenty of friends — most of whom I can call on whenever and whatever need may arise. I have a mildly dysfunctional but completely lovable family. I have three wonderful children who happen to be furry and four-legged. I have a roof over my head and a car that laughs in the face of snow drifts (it’s more of a chuckle, really, but boy do we love winter driving).

So what’s my problem?

I love the snow and, despite obvious reasons, the cold so I can’t believe I’d have the winter blahs. I will admit that the lack of regular exercise (not counting early morning shoveling) has me feeling less than pleased with myself since I keep eating like I’m going to burn the calories later. And being sick for a good chunk of the past two months hasn’t been fun, either.

I’m usually such an upbeat (though, admittedly, acerbic and sarcastic) person and I’m starting to get more than a little annoyed with the downer I’ve become. I mean, seriously, how much wallowing can one person do?

Really? That much? I guess I’m not as bad off as I thought I was. That’s something, at least. Maybe if I focus on the fact that I’m not nearly as depressed or depressing as I could be it will make me feel better.

I’ll let you know.