Oh the irony

I know, you’re tired of hearing about my eyes… but here’s where we are. I took a picture this morning because it looked so brutal, but now I’m chickening out on actually posting it. Instead I’ll tell you honestly: the eyes keep getting worse. They swell more at night and I wake up puffy. They itch and hurt and sting. Ugh. Yesterday (Monday), we had our 7.30 am meeting at work which I got there in plenty of time to do meeting prep (so it was ridiculously early). I decided to skip the eyeliner but still put on mascara and eye shadow, so as to not look like a complete wreck.  At the meeting, I sat between my boss D and my coworker B.  D looked at me funny a few times bit. Ah well. After the meeting, B had to run out and called me “Did you get ANY sleep last night?”  Me: “Uhhh yeah I went to bed early… why?  oooh.  My eyes are just really bad.”  B: “And when are you going to see a doctor???”  A few minutes later C came in to barrage me with Monday morning issues, “Maureen are you okay today?”  Me: Ahhhhhh it’s just my eyes. They’re infected or something. I’m fine!!  Craig: GO TO THE DOCTOR.  Sigh. I realized I look like hell, but had hoped the glasses were hiding it more. Oh well.

Tuesday the swelling was worse still. So I headed for the urgent care clinic before work (awesomely enough this job I bust my butt on day after day doesn’t provide health insurance and my catastrophe coverage is only for major stuff, ugh.)  Anyway, the doctor at the clinic couldn’t be sure what it was. She’s prone to think it is some kind of allergy although I haven’t changed anything- not my make up, my lotion, my face cleaner, my laundry detergent, my pets… nothing.  She said she’s still going to treat for allergies and possible secondary infection.  So… wait for it… she’s prescribed me prednisone and antibiotics—same as Suzie gets. 

So yeah, I am now on the same drugs as my dog for the same problem as my dog.  We are quite a pair. I just hope it doesn’t make me have to pee on the kitchen floor.

I actually think I am allergic to major burn out from my job… not sure how that translates to this horrible look, but that’s my own personal diagnosis. As I left the clinic, the doctor said nicely ”I hope you feel better.” To which I responded, “I hope I LOOK better!” and it’s true. Sigh. I don’t think I am a very vain person, but when I looked in the mirror this morning, I suddenly realized I simply did not want to be seen by anyone like this—maybe I’m more vain than I think!!

February is approaching

I am finding myself in the thick of a Michigan winter… which basically just means dark, gray, gloomy, cold, and long. On top of that, my job continues at a break neck pace which just exhausts me. Some day there will be relief, but it is quite a way off right now. My boss is trying to cheer me up by promising a week’s vacation once we have a new person trained up and functional…. but like I said, that relief is a long way out. Right now I am concentrating on surviving… and trying to draw healthy boundaries.

In the meantime, I am working on my February survival list. The February Survival List is a list of things that help me survive the dreariness of that very long (and yet short) month. Things that are life giving in the midst of Seasonal Affective Disorder season coupled with Overwhelming Job syndrome, which I have in abundance as well.

Some things I am considering on that list…

• Ice skating
• Some sort of February party (I’ve only been planning to host something since like August and still can’t get my act together)
• Game night
• More Catan obsession at the Homestead (a fabulous diversion with the Homies)
• Walking the dogs a lot (for good behavior and personal well being)
• Sew bathroom curtains
• Some other crafty project?

I’ve got a few more days to add to it and will certainly take suggestions. In the meantime, what is on YOUR February list?

The Big Game

I keep getting emails in my junk email that say "Get ready for the Big Game" or "MVP Deals for the Big Game," etc. Since I don't care about sports at all, I keep trying to figure out what this Big Game is, and I'm guessing the Super Bowl, though I can't be sure.
In the meantime, all I think when I hear "The Big Game" is THE Big Game on family vacation every year.  Family traditions (and especially vacations traditions) have a way of morphing from year to year. And The Big Game is one that began as a simple pick up game of baseball (tennis ball) one year and has become the highlight of vacation for a certain nephew of mine. And if it is so important to one sweet person, why not make it a tradition, right?

