All in all, not one of my better mornings.

So this is mostly a gripe post. But then, I feel that this is gripe-worthy.

So a few days ago (Sunday), I got a blister. I really didn't think anything of it--just a blister. Not even bad enough for a band aid. I was, however, pretty concerned about my roommate, who had picked up some virus that left her exhausted, vomiting, and, at one memorable moment, convulsing on the floor.

On Monday, I noticed that my blister was really starting to hurt. Half of it was a water blister, the other half look all weird--it was probably healing already. So I sterilized a needle and very gently squished the water out. That oughta do it. Band-aid! Talked to Lu (flatmate), who still had this whatever-it-was and was actually having a relapsed that night. She said that the first time she started convulsing, she'd gotten really nauseated, then started to pass out, and then was really, really tired, and some of that was happening again. Poor Lulu!

Tuesday I'm out and about and heading for classes, and am just having a really hard time concentrating. Enough so that I finally just ditched Latin at the halfway break. Well, I told the professor that it'd been real, and then I dropped the class (ps, I did this with a lot more tact and charm than it sounds like). I went to my next class and all I could keep thinking was "My foot hurts. My foot really hurts." Afterwards, I pulled off my shoe, and lo and behold, there was a round red spot around the band aid. I had a Dr's appointment the following day anyway (to discuss allergy options, but surely we could squeeze this in), so I went to Covent Garden to meet a friend for dinner. I arrived before she did and as I was waiting, all of the sudden I was sure that I was going to throw up. Badly enough that I started looking for a secluded corner or a sewage drain. In the fresh air that started to pass, but then I was sure that I was going to pass out. I started edging towards the security guards, so they'd take care of me when I did. My friend showed up, we started walking to dinner and I thought "Maybe it's just PMS. After all, my legs are kinda shaky, too, and that's usually a sign."  Had a lovely dinner with her, but right at the end I got tired. TIRED. We parted ways and I barely made it home. I know I went into the bathroom. I know I meant to wash my face. I have no idea if I did it. All I remember was suddenly thinking that I was so tired that it really didn't matter whether or not I had. The only thing I really focused on was washing my foot, because it still hurt and I was worried that it might get infected. This all happened at 8:15pm. I texted my roommate and passed out immediately.

At 2:30 Wednesday morning I woke up because my foot HURT. I tried to move it, or get my mind off it, but it just hurt way too bad. At 3:00 I decided to go to the restroom and had to hop and slink down the banisters so I wouldn't put any pressure on that foot. At 4am I went downstairs and called Medical Advice to see if there was something that I should be doing for my foot. She told me to go to my GP and tell them that I needed to be seen within 24 hours, because it did sound like my foot was infected. I made myself something to eat and then remembered--fasting blood test that morning. I went back upstairs and tried to rest, but I had to be up early anyway for an appointment made weeks ago with a stomach specialist at St. Bart's Hospital. When I got back into bed, I flopped backwards and yelped because it hurt my hip. At 6, when my roommate woke up, she said that she'd read my text last night and it sounded like I'd got what she had (which, by the way, no one knows what it is. The ER that she went to after convulsing told her simply "a virus"). She was attempting to go to work for the first time in a week or so. When I showed her my foot, she said I shouldn't leave the hospital without getting someone to look at it. She left shortly afterwards which is when I attempted to get dressed. Setting my foot on the floor, however, made me scream. I had to put my pants on with one leg resting on the bed. Putting my sock on was an experience not to be repeated, and when I finally hobbled downstairs, I couldn't put my shoe on for 10 minutes. I'm glad that none of my other roommmates were home, because it probably sounded like I was being stabbed. I limped to the bus station, where (naturally) my bus came right before I got there, and then not again for 20 minutes. The bus was packed full, but I had to keep my foot up to keep from dying. About halfway there I wanted to jump out and tell somebody to call me an ambulance. And then vomit. Somehow, I held on until my stop, which was unfortunately still a 10 minute walk away. Then I realized that I wasn't going anywhere on that foot. I finally did call 999, and explained how I was unable to reach the hospital, and they told me that since I wasn't life-threatening, no one would come for an hour or so and I was much better off taking a cab.

