May the pours be with you

I spent the last week doing what a lot of people around here have been enjoying lately – having an extended and unplanned out-of-body experience.

Nope, we aren’t new age freaks, we’re just in the epi-center of an epidemic of flu, strep throat, or a mutant form of viral cold, and any combination thereof.

I, thank the Dude, fell into the latter category so I could move around and stuff but I couldn’t feel myself doing it.

Except for the water boarding, which I’ll get to later.  I could feel that.

Ever-thankful I have so far escaped the flu (knock on all wood, forever), this thing I’ve had carries it’s own set of rituals.

First, sleep. So much sleep. For a few days, I was averaging about 14 hours of relative unconciousness.

Second, self-inflicted water boarding which is the antithesis of sleep, but necessary in exorcizing  the demons. Each day I would do this to myself by way of something you can legally purchase at a drug store called a Neti Pot.

I call it a snot genie, but whatever.

It flushes out anything within a 6-inch radius of your nose that may be harboring snot, but not before it takes you on an epic journey right up to the brink of death by self-drowning.

Seriously, you haven’t lived until you watched yourself do this in a bathroom mirror, my only survival technique was to pant like a dog. Again, this was the only time last week I was consciously in my body and it isn’t a pleasant memory.

Third, I poured. A lot.

I poured saline water into the snot genie, then into my face.

I poured cough medicine with codeine down my throat.

I poured a few cups of NyQuil and learned to love it.

I poured a shot of Crown. Maybe more, who was counting?

Each time I poured, I quickly toasted to the quick return of health to all the people with the flu and strep, and for those who have avoided it,  because I knew if I didn’t hurry I would soon be unconscious.

But if you do get this stuff, may the pours be with you.

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Anger expressed in haiku

I’ve missed you guys the past two weeks.

To be honest, I’ve missed myself and everything else I deal with when I am conscious.

It wasn’t bad enough that I had my first-ever bout with the flu, combined with my umpteenth time to have strep throat.

Oh, it was bad, but more havoc would be wreaked when something resembling a stomach virus entered stage left about day three of the original crisis.

It was the only time I cried. I was mostly a brave girl.

But my fingers hurt, and my eyes didn’t work and my legs shook like a newborn baby foal when I walked. It was pathetic for a couple days, and what I call “the trifecta of suckage.”

It was so bad, I have already booked my flu shot for next year.

Then, as a final blow, the universe gave me the proverbial finger Sunday with Daylight Savings Time (DST).

I have found precisely two Facebook friends who think it’s the most amazing thing since Nutella – or maybe it’s the other way around, I’m still sleepy. Other than that, most everyone agrees with me that stealing an hour of valuable sleep time should be a prosecutable offense.

That’s truly how I feel. And, for the first week after DST, I remind everyone who mentions it what the time would be if it were on Saturday, instead of after 2 a.m. on Sunday.

And, if you’re honest, you or someone around you as late as yesterday said a variation of “I am still messed up with this time change.”

I’ve heard it several times, a couple of them from someone other than me.

I feel so strongly about this that I wrote a poem Monday morning – I do this sometimes as a way to cope with my sleepy emotions – about my thoughts on DST and posted it on Facebook with a picture of my cup of coffee. I’m artsy like that.

The poem was:



And I meant it.

One of my longest time friends, Kent, pointed out to me that my poem was an odd haiku, with only three syllables instead of the customary 17.

I told him three syllables was all I had and  more would be forthcoming as soon as I located the stolen hour.*

Later that day, Kent wrote me a haiku that was amazing, and posted it on my Facebook wall.

It went like this:

Unsettled by the

Delayed dawn, Kari reached for

Coffee, which helped, some

After that, several of my friends joined in for a “Haiku slam” party about DST, and much finger snapping and laughter ensued.

These are the kinds of friends I have: smart, funny and great with words. So I leave you with their thoughts on Daylight Savings Time, because it’s time for my nap.

Coffee. Beverage?

Nay. In truth, a life force

Only fools abstain.

                                    -Alisa in California

Daylight savings time


Need I say more? No.

                                – also Alisa

Like a silent thief

My hour is stolen from me

Never to return

                               – Kelly in Texas

I take mine with,

Lots of creamer,

Makes me sweeter, never meaner

                               -Darla in Texas

Dawn creeps slowly, she

Feels lowly and bereft, ‘till

Coffee, coffee, more coffee

                            -Kent from Arkansas, again

And, although she later corrected herself to say she believed it was Shakespeare and not a haiku, Darla also offered this winner:

Til a hot flash comes a lurkin’,

Seems my own percolator is Perkin’.

Laughter, and friends, are the best medicine. And, haikus are pretty nice, too.

*The stolen hour has yet to be located.

Send me your best haiku about Daylight Savings Time, and I’ll update this post and give you credit……

**** NEW STUFF! March 16, 2017 2:13 p.m.

More haikus are being added daily until morale improves. Thank you to you guys for your beautiful and thoughtful support!

Clocks spring forward.
Means I rise earlier.
But Coffee comes sooner.                            

                       -Michael in Colorado

cat claw plucks
my scalp to be fed ~
lost time sucks

                    – Amy in Illinois

Took an hour away,
It will take months to recover,
Then the hour returns.

               – Carol

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