Gahd I love summertime

I just got back from a late dinner at a little restaurant near my house. I drove through the summer night with the windows down, savoring the sweet summer air, redolent with the smell of grass, honeysuckle, and a faint whiff of car exhaust and stale dumpster.

When I got home I realized, as I unlocked the front door, that the weather was perfect. The neighborhood is silent, which is almost miraculous for a Saturday night.

The house is a little stuffy, trying to shake off the incredibly high humidity of the last several days, so I opened the sliding glass door to the back deck to get some air.

And now, here I sit, in the light of the growlites of my half empty plant stands (most of the plants are on the deck for the summer), breathing in the summer air and listening to the crickets and tree frogs.

I love that sound. I live five minutes from downtown, and my yard echoes with all the calls and chirps and clicks of summer. And I am grateful that, at least today, I am healthy enough to notice it. Way too often I am too stressed, too busy, too sick and tired to sit for a second and savor the moment. Usually seasons zoom by without notice as I go from car to house to airport to hotel to airport to car to house, over and over again. I have got to get out more. Go out to the countryside I love so much before winter descends again.

I am not done with the book, I am as far behind as ever. But for now, for this brief moment, I managed to get fed without getting sick, I have no migraines, my heart is hardly skipping a beat, and I am just happy to realize that it is summer, the weather is perfect, and I am not living in fear. I have a place to sleep and people who care about me. I am not going to fall off the earth, and am not going to be physically hurt by anyone today. It's okay. Even if I am late with my work. Even if my editor is mad at me. I have nothing to fear as long as I can keep breathing.

And with that happy thought, I think I'll go back to editing. G'nite.

argh, my heart hurts

I am trying desperately to edit a 125 page chapter in my WSS book and I just can't stand it.

I am far, far behind. The book has fifteen chapters and I am only on chapter 5, and my heart hurts.

I don't know how much more of this heart palpitation thing I can take. Last week I accidentally ate a few bites too many of mashed potatoes. I know, I know, I can't have carbs anymore. But c'mon, I can't have bread, chips, pretzels, cereal, toast, french fries, barbeque anything, pizza, soda, lemonade, coffee, pasta, carrots, squash, ice cream, cookies, pie, hot chocolate, brownies...anything anymore. I can eat no food that has flavor, texture, joy.

So forgive me if I eat a little mashed potatoes with my steak. I can't help it, I'm irish (well, genetically anyway).

So, I ate a little too much of a starchy substance to help make my otherwise boring chunk of meat interesting. That night I had trouble sleeping. By the following day, the heart palpitations started, as well as the all over body aches, trembling, weakness, and fatigue. And the symptoms lasted for days, and days, and days.

I am supposed to be editing a book really, really quickly, remember? And instead, I am having heart palpitations that make it really hard to breathe. It hurts to type, and I am so fatigued I can't think.

Damn potatoes.

Worse yet, that all started last week. So a week of diminished productivity and suffering. The pain went away yesterday, and then I screwed up and ate some salad that had blue cheese in it (I didn't really realize the mistake before it was too late). And the dizziness and heart palpitations started again with a vengence.

Seriously, I don't think my lips are supposed to be that shade of purple.

Now I am trying to type, to edit, to think and I can't breathe. This is infuriating and agonizing. I have moved from depression to despair. If I survive this I am going to find that doctor woman at the emergency room who told me that PVCs (pre-ventricular contractions) are nothing, and slap her really hard right across the face. I mean it.

Meanwhile, I am still trying to work. The weather here is super hot and extremely humid (lotsa flooding, dangerous storms, and ozone warnings). I wemble between typing downstairs in the humidity, and typing here in the computer room where it is too dry and frigid (for the sake of the servers). In neither place am I comfortable. And never mind my trying to sleep. If I lay on my side (my standard sleeping position), my heart leaps around in my chest like a fish on a peer.

And through it all, all I can do is keep my eye on the prize. I must finish the book, I must finish the book...

... and I must never, ever, ever eat any more potatoes for as long as I shall live, amen.