I'm writing today from the well worn spot in my bed. A spot that has seen me in it for about 5 days now. You see, I have been diagnosed with both the flu and whooping cough. I'm feeling very proud of my choice to have the flu shot last fall as it has obviously failed me miserably, and feeling ever the confused part of "I have what?" on the pertussis claim from the doctor.
Let me tell you, it definitely tones the midriff very quickly, and helps those unwanted pounds and inches melt away in short order, but I don't recommend it as the weight loss/cardio workout plan of choice.
As for work, I feel fortunate that sequestration will take several days to take effect, so I am missing work at the "calm before the storm", and I have the most understanding colleagues.
Also fortunate for me, I have discovered a British tv series that lasted seven seasons so I will likely finish it off just in time to return to work with the "all clear, you are no longer contagious and able to spread a deadly virus across the nation" declaration.
Yes, I'm making light of what has been a very hard month. I am pretty ticked off as I'm sure most of you are with the inability of our nation's leaders to work together to resolve the deficit before the draconian rules of sequestration take effect. I am heartsad with the death yesterday of yet another dear family friend lost to cancer only one week after diagnosis; my heart continues to ache as I watch my dear friend Nancy and her family discover the painful transition of life to the 'new normal' after the loss of her handsome son, and I am clearly susceptible to the sappy emotions that hit you when you are the human host of a deadly childhood disease, and just don't feel well.
All day I have thought of our friend Denny with mixed emotions. On one hand, I feel so sorry for the two grown sons, grandchildren, and lovely wife he leaves behind. On the other hand, I can't help but feel some envy as there was just a wonderful reunion at heaven's gate between a father and son. You see, Denny lost his oldest son, Kyle, to an undiagnosed aneurysm at age 23.
Kyle was my brother's best friend and the two of them were inseparable like brothers. As a teenage girl, you can imagine how aggravating it was not only to have one stupid, little brother, but two who didn't understand the importance of looking cool for boys when they came to the house to hang out. Two immature stupid little boys who left me screaming at the top of my lungs, as they scattered giggling at their latest prank at my expense. I was so done with these two boys at one point that I swore I would never name any of my children Barry or Kyle. (I am nearly on the floor wetting myself now as I think of those days...those two little boys.)
Denny, Kyle's father, always understood the boys, and in a special way made them feel it. It was like magic, and as irritating as it was to a teenage girl, it was still magical to watch. His calming presence was something I greatly admired.
Lots to think about from a worn spot on the bed, which lends itself to way too much time to think for one's good. I could break down and lose it to tears, but I think it's just easier to throw your hands up and just laugh.
Easier to laugh at the fact that I of all people have contracted illnesses I thought I had under control, laugh at the memory of Kyle and Barry's antics which in one case ultimately led to Denny calmly arranging for them to scrub down a home, and paint the trim for their punishment. Laughing at the times when Nancy's son and Joshua would passionately bicker to get their way so much that we would send them to the basement playroom and listen to them squabble as we giggled upstairs. Laugh at the fact that every time I have gone past Joshua's room since I've been sick, his room light has inexplicably turned on...he loved to turn my light on my in the morning as a prank to wake us up.
So I will continue to cope with filling the spot on my bed, leaving messages for my mother to entertain me in my bored state, ask facebook friends to send jokes, wonder with amazement at Stephi's decision to fill her dresser drawers with "stuff" while permanently leaving her clean clothes in piles in her room. This realized today as I went into her room to find out what kind of birthday cake she wants this week....Oh, and I still have two season to watch on my British series if the cotton-pickin satellite feed would just come through the sweeping rainstorm outside.
A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones. Proverbs 17:22
In other words, when nothing else will help, you just gotta laugh!
Sending Hugs,
Sherri
Let me tell you, it definitely tones the midriff very quickly, and helps those unwanted pounds and inches melt away in short order, but I don't recommend it as the weight loss/cardio workout plan of choice.
As for work, I feel fortunate that sequestration will take several days to take effect, so I am missing work at the "calm before the storm", and I have the most understanding colleagues.
Also fortunate for me, I have discovered a British tv series that lasted seven seasons so I will likely finish it off just in time to return to work with the "all clear, you are no longer contagious and able to spread a deadly virus across the nation" declaration.
Yes, I'm making light of what has been a very hard month. I am pretty ticked off as I'm sure most of you are with the inability of our nation's leaders to work together to resolve the deficit before the draconian rules of sequestration take effect. I am heartsad with the death yesterday of yet another dear family friend lost to cancer only one week after diagnosis; my heart continues to ache as I watch my dear friend Nancy and her family discover the painful transition of life to the 'new normal' after the loss of her handsome son, and I am clearly susceptible to the sappy emotions that hit you when you are the human host of a deadly childhood disease, and just don't feel well.
All day I have thought of our friend Denny with mixed emotions. On one hand, I feel so sorry for the two grown sons, grandchildren, and lovely wife he leaves behind. On the other hand, I can't help but feel some envy as there was just a wonderful reunion at heaven's gate between a father and son. You see, Denny lost his oldest son, Kyle, to an undiagnosed aneurysm at age 23.
Kyle was my brother's best friend and the two of them were inseparable like brothers. As a teenage girl, you can imagine how aggravating it was not only to have one stupid, little brother, but two who didn't understand the importance of looking cool for boys when they came to the house to hang out. Two immature stupid little boys who left me screaming at the top of my lungs, as they scattered giggling at their latest prank at my expense. I was so done with these two boys at one point that I swore I would never name any of my children Barry or Kyle. (I am nearly on the floor wetting myself now as I think of those days...those two little boys.)
Denny, Kyle's father, always understood the boys, and in a special way made them feel it. It was like magic, and as irritating as it was to a teenage girl, it was still magical to watch. His calming presence was something I greatly admired.
Lots to think about from a worn spot on the bed, which lends itself to way too much time to think for one's good. I could break down and lose it to tears, but I think it's just easier to throw your hands up and just laugh.
Easier to laugh at the fact that I of all people have contracted illnesses I thought I had under control, laugh at the memory of Kyle and Barry's antics which in one case ultimately led to Denny calmly arranging for them to scrub down a home, and paint the trim for their punishment. Laughing at the times when Nancy's son and Joshua would passionately bicker to get their way so much that we would send them to the basement playroom and listen to them squabble as we giggled upstairs. Laugh at the fact that every time I have gone past Joshua's room since I've been sick, his room light has inexplicably turned on...he loved to turn my light on my in the morning as a prank to wake us up.
So I will continue to cope with filling the spot on my bed, leaving messages for my mother to entertain me in my bored state, ask facebook friends to send jokes, wonder with amazement at Stephi's decision to fill her dresser drawers with "stuff" while permanently leaving her clean clothes in piles in her room. This realized today as I went into her room to find out what kind of birthday cake she wants this week....Oh, and I still have two season to watch on my British series if the cotton-pickin satellite feed would just come through the sweeping rainstorm outside.
A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones. Proverbs 17:22
In other words, when nothing else will help, you just gotta laugh!
Sending Hugs,
Sherri
