Tag Archives: sick

Leggings From Hell and Other Nonsense

2 I'm a touristI blame the cold. Before I write anything else, let me make that clear. See I couldn’t stop coughing last night, so I started the night in the recliner.When I was in that recliner with the old comforter my husband’s grandma made him that he loves but I just sort of like (the comforter, not his MeMa. I liked her just fine), I thought I’d reached the low end of suckage for 24 hours. Thought. I had no idea.

It was the last day of school this semester so no way was I missing today. Not unless I spiked a 102 fever or some such nonsense.

No problem. I coughed all night, enough that my voice sounded like a lifetime smoker and my abs felt like I’d used the Pilates DVD I bought a billion years ago then promptly stuck in the movie box for use later, BUT no fever. So school was a go.

I might have felt like crap, but I figured I’d at least attempt to look good. I grabbed the new leggings I’d spent real money on instead of the shiny less than five bucks ones from Walmart.

If you’ve ever gone to battle with a pair of leggings you’ll understand my next few lines.

I tugged and pulled and jumped and hollered and swore and started sweating…and coughing…and finally wrung those stupid non-pants into submission.

I found my ancient Christmas Santa sweatshirt and pulled it on over my dress. Last day, so Santa is a must. I zipped up my boots and looked in the mirror. Yeah. Looked good. If I used my cough drops wisely, no one would guess I was actually sick.

When I sat down in the car, I should’ve understood. But no.

I ignored the strange feeling that my leggings were starting to slip. And I continued to ignore it as I made my way up the stairs to my classroom. And I continued to ignore it as I started class, but about ten minutes in ignoring it was no longer an option.

My leggings that I spent real money on looked like an old man’s long johns. The butt was sagging, the knees were somewhere around my calves, the waist barely held on to my hips.

And I couldn’t stop coughing, which only made it worse. Because I’m 45 and coughing non-stop when you’re 45 is one of the seven levels of hell on the bladder, let me tell you.

Somehow I made it through the class.

I still can’t stop coughing. The leggings I spent real money on are in the trash. This semester is over and I’m sure I’m not alone in praising Jesus for that favor. It’s kind of funny when I think about it tonight.

Those stupid, god-awful, who the heck thinks leggings should STRETCH OUT WHEN YOU’RE WEARING THEM?!, leggings are a metaphor for my year.

I’m teaching a new class. It’s a new add-on to an already crazy schedule, and instead of rolling with it, I’ve tugged and pulled and jumped and hollered and swore A LOT and started sweating and thought way too much about the loveliness of losing myself in tequila (that last one is teacher hyperbole, Ma, don’t freak out). After 21 years, I should know better. You can’t FIGHT a class. You will lose. Or at least that’s been my experience. You also can’t throw a class in the trash and say good riddance–they’re kids and they deserve a teacher, but thank God, we get do-overs next semester.

Here’s hoping for a better 2015. And a healthy 2015. I’m kind of tired of this cold. Happy holidays!

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That moment when…

I added Within Temptation to my current WIP playlist. Within Temptation is a mainstay of my Sharlene Gallagher book playlists. It instantly pulled me from the book mid-scene. Won’t do that again. Music is powerful stuff.

I’ve rushed this book. The plot is all kinds of crazy. Good thing it’s the crappy first draft. If I can whip this cold from hell into shape I can finish the first draft this weekend, I think. If I can’t whip the cold into shape I’m going to be an unhappy camper. I’ll share my unhappiness here, I’m sure.

Speaking of unhappy and cold, it’s going to be 12 here in two days. It was 80 today.

To end on a happy note, a fellow teacher gave me a GREAT gift today. I can’t wait to get it framed and hanging in my house. It’s the second gift of art I’ve gotten this week. I love my job and the people I work with. ‚̧

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Why I’m not anti-Obamacare even though I know it won’t solve all the problems

LoveToday’s my husband’s birthday. He’s 49. He’s rarely sick. He’s self-employed. He pays taxes. He makes a good living.

Several years ago the cost of adding him to my insurance quadrupled, so he got his own insurance, which he uses rarely. Over time that policy continued to escalate in price so he upped the deductible. It’s now $10,000, and he pays thousands of dollars a year for that coverage just in case. He rarely uses the insurance for anything other than a yearly physical. In fact, in over a decade, he’s used it three times, two of those last year.

