The Red Menace

Saturday, September 21st, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

AHHHHHH! (Excuse me for screaming at you, Dear Bloggary.) “They” say primal screams help when you are frustrated. “They” lie…at least in this case. Unfortunately, screaming does not scare rashes away – which is the cause of my frustration. The cat took off, though – she’s the epitome of the “scaredy-cat”, everything chases her off.

It’s been about two weeks since the first small batch of red bumps popped up to say hello, and I brushed them off as nothing to concern myself with, and rubbed a little lotion into them. But, the unwelcomed visitors liked it here so much that they invited all their friends over for an extended holiday, and like unwanted house guests, they are a pain…only literally. What began as a mere irritation has turned into a war of nerves. Physically and mentally. The temptation to scratch has evolved into the need to patting myself and go topless to help ease the feel of thousands of pin pricks and burning. (Sorry for the mental image, Dear Bloggary.) The relief is momentary.

After my own attempts to chase the bumpy buggers off failed, and the infiltration of the red menace expanded, I thought it was time to call in the big guns. But after a trip to the doctor, blood work, and the clinic, the war rages on. A new frontal assault  with a second cortisone cream and antihistamine pill has begun. I remain optimistic that we shall prevail. Though I have yet to figure out how this war even began, I am determined to put down my enemy before I go totally insane. (No, Dear Bloggary, that hour has not passed, I’m only slightly insane…believe it or not.)

The symptoms have eased slightly and I am hoping for a decent night’s sleep. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, fingers crossed.) I hope to awaken refreshed and ready to continue the battle, but sleep is seldom restful during times of war. (Fine, Dear Bloggary, I’ll stop with the war analogies and simply say, “I wish this bloody rash would go away before I rip my skin off!)

Yours,

Shannon

The *Itch Is Back

Tuesday, September 18th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to rip my skin off, but it’s been a while since I’ve wanted to so badly. (No, Dear Bloggary, it’s not some bizarre cult ritual.) I’m covered in rash from chin to chest, upper back to upper arms. Itch is my new middle name. (No, Dear Bloggary, there is no ‘B’ in itch.) I’m starting a new version of “The Itchy And Scratchy Show”, It has me walking around shirtless.  After a week of trying various treatments that didn’t stop the spread, I finally saw the doctor. We still haven’t figured out the cause, but a treatment has been prescribed. It makes me smell slightly like a jar of Vicks, but if it works, I’ll endure the mentholated aroma. (No, Dear Bloggary, you may not call me Vicky…and that’s ITHCHY! No ‘B’!) I suppose I’ve been a little irritable lately, but, hopefully, that will subside along with the irritation.  At least it’s not as serious as my last severe itch. Contact dermatitis is a much better diagnosis than malignant melanoma. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I had a brief stay at the Hotel Melanoma, and no, you may not call me Mel, either. You are becoming a bigger irritant than the rash.)

At least I have another day off work to walk around topless before I have to endure the extra pain of material friction. (No, Dear Bloggary, I don’t believe a rash was the reason for Kate, the Duchess of Cambridge going topless.)

I suppose I should wear a top to rehearsal tomorrow night. Although the cast is all women, the windows have no blinds, and Paparazzi are everywhere. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, that was a joke…and you may call me Kate.)

I should go now, Dear Bloggary. Hopefully, I’ll get some sleep tonight, or tomorrow I may be itchy with a ‘B’. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I meant bitchy that time.)

that time.)

Good night.

Yours,

Shannon

P*ss Off!

Tuesday, September 11th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

How do you know when someone is too drunk to function in public? (No, Dear Bloggary, I wasn’t staggering while giggling and asking people if I was walking straight…at all. It was a rhetorical question.) My answer would be, when you unzip and pee on the gate of the local garden centre in front of your wife, kids and dog. (Yes, dear Bloggary, that actually happened.) And when told that the establishment had facilities you yell f**k off, also in front of said family. I’ve always thought I was a little less than classy, but next to this sot, I’m a friggin’ Royal. (Yes, Dear Bloggay, if I were a Royal, I would introduce you to Wills and Kate…but not Harry. He’s too busy running around nude…possibly peeing on fences.)

