Monday Miscellany (Of Sinuses, Stories, and Spring)

As I sit here sipping my coffee this morning, I thought I'd jot down a few of my rambled a.m. thoughts ...

-- Can we say "relapse?" This virus is relentless. Yesterday I felt quite good -- extremely tired, but OK nonetheless. It was the right decision to stay home from church, relax with the kids, play Candyland. By last evening, I was feeling fine -- so fine, in fact, I did something incredibly stupid. I watched the entire broadcast of the Oscars. I just couldn't help myself -- complete indulgence. I'm ridiculously drawn to the gowns, probably because I was a huge Cinderella fan in my childhood and haven't quite lost that flair for fairy tales. Sparkling jewels, elaborate gowns ... can't resist it. I wasn't even that connected to the films this year -- I hadn't seen a single one that was up for Best Picture, and I can't say I'm even remotely interested in seeing any of them. But still -- I was sucked in ... and went to bed very late. But then ...

-- ... when I woke up I thought I was going to die. My head had doubled in size, my sinuses ready to explode. My left temple had been pierced by a flaming awl; a poker had been stuck deep into my left ear. How had all of that happened while I slept? The pain was (is) horrible. My equilibrium is off, so it's been difficult moving around this morning. I immediately took more Tylenol Sinus, plus an extra regular Tylenol chaser, in a desperate attempt to get rid of this. Sinus infection? Ear infection? Both? This is far worse than the run-of-the-mill flu ...

-- Am I the only person on the planet who does not like "The Kite Runner"? I started reading it, after hearing rave reviews. I thoroughly liked "A Thousand Splendid Suns," Khaled Hosseini's second offering, so I figured -- and was told as much -- that I would love this one even more. I got halfway through, and my goodness -- I don't think I can finish it. I hate it!

-- After a year and a half of playing Candyland and working on Aidan's issues with competitiveness (or more specifically: losing), he still can't lose without freaking out with hysterical tears. Ugh.

-- Deeply struggling at the moment with why being faithful to God's calling seems to inherently require significant loss. I'm working on the "Trust Me" message -- a daily discipline, to be sure -- but I can't seem to shake the fact that by moving forward, something special and dear must be lost. I'm sure that's over-simplifying this, but that seems to be how it plays out. Sometimes that seems to harder than the trusting part.

-- Thoroughly enjoying the HBO series, Big Love ... but I must say, this is by far one of the most exhausting shows to watch! Even more so than The Sopranos -- "Who's gonna get whacked today?" is trumped by "How can this man juggle 3 wives, Compound Crazies, the weaving of intricate webs of deceit, lies, outmaneuvering one another, secrecy (for fear of exposure), and so on" ... I'm hooked, but boy, I need a sound sleep after watching an episode.

-- I do not like NYC cops. They're unforgiving; they lack understanding. OK -- perhaps that's unfair, to make such a sweeping judgment, but one particular cop falls into that category. Don was working in Manhattan a few days ago and the traffic was horrible. The pushy drivers around him were edgy; they boxed him out and he found himself wedged out into the middle of the intersection. The light turned red. He had nowhere to go -- the people in front him zipped away; the people behind him couldn't/wouldn't back up. He was utterly stuck. He heard a knock on the window. A cop just so happened to be there. He saw the whole thing yet refused to hear Don's plea. "Too bad," he said, as he handed Don a $115 ticket. "Now you'll just know better for next time." Soooooo wrong.

-- It's official now: I am 100% ready for spring. Today -- if my head pain disappears -- my goal is to take down the rest of the winter-themed decorations on my front porch and outside. I have found myself on more than one occasion staring blankly out the back kitchen window, only to realize that my gaze was scoping the barren gardens, wondering what we should plant this year. Yesterday afternoon I sat in the living room, reading through one of my garden books, harvesting some new ideas. I need height this year in various spots, and variation. I'm ready to see color again; I'm ready to sit on the glider on our patio; I'm ready to have the kids play outdoors. Yes, I am so very, very ready for spring.

I'm tired now -- it doesn't take much lately. Time to sign off, get back to the laundry, and see what else I can tackle today without falling over. Hope your Monday is a beautiful one!