I called up a cab company and when I said I needed to go to St Bart's hospital, and he said "That's where you want to go?". Really, what kind of person tosses out the name of a hospital and then is like "Psych! Naw, I want a tea shop."?! He more or less refused to send me a cab because he said I could catch a black and white and it would be quicker. So as I'm desperately trying to stay upright, I hobble out to the curb and wait for 15 minutes until a free cab comes by. Of course, he only takes cash, so we have to do a loop to a cash machine, where I hobble out to get enough to pay him. He did at least drop me as close as he could. Incredibly long walk to Minor Injuries Reception, and no one's there. Finally I threw caution to the wind and decided to get to my appointment first, because the doctor's booked a month in advance. I removed my shoe, and limped across the building, the courtyard, and to an elevator that actually worked. When I got in the technician told me that the doctor was out sick that day, so we'd just take some blood and then I'd get a letter when he could see me again. When he asked me if I fainted at the sight of blood I said yes, just so I could lie down. Since I'd been fasting, my veins were moving at a snail's pace. That, however, gave me time to show him my foot and after that he called a wheelchair for me back to Minor Injury.

I finally got in to see the nurse and he said that since this was an Injury Unit they couldn't do anything about the possible virus, but that yes, my foot was infected, and was currently spreading up my leg, causing the hip (or lymph) pain that I'd been experiencing. He then offered to draw around the red part of my foot, because if it spreads I will need further attention, stat. For now, he gave me a dose of codeine and paracetamol (the British answer for whatever ails you), told me to rest with my foot iced and elevated for at least 48 hours, and gave me 2 different types of antibiotics. One is to be taken 3 times a day and the other 4, and to be taken on an empty stomach only, because food interferes with them (*Side Note: when I worked this out at home, I realized that this means that I can eat only between 10-11am, 2-3pm, 6-7pm, and 10pm-7am). I told him that I was fasting already so I might as well take them now. Then he wheeled me to the hallway so I could call a cab. When the cab arrived, he kept telling me to come out, but finally came in to get my wheelchair and took it to the car. Another cash-only cab, he told me that we'd stop on the way if I could manage it.

About 10 minutes in I realized that I was going throw up. Immediately. So I told him to stop, stop, pull over, pull over and then GOING TO VOMIT! which got his attention. I opened the door and he screamed "Not in the car!", which fyi, was the reason I told him to stop. Just when I had about finished, he told me that the company didn't like "people like this" in the cars, but there was a pharmacy just ahead, so I could go there and get a cab. He ripped my coat, purse and shoe out of the backseat and handed them to me, so I could walk a block to the pharmacy and get him his ("we'll just call it") 10 pounds. Luckily, the paracetamol was taking effect by this time. I got into the pharmacy looking like death served cold, and told the pharmacist that I was sick and my cab had just kicked me out, so could he call me another one and let me buy something so I could get cash back to pay the driver? The guy jumped on the phone, and gave me my cash back, so cab driver #1 could get out of there (he'd driven up and then came in), and then offered me a chair so I could wait until the car came. As we started driving (and after I'd gotten a second batch of cash out for this guy) I told him that I didn't mean to sound like a 3 year old, but I was having a rough morning, and how far away were we? I ended up telling him the whole story, and he was appropriately indignant about the other guy (and I'm just sayin, it's not like I threw up in the car. Rude.). Out of gratitude, I didn't puke my guts up again until after I was dropped off, even though we got caught on a 15 minute detour.

I made it home by 12. All of that managed to happen in the am. Really, not one of my better mornings.

Tangents

Here's how I feel about verbal tangents: when you're just sitting around enjoying a good chat, a tangent is like taking a leisurely stroll in the woods, and wandering down a small path. Why not? It's just as lovely here as on the path. Maybe more so. When you have something important to tell me, its like watching a tv drama: 

Friend: "Oh! I have something I need to to tell you!"

(Detective: "We've identified the missing woman.")

Friend: "It was crazy! So this woman walked into the store..."

(Detective: "And our jane doe is ...")

Friend: "Oh and today my boss was wearing the same sunglasses as my friend Nina!"

(Announcer: "Come on down to Mattressland!")

Friend: "...such a coincidence!..."

(Announcer: "Eat it up! Eat it up! Here at Moe's you'll eat it up!") 

Friend: "...and then she couldn't return them!... 

