If there’s a one in a million chance of getting a weird side effect from the Covid vaccine? You know it’s going to be me.
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This is my kind of luck.
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So I got my second dose of the Pfizer vaccine Friday morning. By Friday afternoon, my arm was sore and I had a slight headache…. which was no big deal and to be expected. I went to bed at 10:00 and called it good. Until I woke up Saturday morning with body aches, sluggish fatigue, a bigger headache and an odd tenderness under my left arm. I was pretty useless all day, went to bed at 7:00pm but couldn’t sleep for the pain. By Sunday morning? I had a rock hard grapefruit in my armpit.
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Darth Kermit is an asshole.
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I admit I was a little freaked out and immediately hit the computer for some medical research. Yes, it is a possible side effect… though it’s rare and only hits 0.3% of the public. It usually lasts a week to ten days, but can be sore for up to a month.
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Ironically, I had a routine doctors appointment scheduled for today and I just got back. They told me they hadn’t seen a patient present with it yet, but they did have a male nurse with a bad case. Of course he didn’t have to worry about wearing a tight bra, so my sympathy only went so far.
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The doctor told me our lymph nodes are part of our body’s immune response system and they swell when they’re fighting infection. So the fact that mine are inflamed is actually a positive reaction to the vaccine.
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Maybe so. But I’m here to tell you, it’s not a pleasant feeling.
Facebook ads. They’re never ending and annoying and I pay them very little mind.
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Yes, I like Hint water… but don’t need to see daily videos.
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And yes, those are some sweet shades I could easily see myself rocking next summer, but they don’t need to join the other 15 pairs I never wear in my junk drawer.
While I realize these ads are targeted to me specifically based on algorithms of my search history, every once in a while they surprise me.
As this one did the other day:
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Not being in possession of a pair, I assure you I have never actively searched for ball wash.
Trust me on this.
Of course since it popped up, I had to click. For research/ blog fodder purposes only you understand.
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Don’t be whack, GIVE A SACK.
There’s an ad slogan designed to burrow deep into your frontal cortex.
And while I admit I chortled over this, I’m not chortling now. Because you know what happens when you click on a Facebook ball wash product ad?
This:
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And this:
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I am now being inundated with less than helpful product placement.
As evidenced by this product a FB friend bought for her family.
Well, you have to admit…. it’s catchy.
And I suppose techies will enjoy having a set of controls to play with while on the throne.
But what tickled me the most (while performing the due diligence blog research my readers have come to expect but neither care about nor want) was the ad campaign.
So we’ve established my husband is a collector of vast piles of junk,boatloads of crap,too much rusty old stuff, some eclectic treasure.
Lots of people know this, and think being an antique expert goes hand in hand.
They constantly give him items and want a full history, description of use, plus what it’s worth.
Problem is….. more often than not he has no frickin’ clue.
Which is when he hands it off to me.
I research, investigate, and compare so he can go back and look knowledgeable. Which leads to more people giving him more items to identify. It’s a vicious circle.
*Note to self – stop researching, investigating and comparing*
Last month he came home with two items that were beyond even my scope of reference.
Supposed Native American artifacts.
A medicine man’s turtle shell rattle…
And a warrior’s breastplate.
I admit, even I was clueless here.
His friend gave him some accompanying paperwork that was, to say the least….. a wee bit strange. It was a statement from a man named Silver Wolf who said he saw the items at an antique show 10 years ago and was then visited in his dreams by the original owner Red Hawk, who lived in the late 1700’s.
Okaaay.
A man named Ernie then purchased the rattle, and took it to a Pow Wow to “awaken it”. A red tail hawk flew overhead during the ceremony and apparently that was the spirit of the original owner.
Okaaay.
Later, a chief said the rattle had a person named Many Eyes bound inside of it and the spirit needed to be set free.
So, yeah.
How the hell do you research that?
I tried. And the closest I came was this:
Pretty damn close. (Red tailed hawk and trapped spirit not withstanding.)
As for breastplates? They’re everywhere… in hundreds of designs, made with multiple materials, some old, some new and I have no utter clue how to differentiate.
So I went to the Maine State Museum….
Where no one had a clue either.
But they gave me the name and email address of a supposed expert…. so I contacted her and sent photos.
This was her response:
Boy. I’m not the expert, At All. The breast plate looks modern to me, but don’t take my word for it! And I have never seen a rattle like that so I really can’t judge. It could be Plains, but equally, could be new. It looks dirty, as opposed to worn, which sets off alarms for me.
That said, I am NOT that versed. If you want to talk to someone who is, my ex-husband is very knowledgable.
Best of luck in your search!
And thank you for thinking of the Maine State Museum.
So after wasting more time than I thought possible on this, I was done.
I passed along what I learned to the husband to give to his friend, with the expert’s ex husband’s phone number, and called it a day.
The next morning after having breakfast with his friend? The husband came back with the items and said his friend wanted me to sell them for him.
What???
No!!
Personally… if the items are real Native American artifacts? I’d give them back to the tribe of origin, or at the very least a museum. So much Native culture has been bought and sold over the years, I felt bad even having them at our house.
And if they’re reproductions? You wouldn’t get any serious money for them so why bother.
This is what happens when your husband can’t tell his friend no.
It’s a simple process…. and one I need him to learn.
A few years ago my girlfriend infected me with the genealogy bug, and let me tell you…. once you catch it? There is no cure.
Before I knew it I was wandering dusty old libraries and searching moth eaten town halls.
Yes, I’ve even stalked a few cemetery custodians.
They’re a font of valuable information.
It’s fair to say I was obsessed for a while and spent hours, days, weeks, months way too much time climbing the old family tree.
Some lines are frustrating and dead end right away.
Other lines like my paternal grandmother’s, I traced back to the year 1134. It helps when you have someone famous… most of the work has been done for you.
River's world..... 