Clumsy, Clutzy Coughing Fits

I've been sick for four days. This is the dainty little sneezing with pretty cloth hankies either. This is a fire in my throat, and a cork in my nose. That's right people; I have strep throat. Again. I don't know why this particular ailment loves me so much, but I seem to contract it at least two times a year. And, it hangs onto my body like I'm the only thing with tonsils for a two hundred mile radius.


Most of my family doesn't even know that I'm sick, and this is because I turn into a complete introvert when I'm ill. I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to see people. I don't even want to listen to people. Everything. Hurts. I'm also kind of a whiner, and I realize it. So, the sound of my own voice becomes irritating.


However, I didn't write this post to whine about being sick. I wanted to tell all of you how badly sickness seems to amplify my normal clumsy nature.


You see, I've always known that I was a clumsy, clutzy person. From the moment I walked into my third grade classroom and stepped straight into a trashcan (and proceeded to get my foot stuck in said trashcan), I have known that I was doomed to bump and trip my way through life.


Really, its not that bad of a lot to have overall. I just have lots of bruises.


However, it seems that when I am sick this normal trippy, dippy nature is amplified to insurmountable heights. I proceeded to make this ten times worse today when I took an "Energy Now".


You see, I sell vitamins and natural remedies in my spare time (www.trivita.com/13564194). I like the natural products because they don't interfere with any other medication I might have to be on, and when I'm sick, I double up on my daily vitamins hoping the the extra vitamin C will help my body win the fight.


Well, another thing I don't do when I'm sick is clean. I stay in my bed as much as I can, and I try to keep myself hydrating and focusing on getting well. Today I decided that I had been in bed long enough and that my house needed to be cleaned (boy, was I right). So, I hobbled out of bed and coughed my way down the stairs to look at the damage.


I was nearly overwhelmed, but I pulled myself together and started working. After an hour or so, I was too tired to move. But, I had a secret remedy, and I wasn't afraid to use it! "Energy now" is a green tea, B-12, and other energy amplifiers supplement that gives you a nice natural boost without the drag later on. I love it, and I knew it would be perfect for today.


However, I didn't expect my wheezing and bumbling to get in the way. I tripped on my way into the kitchen. I bumped into the end of the couch and got a nice bruise. I slammed my head into the arm of the treadmill, and I slipped in the bathroom after cleaning the floor.


I think I've determined that its best for me to just admit defeat and crawl back in bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Party Planning

Well, I posted one thing today that I know will make my mother cry, so I had to post something else to make her laugh.

Last Saturday was my husband's birthday, and this year we decided to throw a little party at our house with both of our families in attendance. I don't know why, but "small" parties always seem like a good idea to me. I always think it'll be no big deal, (People. Food. What else could you need?) and then I wake up the day after and every muscle on my body hurts like I've been hit by a train.

How do I always manage to do this?

Really, it should be easy. After all, it wasn't completely my responsibility. Other people brought things. Other people help set up. Other people helped to clean up. Where does all this pain come in?

I'll tell you where - I inherited my mother's "stress" gene.

My brain says, "A simple party. That sounds nice."

To which my mind replies, "A party? Oh my God. We have to clean the house. We have to really, really clean the house. Cabinets need to be reorganized! Are all of my files in order?! They might LOOK through those! Right?! Right!"

So then, I spend a week neurotically cleaning my house, but by the time the party comes around, its gotten messy again because I can't be cleaning the drawers out in the bedroom and vacuuming the living room. (Because, obviously, you need to choose the obsessive small things over the normal, big ones.)

Then my brain says, "We'll grill. It'll be sooo simple. Give other people things to bring, and then I'll only have to do one thing!"

But my mind butts in with, "I know I was only going to bring the buns and hamburgers, but what about baked beans? Oh! And, potato salad! We can't have hamburgers without potato salad! Oh no, wait! Don't forget the wheat buns! Someone might want wheat buns. Oh... and a cake. I need to make a cake for my mother-in-law because its her birthday too, and she's making my husband's birthday cake so she'll need her own!"

This causes me to spend a whole day cooking - which also makes me revert back to cleaning because I am a very, very messy cook.

It turned out to be a wonderful party - really, it did. I was glad everyone got to come, and my grandparents even managed to make it out. I got to show off a piece of furniture that my husband built for me, and we got to spend a few hours talking to the people we love the most.

