I have never been so aware of my spleen. Seriously, a three days ago you could have asked me to locate it and I'd just point in the general abdominal area. Now I know...it's tucked up under my left rib, but part of it comes down into my tummy. And I can feel it. Every time I laugh or burp or sneeze or yawn. It doesn't hurt, there's just a lot of pressure. I imagine this is sort of what pregnancy feels like...a pressure, a weight inside the body where before there was nothing out of the ordinary. On the upside, this pressure won't last nine months. On the downside, it won't end with something as wonderful as a baby.
Seven days until Gigi's 19th. Boyfriend went shopping this morning, Dad's asked what I want and beyond that I don't know anything. I'm hoping to get the usual cards with money inside. Boyfriend are going to need to eat eventually, after all. Turkey doesn't hold out for long.
Urgh. The Massive Headache has returned. It's been a companion of mine for about five days now. And does Tylenol take care of it? Of course not.
Stop complaining, Gigi. It could be worse.
Bah humbug.
OH!! Breaking news! Mom is getting out the Christmas tree to decorate! I love decorating Christmas trees!
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Nothing Rhymes With Mono
What has two thumbs and mononucleosis?
Yep. Yours truly has the kissing disease. Yaaaaaaaay.
(Thanks a lot, Boyfriend. I don't know if you gave it to me but I'm blaming you anyway.)
La Madre picked me up this afternoon to come home for Thanksgivin'. She took one look at my enormous left lymph node (it's covered up by my hair in the picture) and decided we needed to go see a doctor. Two and a half hours, one disgusted nurse, one painful throat swab and a needle in my vein later, Doc says, "You got mono."
WELL CRAP.
I've read about people who've had mono. I know people who've have mono. And they all say something along the lines of "I was more tired with mono than I was after pushing my 10 pound son through my girly bits for 18 hours." Me? Tired? No sir. Well, I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy. I wake up at night at least three times. I'm restless during the day. Nap time has just never been my forte.
So now I'm sitting here trying not to shake my fist at the fates. Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Am I going anywhere? Nope. No holiday party for Gigi. My birthday is next Friday. Am I gonna be all chipper and dazzling like I always imagine I should be on the anniversary of my birth? Noooo. Christmas is in a matter of weeks. Christmas is my favorite holiday. WHY, GERMS?! WHY!??!!
Then I do the zen thing. I take a deep breath and think how Grandma Rose would think. Be a positive, cheery, everything's-fine 89 year old, I tell myself. And it works. Maybe I'll feel a bit better on my birthday. Maybe I'll make it through finals. Yes, this sucks, but this just might be the worst of it.
Ommmmmm....
(Thanks a lot, Boyfriend. I don't know if you gave it to me but I'm blaming you anyway.)
La Madre picked me up this afternoon to come home for Thanksgivin'. She took one look at my enormous left lymph node (it's covered up by my hair in the picture) and decided we needed to go see a doctor. Two and a half hours, one disgusted nurse, one painful throat swab and a needle in my vein later, Doc says, "You got mono."
WELL CRAP.
I've read about people who've had mono. I know people who've have mono. And they all say something along the lines of "I was more tired with mono than I was after pushing my 10 pound son through my girly bits for 18 hours." Me? Tired? No sir. Well, I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy. I wake up at night at least three times. I'm restless during the day. Nap time has just never been my forte.
So now I'm sitting here trying not to shake my fist at the fates. Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Am I going anywhere? Nope. No holiday party for Gigi. My birthday is next Friday. Am I gonna be all chipper and dazzling like I always imagine I should be on the anniversary of my birth? Noooo. Christmas is in a matter of weeks. Christmas is my favorite holiday. WHY, GERMS?! WHY!??!!
Then I do the zen thing. I take a deep breath and think how Grandma Rose would think. Be a positive, cheery, everything's-fine 89 year old, I tell myself. And it works. Maybe I'll feel a bit better on my birthday. Maybe I'll make it through finals. Yes, this sucks, but this just might be the worst of it.
Ommmmmm....
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Homemaking Heaven
Well, it's official. Boyfriend and I are moving out of Boyfriend's friend's mom's basement and into a legitimate apartment of our own. As soon as we can find one within our budget, that is.
I'm excited about having more than just a bedroom to share, of course. But the one thing I am really REALLY excited about? A kitchen of my own. I don't know, maybe it's an Italian girl thing, but I am unbelievably excited to have a place with a stove and a full-size refridgerator. I'm crossing my fingers for a dishwasher too, but if we don't luck out, I'll cope.
Naturally, I'm already drooling over the recipes I'm planning to make in our little love nest. Like frozen hot chocolate in the warmer months. Or these itty-bitty lasagnas. And of course a good staple like this easy bread. This little chickadee is one excited homemaker-to-be!
I'm trying not to think about the other things the apartment will most likely need, though. Boyfriend has banned futons from his life, so no Wal-Mart couch for us. We'll also need a dresser and probably a kitchen table and chairs, if we can get them. Luckily, Boyfriend doesn't hate thrift shops as much as he hates futons, so we'll probably end up there first. With luck we'll be able to find something from this decade.
Oh and Thanksgiving is day after tomorrow! My favorite gustatory holiday. My favorite Turkey Day food? Well, it's split between pumpkin pie and yams with lots of butter and brown sugar. Ohhhh yum. I'm drooling now.
Happy Thanksgivin'!
I'm excited about having more than just a bedroom to share, of course. But the one thing I am really REALLY excited about? A kitchen of my own. I don't know, maybe it's an Italian girl thing, but I am unbelievably excited to have a place with a stove and a full-size refridgerator. I'm crossing my fingers for a dishwasher too, but if we don't luck out, I'll cope.
