I've been turning, tuning, and drop drop dropping...*

So I've been feeling mentally AWOL lately. This has been going on for a while now. I'm back to doing some serious introspection. Oh, there's some fun stuff going on in the deep dark recesses of my little brain. And what do you know, there are some corners in there that I have neglected. Neglected for far too long. God, I hate looking in there.

You know, sometimes I cook something for dinner and it's just okay. Or maybe even a little less than okay. But for some reason, I store the leftovers in the refrigerator anyway. You know, just because. I made them, I should keep them, right? And they get pushed to the back of the refrigerator. And neglected. Have you ever seen what happens to neglected leftovers in the back of a refrigerator? It is not pretty, my friends. Not. Pretty.

So, this is my brain. And this is my brain with moldy leftovers. What to do? How do I get rid of the moldy leftovers? I thought I had dumped them in the trash, but somehow, the stench has remained. Or maybe there are still more leftovers that I missed before. I dunno. I've been looking by myself and I can't figure it out.

Okay, I'm not making much sense. I know, I'm rambling...give me a break - it's 1:00 am and I've been keeping this stuff bottled up for a while. Have I mentioned how utterly sick I am of worrying that I'm sick? The problem with being sick in the head is that you have to wonder if the thoughts you are having about being sick in the head are being altered because you might be sick in the head. Know what I mean? Ha ha! Hee hee! Ho ho!

Here's the deal. I have issues. To paraphrase a friend, I've got an entire subscription (she actually was not talking about me, but it fits). I like to think I'm pretty independent and smart and capable. And I don't like to ask for help. That's just a sign of weakness or stupidity or naivete. You know, for me. Other people can ask for help, that's cool. They can even ask me for help. They aren't stupid. Just me. If I ask for help. No, it doesn't make sense. Remember? Issues. However, I'm asking for help now. It took me having a minor breakdown after reading a book to bring up some of those issues. It took several weeks of trying to work through these issues in my head to bring me to the conclusion that they just aren't going to go away on their own and it's time to ask for help. It took two more weeks to bring myself to tell my husband that I want to ask for help. It took one more week after that to make the first call to get some help. It took three more days before I tried again (you would think that when you call to ask for help that the people whose job it is to help you would be a little more understanding about how hard it is to call and ask for help one time and would respond appropriately without making you call and ask a SECOND TIME). That was a week ago. I have two more weeks until I actually get to meet with someone in person and start purging the moldy leftovers. I hope they have some really strong cleaner.
*

And pay and pay...and pay

Well, if I needed some clear indication that life as a consultant who travels most of the time is not for me, I've got it now. I have been in Chicago for the last couple of days at a conference. The conference was great. Hotel room awesome (Seriously - a television built into the mirror in the bathroom. My amazement at that made me feel like a total hick.), comfy bed, wonderful pillows...and today I came home.

Let's think back to when I went to San Diego back in April...remember? Yep, they all got sick and I had the guilt and then I had to take care of them and baby them and not complain about it because I had been enjoying myself in sunny Cali-forn-i-a while they were feverish and achy and sweating and feeling crappy - and Steve also had to take care of the sickly kids. So guess what happened while I was in Chicago...

Yup. Again.

Apparently, this time the guilt and the nursemaiding is going to be payment for the cool iPod and $600 gift certificate I won at the conference. I suppose that's fair. If Abby has to have tonsillitis (according to WebMD.com) in order for me to have have an iPod, I guess that's a sacrifice I'll just have to make.

There's a reason why people hate Mondays

After realizing that I was becoming a catty junior high Heather/Mean Girl, I made a Lenten commitment to make less fun of others and more of myself. Weeelllll...have I got a story for you! I should warn you, those of you without children, who are less exposed to various disgusting bodily functions and fluids as a part of your everyday routine - you may want to stop reading right now. Seriously. I've got some new pics over at Flickr. You could go look at those instead.

Today started out fine. It's a gorgeous day in central Indiana - 74 degrees and sunny. I got up on time. Did my push-ups and crunches. Yes! No, darn! The scale gave me the bad news that I now weigh more than I did at the beginning of the year...sigh. But okay. Game is on and I am re-focused! Rah! We got to day care at the right time so I would make it to my meeting on time. Woo hoo! Uh-oh! I forgot today was Spring Picture Day. And of course, my children are not only not dressed like the little cutie pies they are, they certainly are not color-coordinated with each other for their nice sibling shot...sigh. But...okay. We'll make due. And we'll plan on making an appointment with our nearest Sears/JCPenney's for some REAL portraits. You know, since I don't have my rock star paparazzi camera yet.

Morning meeting was fine (I was almost on time). Work was fine. Lunch was fine. I had a salad and some leftover Sausage Skillet Sensation (with broccoli this time - yum!). Healthy! We even walked! Hoo rah!! Life is good. Game on! I am having a generally good day! And it's Monday! And I'm already considering what healthy dish I can prepare for dinner. Maybe we'll grill! Outside! And walk! Yes! Oh, what's this? A little twingle in my belly? Why, I think I'll walk myself to the restroom and...uh, wait.

