Hypochondriacs Unite!

Back in the day, I was an ER fan - not so much the newer ones, but the George Clooney era . . . he was so dreamy! Next, I became a Grey's Anatomy fan. Besides being set in a hospital, what do these two shows have in common? Since I am not going to wait for a response, let me tell you . . . extreme health issues. I watched Grey's Anatomy with a friend's mom who had been an ER nurse for years. With each episode she would laugh at all the trama that would enter though the ER doors in one night, commenting that she never saw that much action in one night. I suppose it makes for good television, so I didn't mind that you would probably see a gross disease, a severed limb and a shocking pregnancy. But as the series went on, the shows would have to "top" themselves until the cases the doctors were seeing were just ridiculous.

Eventually, the episodes started getting too weird for me and it seemed like all the doctors and nurses had time to hook up with each other in between saving the city from the latest epidemic, that I couldn't remember who was dating who. Needless to say, I dropped the shows from my "need to watch" list, but they had already left their impression on me. Example #1: A couple of days ago, I had a monstrous headache that even Advil couldn't relieve. Clearly, I knew had a brain tumor. I am sure it had nothing to do with the group of eight, fourth grade boys that I was a small group leader for in Vacation Bible School. No, that is too extreme, it was obviously a tumor. Example #2: My shoulder would not stop itching. Obviously, I had a rare skin disease or had been bitten by a flesh eating spider. One of the two for sure.

My point is that these shows have turned me into a hypochondriac. My thought is that if these shows are showing patients who are suffering from these strange ailments, then they must exist, although there is a small part of my brain that think these writers might be making them up. Unfortunately, the crazy part of my brain that has been tricked by these shows tells the smart part of my brain to butt out.

So, if you have been affected by these shows and call yourselves a hypochondriac then together, let's unite! We can figure out what's slowing deteriorating our bodies together. Maybe you have a more interesting disease than me.

All Gussied Up

This week has been insane at the Carlson Casa. Besides starting my summer class that meets two nights a week and nannying, I have also been working at our church's Vacation Bible School. I was exhausted. Last night, I fell asleep on the couch at midnight, woke up at 3 and went to bed, then slept until 11:30 this morning. It was fantastic and much needed. So when Troy suggested that we have a date night tonight, I jumped at the opportunity to have a night of relaxation.

There are plenty of things that make being a girl difficult. Being coordinated in heels, (guys, prepare yourselves for this next one) menstruating and cramps, fat days . . . the list goes on and on. But one thing I love about being a girl is when I have the time to get all gussied up. When Troy and I have date nights, taking an exorbitant amount of time primping is part of what makes the date so fun.

We like to go out to dinner around 8 on date night days because something about eating that late makes us feel classy and important. Plus in all the classic movies, the guy always picks the girl up at least after 7. I start getting ready at least an hour and a half before we have to leave. I take a super long shower, shave my legs even though part of me feels like it is a complete waste - once I open the shower curtain and feel the outside air, I get goosebumps which completely eradicates the act of shaving. I put on my cute robe while my hair gets the attention that it needs as well as extra time on my make up. If it is warm outside, I always wear a dress. I know some of you are thinking, this is stupid, but I think you are underestimating the power that women have when they get all gussied up. I know my husband appreciates the extra time I take . . . well, maybe not if he is hungry.

When I walk downstairs for the reveling, Troy, being the fantastic husband that he is, always comments on how nice I look and then he shows me off at . . . the Olive Garden. Hey, the Olive Garden might just be a run of the mill restaurant to you, but to a young couple trying to save their pennies for retirement, it's our date night place! Besides, we enjoy going so that is all that matters. We really go all out while we are there too, wine, appetizers, dinner and then tiramisu.

So, if you're looking for me, I'll be showing off my cute husband at the Olive Garden. I'll be the gal all gussied up.

Reviving Cursive

This past year, I was working in a third grade class and part of the curriculum is cursive. Personally, the only time I use cursive is when I am signing my name on a credit card receipt, so when the students were learning how to shape upper case letters, I had to refer to a teacher's guide more than once for some of those weird letters.

Fast forward to now. I am currently taking Science and Healthy Living, my last methods class - Hallelujah! - and for our class, we had to make a list of three goals that we were going to work to achieve while in class this summer. They did not have to be limited to physical health, but could also refer to mental health or personal growth. While thinking of my goals, I kept thinking about my third graders and their cursive.

There was a part of me that felt like learning cursive is a bit of a waste. It is a formality or a rite of passage for nine year olds. In fact, I have read some rumors about schools removing cursive all together from their curriculum. Due to the ubiquitous use of technology, cursive is archaic. Most people don't write in only cursive and then I realized that it is almost a dying art-form. That's when I decided that my last goal for the class would be to practice my cursive.

My handwriting is not pretty, which is why I usually choose to write in manuscript, but I have a great appreciation for cursive. My mom has really pretty cursive, the "teacher cursive" and I have always looked at her handwriting and wished I could write like that. Well, I decided that writing is like anything else - it gets better with practice and I also think it is a shame that cursive is dying a slow death when it looks so graceful.

The official goal is that I have to write all if my notes for this class in cursive. My "Health Partner" as my professor calls it, will be checking my notebook at every class, so I can't cheat. I am already starting to see an improvement in my letters and I am especially fond of my 'r' and 'H.' **Side Note: Today, when I was taking notes, I thought my 'r' closely resembled the 'r' that Stan and Jan Berenstain use when signing their name on their books. That's a big 'Boo-yah' for me!

Well kids, the moral of the blog is to find something that is becoming obsolete in society and bring it back to life.

I dare you.

I double-dog-dare you.



Well, now you hafta do it.

Socks with Sandals

If you know me or have read any of my blogs, you will know that I think wearing socks with sandals is one of the biggest fashion faux pas. The very idea is a complete oxymoron. You wear sandals to keep your feet from being constrained - to air them out, if you will - and yet, you decide to suffocate them with cotton or some other synthetic material of your choice. Plain and simple, it is not a good look and in my opinion, give me a solid reason to throw things at you. However, I may have found a loop hole.

At school today, I walked into the teacher's lounge for my break. During this time, the first grade, art, music and title one teachers are all eating their lunch. (It is my favorite lunch period. All these people are super fun.) The room, which was filled with cheerful chatter suddenly became hushed and everyone looked at me with these goofy grins. Then at once, they all stood up from their seats, and proudly mounted their foot on the chair, all to show me - with great pride - their socks and sandals.

I should have been horrified. I mean, it was disgraceful. All those fabulous people, willingly going under the fashion knife and donning socks with sandals . . . with sheer delight. They even brought a pair for me to put on, which I had to graciously decline. But horror and disgust was not what I felt. In a strange way, it was the nicest thing those people have done for me. I knew they had to collaborate this prank and I knew that the only reason they did it was to make me laugh. To be honest, it made me feel really special!

So, I have decided to write a bit of a retraction. Perhaps I can make an exception about my socks with sandals rule. You can wear them, IF you get an entire room of people to wear them . . . . for the sole purpose of entertaining me.

The Socks 'n' Sandals Crew: (From left to right)
Andy, Hillary, Mandi, Me (with my disapproving countenance), Phil, Kathy, Paula, Raeann, Janet and Krista.