Thursday, December 27, 2012

Barometer Babe (or Mutiny Of My Bounty)

It is beautiful and so
peaceful. Just as long as
I don't have to go out in it...
  Good morning! *waving hands wildly in the air* Not only have I now survived round one of Holiday cheer, I have also managed to survive the Indiana Blizzard of 2012.

  For those of you who live in places where you get REAL snow, please feel free to point and laugh. After all, does seven inches REALLY constitute a Blizzard? Apparently, in the strictest sense, yes.

  So far we still have heat, electricity, and no one’s chewed their own arm off out of hunger and desperation so I’m thinking’ we’re ahead of the game.

  As for the Holidays, I FINALLY took some of my own advice. (You can stop laughing now. I’m being serious here.) We had dinner plans with my Uncle and Aunt for the 25th, but ended up cancelling. Not because I didn’t want to see them and spend time together, but because my bod in currently in the midst of a Mutiny.

  Mutiny on the Bounty. (Mutiny of MY Bounty?) Mutiny on the High Seas. (Mutiny on the Mes?) *falls over in fit of giggles*

 
  My shoulders and wrists have spent the last week attempting to fight off the legs for sole control of my neural pain receptors. And the stomach, not wanting to feel like it was a goody-goody, decided to join in for a few laughs.

  I’m telling’ ya, if they ever get the bright idea to team up, I am DOOMED!

Why yes, I DO have some
mad phot-shoppin' skillz!
  The bad part is (besides having little to no control over half of my body’s functions) is I’ve caught myself doing the whole “cocoon” thing. You know, when you pull inside yourself and shut other people out while you focus on NOT focusing of the aches and glitches? Then, when forced to communicate it’s usually done from between clenched teeth and with a distinctly animalistic growl?

  Yeah, that.

  (Pardon me while I wax all philosophical for a moment…)
A lot of the dry, boring bits of history I’ve read talk extensively about how our ancestors lived in such close rhythms with the Seasons and Nature.

  As I was outside doing morning bird work (read as: As I was outside slipping, sliding, falling and tripping REPEATEDLY) it kinda dawned on me. When you’re sharing your skin with a Health Mutiny, you become somewhat of a throwback.
Waterfowl don't know the meaning
of the term "snow day."
Stupid birds!

  Your body is one hell-of-a living barometer and all-purpose weather gauge. Your muscles and joints? Tend to be a LOT more accurate than any weather guy. Heck-y, you develop the super powers that tell you when it’s raining three States away. (How flippin’ cool is THAT!?!)

  Maybe THAT’S what I need to pull myself out of this ouchy-funk. I can work on an outfit to hide my secret identity and become…Barometer Babe! *falls over in fit of giggles that involves extensive snorting*

  How about you guys? How accurate are your weather senses? Do you cocoon yourself and if so, how the heck do you pull out of it?

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