First page of the sick archive.

z-pac, work your magic

Posted by jessica on Jul 22, 2009 with No Comments
in Thoughts and Feelings
as , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I am under strict orders from my husband to do absolutely nothing.

And now, while he’s at work, he keeps texting me with this question: are you drinking your water?
At which point I proceed to grab my trusty water bottle that is sitting nearby, take a sip, and then text back: yes.
It would seem that Drew is not in love with the idea of a sick wife, not if he can help it, anyway.
And he has helped it. He took me to the doctor this morning, after three straight days of my fever not breaking, has proceeded to cancel my pilates class I was supposed to teach tomorrow (which is a real bummer; I truly enjoy it), and even forbade me from cleaning the house tonight.
I guess he’s really worried about me; usually he truly appreciates a clean house.
So I am laying like a lump on my bed, surrounded by books, cats, and my computer, waiting for the z-pac the doctor gave me to kick in…But well, being sick is kind of boring. And frustrating. Here I am, at home, and not able to hang out with any of the fantastic people I am so wanting to see; I am with my piano, but being sick takes all the creativity right out of me, it seems.
Isn’t it ironic? as Alanis Morissette would say.
But I am going to trust that tomorrow is going to find me feeling much better, that I will be back to my self again and ready to take on the world.
Or at least, you know, Newark, Delaware.

on why a small component of my present reality is dumb while most of it remains awesome.

Posted by jessica on Jul 20, 2009 with No Comments
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Loved Ones, Thoughts and Feelings
as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This is dumb.

I’ve been looking forward to coming home for this glorious stretch of three weeks that have nothing whatsoever to do with a leotard or heels or a 5, 6, 7, 8! and well, the fact that I am now laying in bed with a 100 degree fever, all hot and heavy and sporting a case of under-the-weather-edness that makes my limbs feel like more than I could ever lift and my body all achy is just plain dumb.
And I guess the fact that I just taught an hour long Pilates class didn’t exactly help, either; but hey, if I have to feel feverish right now, at least my abs are feeling flatter at the same time, so thank you for that, Joseph Pilates.
Because abs are what you care about most when you’re laying in bed, flicking off imaginary spiders, your skin is crawling so much.
But the fact that I have been feeling progressively worse throughout the day cannot take away some of the simple and lovely things that remind me why I love home.
The husband who sleeps beside me, and sends me a text first thing in the morning instead of, you know, actually using his voice and speaking to the person who is literally inches away from him. And not just any text, either: googly eyes. Cartoon-style. With a question mark following, his way of asking me if I am, in fact, awake.
My text back?
Zzz

Because no, Drew Copeland, I was not awake yet; my eyes were firmly and contentedly shut–at least they were until I was forced to open them and gaze upon the googly eyes you just sent my way. Oh, and if Journey blares from your alarm clock one more time, well then, let’s just say that anyway you want it will not be happening for you any time soon.
My three year old nephew, running at full-tilt-boogie on chubby sneakers that are delightfully called froggies and that house even chubbier feet as they cross the distance from his momma into my arms.
A gaggle of nieces, all hilarious and pretty and full of a wonder I hope they never lose, enfolding me in a group hug, causing all of our brown eyes to light up.
Another nephew sitting close beside me as we watch Fern Gully; I am now forever grateful that acid rain does not, to my knowledge, actually take the form of some shadowy Elvis impersonator and wreak havoc on our lives.
Working through another song with Drew, his fingers finding the chords on the guitar that keep pace with my melody and lyrics.
My parents. Always ready and happy to see me, to welcome me home, to keep me assured of the things that matter most like family, love, humor, God, green things growing, dogs that look like magical creatures, and cherry tomatoes (or so my pop would say).
And of course, throw in some brothers and some gorgeous sisters, and really, it doesn’t get much better than this, as homecomings go.
Okay, well maybe it would be better if I weren’t feeling sick as a dog, but still. I’m home…which outweighs anything else at the moment.