My Universe is a Black Hole

I'm sorry, Sparky. I was going to write for Bannin/Crim for you, but these boys just refuse to cooperate. I tell them not to boink each other, they do, the second I say I will write them they turn tail and try to tangle themselves in plot.

Also, today I am miserable. I'm blaming it on the hormones, or lack thereof. This is very positively the worst month I've had in more than a year. I can't eat for the nausea and am starving. Everything between my boobs and my knees hurts, and would like a massage. Even tea isn't helping, and tea usually solves all issues.

In conclusion: as soon as I feel up to beating those two into submission, possibly with a haddock, there will be birthday pr0nz for Sparky. This may not occur for some time, however.

I want a hug.

Shmini Atzeret and Simkhat Torah

A thing before I get into the long Jewish rant of being Jewish.

So, apparently it's not a bad period, as I discovered when I slept another four hours after having slept thirteen hours last night, then woke up and had to go throw up. I'm sick. I'm sure the cramps are period-cramps, but they're being made worse by the fact that I have a stomach bug. At least it's not the dry-throat-and-stuffed-nose kind. I'm hoping it's more of a 24 to 48 hour kind, which can be alleviated by copious amounts of honey tea and pink-abysmal.

( Dancing with Dead Cows )

And I have the etrog. A curious fact about etrog is that instead of rotting, they dessicate, and turn into hard rocklike brown thingies, which still smell nice years later. Thus, the tradition of using etrog in sock drawers: they don't rot and continue to give off loverly scent forever, so you put them somewhere they will go to use. Although my uncle once grew an etrog tree from the seeds of his etrog . . .