Monday Musing

Of Mono and other fun

I was thinking today, as I walked out the door for the grocery store, that it was exactly one year ago (though much earlier in the day) that I was sitting in the emergency room at IMH, where they told me that the reason I felt so terrible and couldn't swallow anything and felt like I could sleep all the time was that I had mono. A year later, I still feel like I could sleep for inordinate amounts of time, but as least I don't feel (or look) like I have a golf ball lodged underneath my jaw .. I'm still waiting to see what illness this year holds for me. This is the time of year when it happens. Two years ago, it was a strep infection so bad that I couldn't swallow water. Last year, it was mono. Until February is over, well, I'm on the lookout. I might extend the wariness into March. We'll see.

In the news ...

First, people, STOP CLIMBING MOUNT HOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF FRICKIN' WINTER!! And that's all I have to say about that.

Next up: I really don't care that Britney Spears shaved her head. Stop flooding my television with "exclusive photos" of the girl.

Anna Nicole Smith: She's dead. That's it. My theory is that she suffocated on her own breast implants while attempting to do Pilates. But if you really want to do a meaningful story about a prostitute/porn star dying, the least you could do is focus on the "vice girls" who were murdered by the latest Ripper wannabe in the UK. Anna Nicole is not worthy of a four-section breakout focusing on her short, tragic life, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Favorite Memories Revisited

I was sharing with Amber last night a favorite memory, and it brought back other favorite memories today ....

The favorite that I reminisced with Amber last night was last Easter, when she hosted an Easter dinner free-for-all at her house, complete with dozens of people, tons of homemade food and a cozy, this-is-the-way-life-ought-to-be feeling. At the end of the afternoon, it was twilight and then dark outside, the end of a beautiful spring day. We turned out the lights in the living room, where Amber's mom was resting in a chair, and the only light that I remember was coming from the kitchen, where a bunch of us were doing dishes together. Amber's dad had brought down a book-on-CD version of "Prince Caspian," and we were listening to that while we got the place cleaned up. It was just a perfectly cozy, comfortable, friend-filled (it felt family-filled) day and night.

And the memory that I basked in today was of the day that Brooke and I picked up our high school graduation announcements. It was in April (I think) again, and it was a gloriously rainy/misty/drizzly day, with the grass and trees that really vibrant, bright green and the sky a really low, gray, wet mess. We picked up the announcements, got some coffee and went driving around the outskirts of town, just enjoying the coolness, the greenness of the day. We were about to graduate high school, life felt completely full of promise, and we had coffee. And rain. How much more perfect could a spring afternoon in Wyoming get?

Wondering and Doubting and a Pumpkin Named Harold

Do you ever find yourself sometimes doubting that God really does have a plan for you, that it's good, and that it will, indeed, come to pass before you're too old and senile to recognize it for what it is? Or maybe I'm just weird in that doubt ... But when I remember picking up those graduation announcements, I remember that the Bible verse we had on those announcements was Jeremiah 29:11, and I wonder how I got to this place of doubt from that place of trust.

Take life in general, for example. It's apparently been part of God's plan that I stay single at least until this point in my life; likely longer. Perhaps much longer.

In my plan, I was supposed to be married by my early 20s, have a family and a house and an SUV by now and be carpooling kids to school and soccer lessons. My plan has not materialized, and I live in a one-bedroom apartment with a near-petrified pumpkin named Harold and a bunch of leafy green house plants that have taken over every available inch of window ledge/TV dinner tray/spare chair space in the place. I come home to a flickering hall light and television shows that I recorded earlier in the night. This was not my dream.

It's not terrible. That needs to be said. There are aspects of my life that I quite enjoy ... but it wasn't my dream.

And then I doubt that when/if I finally get something that I think is good, I won't get it for long. If I get married, I fear that I'll lose my husband by some means, most fearfully, that he'll die long before I'm ready for it. If I have children, I fear losing them either by them running away because I'm afraid of being a terrible parent, or like the husband fear, I'm afraid of either miscarrying a pregnancy or of some terrible accident or child predator or something taking them away from me. It's like feeling that although the life I have now is not what I imagined or dreamed of, it's at least free from the fear of loss. If I don't have the things I dreamed of, they can't be taken away or lost.

Perhaps I'm crazy. Or at least paranoid. I've been accused of it before.

Of Bridesmaid's Dresses and Self-Esteem Woes

So, I had to order my dress last week for Matt and Molly's wedding, and though I've been hitting the diet and the exercise pretty hard, I just wasn't where I wanted to be ... but still, I had to give my measurements to a complete stranger in Ohio. It didn't help that I didn't know where to measure for my waist.

I gave her my numbers, happy that I could at least check something off my "to do" list for the day ....

"You're all over our size chart. We really don't have a size for you."

"Oh?"

And then we figured out that I was measuring in the wrong place for my waist. So I re-measured. It didn't help.

"Your bust is a 10, your hips are a 12, and your waist is, like, a 14."

At that moment, I seriously considered eating every fleck of chocolate that I could find within a five-mile radius of my apartment. What did it matter? Well, I guess it matters. I'll keep up the good fight against Lucifer the Jelly Roll ... in the meantime, I had to order a size that I didn't feel was very flattering. I need to make friends with a seamstress, and soon ....

Guess it's time to go home and watch whatever shows I recorded tonight. And check on Harold.