I had today off from work anyway, so I've taken it easy for the most part. Now, I'll be ready to start the day tomorrow, and my husband has a memorable birthday.

For my family reading this, I love you all, and thank you again for coming. Next time, we'll have it at Mom and Dad's! ;)

For My Future

I've been holding on to a journal my sister gave me in January for my birthday. I've been promising myself that I would keep it as a pregnancy diary whenever my husband and I conceived again. Well, we haven't gotten to that point yet, but I decided in a moment of sadness and clarity this past week that I didn't necessarily have to wait completely. This was my entry:

Dear Future Little Bear,

I stood at my sink peeling potatoes today and cried. It wasn't the first time. I'm sure it won't be the last, but I wanted you to know. I know there will be days when you're older, and you'll probably wonder if daddy and me really love you because that's what all children do.

I know these pregnancy journals are supposed to be filled with happy thoughts and well wishes, but I don't think that's very realistic. Everyone worries. Everyone has fears, so I wanted to prove to you that I am just as human as you are. But, I also wanted you to know that even through my doubts and questions I have always loved you - even before you were here.

Today marks the end of the beginning in our attempts to conceive you. It's been six months, and you're still not here. I didn't think it would take this long, and I know that's very naive of me. But, I am human. I don't think anyone thinks about conception until they're actually trying to conceive.

So, today made me sad because it means there is one more month that I have to wait to meet you. I will dry my eyes now, and I will keep trying until you are here. I just wanted you to know that on this day I already love you - even before you have begun your life on this earth.

Love,

The One Who Waits

Off the Grid

I have already admitted to being a technology junkie, and I was forced to confront the depth of my obsession again today. As I’ve said before, I work from home. For the most part, its very convenient. I have good hours. I work with pretty laid back people - people who work from home always seem a bit more relaxed to me. And for the most part, when I’m done with work for the day, I’m done with work.

I just don’t have to commute.

However, there is a downside to my work, and its called rain. You see, out here in the boonies we have satellite internet. It’s like satellite TV, only its for your internet. …I know… that’s a very vivid explanation, isn’t it? Anyway, this also means any time that it rains… or is overcast… or… I don’t know… a cloud decides to stop for lunch over our satellite, I don’t get internet.

Let me also say that I did something really stupid and forgot to charge my cell phone last night, so about the time the internet went out, my phone also died.

And it all left me.

The great world of technology abandoned me completely.

No internet.

No email.

No internet radio - because, really, who can get F.M. reception waaaaay out here.

No instant messenger.

Not even any Google Talk. (I know some of you are probably wondering what Google Talk is, and let me just say to you… shameful. Everyone should know what Google Talk is.)

No Google period! How am I supposed to exist without being able to look up words I don’t know or people I’ve never heard of?!

I know. You probably don’t understand the depth of my plight, and that’s pretty sad too.

The point of this post, you may ask… Well… There really isn’t one. I’m just pouting.

I should never be deprived of internet.

It’s a terrible thing.

And this has been your public service announcement for the day. Enjoy.

A Day in the Life of Desireé - Part 2

12:15 PM

Nap time. Two words that strike fear into the heart of every child under the age of eight. My niece is no exception. She despises nap time with a passion. As we made our way to the top of the stairs and crawled into bed, my adorable four-year-old niece stared up at me with big brown eyes and questioned, “Can I watch TV., please?”

With a sigh, I did what every good non-parent does and gave in.

So for an hour, we watched TV. and avoided taking a nap.

1:30 PM

I needed to take a shower before we made our way to town, so we took a quick trip downstairs for toys. I resettled Desireé in the bed and took a quick shower, calling out to her every few minutes to make sure she wasn’t getting in to anything.

After I was done with my shower, I thought of the one thing that would keep her completely enthralled while I fixed my hair and make-up. A bath. This child loves water more than a fish. She likes to dump all of her toys in the bath tub and play games that I can’t even think to comprehend as an adult.

It worked like a charm. By three o’clock, I was dressed and ready to go. It only took a matter of minutes to scoop her from the tub and get her into her freshly washed clothes.

4:00 PM

After a few errands in town, we drove out to my grandparents’ house to play and talk for a little while. We had pizza for dinner, and all the adults watched in amusement as Desireé pulled the pepperoni off her slice and tried to cram the whole thing in her mouth at one time.

