Take me to your leader...

Greetings Earthlings. I am the Borg Queen. Okay, so I'm not but I damned well feel like I am. I currently have a bizzillion electrodes running from my head to a small box strapped to my waist. My doctor, in the usual over reacting doctor way that will probably save my life one day but when she's wrong it annoys the crap out of me, sent me to a neurologist recently because I had an incident where I woke up on the floor with no idea how I got there but with a ginormous bruise on my right arm and a nightstand where the bolt holding the knob in place had been bent to almost a 90 degree angle when I hit it.

Neurologist says? I probably fainted but hey, let's run some tests. Unfortunately for me one of those tests is a 72 hour, ambulatory eeg. So now I'm wired for action. I have to write down everything I do and what time I do it. It makes me want to make up strange things.

15:00:00 Boarded airplane
15:02:00 Plane lifted off
15:14:00 Jumped out of plane
15:15:00 hit ground

I also wonder how many times a day I could write "had sex" and still be believed. Would I have to detail each step? Hell, if I'm going to do that I'm going to charge them. I am a professional erotica/romance writer after all. I can't go giving it away.

Did you ever have a secret that you wanted really badly to tell the whole world but someone else was just a superstitious kill joy? No I can't explain further, see previous sentence.

It is spring break. Lovely, lovely spring break. You know I used to love Spring. It wasn't my favorite time of year, no that's winter. But I enjoyed being able to get out and plant flowers and trim trees and all those lovely spring time chores. I actually enjoy mulching and rocking flower beds.

Or rather, I used to. I love where I live. I fell in love with Atlanta the moment I arrived on a visit over 8 years ago. But no one warned me about the two biggest plagues of my Southern life.

First of all, the pollen. Those pines, oaks, sweet gums and birch trees all produce large amounts of pollen. So much pollen that it is called yellow snow. I'm not kidding, the stuff coats the ground, rivers and streams run yellow with the floating menace. You can write your name in it.

According to allergy specialists, pollen is measured by how many particles are in a given amount of collected air. A moderate rate of pollen is 31-60, high is 61-120. The pollen count today in the fair City of Atlanta is 1705. No, that wasn’t a typo. 1750. Everything is coated with it, if you have allergies it makes your eyes water and your skin itch. So it’s hard to enjoy being out of doors.

The second limiter is the red Georgia soil. The high clay content of the soil makes it hard to grow certain plants…well, a lot of plants. My roses seem to love it, but most everything else barely grows or doesn’t grow. We’ve seeded the backyard four times since we moved in. Those scrubby bushes? Those are 6 year old boxwoods that won’t grow any larger because of the poor soil. We’ve been told our only hope is to either rock it all and do a container garden or have it terraced and truck in fill dirt. Neither option seems viable financially or aesthetically.

Okay, I’m off to do something that will look shocking on my medical log. Maybe I’ll write down that I’m about to have a sandwich made of pre-embryonic chickens. I think there’s still some egg salad left.

Contest. Still running. Win pretty necklace. Tell me, if you discovered you perfect man was a Were creature, what type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?
Email your answer to ElyssaWrites@aol.com by April 11th.