It's the bated breath

Some days, when The Boy does something stupid, I have to sit and wonder what the hell is he doing and more specifically what the hell am I doing with him?

Then, Fridays come along and I am reassured that he's the best choice I ever made. As mentioned before, I have bronchitis. It has not yet gone away and on Friday it was torturing me. I could not concentrate, but could only cough. I called it a day at noon and went to The Boy's.

When I walked in the door, he looked at me, and told me to lie down. I did and he covered me with two blankets, still shivering, and stating that I was cold, he piled a third blanket on me and tucked me in. I would have stayed tucked in all afternoon, but alas my intestines were not cooperating that day. I had to get up every 15 to 30 minutes to use the bathroom. However, each time I came back to the couch, he asked how I was, if I needed anything, and made sure all my limbs were clearly covered by blankets.

I "rested" this way until it was time to leave for the appointment with our new realtor. The meeting was brief, but informative. I like her and I think we will retain her as our permanent realtor. After this meeting, which I strugged to pay attention at, we headed to the video store, and the grocery store. When we arrived back at the apartment, he ordered me inside and would not allow me to help carry anything in. He ordered me into my jammies and back on the couch. I listened and tried to insist I could help, but he said I had to rest. He had told the realtor that he was ordered by my mother to make sure I had a restful weekend.

I left that couch only once until I went to bed. Otherwise, he brought me a snack of cottage cheese and crackers. He made me French Toast, which was artfully arranged on a plate around a mug of warmed syrup. He brought me things to drink, he brought me our Monkey, and he let me pick the first movie. He sat in a different seat than usual so he could reach out occasionally and stroke my hand.

I slept for 12 hours that night. And the next day I did very little again. I made no meals, I lifted nothing heavier than a fingernail clipper, and napped. I also cried and being treated so well by someone other than my parents.

I am feeling better. However, if I talk for more than two minutes, I lose my voice. I still cough and my nose is running and needing blowing constantly. I can work now though, but laughing still causes me to wheeze. I want to go back to the gym, but recently I became quite winded walking to the apartment, back to the car, and to the apartment again with nary a hill in sight.

Bugs Bunny's Famous Line Here

I am a cougher. Deep and throaty. This cough and my nasal congestion led people to tell me to see a doctor. I did after a bit of waiting, but I saw one. I peeked through the door and glanced at a white coat. At least, I'm claiming that was a doctor. Who else would wear unattractive white coats?

Onward, I have acute bronchitis. I emailed The Boy praising myself for having cute illnesses even, that I know I'm adorable, but to have the power to make viruses cute is immense. Wow was all I could say to describe that.

Onward again. I received a nebulizer treatment, my first! It was hard to concentrate on breathing in through my mouth and out through my nose, especially since my nose was a bit stuffy. It's not a snobbish nose or uptight, it's just filled with mucous. Saying the word mucous makes my eyes squinty, sometimes they will even water. So, for twenty minutes I carefully thought "In through the mouth, out through the nose." Deep thoughts indeed. I didn't even realize how tight my chest had felt until after the treatment. It was like I'd taken off a corset and could finally let it all hang lose, needless to say women everywhere know the feeling of letting the girls run wild and free after confinement. It's liberating, not to mention I felt better.

However, that feeling of better, only lasted a short while. I am back to hacking. I cannot sleep. I am supposed to rest, but after five hours of slumber, my body woke me up wanting a drink of something, wanting to use the bathroom, and then when I finally tried to sleep again, the body coughed and coughed making slumber sleep in the other room. Alas, there's only a twin bed in the other room and we both won't fit in it, apparently. Well, okay there are actually two chairs in here, but really does that matter? No.

What matters is that I just discovered that Swanson Pot Pies do not get crispy in the microwave and Banquet Pot Pies do. This is very important information for those of us who like pot pie crusts. I do not care for the filling all that much, but it is the crust that's alluring. My bed is also luring me, but I feel like it's false. Like a man who shows up in fab car, stylish clothes, takes you to a fun restaurant, but then tells you it's a rental car, his friend lent him the clothes, and he had gift certificates for the restaurant that he won at a Comic Book Convention. Disappointment is the feeling and I am feeling it.

My bed is fantastically comfortable, but coughing while lying down hurts, not to mention it shakes the bed, which makes the headboard hit the wall behind it. Bang Bang. Nope, not sex. Nothing nearly as sexy, just bronchitis at work.

It's an uphill battle.

You know when you're sitting in a quiet office or library with your head filling with information and ideas, trying to sort them all out, and someone keeps coughing, and keeps coughing and all this makes you want to stuff a cotton rag in their mouth and hope they choke on it? I am that cougher. I went to a wedding and as a parting gift received a cold. Thankfully, gifts keep on giving and I've managed to infect The Boy, though he appears to be healing more rapidly than I.

