Archives for April 2008

The blog shall be silent for a little while as Chez Hehu has a big ole sad. Something important was taken away from someone we love (but someone you don’t know, so we won’t go into it), and it makes us very, very sad indeed. One of those life-isn’t-fair moments, and I hate those. It’s enough that it’s true; must life remind us so often? It makes us not want to write very much. It makes us want to write with a Royal We, which we must not allow.

I’m headed south this week to take care of the little mama who’s not feeling too well lately. So I’ll be back in a week or so to say hello and perhaps show you a new sweater. Or not. I’m making it up as I go along and I’m not sure I understood how to do a neck steek. I might be knitting a pillow instead of a cardigan. We’ll see.

What’s shaking?

I’m not doing much besides writing and working. I’m working a lot, 60 hour work week, and I’ve probably put ten hours into writing already, and it’s only Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I’m confused. I’m really into a new project, and I’ve been leaving work, going home, feeding the critters and sitting down to write some more at night. It ends up giving me about twenty minutes of down time, from 8:10 to 8:30pm, but I’m finding when you’re doing what you love, that’s all right.

I’m not quite sure what’s lit this fire recently. But I’m riding the mixed-metaphor wave as far as it’ll take me.

And to amuse you, your weekly dose of animals. We bought Clara a dog bed, since she is now Without Couch. She is too timid to use it much, though. It has been taken over.

And Digit just about killed me with this the other day. He does NOT go on top of the fridge. That’s Adah’s domain. She has her bed up there, and she loves it.

Adah is nonplussed.

I’m at home, for my one day off in nine. I’m having an unofficial pajama day — it wasn’t planned like this, but now my main goal for today is DOING NOTHING I don’t want to do. Except for laundry. I’m out of uniforms, and I’ve got a long week ahead of me.

I’m still under the weather — this has been the flu that keeps on giving. The latest gift it’s brought is a really sore throat, which should be illegal for someone who’s had two tonsillectomies in six years. (I bet most people never have the opportunity or desire to pluralize tonsillectomy.)

I dreamed last night we added two giraffes to our menagerie. They were sweet and loving, and folded themselves up onto our sofas like greyhounds.

Lala’s off cycling — 70 miles today, from Concord to Sunol and back. I can’t even imagine. My butt would fall right off, I’m sure of it. So now I’m NOT going to do anything physical — I’m going to pry myself off the computer and go knit in front of the television. A peaceful day.

I can smell things! Just a little, but it IS coming back, o joy. My house does not smell unclean, I am happy to report. Feliway is working SO well.

I am tired. Worked today for the first time in two weeks following this flu from hell. Up at four in the morning, rather than waking naturally. Home by seven pm. Tried to write, couldn’t. Too stupid tonight. Instead, I had pasta that I made a few days ago (but first smelled today, and it was GOOD), and now I’m going to bed. At 8:24pm. Life in the fast lane.

A sneak preview of the sweater I’m working on now:

It’s a pattern I’m copying from a Norwegian sweater my mother had made for her in Norway in the 60s. So far so good. It’s really unnerving, though, to look down on my couch and see a disembodied sleeve lying there, a replica of the sleeves that have always been attached to the sweater that my mother has worn for the thirty-five years I’ve known her. It’s like the sweater broke.

To bed. I wish you a good night. 

I have lost my sense of smell. It’s the weirdest thing. I mean, I’ve lost some smelling ability before, when stuffed up. But right now, between stuffed up sessions, I’m completely clear and can’t smell ANYTHING.

And my superpower is my sense of smell. I can smell cigarette smoke from the car in front of me on the freeway. That is not an exaggeration. My super-nose is usually irritating. The smell of coffee actually wakes
me up from two rooms away because it’s so annoyingly strong. But now I
would like to use my powers for good and I can’t. I can’t smell perfume, even when my nose is not running. I can’t smell Tiger Balm. Things one should always be able to smell.

It will come back, right? Right? I mean, the strongest perfume I have, held to a perfectly clear nostril (thanks, Zyrtec and Flonase!), and NOTHING. It’s kind of scary.

And at the same time, I’m fighting the battle of the cat pee. I think we’re winning — the Feliway seems to be helping, and I moved things around — the couch they were peeing on (now cleaned) into the front sunporch, where Digit likes to hang out. Digit is good with the peeing and hasn’t marked the wrong spot in years. Thank god. So I don’t think he’ll be tempted to mark. But right now I can’t find where the little cats are peeing, if they are, and I’m completely let down by my broken schnozz.

I’m a little worried that this new pretty configuration of furniture in our house would not be so pretty if I could smell. It DOES smell nice, doesn’t it? (And Lala’s superpower is to make BART leave — her sense of smell is not so great for some reason, so she’s not much help there.)

But I’ll show you what I moved around.

There used to be a small sofa where the chairs are, a sofa I bought on Craigslist probably seven years ago and haven’t been able to sit on for two years because that’s where Clara liked to chew her kongs and deposit her fur and drool. No more of that.

But what’s that in the far, far right of the picture?

Oh, it’s just dead Clara. So sad.

More dead animals. (I hope other people make that joke. Otherwise I just sound creepy. They’re alive. But sleeping. If you know what I mean.)

Willie ALWAYS falls asleep like this. BONUS: Little Miss Idaho in background. New couch-cover courtesy of Target sale (also the fabulous pillow on the green chair which rings the same bell in my head).

Okay. Now I will rest. I might have done too much for a recovering Rachael today. Oh well. The other day, while still VERY sick with the flu, I made artichokes, a buttermilk pie, chocolate cupcakes, and a spicy garlic/olive pasta. I couldn’t stop talking, even when it was midnight and Lala was trying to go to sleep. Even though my throat was sore and I had coughing fits. I finally realized I’d taken Sudafed that morning, so basically I was ON SPEED ALL DAY. I hate Sudafed. But man, it makes me productive. I’ve knit two arms and part of a body of a colorwork sweater. This week. While I was sick.

I need a nap. And my sense of smell back. Please. Thanks.

ETA: and if you like cats, you should watch THIS. Really. Omigod, I just watched it again. That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Make sure you get to the yodeling part.

This flu is kicking my ass. And I’ve found a new thing I like to do: lie in bed with the computer, planning new projects. Like rejoining the CSA and freezing/canning/dehydrating the leftover veggies.

I’m pretty bad at using leftovers. This is probably not a good idea. But it’s good sick daydreaming.

Also, this just in: We have a lot of animals. Especially when they all want to sleep on you when you’re sick. It’s just so nice, UNTIL IT ISN’T.