(Announcer: "those embarrassing itches...") 

Friend: "but getting back to the point, she got arrested!"

(Detective: "Andrea Wheeler.")

Me: "I don't remember why I cared..."

Potty Lessons

Well, I'm a nanny and for my kids, lately it's all been about the potty.

D's big news is that he can now pee standing up! It's a great moment for him. Meanwhile, while we were discussing the bathroom, his sister turned to me and said "Mommy doesn't like pee on her floor". All I could respond was "Well, that's fair." Getting to the potty in time is a big issue in this house...for both of them.

Meanwhile, H is just learning to use the potty, so he likes to sit on it, but just as a nice place to read.  If I ask him what it's name is, he says "poo-poos". And yet it's still his favorite place to store his toys...

Lastly, Liz's family came over to pick up her bed and stuff, and after their young daughter used the potty, she told me "the toilet is the right place to pee". Seems that her family had been camping quite a bit this summer, and she was starting to believe that peeing in trees/jars was perfectly normal. They're starting a retraining program with her.

As a side note, I used to hate it when people told me to "go potty before we leave" because it sounded so babyish. Now when I ask people where the restroom is, it comes out something like "where's the po...oh...um...toilet."

Things I Don't Want To Think About

You'd think that NOT talking about things would make them better, wouldn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. As they say, what hasn't begun can never end. Besides, I find that expressing myself usually helps. So, the list features:

-I feel really jiggly because I've been gorging myself for a week.

-My tv is now on its way to Utah as payment for fostering my cat.

-My roommate is now her way to Utah because she wants she see this guy that's she marrying in 2 weeks.

-A rather long time ago, I drilled 2 rather large holes in the wall to hold the tv, before remembering that tv mounts and indeed, screws of any kind, are specifically mentioned in my contract in the "You May NOT" section. I now am staring at those 2 holes.

-I need to find a buyer for my car (and hopefully not one who's going to turn out to be the next Craigslist killer).

-I'm going to have to clean this place top to bottom in a month.

-I'm going to need to dispose of all my stuff with the month (including some things that I like but just don't have room for).

-Shoes, my poor shoes...

-I need to find a roommate/place to live where I won't a) go crazy or b) drive anybody else crazy.

See now? Getting all those out made me see the nice things clearer. It's great to have a good vent.

This is our happy song.

After all the blah, I wanted to update you all about something happy. But nothing snarky and/or blog-worthy came to me. So I'm just going to tell you all, I saw "Mirror, Mirror" (PS. anybody else find it a little ironic that Julia Roberts also starred in a movie whose soundtrack includes "Mirror, Mirror"? Anyone? Yeah, it's "Pretty Woman"). 

And:

a) Julia Roberts (aka her accent) was not always as bad as I expected.

b) It was a fun kid's movie, with a couple of little boy humor moments I could've done without (though apparently the larva are a real thing, beauty treatment-wise. Ew.).

c) They do a full-on Bollywood song and dance number at the end. Don't get me wrong, I think more movies should burst into song, but it was very unexpected given the lack of anything musical throughout the film.

I seem to be all about the fairy tales these days. Then again, so is Hollywood and everywhere else. As Once Upon a Time says "To believe in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing."

Speaking of which, I LOVE the show "Once Upon a Time". I also, at times, violently hate the writers. Every time a teeny little good thing happens something horrible happens just to crush you!! And, just in case you are the writers and you happen to Google yourselves and this comes up, just know this: Getting Snow and Charming back together would be nice. Getting Rumpelstiltskin and Belle back together is crucial. Maybe it's because David is just so darn unlikable now. Or maybe it's because Rumpel has the most compelling storyline of the plot. One way or another, make it so! P.S. I really do love your show. Despite the fact that you're a little bit sadistic.

Zoloft and Paxil and Buspar and Xanax...

So, in case you haven't heard, my throat started swelling until it pretty much closed. They checked for strep, which it wasn't, so they gave me some Prednisone and told me to go home. It's helping (breathing neither hurts nor is difficult anymore) but adding 3 pills to my daily routine made me look back and realize how many meds I'm on.

There are good and bad things about being on meds. 

Bad things include: 

     When I go on a trip, I spend so much time making sure I have every one of my meds that I usually forget something pivotal, like my contacts...

