Mutiny

My flesh has launched a revolt. Against me. I haven't been well for a month. And I assume it is my body's angry response to my lack of rest. You might be thinking that it's only natural for sickness to follow unrest. And maybe it is. But I think It's just being selfish.

If I could, I would step outside myself and yell, "Buck up, Body! There is lots to do. And we can either do it sick, or we can do it healthy. But either way, we wake up at 6:00, and we go to bed at 11:00. And either way, there is work to go to, there are meetings to attend, and there are children to play with. So what do you choose? Are you going to help me out? Are we going to be on the same team?"

Unfortunately, I think my disciplinary tactics are sort of ineffective and my body [like Grace] probably wouldn't listen to me.

But it should. Because I am sick of sickness. A constant cold with an incessant cough and intermittent voice loss were punishment enough. But now, well, Ms. Corporeal Mass over here is just getting mean.

My lymph nodes on either side of my jaw are the size of marbles. And I have a fever. And [I know it sounds really lame but] really achey muscles. And apparently all of these symptoms are attributable to the crusty, yellow, dime-sized object on my lip [a revolting thing you may know as a cold sore]. It is my first cold sore. And I'm told it won't be my last. And I am ticked.

Another Year Has Gone By...

... and I still have last year's unmailed Christmas postcards sitting on my desk. The top on the pile is addressed to the Cunninghams and includes a postscript urging Sarah to start a blog. She still hasn't. Probably because she never got my postcard.

She wasn't the only one. Most of them are addressed. But I am really challenged by putting on stamps. And walking out to the mailbox. And so for those of you who are sitting here in my unsent pile, for your belated benefit, I present last year's postcard.

I'm dumbfounded by the difference that a year makes. Serious changes, people.

Although I suppose the important things have stayed the same. Like my tendency toward lateness, for example. Or not-at-allness. Which is my cue to announce that Christmas postcards are not-at-all this year. This probably does not matter to most of you since cards from us were not-at-all last year too.

My apologies. I am not Superwoman like the rest of you. Okay, let's be honest. You can't qualify for Superwomanhood if you can't even remember to buy stamps. Or make a list of addresses. Or take a family photo during the full course of one year. 

And put it that way, I sound pretty lame. Bummer.

Meet Superwoman.

It's okay to feel intimidated.

I do.