I was good. I was in bed by 10:00, alarm set for 6:00. I was finally going to walk with Sharon at 6:30 this morning, had texted her to confirm, even though I’d been a delinquent and had begged off for at least a week or two. This was the morning I would finally exercise. After that, I had a long day of teaching ahead of me, but I was all prepped for that and ready to go.

At 9:00, I was exhausted and ready for bed. But we were still at small group, and people were parked behind us. But by 10:00, my contacts were out, my face washed, my teeth brushed, and I was nice and comfy, snuggled in bed, ready for my eight hours of blissful sleep.

Well. First, I was too cold. I got another blanket. Then I was too hot. Like, feverish hot. I kicked off the other blanket, then the regular blanket, then the sheet. I cooled down and eventually returned the sheet and regular blanket to their normal places. And then I turned over. And then I turned over again. I thought about happy things. I thought about nothing. I counted and counted and counted and counted. I got up to use the bathroom. I got a glass of milk. I chomped down a TUMS. And still could not fall asleep.

I came close, several times. Eventually, I’m pretty sure my despair over not being asleep is what kept me up.

Finally, sometime after midnight I think, I fell asleep. Then woke up before my 6:00 alarm went off. Once it finally rang, I texted Sharon to bow out of walking—again. And Jesse re-set it for 7:00 so I could squeeze in a bit more sleep.

Which, of course, didn’t happen.

I counted to somewhere in the 400s before the alarm rang again, at which I gave up and got out of bed, grumpy and feeling kind of sick.

Not cool, last night, not cool.

Love,
Erin

Though I am recovering from the cold, yesterday I had an eye disaster. Dis-as-ter. I left the house with my left eye kind of irritated. I’d thrown away my old pair of contacts and had a fresh pair in. As I locked the door, I thought, maybe I should grab some eye drops just in case, but then I decided against it because the clock it was a-ticking and the contacts were new, so I was sure they’d settle down.

Ha. Well, the first class went fabulous, and then I ate lunch in my office (turkey sandwich—a departure from the typical peanut butter and honey, woohoo), and then I went to my second class, and by the end of that class my eye was trying to claw its way out of my skull. I had ten minutes before my last class, and I spent them in my office, trying to get my eye to stop this nonsense. Didn’t work. I showed up to my last class looking like I’d been crying, and I apologized for the appearance, made some joke about contacts, and then spent the next hour and fifteen minutes alternately weeping and itching. Oh, torture.

After class, I went home (with a quick stop on the way to surprise Jesse at work!) and took out my contacts immediately. Relief, I was sure, was on its way.

Not so! I had already given myself the rest of the evening “off” because I’d gotten so much work done in the wee hours of the morning. And how did I spend the time? Pouring about a half bottle of Visine in my left eye, rinsing it, putting a cold wet washrag on it, ordering it to Stop This Right Now, and generally sitting on the couch looking and feeling miserable.

Nice. Well, the eye seems to be better today, thank goodness. Now, I’m going to input all the quiz grades so far into the handy-dandy Excel file Jesse made me that does all the math for me. Brilliant!

Ta-ta!

Last night, I went to bed and Jesse was still up, but I thought he’d be right behind me. His computer (which he relies on to do freelance work at home) had been acting funny, and he wanted to start some diagnostics overnight. Maybe he’d come to bed a half hour later or something like that. So when I woke up at sometime later and realized he wasn’t in bed, my first thought was, Must not be so late. My second thought, after putting on my glasses and realizing it was four o’clock, was, Huh? And then, Huh? I went to check on him, but the light in his office was out. I opened the door and it stopped halfway, bumping into something, which I quickly realized was my husband.

“Jesse?” I said, kind of panicked–why was he lying on the floor of his office at four in the morning??

He made some kind of sound, so I figured he wasn’t dead.

I continued: “What the heck? It’s four o’clock. What are you doing?”

To which he replied, simply, and without a hint of irony, “Napping.” As if it were obvious.