She and I spent some time coloring in one of her drawing books, but she soon decided that she wanted to go play outside - so much for that bath. During our trip around my grandparents’ house, my niece managed to stumble through an ant hill, and her feet got eaten to pieces.

She had bites on her heels, the tops of her feet, and even one in between her toes. She cried and begged to scratch them while Mega poured vinegar and children’s Benadryl over the sores.

Needless to say, she spent the rest of the time we had together that day on the couch in my grandparents’ den alternating between telling me that her feet were getting better and asking if she could scratch them because they itched.

A Day in the Life of Desireé - Part 1

I spent the entirety of my day yesterday in the mentality of a four year old. I have a beautiful niece with an inquisitive personality who loves the color pink. As a fun mix up, I’ve decided that today’s post will be about exactly what its like to entertain her for a whole day. Now, I will say this ahead of time. My husband and I don’t currently have any children, so I’m not really used to the chaos they throw into day-to-day activities.

I will also say that I try to be a fun aunt. I dedicate as much time during the day to doing fun activities and other things that she likes to do.

7:00 AM

I gathered a slightly sleepy child from her mother’s car seat with “silky” and “bun-bun” (her security blanket and blanket-bunny) in tow. By the time we reach my front door, we’ve already discussed her dream about unicorns and what she could possibly want for breakfast.

She really wanted fruit loops, but I managed to talk her into making whole wheat blueberry muffins. While we wait on them to cook, she decides that she needs a chocolate poptart to tide her over, but she does finally manage to eat a muffin during a series of He-Man cartoons - my husband’s dvds.

9:00 AM

With breakfast settled, we decided to do some chores. It’s amazing what can entertain a four year old. We washed dishes (me doing the washing and her playing with soap and water). We vacuumed (I vacuumed and she used my mini-vac to go over the rugs in the kitchen. We even folded and ironed the clothes (she managed to fold one towel, I think).

10:00 AM

Finally, the wet cleared out of the air, and we were able to go outside to play for a little while. First, I took her to the big stretch of pavement in the front yard to play with sidewalk chalk. She drew two baby unicorns while I drew the mommy. Then, she asked me to the name of basically everyone we knew, and when one of our future drawings overlapped my husband’s name I was commanded to rewrite it.

She’s very interested in the alphabet, and it amazes me how long you can spend just reciting letters and teaching her what letters are in different words.

We also managed to play with the leaf blower. I was surprised how entertaining it was to chase her around blowing leaves in her general direction while watching her laughing and  running.

After we were done in the front yard, we moved to the back to talk to all the animals. D’s aunt and uncle are here visiting from Florida, so we spent some time talking to their dog, Buster. He’s a large beagle with a habit of howling. We also talked to the rabbit, Tucks. We fed him celery through the holes in his pen and talked to him while he nibbled on leftover carrot shavings.

11:15 AM

Lunch with a four year old is always a grand affair. First, I made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Then the crust needed to be cut off.

Then it needed to be cut into bite-sized pieces. She then proceeded to count the number of said pieces every time she ate one.

After her sandwich, she decided that she was still hungry and wanted macaroni and cheese.

After macaroni and cheese, she wanted gummy bears.

When I told her that she couldn’t have gummy bears, she wanted a cupcake.

When I told her she couldn’t have a cupcake, she poked out her bottom lip and crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “But Aunt Sarah…”

I gave her the glare I inherited from my mother and returned with, “But Desireé…”

I decided it was time for a nap.

I bet you can all guess how well that went, but I’ll tell you the rest of the story tomorrow.

Story Teller

I love it when people talk with their hands. I think its almost poetic - the fluid momentum of speech versed against dancing hands. With each movement, you learn so much more about a person and the story they’re telling.

My family has a history of these finger-fluttering story tellers. Personally, I know my own words rise and fall with the intensity of my tale, and I’m always leaning on the edge of my seat to make sure each phrase is perfect. I do so love to tell a good story.

I also love to hear them, and I love it when relatives get together because I get so much more good material. I’ve been known to spend whole days just wasting away on spoken word. I think its becoming a lost art.

I know many people twice my age who can weave a fanciful anecdote - true or false. However, the number of people in their twenties who like to just “sit and talk a spell” seems to be dwindling more and more by the day.

Where are all the good story tellers going? Are we going to wake up one morning and not remember the meaning of the phrase “once upon a time” or “you won’t believe what happened the other day”?

