For the past few days I've had that lyric running through my head at various times of day. It'd almost be ok, were it not for the fact that it's from Kris Kross, the backwards clothes wearin kiddie rap group of the early 90's. I don't know what prompted it to pop into my head. Maybe by writing it I'll move onto more meaningful and deeper lyrics. It's not like I've listened to that album recently (though I do still own it, owing to my CD hoarding complex).
We're almost at the halfway point of another year. It seems that once again the year started out with great promise and now I question whether or not that promise will hold true. Granted, 1/4 of the year was spent trying to get out of winter. With temps this weekend in the low 90's, summer is about to be full on with longer days, outdoor activities, and other such delights requiring less outerwear. Oh, and it's convertible weather. The convertible tan has started, although there's still a lot of summer and a lot more tan to be had.
My New Years resolution of trying to swim 150 miles this year is painfully not happening. Between getting sick, cutting back for class (swimming wears me out) and other such lame excuses for not hitting the pool, I'll be doing good to swim over 100 miles this year. Which is pretty much what I swam last year.
I pretty much phoned in my Mom's retirement party weekend seeing as I came down with the sickness. It was about as close to strep throat you can get without getting strep, at least according to the doctors. I made the drive up to Illinois and the longer it went the worse I felt. Thinking it might be because of a lack of food, I chowed down at the semi-formal dinner, at least as much as possible without feeling like I overdid it. I go out of my way to avoid puking (then again, who enjoys it) but I knew I was running on empty. I felt better but the fever, despite earlier Ibuprofen, was raging. I avoided the alcohol at the cash bar seeing as they wanted $4 a bottle for swill (let's just say they had Lite in their name) and the wine selection did not look so hot. Afterwards my brother and I hit the Irish pub in downtown Belleville (I guess there's a first for everything) and I had a pint of Guinness. I figured it's probably the healthiest beer to combat whatever I was coming down with... along with plenty of water. After the pint I called it a night and by the time I got to my car the chills kicked in. It was probably at least 70 degrees out, if not warmer and here I am driving down the road with my heater running full blast. I walked in, downed some more pills and told Mom and Dave that my night was over.
Saturday I woke up feeling hot, and not in a studly kind of way. I stumbled into the kitchen in the name of downing more pills and proceeded to drench myself in what I've taken to calling "my own personal rainstorm". Those that have been around me enough know that I tend to sweat at the least bit of physical exertion (and not cause I'm out of shape). This was just walking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. It was all I could do to make it back to bed at which point I passed out. I pulled it together enough to take Laurie, Dad, Jeff and Aunt Bonnie out to lunch. Aside from my painfully swollen throat I managed to make it through most of my food. I got back home and proceeded to crash again. Mom said I should go to the clinic if I did not feel better, I told her I wanted to get some sleep. I woke up around the time that people started showing up for the other retirement party... and still not feeling good. I was burning up again and I decided if I was going to go to the doctor now would be the time. Mom proceeds to take my temperature while she talks my brother into taking me to the clinic. 104 is what she's reading on the thermometer and Jeff is instructing me to let him know if I'm going to puke. I try to convince him it's not an upset stomach but I suspect he thinks otherwise.
At the clinic the nurse takes my vitals. Her thermometer hits 105 and I think she begins to panic. "Um, you might have to go to the hospital with this fever." She runs out to get someone to give me some tylenol while they then try to make arrangements from my brother to get my information. Jeff not knowing anything about my life in Nashville forces someone else to ask me questions, which I think is what saved me from a trip. The fact that I could joke, answer the questions, and in general not hallucinate considering the fever I think assured them that I was of relatively sane mind.
After some wrangling about what they were going to prescribe me (Yeah, I know I said I was alergic to that, but I suspect this other stuff sharing the same suffix will probably do the same thing and I really don't want to be puking as a result) I get my pills and head to Walgreens #1. Only to find that at 7pm on a Saturday their pharmacy is closed. WTF? Walgreens has double doors, both of which indicate you can go in and out of them. As we're walking out some woman informs my brother and I that we're going the wrong way. I realized after I got outside I should have told her off seeing as I don't live in Illinois anymore... and well I really did not appreciate her attitude. Jeff and I had a good laugh on our way to Walgreens #2...
Which I'm pretty sure had to get my prescription from the other Walgreens. I could not figure out what was taking so long. Some ex-military guy who was telling his son how to work the military system described the wait as the Bataan Death March, though I don't think he was old enough to have experienced it first hand. I'm pretty sure I waited longer to get my prescription than I spent at the clinic. I finally got my pills and was on my way back home. From there I drugged myself up, ate some of the food, acknowledged a few people at the party and then once again crashed.
Sunday was Mother's Day. As Mom put it, she got to play Mom on Mother's Day. She hit the store and returned with Jello, orange juice, Saltine Crackers, and Gatorade, just what I ordered. I felt good enough to get up for lunch and found my niece was dressed up in some sort of craziness, running around and being her usual entertaining self. After that it was back to bed. I finally left Illinois on Tuesday, accomplishing little of my goals for the weekend which was to have a good time and enjoy seeing family for the first time since Christmas. I did catch up on TV though... and the day before Jerry Fawell died I caught the tail end of "The People vs. Larry Flynt".
And now we're back to our regularly scheduled swimming and running...
And it's over halfway into May.
Big shout out to Memphis Jon who got hitched to the wonderful Alanna at the end of April. I'm still having nightmares involving Mr. Roboto but the wedding was a blast. Drinky McDrinksalot (not me) turned into Pukey McPukesalot on the drive back to Nashville. I'm still trying to figure out how I drank that much wine and felt like a champ the next day. I'm not complaining. Maybe it was the jump into the pool after the wedding? Some sort of osmosis? Yeah, that's the ticket.
May is making up for the otherwise sucky April (Jon's wedding, Neko Case show, and the Stax museum noteable exceptions). I started the month off finding out I received an A in my Ethics class. That class went really well and I wish I could take another class from that professor. Unfortunately he's retiring so that's that. I learned quite a bit and while I'm not sure I'm ethical, I definately know more about philosophical ethics than when I started.
I know, short. Lots to write, not enough time to write it, and not feeling the pull...
Made up Band Name of the Day: Annual Local 881 Shop Stewards Meeting