And, my apologies to the fine lyricists of West Side Story. But your songs are so darned adaptable!
Lizzy brought home some insidious little bug awhile back. She was coughing and hacking away for a good five weeks. She finally seems better. I can tell because she has to FAKE coughing when I cough. She thinks it's funny. If she were still under the influence, the faking would be unnecessary.
So this bugger makes junk collect in my throat -- hey, stop reading if you don't want to know -- but isn't a cold, exactly. And gives me a headache and a general feeling of malaise and unwellness. I have been living on aspirin for weeks now.
It definitely could be worse -- but if it were, I would have to stay home in bed. So I'm trying to function normally. It's not a good season to have to fake normal function. I deeply resent every request to bring something to this, that or the other 'holiday party.' Which normally would not be a big deal.
Oh, who am I kidding. It still would be. Remembering and gathering everything I need for daily life seems hard enough, most days.
I keep telling myself the usual about how I am so lucky to have a great family, a roof over my head and warm bed at night and food to eat and on and on, but in truth, I just want to be healthy. I don't like coughing so hard I seriously wonder if I'm going to throw up. (If anyone saw me at church on Sunday during the Kanye West song, that's what was up. It wasn't a reaction to Kanye West, actually.)
(and, yes, we played a Kanye West song at church on Sunday. I don't know why, but it was kinda cool.)
(at least, Matt said it was a Kanye West song. I'm certainly no expert.)
In other news, this year I'm giving up on hand-writing my Christmas cards. And boy, did they go fast last night! I got at least 20 done in an hour. It was AWESOME. I'm never goin' back, baby! Those who have received my chicken scratch in the past will be oh so grateful. Because, really. What's the point of a card you can't read. I've still got more to send out. Maybe it'll get done. Another downside to the feeling icky thing: Nothing gets done. If it's sleep or productivity, sleep wins. Last night I read Lizzy books (Dumbo and a Veggie Tales book in which I have to mimic a number of goofy accents, if you want to know), and then fell asleep next to her in my work clothes. All night. Something I have ridiculed Matt for doing (the work clothes thing; I will pry him out of Lizzy's bed if he falls asleep there).
Lizzy loved the Super Grover show, in case you were wondering. The best was at the intermission, when -- after they'd already soaked us for the price of admission, and tried to tempt us with other junk at the door -- two guys headed down to the floor with EIGHT-DOLLAR Elmo balloons. And, really, what child doesn't want an Elmo balloon, when it's all bobbing in your face and stuff. Matt and I put our foot down on that one. I told Lizzy, "Later." And, some other day, I'm sure we WILL get an Elmo balloon! So there.
The church Christmas party was so fun! Matt really really loved it. I love (hm, I'm creative today in my word usage, eh?) to see him having good conversations with my friends. There's such a feeling of general goodwill, and caring ... It's like a little piece of heaven. For the benefit of the four people who read this who didn't already receive Ross' Christmas party photos, here are two of (parts of) Lizzy and me:
Lizzy's day care party was chaotic. Too many kids/parents, too little space. Aiieeee. Everyone seemed to like their gifts, so that was a relief.
One downside to a blog is that, of course, one must be careful not to offend anyone by putting someone else's personal stuff out there along with yours. But, I have procured permission from the relevant party to share with you the following:
Saturday: Matt gets a check from his dad. For $500. For Christmas. So he gives me $100 (from his dad) and pockets $400. I said, “Yeah, right! Isn’t this to split three ways?” (w/Lizzy) He’s all, "No! What? Are you serious? You don’t think I’m being fair?" When I realized he wasn’t joking, I just shut up about it. I mean, okay. $100 is a generous gift. But it was just bizarre. We were both looking at each other like the other was a serious and complete moron/skinflint.
So he tells me Sunday night that his dad called to say he was supposed to split it evenly FOUR ways, including with his brother…
HA HA HA HA HA.
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