Sunday, April 12, 2009

EGG SUNDAY AND I HAZ THREE

And I'm too tired to eat them.
I spent the day moving bluestones and believe me, I'm all blue-stoned out.
I will be so sore tomorrow I don't want to think about it.
So now I have three small garden plots instead of one long weed-infested bed.
I suppose there's something I have to do with the dry sand, like mulch or organic goodness that must be dug in before I can plant.
I'll think about it tomorrow, tomorrow is another day.

It's been a craptacular week. I have not had a nervous attack like this for twenty years. It's like the 'Clayton's heart attack', the one you only think you're having. If I was going to have one, it would have been today lugging around bluestones. Insomnia, heart beating so fast it felt like trying to jump out of my chest, nausea, dizziness and not wanting to eat. I knew I was bad but not wanting to eat.

This was a mother induced panic attack of monumental proportions. Easily fixed after I worked it out. Up the little green panic pills, place paper bag over head for hyperventilating and an hour later things were calming down. I still have the shakes but I also have chocolate eggs, I just don't feel like eating them.

I can't believe it took me a week to work out what was wrong and get back on track. I can't believe I didn't blog for a week either. I didn't even turn on the computer for three days, in fact I don't think I did anything except look at the inside of a paper bag and pop pills.

I'm feeling better now, mentally. Physically, some one has stolen all my leg muscles and replaced them with foam rubber.

25 comments:

Bwca Brownie said...

see? Easter Monday symbolises Renewal Of Life ... eggs and bunnies, and I am glad you are back in the state of Blogmania.

Consuming chocolat does raise blood pressure, so take care.

Happy Easter

Ann oDyne said...

Have you noticed that nasty comments, always come from blog-less commentors?

I am being flamed on a balcony where I usually feel comfortable, and cannot start a fight there, but really, if i said to them -

I bet you've never been married,
have a law degree (thanks Dad),
and work in a govt dept;

they would be really really upset.

they seem to think ALL women have Career Options with which to support themselves.
oops, they could be the children of Therese Rein-Rudd, silly me.
Of course I should have a million-dollar business enterprise of my own!

(thank you for listening)

Caroline said...

It always amazes me how just lifting something heavy without necessarily going very far with it, makes one breathless.

With your knees JahTeh . . can't you find some boyscout or summit to lug rocks around for you? Do they still have boyscouts? Kids these days are very mercenary, just tell 'em it'll take five minutes and you will pay them a fiver--pointing out its the best rate they are ever likely to earn. And that you only pay by the five minutes lot and its going to take 10-15 max. Just nab any mnior passing by. That's what I'd do.

Ozfemme said...

They came and took your leg muscles while you were sitting with the bag on your head?

Really, Coppy, you are amazingly industrious and I bet the garden looks enchanting.

I agree with Caroline. Guilt some local boy scouts into moving the heavy stuff if you can. Otherwise, I could send Noise over in the post?domeg

Ozfemme said...

domeg was the word verification thing.... not sure how it ended up there.

JahTeh said...

Consuming chocolat lowers my blood pressure by the mere fact that I'm not thinking of anything else except which one I'm going to eat next.

Saw the comments at the balcony and it can't be a female. Absolutely has to be a dickhead male with delusions of humanity.

Caroline, it is possible to roll square bluestones and I have developed a healthy respect for Egyptian slaves for being able to drop those stones in the right spot on a pyramid. Now all I need is a bag of concrete to cement it all together. O'Dyne will confirm that I'm crap with plants so I'm looking at plastic ones.

JahTeh said...

Bella, garden still looks crap but I'm pleased with myself for doing the job without the heart failure.
I love gardens but the work, pull a weed and three rush in to fill the gap. Ivy, when controlled, is the best plant for black thumbed gardners. That advice is given freely.

Brian Hughes said...

"So now I have three small garden plots instead of one long weed-infested bed."

Ah...so Sedgwick's gone back home then?

Kelly & Sam Pilgrim-Byrne said...

PLEASE look after yourself, JT!

Jayne said...

I could lend you Feral Beast except he'd probably dig your garden bed to Africa and have it off-limits until all artefacts were excavated within an inch of his life!

River said...

I've never suffered a panic attack, so I won't pretend to know how you feel, but I'm certainly glad you worked out what was wrong and sorted yourself out. now you need to just relax, put mother out of your mind as much as possible for at least a few hours and stop lugging stuff around the garden. Until you feel well enough to eat chocolate eggs. Then you'll know you're well again. Wear an amber pendant or bracelet if you have one and carry a chunk of amethyst in your pocket. Hold it often while taking deep calming breaths.

