After a fortnight of snot, ear pain, tinnitus and generally feeling crap, I went back to the naturopath.
Naturopath, you ask? Yes.
Here is my rationale.
I went to the doctor ten days ago about this ear infection. After a round of antibiotics and I'm still not right. I'm popping nurofen daily to help reduce the face ache, the earache and the sinus pain. My eyes are weeping. There's a pain in my throat and jaw - and I'm over it. What's a doctor going to do?
My naturopath has other ideas. Rather than blitzing me with antibiotics, he's gone another route. Herbs. Which have done the trick in the past.
First up, there's the green horse pills. Something called Armaforce, which will hopefully start getting my immune system where it needs to be.
There's a herbal mix, which needs to be taken twice a day. This one doesn't taste like arse as much as other ones I've had. It's called snot-blaster. Here's hoping it works quickly.
To drink, to help soothe the throat, I'm on ginger and cinnamon tea - made by putting a cinnamon stick and some sliced ginger root in boiling water, This one I like.
Not so much fun is bathing my eyes, which are weeping and bloodshot thanks the stuck sinuses, in weak chamomile tea. I hate the stuff, but after two weeks of all of this, I'll give anything a go.
I also like that my naturopath calls me comrade. I've been seeing him for years... he's allowed.
Anyway, another early night for me. Need to go and take my horse pill and snot blaster before I go down.
I shut my work computer off at 9 p.m. This doesn't happen very often and I don't resent this - I now have a clear runway for tomorrow,
Regardless, I need to have a whinge. I try not to do this very often, and I'll keep it short. I'll put it in bullet points so I don't overcomplicate things.
<whinge>
I'm sick of snot.
I'm sick of being deaf in my left ear - it is showing signs of improving, but still.
I woke up with a sore throat and my left eye soldered shut with muck. Bloody snot.
I'm waiting for the naturopath to come back to me.
I just want to feel healthy enough to really get exercising (though I did do a good workout tonight when I took a break).
I have to start looking for another job. I've got plenty of time, but I don't feel enthused. A lot of this is due to the snot.
I need to cook, but I don't feel like cooking.
I wish my cat was cuddlier. He is thawing, but it's only taken 6 years.
I'm a bit miffed one of my book group told me about the twist in our current book group book, even though I said I was only halfway through. Ten pages later, the twist came. Oh well, no drama - this is a small miff.
I'm travelling again next weekend. Another case of I want to, but I don't want to. Two weeks in a row is a lot.
I wish the cat would eat the treats which are scattered around the lounge room.
MAFS is really shite this year. It's always shite, but it's extra shite. Like where do they find these people.
I would love a roast lamb dinner cooked for me - with lots of mint sauce.
I don't want to give up coke zero. I know I shouldn't drink caffeine, but I'm addicted again.
/<whinge>
Thanks for listening. All is well. I'm just over feeling under the weather.
Fun fact. Hoyts is currently doing $12 tickets for sessions that are on before midday on a Sunday. Result!
Especially as there are films I don't want to pay full whack for, especially if they're a bit of an unknown quantity. How to Make a Killing looked a touch dodgy, but paying to lower amount made it feel fine.
And yeah, it was fine. More than fine. As a bit of time out at an eleven 'o' clock session on a Sunday, it was great. I'd go on to say this would be a great date night movie. it's fun. It's also got Glen Powell in it - he's everywhere - and there's a reason for this - he's fun. Oh, it\s dark humour tickled my funny bone.
This is dark, but in a good, funny way, with limited sex and violence, it's really just a big shaggy dog story.
We meet Beckett Redfellow (Glen Powell) at the start of the film as he awaits his fate on death row. A priest has come to visit him to offer solace. Beckett tells him his story. See Beckett is the illegitimate son of a Redfellow daughter who was kicked out of the family for getting pregnant. Raised by his single mother, he's always told that he has a large inheritance coming his way if he lucks out. Otherwise, he should live a good life and do his best.
What's explained is that his grandfather Whitelaw Redfellow (Ed Harris) has set up an irrevocable trust, and on his death, the 28-billion-dollar fortune will go to his oldest living relative. Beckett is a way down the list, and even with his mother being excommunicated from the family, the trust has not been altered.
A young Beckett also meets Julia (Margaret Qualley) a precocious young girl who can't work out why Beckett doesn't have any money. They talk and bond, then Beckett's mother dies and he has to fend for himself.
Fast forward around 15 years, Beckett is working in a suit shop, still living in New Jersey, and the mysterious Julia, recently married and Chanel clad gets in contact - and drops a hint that his life would pick up if he started knocking off his family members to get the inheritance.
This is where the fun starts.
As much as I don't condone murdering your relatives, Beckett did this with style. They were odious cretins anyway. Raf Law (Jude Law's son - he's the spitting image), Zach Woods, Bianca Amato and Topher Grace are all dispatched with a lot of grace and humour. He was merciful towards his uncle, who gave him a job in Finance and did look after him. See, he's not all bad.
Oh, and he took up with hid dead cousin's girlfriend, Ruth (Jessica Henwick), which seemed to be working out until the mysterious Julia gets rather demanding.
