hiatus, comfort, and clarity.

So it seems I took a day or two away from le blog. As you may or may not know it was entirely due to wallowing in my own self pity that I have indeed had a nasty blast of strep throat. Ew, ew, ew, least favorite malady aside from food poisoning, which, (please baby jesus) I hope i never ever get again.

In the last 48 hours I haven't done much of anything overly exciting to write about, besides spending an incredible amount of time sleeping and moping about like a sick kitten without warm milk. I took a leisurely walk in fresh snow to get soup (my staple food for the last week, and potentially something I will be swearing off after this passes) which was indeed, the highlight of my weekend.

In other news that may be important only to me and a handful of others, my beloved canucks beat the boston bruins in their first battle of the season. If you don't know how vital this is to a true blue fan, well then, dont worry about it, its not like its gonna save the world. Best/worst thing about that last sentence however, is I slept through the whole game and still haven't seen it with my own two eyes. I clocked a staggering 20 hours of shut eye on friday-night-saturday-day. Waking up to a world where my boys beat boston, well, it almost brings a tear to this die hards eye.

The thing I have found strangest of this last week with my ultra destructive strep nemisis has been my undying craving for sugar. Insofar as to send me packing through the snow with the ruse to get soup and other nutritionally sound items, but really it was to acquire a dr. pepper and some "fat free" skim milk ice cream to soothe the sandpaper party going on in the otherwise soft tissue of my throat. All the while I'm thinking, maybe my body got sick because its afraid of getting in shape? Is that possible? Can that even happen?

As a good friend pointed out today when I was facebook whining about my illness misfortune, and personifying this sickness into an orc I could physically slay; positive thoughts become things, thoughts are things, so watch where you point the proverbial sword. So, this week I will become well with the aid on antibiotics and smiles and rainbows and all that other shit that makes us think posi. I will take walks outdoors and maybe hit a treadmill somewhere too, because brief setback and illness aside, i am so ready for this physical challenge I can hear my muscles pre partying when I go to sleep at night. My body wants to go, fight, win, and my mind wants to as well. At least the two aren't at odds with one another, and the dark "you are fat, you cant do this, you wont change" thoughts that circle the drain are, for the most part, down it.

Tomorrow depending on how I feel when I return from waiting in walk in clinic hell, I will decide whether or not working is a good idea (I am one of those horribly lucky folks that enjoys her work and its not just due to the terribly witty hot boss I have (more on that later) without actually identifying said person, other than he is a boy, with really pretty eyes and is almost as funny as me.) I always want to work, but due to the fact that it is a position where what I do is talk, it may be against my better judgment. Like with most things in my life I tend to push myself so far that its often beyond the brink of what is physically possible and I end up coughing up blood on the weekend like Val Kilmer in Tombstone (watch it if you haven't, great film)

 I'm excited to get an estimate from the doctor of when I can get sweating, and that will potentially be the perceived highlight of my upcoming week, even though (universe if you are listening) I'm open to all sorts of awesome. At least my newest art acquisition is healing well, even though itchy as eff, as pictured above, look forward to some tattoo themed rants from me too, its true, once you pop, you cant stop.