A couple years ago he approached Uncle Doug, the activities director on vacation, to plan for The Big Game. He finds Uncle Doug and begins, "So. When should we do the big game?"  Since this was a new tradition (one that only the year before had been a simple pick up game of little significance to most of us), my unsuspecting uncle didn't know what this game was. "Big Game?" he asked innocently.  "The Big Game." Geno pulled out his scrap of paper where he'd begun dividing up teams. He wrote up rosters of who he thought should be on each team. Oh. That big game. Right.

So here's to the Big Game... the one that I actually care about... I wish it was coming up as soon as that other big game...

Ordinary Time

This past Sunday marks the Ordinary Time. It is a little sad to be done with Christmas and all the celebrations- both liturgically and in the rest of my life. On the other hand, it is a relief to be heading back into “real” life. I absolutely love Christmas- I love the liturgies, the reason we celebrate in all of it’s mystery, the decorations, the parties, seeing family, giving gifts, special baking… yeah, I really do love it all. And yet, it does add a lot of activity and chaos into those few weeks surrounding it so that once it is done, you can breathe a sigh of relief. No parties or required functions for at least a month!

This week I took down the Christmas tree, the living room is back to normal, and I need to pack up the rest of the decorations. 

And yet on a deeper level, we aren’t supposed to just celebrate Christmas with all of it’s fanfare and then move on. Go back to “real” life as though it never happened. We are supposed to move forward stronger, more hopeful, more filled with that Babe who was born in Bethlehem so long ago, more empowered to go forth and be the Light that shines in the darkness to those around us. I’m thinking about leaving my nativity up for awhile. I need that reminder. The humble beginnings. The beautiful simplicity of Mary just gazing at her newborn babe. I need to be there- gazing at the King. Taking time to just be filled with his sweetness and his presence so I can be about the work he is calling me to.

Happy Ordinary Time! Come Lord Jesus!  

It’s over man

Maggie got ahold of the new toy: The squeakers have both been removed (the toy is now missing a face and a large piece of tail. And she removed the water bottle and the part of the toy that was meant to keep the water bottle in… lest we try to reuse ANY part of this toy. Thank you Maggie. 

Life with a squeaker…

Last week when Suzie spent a day at the office with me, she discovered (again) how much she loves toys with squeakers. Craig gave her his dog’s office toy and she squeaked away on it for a bit in my office, reminding me of our own quiet home… not a squeaker to be found. It comes to this: Maggie un-squeakers toys even faster than she can un-stuff toys. So… in this home, we don’t buy dog toys of the squeaky or the stuffed variety very often, just isn’t worth it. 

The last one was one of those currently trendy toys that look like a dead animal but they don’t have any stuffing (hello right up our alley). But they are great fun to squeak and toss about as though they are a real raccoon. Somehow Suzie managed to keep it away from Maggie for over a week. But that one day she turned her back… yeah, 2.5 seconds later, the head was ripped open and the squeaker was gone. Done.

My last trip to Target I found another non-stuffed toy that holds a water bottle, so it makes all kinds of fun bottle squishing sounds when you chew it. I thought I’d give it a try. Suzie is pretty excited, tossing it in the air, squishing and chewing the bottle part, and finding some squeakers. Maggie is pacing, trying to figure out how to lure Suzie away from it so she can unsqueak it… and I sit here tiredly entertained at the whole scene and the joy caused by a cheap toy with a water bottle and a squeaker.

At the beginning of this post, I am pretty sure there was some correlation to my own life, but now I’m so distracted by my ridiculous dog chasing a toy with a squeaker I’ve lost all depth and have seriously just written a blog post about dog toys.

Maybe I should make this one of those “choose your own ending” stories:

The moral of the story:

A. Enjoy the squeaker while it lasts.

B. Don’t put all your squeakers in one basket.

C. Enjoy the simple pleasures in life and keep your squeaker away from Maggie.

D. Yeah….

Okay, somebody put me out of my misery now