River said...

Oh, before I forget, for the garden beds, add cow manure and blood'n'bone, dig it in, let stand for a week before planting, then mulch as heavily as you can. Like Caroline said, get a boy scout or any wandering kid off the footpath, to do the spreading and digging bits.

River said...

Plastic plants?? Are you crazy??!!
If you want no-care stuff, go with succulents. Not cactus, they're prickly, ugh! But succulents in various forms and colours are beautiful and hardy, needing water only to establish and very occasionally in the summers. I'll email you some pictures of some of the ones we have.

R.H. said...

HAPPY EASTER to all my darlings and there are millions. Condolences to mincing bums and little dancing queens too fucked up in the head to write EASTER with a capital E! ha ha! Poor bastards. Well what would you expect -from weirdos and grouches unable to ever take part in a NORMAL relationship! ha ha ha!

JahTeh said...

Fleetwood, you are so mistaken, he is only a short weed.

Girls, I just loved your photos of Tasmania and it only took a week to download them all.

Jayne, he would be so frustrated. All I found were some earwigs and flying ants, not one artifact of interest. The sand was so lifeless I didn't even find worms.

River, manure and bloodnbone? This is right under my bedroom window and I sleep with them wide open. I dislike any succulents but one and I have three cuttings of a jade plant doing nicely.
As for the crystals, the bedroom is loaded with them, adventurine, rose quartz, amethyst and citrine. The pills are faster.

Robbert, have you seen the twitters texting madly, no-one uses capitals for anything these days. It's not the decline of religion, it's the decline of English and every other language.

Caroline said...

Only twits use twitter.*

R.H. said...

You can buy bags of compost and that's exactly what sandy soil requires. Dig it in. Worms will turn up, as they always do wnen something is rotting. You'll also need to water less often, and Miss Pavlov has a black lacy bra.

Wooh!

(Does Les know?)

Helen said...

Annie O', the comment wasn't nasty or flaming, "Jape" was only disagreeing with you. I think it's fairly reasonable to disagree with an assertion that women don't leave rich men unless the men are unfaithful. I think it's wrong too, and it goes too close to the tabloid / evpsych misogynist view that women are always after the bigger wallet.
But just on the subject of "flaming", no, it wasn't flaming, only disagreement. Genuine flaming would be disemvowelled or deleted and I always take a very hard and narrow-eyed look at any commenter who's new. (the other one is a regular on feminist blogs and definitely OK - but does not necessarily agree with everyone.)
To me this is all OK. A political blog thread is a debate, it's not the same as a personal blog. As long as people don't get ad hom or otherwise rude.

I'd always look after my regular commenters but in this case I only found firm disagreement, no flaming.

I have my disagreements with the moderation styles on blogs other than my own too, but you know, they're other people's blogs, not mine.

R.H. said...

It was only disagreement. Plainly so. But then disagreement with Annie O' ain't wise (not lately). All the same, your disemvowellment is childish. There's rare cases where I'd do it, but generally it's low, smartarse. Despicable.

JahTeh said...

Thanks for that Helen. I thought it might be one of those commenters that like to disagree just for the hell of it.

Rh, you don't even get the privilage of disemvowellment, you just get deleted, chucked out with the bath water as it were.

R.H. said...

I've been deleted once by you because the comment shocked the bloomers off you, but you've otherwise been extraordinarily tolerant. One reason for that is you're not ideologically crazy. Another is you're very sane indeed.
Getting deleted doesn't bother me, I used to think it was rude, but some of these people are fucking nutty anyway.
What does bother me is comment tampering, which includes disemvowelling, as these fools call it. I'm proud of this language, whereas they go to the trouble: smug, vindictive, crazy, of mangling something when they could just reject it.

R.H. said...

Oh well. Who cares.

Middle Child said...

ke care okay..please

JahTeh said...

Rh, I think deleting is better than the other. Never give idiots oxygen space or blog space. And I deleted you because that comment was beneath you as well as being foul.

Therese, you take care and you won't hide from us next time you're in Melbourne.

Middle Child said...

No...next time I will allow an extra day and I wouold love to catch up with you and Brownie and Caz..my little Alison (and she is little and she is fragile physically really actually does like her mum's company and I can't be on melbourne and not with her...but she needs to come too she would love you disreptubableness...I knwo she would...she's a bag lady in the making herself