When I was in my latest car accident, in which a car blew past a stop sign in front of my friend Bethany's car in an attempt to prematurely end all our lives, I got whiplash.
Whiplash sucks.
As a matter of fact, it still sucks. My neck makes new noises I don't like or trust. But time passes, injuries heal, and this week I thought, "Laura, you are becoming a pudding. A human Christmas pudding."
(These are the sort of uplifting bits of information my brain likes to give me, in order to brighten my day and improve my self-esteem.)
So I thought about it and realized I wasn't waking up in unspeakable pain anymore, AND I could both turn my head and look up all at the same time. I decided that meant I could try fitness again.
I am trying to say nice things about this fitness. All I can really say that is: My neck doesn't hurt.
The rest of me hurts.
I can't sit or stand without pain, and I am walking as if someone decided to beat me with a tire iron before I came to work. Tire irons hurt. Fitness hurts.
There is not enough sweet tea in the world to make me feel better.
I have to do this again tomorrow. Also the next day. Also the next day.
Stupid healthy lifestyle, ruining my life.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
Christmas Shopping
Let's take a moment to consider the fact that I went out on Saturday morning, bought every Christmas present I needed to buy, and am now DONE.*
That was all the Christmas shopping in one day. LESS than one day. This is way better than waiting for packages to arrive and hoping nothing gets misplaced by the shipping company or our mail man, who is a really, truly unpleasant person.
It was not better than sitting at home in my pajamas and clicking on the things I wanted to buy people, but what can you do?
Now I just have to find creative ways to wrap all of the things, because my family is too smart for me to wrap things the way you'd THINK they should be wrapped. They guess what is in the packages, and they always guess right. And now I get to actually enjoy preparing for Christmas, because you can't do that when the only thing floating in your brain is a shopping list!
*This does not include the single present that is not done, but I am making that present, so I did not need to go shopping for it. So there.
That was all the Christmas shopping in one day. LESS than one day. This is way better than waiting for packages to arrive and hoping nothing gets misplaced by the shipping company or our mail man, who is a really, truly unpleasant person.
It was not better than sitting at home in my pajamas and clicking on the things I wanted to buy people, but what can you do?
Now I just have to find creative ways to wrap all of the things, because my family is too smart for me to wrap things the way you'd THINK they should be wrapped. They guess what is in the packages, and they always guess right. And now I get to actually enjoy preparing for Christmas, because you can't do that when the only thing floating in your brain is a shopping list!
*This does not include the single present that is not done, but I am making that present, so I did not need to go shopping for it. So there.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Knitterly Things
I was lucky enough to spend Small Business Saturday working at one of my favorite small businesses ever, Simply Socks Yarn Company.
I guarded the yarn, and while I think I ought to have been given a nine iron and a "Hi! My Name Is" sticker that said, "Stephen Segal," I think I did okay keeping the yarn safe from scary toilet-paper-cozy-crocheters and moths and biker gangs.
And I got to see (and talk to!!!) Stephanie Pearl-McPhee (the Yarn Harlot herself). As I was looking at her most recent blog post, I noticed an alarmingly turquoise sweater in a picture of the crowd at her IPFW talk, and that loud turquoise sweater was on ME. So now I kind of feel like a rock star.
Here is the sweater up close, in a picture taken by The Brother. He refused to stand up to take the picture, which is why I appear to be looming. Although I may have been looming anyway, I don't really know. If I was, it was unintentional.
As you can see, I continue to photograph well.
The pattern is Audrey in Unst by Gudrun Johnston, who I fangirl in an unhealthy way. Seriously, if you want to knit a sweater for the first time and are worried or if you're fed up with patterns you need a Ouija board and three translators to make sense of, choose one of her patterns. She explains everything clearly, gives every measurement you could possibly need, and she even comes to your rescue if you're confused.
I guarded the yarn, and while I think I ought to have been given a nine iron and a "Hi! My Name Is" sticker that said, "Stephen Segal," I think I did okay keeping the yarn safe from scary toilet-paper-cozy-crocheters and moths and biker gangs.
