Callings

I've been thinking a lot about the word "Calling" lately, and this was a fairly decent article I thought I'd share with you, here.

Sick

Have you ever been sick? No, like, really sick? So sick you've soaked through two tee-shirts in one hour even though you're freezing? So sick you're afraid to cough because your breathing stops? So sick that even when your husband rubs your back lightly it feels like he's raking nails down your spine? Welcome to my weekend.

It has been a long time-years-since I have had a sickness like this so I had all but forgotten how completely wretched it actually is. Surprisingly, it's not just the symptoms that make it so unbearable for me, however. It's the helplessness.

I am a stereo-typical eldest child raised by an independent single mother, which basically translates into meaning that I don't EVER need help. That's false, of course, but that's seemingly how I operate. That is, until I'm ill.

Suddenly, I can't get out of bed to get a glass of water. I can't cram my achy fingers into the advil bottle. I can't shower without a quick hand "at the ready" considering I'm infamous for the in-the-shower pass outs. I can't even walk to the bathroom on my own, my spine all crooked from lying in one prostrate position too long. I am utterly depend on my husband for all of my basic needs and it would be a lie to say I didn't inwardly hate it. Because on top of feeling awful and helpless, being sick makes me an emotional wreck. I get weepy. I get sad. I get scared that it will never go away, that I won't be able to unload the dishwasher in time for company this weekend, that I cannot go to work or worship practice or the other 800 things I've committed myself to throughout the week.

It seems, I identify myself by the things that I do, and when illness renders me helpless, the sadness comes from feeling worthless. So, I suppose I could consider it a good thing that I'm laid up here on the couch unable to independently move my legs. It is here, when I am floating in between naps, where God whispers softly of where my worth really comes from.

Oh, and that after all he's done for me, I should really consider giving Rich a kegerator for Christmas.

Maybe it was Rich whispering.

In Defense of Baths

I have been cold for two, count them, two days. Not just the "this is a nice, brisk autumn day" cold but the kind of cold that has you refusing to reach your hand out of the covers to hit the snooze button no matter how many octaves your alarm clock is bound and determined to climb. That kind of cold. In the car on the way back home from worship practice, I fantasized about Bahama beaches,endless mugs of cocoa- with a strategically displayed cinnamon stick, of course- and down comforters stretched out like canvas across the parking lot. My hot and steamy dreams led to only one conclusion; one answer to this bone chill I cannot shake: it was time to take a bath.

Baths are totally and completely underrated. Not only are they the only things that can thaw my hypothermic appendages, but it is in the bath where you can find complete and utter solitude. No one bothers you in the bath; not even your spouse. There is something sacred about water immersion. I've often envisioned a bathroom and tub placed right smack in the middle of my classroom so, whenever the need rises (like when I'm being called a F%$# face or accused of losing an irresponsible child's paper) I can politely put my finger in the air and excuse myself. It's time for my bath. Where I go, you cannot follow. Ha. Ha. Insert sinister teacher laugh here.

You cannot possibly be distracted with work. Paperwork doesn't fair well surrounded by water, don't you know? You can't answer the phone or e-mails- mmm, electric shock, anyone? Besides, how awkward would it be to have to ask your boss to repeat himself on that conference call- you simply couldn't hear him over the running water.

It's a one stop shopping excursion. Relax and get clean while you wait for the stillness to put your mind at rest. Makes you wonder what all of these spas are about, huh? Baths are great for the economically challenged. And the tired. And the annoyed. And the physically achy. Damn. I think I just talked myself into taking another one.

Farmer's Market Bounty

Wedding Days

This month, nearly four years ago now, I was sitting in my childhood room, in front of the mirror, surrounded with 85 hair and make-up products begrudgingly purchased from the oh-so-alluring cosmetics isle in CVS in sullen preparation for the big day. Every favor was purchased and wrapped in a matching ribbon, scattered all over my Mom's dining room table. Every hand-folded, three layered invitation had long been sent out to family members I hadn't seen since I thought stretch jeans were cool. All the T's were crossed, all the I's were dotted. My dress was winking seductively from the corner, it's slippery satin folds screaming to be noticed, touched as I threw my flannel p.j.s over the shoulder to dampen it's spirits. And there I was, about to marry the man I had dreamt of marrying since I was 15 years old, with my 9 dollar mascara in hot pursuit of winning the swimming segment of the triathlon down my face.

Aside from outside factors unique to me and my family situation that made the time surrounding my wedding more stressful than the Short Hills Mall during the Juicy Couture sale at Bloomingdales( it's a bold-faced lie, by the way. Juicy Couture on sale is like fat-free half and half. Dirty tricks, the both of them) I about cracked under the pressure I believe most American brides either place on themselves or allow others to impose upon them. So, in light of my anniversary, I thought I would offer some unorthodox bridal advice to those taking the plunge in the near future.

1. Elope. No. Really. I mean it.

If number one is not an option, then please read as follows:

2. Listen to your mother. Yes, yes, it's true. It's your day. Blah, blah. They just tell you that to soften the blow. In reality, it's Mom's one opportunity to prove to the world how beautiful you are and why she somehow needs to be credited for that. So, when she tells you you absolutely must have the florist make the center pieces more festive and definitive of the season, DO IT or you'll end up with stuffed mice dressed as pilgrims surreptitiously displayed around each and every floral arrangement. Trust me.

3. No one will ever remember. Repeat this over and over to yourself. The tear at the farthest right-hand corner of the tulle carpet? The mashed potatoes served at table nine sans the parsley sprinkle? The delightful little toiletry baskets you made for the restrooms that the caterers divided and conquered in the walk in freezer? The D.J. mispronouncing your new, 2 hour old last name? DO NOT CRY. No one will remember but you. And if your guests experience at the day of your celebration was contingent upon your diverse display of tampax, perhaps you should have invited me instead.

4. EAT. The food's good. You should know, you picked it out. Sit for at least 10 minutes, take a look at the room full of all of the people you have every known and loved, and make sure you get in at least 5 bites before you're whisked off for the Electric Slide.

5. Nod and smile. Everyone's got advice. Even those who never planned their own wedding day yet. Just nod and smile. Then, thank them sincerely for their input and promptly forget everything they said.

As a side note, this is certainly not said to extract the joy some women seem to get from planning "the biggest event of their life". ( Is it possible they exist?) It's just intended to clarify that if you don't or didn't, you're normal, too. If you are anything like me ( I tried on exactly 2 wedding gowns before throwing in the towel and ordering it straight out of a catalog) keep this in mind. Yes, the day you get to wear a nice dress and every body comes to celebrate your union with flowers and cake and lazer lights is pretty special. But it's not your wedding day. You get more than one, you know. Every morning you wake up and remember who you get to have coffee with, buy a house with, have a kid with as long as you both shall live.

That's when the wedding begins.

Enjoy your special day and all of your wedding days there after, as I will mine!