Before he upped the deductible, he had a kidney stone. We thought he was having a heart attack and called an ambulance. We were young and didn’t know better. I think it was over a decade ago, but time gets fuzzy. That was the only time he used the insurance for anything other than a physical until last year’s kidney stone episode. We knew what the problem was and went to the ER on our own. The ER nurse was awesome, kind and helpful. We saw the doctor for all of 30 seconds. He told us my husband had a kidney stone and walked out. We paid over $2000 for that ER visit. Over $1000 for the 30 second doctor’s diagnosis. The trip to the urologist was cheaper.

He’s had a kidney stone since then, but he chose to self-medicate and get through it on his own instead of going to the doctor.

In the last year he’s developed reflux. Last night that reflux turned into something awful. I looked up the symptoms online and have a pretty good idea of what’s wrong. We’re going to try diet changes first. If that doesn’t work he’ll have to break down and go to the doctor. And that trip to the doctor will break us even though he has insurance. Insurance he pays an arm and a leg for. Ridiculously expensive insurance that is still cheaper than putting him on my state teacher insurance policy.

I realize Obamacare isn’t the answer, but it’s at least an attempt to fix a problem that exists with our current system.

Midweek Mom to the Rescue

In the midst of a whirlwind week, I got to be Mom again.

The call came just as I was about to head to bed at 7:45 on Wednesday. Three days and I was wiped out.

“Mom, I’m sick.”

She didn’t ask me to go riding to the rescue, but there was something in her voice. So, off I went to check this “sick kid” out.

Not sure if it was food poisoning or just a bug, but she was sick, sick, sick. When I got to her place one look and I knew she couldn’t stay there alone, so she came home with me.

When I left the house, I could barely keep my eyes open. But once she was home with me, things changed. For the first time in a long time, my baby girl needed me. So I held her and rocked her and told her it would be okay. And it was.

Today she’s back to normal. I’m glad she’s not sick anymore, but it was kind of nice being that Mom again.

close…

It’s always interesting to post after a rejection. People love to say “You’re so close.” I told my CP’s last week I never want to hear those words again. ūüôā
There’s rejected and there’s published . End of story.
Of course that’s not exactly true. There’s also writing or not. One will get you where you want to be. One will get you “what might have been, maybe…”

I cut the first scene in my ST romantic elements story last night. I added the scene when I was half way through the book. At the time I felt it was important. Now though, I realize it’s redundant. Nothing new happens. It’s an introduction of sorts and in fiction, introductions are dangerous. They slow pace. The last thing the book needed was a slower pace.

DD is sick. Our school district has this great idea to get kids to school. If students have B averages and miss no more than 2 days, they can be exempt from finals. We have great attendance rates and kids coming to school falling over sick. I hope I don’t get this!
I don’t have time!

I’m sick

I didn’t write last night. I was sick instead. ūüė¶
I have a post I want to write. It deals with sex and romance novels and God and not going to hell. UGH! People are really weird. They obviously dont know the God I know.
But I’ve got to wait to write it. I’m too chicken right now.

Stop Signs

Had a blast in NYC. Slammed into a great big stop sign the minute I got home. Not the kind you have to claim on insurance, but the kind you go to Dr. for. A round of antibiotics later and the bronchitis is still slowing me down. Talk about a bummer for Spring Break. I didn’t even get out of bed for three days. So not cool. ūüė¶
I thought all the Y workouts were shooing off the winter colds, but this one snuck in right before the deadline. Not working out is driving me crazy. Hopefully by Wednesday I’ll be able to get back on track. Maybe I’ll do Pilates tomorrow.

Got a rejection from Super today. The editor called my writing raw and powerful and gutsy (I think that was meant as a compliment), which made me super happy, and then went on to be very detailed in the reasons she was rejecting the manuscript. The reasons were so true! And while I was reading the rejection letter I was thinking to myself WHY CAN I SEE THE REASONS ARE TRUE AFTER THE FACT and not get it right before I send the books in?!!!?! UGH.

Surprisingly this rejection bounced right off me. Not sure why. Maybe because I saw the validity in the comments. Maybe because the editor was (I think) so positive in the opening of the letter before explaining why she was turning it down. Maybe it’s because it made it up the line to an editor and even says it was considered. I don’t know. I keep thinking, praying, pleading, Jesus, Please don’t let this be the closest I get to THE CALL. And that’s not exactly positive self-talk, so I should be bummed or something about this, but I’m not. I’m just accepting.
But this rejection did kind of give me a direction I hadn’t really thought of. If this editor saw one of my strengths as a gutsy rawness, then maybe that’s something I should be focusing on. Just another thing to think about as I work on my new WIP. Or rather as I think about working on my new WIP because I swear thinking about it is as close as I’m getting.