And I got to see (and talk to!!!) Stephanie Pearl-McPhee (the Yarn Harlot herself). As I was looking at her most recent blog post, I noticed an alarmingly turquoise sweater in a picture of the crowd at her IPFW talk, and that loud turquoise sweater was on ME. So now I kind of feel like a rock star.
As you can see, I continue to photograph well.
The pattern is Audrey in Unst by Gudrun Johnston, who I fangirl in an unhealthy way. Seriously, if you want to knit a sweater for the first time and are worried or if you're fed up with patterns you need a Ouija board and three translators to make sense of, choose one of her patterns. She explains everything clearly, gives every measurement you could possibly need, and she even comes to your rescue if you're confused.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Buy This Book Because Reasons
I just wrote a post, decided it was too belch, wrote another post, decided it was too introspective and also boring, and now this is the third attempt.
And because clearly I don't have the ability to put thoughts down on whatever this qualifies as (paper? screen? keyboard?), I am instead going to recommend a book.
I read all the time, almost constantly, but I very rarely post book recommendations. Why? Because I am obsessive. I am so obsessive that I know that my liking a book doesn't mean you will. I know you have your own taste, each one of you, and if I put a book recommendation up here, it might not be the book that's right for you. But I am a librarian, and I can FIND you a book--the perfect book--just for you. So why would I make recommendations for books you might not like when I know I can help you find a book if you'd just ask? This is a one-on-one kind of business, book-hunting.
Simply put, I over think.
But one of my favorite bloggers, Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half, has a book out, and you should read it. Allie Brosh illustrates her blog posts using her Microsoft Paint skills. You may think this sounds familiar, and it should be, because she was on NPR this week, because BOOK.
Someone on Twitter (thank you, whoever you were, I can't remember now) recommended Hyperbole and a Half to me. I laughed so hard reading through one of the archived posts that I actually had to go throw up. But then I came back and read some more. And yes, you can laugh hard enough to make yourself throw up. It happens. Especially when you're me and you throw up any time, for any reason. Even from sadness.
My brother is also addicted to Hyperbole and a Half. His favorite part of the blog made the cover. Simple Dog made the cover. We love Simple Dog.
I also love the Better Pain Scale, because I have been asked to give my pain a number enough times that I have started to give it real thought. I mean, how do I KNOW my pain is the worst possible pain? I can't know that. So that means my pain can never be a 10 on the hospital pain scale, can it? Even if my skin is no longer attached to my body, it could probably still be worse! I was happy to discover I wasn't the only person thinking about this problem.
If you aren't reading Allie's blog, you really should. And while you're at it, buy the book or check it out of your library. It will make your horrible day way better. It will make your LIFE better. Because I told you so.
And because clearly I don't have the ability to put thoughts down on whatever this qualifies as (paper? screen? keyboard?), I am instead going to recommend a book.
I read all the time, almost constantly, but I very rarely post book recommendations. Why? Because I am obsessive. I am so obsessive that I know that my liking a book doesn't mean you will. I know you have your own taste, each one of you, and if I put a book recommendation up here, it might not be the book that's right for you. But I am a librarian, and I can FIND you a book--the perfect book--just for you. So why would I make recommendations for books you might not like when I know I can help you find a book if you'd just ask? This is a one-on-one kind of business, book-hunting.
Simply put, I over think.
But one of my favorite bloggers, Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half, has a book out, and you should read it. Allie Brosh illustrates her blog posts using her Microsoft Paint skills. You may think this sounds familiar, and it should be, because she was on NPR this week, because BOOK.
 |
| Funniest. Book. Ever. |
Someone on Twitter (thank you, whoever you were, I can't remember now) recommended Hyperbole and a Half to me. I laughed so hard reading through one of the archived posts that I actually had to go throw up. But then I came back and read some more. And yes, you can laugh hard enough to make yourself throw up. It happens. Especially when you're me and you throw up any time, for any reason. Even from sadness.
My brother is also addicted to Hyperbole and a Half. His favorite part of the blog made the cover. Simple Dog made the cover. We love Simple Dog.
