As a disclaimer to the rest of this post, know that I'm very grateful for the amazing home that I live in. We have the best landlords in the world, and I love their children. This post is just a reaction to having been sick for over a week now and not getting much sleep last night. That being said, I will continue.
I believe I have elephants living above me. Young elephants, but elephants none the less. As I've moved throughout my house this week trying to find a quiet spot to take a nap, I've realized that there are none. Because, you see these are talented elephants. They can be everywhere at once, and in fact I'm sure to their sweet mom it seems like they are.
Heaven bless those sweet elephants and help me find my ear plugs.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Sounds you can't control
Today I am at home yet again. I had to go to work yesterday, and that was almost sheer torture. Luckily, I have absolutely wonderful co-workers who were able to do the things that I couldn't. I consider the people I work with some of the tender mercies in my life. Without them and the rugrats, the job would be no fun.
Last night just to add some fun to an already difficult day, we went out to eat with some friends. Again a tender mercy, they were seated right before we got there so I didn't have to stand up and wait with the hordes. I don't think I would have made it. We always have such an extremely good time with our friends and last night was no exception. I did eat way too much, though, which brought lots of grimacing into my life.
The excitement of yesterday was too much for my poor weighted lungs, and so I am at home on our big blue couch again. At times I wonder at my state of mind when we picked out this color of couch. We have so much blue furniture! "I'm bluuuuuuue...."
So as I was sitting here on our big blue couch watching the end of "Ground Hog's Day", I started to hear this noise on the other side of the door that separates our apartment from the rest of the house. Our neighbor's playroom is on the other side of the door. No one was home, and yet I heard a toy. It kept trying to go and go. Trying to get its message out to the world. Finally it finished, but then a few minutes later it started again. So periodically I hear this toy on the other side of the door proclaiming how much fun we will have together. I'm not sure how many toys they have that make noises, but this has happened a couple of times since we've lived here. One time it was a toy cell phone that was out in the sandbox when we got home late one night. Luckily that one we couldn't hear once we got inside.
I'm sure you'll be surprised when I state that I'm excited to get into my own home with nice thick walls. And then when our friends give our imaginary kids noisy toys, I will be able to quietly remove the batteries or at least not replace them when they wear out and act like that was the way they were supposed to be. I learned from the best, my very, very wise mother.
I remember once my sister got a "magic" wand from someone for a birthday present that sang the same song over and over and over again. I don't think the wand made it a week before Mom set some parameters for the use of the wand. I believe once a week was mentioned.
Who invented noisy toys any way? I don't even mean drum sets. I'm talking about the toys that have some sort of recorded voice or song that plays over and over and over.....
Last night just to add some fun to an already difficult day, we went out to eat with some friends. Again a tender mercy, they were seated right before we got there so I didn't have to stand up and wait with the hordes. I don't think I would have made it. We always have such an extremely good time with our friends and last night was no exception. I did eat way too much, though, which brought lots of grimacing into my life.
The excitement of yesterday was too much for my poor weighted lungs, and so I am at home on our big blue couch again. At times I wonder at my state of mind when we picked out this color of couch. We have so much blue furniture! "I'm bluuuuuuue...."
So as I was sitting here on our big blue couch watching the end of "Ground Hog's Day", I started to hear this noise on the other side of the door that separates our apartment from the rest of the house. Our neighbor's playroom is on the other side of the door. No one was home, and yet I heard a toy. It kept trying to go and go. Trying to get its message out to the world. Finally it finished, but then a few minutes later it started again. So periodically I hear this toy on the other side of the door proclaiming how much fun we will have together. I'm not sure how many toys they have that make noises, but this has happened a couple of times since we've lived here. One time it was a toy cell phone that was out in the sandbox when we got home late one night. Luckily that one we couldn't hear once we got inside.
I'm sure you'll be surprised when I state that I'm excited to get into my own home with nice thick walls. And then when our friends give our imaginary kids noisy toys, I will be able to quietly remove the batteries or at least not replace them when they wear out and act like that was the way they were supposed to be. I learned from the best, my very, very wise mother.
I remember once my sister got a "magic" wand from someone for a birthday present that sang the same song over and over and over again. I don't think the wand made it a week before Mom set some parameters for the use of the wand. I believe once a week was mentioned.
Who invented noisy toys any way? I don't even mean drum sets. I'm talking about the toys that have some sort of recorded voice or song that plays over and over and over.....
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
As long as the doctor doesn't say...