Naturally, I'm already drooling over the recipes I'm planning to make in our little love nest. Like frozen hot chocolate in the warmer months. Or these itty-bitty lasagnas. And of course a good staple like this easy bread. This little chickadee is one excited homemaker-to-be!
I'm trying not to think about the other things the apartment will most likely need, though. Boyfriend has banned futons from his life, so no Wal-Mart couch for us. We'll also need a dresser and probably a kitchen table and chairs, if we can get them. Luckily, Boyfriend doesn't hate thrift shops as much as he hates futons, so we'll probably end up there first. With luck we'll be able to find something from this decade.
Oh and Thanksgiving is day after tomorrow! My favorite gustatory holiday. My favorite Turkey Day food? Well, it's split between pumpkin pie and yams with lots of butter and brown sugar. Ohhhh yum. I'm drooling now.
Happy Thanksgivin'!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Literacy and Liberty
It's a good day to be a blogger in America. In Iran, not so much.
A young man my age has been imprisoned for speaking his mind online. (Allah forbid.) He could be whipped, sentenced to life in prison...maybe even executed, if his "crimes" are found to be just that horrible.
It troubles me very deeply that well into the twenty-first century, a teenage boy still can't express himself. He can't tell people what he's reading, what his life is like, or even who his friends are.
But if this young man has anything to be grateful for, it is that he is not a woman. If a female blogger were to be imprisoned, I cringe to think what might happen to her.
Iran isn't real crazy about having women who know how to read.
Can't we do something?
In the mid- to late-1800s, a revolution occurred in America that changed its destiny forever. Poor children of farmers became literate. They learned how to think for themselves, how to back up their arguments. America's children became powerful.
And this is what needs to happen in Iran.
Now, I don't claim to know anything about life in Iran, but I believe I can claim to have a decent grasp of history and how it repeats itself, as the saying goes. And so, if you teach the children of Iran to read and teach them there is more than one way to be "right" and sometimes nobody is "right," well, then...we've got a little bit of a healthier world on our hands.
A young man my age has been imprisoned for speaking his mind online. (Allah forbid.) He could be whipped, sentenced to life in prison...maybe even executed, if his "crimes" are found to be just that horrible.
It troubles me very deeply that well into the twenty-first century, a teenage boy still can't express himself. He can't tell people what he's reading, what his life is like, or even who his friends are.
But if this young man has anything to be grateful for, it is that he is not a woman. If a female blogger were to be imprisoned, I cringe to think what might happen to her.
Iran isn't real crazy about having women who know how to read.
Can't we do something?
In the mid- to late-1800s, a revolution occurred in America that changed its destiny forever. Poor children of farmers became literate. They learned how to think for themselves, how to back up their arguments. America's children became powerful.
And this is what needs to happen in Iran.
Now, I don't claim to know anything about life in Iran, but I believe I can claim to have a decent grasp of history and how it repeats itself, as the saying goes. And so, if you teach the children of Iran to read and teach them there is more than one way to be "right" and sometimes nobody is "right," well, then...we've got a little bit of a healthier world on our hands.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Secrets and Satin
Boyfriend's birthday was pretty great. :) I got home from working on the Trail (for NINE HOURS) at about 2 a.m. Shortly after, Boyfriend came home VERY drunk. As in, he called me to help him down the stairs. He was very silly and loud, but hey, he was happy. I thought, "Oh geez...I've got to document this." So I took a cell phone video. Which mostly consists of him giggling.
About 15 minutes later, he gives me a sort of glazed look and says, "I think I'm going to throw up."
And boy, did he.
He was puking pretty continuously until 4 in the morning. I was worrying continuously until he felt ok enough to come to bed. (He didn't want me to see him in such a weak, icky state, so he made me stay out of the bathroom. Didn't stop me from worrying.)
He was hungover most of the next day. He was okay enough to go to dinner, though, which was good because we had big plans :) We went to Wyoming's Rib & Chop House, one of our favorite restaurants. I spoiled him rotten, too. He got filet mignon with crab legs, red zinfandel and an appetizer of buffalo chicken tenders. (Which were AMAZING.) I got pot roast, which doesn't sound fancy but the Rib & Chop House has the best pot roast I've ever tasted in my life.
I got Boyfriend satin sheets and a book of 21 poems I wrote. He likes my poetry, and his old sheets were worn and torn, so I figured he'd like them.
In other news, Boyfriend is playing emo covers of rap songs while I kind of do homework.
I'm so sick of homework!!!
About 15 minutes later, he gives me a sort of glazed look and says, "I think I'm going to throw up."
And boy, did he.
He was puking pretty continuously until 4 in the morning. I was worrying continuously until he felt ok enough to come to bed. (He didn't want me to see him in such a weak, icky state, so he made me stay out of the bathroom. Didn't stop me from worrying.)
He was hungover most of the next day. He was okay enough to go to dinner, though, which was good because we had big plans :) We went to Wyoming's Rib & Chop House, one of our favorite restaurants. I spoiled him rotten, too. He got filet mignon with crab legs, red zinfandel and an appetizer of buffalo chicken tenders. (Which were AMAZING.) I got pot roast, which doesn't sound fancy but the Rib & Chop House has the best pot roast I've ever tasted in my life.
I got Boyfriend satin sheets and a book of 21 poems I wrote. He likes my poetry, and his old sheets were worn and torn, so I figured he'd like them.
In other news, Boyfriend is playing emo covers of rap songs while I kind of do homework.
I'm so sick of homework!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)