2513 Blood, A fire dream

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Mike Meyers: "My theory is that all of Scottish cuisine is based on a dare."

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Another blood test this morning. I forget what they're checking this time, either sugar or thyroid. Whichever, there's another scheduled in two months for the other.

Last month it hurt so bad. It took three or four attempts in the doctor's office before they gave up and sent me to the hospital lab. I was left with a huge nasty bruise. But last time I'd had an interesting morning with The Man, and then drove a bit over an hour straight to the doctor's office.

This morning I had slept alone, and I drank three 12-oz glasses of water before going in. The nurse was able to get a flow on the first try (but it still hurt a LOT). I think I'm going to have a huge bruise again, because the vein she used, which is usually a fine blue line, now has a blue lump in it, about 1/2 wide and an inch long. I think it's leaking, even though I did press on it for a long time.

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Last night the attic fan was still running at midnight. I walked from the den to the kitchen through the living room, and was struck by a strong odor of wood smoke. I checked outside - many of my neighbors have woodstoves, and often burn brush in their yards - but there was no smoke odor outside. It was definitely in a strip from the living room to the hall.

I checked the basement, but the only place I could smell woodsmoke was that strip. I figured that the attic fan, which was still running, must have pulled air down the chimney and through the fireplace, through the living room into the hall, and up out the attic. But why now? Why haven't I smelled it before? I went to bed nervous.

And then I dreamed all night about a house with fire. Not this house. It was a house with lots of large windows, and lots of Christmas trees. (Christmas trees? Me? I don't do Christmas trees.) A big tree in every room and small tabletop trees scattered all over. The first fire was in the fireplace. It started by itself with no wood, and then spread outside the fireplace, and then died down. Then a large Christmas tree burst into flame, all over, like in a satanic movie. When it died down, another little tree flashed, and so on, one tree after another. The fire department came, and didn't know what to think of it. All these fires, all over, staring with a flash and then "turning off" with no damage. I was rather calm about it all. Annoyed, but not frightened. I remember turning to Daughter and saying, "I always liked this house. Too bad we moved away. I like all the windows." (The house in the dream was not one I'd ever lived in.)

Strange. It might even be reflecting my feelings about The Man right now.

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When Daughter was younger, I always corrected her pronunciation. It's my theory that if you can't pronounce it, you can't spell it. Like "ath-el-etics", or "li-berry". The same theory works for phrases.

My latest gripe is people who write "one in the same", or "in this day in age".

Snarl.
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