A Note About This Blog

I used to be a writer. Unpublished, but a writer just the same. I have several 100,000 word novels sitting on my hard drive. Then I fell off a horse and got a concussion that scrambled my brains really good (yes, I was wearing a helmet.) After that forming a written sentence was very difficult for quite some time. It's still difficult, but at least now generally the sentence structure isn't egregiously flawed. Verbally and written wrong words pop in, I switch words around, and sometimes I make no sense at all. It isn't because I don't have knowledge of grammar and punctuation, but my brain simply can't do it sometimes. Reading this blog you're accepting that there's going to be things that look like typos or make no sense. It's not because I don't proofread, it's because my damaged brain doesn't see what's wrong. I try my best, but things will slip through. I don't need them pointed out, I know they're there, but if I continued to worry about them I wouldn't write at all. I didn't for quite some time. It's painful as a past master of words to use them so badly, but fortunately the words don't seem to mind.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

cough cough

I have The Cold. The cold that has been wandering around, that I had been successfully keeping away. Until the other night when my hip hurt so badly I had to sleep on the other side, forcing me to face my husband all night who, of course, had The Cold.

We'd been getting along okay, the cold and I. It gave me a sore throat, an occasional cough and need to blow my nose. Now? Oh god. And not only do I have The Cold I did something yesterday so my neck hurts. And my hip is starting again.

I don't recommend chronic pain as a lifestyle. You throw something like a cold into it and it sucks all the more.

So here I am on the couch today, cats arranged on the back, dogs beside me. I'm having a horse movie marathon. Right now I'm watching Sylvester and will follow it with International Velvet. Because, you know, the best way to make yourself feel less crappy is to watch people doing your sport at the top level and being sad because you're not.

Actually, I'm just having envy because they're galloping through fields and don't seem to have to worry about prairie dog holes.
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