I am sick again. It came on really pretty quickly. I have lot of congestion, but no sore throat. Really, this time, my illness has been characterized by extreme fatigue. It’s not the kind of fatigue that made my sleep a sound sleep at night. Rather, it is fatigue that makes the thought of having to get up and take a shower seem impossible. It is a fatigue that makes me think that the pure effort of moving my jaws enough to chew makes eating not worth it. I associate this kind of fatigue with one thing- mono.
When I went to the doctor today, I was convinced that she was going to do blood work and confirm the presence of mono.
Almost as soon as she walked into the room, the doctor said, “You have strep throat.”
I was floored. Really, I’ve not had a sore throat and my fever has been really low. And I was convinced that I had mono.
She went on to explain that strep has a smell to it and that she smelled it. It’s not something you really want to hear when you are sick. “On top of feeling like crap, and looking like crap, you actually have an odor about you that isn’t so pleasant.”
She took a strep culture and gave me an antibiotic with the following reasoning, “If the culture comes back positive for strep, then you will have been on antibiotics for a couple of days. If it isn’t strep then it is a virus and you will just have to wait it out anyways.” More of what you really don’t want to hear.
The good news is that I have started the antibiotic and have already started to feel better. I guess her nose was right.
Thank goodness. I hate mono.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Remember, it turns back to a pumpkin at midnight.
If you go to the nail saloon on any Saturday morning this time of year, you will know that it is a special time of year. That’s right, it’s prom time.
I went to both my junior and senior prom. Michael wanted to go to his junior prom (I was a sophomore), but instead we went out of town with our youth group. I think that he was a little bitter. But we went the next year and did the whole after prom party thing at the bowling ally. I think that I had a curfew of midnight.
My senior year, I went with Brian. I liked Brian, but I am pretty confident that he wasn’t interested in me (or in anyone for that matter) and just agreed to go because he felt like he needed to go. I remember a not so fun dinner and then pretty much nothing of the prom itself. After that one, our group went to Patrick’s house and hung out for a while. He and his date weren’t really hitting it off. I think that night I had permission to stay out until 1, but Brian’s curfew was earlier.
Now that I am teaching in a high school, I have the opportunity to go to prom every year. For the past two years, I have come up with other things to do on prom night and I haven’t chaperoned. But this year, it looks like I am going. My math teacher friends are all going to go, and so I figure I should as well.
Obviously, some things are going to be different in this prom experience. I am not buying a new dress. I am not going out to eat a fancy dinner before hand. I probably won’t even go get a pedicure. And, sadly, it looks like I will be going alone. Unless of course you know someone who would like to go to prom on May 6th…
I went to both my junior and senior prom. Michael wanted to go to his junior prom (I was a sophomore), but instead we went out of town with our youth group. I think that he was a little bitter. But we went the next year and did the whole after prom party thing at the bowling ally. I think that I had a curfew of midnight.
My senior year, I went with Brian. I liked Brian, but I am pretty confident that he wasn’t interested in me (or in anyone for that matter) and just agreed to go because he felt like he needed to go. I remember a not so fun dinner and then pretty much nothing of the prom itself. After that one, our group went to Patrick’s house and hung out for a while. He and his date weren’t really hitting it off. I think that night I had permission to stay out until 1, but Brian’s curfew was earlier.
Now that I am teaching in a high school, I have the opportunity to go to prom every year. For the past two years, I have come up with other things to do on prom night and I haven’t chaperoned. But this year, it looks like I am going. My math teacher friends are all going to go, and so I figure I should as well.
Obviously, some things are going to be different in this prom experience. I am not buying a new dress. I am not going out to eat a fancy dinner before hand. I probably won’t even go get a pedicure. And, sadly, it looks like I will be going alone. Unless of course you know someone who would like to go to prom on May 6th…
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
I remember you
You are not the you I remember.
I remember the you that fed us melted cheese. Not just the grocery store brand, but the good kind of cheese in the foil wrapper. And it was always accompanied with a glass of orange juice. To this day, a cold glass of orange juice transports me to my 7 year old self with hair down my back, running around on the linoleum floor.
