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zeegrindylows
26 July 2012 @ 08:59 am
Guys... I just wanted to say, I logged into livejournal today for the first time in probably over a year and I had all these messages from people asking if I was ok, asking if I was safe/healthy/alive.

Well, I feel really bad. I just one day forgot to log in and then... just... kept forgetting, I guess?

But to all of you who have asked:

I am healthy. I am almost completely recovered from the epic health ordeal that was going on last year. Most days I can forget it happened and feel totally normal. Being married to Nine is still awesome and I still consider it the best decision I've ever made with my life. We are happy and settled, continuing to try unsuccessfully to have a baby (but I'm still sure it will happen, one of these days).

I don't think this is it for me, writing-wise, but I'm not making any promises to come back and write all the time, either. We'll see. I miss HP and I miss fandom and all of the people who made it great and fun to be a writer here.

If you want to look me up on facebook or something to stay in touch, email me at zeegrindylows AT gmail.com and I'll give you my info. :)
 
 
zeegrindylows
15 July 2011 @ 10:19 am
:)  
 Happy birthday to Zee, happy birthday to Zee...

We celebrated my birthday with the premiere last night

I teared up when Fred died.

But as soon as Nagini went for Snape, I bawled. Audible tears and sniffling. And the whole pensieve bit... Alan Rickman is such a phenomenal Snape. I will never understand why they didn't do everything they could to get EVERY Snape scene from the books into the movies, just to give Alan Rickman more chances to be awesome.
 
 
zeegrindylows
27 June 2011 @ 02:21 pm
Still, it was funny, the way things went. It was funny the way that once things were finally, finally over, she remembered things she had forgotten up until then. It was funny the way that the sound of his voice could still invade her dreams.

It was funny with the sort of funniness that made her say "oh.. yes," with a sort of puzzled sadness if someone were to mention it, as though she could not be quite sure how it came to be that on one day he loved her and on another day, very like the first in all other respects, he did not.
 
 
zeegrindylows
31 May 2011 @ 08:44 am
Ahhh  
On Sunday, Nine and I acted on total impulse, jumped in the car at five in the afternoon, and drove nearly three hours to have dinner with some out of town friends.

It was glorious. I'm now in a removable cast, so I took that off and threw it in the back seat with the crutches. For three hours, I was able to forget that I can't walk and have been confined to crutches and/or a wheelchair for the past 15 weeks. We held hands and drank cokes from the gas station (a normally forbidden treat). We felt the wind in our hair and drove past trees and open fields and small towns.

We ate good food, played a board game, and then turned around and came home. I slept in the car and held his hand while he drove us back home.

I feel better than I've felt in ages.

It was 90 degrees out yesterday. We finally set up the air conditioning unit in the bedroom. Thank goodness.

Just found out that direct supervisor has jury duty all day today. Sorely tempted to skive off.
 
 
zeegrindylows
26 May 2011 @ 03:24 pm

At the round earth’s imagined corners, creep
you shriveled angel; blow the hollow horn
to rouse the world and all the dead from sleep.

The dying see the world and know it cheap.
We trip and stumble, and, with bodies torn,
at the round earth’s imagined corners creep.

What voice will come and bid us not to weep?
What lover is there now to try, forlorn,
to rouse the world and all the dead from sleep?

We are the damned, are sown for Him to reap.
We crowding, sickled souls, gray sheep unshorn,
at the round earth’s imagined corners creep.

We are the rag and bone shop’s piled heap,
awaiting, coldly, him who has been born
to rouse the world and all the dead from sleep.

Slouching into Bethlehem, we keep
appointed feasts, and watch the morn
at the round earth’s imagined corners creep
to rouse the world and all the dead from sleep.

 

Copyright me. 2007. Written on the occasion of a friend’s very unexpected suicide. I have similar feelings about infertility these days as I had about his death. I woke up one morning and something was stolen from me, and by the time I found out it was already too late.

That's right, bitches. I write poetry. I recognize this as some pretty melodramatic shit, but still. I wrote piles of the stuff before I ever thought of writing a story.

With apologies to John Donne and W.B. Yeats.
 
Spent seven hours in the emergency department two days ago with spotting, a low-grade fever, and the most excruciating pelvic pain I've ever experienced in my life. After several totally ineffectual doses of morphine, a ridiculous battery of tests, and at least four doctors, we were told that nobody has any idea what the problem is this time. The best theory is menstrual cramping. No evidence of infection. No evidence of uterine perforation. Biopsy came back free of cancer and no abnormal cells were found by the pap.

They gave me a script for percocet and sent me home. Percocet is proving slightly helpful. Vicodin took the pain from a 10 to an 8, on a scale of 1 to 10. Percocet takes it from a 10 to maybe a 7. Maybe. When I'm lucky and it's really really working and I'm not moving and I'm lying down just right.

This is day three. Maybe it really is just menstrual pain. Maybe it really is just the worst menstrual pain I've ever had in my entire life. Let's be real. It's just the worst pain I've ever had in my life, period (ha! insert cynical guffaw at that unintentional pun), and nothing is helping.

 
 
zeegrindylows
24 May 2011 @ 12:36 pm
Today is the worst day and I hate it forever.

Cue health-related ranting, againCollapse )
 
 
zeegrindylows
20 May 2011 @ 07:48 am
I had been planning to sign up for the Exchange and then was in the hospital being sick. Who would I talk to about volunteering to pinch-hit?
 
 
zeegrindylows
19 May 2011 @ 12:47 pm
Meh  
Because this is my super-secret journal for my super-secret identity, I feel ok sharing with you guys that I am fucking exhausted, I have already completed all the work that had to be completed by today, and I am going to pretend to keep working but what I am actually going to do is lie in bed, eat popsicles, and listen to Stephen Fry reading Harry Potter books on tape until Nine comes home.

RantCollapse )
 
 
zeegrindylows
17 May 2011 @ 09:02 am
Yesterday, all I wanted to do was work. Return to normalcy. Tidy the kitchen counter up for Nine before he came home. Have meetings to figure out how to catch up for the time I lost at my job.

I crashed at 8 last night and slept until 7, when Nine woke me up to give me an injection. My phone is broken, as is my alarm clock, so I had to get up then instead of going back to sleep, but today all I want to do is keep sleeping.

With a hemoglobin of 8, this is pretty reasonable. Normal starts around 11.5, so I'm still quite iron-deficient (and that's after blood transfusions). It makes sense for me to be tired. But because I work at home, everybody is assuming that I can now go right back to work and I feel sort of obligated to do so, especially after having been so perky and gung-ho about it yesterday.

Balls.
 
 
zeegrindylows
16 May 2011 @ 09:54 am
Normally people make blog posts with the above title because they’ve been lazy slackers who don’t pay attention to blogging. I've done this in the past.

But not this time. This time, I’m posting it because I almost died.
 

 
Seriously.Collapse )