Over the weekend, we went to stormy, soggy Northampton to see our wonderful niece graduate from Smith – Gloria Steinem (herself an alum from ’56) spoke, and let’s just say she has lost none of the qualities that made her such a force throughout the last forty years: she’s still so pissed off, so utterly correct, and so distractingly pretty. You can see how she was the perfect stealth feminist of her time, and when she took to the podium, the Smithie gals gave her raucous standing O that would have put several rock shows to shame.
We’re preparing ourselves for the biggest get-together we’ve had since our wedding, and as usual, the farm is not always cooperating. The wifi internet just clicked to life today after five months of dormancy, and there’s cute mice living in my socks.
Worst of all, Tessa came down with a violent nausea that is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She must have gotten it from some outside source, because the rest of us are fine, but I have never seen that kind of dry heave misery in my life. Damn near ten hours of it, and my beloved antiemetics didn’t even offer relief. And no, she’s not pregnant.
I’ve said it before, but nausea is nature’s dealbreaker. It is the sucker punch; the broken nose, the torn ACL, the brick to the small of the back that renders the sufferer hopeless, hapless and helpless. I understand that we need misery to contemplate ecstasy, but why does nausea have to be so unbearable? Couldn’t we just experience something a little more toned-down?
Today’s CODE WORD: what is the exact circumstance of your latest utter, debilitating physical misery? No bruises or bumps, I mean stone cold non-functioning hell. Use lots of juicy adjectives!