A Beautiful View, or Snot

The last couple days I’ve been recovering from a sinus infection. I’m a wet dream for most health insurance companies because this is the only occasion for which I drag myself to a medical professional, and I’ve got it down to once a year. Financially, it’s the worst return on investment ever, but it’s not like I’m upset that I’m healthy. It would be nice if premiums were calculated on a sliding scale, but that would be asking too much of an industry built on fear. Reward people for a positive outcome? Not on your life policy!

Right now I don’t have health insurance though, so I made up my mind to beat it without antibiotics this time, and I am. I’m taking Echinacea/Goldenseal every four hours, and enough Emergen-C to make peeing my new hobby. For all those readers with stock in Kimberly-Clark Worldwide (they make Kleenex), you’re welcome for increased profits this quarter.

I remember a long time ago my mother told me sinus infections were “inner crying,” or tears that we’re not shedding. Makes sense, especially during the Water Faucet Phase when I have to walk around with Kleenex stuffed up my nose just so I don’t drip on the carpet. So attractive. If I ever wondered why I’m still single, that might be a clue right there.

I believe Mom learned the inner crying thing from a Louise Hay book. I don’t like to focus on the negative, but when this particular malady hits me, I stop to think about what I’m not crying about that maybe I should be. Well small wonder this time around: there’s been just a little stress in the last couple months with moving cross-country, the financial strain of increased living expenses, family pressure regarding my daughter, and I really miss being in my relationship. Add to that a small misunderstanding between myself, my ex, and his new girlfriend and I can see why it’s raining inside my head.

Oddly (or not), I was trolling through a message board tonight and came across a link to the Louise Hay video below. It took me three hours to watch it because every five minutes I had to hit pause and email the link to someone I was reminded of by what was being said, or to write things down that I wanted to remember. None of it was wisdom I hadn’t heard before, but over time you forget what you’ve learned and it’s always good to bring that info back to the front of your consciousness.

If you’ve got an hour and a half to spare (unless you’re like me, and will have to hit pause several hundred times), this is well worth the view.

Speaking of views, I went to dinner tonight with a new acquaintance and we continued our conversation in a stroll down the beach afterwards. I’ve never been down there after dark because a) generally on the East coast it’s a no-no to be on the beach after the sun goes down, and b) wandering around alone in an unfamiliar place that could be potentially deserted and/or dangerous did not seem like a good idea. I’m crazy, not stupid. (For the record, it wasn’t deserted or dangerous. Must be why they call it Moonlight Beach – duh.)

If you and I were communicating through something other than two-dimensional words right now, you would be hearing those little gasps of unbelieveability people make when they are grasping for a description that is beyond language, while my hands made flailing motions to indicate the futility of speech.

Crescent moon glowing in a clear night sky… sea of stars reflected in a vast expanse of deep blue… the pulsing rhythm of waves rolling onto the sand… BAH. None of it can recreate the image that was before my eyes. I’ve seen some pretty awe-inspiring nature-rific panoramas in my travels, but WOW. All I can say is run – do not walk – to your nearest Pacific Ocean after sunset. Hollywood can’t come close to this kind of scene.