Another Beautiful Day In Chaos

sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't…

Whistle while you breathe…


Things escalated quickly, I was more whistling than breathing.. and drove myself to the ER. These are the glamorous behind-the-scenes moments in single motherhood that nobody writes songs about.

Not being able to breathe puts the stupid shit that’s avoidable, in perspective.

They were incredibly nice and outfitted me with new prescriptions and a shiny new inhaler. My nurse was a handsome, younger man who was full of dad jokes and the sympathy I’m good at delivering, but not asking for.

N- You need a nurse! I know a non-stop patient when I see one. You need to rest, no exercise, no work, nothing. If you don’t take care of yourself this will get worse.

I have so much to do. So many tomatoes to can, dishes to wash, laundry to fold… my list is unending and unfortunately I’m short a nurse.

J- But I AM the nurse?

N- Not today my dear, and tomorrow doesn’t look good either.

J- If only you knew.

I left with my enormous bill and small bag of relief, breathing more easily and in time to pick up the Dumpling from daycare. My second trip to the grocery store was far worse since it was nearly 5 PM and the store was full of familiar faces. Being so sick makes me feel sorry for myself and twice as emotional, something I don’t need any help with. I turned the corner and ran into a least favorite.

C- Hiiiiiiiii….. how ARE you???? I’ve been reading the blog! Who is ….

J- None of your business.

I kept on walking. Fuck this small town straight up the ass, I have absolutely no time for any of it anymore.

C- Heyyyyyyy I didn’t mean to pry but I …

J- Then don’t. Have a good weekend.

This is why I shop at Safeway and gladly pay the higher prices. More money= less dicks. It’s like a glorified get-out-of-shopping-with-assholes tax.

Guess who’s waiting in the line at the pharmacy. Yep. That damn woman again.

C- Oh goodie, come stand next to me!

J- I’m really sick, you should keep your distance.

C- Oh what’s a cold between friends?

Incidentally, we are not friends and I intentionally coughed on her.

C- I have to know, is it **?

J- No.

C- OHHHH Then I know who!!! It’s **?

J- No.

C- You’re not going to tell me, even if I guess correctly, are you?

J- With all due respect, I can’t stop you from reading but I will not discuss it. It’s none of your business who it is, nor does it matter.

God bless the pharmacist who was motioning me to the cash register.

C- There’s no need to be rude.


J- What’s rude is ignoring when someone is trying to politely tell you to fuck off. Not fucking off afterwards, is rude. Continuing to bother someone who is nice enough to sugar coat it for you is REALLY FUCKING RUDE.

The people closest to me know that I bend really far, but when it’s officially too much, the gloves come off and the angry words I used to type, fall out of my mouth. I looked up to see stunned faces behind the counter, paid for my stuff and walked away.


Not a good day to ask about him. I’m finally hurt enough by the situation that I’m determined to clear cut him out of my life. Sinus and ear infections, bronchitis and a raging fever were apparently all I needed in order to take a solid look at the imbalance of the situation.

I couldn’t call him for help if my life depended on it and he would never genuinely make an effort. Inescapable truth.

Consider this a public warning though: Reading this is optional and I invite you to opt out before discussing it with me at the grocery store. Who he is, doesn’t fucking matter. Not to me and most definitely not to YOU. He’s just the latest version of the non-committal man I’m determined to convince to like me. Nothing to talk about, just something to fix.

I am so damn sick I can hardly believe it. I also can’t believe I managed to go to the store twice today and make soup twice as well. It’s no wonder it caught up with me and I’m flat on my back as a result. It’s sort of the only way I stop working, entirely.

I filled the tub when I got home and sweet talked my little Dumpling into reading her books for me while I tried to rally enough energy to make dinner. My CrossFit wracked body screamed silently as I inched into my third epsom salt bath of the day. My thighs are angry and I’m somewhat relieved about the flu saving me from another workout with my broken body. Everything hurts, internally, externally and emotionally.

This is the point to which things have to get, in order for me to learn. Sad.. yes. Unavoidable… also yes. So here’s a recipe. Same soup I made for him this morning, and again for myself this evening. I hope none of you are fighting the same germs, but I promise this will at least make you feel like you can survive it.


Whatever Soup

2 cloves of garlic & 2 shallots, diced.

2 cups of each vegetable you have. I used potatoes, mushrooms, carrots, etc….

2 cups of chicken, chopped (I used rotisserie chicken, but you can use raw if you want- just cook it and cube it first.)

3-4 quarts of chicken stock. I can my own but you can also use Better than Bouillon for the same results.

2 cups of medium cut egg noodles. 

Saute the garlic and onions in a little olive oil or butter- either are delicious. Add the chicken stock and chicken. Simmer for 5 minutes then add the veggies in order of cook time. Potatoes first, carrots… and so on. Add your noodles just after the potatoes, as they take 12-15 minutes to complete. When your potatoes are cooked until fork tender, add the softer veggies (broccoli, kale, etc) and take your soup off the heat. It freezes well if you make too much and goes a long way towards healing your poor broken body… and helps with a broken heart too. Enjoy. ♥


Categories: Agony, Food, incredicock, Recipes, Vices, Whine/Rant

2 replies

  1. Must be going around. I got it followed by my little one. Not a good week to throw a candy holiday into.

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