July 8, 2003

Because I am likely contagious.  I am the sickest piece of crap on the planet right now.  OK, I probably am not the very sickest on the planet, but I'm definitely the sickest one in this house.  Recapping:

Friday:  A very nice day.  Eric was super cuddly all day and didn't have to work (drumming up business) for once.  Josh called Thursday night and said he was on his way home for a visit (?!) and he had arrived around 1am, so we spent the day together.  David came over in the afternoon and Eric and I went out for a soda together to get some nonkid time.  Later that night, we all went to the mall to see the fireworks.  They started very late, which made the kids a bit restless, but they slept as soon as we got home. 

Saturday:  Dylan's 6th birthday.  He had a good day and was happy with the presents I got for him from e-bay (stuffed Ninja Turtles and a Shredder figure) and the one David got him, which was this:

  Hulk Hands!  They are huge hands that you bang together to make Hulk sounds.  Very cute.  We went to the Animal Planet Expo at the park and were bored brainless.  I'd hoped to cop a little of Jeff Corwin or Steve Irwin, but instead, it was all local people.  It was OK to people watch and see the man who had to gall to wear a shirt that said, "I love animals... they're delicious."  Also saw a bonafied crack whore, which was interesting.  A woman had two daughters who looked just like a young Chelsea Clinton in a really spooky way.  A man and woman did a trained dog show that was really bad and terribly boring, but the guy ripped a gigantic hole in his khaki shorts and it was great fun to watch and see if anything would fall out.  If you learn nothing else about me from the things I write, know that I am very, very easily amused. 

We left the expo after about an hour (or a day, which is what it felt like) and went home to get ready for Chuck E. Cheese.  I'd saved back $20 to get a pizza and 28 tokens for the kids, then we could share a drink since they have unlimited refills.  Josh, his friend Alex and David went with us and they handled the kids and helped them have a blast with the games.  It was great.  Got home around 8-9 and the kids went to sleep.  We took Dave home and I went to bed feeling sick.  I'd been having a cough for a couple of days and I could feel it seeping into my chest and going all systemic, so I thought some rest would help.

Sunday:  I woke up dead.  My head weighed about 45 pounds and speaking of pounds, it was pounding.  My cough was in my chest and I was weak as a kitten.  Zero energy.  Josh had to go back to Fortuna, so we saw him off and I went back to bed.  Eric took care of the house and kids and I laid in bed.  At some point, we watched Spiderman.  Hadn't seen it yet and it was good.  I drifted through some of it. 

Monday:  Sleep was rocky through Sunday night and I woke up Monday feeling worse than on Sunday.  I thought of what a doctor once told me, "If you come to the doctor for cold meds, you'll be better in about a week.  If you don't, it'll take up to seven days."  Karen says, "Three days coming, three days here and three days going."  That sounds about right.  Yesterday was total hell.  Eric refused to get up with the kids and I could hear crashing and yelling in the house.  I dragged out of bed, rolling along the wall to the living room to try and restore order.  I couldn't stop crying, I felt so damned sick.  He finally got up around 9, thanked me for letting him sleep and said that it made sense since my coughing had kept him awake and he'd gotten almost no sleep, he has to go out into the world and try to find work and I get to "lay around and do nothing all day."  That made me cry more.  He got frustrated and angry for me for not being well yet and for needing him at home, so he left in a not very nice mood.  Most of the day is a blur and I don't remember hardly anything.  He got home I think around 3 or maybe 4, I don't know.  He grilled steaks and took care of the kids while I slept some more.  The kids lived through the day... that's all that matters.  The rest just swims in some deep lake below memory.  I know I had to start wearing pads at some point during the day because I was coughing so hard I had to keep changing my clothes over and over. 

Tuesday:  The coughing is incredibly intense and for some of the coughs, there's a matrix of pain that lights up in my chest, little tiny but brilliant explosions of pain in about a 6 x 6 grid across my chest.  My breaths have little squeaks after them, which is irritating as hell.  I'm coughing up lots of stuff and I keep saying that every time I do, I'm getting better.  The muscles of my ribcage and abdomen are so sore from coughing.  Maybe I'll tone up a bit.  Tylenol for the pain.  I have to really focus to stay awake and if I close my eyes for even a few seconds, I start to drift away.  I can feel this is definitely the day #3 of "three days here," so I figure I'll be better tomorrow.  I'm probably better today, but feel too yucky for it to register.  I'm just not good at this sick thing.  My mom had it down to an artform.  Thankfully, the kids are being decent.

I did manage to finish reading the book, "Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood" by Rebecca Wells, which was so very wonderful.  I loved the movie (and I don't like chick movies as a rule) and was eager to read the book.  Now I want to get "Little Altars Everywhere" to add to the story.  The book, coupled by my re-embracing of country music and bluegrass in the past year, plus my mom dying, plus my devotion to the movie "O Brother, Where Art Thou," have all worked together to bring me to the monumental decision to let flow with my southern accent.  I've worked hard to suppress it for years now, first because Paul's family (my first husband) used to make fun of me for it and then because when I began teaching Lamaze classes (which I taught for 17 years), people took me more seriously if I spoke without the accent.  I trained myself to speak without any kind of accent for the most part, with it coming out only when drunk or horny or angry (and I try not to be any combination of those things at once).  Now I feel like I'm denying my heritage just to keep from being judged by others who aren't from the south.  Screw 'em.  I want my voice back.  I know I won't have to work for it to flow back.  I just have to unlock the door.  It feels good to bring back this part of myself.

Speaking of the south, Joe (my son), was telling me that they are making a new movie of the TV show, "Dallas."  I was always a big fan of Dallas, having read the book and watched every episode at least once.  I watched Dynasty a bit, but not like Dallas.  The cast is incredible.  JR is played by Bruce Willis, which is a perfect choice (supposedly he beat out John Travolta for the role).  I hear he lobbied hard for it and I'm really, really glad.  Sue Ellen will be played by Jessica Lange, which I see as a bit old, but I guess it'll work.  At least it's not Cybil Shepard.  Colin Farrell is lined up to play Bobby.  No other casting info is given and it's not expected to show up for a good long time.

Nothing else has much changed.  Eric and his partners are still working on getting the contract for a housing project that is breaking ground on August 1st.  (Ha ha, first day of harvest.  Can't argue with that!)  They were in the right place at the right time and it's looking good, but so far, no work, to speak of in the meantime.  We've been able to step on a stone every time it's looked like we were going in the deep end, so I'm just going to keep treading water and expecting the best.  If the best indicator of future behavior is past behavior, then I have no reason to believe we're going to fall.  If it looks desperate, that's just my fears and filters clouding what is there.  As long as there is at least some food in the house, there *is* a house, there's power and hot water in said house and my computer works, I've got NO cause for complaints, no matter how scary the future looks when I wake up in the night and think about it without psyching myself up first.  If life has taught me anything, it's that everything can turn on a dime and in a day, your whole life can be different, for the better or the worse.  With those kinds of odds at work, why should we not believe that the miracle, or a huge bag of them, isn't right around the corner, just waiting for a particularly beautiful sunrise or a sigh wielded with just the perfect weight to kick it into action.  :)  *sigh*  OK, I guess that wasn't the right configuration.  lol

For now, my miracle is that I'm going to go crawl up onto the couch, pull my big blanket over me and drift away, keeping one ear open for madness from the kids.  There's more to tell, like the beautiful box of piggie figurines that a friend sent me and the gifts Josh gave me the last time he was here that I keep forgetting to give you, but for now, I need to rest.  My hubby is home and the offer of bed is on the table, so I'm taking him up on it.

Much love!