The you now can’t go to the kitchen on her own. She has to be helped to get up and helped to walk to the kitchen. She certainly isn’t going to the grocery store and buying the good cheese in the foil wrapper.
The you I remember loved to eat family meals. She always had something in the kitchen for everyone to sit down and eat.
Now you hardly eat two meals a day.
I remember the you that loved birthdays. You would always bring presents for all of the grandkids no matter whose birthday it was. You didn’t want any of us to feel left out and I also think that you wanted us to love birthdays as much as you.
This you forgot that my birthday was three weeks ago. This you thought I was born in May.
My memory of you still drives around in the Purple-People-Eater Cadillac. She still talks of taking vacations to the beach or the mountains in the RV.
The you of now can’t drive. And I am not sure that the you now will ever see the ocean again. Or the mountains.
I remember the you that had a memory for all things. That you could name every stop you made during a family vacation in the 60’s and what every member of the family ate at every stop.
The you I see now is losing the ability to remember. And memories are being replaced by stories that you have dreamed up, stories so bizarre that they must have slipped from your dreams and into your reality.
The you I remember was strong. She watched one amazing husband be eaten away by cancer, doing everything she could to stop or slow the progress. She was strong enough to love again only to watch another husband die slowly. The you I remember was full of life.
This you is so very frail. Your skin is covered in bruises and in some ways your spirit seems weaker.
The you I remember had an opinion on just about everything. Honestly, the you I remember could be a little much at times.
You now have trouble speaking, period. Whether speaking is just too hard, or it is too hard to express you opinions, this you is almost mute compared to the you I remember.
I remember the you that once told me that our priorities should be family, God, job, in that order. I remember how that you would get upset when people would talk about how great heaven will be. You wanted to have lost loved ones back here with you, never mind how wonderful the ever after might be.
But I remember when you changed your mind. When death ceased to be scary and your priorities reordered themselves.
And I wonder what this you I see now thinks. Is she scared? Does she understand?
And I miss the you I remember.
But, as much as I miss the you I remember, I am still thankful for this new you.
You have shown me a new side of my parents; you have shown me how patient and kind they are. This you has made me more grateful for each encounter I have with you and more grateful for my family as a whole.
I love you. Both yous.
I remember the you that fed us melted cheese. Not just the grocery store brand, but the good kind of cheese in the foil wrapper. And it was always accompanied with a glass of orange juice. To this day, a cold glass of orange juice transports me to my 7 year old self with hair down my back, running around on the linoleum floor.
The you now can’t go to the kitchen on her own. She has to be helped to get up and helped to walk to the kitchen. She certainly isn’t going to the grocery store and buying the good cheese in the foil wrapper.
The you I remember loved to eat family meals. She always had something in the kitchen for everyone to sit down and eat.
Now you hardly eat two meals a day.
I remember the you that loved birthdays. You would always bring presents for all of the grandkids no matter whose birthday it was. You didn’t want any of us to feel left out and I also think that you wanted us to love birthdays as much as you.
This you forgot that my birthday was three weeks ago. This you thought I was born in May.
My memory of you still drives around in the Purple-People-Eater Cadillac. She still talks of taking vacations to the beach or the mountains in the RV.
The you of now can’t drive. And I am not sure that the you now will ever see the ocean again. Or the mountains.
I remember the you that had a memory for all things. That you could name every stop you made during a family vacation in the 60’s and what every member of the family ate at every stop.
The you I see now is losing the ability to remember. And memories are being replaced by stories that you have dreamed up, stories so bizarre that they must have slipped from your dreams and into your reality.
The you I remember was strong. She watched one amazing husband be eaten away by cancer, doing everything she could to stop or slow the progress. She was strong enough to love again only to watch another husband die slowly. The you I remember was full of life.
This you is so very frail. Your skin is covered in bruises and in some ways your spirit seems weaker.
The you I remember had an opinion on just about everything. Honestly, the you I remember could be a little much at times.