The whole topic of this post came to me during a visit from my grandmother’s sister who recently came to stay. I didn’t even know she was in town, but I try to make it a habit to stop by and see my grandparents (whom we call Mega - pronounced Mee-Gah - and Papa) at least once a week. Papa, in particular, needs a little stirring up every once in a while, and I’m not against giving the old man a run for his money.

However when I arrived, I realized that my Aunt Gloria was down for the week from Alabama (how two women from Utah ever ended up in Georgia and Alabama I’ll never understand, but I digress). Well, I had really only planned to stay for two or three hours, but - sure enough - Aunt Gloria and I got to talking… and before I realized it the whole day had passed by. I think we caught each other up on every niece, sister, cousin, and great-grandchild there is in our family, but it was just so much fun.

We talked with our hands and our feet - and even our eyebrows when we really needed to get the point across.

After I left, there was a happiness in my heart that settled there for days, and I think that’s because that’s the way we are meant to be. In this era of text messaging and emails, we so often lack actual physical expression on a day-to-day basis that we are losing all of the good story tellers, and I for one can’t sit back and just let it happen.

So I beg of you when you catch yourself in conversation this week, work your hands into your dialogue and see exactly where it takes you.

You’ll be surprised just how much better pointing a finger can make you feel.

The Ice Cube Bandit

Before you even begin to question, this is about the cat… again. I know. It’s probably a pitiful life I lead, but it amuses me. So there.


Ever since I got married, my cat has been reacquainted with indoor living. Long ago when I first brought her home from the Humane Society, she was an inside kitty, but my Shoubi has always thought of herself as more of a barn cat. So after several years, we let her have her way, and she began living outside 24/7.


However when I got married, the house we moved into was not suitable for an outdoor pet, so she moved back inside. On the whole, she’s been quite happy with the new digs. She scratches the carpet, sheds on the furniture, and has someone to clean up her bathroom habits. What’s not to love?


As I stated in previous articles, Shoubi is also a tad on the not-well-adjusted side of life. Things strike her fancy in a very queer way, and its made living with her to be a very interesting learning experience. I’ve already told you the story of her attempt to rescue dishes from the plight that is my sink. Now I’m going to tell you another story.


And it begins inside my fridge.


Whenever we open the door to the refrigerator at our house, it sends out a summons and calls the cat from whatever room she is sleeping in and demands that she stand inside the bottom  to prevent us from closing the door. Apparently, the food is afraid of the dark, but the little man inside the fridge refuses to keep the light on unless the door is open.


Go figure.


Maybe he worries about my power bill as much as I do.


Shoubi doesn’t care how much it could cost me. She just wants us to leave the dang door open!


Needless to say, my husband and I have come up with several methods to either prevent her from getting inside the fridge at all or to back her out slowly once she’s already gotten inside.


The first measure is preventative, and its absolutely ridiculous. It consists of knowing exactly what you need and opening and closing the door so quickly that her keen kitty senses don’t have time to register the fact that there is a viable chance of intruding.


The second is used after the cat has already gotten into the coop, and it goes as follows: close the door. We simply close the refrigerator door and hope that she gets the message to back away. (Let me also note that this doesn’t really work. She will actually stay in there even with the door closed.)


And… that’s pretty much the only options we’ve come up with so far.


Well all that aside, I’ve always really wondered why she was so fascinated by the refrigerator, and tonight - I am proud to say - I figured it out.


I kind of feel stupid for not noticing it before.


She wants a piece of ice.


I kid you not, and I will repeat it for all the disbelievers out there. The cat wants a piece of ice, and she knows that they come from the general vicinity of the refrigerator. I discovered this because I noticed tonight when I was getting my own ice fix from the freezer that she was licking the small ice flurries that missed my cup and hit the tile.


A light switch turned on inside my head. It couldn’t possibly be this easy.


So, I waited twenty minutes and tried it again. Sure enough, her attention was diverted from the refrigerator by the ice cube.


I have now done this more than four times, and I’m beginning to think the cat may have another real problem.


Apparently, she’s addicted to ice cubes.


Who would’ve thought?!

The Things I Think About at Three in the Morning

It's exactly 3:13 A.M. here on the east coast. It's also Wednesday, October 5, 2011 - or so my husband's pilfered computer task bar tells me. And, I don't know about anyone else, but these early morning hour/late evening nights are when I have my life altering epiphanies. How do normal people (namely ones who are able to sleep at night) do it?