Most of my office is sick, though I don't know if that's my doing or not. Many of them were showing symptons around the same time I started exhibiting the classic signs of a cold. I've consumed three bottles of cold medicine, countless cough drops, and some sore throat lozenges that have only managed to numb my tongue thus far. I am giving up on the so-called throat lozenges; I nearly bit my numby little tongue off. Because of this, this illness I am not enjoying the days of August, the sun, the gym, the anything. I am moping and sullen. I hate being sick but especially in the summer. Not to mention, something is making me poop uncontrollably.

So, I am in fact not a happy camper. No, I am the non-participant, the arms crossed over the chest, glaring, angry camper. Watch out or I'll turn my arts and crafts project into a weapon.

In other news, The Boy and I are looking at buying a house. I am leery about this, but at the same time we are paying too much for us to live apart and we both want to own a home. It's out of town about 45 miles, but not too bad of a drive. We are seeing a realtor on Friday because if nothing else we can find out what we need to do in order to become eligible to buy a home in the near future, say the next one or two years. My dad said there's nothing wrong with looking since it's free and this is true. Although, I'm leery about owning a home with a man I am not married to, not even engaged to. I always thought I was more liberated, more open than that. Turns out when it comes down to it sometimes, I am old-fashioned.

However, I will never lose my last name. I may compromise with hyphenation, but I will not let my name go. I decided that. I also decided that my boyfriend has horrible taste in engagement rings. I mentioned how my trainer at work showed me a ring she liked on-line, it was the very ring that he had given to his ex-fiance, which I think is hideous even if she hadn't touched it. I told The Boy I thought it was ugly and he asked what I do like. I found some things on-line that I thing are pretty and he finds those horrid. We are in complete disagreement. I fear if we cannot agree on small pieces of metal, how can we agree on a home with larger pieces of metal, and wood, and paint, and.... oh so much more.

Whisful Thinking

This entry all started because I was looking for a recipe for rutabagas. I was unsure of the spelling and it took me a while to find what I was looking for, but when I finally did I was very excited.

I've been wanting to try rutabagas for some time now, but haven't really thought about learning how to prepare them. Well, that is no more. Praise the internet and its vast array of information.
But what this entry is really about is me wanting to do things and doing them. You must all know what's coming next... a list!!! Yes, a list.

I know, I know. I can hear you all saying "But you've already made a list, more than one list. What makes this list different?" Probably nothing. But I like lists and so a list there shall be.
It's not new and improved, because if something is improved that means it's already old, so it would be old and improved. New is something new and this is a new list. Onward.

1. Prepare and eat turnips and rutabagas.
2. Learn to know when a mango is ripe.
3. Figure out how to know which nectarines are mealy and which ones are smooth to the bite.
4. Learn to sew, really and truly sew.
5. Live. That's it. Just simply live.
6. Live more simply.
7. Stop using plastic grocery sacks and switch to canvas totes.
8. Save money.
9. Pay my parents back what I owe them, which is my life, but I am speaking in monetary terms.
10. Have dinner parties.
11. Invite other couples over for Game Night.
12. Spend less time talking about trivial matters
13. Read the news more often, especially that of other countries.
14. Be healthier.
15. Enjoy pajamas more.
16. Start wearing jewelry.
17. Go to the New England states to see the changing of the leaves.
18. Have a gazebo of my own, even if it's just a miniature one for decoration.
19. Control my diabetes.
20. Own more plants and keep them alive.
21. Use coupons.
22. Eat out less.
23. Cook more and enjoy it.
24. Make cookies and share them at work.
25. Wash my car more often.
26. Visit my parents more frequently.
27. Call my grandmother on a regular basis.
28. Make people laugh.
29. Show my true colors, to thine own self be true, dare to be me.
30. Try new things even if they are scary.

I have traveled half this state this weekend to attend my friend's wedding. I got to put on a beautiful purple dress, have my hair done, have my make-up done, and be as girly as possible. It was a beautiful wedding, the weather was perfect, the early morning clouds cleared up, the sun shone, the setting was lovely, and the bride and groom looked great. Everyone has a great time and the only things that did not make it through the wedding intact and okay were the tuxedo pants. For some reason, three pairs of them became torn through different methods, and one shirt was barfed on. Oh well, at least they were rentals.

However, it is in my travels that I realize the beauty of the state I live in. Each side of the state is completely different, as a person with split personalities, one flat and wide open all the time, and the other craggy, up and down, and jagged all the time.

Here is a photo I took from the East side.

Here's a photo I took from the West side. http://www.flickr.com/photos/36368522@N00/