Nina Lewis

This is the second time in a month that I’ve had a cold.

I’m going to protest.

I’m going to throw myself on the floor, pound my fists, kick my feet, and scream.

Wait.  I don’t have the breath capacity to scream.  I don’t have a voice to scream.

Maybe I ought to go eat worms.

What I would like to know, is what is it about colds that make it so you can’t breathe?  What is it that makes your nose run even if it is so stuffed up you can’t breathe?  What is it that produces so much lovely green mucous when you blow your nose — even if you can’t breathe?  (’m not really looking for answers.  I’m just philosophizing here . . .)

I’ve been doing really good to get 7-8 hours of sleep each night.  You’d think that would help so I wouldn’t get sick . . .  I’m in the habit of taking vitamins and an extra vitamin C tablet.  You’d think that would help so I wouldn’t get sick. . . . I’m trying to eat healthy.  Drink plenty of water.

Colds.  Bah!

I love the Beatle’s Rock Band.  I love to play the drums.  If I had learned how fun drumming was when I was a kid, I would probably have been in a band — and would probably turned out to be a far different person than I am now.

My good friend, Denise, sent me this video.  I laughed and laughed and laughed.  I am so like the drummer!

YouTube Preview Image

Friday during lunch time, a co-worker stood in my office door.  Pale.  Trembling.  “I think I’ve broken my fingers,” she said.

I immediately sat her down.  I rushed to our office fridge to get ice to control the swelling.  No ice.  I used a Ziplock bag full of sugar peas.

I cleaned and bandaged her scraped knee.  I took her to the university’s health center.  I sat with her in the waiting room.  (I wasn’t in the room when they had to re-locate one finger two times.  I’m glad.)

I sat with her as the doctor explained the options of what to do next.  After spending the whole afternoon at the health center, I drove her home. I sent an e-mail the next day asking how she was.

When she came to work yesterday, I asked how things went over the week-end.  Were you able to sleep at nights?  Was it too painful?  How was she able to manage doing things one-handed?

Mid-morning, she had an appointment with a hand specialist.  When she came back to work, she had different bandages around her hand.  She had broken all three fingers!  However, the doctor didn’t think that surgery was necessary.  Great news!

I was busily working away at my desk in the early afternoon when once again she stood in my doorway.  This time, she held a flower in her hand.  (Her good hand.)  “Thank you for all of your support,” she said.

A flower!  I was very touched.  I didn’t think I had done anything special.  I was touched by her thoughtfulness.

I thought back to the girl throwing up on the bus that I helped.  And the sick girl on the bathroom floor.  And now the co-worker with the broken fingers.  I must be in the right time at the right place to provide assistance to those in need.

And I’m glad!

All of my socks are like Swiss cheese now — thanks to my little red shoes.  All of them.  Every last stinkin’ one of ‘em.  Except Swiss cheese has more substance.  Guess I’d better go sock shopping soon.

I heart our new mattress. I heart, heart, heart it.  (I don’t think my husband does, though.)  I also heart our 400 thread count sheets.  Such luxury.

I think I’ve solved my Rice Cooker blues.  (Lisa — not my daughter-in-law-Lisa — the key is to rinse, and rinse, and rinse, and rinse, and rinse the rice.  This gets rid of the surface starches that boil up and out of the little vent hole in the lid.)  Last night, I rinsed my rice thoroughly (until it looked skeletal) and only had minimal goo coming out of the vent.  Wahoo!

Question:  How many hours do I have to use my Wii Fitness Plus to burn all of the calories that I have eaten (and am still eating and will yet eat) from the divine homemade licorice that Tyler and Lisa made and gave to us?  Please don’t tell me the answer.  I don’t want to be discouraged. I’d have to slit my wrists if I found out how much. . . .

When I get the recipe for the licorice, I’ll post it here.  It’s supposed to be easy.  But be warned.  It is addictive — that is if you like licorice.

Mmmmm . . . this is most interesting. Wonder what November 2010 really be like . . .

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