THE CLAW.

Three things run through my head at the moment.
1) This week was really not all that interesting.
2) I really should come up with some New Year's resolutions.
3) My stomach is angry with me. Still.

The biggest thing that happened this week: we went to a big mom's-side-of-the-family Christmas gathering. How was it? Eh. There was a lot of talking and awkward pauses because nobody's seen each other in a year. "How are you? How's school? What year are you again?....Um, I ran out of questions. My bad." I texted Lisa about it and she suggested I tell everyone I was pregnant just to get a conversation going, but I figured that wouldn't be very productive.

A big perk, however, was getting The Hunger Games trilogy for my one-family-member-buys-you-something gift. I spent the next 3 1/2 days locked in those books. Any moment one of the books wasn't in my hands, I was nervous and all my thoughts were being narrated in the writing style of the book. When I finished, I had to stare at a wall for a few minutes and then watch a mindless movie. Two days later, I am still thinking about them, dreaming about them, and living in paranoia--well, only sort of. They were AWESOME.

I do have one New Year's resolution, actually: get rid of the alien implants. Yes, over a month and they still won't leave. Rather than me hating someone else's guts, my guts hate me. I thought I was getting better again until Wednesday, when suddenly my innards were on fire and my belly was saying FEED ME and I HATE FOOD at the same time. What a dandy day to go on a 3-hour car ride home. When I got there, I finally put my foot down and said, "Dr. Dad, I need some more meds. Alien meds." <--not my exact words.

The theory is that, hiding in the walls of my belly, I may have a lovely bacteria called H. Pylori, also known as Helicobacter Pylori, which sounds like "Helicopter Pie". Left untreated, this can be--gross. So, yesterday I got medicine for this thing that I might have. Guess what the medicine does? Makes me feel worse. HOORAY! I went to bed last night (after ditching my friends on New Year's) hoping it would go away. Nope, at 5 this morning, my dog heard thunder, had a panic attack, and woke me up. A few minutes later, my belly thought it was time to join in the fun and it tried to run out to fight the thunder while all it really ran into was all of my other innards, who were not pleased. I knew one of the pills was the culprit--but which?

Fast forward this afternoon, an hour or so after I took one of the pills, my stomach felt like it was in the clutches of a dragon. Actually, I imagined it looking like it was stuck in the claw of one of those arcade machines. (and then I immediately imagined all the little green aliens from Toy Story inside of me as well, going "Ooo, The CLAW!") At the time, we were also at my grandmother's house and she had requested that I help her finish cooking lunch, so, screaming stomach or not, I had to comply.

Fast forward to now. I think I have discovered which pill does what. One tastes like fish and garbage and makes me somewhat nauseous. The other is THE CLAW. I think. I hope I'm right and that a switch in the medicine makes THE CLAW stop--though I'd still have to take the garbage pill. And that, when the 14 days of pills are over, the helicopter pie diagnosis will be correct, meaning that the little aliens will be dead.

Then I can drink coffee and eat whatever I want.

Sadly, after a month of eating less because of my angry innards, I have not lost a pound. I suppose this means I'll actually have to exercise after all!

My belly wants to go to bed now so that when it wakes up before the sun tomorrow morning, it will have at least gotten some sleep.

Lack of good food turns me into Negative Nancy.

A Bum-derful Holiday

Did you know....?
-that Reese's makes bell-shaped candy too?? (Weird.)
-that my bed is covered in filth, except for the patch on which I sleep?
-that Japanese food is still good the seventh time around? (..excuse me, my brain said "second" and my fingers typed "seventh". I'd throw that stuff out before the seventh time)
-that if you opened my stomach right now, you would only find Japanese food and sugar (along with the alien implants)
-that it's actually Saturday, even though my body says it's Friday?
-that I would really like to have a treehouse?
-that Christmas is the day Santa was born? <--that's a total lie.

Song of the day: Mary Did You Know? (inspired by the above paragraph)
Actual song of the day: White Christmas
Song I'm listening to right now: Christmas Don't Be Late by Alvin and the Chipmunks. Don't worry, it came right on time.

This week I was a total BUM. Bum, bum, bum. It was glorious. Most of my time was spent reading books I wanted to read, eating, wearing pajamas, and making a clay nativity for mom. In my spare time, I took Daniel cologne shopping (I'm afraid that this may become a yearly tradition), went to the bank, read Christmas stories to Audrey in a Russian accent, made cookies, and spent time with three friends.

