Twelve Twelve Twelve

Only a Once in a Century repeating date would bring me out of my self-imposed hiatus. So, in honor of the last cool date of my lifetime, 12 things going on here behind the scenes at the House of Chaos.

1. I’ve started my internal searching for a 2013 Word of the Year. 2011 was strong, 2012 was grateful. A few words have bubbled to the surface, but nothing has grabbed me by the scruff and shaken. Yet.
2. At the very tail end of October I caught the Virus of Doom. It caused no end of problems when I first caught it, and became a month-long Cough-A-Rama. And not a politely little ahem, nonono! A full body hack, from the very core of my being. I played a concert with this cough. It was oh-so-fun. This Sunday is our second concert, and I will be playing with costrocondritis, courtesy of that cough. Translation: irritation and inflammation of rib cartilage. Translation of the translation: holycraponacracker I’m in pain. The entire lower right portion of my ribcage feels like it’s on fire, and that’s just with normal breathing. After rehearsal last night I just wanted to cry, and that was with having taken a Super Duper Prescription (though not the Vicodin) Painkiller. May I get through the concert on Sunday without puke/tears/inadvertent and unfortunate coughing fit.
3. With the prescriptions I got for the pain, I now have two high-strength painkillers and two anti-depressants in my cabinet. I’m probably on some DEA watch list. I’m also trying not to think about how broken that makes me appear.
4. This week brings two new and awesome books in the gifted field. Off the Charts!, published by Royal Fireworks Press, shipped today. Friday Dr. Linda Silverman’s newest book, Giftedness 101, drops. I’m thrilled to be getting two new books in the mail this week, not so thrilled about trying to carve out the time to read them.
5. I gave a presentation last week for the Chicago Gifted Community Center, on parenting 2e kids. By all accounts, it was received well. Despite my nervousness, I survived and would consider doing something like that again.
6. Crap I hurt. And I have too much to do. I swear my body took a look at the calendar and thought, “Hey! Let’s mess her up for the entire holiday season!” Hurts to eat, breathe, sleep, play my flute, think…I’m a lot of fun to be around. Maybe I’ll switch over to the Vicodin; if nothing else I won’t give a damn.
7. Homeschooling is killing me, but noooo, I don’t dare complain. We made this bed, we have to lie (lay? sleep/crash/toss-n-turn?) in it. I’m still struggling with schooling vs education, and it’s causing no end of stress for me. I don’t know what the hell to do, and often would just like someone to come in and fix everything. I’m tired. It’s been too many years of struggle, and dammit, I’m tired of it. I just want things to be…stable. And stay that way.
8. I still haven’t decided exactly what I want this blog to be going forward. I’ve thought about creating a separate site for my personal thoughts and leaving this one for gifted/parenting/homeschooling issues, I’ve thought about keeping it as is but revamping it somehow, I’ve thought about shuttering it entirely (though this last one also has me running away from home and owning a shrimp truck on Oahu). Something is wrong under the hood; I spoke to someone the other day who thought my last post was in May. Again, I often would just like someone to come in and fix everything.
9. I got an early Christmas present last week when the additional RAM I ordered showed up. I put on my big girl rockstar undies and installed it myself. Now I can have several programs open at once and MacDreamy2 still works, even if I’ve (horror of RAM-sucking horror) opened iPhoto! It’s the little things.
10. Dear Santa, please bring me a space heater, an electric blanket, or a one-way ticket to somewhere warm. In related news, it’s only December and I’m sick of being cold. There’s only so much hot tea I can drink before I float away and/or contemplate my navel into the wee hours.
11. Anecdotal evidence indicates that A is entirely incapable of not talking to me during the day for longer than 96.215 seconds. This wrecks havoc with my concentration and is why my brain feels like old sweaty socks.
12. I have become a Debbie Downer, something I swore I’d never, ever become after watching older relatives live that way for many years (with the exception of one, who was the most cheerful, sprightliest 90+ year old I’ve ever met). It’s not who I am, not who I want to be, and God help me, I gotta find a way out of it.