Would you like some cheese with that whine?

OK.  Today's post is sour grapes.  If you want to read about happy-clappy, sunshine-filled, joyful-noise type things?  Try a different post.  Or another blogger for the day.

Might I suggest the laugh-fest that is my friend's reaction to the selling of the contents of Spelling manor?  Yeah, she's in her happy place making fun of the ridiculousness that is inherent when you have too much money and no common sense.

But, back to my whine fest.

Maybe it is post-holiday letdown, the time when your house feels so empty.  Empty of all the fun holiday decorations and all the time with family and all the anticipation.

Maybe it is because I've spent the last 48 hours feeling like some idiot stuffed cotton up my nose, followed by a fireman's hose running at full capacity and followed by a boombox that began to loop industrial-strength punk rock music into my head, just to emphasize that my cranium is splitting into thirteen parts and, anytime now, I'm either going to blow my brains out my nose or they'll come oozing out my ears.

Maybe it's because, simultaneously, the period fairy came to visit.

Maybe it's because Mike is super busy at work right now and didn't pay much attention to my sick self yesterday.

Maybe it's because my chiropractor treated me exactly the same way my Mom would have, by covering me with a blanket and smearing smelly, homeopathic stuff on my aching head to make it feel better.

Maybe it's because I really started to miss Mom and I can't believe, in one week, she'll have been gone two full years.

Maybe it's because one of our dear friends' Mothers went home to be with the Lord this week.

Who knows.  But, all this happened this week, making me feel so incredibly sad.  And, honestly?  This is not a place I like to stay for long.  So, true to form, I'm coming up with the silver lining.

Each of the boys was super sweet.  Hooman said he was praying for me, unprompted.  Nickels must have hugged me a thousand times and told me he hoped I felt better.  The Babe cracked a boiled egg for me, watched "Wheel of Fortune", and laid in bed to "take care of me".

Bob, the sweetest cat on planet Earth, has not left my side once.  He has been curled up on my right side, touching me, from the moment I came to bed.  When I cried, he managed to make himself into a "cat hat" and purred on my pillow, slung around my head.

The chiropractor's use of cold laser on my sinuses/adjustment of my neck seems to have done the trick.  My fever broke late last night and my headache has almost gone away.

I've had my good cry, thanks to hormones and the stupid TV show "Mobbed"* and I feel so much better for the experience.

The funeral is scheduled at a time that we can attend, without having to move anything on our schedule.

In years past, I would have wallowed in pity for awhile.  I would have gotten good and upset and sat down in the middle of it and refused to get up.

But, I've figured out, that doesn't hurt anybody but myself.  And, by proxy, those around me.

So, today, three-quarters-well, I'm going to march forward, thanking God that He created bodies to heal themselves and then, eventually, to be renewed and join Him in Heaven.

The period, though?  Still working on the thankfulness for that.....


*How can you NOT cry when a Grandmother is introduced to the adorable six-year-old grandson she'd never met?