I spent the last half of the workweek and the weekend trying to convince myself that I was going to be o.k. with going to a conference (in a city I don't like) for work for the first half of this week. My reasons for not wanting to go? Most people I know were excited for me. Not me. Three things I really don't like combined into one trip: 1. Conferences mean lots of people. As the few people who read my blog know, I hate crowds of people. Nothing, almost nothing, else makes me so uncomfortable as fast as crowds. And I don't mean chicken pox in your mouth uncomfortable. Worse. Put me a crowd and I will either find the fastest way out or start to plan an immediate move to the lonely reaches of Alaska or the Northern Territories. I think with fondness of Antarctica. 2. It's in a particular city that I don't like. 3. Strangers. You might think that should go along with the crowd thing, but it doesn't. I have a hard time facing even one person I don't know. Especially in a place that I'm not comfortable in.
But for work, you have to do many things you don't want to. (Which is a thing I'm still trying to convince myself of.) So my boss and I looked up some good restaurants we would eat at, I made myself a new journal, came up with a bunch of things to bring that could be my security blanket (a sort of 'will travel' comfort zone), found things to turn my new journal into an art project, and marked a lot of my favorite comfort bringing and courage giving scriptures. By Saturday night I had almost convinced myself to stop looking forward with dread to this Monday.
Sunday morning I woke up aching on every inch of my skin. I will admit that earlier in the week I had kind of hoped that my minor runny nose would turn into something bad enough for me not to go, but I wasn't truly serious. Who wants an illness that's bad enough to keep you from going to a conference that's already been paid for? Back to Sunday morning. The dude had been sick since Friday, so I of course blamed him for getting me sick. Both of us had fevers and a cough That's when I realized that my chest was on fire. No not literally, but it sure felt like someone had lit a forge in my lungs. When even getting dressed hurt enough to cause me to whimper in pain I finally gave in to the dude's suggestion that we may have to miss church.
I texted my boss telling her I was sick so we could prepare for the possibility of me not going to the conference. I felt worse and worse as the day passed. As I was talking to my mom and told her how I was feeling she said, "It sounds like you have pneumonia." I laughed in spite of the coughing. "Mom, I've just felt like this for a day. I don't have pneumonia! I just have some dumb cold. I'll feel better in the morning." Not giving up she continued, "You should go see a doctor."
Me scoffing again, "Mom, I'm not going to the doctor. They'll probably tell me that nothing is wrong but a cold."
When the forge in my lungs turned into a raging forest fire that night, the dude told me that if I felt like that the next morning I needed to go to the doctor. As I could barely breathe I just nodded in defeat.
The next morning the forest fire had gone back down to forge size, but I still called the doctor to make an appointment. A call to my boss, who by the way is the best boss in the world (and no, I don't think she reads this blog), helped me decide that I wasn't going to the conference, at least not that morning. She did ask me to get a doctor's note to show the airline to see if we could get our money back. I asked her if she wanted a teacher's note too, but she declined. He, he. I pray I'll have a sense of humor until I die.
So hobbling my fever and fire filled body to the doctor's office I sat there feeling dumb. As long as he didn't say "You're just fine. Everything is normal" I would be happy. Why don't I want to be fine? Because I hate going to the doctor, and I refuse to go unless everything is most definitely NOT fine! The dude came with me, mostly because me and a fever don't make a good driving team. I also tend to forget my symptoms as soon as I walk into the doctor's office.
We laid it out symptom by symptom for the doctor. He listened to my lungs, even made me do the "EEE" thing to further listen to the good old air sacks. Then he said it. (Now those of you who saw the warning signs when I was scoffing at my mom's suggestion will enjoy the justice of this next part.) "Pneumonia, the beginning stages." Evidently the air didn't just flow through the lower parts of my lungs like it's supposed to and the "EEE" sounded more like a Moose call. (Hey, what can I say? Even my pneumonia has a sense of humor.)
So now I have hot pink horse pills and I'm missing work and the conference. Oh, and watching a lot of movies twice because I don't want to get up and put a new one in the DVD player. The silver lining is that I was able to turn my journal into an art project anyway. I've been enjoying it.
Luckily the dude started feeling a lot better today. When we are both sick.... Well, that's just not any fun. For anyone.
The good news is we may have 12 nieces and nephews 9 months from now. That one you'll have to call and ask me about. I'll try and tell you all about it. Between coughs.
But for work, you have to do many things you don't want to. (Which is a thing I'm still trying to convince myself of.) So my boss and I looked up some good restaurants we would eat at, I made myself a new journal, came up with a bunch of things to bring that could be my security blanket (a sort of 'will travel' comfort zone), found things to turn my new journal into an art project, and marked a lot of my favorite comfort bringing and courage giving scriptures. By Saturday night I had almost convinced myself to stop looking forward with dread to this Monday.