You now have trouble speaking, period. Whether speaking is just too hard, or it is too hard to express you opinions, this you is almost mute compared to the you I remember.
I remember the you that once told me that our priorities should be family, God, job, in that order. I remember how that you would get upset when people would talk about how great heaven will be. You wanted to have lost loved ones back here with you, never mind how wonderful the ever after might be.
But I remember when you changed your mind. When death ceased to be scary and your priorities reordered themselves.
And I wonder what this you I see now thinks. Is she scared? Does she understand?
And I miss the you I remember.
But, as much as I miss the you I remember, I am still thankful for this new you.
You have shown me a new side of my parents; you have shown me how patient and kind they are. This you has made me more grateful for each encounter I have with you and more grateful for my family as a whole.
I love you. Both yous.
Monday, April 10, 2006
34 and counting
Spring is my favorite time of year. Without a doubt. And I have some very rational reasons behind that statement.
Some celebrate the New Year by making resolutions. Not I. January and February are the roughest months for me. I don’t need to add to the blues by piling on goals that I will drop in mid-February. Instead, the New Year is when I buckle in and concede to eating junk food because it makes me happy. Let’s face it, when I am going to and coming from work in the dark, anything that makes me happy (even if it comes coupled with guilt) is worth it.
So reason number one is that spring is the time when I start to believe that I can be a better person. Last spring, I started running for the first time in my life and eating better. It was in the spring (again, only last year) that I lost a good 35 pounds. And it is now spring that I am determined to lose the rest.
And spring is birthday season. The sister-who-asked-not-to-be-mentioned-in-a-post-tonight and I have birthdays three weeks apart to the day. When we were younger, we shared parties. One year it would be a My Little Pony theme, and the next Chuckie Cheese. It starts with her birthday and wraps up with mine. Since my family has not yet gotten together to celebrate mine this year, it is an extended birthday. I’m serious. Until my family sings and brings the cake, my birthday is still in effect (though it was really a week ago today).
Reason Three: In spring my favorite flower, the daffodil, covers front yards. They drive my sinuses crazy, but I still love them. I once did a photographic essay on daffodils and it won a prize.
Spring is a time of new love. I associate all of my past good relationships with spring beginnings. The guys I started dating in the fall were doomed even before the first date. More recently, spring seems to be the time for new crushes.
But if you took away all of those things, I would still love spring. Because the number one reason I love spring is that the countdown can begin. That’s right guys and girls, there are only 34 more school days until summer break. Or even better, only 6 more Mondays. Who wouldn’t love that?
Some celebrate the New Year by making resolutions. Not I. January and February are the roughest months for me. I don’t need to add to the blues by piling on goals that I will drop in mid-February. Instead, the New Year is when I buckle in and concede to eating junk food because it makes me happy. Let’s face it, when I am going to and coming from work in the dark, anything that makes me happy (even if it comes coupled with guilt) is worth it.
So reason number one is that spring is the time when I start to believe that I can be a better person. Last spring, I started running for the first time in my life and eating better. It was in the spring (again, only last year) that I lost a good 35 pounds. And it is now spring that I am determined to lose the rest.
And spring is birthday season. The sister-who-asked-not-to-be-mentioned-in-a-post-tonight and I have birthdays three weeks apart to the day. When we were younger, we shared parties. One year it would be a My Little Pony theme, and the next Chuckie Cheese. It starts with her birthday and wraps up with mine. Since my family has not yet gotten together to celebrate mine this year, it is an extended birthday. I’m serious. Until my family sings and brings the cake, my birthday is still in effect (though it was really a week ago today).
Reason Three: In spring my favorite flower, the daffodil, covers front yards. They drive my sinuses crazy, but I still love them. I once did a photographic essay on daffodils and it won a prize.
Spring is a time of new love. I associate all of my past good relationships with spring beginnings. The guys I started dating in the fall were doomed even before the first date. More recently, spring seems to be the time for new crushes.