My world is one of constant changes. I never seem to do anything a particular way for too long, so my sleep schedule is constantly adjusting. (It probably doesn't help that I'm on a low dosage of constant steroids, but I do the best I can.) Anyway, I'm kind of veering off subject.

My point is that I wanted to tell you the kind of things I think about late at night. For starters when I have one of these benders, its usually because I feel like there's something that needs to be done, and it stresses me to the point where I can't sleep. I know its not healthy (Mom), but I promise I don't do it often. It also usually helps me feel very accomplished for the next few days because I gain those hours that most of you wasted sleeping.

Tonight, I finally reached the point where I felt the dirt in my house slowly creeping in. It started simply enough. Tomorrow is trash day. My husband takes the trash out on Wednesday mornings at 5 A.M. on his way to work, so Tuesday night I get it all together for him. As I walked around, I got a good look at the place - dusty shelves, dirty laundry, a fridge full of leftovers that needed to be thrown out, etc.

And it stuck in my head.

I'm still covered in paint from spending my day putting finishing touches on a ladder shelf D built for me (love it - post to come later), and my back aches from bending over so long to twist and paint upside down...

But it had to be done.

If it hadn't, I wouldn't have slept tonight, and I would've been miserable cleaning house tomorrow when there are other things on my 'To Do' list.

So while I was cleaning, I reflected on my marriage and my life. It's what I usually do during these times. I like to let my mind wander. My second anniversary is only a month away. I still distinctly remember pre-wedding jitters and wondering if I was really doing 'the right thing'. I remember trying on my mother's wedding dress for the first time and knowing that I would never need to look anywhere else.

I remember sitting at a sewing table with a woman I hardly knew (my mother-in-law whom I love dearly now) while we took aforementioned dress apart in hopes of making it fit just right.

I remember how wonderful it was to wake up the next morning and realize that I had started a new chapter in my life.

Where there once was an 'I', there now is a 'we'.

I remember moving into this house during a miserable construction and wondering if we would ever really get along. I remember our first big fight and how ridiculous I thought it was (even then). I remember finding out I was pregnant. We were both so shocked and worried that I think it took weeks to settle in.

I remember being alone and being told that our baby was gone. It was so hard and so sad that sometimes I still can't bear to think about it. My supposed-to-be due date has come and gone now with no baby, but it has drawn us together in a way I didn't know was possible.

I know now that maybe I wasn't ready. I know now what I really want in life. I know what it means to love someone more than yourself. I know what it means to be mad and sad and happy all at the same time.

These are the things that marriage has taught me. These are the things life and love and God have taught me. These are the things Daniel has taught me.

And without any of this, I would never be the same.

So here's to all of us. To life. To love. To loss. It is what we are, and it will be what it will be.

The Day My Computer Died

Okay, I admit it. I always have been and always will be a computer junkie, and these past few months of working from home with a completely computer based business haven't helped my habit. I have a blackberry with internet capabilities and few limitations. I have a laptop with unlimited wireless internet. Heck, I even access my printer remotely via a local network I set up with my internet connection!

It's habit that I'll probably never break, and, thankfully, this era works in my favor. I can shop, talk, work, schedule, bank, and breathe via my wireless connection.

So today will be a day forever burned into my memory in this technologically riddled era. I have been denying the fact for weeks that my schizo-computer has been more on the fritz as of late than usual. I kept telling myself that it was just being tempermental in its old age (six years)! Its allowed to have a few quirks because it ran so smoothly and kept all of my programs and files just the way I liked them.

It was just like a classic corvette. Sure, it might have been a little bulky, but it was all good under the hood and nothing ran better.

Until late last night.

I was actually in the middle of writing another blog post (which is lost and needs to be redone now) when the power dimmed and my poor computer jumped its circuit. It's been doing this for weeks now, but I kept ignoring the facts - praying that it would straighten out after a month or two.

After being unable to revive my old friend for over twenty four hours, I have finally come to the conclusion that the old dog is dead. I will mourn its passing like a favorite friend. It ran well for many years and has suffered numerous reformatting sequences with as much beauty and grace as possible.

So now I face the inevitable future with dread, our household has now become a one computer domain. Yes, that's right. My husband and will now be sharing one computer.

How did we ever survive in the "olden" days?!

I'll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck.