May 26, 2002

Today I feel grand. If only because yesterday is over. (Actually, it is a glorious day. Weatherwise, this is the place to be today.)

What the hell happened with Saturday though? The whole day was spent with Advil and thumb-twiddling as I waited for the headache and general malaise to pass. Where do these days come from? Why is there no biological early-warning system?

A friend of mine suffers from major migraines. I’m willing to bet if I call her up she’ll tell me she was in bed all day yesterday with a doozy. (I don’t get migraines, just brain stupification … meaning dull-wittedness, vertigo, headaches, and aches in a variety of joints and muscles. Oh joy! Oh bliss!)

I remember reading (somewhere) that people who suffer migraines experience fewer with high pressure systems dominating and more frequently with low pressure systems. (Lighter, drier air versus heavier, moister air.) I also had a doctor tell me once that such things like migraine or arthritic flare ups are not so much affected by the air pressure system as they are by the change from one to another. Sounds good to me. I’ll buy that. (He could have been humouring me with a load of crap though.)

Yesterday, from the air perspective, was a gymnastic tumbling affair with wind shifting direction, moist air being hustled out like a loud drunk by bouncers. A windy day; an off and on cloudy day with big fart monster clouds whisking across the sky like white caps on an ocean or lake. It was entertaining in its way but would have been more enjoyable had I not been feeling like el crapo.

Really, I wish I knew more about the cause (since I am fully versed on the effect). It was an entire day wasted. Anyway …

It was not an entire loss. By the end of the day, the wind having settled down, I felt much better and sat down to watch The Sound of Music. Normally, I’m with Voltaire on these things: “What is too stupid to be spoken is sung.” (He was speaking of opera, but they’re close cousins, musicals and operas.) But how can you not love a boyish looking Julie Andrews and the songs of Rogers and Hammerstein? It is a nice break from “Baby, baby” songs. Melodies with non-throwaway lyrics – lyrics someone actually thought about and crafted. Imagine that!

Yes, The Sound of Music has got large doses of schmaltz but sometimes, when it’s done well and not too over-the-top, schmaltz is just the thing to cap a day of being the plaything of the inscrutable heavens.

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