I waited. I figured it would be clear I wanted more of an answer than that, but none was offered. I laughed and went back to bed. But, I couldn’t sleep, thinking about him on the floor of the office, so almost an hour of trying later I got up again and found him in chair this time, on the computer. Apparently the diagnostics and fixing of the machine had taken longer than hoped. (He didn’t have to say it, but I knew why he had to pull an all-nighter–when else was it going to get done? He needs nights and weekends right now for the projects he’s on.) He said he was getting ready to take another nap, so I suggested napping in bed this time. A few minutes later, he came to bed and I was able to go back to sleep (for the whole hour I had left before the alarm went off, that is).

I present this story to you in case you needed further evidence that my husband: 1. is insane, and 2. works hard. Good grief.

The reason for my early morning was a dentist appointment. I don’t dislike dentist appointments in the same way some people do, but, generally, getting my teeth cleaned, poked, scraped, and x-rayed doesn’t rank very high on my “Things to Wake Up Early For” list. But, I dutifully show up at my dentist’s office every six months because that’s the kind of person I like to believe I am. I once went three years without going to the dentist, and this was cause for some embarrassment and a general sense of dismay when I finally got an appointment and had to admit I’d not been to a dentist in three years. But then the hygienist said she couldn’t believe it had been that long since my last cleaning and pronounced my teeth in good shape, and I felt enormously better. My teeth are not particularly attractive (I was one of those kids who didn’t need braces, so now I admire the perfectly straight post-braces teeth of my peers and smile for pictures with my mouth closed), but they are clean. I don’t, however, floss. I feel you should know that, lest you think I’m someone I’m not.

Now that you know my dental history and the condition of my teeth, we can move on. I left the dentist’s office and spent the rest of the morning watching the two-year-old I babysit. We played outside, took a walk, worked on learning the shapes, talked about colors (“What color is this?” “Boo.” “Yes! Blue! Very good! Blue!”), and read a stack of library books about ducks and numbers and heavy machinery. When I came home, I poked around online looking for information about education for two-year-olds because I want to make sure I’m maximizing the time I spend with him. If I could be nanny-and-teacher, that would be a win-win for everyone—the parents would get more for their money; the little boy would learn things and become a prodigy and star in a YouTube video where he names all the states and their capitals in the order they joined the union; and I would feel productive and useful. Today I felt we did a good amount of educational play, and I do think it’s important to have times of objective-free play, but I’d like to learn more.

The rest of the day was a chiropractor appointment and a variety of errands and chores. For dinner, I made vegetable soup, cleaning out my veggie drawer. Basically, if it was in my fridge or freezer and was some variety of edible plant, it went in the soup. Oh, plus macaroni. Super easy, super tasty, and it made the house smell great. Tomorrow, my friend Beth and her mom will be in town, and that means tomorrow morning will be another early one for me. But this time, I’ll spend those pre-dawn moments cleaning my house and setting up the futon and buying a pork loin and some good balsamic vinegar for dinner. Much better—sorry, Dr. L—than a visit to the dentist.

I spent the rest of the day, the non-writing part, chasing a two-year-old, running errands, and paying bills. I hate paying bills. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I hate paying bills when we have so little money. I rather enjoy the nuts and bolts of the bill-paying experience, the writing of the checks, the updating of the checkbook register, the simple math I feel entirely capable of doing. It’s therapeutically simple. Until I see the number to the far right going down…down…down, and I’m mentally tallying the bills that are still to be paid this month. Fabulous.

I’d say chocolate would be in order, except I read on the New York Times website today that the mood-lifting properties of chocolate are exaggerated. “One… study showed that a 130-pound person would have to eat 25 pounds of chocolate in one sitting to significantly alter the mood.”

And the problem is…what exactly?

I think I’d better go get some caffeine instead, though. The light’s fading and I’m fading with it, and I’m meeting some girlfriends (if I were not aging, I’d probably use the term “gal pals,” but heck, thirty’s coming fast) for fondue at 8:45 tonight and I’d like to be awake for that. If possible.

Friday, we got up early and went Black Friday shopping. We were in desperate need of a new vacuum, and the one I wanted came with a Sears gift card that became my Christmas present (hence the outrageous heels, which I wore nearly all day Sunday). After shopping, we came home and fell fast asleep for several hours, waking up in time to eat lunch and string lights outside. Dinner was pizza and Coke from Papa John’s (the day after Thanksgiving is for leftovers, not for cooking! So, in the absence of leftovers, it was for ordering pizza). It was fun—we haven’t ordered pizza just the two of us in a while, and even though I started the holiday bemoaning the fact that we were all by ourselves, I was at this point beginning to enjoy just being with Jesse. It’s nice when ordering pizza can feel a bit adventurous, a bit rebellious.