What a day yesterday! Over 75 mm of rain on already saturated ground, flash flooding, dike breakage, evacuations, road closures, a rash on my arms… (No, Dear Bloggary, the rash has nothing to do with the flood, I just thought I’d throw that in because the itching is driving me crazy, right now.) I’m glad my family made it through with relatively little damage. (No, Dear Bloggary, through the flood, they don’t have a rash…that I’m aware of.)

On a more serious note, today is 9/11 and I’ve been remembering the terrible tragedy of eleven years ago, the families of loved ones lost, the bravery of the rescuers, and the generosity of the people in the Atlantic Provinces who housed and fed stranded airline passengers, rerouted here. I don’t want to dwell only on the horrible acts of those few delusional religious extremist and the heartbreaking result, but also on the good, brave, kind people who came together to help their fellow man. If there is one thing of which I am sure, it is that there are more good people in the world than bad. (Thanks, Dear Bloggary, you’re one of the good ones, too.)

So, Dear Bloggary, to sum up, one way or another it has been a pissy few days.

Yours,

Shannon

My Obsession

Saturday, September 8th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

Oh, the waves! The waves! Mark and I went down to Peggy’s Cove for a little jaunt. Leslie is definitely making her mark. (No, Dear Bloggary, Leslie is not the local graffiti artist, it is the latest hurricane.) It was a beautiful day, with little wind, but the ocean was extremely riled up, as Leslie continues her way north…and the colours! Turquoise, aqua, deep blue, royal blue, if it’s a shade of blue, it was there. Rocks that you could normally walk on were under water while others were smashed by the undulating sea.  I could have stayed all day watching the white foam reach for the sky. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I have an obsession. My name is Shannon, and I am a saltwater addict.) I could never live far from the ocean without becoming deeply depressed. It is my calming influence.

So, eventually we had to leave the beauty that is Peggy’s Cove, to pick Stephie up from work and go to see Mark’s 94 year old, grandmother. She  and Mark’s aunt and uncle drove the 1800Km from Ontario. Did I mention she was 94! She had surgery last December and they weren’t sure she would make it. You’d never know to look at her now. And her mind is sharp as a tack. She remembers things that I couldn’t.

Well, I had better go to bed now, Dear Bloggary, I need my sleep. They’re calling for up to 70mm of rain tomorrow and thunderstorms, so I’ll be very nervous driving to work. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I know the thunder won’t hurt me, but it makes me jump, anyway.) Sweet dreams.

Yours, Shannon

Scented Socks And Dolly Parton Wigs

Friday, September 7th.2012

Dear Bloggary:

I love fall. (No, Dear Bloggary, I love fall, not falling. My klutziness has nothing to do with it.) Autumn is my favorite season; the air, the colours, my birthday. It just makes me happy.  The air has had that crisp, cool smell to it that is invigorating.  (Yes, Dear Bloggary, crisp and cool can be smells.) And I can feel it coming. (Fine, Dear Bloggary, I can smell it coming.)

Speaking of smells, the smells of fall are much better than the smell of rum I had on my socks most of the day, yesterday. (No, Dear Bloggary, I wasn’t wearing rum scented socks, I broke another plastic bottle at work. At least this time it was just a half pint of rum, instead of a pint. They are just not making plastic caps the way they used to.) Between the broken wine bottles three weeks ago, broken case of beer a couple of weeks ago, and these two latest incidences committed by yours truly, people are going to start thinking I’m an alcoholic, as I wander around smelling like booze all the time. (No, Dear Bloggary, I don’t dab it on like perfume, it’s a consequence of cleanup and backsplash aftermath.) The boozy paper towels in the garbage can don’t help, either.

I just received notification that I’ve been offered a part in the play for which I auditioned on Tuesday! I will be playing the part of Truvy in “Steel Magnolias.” (Yes, Dear Bloggary, the part Dolly Parton played in the movie. No, Dear Bloggary, I know I don’t look like Dolly Parton. I don’t have to, I’ll be playing Truvy, not Dolly Parton…but don’t put that blond wig away just yet. Hmmm.)

