Thursday, October 28, 2004

Issues with the flem

I'm sick. Not the laying on my death bed, or the hugging the toilet, or even the spiking fever type sick. Oh no it is the silent killer, the undercover agent of sickness. I have the flem. I hate the flem. Feel free to reference my last post to see what reaction other people's flem can do to me.

My sickness is the never leaving house guest. It comes unwelcome and sets up shop with no indication of when it will leave. Sometimes you barely even notice it and then bam there it is standing in the kitchen in your robe drinking straight from your milk carton. My sickness makes itself apparent in that I can now sing baritone in a choir and get mistaken for a man on the phone. Now I don't have a very high pitched voice but come on I have never been mistaken for a man and now I sound like Barry White.

I'm trying to figure out if the sickness has peaked, if I've reached the highlight of this visit and it will be moving on to another poor soul. In the worst case scenario, I am only in the beginning stages and the flem is just the start of the sickness train and it is tearing toward the station with no brakes.

I hate the flem.

P.S. A added symptom of the flem is that my mind has lost its ability to come up with the proper word when needed. Case in point I just told someone about hot dogs in the teacher workroom when I meant to say cupcakes. So the flem has now caused me to be stupid. I hate the flem even more.

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Just say no to Prime Rib

WARNING: The following message contains graphic, gross, and downright yucky references to gagging and vomit. If you have a weak stomach I suggest you proceed with caution. I can guarantee some laughter or at least a crack of a smile at the content but beware you may experience some light to severe gag reflexes. (this means you Jessica)

Ok well I am once again inspired by my friend Jessica in my post today. She posted this sweet message about reuniting with a friend and gave a quick sidenote about gagging and there I go with my own post on that topic. I'm not sure if she is going to think I got what she wanted me to out of her story but oh well.

Gagging. For a long time if was my own specialty. I'm absolutely serious. Ask anyone who knew me in high school, especially my close friends and they will tell you I was famous for it. They would demand it on the spot and respond with glee when I produced a spectacular gag. Many things made me gag, smells, sounds, sights, even just thinking about these things. Specific things that would set me off were the sound of a boy hawking a loogie (not quite sure on the spelling of those terms), the smell of cornnuts (still a wretched beast), the sight of anything resembling vomit or even the sound of that process and the smell of the product, actually vomit was the trifecta of my gag instinct.

So my sweet friends, in a effort to increase their joy, would try and incite my own special talent. They would create sounds, point out sights, or even, when they were extremely desperate, try to get me to sympathy gag with their own mock gag. So the fun and games continued on for years. Katie the extreme gagger. I could have listed it as a special talent, a hobby, my own extreme sport. I was the best around at the gag.

This extreme reaction to so many triggers created a fear deep within my heart that one day I would fail as a mother because when my sweet child suffered the horror of the vomit I would be rendered ineffective by the gag.

But there came a day, that one day in your life when you must face your worst fear. The day when you must stand face to face with your enemy and choose to flee or to fight, or in my case to gag or to not gag. I will set the stage for you. (Insert dramatic music here) I was with the high school youth group on a ski trip. We were staying at this amazing lodge that has the best meals after a long cold day of skiing. A tender comforting smell wafted from the kitchen where the cook had been slow roasting the main course all day. With great anticipation we approached the counter and were greeted by the largest piece of prime rib I have ever encountered. Now I would like to take a moment to let you know that I am a meat lover. Give me a good piece of steak medium with the pink/red on the inside and I am a happy carnivore. But there is something that causes a bit of hesitation when the entire piece of thin meat you are given is a bright pink. I therefore decided to pass on the prime rib and enjoyed the rest of the real.

Fast forward to that evening. I was rooming with two of my senior girls as well as three freshmen. I had jerry-rigged a bed on the floor of the main room so that I could sleep while the sweet freshmen talked into the wee hours of the night. So on this one night I was sleeping ever so deeply as one does after a long day of physical exertion and I awoke in an instant to a horrifying sound. Fear rushed through my body as the adrenaline pumped through my veins. I stumbled through the dark to find a situation that I was not prepared for. One of the sweet freshmen had gotten sick and made it to the door of the bathroom and . . . . well let's just say that the prime rib from that evening (and much much more) was now all over the floor of our small bathroom. This was it, a defining moment in time, what would Katie do? Without even a thought toward the sight, sounds, or smells I leapt into action and threw every towel in that bathroom on the floor and quickly eased the sick girl toward the toilet. She finished her business, we washed out her mouth and returned her to bed. Ahhhhh, mission completed. As it was the middle of the night and there was no magic button for room service emergencies I retreated to my pallet and tried to return to sleep with the knowledge that I had, at least in that crisis, conquered the gag and performed the proper caretaker duties.

Now this story would be wonderful if it ended there. I conquered my fear, rose to the occasion, etc. but as with everything it never ends where you think it will. So once again in my deep sleep I heard a suspicious sound. Only this time is was my name being called out in fear. I jumped up and raced with my catlike skills to the bathroom to find another girl in the throws of projectile vomiting. The evil beast had rose from the ashes of my last conquest to try and conquer me again. Through desperate breaths this girl told me that she had awoken to use the bathroom and seeing ours in such disarray gone down the hall to a public restroom. There she had started to feel sick and thought she could make it back to the room. Alas she was not so fortunate, nor was the carpet outside our room where she became sick. So here I am in crisis mode again in the bathroom attending to a sick girl and then I have to go into the hallway to clean up that little present.