     Just one more thing to remember to do morning and night.

     If I forget them, even for one day, I'll start getting nervous and angsty without knowing why (until I remember).

     They're a big expense EVERY MONTH (at least mine are).

     Sometimes they make me feel broken.

     Some people have very bad reactions to hearing about them (avoidance, gossiping, thinking you're crazy or asking you when you're going to be "healed").

Good things include:

     My body is now incapable of retaining excess salt! (No bloating for me :D )

     In fact, the only electrolyte my body can retain is potassium, which, since I hate the evil bananas, is a good choice!

     When I'm having a really bad day, I put on sunglasses and a head scarf, swig those pills back and pretend that I'm Bette Davis.

     They work. More often than not.

     To expound: They help me to feel like a normal person. If I'm freaking out, I know I have them.

     I can feel proud of myself for solving problems without using them. And being proud of yourself for NOT doing something is great! No physical effort required.

    

I heard that it usually takes 19 years for a person with OCD to get the proper help. My first cognizant symptom was when I was 3 years old. I realized that something was not normal and I was not okay when I was 16. I got diagnosed when I was 21. I got medication when I was 25. I'm still working on the exact science today.

If you think you might have mental health issues, just know that my way took much too long. You're not the only one. And I find it very freeing to be able to put a name to the problem.

Sometimes I can be very difficult because of my illness. For example, I will freak out if you say "I'm so OCD!" like it's only people who like neatness. Sometimes, something small you do or say will activate one of my triggers and I will be rude because my OCD's telling me that there is a threat. I may say something, or I may just have to leave immediately. Sometimes I will write you emails/call you to apologize for something ridiculous after a long time, because I've decided that I mishandled it, or was in some other way wrong. In fact, sometimes when I'll apologize, it'll sound like I was making everything up before, because I'm judging myself so harshly that I don't want to leave anything (even a passing thought) out. Change is hard for me. Even taking a vacation can be difficult. Working on somebody else's schedule can be hard for me. I will get strangely upset and sentimental about things that really shouldn't be that important when I feel like I'm losing control of a situation.

I appreciate your support and friendship. It's made me so happy even when I wasn't able to show it in a way you understood. I appreciate concessions you make for the things that I'm dealing with, even if you don't really understand those things. I especially appreciate those of you who have talked to me about your own issues so I know I'm not a total weirdo.

So apparently not sharing every moment of your life on a public forum is "secretive"

So yes, I am sort of dating somebody. I'm going to transcribe our DTR for you, since it will maybe shed some light on the subject:

Me: "So when people ask me what we are, I don't know what to tell them."
Him: "I tell them 'We are what we are'".
Me: "I like it!"

Seriously.

Won't you take me to...

D (undisclosed child I'm sitting for) and I pass our days in an odd variety of ways. Most recently, with a Wii. Who knew that Wii Fit Kids could send me limping up the stairs for days? Today we started Wii Dance. D had a very specific song he wanted to dance to. Here's how it went:

D: "No, go that way..."

Me: "This one?"

D: "No, keep going..."

Me: "This one?"

D: "No, go back..."

Me: "Wait. Funkytown?"

D: "Yeah! Funkytown."

I think he actually beat me at this one, which I try to make sure happens fairly regularly. I do all of our sports/dances/games with my left hand...badly. But it's easier to let him win when we're playing games by hand. From what I gather, his older sister trumps him pretty soundly at everything, so I think that he needs to win when she's gone (of course, I could also be hindering his progress by metaphorically "breaking the shell open for him", but that's another discussion). When we're playing Candyland, all I have to do is stack the deck while he's moving his piece. But with Wii, I have to dance without moving half my body, which means he thinks he should do it too.

Here's how big of a girl I am, by the way. His sister has those Disney fairies that they just came out with to go with the new Tinkerbell stories. I LOVE them. My very first day, I brought them into "Oscar's Trash Can Game" (filling up a box with everything in the toy room) and since then we've played with them every day. Oddly enough, right before I started with D, I saw a picture of my cousin putting a tiny green shoe on a fairy for his daughter and thought how sweet it was of him! And I was delighted when I found that the shoes on our fairies came off too! Trouble is, they come off everywhere, all the time. They stick in the drum set and get lost in the Potato Heads. If they were his, I wouldn't mind so much, but his sister is the type to cry if a shoe gets lost. I say this, because I know I would if they were mine.