Between rehearsing for “Steel Magnolias” and writing the script for the Village Follies next dinner theatre, my free time will be limited, but I’ll try to keep in touch, Dear Bloggary.

‘Till next time, good night.

Beep, Beep!

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

What a busy day! The roadrunner was at it again. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I am referring to myself, not the cartoon character.) Stephie and I high-tailed it to Lunenburg today. (No, Dear Bloggary, I don’t really have a tail, and neither does Stephanie…yes, Stephie did, if you count her pony-tail. Funny you should mention pony tails.) While there, we took an historical horse and buggy ride around the town. It was great fun, but we got a belligerent horse (Frank). Apparently, he has a crush on one of the other horses, (Charlie) and when our driver (Lisa) made him stop to have a drink, Charlie passed us, and went around the corner. When Frank started up again he wanted to follow Charlie, but Lisa wouldn’t let him. (It’s not confusing, Dear Bloggary, keep up.) So, Frank started whinnying and clomping. Lisa apologized for him, and I told her not to worry, it was just his version of stomping his feet up the stairs and screaming into a pillow for not getting his way. (No, Dear Bloggary, I never did that as a kid…much.)

After that, we went into the Fisheries Museum. My favorite part was the giant fish tanks. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t jump in…tempting as it was.)

After the two hour drive back, I had to zip into town for my cooking class. I was starving, as I had only eaten a banana all day, and the thought of those fish at the museum was making me hungry. I would even have eaten a roadrunner, or Charlie the horse. (No, Dear Bloggary, I wouldn’t eat Frank, he’s my friend, now, and friends don’t eat friends…isn’t that a rule?) But I didn’t eat, horse, or fish, or roadrunner, I ate a tofu dish, and it was delish!

Finally, I auditioned for a play; Steel Magnolias. I love the story. Having a diabetic daughter, it touches me on a personal level. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I have my fingers and toes crossed that I can be a part of this production.)

That’s all for tonight, Dear Bloggary. It’s been a long day. Goodnight.

Yours,

Shannon

Close Encounter Of The Celebrity Kind

Sunday, September 2nd, 2012

Dear Bloggary,

I had my first close encounter of the celebrity kind, today, if you don’t count local celebrities, (Some of whom are friends of mine.) or politicians…Or Lenore Zann, (who is both actress and politician) because we went to school together…Or Jonathan Torrens, who has attended two of my dinner theatre productions, but with whom I’ve never spoken. (Okay, Dear Bloggary, it wasn’t my first celebrity encounter. Sheesh. But she is the biggest.)

Anyway, as I was saying, a celebrity came through my check-out, this afternoon. I recognized her voice, and when I looked up, there was Anne Murray. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t ask her what she has against wind turbines. Although, Mark seemed to think that being at work, with a large line-up of customers was the perfect opportunity to get into a political argument.  Good thing he doesn’t work with the public.) And the first thing I thought upon seeing her wasn’t, “Hey, her song Snow Bird was the first song I learned to play on Ukulele, in elementary school” it was, “Wow, she’s a lot shorter in person…and not as young as I remember.” (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t tell her she was a little old lady, I just thought it.)

I conducted myself in a professional manner, but the look she gave me when I asked for her autograph, er, signature on her credit slip made me smirk. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t keep it to sell on Kijiji.) I’m just glad I didn’t start singing Snow Bird in front of her. That would have been embarrassing. I probably would have forgotten some of the words. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I just went through all the words in my head, and I remember every one of them. Damn! Opportunity missed.)

At least I now know that in the event of another celebrity encounter that I can guarantee that I would keep my cool. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, Johnny Depp is  exempt from that guarantee…and Hugh Jackman,…and the cast of Star Trek…and…well, I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.)

That’s it for tonight, Dear Bloggary. Pleasant dreams.

Yours,

Shannon