I'm not going to tell you how Beckett ended up on death row. Nor am I going to say what else happens. But this is a good laugh. It's not going to win any best film awards, but it's very entertaining. Glen Powell is the most benign of leading men - good to look at, a bit goofy and he doesn't take himself too seriously.
John Patton Ford's script and direction are fine as well. As I said before, it's one big shaggy dog story told in a fun way.
I'm glad I saw this. I wouldn't begrudge paying for a full price ticket. It's fun. If your sense of humour is a bit bent and dark, even better.
I have come home from Sydney to a recalcitrant cat. Oh well. The business in Sydney went well, and I got back to the airport early enough to get an earlier flight home. The ungrateful critter is now using me for a scratching post. It seems that ensuring he's been fed is not enough for him.Oh no. I went away for a night and I am to be punished.
Blooming cats - who would have them?
Regardless, today's questions have been brought by Sunday Stealing. I'll be quick. It's been a long day.
1. It's the middle of the night. There isn't another car in sight. You're stuck at a red light that just won't change. How long do wait until you run it?
Umm, it depends on a few things:
It there a known red light camera at the intersection?
Can I back up and try run over the sensors again - I've done this in the past.
It the last point fails and there is nothing around, I'd say about two minutes. There are some intersections in East Melbourne which do my head in - backing up and running up the intersections seem to get them working again.
2. What's your favorite recipe?
My grandmother's yoyo biscuits, and I do a really cool roast pumpkin, mange tout (snow peas) lime and chilli stir fry.
3. When did you last ask yourself, "What the hell was I thinking?"
I ask myself this all the time. Normally when I find myself in one of these situations:
Stuck in a mosh pit (don't do it after you turn 30 - daft move)
Going into anywhere really noisy.
Getting on a too crowded tram instead of waiting for the next one.
Taking Punt Road at any time of day or night. (If you're in Adelaide, think of the Dequetteville Terrace roundabout, in England, the Swindon Roundabout or the North Circular)
Trying to clip my cat's toenails - that is just asking for trouble.
4. Have you ever had a mole removed? If yes, where on your body was it?
I've not had a mole removed per se, but I get cysts cut out regularly thanks to a genetic trait passed down through my mother's line where I grow sebaceous cysts in my scalp, They feel like little horns. I've got a couple that need to go. I also had a small skin cancer taken off my temple a few years back. Other than a fine scar, it's been dealt with.
5. What website do you faithfully check (other than email)?
Most mornings I go to the New York Times website just to answer the questions, "Is he dead yet?' and 'What's he done now?'
Other daily searches include:
www.reg.bom.gov.au (the old Bureau of Meteorology website)
I have so many feelings about Sydney. I shouldn’t, but I do.
Sydney to me, is a bit of a lawless place. The people are hard. The streets are difficult to navigate. It has a rundown field of it once you get out of the CBD, which only recently had some money injected into it to make it look a little bit better. Like many other big cities you can turn a corner in the atmosphere changes.
I could never live here. It’s far too humid.
Regardless, I am in Sydney. My plane was late. Not too late but late enough. My friend was waiting for me at the gate, she had just arrived from Adelaide. We’re going to the same meeting tomorrow.
She’s staying down the hall. I reckon she’s doing the same thing as me ironing a white shirt for tomorrow. Yes, we are going to look like hospitality workers. It’s okay it’s all part of the plan.
She was a bit worried about getting her masonic apron through the scanners at the airport. It wasn’t a problem. Mine didn’t set off the alarms either. It might be a bit drifting if you’re trying to get through a ceremonial sword. I wonder what the airlines think about getting those through. You definitely have to put them into the hold, if they let you take it at all.
We’ll get up in the morning, get some breakfast meet the third of our contingent and make our way to the Sydney Temple, which is set in an industrial estate in deepest , darkest Yagoona (It’s alright, I don’t know where it is either).We will do what we have to do then head back to the airport and get a plane home.
The hotel room is fine. The iron is very good even if the ironing board is tiny. I have ironed my crisp white shirt, noting that I have not worn a button down shirt for a very long time. You can thank Covid for that. My only gripe is that I cannot connect to the streaming services. Nevermind. The hotel room is spotlessly clean and the sheets are fresh, white cotton.
But, it’s 1130, and really it’s going to be a big day tomorrow so I have to have a shower and go to bed.
I can sleep away by differing feelings about Sydney.
I'm packing once again. Just an overnight trip, but I've got to make sure I've got everything I need for Saturday.
The list isn't too bad.
Travel computer and accouterments
Mason's apron
Mason's dress code wear (think waiter)
White gloves
Undies
Light change of clothes so I don't have to look like a hospo going back to the airport
Sponge bag
Charging cables
Meds
Book
Glasses / sunglasses
There will be a few other things that will get tossed in the bag before I go.
But my big habit. Packing and repacking the toiletries bag. With the travelling I do, why is it that small pocketknife always gets in there? How is it I always take two lots of eyeliner and mascara, but never a hairbrush? Why does it always take three goes to get it right?
I think I need to go to bed - I'm not feeling anything tonight.
I forgot to take my afternoon meds and I felt it. I think I should be setting myself up a reminder on the phone - I really felt not having it in me - and I craved sugar. And felt a bit all over the place.
I'm sick of my left ear ringing - I'm a bit deaf in my left ear - but it's showing some improvement.