Being such a girl, I was unprepared for boy games. Games like screaming an alarm noise at the top of your lungs and "The Volcano's going to get you!"or getting eaten time after time by an airplane. My repertoire of mechanical noises has doubled.

Lastly, a few days ago we were playing and D said "Where are the fairies? I'm going to have them for dinner." Since he loves play-cooking and has even made me pancakes on occasion, I said "If you're having dinner with them it's to dinner, and if you're eating them, it's for dinner." He grinned up at me and said "Yeah. FOR dinner."

Job!

For those of you wondering how I was living without any form of income, I can now happily say, I have a job. As a nanny. It's very part time, but the mom told me that she'd pass my info on, and I've got other kumquats on the fire anyhoo (not to say I wouldn't accept more kumquats if you've got any handy).

I'm only looking after 1 kid (4 year old), who seems super sweet, and the parents seem remarkably sane. Like people I'd talk to if I ever got out. And now that I'm working there, I'm really glad that I nice to their elderly neighbor who got all upset about my parking!

So, yay for me. Glitter and confetti to follow.

Decisions

So, I suppose now's the time to catch y'all up on my life for real.

The reason I haven't been writing is because I was planning on quitting my job, and I really couldn't say anything about my life without mentioning that. But, we are now done, I have not only put in my notice, but also finished my 2 weeks. Since most of you already know why, I won't rehash too much, but suffice it to say that my boss and I are still on good terms, but it just seemed like time to move on. After all, it had been 3 years.

Now I'm looking for something to keep me solvent until August when I get to move to LONDON! I applied to the University of Nottingham and King's College London in 2 programs. And as much as I love Nottingham (I mean, it's NOTTINGHAM) I realized that the program was just not suited to me. Which is really a shame, because it's about 65% cheaper to live in Nottingham compared to London. I applied to KCL in Medieval Studies and Theatre Studies because I want to continue on to Dramaturgy (history for theatre)/theatre museums and eventually teaching. I'm still waiting to hear on Nottingham (they just received the last of my documents), but I interviewed today with the Theatre program, and I was accepted to the Medieval Studies! I feel pretty strongly towards the Medieval Studies, first because it's an excellent program, and secondly because the head of the department went to so much effort to get to know me. If she's willing to put this much time into a candidate, I know I'll have a great support system there. The Theatre department was a) impressed and interested by my application (I believe the word "captivating" was bandied about) but b) focuses in on a theory of theatre that doesn't mesh as much with what I've done before. Liability or asset?


If you know me well, then the answer to your next question is, no, I'm not taking him with me. As much as I would love taking Nigel with me (to the point that I even got him ready for his kitty passport), I realized that I need to be focusing on school, and I'll feel horrible if I leave him alone in a tiny, dark flat all day. Luckily, Liz, my roomie, has agreed to keep him. I'm so happy that they love each other. After all, she doesn't flail about in her sleep, so he actually gets to stay on the bed with her.


So yay. Everything's out in the open now. I like feeling like I can talk about things. Especially since I talk so much regardless.

I get kissed by a "little person"; or, "Down Home Country 2"

So I went back to the country, aka Ninety-Six, SC. My roomie and I both had a weekend off, so we decided to relax. Good news! No more cicadas!!!! The locust are gone!!!!!!!! I got to swing on the tree swing!!

We arrived Saturday night and spent the evening eating, talking and watching Connie & Carla. If you haven't seen it , I highly recommend it. As Liz's mom said, it was the best laugh she'd had in a long time.

Then next morning we went to church a little early because we were singing in the choir. Yes that's right, we were singing. In. The. Choir. They needed help and apparently the choir director heard Liz was coming home for the weekend. So when we got there, remember how I said last time that everybody descended on Liz? This time, I got included. Everybody remembered me too, so I got the same "How have you been?", "What have you been up to?", "It's so good to see you again!". On the way in this sweet little woman grabbed me and went for the mouth, but I turned at the last moment. This would say "kissed by a midget" but apparently that's an offensive term. But calling them "little people", like a leprechaun, is apparently correct and kind. I guess that's just the way it is. And to be honest, I don't think she was a little person. She was just hobbit-sized.