But if you took away all of those things, I would still love spring. Because the number one reason I love spring is that the countdown can begin. That’s right guys and girls, there are only 34 more school days until summer break. Or even better, only 6 more Mondays. Who wouldn’t love that?
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Gorwing Up
Maybe six weeks ago I found out that my sister is dating her old high school boyfriend. It was a little of a blow because they had been going out about a month and she hadn't told me. And it was a little bit of a shocker, but not necessarily in a bad way.
I like the guy. I have always liked him, except for those times that he made Rebecca cry. Then I wanted to cause a slow and painful death, but isn't that what every big sister would feel? In ways it is easier for me that she is going out with him. Of all her boyfriends, he has spent the most time hanging out with my family and so it makes it easier for me to joke around with him. It isn't as awkward as other boyfriends being here. If he does something to annoy me, I feel free to tell him so without the guilt of thinking that I have to be nice.
One of the cool things about living with your sibling is that you just kind of grow into it. Though we have both grown up, I don't notice the changes that have occurred. For instance, today Josh remarked that Rebecca is moodier now than she was in the old days; since I grew into the moodiness, I just assume that she has always been moody.
But I haven’t been around Josh in over 8 years. I notice the changes in him. Maybe it isn’t so much change, as it is things I just never knew. Most important is the fact that he is a cleaner. Apparently, he doesn’t like to be in messy environments. This is good news for me. When I got home yesterday and went upstairs, I was surprised to see that the carpet (including my room) had been vacuumed. And vacuumed so that the lines are in the carpet. I don’t have a clue as to how you get the lines to stay in the carpet.
There are times when I am a bit envious of my sister’s ability to meet guys and always be in a relationship. But this time, my envy is minimal. Let’s face it, she got a boyfriend and I got a maid. Not a bad deal.
I like the guy. I have always liked him, except for those times that he made Rebecca cry. Then I wanted to cause a slow and painful death, but isn't that what every big sister would feel? In ways it is easier for me that she is going out with him. Of all her boyfriends, he has spent the most time hanging out with my family and so it makes it easier for me to joke around with him. It isn't as awkward as other boyfriends being here. If he does something to annoy me, I feel free to tell him so without the guilt of thinking that I have to be nice.
One of the cool things about living with your sibling is that you just kind of grow into it. Though we have both grown up, I don't notice the changes that have occurred. For instance, today Josh remarked that Rebecca is moodier now than she was in the old days; since I grew into the moodiness, I just assume that she has always been moody.
But I haven’t been around Josh in over 8 years. I notice the changes in him. Maybe it isn’t so much change, as it is things I just never knew. Most important is the fact that he is a cleaner. Apparently, he doesn’t like to be in messy environments. This is good news for me. When I got home yesterday and went upstairs, I was surprised to see that the carpet (including my room) had been vacuumed. And vacuumed so that the lines are in the carpet. I don’t have a clue as to how you get the lines to stay in the carpet.
There are times when I am a bit envious of my sister’s ability to meet guys and always be in a relationship. But this time, my envy is minimal. Let’s face it, she got a boyfriend and I got a maid. Not a bad deal.
M-I-Crooked Letter-Crooked Letter-I...
I have been just too busy to write lately and for that I apologize. There have been funny things to write about and I simply haven’t had time to get them out onto paper.
I didn’t even write about the staff development we had a while back in which we were forced to suffer through a Dolly Pardon, Minnie Pearl (from Hee Haw), and Lucille Ball impersonation. I am not kidding in the slightest. It was two and a half hours of pure torture. I am sorry that I can’t give you the details anymore; thankfully, it is starting to feel like a bad nightmare that I am forgetting.
I just returned yesterday from leading my first short term mission trip. It was an amazing experience, but I have to admit that I was a little bit scared to be leading. When I agreed to lead the team, it was with the understanding that I would have a co-leader. And then she wasn’t able to go.