Spending time with one of these friends in particular was very special--necessary, even. After thirteen years of friendship, we were due for a disagreement...and in September, conflict rushed in like a bad thunderstorm. We didn't talk for months after that and it was a constant shadow looming in the back of my mind. Then, on Christmas Eve, we finally took the plunge--that awful, terrible confrontation conversation that nobody on earth really likes--and after half and hour or so, the tension disappeared like it had never been there in the first place. It was amazing. Everything returned to the way it should be, and that evening I found myself sitting in their family living room opening little Christmas presents like I had on Christmas Eves before. I think this was the best kind of Christmas present I could have asked for.

Hurray!

Alright, now let's talk about actual Christmas Day. I get fascinated by other people's Christmas morning traditions, which are all pretty much the same as well as completely different. They go like this: everyone wakes up, some meaningful things are said, someone is "Santa" and hands out presents to everyone, and turns are taken so that it makes a kind of show. (and if you don't open your present with enthusiasm, everyone will stare daggers at you!) Then, when presents are open, everyone eats something delicious for breakfast. After that, there's a lot of hanging out.

WELL. This morning I was not woken up by pretty Christmas music, as per usual. Instead, my sister threw open my door (BEFORE nine o' clock) and huffed "Get up," before turning around and leaving me alone to figure out what day it was. I squinted at the clock, brushed my hair, tripped down the stairs, got some eggnog, and sat down on the couch. Then we had a family Christmas devotional with my ever-enthusiastic mother for about half an hour and even sang some carols (which sounded a bit croaky). Then puffy-faced, just-had-her-wisdom-teeth-out-and-is-a-total-grouch-because-of-it Audrey acted as Santa. And, as usual, I got what I asked for, with the added bonus of Baby Bottle Pops and Reese's bells. After that--yup, you guessed it--special breakfast with once-a-year sausageballs. Nothing much happened after that until lunch, when we had Japanese hibachi, a Christmas tradition because mom doesn't want to cook and the Japanese places are the only ones open on Christmas. The rest of the day was spent watching movies and eating food. BUMMING.

Oh yeah, and for once we actually had a decent snow on Christmas. It was perfect!

It was a lovely, bum-derful day. Now I am preparing to be afflicted with post-Christmas blues. Farewell, Nat King Cole. I'll miss you.

I'm Tired of Being Sick.

Well, that's a lovely title, isn't it?

I'll explain myself. Remember when I mentioned the alien implant that has been acting up over the last month? Well, it seems to have this nasty habit of not leaving. Last weekend, it was popping up a little here and there until I felt like death on Sunday night (at my pastor's house, no less...we'll talk about that later...) Nurse Barb gave me medicine on Monday that helped straighten things out  for a few days--not completely, but mostly--and I went home thinking I was getting better. Hooray, hoorah, I woke up yesterday going crap. Not literally--well, kind of--*uhm*--what I mean is that I was not feeling well. My first reaction was to call downstairs to my doctor father, "Oh father, I am feeling unwell," (that was paraphrased) and within an hour he brought me LOTS of medicine and a plethora of soup cans from Walmart. Now, the next evening, I am finally feeling almost all the way better.

Theories:
-Alien abduction.
-Satan thinks I'm fat and put me on his weight loss program.
-Immaculate conception ('tis the season, after all).
-I am slowly turning into a werewolf. Next month, I will sprout hair...everywhere.
-My belly is jealous for attention.
-I'm becoming Mrs. Claus. Transformation will be complete on Christmas Eve!

 Time to change the subject. What happened at your pastor's house?!?! is now everyone wants to know. Here's what happened. I decided to go to my church's Christmas concert on the night it was destined to snow something awful. This left me stranded down the mountain, so I stayed with my friend, the pastor's daughter--which means I stayed at my pastor's house. Then the three of us watched a movie together, and she conveniently left right before the--er--dirty part of the movie. So I was left watching this couple get it on onscreen while sitting next to my pastor.

....

Then I got sick.

Anyway, Wednesday night was interesting. Lisa, Kait, and I decided to walk back after dinner around 6:30. Walking soon turned into sliding and I was suddenly wishing that I'd asked for ice skates for Christmas. Ice was pouring from the sky and the ground was like glass. It was the first time I've ever had frozen hair, making it slightly more awesome than terrifying.

