Lord Andrei's Blog

Tossed and turned all night. Wearing a damp washcloth. Still have horrendous aches in the lower back and right leg. Woke up at 5:45 am, just short of 6 hrs after I’d taken my last shot of NyQuil. Coughing jars the body causing the aches to flare.

I want to think I’m turning the corner here, but much like weather patterns over Pittsburgh; it feels like the it’s centered over me and is rotating slowly before moving on.

Glarng

I have aches in muscles that I didn’t even know I had.

I wish the meds were helping.

Pbbbbt.

They say pride is a 4 letter word. Granted, I’ve learned not to trust the accursed, “They” when anything issues forth from, “Them”

I am sick. I have managed to pick up a small ounce of some wandering creeping crud. This one is manifest with the requisite: dizziness, lack of energy, scratch throat that enables me to make very fake sounding coughs, and a general lack of focus prohibiting me from accomplishing anything of value.

So, I’m writing a journal entry!

I don’t like being laid up. I enjoy my sloth to come naturally of my own creation. When you’re actually a victim of a full-on, bona-fide, crud attack… all of a sudden you’re allowed to slack.

What this reduces down to is a lack of desire to be dependent on others. Now, please note an interjection (beside, ugh, cough cough)… I like including disclaimers a lot. (Even when I misspell “alot” sic)

Right.. where was I? Oh yes. sic… err sick.

My state of mind of course allows me to ramble moreso than my typically disjointed writing.

Pbbbt.

I feel like crud.

I was going somewhere with all of this, but when your wonderful shimmeringjemmy balls up in your lap and starts rubbing your achy shoulder and neck while typing. (That would be me typing, not her) you get distracted.

Which returning to the lack of focus makes for an excessively disjointed post.

So… No deep philosophical theories. No organizational rants about … well, no. No organizational rants. No explanations for my rather spotty posting over the last week. maybe one evil look at the cat as she contemplates spraying the area we just told her not to spray.

All these questions and more may be answered when the missing half of my brain dislodges itself from my sinuses and throat.

Did I mention… Kaff… Kaff. (Yeah, they really sound that fake when I cough)

See.

So, a few nights back I had the opportunity to do some work with some friends. A couple of us in the group really like Port so that was the drink of choice. Personally, I love Port.

Another friend brought over Havarti cheese.

Now, I am violently lactose intolerant. I used to term it lactose incompetent. The former meaning you couldn’t stand something; the latter meaning you couldn’t do something basic like other people, like in my case… process it.

However, over the last few years I’ve transitioned from incompetent into full on intolerance. Now the strong smell of cheese will make me queasy.

But back to the Havarti. See, some cheeses are made from goat’s milk. One example of this is Feta. Actually, most Greek and Mediteranian cheeses are this way. Goat’s milk based cheeses don’t have the lactose sugar in it. My body doesn’t have the enzymes to break down the lactose sugars. Effectively, I get a milk product and it spoils in my stomach. Goat milk based product? No problem.

Once again to the Havarti. Well, I’d had one more glass of port that I typically would in an evening and was feeling…well, happy. I noticed the cheese was Havarti and I was very… VERY happy. I used to love, strike that… ADORE cheese. Not anymore. So I sliced off a wedge. Heavenly. Okay..maybe too heavenly. The Port helped it taste that much better. I had about 3 healthy slices.

Did I mention my spiderman-like cheese sense. See if a cheese has lactose, the smell is repugnant. Well, most of the times. Sometimes I build up a small stock of enzymes. They aren’t really enough to do much but they make the suffering a little less annoying. When the enzymes build up, lactose cheese isn’t quite so horrifying. Lots of Havarti. Yum.

So… later, we go do some temple work. This usually involves sitting in a nice, quiet temple like room while people recite poetry or some such. Towards the end my body got…weird. REALLY weird.
And now some TMI…