current, simple truths

Since last Saturday night, I have battled (yes, outright battled) a series of one infection and 2 viruses. I finished a 7-day stint with antibiotics for the infection yesterday. And proceeded to mostly lose my voice (as the 3rd part of my fun).

I almost shed a tear seeing Curtis Granderson in a Yankees uniform.

I came up with 89 different ways to cure the common cold. I think the 89th–baseball, Smartwater, and Jack Kerouac–was the winner….

I still can’t really talk.

60% of the time I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m usually having a lot of fun. The other 40% of the time, I’ve literally just said “f@$! it” and continued with my insanity.

Every time I hear “TiK ToK,” I wonder if the kids singing along with it know who Mick Jagger is.

I think there’s a message in every single person I meet–even if I only talk to them for 15 seconds.

Yesterday, I reinstated my coffee privileges (addiction). Today, I reinstated my alcohol privileges.

After reading Dylan Thomas into the wee hours of the night last night, I came across this–
“An alcoholic is someone you don’t like who drinks as much as you do” in his bio. I totally agree.

During the Red Sox/Yankees game, I had a bitter rant against: Jorge Posada, Joe Girardi, Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter. I’ve missed baseball.

I have realized that I could sit in my apartment for a pretty long time just reading and writing. Well, with a daily walk for air.

My prayer/meditation is ridiculously strong right now.

I need to stop cursing. Really. It’s a little out of control.

I love that the last 6 incoming text messages in my phone are all one-word answers (clearly, all boys–don’t get the wrong idea, I’m related to half of them). And I doubly love that I take that as a cue to shut up. I haven’t been a big sister for 26 years for nothing.

As a service to humanity, my mother helped me devise a list of simple things one must be able to do to be able to converse with me.

I have lived in fear of the sacrilege of my “baby Jesus” comment from last week for the past 6 days. My mother reminded me of how terrified I was of the baby Jesus as a child. She laughed at me. (I’m sorry, but I’m 99% sure that Jesus never wore a cape.)

Dustin Kensrue makes me smile.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s