After dinner Friday, we put up the tree while watching kids’ movies on TV. Oliver has only climbed the tree once so far and has not managed to take it down. Saturday, we had Brandon and Kara over for dinner and a movie (I snuck the green bean casserole in, though I spared them the turkey, but really only because it was still frozen).

Over the weekend, I continued my cleaning quest, and now I’ve vacuumed the whole house (except for Jesse’s office), including the baseboards and under the stove and refrigerator, as much as I could. I cleaned the ceiling fans and the bathrooms and got caught up on my filing (major undertaking there), organized my coupons, broke out the flannel sheets. Vacuumed again. And again. If we had holiday weekends at home every month, my house would sparkle it would be so clean.

Sunday, we had a big Southern lunch at Brandon and Kara’s—fried venison, cooked carrots, and rice and gravy. I never knew you could put gravy on top of rice, but apparently you can. It was all delicious. Oh, and Kara made chocolate sugar cookies that were absolutely addictive. I found myself craving them today, and I emailed her asking for the recipe.

After church Sunday night, we went over to the Paschals’ adorable new house and ate ham sandwiches and popcorn. I helped as Kirsten arranged her study, a lovely little room that has a half-library half-coffee shop feel to it. We all basked in the fact that they live just minutes down the road. On our way home, Jesse and I started timed the trip but forgot to look at the clock when we got home. Add to this the fact that Warren and Sharon (and Story!) will also be moving to our part of town in the near future (if the stars finally align), and we’re getting that much closer to the sitcom “everybody drops in and says witty things” ideal.

So, the holiday wasn’t what it usually is. But we weren’t as alone as we might have been, and there’s still a lot to be thankful for.

I’m still jonesing for some leftover turkey sandwiches, though…

In bed by 8:30 last night, reading. Lights out by 9:30. Full night of sleep and I’m actually getting work done before Friday’s events begin.

As I mentioned earlier, we have Gracie on powdered Chinese herbs from the vet. (Our vet is a very kind man who wears tiny yin-yang earrings and prescribes things like powdered Chinese herbs.) The first day, I had to mix the herbs with some honey, put that mixture in a syringe (not the needle-type, the medicine-squirting-type), and squirt it into her mouth. Um. Easier said than done. I attempted this in the afternoon, and Jesse wasn’t home so I was on my own. Gracie may be small, but she sure can put up a fight. We ended up with the goopy brown honey mixture all over Gracie’s face, all over my arms and hands, and all over the kitchen floor. At one point, I had the bright idea of trying to smear some on her foot so she could lick it off. Ha. Yeah. Don’t do that.

The herbs are supposed to help her digestion. She’s had problems since day one with this, and we’ve tried all the different foods we can find to try. We’ve made our own. We’ve added canned pumpkin. We’re now at the point with the herbs that she’ll eat the powder when it’s mixed with her food, so at least there’s no honey involved anymore. I’m hoping this does the trick, but we’ll see…

Snapshots: Jesse shaving in the bathroom while I’m putting on makeup, both of us reciting the whole “she’s a witch!” scene from Monty Python. An impromptu crock-pot dinner of chicken with white wine, orange jest and juice, and sage from the garden. (At least the herbs have done fairly well.) Making a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast, and then a day later cooking green beans from my parents’ garden with chicken stock and bacon, and the whole house stubbornly refusing to let go of the bacon smell until it got cool enough one day to throw open the windows and turn on all the fans.

Last night, I took a shower and put my hair up in pink sponge rollers. My mom used to put my hair in those before bed sometimes, and awhile ago I found a couple of very cheap packs of rollers, so I bought them and promptly did not use them. But, I decided to finally give them a whirl, so I put them in last night. As I lay down, I remembered just how awful it was to sleep with a head full of rollers, spongy though they are. In fact, I think the curlers are why I was able to get up early this morning. After the alarm went off, I couldn’t go back to sleep.