I also love the Better Pain Scale, because I have been asked to give my pain a number enough times that I have started to give it real thought. I mean, how do I KNOW my pain is the worst possible pain? I can't know that. So that means my pain can never be a 10 on the hospital pain scale, can it? Even if my skin is no longer attached to my body, it could probably still be worse! I was happy to discover I wasn't the only person thinking about this problem.
If you aren't reading Allie's blog, you really should. And while you're at it, buy the book or check it out of your library. It will make your horrible day way better. It will make your LIFE better. Because I told you so.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Not Enough Coffee in the World
Since Thursday night, I have been unable to fall asleep before 2:00 AM.
This is a problem, because you can't just quit life because you aren't sleeping. People still expect you to show up at work, Orchestra concerts (maybe that's just me), and other social events. They also expect you to wear grown-up clothes instead of a hoodie and jeans, pajamas, or a giant fluffy robe.
You also have to leave your electric blanket at your house, because as of this moment, I don't think they make battery operated electric blankets, and, even if they did, you can't very well wear a blanket around everywhere you go, either.
You also have to deal with the regular trials of life without falling apart, but when you aren't sleeping, you can't really manage that.
Grandpa fell last week. He lives on his own, because he is stubborn, so no one knew he fell until my aunt couldn't reach him the next morning. Fortunately, he hadn't broken any bones or had a heart attack or stroke, but now he's dealing with all kinds of problems relating to the fall, and other problems related to being 90. He is in the hospital's rehab unit now, and will likely be there for the next 10 days. After that, we'll figure out what the next step will be.
Normally, I would be upset. I AM upset. I would want to be there with him as much as I do right now. I would be worried about Grandpa, focused on his care and the various plans we'll have to make to help him out. I would likely be just as worried. Worried, but rested. And rested makes a huge difference with how I cope with all aspects of life.
Unfortunately (and embarrassingly) the combination of sleeplessness and emotion has made me a complete basket case in the evenings. I am train wreck Laura, and the waterworks start at about 10:00 PM. After that, I am of no use to anyone, including myself, because I can't think at all. I am mostly brain dead, and the only function my brain has left is making tears happen. Which means when I finally DO get to see Grandpa, it will be well before 10:00...so I can see him when I am a person instead of a soggy tissue.
No one needs to see a used Kleenex in human form.
Tonight I am going to be in bed at 10:00. I am going to make sleep happen, so I can be helpful to my family. If The Brother has to use a hammer to knock me unconscious, that is what will happen--he has been gracious enough to offer his help. We have several hammers, but I am opting for a rubber mallet, because it looks more like what the characters of Looney Tunes would use.
In the meantime, I will drink lots of tea and coffee.
This is a problem, because you can't just quit life because you aren't sleeping. People still expect you to show up at work, Orchestra concerts (maybe that's just me), and other social events. They also expect you to wear grown-up clothes instead of a hoodie and jeans, pajamas, or a giant fluffy robe.
You also have to leave your electric blanket at your house, because as of this moment, I don't think they make battery operated electric blankets, and, even if they did, you can't very well wear a blanket around everywhere you go, either.
You also have to deal with the regular trials of life without falling apart, but when you aren't sleeping, you can't really manage that.
Grandpa fell last week. He lives on his own, because he is stubborn, so no one knew he fell until my aunt couldn't reach him the next morning. Fortunately, he hadn't broken any bones or had a heart attack or stroke, but now he's dealing with all kinds of problems relating to the fall, and other problems related to being 90. He is in the hospital's rehab unit now, and will likely be there for the next 10 days. After that, we'll figure out what the next step will be.
Normally, I would be upset. I AM upset. I would want to be there with him as much as I do right now. I would be worried about Grandpa, focused on his care and the various plans we'll have to make to help him out. I would likely be just as worried. Worried, but rested. And rested makes a huge difference with how I cope with all aspects of life.
