Ever notice how it's the little things in life that amuse us so much? More to the point, ever notice how it's the silly little idiocies in life that amuse us more than anything else? Well, this is not as much ''the little blog that could'' as it is ''the blog that enjoys going up the down escalator in your local mall.'' Will it have anything of real importance? No, probably not. But enjoy the ride never the less!

 


Plague Monkey news update: solid foods are back in style. I'll rejoice when I stop stuffing my mouth. Granted, with my lips still healing, it all has to be bite-sized, but it's amazing how much you can still eat when you simply carve it up into tiny blocks. This must be how Legovores taste the world.

Aaaand, in the last few days, a couple of curious yet familiar blisters appeared on my hands. Ominously familiar ones. The last time I saw these, I'd been knocked flat on my ass in a similar fashion...by Hand Foot & Mouth. Suddenly a lot of the other symptoms make sense. (I was certain I've never bit my tongue in my sleep before, but hey, there's a first time for anything.) Looks like it came back for round 2, though happily my immune system seemed to perform better on the rematch. Hey, at least this time I didn't miss work from being too sick to do anything beyond sleep in a piss-poor style, so that's a plus in my books.

If there's ever a round 3, God forbid, my body had better kick that virus' ass. And offer free popcorn for the spectacle. You're all invited, but you'll have to supply your own butter.

But onto other things. Today I got to miss work for the Head Office-approved reason of renewing my St. John's Ambulance CPR course. Aside from the meeting room we were situated in being right directly behind an in-mall ice rink (and I literally mean right behind: if we looked out the windows, we could see the benches the teams sat on), which makes a nastily cold day even colder no matter how many sweaters you've got, I rather enjoyed it. I got paid to sit down and not fraternize with customers, our instructor was very enjoyable, the course material was worth learning...and I got to be pregnant.

You boggle, I see. There's a legitimate reason for this happening. At least one beyond the usual "random act of fangirl at the keyboard."

At one point, I was "volunteered" to be pregnant for a demonstration of how to assist specific types of choking victims. Hey, I was amused. It made the situation even funnier when our instructor told the woman Hiemliching me, "No, that's too high, you have to reach around him just below the nipple line."

Where else in this blog can you have other people talk about my nipples? (And not in a disparaging "put a shirt back on, you're scaring the cat" sort of way either.)

Labels: hand foot and mouth 2 (the mouthening), how to save a choking MPreg

posted by Phillip at 8:52 PM

 


The bad news about this bit of nowhere: it involves more sad and macabre details about bodily orifices (but happily they're all still above the equator, so to speak). The good news is that hopefully, as of tomorrow, it will be the last I must suffer this rather unpleasant indignity. So far, every other year I seem to get some tragedy involving my mouth and my subsequent inability to consume virtually anything. (And no, it's not because I've got my foot thoroughly lodged up there.)

Makes me eager for 2010....

But things are healing nicely, albeit slowly. Once again, the less I talk the better off I am, but naturally my retail vocation enjoys slapping me across the face for such whimsical notions. As of this evening, the wound/sore/"are you sure it's not infected?" has been reduced to a piffly size, and I barely register anything beyond mild discomfort if food or drink passes over it. The roof of my mouth has also healed over to the same results. It's just the insides of the corner of my mouth that are still, shall we say "twitchy", and I think it may yet be another day or two before I can go hog wild at a buffet table without fear of terrible pain as food passes down my gullet.

Hey, be nice. I can see you rolling your eyes there. It's been a week and a half since I've been able to eat...well, anything. The last 5-7 days I've been living off soup broth through a straw. And chocolate milk. Oh God, the chocolate milk! I am ever so grateful the grocery store had it on sale; I've downed close to 8 litres of it since Saturday. (Mel forbade me from having the last bag, since she's had...I think a small glass of it herself.)

But in all honest,y I needed that chocolate milk. And not just for the tastiness. No, in truth it helped coat the stomach and kept hunger at bay. Which worked out great, since in the last few days as my mouth as gotten better, my appetite's started to return with a vengeance.

You have to understand the tragedy of all this: this past Sunday evening, the store had it's belated We Survived Commercialmas party at the Mongolian Grill. There were six of us in attendance, and I did not, could not eat a single thing. Sure, it saved on the bill, but everyone kept mentioning how guilty they felt eating in front of me. And yet here's the scary part: at the time, my ailment was still pronounced enough that my appetite was shot dead before it could even try to breathe. I was actually able to stare at any given plate of heaping food and not feel a pang of hunger--or even a stab of jealousy over wanting to eat it myself.

Some of you who know how monstrous my appetite is are no doubt cringing in fear at this mind-boggling image.

But yes, soup is being had now. Tonight I dined of chicken noodle soup--a definite step up from chicken-flavoured broth. What will tomorrow bring? Hopefully the ability to eat a sammich. And after that...oooh, baby, I've got to make up for lost time.

So tune in next time, when you'll probably be able to hear our ignominious blogger say: "I swear, Mel, the rabbit must have escaped out of her cage in the middle of the night, opened the fridge and guzzled down that last bag of chocolate milk. Honest!"


Today's Lesson: the opening animation to Katamari Damacy still makes no sense, no matter how many times I watch it. (But damned if the King of All Cosmos isn't fabulous for it!)

Labels: desperately seeking sammiches, return of the mouth of pain

posted by Phillip at 7:53 PM