And why is that, amigos?  Well, I’ll tell you.  It’s been hard for me, this past week.  For one thing, I got sick over the weekend–nothing major, just this dumb cold, but that combined with my period, which started Sunday evening (aren’t you glad you know these things about me? you’re welcome) and always makes me sick anyway, combined with the monthly crazy that’s supposed to abate shortly after the monthly Monthly arrives but didn’t this time–well, it’s all been a little much.  I have really wanted to just stay in bed for the last…six days.  I should get in bed now, while the getting’s good, but the fact is that I’m lonely, so I’m going to hang out here instead.

Here is something random that is only tangentially related to the preceding paragraph:  Do any of you remember that show Mama’s Family?  The one with Vicki Lawrence and…some other people?  Anyway, what a stupid show.  No, that wasn’t why I brought it up.  It was a stupid show, but why did any of us ever watch it?  Because it was there.  That was when I was still enrolled in the Mt. Everest School of Television Watching.  But I get farther and farther away from my point.  Anyway, once on Mama’s Family Mama (Vicki Lawrence) referred to a woman’s menstrual period as “Mr. Monthly Visitor,” which I have always remembered because how weird is it to refer to anything relating to menstruating as “Mr.”?  It’s almost, like, ironic.  Which was probably how it was intended, even though I have my doubts about the wit and cleverness of the Mama’s Family writing staff.  You know, maybe I’m being unfair.  Maybe Mama’s Family was way funny than I remember it being.  But I doubt it.

Now my mind is on menstrual euphemisms.  Some people call it the Curse.  I’m rather fond of that euphemism myself, but only in an ironic, politically-incorrect way.  Oh, and also a literal way, depending on what kind of mood I’m in.  When I’m keeping track of my cycle, I write “C” on the calendar.  For “Curse.”  My mother sometimes referred to it as “a visit from Aunt Millie.”  Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean, I don’t know.  Since then I have heard other people say “a visit from Aunt Flo.”  That is, in fact, what my daughter has learned to call it; I think she learned it from a teacher or counselor at school.  I don’t like “Aunt Flo” because it’s punny in kind of a gross way.  Or a totally gross way.  Whichever.  It’s still better than saying “on the rag,” which to me is just vulgar, not to mention archaic.  I mean, who uses rags anymore?  (Note:  This is a rhetorical question.)

For some reason I’m also not crazy about saying “period”–I think because if you say it enough, it just starts to sound funny.  Semi-relevant aside:  Is there any better use of the word “period” in a rhyming situation than Julie Brown’s “The Homecoming Queen’s Got a Gun”?

Debbie, why did you do what you just did?
(Are you having a really bad period?)

Yeah, I guess I can stop talking about that now.  Or, I dunno, why bother stopping, since all the men stopped reading and vowed never to come back several paragraphs ago?  I’ll tell you why:  because I’m out of stuff to say about that.  I’m moving-on-dot-org now.

Hey, guess what–it’s my sister’s birthday!  Happy birthday, Bythelbs!  Hope you like posts about menstruation!

Anyway, I’m waiting for the anticipated monthly gloom to dissipate, and it keeps doing whatever the opposite of dissipating is–I could probably look that up, but I’m too lazy.  I’m probably just stressed out, what with Christmas and all.  Also, I have a lot of other stuff on my mind.  This afternoon I have to take Elvis to speech therapy, and then turn right around and go to Princess Zurg’s choir concert.  Tomorrow morning I have to chaperone a field trip for Mister Bubby’s class, and then turn right around and go to my aunt’s funeral.  My aunt died this week.  That’s been another thing on my mind, but I don’t really want to talk about it.  On Saturday Girlfriend has to go to a birthday party, and then we have to turn around and go to the church Christmas party.  I think I’ve blogged before about how much I dislike the church Christmas party.  Really, really hate it.  But they will serve me a free dinner there, so it would be pretty stupid not to go, considering how much I hate trying to figure out what’s for dinner.

So my aunt died on Monday.  I know I said I didn’t want to talk about it, but I changed my mind.  She was my mom’s sister.  She’d been in poor health for a long time, and she died peacefully in her sleep, so she is no longer suffering, and that’s good.  I am sad about it, for a lot of reasons.  She was favorite aunt because she was the one I knew the best.  I lived with her for a while when I was 18, after I graduated high school.  She was funny.  She was retired and every day she watched Love Boat at 10 a.m., followed by Highway to Heaven at 11 a.m.  When I wasn’t working, I liked to watch Love Boat with her.  The Love Boat reunion show aired while I was living there, and we watched that together, too, though we both agreed that it was lame without Gopher.  (My aunt didn’t say it was “lame,” exactly.  More like, “Well, Gopher’s not going to be there.  Bah!”)

After I moved out she’d still have me over for dinner sometimes.  She took me to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard on my birthday.  She complained about her cats, but she loved them.  She had kind of a dry sense of humor.  Her twin brother, who’s still alive, was always kind of goofy–or not really goofy, but more the obviously-funny one.  It was fun to watch them interact with each other, though.  Once he was over at the house and was making some comment about a ceiling fan, I think, that he’d installed for her.  “That’s a really fine ceiling fan you’ve got there,” he said.  “Someone who really knew what he was doing must have put that in there.”  And she replied with an overly dramatic, almost sarcastic, “Ohhh, yes!”  I guess you had to know her to know what was so funny about that.  It doesn’t look very funny on paper (or screen).

In recent years she had a lot of health problems, mostly with osteoporosis and her knees, etc.  She got much older, obviously, and more feeble.  But she never changed.  She got slower, but she was always comfortingly the same.  Then she got a brain tumor.  The last time I saw her, she couldn’t talk.  She wasn’t the same.  I didn’t visit her as much as I should have, as close as she was.  I really dislike myself for that.  I dislike that part of myself that always finds good excuses for not doing stuff like visiting my aged aunt on the other side of town.  Will that part of me ever change?

Well.  Seriously, happy birthday to my sister.  Hope you like posts about menstruation and death.  I suck.  Sorry about that.  I should start over and make this post less random and less tacky.  And more…good.  But I won’t because I’m tired.  (See above about sucking.)