I learned a lesson on Thursday that I would like to share with everyone: a good night's sleep is necessary to your survival. Got it? I only got five hours of sleep on Wednesday night (the ice was too fascinating to let me sleep) and I was sure I was going to wreck on Thursday when I drove home. It was raining, I thought the car was rocking back and forth, every semi truck wanted to eat me, and the spray off of other vehicles was blinding. On top of this, I was feeling slightly sick and my brain was going ".............."

But God thought I needed to live longer, so both Beulah and I are both here, unharmed. I think.

I was going to go ice skating today. I've wanted to go ice skating for a year. My belly said, "Not so fast, young one!" Therefore, I spent the afternoon reading my favorite book ever, ever, ever, ever....Ella Enchanted. This may be the sixth or seventh time I've read it, yet it never disappoints. It's cute, it's funny, it's substantial. I get emotionally tied up in it, burning with full-on hatred for Hattie, the evil stepsister, and falling head-over-heels in love with Char, the prince (who isn't real, I know. It's a problem.) It's an intelligent spin-off of Cinderella and, being a princess myself, I have to love it.

Did you know that Justin Bieber has three cds, and each has the words "My World" in the title? I know this because my sister just gave me "My Worlds Acoustic". There's no apostrophe in the title on purpose, I might add. It's a mixture of songs from the first two cds: "My World" and "My World 2.0", which makes for "My Worlds". This kid is more narcissistic than I am! I LOVE IT!

Now, two pictures I like. Number one: Lauramunch, Lisamunch, Fuzzymunch, and shower safety Brian Peppers.

Number two: Uno Stacko is one of the best, most nerve-racking games ever.

......What's that, belly? You say it's bedtime? Ok, that sounds good. Can I go see one of my friends tomorrow? Pleasepleaseplease?? ...We'll see? You'll get back to me in the morning? *huff* FINE.

Snow and Lisa Claus

I hate snow. 

No, let me rephrase that. I actually like snow when I'm planning to stay inside to look at it, or when I have my ski pants and boots ready to go outside in it for about fifteen minutes. Newsflash, folks: snow is COLD. When I get cold, my skin dries right up and turns purple like a raisin. It's not cool.  (ha--I just made a joke--snow isn't cool, it's cold...)

Here's something else I'm not a fan of: a sick stomach. The worst was after the Harry Potter premier (see "Alone in a Bathroom"), but I was sick again last weekend and then this weekend it's been sporadic. My roommate thinks it's all in my head. I think that aliens abducted me an put some funky implants in me. Soon fireworks will start shooting out of my belly and I'll be a superhero. 

However, the alien implants couldn't stop me from going to see Tangled last weekend. My thoughts? I'm obsessed. The sickness made me miss the best part of the climax, but that gives me an excuse to go back.

The other night I babysat until about 9:45, and when I returned everyone was gone. Well, I moped about in my loneliness until about midnight, but right as I was going to bed the door burst open. (oohh!!! Santa?!!?! ....NO. BETTER THAN SANTA.) My roommate came in and threw something at me. I looked down at my lap and what sight did I behold? A DISNEY PRINCESS BED TENT. MY ROOMMATE IS THE BEST SANTA EVER. EVER. EVER. EVER. We assembled the tent and were up til 2 making shadow puppets. 

My journal that day said, "This is stupendous." 

I think my bed tent may be my favorite thing in the whole world right now. 

On Friday I had to do a sociology project. Oh, I know what you're thinking. Sociology projects are the pits. Well, my friend, THIS sociology project was the bee's knees. Poor Laura and her assignment partner had to go downtown and eat donuts. Not just any donuts, mind you. A chocolate peppermint bark donut from Krispy Kreme and a key lime donut from Julie Darlin' Donuts--- "Making Chattanooga a sweeter place to be." I don't mind doing some free advertisement for Julie Darlin'. That place was the cat's meow. 

Yesterday was cleaning day, a day that sounds worse than snow (even snow!) but is actually one of my favorite days of the semester. Lisa and I got up, turned on some Christmas music, and went to work. To make things more intense, we spoke to one another in Russian accents and called each other Helga and Greta. We even did pull-ups underneath the clean beds for added intensity. And no need for mops! Helga and Greta use the power in their muscular feet to clean the floor with wet rags. My roommate made me laugh so hard I almost wanted to pee my pants--but didn't, because that would be counter-productive to cleaning day. 

Christmas is a time for lovers to hold one another tightly and stay safe from the cold (and snow. stupid snow.)You know what that means? Tis' the season for my snuggie. 

It's still snowing. I hate snow. 

The Caramel Brulee Latte is the Best Drink at Starbucks.