When she was teaching us to swim, momma pretty much just threw us into the pool; I felt that leading this trip was a very similar experience. But everything went well. No wrecks in the rented vans. No hospital visits. No drama queen tears shed. All in all, I think that it was a success. I think that we did a lot of good and that we all learned a lot. All 48 of us were changed in some way.
It was good to go back to Pass Christian. An amazing amount of work has been done since Christmas, but there is still an incredible amount to be done. On Monday, we cleaned out a house that had not been touched since the storm; the drawers in the bedroom still had water pooled in them. The house belongs to Roy and Bonnie Hogan. They are a really sweet and truly Southern couple who will celebrate their 56 anniversary in August. The house was their dream home. And in spite of the destruction of the home they loved so much, they were joyful, welcoming, and hopeful. They treated each other as newlyweds; isn’t that the kind of marriage that everyone hopes to have?
My team was amazing. From so many different walks of life, I was a little concerned that they wouldn’t all get along. I couldn’t have been more wrong (who am I to question the Sovereignty of God?). They cared for each other and shared with each other. And they are just great people. My circle of friends grew on this trip.
Lest this post become an overly serious one, I will leave you with one of the funnier moments on the trip. Those of you who know me are aware that I HATE HATE HATE bananas. I think that they are of the devil. Monday was my birthday. It was our first day in Pass Christian and at lunch I told some of my team members about my disdain for bananas. After our evening meeting the team sang “Happy Birthday” and they had a cake and ice cream. The cake that they bought (some sort of yummy chocolate cake) got lost in a cooler. But it just so happened that a group from Memphis had sent down some cakes for the volunteers and there was a layer cake in the mix. People were talking about how great it was that God provided a cake. And then I took a bite. Yep, banana. I almost lost my dinner. Happy Birthday to me.
I didn’t even write about the staff development we had a while back in which we were forced to suffer through a Dolly Pardon, Minnie Pearl (from Hee Haw), and Lucille Ball impersonation. I am not kidding in the slightest. It was two and a half hours of pure torture. I am sorry that I can’t give you the details anymore; thankfully, it is starting to feel like a bad nightmare that I am forgetting.
I just returned yesterday from leading my first short term mission trip. It was an amazing experience, but I have to admit that I was a little bit scared to be leading. When I agreed to lead the team, it was with the understanding that I would have a co-leader. And then she wasn’t able to go.
When she was teaching us to swim, momma pretty much just threw us into the pool; I felt that leading this trip was a very similar experience. But everything went well. No wrecks in the rented vans. No hospital visits. No drama queen tears shed. All in all, I think that it was a success. I think that we did a lot of good and that we all learned a lot. All 48 of us were changed in some way.
It was good to go back to Pass Christian. An amazing amount of work has been done since Christmas, but there is still an incredible amount to be done. On Monday, we cleaned out a house that had not been touched since the storm; the drawers in the bedroom still had water pooled in them. The house belongs to Roy and Bonnie Hogan. They are a really sweet and truly Southern couple who will celebrate their 56 anniversary in August. The house was their dream home. And in spite of the destruction of the home they loved so much, they were joyful, welcoming, and hopeful. They treated each other as newlyweds; isn’t that the kind of marriage that everyone hopes to have?
My team was amazing. From so many different walks of life, I was a little concerned that they wouldn’t all get along. I couldn’t have been more wrong (who am I to question the Sovereignty of God?). They cared for each other and shared with each other. And they are just great people. My circle of friends grew on this trip.
Lest this post become an overly serious one, I will leave you with one of the funnier moments on the trip. Those of you who know me are aware that I HATE HATE HATE bananas. I think that they are of the devil. Monday was my birthday. It was our first day in Pass Christian and at lunch I told some of my team members about my disdain for bananas. After our evening meeting the team sang “Happy Birthday” and they had a cake and ice cream. The cake that they bought (some sort of yummy chocolate cake) got lost in a cooler. But it just so happened that a group from Memphis had sent down some cakes for the volunteers and there was a layer cake in the mix. People were talking about how great it was that God provided a cake. And then I took a bite. Yep, banana. I almost lost my dinner. Happy Birthday to me.
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