The Millifiori Blues

Some of my friends may have been spammed by a company named Nomorerack, with the e-mail saying it was from me. I didn't send them, I promise. What I must have done is log onto their site and said OK to logging on with my Facebook account. I never do that, because it allows them access to my Facebook friends. Many apologies for slipping up. I will do my best at never making that mistake again.

My quarry on their site was a bracelet that had millefiori glass beads with blue and pink flowers inside them. It didn't cost much and I was in love with it. Which, of course, doesn't excuse my faux pas.

In other news, I have not been out of bed yet. Maybe tomorrow. I hope.

The rest of my days and nights have been taken up with coughing up the phlegm-fest in my throat. It gets a little less disgusting every day. I'm down to ”old-man-in-trenchcoat-flashing-people-in-a-park” disgusting, but I have hope that, by tomorrow, I will be fit for polite society again.

As for spiritual growth, I've begun to understand what, exactly, I'm up against. There is a river of cynicism running through my personality that is much too deep to forge. I've gone about 25 steps back now, mostly taken in retreat from being sick. That always sets me back. And this "thing" on my back, which hurts almost constantly, isn't helping me get back on track, either.

Whine, whine, whine. Yeah, I know. Would you like some cheese with that? Yes, I would. A nice smoked Gouda would do nicely. Another bad thing about nursing homes. There's no Happy Hour.  They don't even serve wine here. 

I just made myself hungry. And, what I would give for a glass or two of sweet wine. I'd even take Boone's Farm Strawberry, my wine of choice when I went to University of Texas at Austin a long, long time ago. (I was quite the connosseur back then. In a pinch, I would gladly take a bottle of Sangria instead. Or, even better, both.)

Ah, my glory days, when I cleaned apartments as partial payment for my rent. I will never forget the bathroom of an apartment where two guys had lived for several years. I won't go into gritty details, but steel wool, as a tile-cleaning tool, was used. I probably should have used pure hydrochloric acid, instead. I would have had to wear a Hazmat suit, or a suit of armor with a gas mask, but I actually should have already been wearing one. it was that bad.

I also worked in a self-serve gas station, which had so little business I had plenty of time to study. That was cool. I got paid to study.

What does this have to do with my struggle? Practically nothing. But it does show that I'm still working on both fronts -- physical and spiritual. And it shows that, when I really want something, I'm willing to do almost anything, including scrubbing nasty bathrooms, to get it. And I want as much independence as I can get, so bring on the physical therapy. If I get a chance, I'll work my tail off. Just try me. You'll see.

Hang tough my loved ones. Keep well and always look for good things to be around the next bend in the road you're on. ❤