And I'm not going to write any more about it.

I have 33 minutes before I have to be somewhere and I just reached a stopping point in my intercultural experience paper. Obviously, I can't just pick up and start working on it again with only 33 minutes left. What to do with the awkward leftover time? AHA!

This week has been strange and out-of-sync. Monday felt like Friday. Tuesday felt like Monday. Wednesday felt like Friday. Thursday felt like Tuesday. And Friday felt like...um...Friday. Anyway.

It's time to get in the Christmas spirit and I'm working on it slowly but surely. No, not surely. Just kind of. And slowly. Snow would help.

I FINISHED DEWEY ON MONDAY. <--Biggest accomplishment of the week.

That means that on Tuesday, I spent the entire evening reading The Last Song, or as I call it, One of the Cheesiest Books I've Ever Read But Couldn't Stop Reading. Nicholas Sparks words his sentences in a way that annoys me and includes phrases such as "wouldn't trade this for the world" and "loved more than life itself". Ho boy. This is why I would rather write children's books. Then I can include phrases such as "SUPER AWESOME" and "the moose soared twenty feet in the air" and "then Fuzzymunch bought a cool pirate hook and said 'Argh! I be Cap'n Munch!" <--sounds like Cap'n Crunch.

Speaking of pirate hook, last night I went to a party for the Andreas building leaders. Guess what I got in the white elephant gift exchange. And guess who didn't win the sweater contest. (It's ok. Really. Ila deserved it. Really.)

After the party, I went to The Blink and spent 2/3 of my Blink money. 5 bottled drinks, 10 packs of poptarts, 2 twix bars, 2 bags of trail mix, 3 special k bars, and 3 bags of sun chips. I'm almost all stocked up for finals.

Now I have a 15-page paper due on Tuesday that I just started on today. That's because, when I'm a big girl teacher one day, I'm going to have to know how to be prepared for everything in advance.

My roommate's gone this weekend, but I'm handling it better than usual. Why is this? Because I have a 15-page paper to write, her bed makes a convenient shelf, and I can play really loud Christmas music in the morning. (Hard at work on my Christmas spirit!)

In fact, I think I've found my defining song of the season: Santa Baby. I'd like the deed to a platinum mine, a yacht, maybe a ring (and I don't mean on the phone)....

Thanks-Stuffing Day

Thanksgiving. Hmmm. I think I'm going to rename it. Foodgiving? Thanksfood? Food Holiday? Food Day? Fooday Holiday? I Love Food So Much Day? I've got it.

NomNom Day. I'm a genius.

Maybe we'll talk for a second about 20 things that make me happy. Well, that and some other stuff. Thanks-stuff. OOH. Thanks-Stuffing Day! It works so well!

1) Food.

2) Family.

3) The fact that my sister has practiced the flute since last time I was here.

4) Slow internet connection that makes me spend more time with my family before ten pm.

5) Pretty hair and mirrors (I'm not vain. I'm not.....Ok, maybe a little. But only a little. I'm only vain when good songs come on the radio. And there are mirrors. And I'm dancing. And I have good hair. Ok...)

6) Staying in the house for two days straight. I may not be thankful for that tomorrow.

7) Did you know that "hole" and "whole" are homonyms and antonyms at the same time? Yeah, I just figured that out.

8) My dog. She's old. She might be dead soon. She stinks and I'll miss her.

9) Fuzzymunch. He and I agree on a lot of points.

10) My roommate. I don't know anybody who has ever made me laugh more or who I could live with for such a long period of time without blowing up...I may be setting myself up for failure here. Shh. Let's forget I said anything. I don't want a fight before Christmas. (yeah, in this picture she WAS making wings out of paper bags. Don't worry about it.)

11) Deodorant.

12) Movies that make you think. Actually, I kind of hate those.

13) Choices. I hate those too, but they increase one's thinking abilities. See above.

14) The ability to one day have children. Yay uterus!

15) Children's books.

16) Chacos. I put mine away for the winter and I've been crying every day since. I've also been writing them love letters, as those are my only real connection to them while they are gone. Dear chacos, I miss you more than anything. You have been my most faithful companions since the moment I put you on and my heart is crying because we can't be together right now. Just know that I grow more fond of you each day. See you in a few short months, my Sweetiemunchkin and Honeyboobear. We'll be together as soon as shorts come back in fashion. Miss you more than you know, your Lovepeach. 


17) You know, I might be insane. --Also thankful for that fact.

