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I'm alive & prayer request
Mar. 13th, 2006 06:54 pmSo, anyone read the story about the day that Erestor was so sick that his fellow librarians led by Melpomaen threatened to LOCK HIM OUT OF THE LIBRARY dare he even step within sight of it? This also being the day that Glorfindel drew him a nice warm bath, refused to let him work on anything, and made him stay home another day to get better?
What? That's my story? Oops, my bad, wrong librarian...
Dual prayer requests coming at ya... I'm only on for a couple minutes before the codeine kicks in again and then I'll be in sleepy land with the dream elves... but before that...
Numero Uno - If you have a moment or two, good vibage could be used by Malinorne (apologies, there's a couple dots that go over the 'e' but I'm too sick to find the right code for that) who is right now in the hospital expecting her first little bambino (Laura, feel free to correct any and all screwed up Southron on here). Mal is not being let away to wander until the wee one makes his or her way into the world (be a kicker if it were twins, wouldn't it? blame that on the cold meds...) and if I'm calculating right that wasn't to be for another ten days or so, anyhow, please pray for the (apparently slightly impatient to make his/her way into the here and now) baby and for dear Mal, who incidentally has in the past suffered over betaing at least two of my works, and for that alone should be offered a few prayers and such.
Numero Dos - Dark Dreamer's mom is in the hospital last I heard, and she could use some prayers. I won't go over all of it, 'cause chances are, if you know who that is, you've already read it in her journal, and if not, well, her mom can still use the prayers.
In parting, I have to learn to censor myself while talking to the doctor. Problem with having a guy who has been the family doctor, well, forever (since I was three or something) is you're so comfortable with the guy, he's like family, and you just talk and let shit slip.
me: blah blah cold shitty fever blah blah... oh, and the other day I slashed my finger with a exacto knife... blah blah cold...
doc: when was your last tetanus shot?
me: cold blah... blah... er... um... *blink blink* so, I'll come back for that...
doc: roll up your sleeve, i'll do it now
me: dammit!
And, my fifteen minutes of time, as allotted by the warden, er, the husband... are up. So, back to bed with a box of kleenex, more codeine, and if I'm lucky, one of the cats will curl up on my feets again. Ah, as if on cue, Oreo is pouncing my leg and doing the 'time for a nap' dance.
I love my kitties. And no, not the codeine talking.
Bar fighting iguanas jumping over toe nibbling tangerine pies.
Okay, I think that was the codeine...
ps - I decided that, although fun, listening to ten hours of Erasure and David Lee Roth while commuting could be used in a better way. As of today, the best of Van Halen tape was tossed into the tape cubby and replaced with...
Teach Yourself Welsh
Why Welsh? Eh, why not. Have I learned anything? Why yes, yes I have.
Welsh sounds really weird when you've had codeine laced cough syrup and drive over to pick the husband up for work. People look at you weird while parked outside the local K-Mart with the volume blasting on the conversation being held in the cafe between the two welsh speakers about what they would prefer to put in their coffee. Yep, sure does, schnarfer schnarfer.
What? That's my story? Oops, my bad, wrong librarian...
Dual prayer requests coming at ya... I'm only on for a couple minutes before the codeine kicks in again and then I'll be in sleepy land with the dream elves... but before that...
Numero Uno - If you have a moment or two, good vibage could be used by Malinorne (apologies, there's a couple dots that go over the 'e' but I'm too sick to find the right code for that) who is right now in the hospital expecting her first little bambino (Laura, feel free to correct any and all screwed up Southron on here). Mal is not being let away to wander until the wee one makes his or her way into the world (be a kicker if it were twins, wouldn't it? blame that on the cold meds...) and if I'm calculating right that wasn't to be for another ten days or so, anyhow, please pray for the (apparently slightly impatient to make his/her way into the here and now) baby and for dear Mal, who incidentally has in the past suffered over betaing at least two of my works, and for that alone should be offered a few prayers and such.
Numero Dos - Dark Dreamer's mom is in the hospital last I heard, and she could use some prayers. I won't go over all of it, 'cause chances are, if you know who that is, you've already read it in her journal, and if not, well, her mom can still use the prayers.
In parting, I have to learn to censor myself while talking to the doctor. Problem with having a guy who has been the family doctor, well, forever (since I was three or something) is you're so comfortable with the guy, he's like family, and you just talk and let shit slip.
me: blah blah cold shitty fever blah blah... oh, and the other day I slashed my finger with a exacto knife... blah blah cold...
doc: when was your last tetanus shot?
me: cold blah... blah... er... um... *blink blink* so, I'll come back for that...
doc: roll up your sleeve, i'll do it now
me: dammit!
And, my fifteen minutes of time, as allotted by the warden, er, the husband... are up. So, back to bed with a box of kleenex, more codeine, and if I'm lucky, one of the cats will curl up on my feets again. Ah, as if on cue, Oreo is pouncing my leg and doing the 'time for a nap' dance.
I love my kitties. And no, not the codeine talking.
Bar fighting iguanas jumping over toe nibbling tangerine pies.
Okay, I think that was the codeine...
ps - I decided that, although fun, listening to ten hours of Erasure and David Lee Roth while commuting could be used in a better way. As of today, the best of Van Halen tape was tossed into the tape cubby and replaced with...
Teach Yourself Welsh
Why Welsh? Eh, why not. Have I learned anything? Why yes, yes I have.
Welsh sounds really weird when you've had codeine laced cough syrup and drive over to pick the husband up for work. People look at you weird while parked outside the local K-Mart with the volume blasting on the conversation being held in the cafe between the two welsh speakers about what they would prefer to put in their coffee. Yep, sure does, schnarfer schnarfer.