Sunday morning I woke up aching on every inch of my skin. I will admit that earlier in the week I had kind of hoped that my minor runny nose would turn into something bad enough for me not to go, but I wasn't truly serious. Who wants an illness that's bad enough to keep you from going to a conference that's already been paid for? Back to Sunday morning. The dude had been sick since Friday, so I of course blamed him for getting me sick. Both of us had fevers and a cough That's when I realized that my chest was on fire. No not literally, but it sure felt like someone had lit a forge in my lungs. When even getting dressed hurt enough to cause me to whimper in pain I finally gave in to the dude's suggestion that we may have to miss church.
I texted my boss telling her I was sick so we could prepare for the possibility of me not going to the conference. I felt worse and worse as the day passed. As I was talking to my mom and told her how I was feeling she said, "It sounds like you have pneumonia." I laughed in spite of the coughing. "Mom, I've just felt like this for a day. I don't have pneumonia! I just have some dumb cold. I'll feel better in the morning." Not giving up she continued, "You should go see a doctor."
Me scoffing again, "Mom, I'm not going to the doctor. They'll probably tell me that nothing is wrong but a cold."
When the forge in my lungs turned into a raging forest fire that night, the dude told me that if I felt like that the next morning I needed to go to the doctor. As I could barely breathe I just nodded in defeat.
The next morning the forest fire had gone back down to forge size, but I still called the doctor to make an appointment. A call to my boss, who by the way is the best boss in the world (and no, I don't think she reads this blog), helped me decide that I wasn't going to the conference, at least not that morning. She did ask me to get a doctor's note to show the airline to see if we could get our money back. I asked her if she wanted a teacher's note too, but she declined. He, he. I pray I'll have a sense of humor until I die.
So hobbling my fever and fire filled body to the doctor's office I sat there feeling dumb. As long as he didn't say "You're just fine. Everything is normal" I would be happy. Why don't I want to be fine? Because I hate going to the doctor, and I refuse to go unless everything is most definitely NOT fine! The dude came with me, mostly because me and a fever don't make a good driving team. I also tend to forget my symptoms as soon as I walk into the doctor's office.
We laid it out symptom by symptom for the doctor. He listened to my lungs, even made me do the "EEE" thing to further listen to the good old air sacks. Then he said it. (Now those of you who saw the warning signs when I was scoffing at my mom's suggestion will enjoy the justice of this next part.) "Pneumonia, the beginning stages." Evidently the air didn't just flow through the lower parts of my lungs like it's supposed to and the "EEE" sounded more like a Moose call. (Hey, what can I say? Even my pneumonia has a sense of humor.)
So now I have hot pink horse pills and I'm missing work and the conference. Oh, and watching a lot of movies twice because I don't want to get up and put a new one in the DVD player. The silver lining is that I was able to turn my journal into an art project anyway. I've been enjoying it.
Luckily the dude started feeling a lot better today. When we are both sick.... Well, that's just not any fun. For anyone.
The good news is we may have 12 nieces and nephews 9 months from now. That one you'll have to call and ask me about. I'll try and tell you all about it. Between coughs.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Ode to P.G. Wodehouse
Earlier this week I read an article entitled 'Scrapbook Wars' in the paper. I've heard rumblings of this very event for a while, but I am so uninformed I had to read about it in the paper. For those of you who want more specifics check out Jan. 28th's Life & Styles section of the Daily Herald. Now this is good clean fun. This article is almost as humorous to me as this year’s presidential race. When I start to feel like life has lost some of it’s savor and how am I ever going to make it through the day because my brain is total mush and I feel like I’m walking through quagmire, things like this remind me that fate is not against me, just sharing a good joke with me. Old John Wayne movies and P.G. Wodehouse stories do the same thing for me. And Saturday was Ground Hogs day! How amazing is that!!! (Yes, I did watch the movie. The dude and I actually went to three stores to find it. The last copy was ours! Hooray! How could I have ever hated that masterful example of fatalist comedy?)
Other things that made me Laugh (I mean really laugh) over the past few months:
Pat Robertson supporting Rudy Gulliani
Hearing that my boss was going to be joining a Wii bowling league.
That's not much, but it takes a lot for me to remember anything. That last one about bowling...Tears were streaming down my face.
