Over The Pond

As some of you may know, many of my friends are spread out across the world. Some of them are over the pond. These creatures are both foreign and fabulous, a constant source of entertainment, and a link to a realm I've never been before. They will, hopefully, provide shelter and food if I ever decided to travel yonder, which I fully intend to do. I myself have ventured to Ireland, where I met a handful of delightful chaps and one lass. These were people I got to know off a little known writer website of which the name must not be spoken. 

Still, I walked away with some pretty awesome contacts, stellar advice, and a few friendships, if I dare say. In total, I've met twelve people off this writing website. Twelve! I was not raped or murdered on any of these visits or encounters, which just goes to show,  you can actually meet wonderful people on the internet. Maybe this place isn't as scary as everyone has made it out to be? 

Back in 2012, one of the blokes I was chatting with actually came to see me over here. He's a unique brand of awesome, this one. During his short stay in Vancouver, I showed him all the hot spots and even took him to the hole in the wall Mexican restaurant near Gateway Station. What can I say, he was special enough to allow him to feast on a chimichanga the size of his forearm.  

Anyhow, this evening, I got some news from this gent. He's sick. Not flu sick, either. He's legitimately ill. This bothers me for a couple reasons, the obvious being that he isn't feeling well and that sucks. Also, the distance is putting me on edge. So, I have this friendship with this guy who lives on the other side of the world and sheer kilometres, and the vast blue ocean, are preventing me from showing up at his house with chicken soup and a book on Ancient Greek Mythology. Hey, now, don't judge. We all have our likes and dislikes. Some of us get by with a little help from our Gods. Get it? In truth, he'd probably prefer Roman Mythology. And, if I really think about it, he's probably grateful I'm not showing up on his doorstop and demanding to make him feel better. I envision it as a Mary Poppins experience, but it'd probably turn into a Nurse Ratched endeavour. 

And I'm also irritated by the fact I'm worrying without results. This news upsets me because I care for this fine, young fellow. He's the three B's. Beauty, brains and ... wait, I can't think of a 'b' word for funny. So, I guess he's two B's and an F. Regardless, we are friends and I want everything to be okay. He won't see my worrying. It won't help any. Maybe it's even pointless. Still, it's there. The niggling nurturing ball of wanting to do something but not being able to. I just hate being ineffectual. 

Lastly, I am irked he might not know I care. That's the strange thing about internet friendships. Sometimes you don't know how important they are. I have people who I have met over the internet, who I have only met once, or some never, who I legitimately would do anything for. If they needed money, a place to stay, someone to dig a grave, I would give it to them, but do they know this? I doubt it. 

It doesn't matter that I am internet friends with this bloke. Or that he's on the other side of the world. He's my friend and I care. I think with all the banter and posts and teasing and white noise that message sometimes gets lost. 

Well, to clarify. I care and love. And worry. So, get better, you twakward, English bloke. 

  

Wolf Nose

Smells are driving me crazy right now. I'm under the weather, but for some reason my sense of smell is rivalling that of a wolf's. Honestly, I've never felt so nauseous and achy in my life. Yesterday, I spent the entire day on the couch, except the handful of times I took the dogs outside to do their business and switch Veronica Mars episodes. By the by, Tim Foyle's hair is hideous. What was he thinking?

Anyway, I have it in my mind to re-watch the seasons before partaking in the movie, which happened to get a limited release in Canada. Also, it isn't showing in any of the theatres on Vancouver Island. That means I will have to pack my bag and head over to the mainland for a movie. Yeah, that's not going to happen, not anytime soon. I'm hoping it will come over here sooner rather than later, but still the Sidekick hasn't seen the television program so I doubt he will go see it with me. Of the limited friends I have cultivated over here, none of them are stoked on this release. Yes, it does make me question the validity of their friendships.

But I was discussing my wolf nose. Under normal circumstances, smells can get to me. It's a sharp sense I have. My ex actually was the first to point out the wolfishness of my nose. I could smell something off from two rooms away. I'm sure he dreaded the words 'what's that smell?' because I'd then have to go and actually find the noise, which proved to be time consuming. I very rarely don't get the offending offender.

With being sick, it's making me want to puke though. And I don't even have an excessively stinky house. But there's the compost, the bathroom, which no matter how hard I scrub still seems to smell like urine, the dogs, who are disgusting animals, that I totally love, cat litter, and even this new shirt I'm wearing has a new smell stink that's causing me to wear a grimace.

It's driving me nuts. Rolling my stomach. What do I do? Plug my nose, I suppose.

Today I ventured out to get orange juice and, would you believe it, the store only had from concentrate. I was hoping for the Happy Planet Valencia Orange one. Here's the thing about this whole nauseous can't stand the smell of my home thing, I don't vomit, so I know there will be no end result. Haven't upchucked since I was twelve years old. Grade seven. And I am usually grateful for that.

Here's to a better tomorrow.

Because you care, here is a sickie selfie. 

Grateful, Grateful, Blah, Blah, Blah

It might be the fact I can't eat a bloody thing, but I am grateful for orange juice. 

You never fail me orange juice. 

Thank the Gods for you.