18) Dress-up clothes.

19) Carpets, a blessing and a curse.

20) Homemade frappuccinos.

There are really a lot of things to be thankful for. It's been quite a year. There are all the big external things that I did--going to Africa, working with foreign university students, writing that #@$&@#*$ Dewey paper, etc--and then there are all these little things, like growing closer to my family, having an incredible (not perfect, but pretty cool) roommate, and owning a car. I found that there's a lot to appreciate after you've spent a few months in Uganda.

Then there are all those things that hurt but are good and prove that God is in control. Things like people leaving you, making the choice to forgive when it's hard (and not always succeeding, but actively working on it), trying to figure out how to reach out to hurting friends, making grown-up decisions, and doing all those things that I will have to keep doing for the rest of my life. Things that I know will get harder.

One of my friends lost her sister this year, and it's been so hard to watch her struggle through the grief. She's an inspiration. She's made me appreciate my sister so much more, even though my sister is pesky and rambles about boys sometimes...ok, all the time...but I am so blessed to have a family without a hole in it. I don't take that for granted.

There's this great song by Taylor Swift called "Never Grow Up". It makes me cry. I'm not ready, I've never been ready, to grow up. There's something in me that will never grow up--that's why I'm going to be a teacher. But I'm almost there--ADULTHOOD (well, kind of there. I'm not calling it that until I'm out of college, because being in college, or at least not in my own house yet, doesn't count). It's exciting, it's cool, and it's terrifying. God's got it, I know he does, but I always go back to that moment when I was ten, lying in my bed, clutching my panda and crying because one day I would have to move away and go to college and leave my toys behind. Well, mom got rid of a lot of the toys behind my back and I did go to college, but in a few years the high school trophies and silly pictures on these bedroom walls will all be put away and this room will not be the same place I used to play princess in.

*sigh*

Then again, I might not notice so much because I will be distracted by whatever else God has put in my life, like a pineapple farm, or twenty adopted children, or jetpacks.

And then, suddenly, I will be old and looking at heaven, going, "Land sakes alive, didn't I just graduate yestiddy?? What happened!? I growed up?---NAW! Oh LAWD!"

Nevermind. Growing up may not be that bad.

Alone in a bathroom

Let's talk for a second about how the last 24 hours have gone. 

We went the Harry Potter midnight premier. There were seven of us, and there would have been seven seats in a row in the theater if one guy had moved down one seat....he turned and looked at us and said, "I like my seat."  The show, however, was superb. 

We started coming up the mountain around 3:30 am. Then Kait got sick all over the front seat, so we had to pull over. Thirty minutes later, I was in car with Amy and Jedidiah Jones, heading back up the mountain, trying my very hardest not to puke.

Fast forward to 7:00 am, when I finally peeled myself out of the bathroom to go to bed because I thought I was feeling better. Fast forward another hour and a half, when I ran back into the bathroom. In fact, the majority of my day has been spent in this lovely room. What does one do in a blandly decorated bathroom for an entire day? 

Several things. 

One looks at bathroom tiles and makes up stories about the characters she sees in them (One story went like this: Once there were two turtles named Myrtle and Mickey. Myrtle liked the color blue. Mickey liked the color pink. One day they decided to come together and make purple, and they were best friends forever. The end.)

 One studies the daisies in the bottom of her puke-bowl. 

One has hallucinations about Harry Potter and how awesome he is (1 1/2 hours of sleep in 24 hours is not enough, folks. Add in dehydration, and things get qurazay!).

 One sings Disney songs to herself. 

One takes the nausea and tries to pretend it is something else, like labor. Then one thinks about how much worse it would be to be in labor, and feels better about her life. 

One receives a phone call from the auto shop and finds out that the work needing to be done to her car is $500 and won't be finished til Monday. What's it matter--one can't pick up her car today anyway. 

One cancels a weekend trip to visit her cousin in Atlanta. 

One gets really ticked at Nurse Barb, who won't give her meds unless she walks all the way up to the office to get them (now, really, Nurse Barb. There's probably a reason I've spent the entire day in the bathroom unable to visit you). 

One dozes on the cold floor. 

There's really a plethora of things to do when one is stuck in the bathroom. 

I think it's about over....I'm sitting up on the computer, only slightly nauseated. And still, it's not been a bad day. I've felt much like an old crazy woman in a nursing home, wrapped up in a blanket singing and talking to herself. 

Whoah. I realized that I just unintentionally dieted for a whole day. 

SCORE!