On the flip side. Three times this week I found myself yelling, yes, yelling at the radio in the morning on my way to work. Why do people always seem stupider (more stupid?) in the morning. Once was at a "conservative" (what does that really mean anyway? It seems like the first requirement to being a conservative is to stick your head in the sand. At least that's what anyone listening to this guy would think) senator or some such dude that had written a book with some other guy about something (see it takes a lot for me to remember something). He kept representing statistics as undeniable facts. The thing is what he was listing as a statistic you could tell had been skewed just to fit his argument. So I started yelling. I actually had to change the channel on the radio. Switch over to my favorite morning shows and some one else was being stupid. Yelling again. I was shocked at myself. Normally I confine myself to yelling at drivers who almost kill me and mine, but here I was yelling at the radio. Next morning, it happened again. And this time, they were just reading the news. What threw me over this time? Microsoft making a bid for Yahoo. In my house M------oft is a bad word. We call them lots of names. Everything is their fault. But here begins my conflict ---- I can see the business sense behind it. My face is turning red and twisting with (rage?) even thinking about it. I may have to inflict a boycott of the dirty company's email/news site in our house, much to the torture of my poor dude.
The cause of all this yelling? I realized it on my way to work, after calling and yelling in the dude's ear about the evil company. I was getting a cold. Which I say is all Stevie Ballmer's fault.
To over come this bout of yelling, the dude and I went to our local library. Have I admitted it here yet? I am a bibliophile. I am obsessed with reading, making, acquiring, and writing in books. Any day becomes better if I can drown my sorrows getting lost in the stacks. While we were there we found what I remember as being one of my grandma's favorite movies (correct me if that's wrong, sweet mother mine). Support Your Local Sheriff. If this post weren't already disgustingly long I would go into a love poem about that movie. One of the true classics. And imagine my joy yesterday when I found out there was a Support Your Local Gunfighter, which the dude and I have been assured is also a classic. Our Family Home Evening activity this week? Ordering the DVD set with both of them in it.
We had a Ground Hog's Day party last night. But now I'm going to have to watch the movie again in the quiet of my own home, because our little group of friends and off shoots do not watch movies quietly. Who's complaining, though, because I'm one of the loudest, and now I own it, so watch it more I will.
Enough, already, Collector! Stop spewing words onto this poor post!
Other things that made me Laugh (I mean really laugh) over the past few months:
Pat Robertson supporting Rudy Gulliani
Hearing that my boss was going to be joining a Wii bowling league.
That's not much, but it takes a lot for me to remember anything. That last one about bowling...Tears were streaming down my face.
On the flip side. Three times this week I found myself yelling, yes, yelling at the radio in the morning on my way to work. Why do people always seem stupider (more stupid?) in the morning. Once was at a "conservative" (what does that really mean anyway? It seems like the first requirement to being a conservative is to stick your head in the sand. At least that's what anyone listening to this guy would think) senator or some such dude that had written a book with some other guy about something (see it takes a lot for me to remember something). He kept representing statistics as undeniable facts. The thing is what he was listing as a statistic you could tell had been skewed just to fit his argument. So I started yelling. I actually had to change the channel on the radio. Switch over to my favorite morning shows and some one else was being stupid. Yelling again. I was shocked at myself. Normally I confine myself to yelling at drivers who almost kill me and mine, but here I was yelling at the radio. Next morning, it happened again. And this time, they were just reading the news. What threw me over this time? Microsoft making a bid for Yahoo. In my house M------oft is a bad word. We call them lots of names. Everything is their fault. But here begins my conflict ---- I can see the business sense behind it. My face is turning red and twisting with (rage?) even thinking about it. I may have to inflict a boycott of the dirty company's email/news site in our house, much to the torture of my poor dude.
The cause of all this yelling? I realized it on my way to work, after calling and yelling in the dude's ear about the evil company. I was getting a cold. Which I say is all Stevie Ballmer's fault.
To over come this bout of yelling, the dude and I went to our local library. Have I admitted it here yet? I am a bibliophile. I am obsessed with reading, making, acquiring, and writing in books. Any day becomes better if I can drown my sorrows getting lost in the stacks. While we were there we found what I remember as being one of my grandma's favorite movies (correct me if that's wrong, sweet mother mine). Support Your Local Sheriff. If this post weren't already disgustingly long I would go into a love poem about that movie. One of the true classics. And imagine my joy yesterday when I found out there was a Support Your Local Gunfighter, which the dude and I have been assured is also a classic. Our Family Home Evening activity this week? Ordering the DVD set with both of them in it.
We had a Ground Hog's Day party last night. But now I'm going to have to watch the movie again in the quiet of my own home, because our little group of friends and off shoots do not watch movies quietly. Who's complaining, though, because I'm one of the loudest, and now I own it, so watch it more I will.
Enough, already, Collector! Stop spewing words onto this poor post!
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