So I did my duty, I reached a place beyond reflexes, beyond instinct, beyond the gag and I rose above that nagging desire to follow the suit of those sweet girls now with empty stomachs and I cleaned and covered and crawled back into bed. Suffice it to say I did not sleep well for the next few hours, I jumped at any sound, listened for that tell tale sign of the vomit and waited for the sun to rise. In the morning I surveyed the damage. Two girls down with stomach problems, a bathroom which had a nice new pinkish carpet of towels and red prime rib and a hallway with a white roadblock in the middle marking the early morning episode.

Not that it really pertains to my point or story but I never like it when movies of books neglect to tell you what happened afterward so I will give you the cliff notes version of the ending. The girls were fine after a day of quarantine. The sickness may or may not have been from the prime rib as it reached out and touched a few others on the trip over the next few days. The lodge was very kind about the clean up of our disaster site.

So lessons learned from this adventure:
1. Just say no to Prime Rib - it got a bad rap with me and I don't think I can ever see it the same again
2. In a disaster the gag is helpless to the desire to rise above and take care of those around you
3. I really don't have a three but I was once told that you should always have three or more reasons for anything

So I laugh in the face of the gag, I thumb my nose at the gag, bring on the smells, the sights, the sounds, the gag has no power over me now. But there was that one time I drove by the Chinese restaurant and smelled the eggs for fried rice and had to pull over as nausea washed over my body and the gag choked in my throat. . . . . . . .

Monday, October 25, 2004

Wedding Bells keep falling on my head

It is a normal month in a normal year so of course someone somewhere is getting married. It just so happens that many someones I know have or are getting married. Let's take a moment to count the weddings in the year of 2004 alone. Luke Yarbrough - January, Elizabeth (now Brodie) - April, Nicolle (now Gershon) - May, Jessica (now Ferris) - May, Alicia (I was her high school LEADER and now she is Mrs. Underwood), Lindsay G (my fun BSF friend who will become a Mrs. in less than 2 weeks), Lisa (will be Mrs. Crane in less than 3 weeks), Brad Herndon (he gets to keep his own name but gets a Mrs. in less than 3 weeks). And these are just a few, I know I'm missing more that I knew about but didn't get to attend and so many more to come.

So you would think that with all this wedding hullabaloo (that is such a fun word to say) I, a single girl approaching 30, might be having feelings of . . . . well let's be honest here: fear, depression, loneliness, etc. etc. etc.

But no, I laugh in the face of those fears because actually I am happy. Yep, you heard me, I'm 27 years old with no wedding bells sighted in my near future and I am happy. It wasn't always this way. My theory is that in your early 20s that you are obsessed with finding Mr. Right and then there is this blessed reprieve where you realize that you might actually survive on your own. Then the 30s hit and you are again obsessed. Therefore I am living in that part of my life where I have no obsessions (save for ice cream and the amazing new show Lost).

I'm at a point in my life that I'm defined by me and that sounds pretty good. I live alone for the first time in forever and I like it. I have the freedom to make my own schedule, eat pretzels and cookies for dinner and think it is gourmet, choose not to make my bed if I don't feel like it, turn every piece of furniture in my house into part of my closet, go where I want when I want and with who I want, and generally be content with who I am. I remember many wise women telling me that I should take advantage of these single years and enjoy all the blessings that come with them. These were happily married women who had or were raising children but they also remembered the freedom they had when they were single.

Now don't get me wrong. I want to be married some day, I want to be a mother. I am excited to be a wife and mother and to give up this selfish freedom I now have to be able to love my husband and children. BUT that isn't where I am right now. I'm single and I have a choice:

To spend every day waiting for those bells to ring for myself
To enjoy each day for what it is before that time

So I choose the latter. Why not enjoy all the things before me now? Why would I pine away for the future waiting as if now was unimportant?

I realize this sounds like some rah-rah pep rally for all the sad single girls out there that can't get a date but that is the exact idea that I'm trying to overcome. It's not that we are biding our time before the right man comes along or that we're making the most out of a bad situation. When did it become expected that everyone must be married or on the way there to be happy. I'm leading a revolt from this perspective and expectation of women. Now don't worry, I'm not leading a feminist charge that says we don't need men or marriage. I'm just throwing out there the idea that every part of our life is worthy. The part where we were in kindergarten and thought boys had cooties, the years of junior high and high school where we had the hugest crush on that boy who sat next to us in history class, the years when marriage actually sounded like something that was possible, the single years, and the lifetime of marriage and family. Each part is important to the next and each can be enjoyed.

If you've made it this far thanks for sticking around. If you're single, go out and enjoy life and the freedom you've been given.

Thursday, October 21, 2004

By popular demand . . .

Ok so by popular I really mean one comment a while ago to get my own page to speak my mind and another more encouraging suggestion from a friend to join the club and have a blog. So welcome to my world or at least my opinions. If you haven't caught the witty title I'll give you a little help. I have all these opinions and my name begins with a "k" so Katie's opinion would become, wait for it, wait for it, . . . . . . . kpinion. I think I may make t-shirts and hats with the catch phrase. It could become the new craze and you're going to be so cool to get in on it soon. As I was saying, welcome, enjoy, feel free to comment, and come back. I will try to be diligent in posting regularly and maybe just maybe entertain you, challenge your mind, or sometimes maybe even spark you to respond.