That afternoon we also went to Star Fort, and me being me, I jumped into the middle of the ruins. Well, site. The part that I found the funniest is that the British were stuck inside, surrounded by Rebs, while there was a perfectly lovely settlement of the Britisher's families not half a mile away. How strange would it have been to be that close but have it be like different worlds? And points for the Southerners for not just attacking the villagers and then picking off the British one by one as they came out that ridiculously tiny door.

I got to meet a lot of Liz's nieces and nephews. Now, with 5 nieces of my own, I'm pretty used to hearing "What does the kitty say?" or "How does the piggy talk?" but until I went down there, I've never heard those followed up by "How does the gator go?" Among the family were Liz's super Southern sister-in-law and retinue, with the cutest Southern manners I've ever seen. For example, Hayden, 5ish I think, turned to her aunt and said "Carrie, may I have a glass of water please?" Her mother immediately turned and said "What did you just say?!" to which her daughter immediately replied "Miss Carrie, may I have a glass of water please?". Those kids are raised right. Apparently, however, I wasn't, since after forgetting Hayden's name I said "Oh, little one...Ginger!" Her mother fixed me with the steeliest gaze I'd ever seen and said solemnly "I forgive you. Once."

I must say, I'm enjoying my Country spice, even though I keep seeing more of the things that remind me that I know nothing out here.

My Christmas Vacation by Lisa

You know how in school, whenever you came back from a holiday you had to write an essay about it? My Easter Vacation, My Summer Vacation, My Best Birthday Ever. Well, here's mine, but unlike in school, i get to use pictures.

My Christmas vacation was awesome. It was the best ever because first of all, i didn't have to go school. I mean work. Also, i got to see my cousins who i almost never get to see. Never. And i got to see my cousin's son, my...second cousin? He gave me my first palm frond rose ever. He had it made at a party. I'd bet he's going to be a real charmer when he hits High School.

 And I have to say, I know that there are lots of you who think that I can't cook. I know that I joke about it, but the truth is, I can. And pretty well. I'm not a everyday cooker, and I'm not great at creating family meals, but I can do amazing things. Take for instance, at my cousin's house. My lovely cousin Karen has a strict no hassle policy for holiday cooking so there were no sweet ingredients in the house, except: yellow cake mix, can of cream cheese frosting, spray bottle of white cookie icing, multi-tube of sprinkles. One train-set cake pan later, I had this:

The cake overflowed a bit, so we made those into mountains. Then, after dying the icing red, green and brown (okay, chocolate, not dye), I made the mountains and let Zach decorate the trains.

That thing on the side is a house. And while you can't see it, we covered the whole thing with white sugar sprinkles as snow. I also made Whoopie cookies, though those came with a mix as well. There was no powdered sugar for the icing though, so I filled them with Cool Whip and froze them.

So yes, this is the moment I say "HA. SO can cook."

Also got to see my other cousin's baby. I think they'll need to buy one of those automatic vacuums to keep her busy when the new one come :)

 Finally, one of the biggest reasons that this Christmas vacation was AWESOME was because I got accepted into Grad School. In fact, I spent quite some time discussing my desperation with my cousin Scott--worrying that I'd never get in, and become a sad, pathetic, educational institution-stalker, who would throw everyone with a degree out of my mini-mart from sheer jealously. As soon as Scott left, I went up to check my email and I had a letter from the head of the Department of English Language & Literature saying that she was offering me a spot in the Medieval Studies program. I immediately ran downstairs to my cousin Jerry, who was taking a football nap after staying up til 4am working, and screamed "Hug me! Hug me!" all the way to tackling him on the couch. He looked pretty scared until I explained what was going on, at which point he picked me up and yelled with me. It's nice to have people to celebrate with you.

Christmas day was wonderful, with lots of presents sent from home, and lots from Sceth and Kerry (Scott/Beth, Jerry/Karen). I got my first tea steeper ever, with the loose tea and everything, and I got chocolate hand lotion. Actually, they pretty much bought out Ulta.

So that is why my Christmas vacation was awesome. I hope for lots of more awesome times with my fam and friends. The End. (And yes, I did include that at the end of all my essays)