Unfortunately (and embarrassingly) the combination of sleeplessness and emotion has made me a complete basket case in the evenings. I am train wreck Laura, and the waterworks start at about 10:00 PM. After that, I am of no use to anyone, including myself, because I can't think at all. I am mostly brain dead, and the only function my brain has left is making tears happen. Which means when I finally DO get to see Grandpa, it will be well before 10:00...so I can see him when I am a person instead of a soggy tissue.
No one needs to see a used Kleenex in human form.
Tonight I am going to be in bed at 10:00. I am going to make sleep happen, so I can be helpful to my family. If The Brother has to use a hammer to knock me unconscious, that is what will happen--he has been gracious enough to offer his help. We have several hammers, but I am opting for a rubber mallet, because it looks more like what the characters of Looney Tunes would use.
In the meantime, I will drink lots of tea and coffee.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Hot Glue
Last night Jennifer and I had to make some signs, which led to a Dairy Queen trip for Moolattes and then a trip to Walmart for supplies. Then we went to the library, where the die-cut machine lives. We made letters. Jennifer glued the letters together to make them seem embossed. And then came the hot glue.
I am not grown up enough to use hot glue, apparently. Either that, or I lack the necessary coordination, because my coworkers have refused to let me use hot glue ever since my first summer at the library, when I dribbled hot glue down my thumb one evening and then dropped a quarter-sized dollop on my thigh the next. Both incidents led to huge blisters (although the one on my leg wasn't noticeable through pants) and my hot glue privileges were taken away.
I can use low-heat glue guns, but still lack expertise. It is an art, hot gluing. Not everyone can manage it, and I certainly can't.
So last night, one of our letters had the layers separated, and I grabbed at the layer that was falling, leading to my burning both index fingers and both thumbs, then dropping my letter on top of our poster board, leading to me scraping off the hot glue and then trying to ineffectually conceal the scrapes with white-out.
I also had to peel chunks of hot glue off my fingers, which led me to be relieved that 1. I am done knitting the three baby sweaters I needed to knit this month and 2. I have knitting calluses on my index fingers that may just have prevented blistering.
Jennifer then wrote a parody of Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" with new lyrics that were all about me burning myself with hot glue. It was a masterpiece. Here's a sample, "There were nights of endless blisters, it was more than any burn before..."
Genius.
Maybe if we cajole Jennifer, she can actually rewrite the WHOLE song, and then we can make it the theme song of this blog, because blogs clearly need theme songs now for some reason.
What do you think, Jen? Should the burn song be the theme, or should it be this one?
That's how serious we are around here.*
*Hint: We are not serious at all. Also, there is only one of me, so there's that, too.
I am not grown up enough to use hot glue, apparently. Either that, or I lack the necessary coordination, because my coworkers have refused to let me use hot glue ever since my first summer at the library, when I dribbled hot glue down my thumb one evening and then dropped a quarter-sized dollop on my thigh the next. Both incidents led to huge blisters (although the one on my leg wasn't noticeable through pants) and my hot glue privileges were taken away.
I can use low-heat glue guns, but still lack expertise. It is an art, hot gluing. Not everyone can manage it, and I certainly can't.
So last night, one of our letters had the layers separated, and I grabbed at the layer that was falling, leading to my burning both index fingers and both thumbs, then dropping my letter on top of our poster board, leading to me scraping off the hot glue and then trying to ineffectually conceal the scrapes with white-out.
I also had to peel chunks of hot glue off my fingers, which led me to be relieved that 1. I am done knitting the three baby sweaters I needed to knit this month and 2. I have knitting calluses on my index fingers that may just have prevented blistering.
Jennifer then wrote a parody of Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" with new lyrics that were all about me burning myself with hot glue. It was a masterpiece. Here's a sample, "There were nights of endless blisters, it was more than any burn before..."
Genius.
Maybe if we cajole Jennifer, she can actually rewrite the WHOLE song, and then we can make it the theme song of this blog, because blogs clearly need theme songs now for some reason.
What do you think, Jen? Should the burn song be the theme, or should it be this one?
That's how serious we are around here.*
*Hint: We are not serious at all. Also, there is only one of me, so there's that, too.
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