Ummm....what just happened? I didn't just do what I think I might have just done, did I?! Oh. My. GAWD. I had an accident. Of the number two variety. In my pants. At work. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?! I don't feel sick. Well, okay, I kinda feel sick NOW, but that's probably more a result of being absolutely disgusted with my own body. Okay, this can't be salvaged. I have to leave. Immediately. Crap. LITERALLY. Going commando for the rest of the day is not an option. For one, eww. For two, I also have other issues which prevent me from leaving an unprotected barrier between me and my pants. For three, EWW! And OMG, what if it happens AGAIN?! Because now my stomach is not feeling quite right at all.

Okay. Stay calm. Breathe. Clean things up as best you can (and, yes, now we are going to talk to ourselves in third plural person - it distances us from what is going on. Because EWW!). Wait for the other people to leave the bathroom. Let's stay anonymous. Okay. Remember, calm. Don't raise suspicion. Back to our desk. Must tell Stacy. She's on a conference call. Good - because we don't really want to explain this in person. Will send e-mail. Very vague e-mail. Maybe we can come back after we change. We're not sick. Right? Just what? Not potty trained? Don't think about it now. Type e-mail standing up. Because. EWW! Out the door. Okay. Calm. Don't freak. Oh, driving. Requires sitting. Okay. Brace yourself wth your thighs. Limited contact between seat and pants. You can do this. Drive very quickly. Seriously, if we get pulled over, there's no way we're getting a ticket. Drive 90. Because. EWW! Home. Van in garage. Driveway close enough. Run. Not THE runs...we've apparently already done that (EWW!).

Whew. Clean. Still disgusted. Stomach gurggly. We'll wait ten minutes and see if we're going to be okay. Oh! Not okay. NOT OKAY. Staying home. Thank God for wireless and a laptop.

Moving on, back to 1993

Today, I left work at noon. I am running pretty low on PTO (thanks to a few too many "I think I'll take a day off" days and way too many "my kids are sick and want Mommy" days), so I went to work this morning trying to convince myself that I did not have a fever and that I could make it through the day. But by noon the cold sweats and desire to use my keyboard as a pillow convinced me it was time to pack it in. Okay, so I'm still sick and it would be best to avoid earning a new nickname around the office. Because I'm pretty sure that if I'm introduced to the new guy as Typhoid Cheri, that's going to be something that he remembers for a while.

On my way home, it was time for the WTTS Time Capsule. Today's year: 1993. And the first song played to transport me back to that milestone year: I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers (if I was as cool as Taunie HTML-book Smartypants, maybe I could embed the video right here, but since I'm not, you'll just have to follow the link). Ahh, the memories. The timing! It was Fate. It was Love. 1993, the Summer of 1993, more specifically, is when the Mississippi River introduced me to my future husband. It's just a romantic that way. And then the Proclaimers helped me fall in love with him. They're quite the match-making duo.

It's actually a little bit of a long and twisty story, and I am nothing if not long-winded, so if I try to relate the whole story here, you'll be reading a book. I'll do my best to summarize, I'll even use bullet points to see if that helps! Here goes:

• The Mississippi River floods Des Moines, where I had stayed on campus at Drake University.
• Grandpa kindly rescues me from the city without properly functioning toilets and three feet of water where downtown used to be.
• I visit my best friend in her college town, Charleston, Illinois.
• She introduces me to the guy she has a big ol' crush on.
• He almost backs over me with his car.
• I decide he's kinda cute. (My best friend moved on to other crushes, and yes, there was some other stuff between him trying to kill me and me deciding he's cute - don't look at me like that!)
• He drives me and my best friend 500 miles - JUST LIKE in the song (okay, it was more like 400 miles, but go with me here) - back to Des Moines to rescue my things from the abandoned campus.
• He gets REALLY drunk the night before we leave Des Moines, but still has to drive the entire way back because he is the only one who could drive a stick shift. (That's not all that important to the story, but it's funny, so I like to remind him of it any chance I get.)
• Yada yada yada
• We fall in love.

Okay, I had to cheat and use the yada yada...what can I say, it's a nice little story and I could go on for a while. I can't wait until the kids are old enough so I can tell it to them (of course, I'll have to take a little creative license here and there since we met at a bar and a lot of the funny stories start with "Steve was really drunk and..."). And as angry as I was at him a couple of days ago, I've moved on now. He has been more considerate of my sickliness and, truthfully, I'm whiny when I'm sick. Worse, I don't like to admit that I'm whiny, so I just take it out on him. Poor sap. If he'd known this is what he was in for, he might have tried harder to run me over that first night we met. Or maybe been less of a hottie. With those glasses, was that possible?