The World According to Angie

An all-too familiar sight...

Yesterday's doctor's appointment went well, I guess, all things considered.  His best guess is that I did some damage to the tendons at the top of my shoulder, where the bicep attaches.  My range of motion is great, so he doesn't think it's torn completely, but he thinks it's "frayed" ... which explains the intense, shooting pain every time I put stress on it.

He wants me to rest it, ice it a couple times a day, exercise it a little (with these pendulum exercises that hurt like hell), and he's put me on anti-inflammatories that are absolutely killing my stomach.  If it's not improved in a week or so, I'm supposed to go see a specialist.

Which made for a humorous moment: I'm on the exam table, Jim's sitting there in one of the chairs, and my doctor says, "If it's not improved, you'll need to go see a shoulder specialist."  I look over at Jim, and start laughing.  "Like Dr. Schacherer?"  My MD did a double-take.  "Well, yeah, he'd be at the top of my list ... why, do you know him?"  And Jim sighs and says, "Yeah, he repaired my shoulder separation last September..."

I'm going to be extremely optimistic and believe that this is going to repair itself with a little rest and TLC, and that'll be the end of it.  But in order to get some of that rest, I'm in a sling ... and does this look a little familiar to anyone?

Yes, my friends ... we're recycling the smaller of Jim's two slings from last fall.  (See it in the photo in this post.)  I look rather pathetic, don't I?

I have a newfound respect for Jim, and how much he dealt in silence with his injury last fall.  He was in MUCH more pain than I am, and his "broken wing" was on the right - his dominant hand - whereas mine is on the left, my non-dominant one.  I'm trying hard not to whine too much, but I will admit that I curled up on the couch last night right after dinner, and slept ... and slept ... and slept.  Pretty pathetic.

I've decided, though, that Jim and I are just cursed when it comes to moving.  Jim hurts his shoulder right before moving from his apartment to his house.  I hurt my shoulder in the process of packing to move from my apartment into his house and my new efficiency apartment.  This is a sign: we just need to not make any more moves for a very, very long time...

The healing power of touch

I dragged myself from Richardson to Frisco today, feeling black-and-blue from a long day of system testing and fending off requests for everything else until we get this project to the point of signoff for a production move this weekend ... but after an hour with the massage therapist, and about five minutes with Dr. Loughridge, I practically floated back home.

I am a huge believer in the healing power of touch.  Research has proven that massage boosts your immune system, reduces the physical manifestations of stress, aids in pain management, decreases depression, lowers high blood pressure, improves circulation and lymph flow, and improves alertness.  I was literally having a hard time staying awake on the drive there this afternoon ... but I was super-alert on the way home.

And my adjustment with Dr. Loughridge was amazing.  I've heard horror stories of chiropractors who pounce on you, contort your body into uncomfortable positions and then make adjustments that are sudden and violent.  That's not the way Dr. Loughridge works.  He's gentle, and methodical, and prefers to start you off with small adjustments, getting you used to the process, before working you up to more than just the basic back and hip and neck tweaks.

Today, he worked me good, and it made a huge difference in how I felt as I left his office.  Huuuuuuge...

If you don't make time in your monthly schedule for therapeutic massage, you ought to.  Take the time to find yourself a good massage therapist, and set aside both the time and the money to go see them at least twice a month.  I'm blessed that my medical insurance will cover the cost of my massage at Dr. Loughridge's.  But if it didn't, I can tell you who I'd be seeing... Kelly Page.

For anyone in the North Dallas area, I've got to tell you - this woman ROCKS!  She is super-strong both physically and in spirit.  Five minutes with Kelly will brighten your day, but an hour on her massage table ... that'll make everything right!  Contact Kelly directly at kelly@well-in-hand.com ... the very best thing is that she is self-employed, and will come to you.  That's right - a massage in the comfort of your own home!  There's nothing like a full-body deep-tissue massage, and then rolling right off the table and into bed.  Email Kelly - you owe it to yourself!

On the other hand, if you're not in Dallas, but a little further south ... in the San Antonio area, you should check out Spa D'Sante.  I believe "Godsend" is the appropriate term for this place.  It's a day spa with four locations in San Antonio, and their philosophy is that massage therapy should be affordable and accessible to everyone.  A one hour wellness massage is just $35.  Given that the going rate for massage is $1-1.50 a minute ... that's an unbelievable value.  I've been there a number of times, when visiting my Mom & Dad (Mom and I take any excuse we can get to slip away for a girl's afternoon at the spa!) and I can attest to the fact that their therapists are awesome.  They're affiliated with the massage school, so they literally get the first pick, the cream of the crop.

My idea of a perfectly blissful afternoon at Spa d'Sante: a Dead Sea Salt Glow ($25) and a one-hour deep tissue massage ($39).  Let me tell you ... if you've never stripped naked and had a technician buff you from head to toe with salt scrub, and then lie there under heat lamps while you rinse under a Vichy shower ... and then have your freshly-buffed skin get rubbed with essential oils ... you've GOT to try it.

During the Dealer Meetings this spring, I decided to partake of some of the spa offerings while on the road.  It was my theory that by taking extremely good care of myself, I would avoid getting sick.  And, for the most part, it worked.  But I also had a chance to sample some of the top-rated spas in the nation.  And for the most part ... I'd rather spend an afternoon at Spa d'Sante.

Speaking of which ... if you ever find yourself in Southern California, I absolutely recommend the spa at the Pechanga Resort & Casino.  The hotel itself is swank, and the food there is out of this world... (the prawns are as big as your fist, and the hotel's signature cocktail sauce is made with some sort of spice that will totally clear out your sinuses!) ... but their spa was top-notch.  It was expensive, but after being there for an entire week, it was worth it.  I did the body glow and massage package, and indulged in their Honey Body Polish - which was the most bizarre and amazing body scrub I've ever had ... it was made of a paste of honey and crushed almond shells ... so it didn't dry my skin the way that salt does - the almonds did the exfoliation, and the honey moisturized it, but as they rubbed it on it was warm and gooey, and then they left it on and it cooled, and they did my whole body, and so then I was covered with honey and almond shells from head to toe ... and then they sent me in to shower it all off ... sounds weird, but my skin was positively supple afterwards! - and then I spent probably two or three hours lazing around the facilities, taking advantage of all the other amenities.  (You pay $160 for two treatments, you should get ALL you can get from the experience, I say...!)

But again ... that's one of those "once-a-year" indulgences.  If I lived in San Antonio, I'd be at Spa d'Sante on a monthly basis.

As it is, I've got my next appointment with Dr. Loughridge's staff for next Tuesday afternoon.  Ah ... the healing power of touch.  And how blessed I am it's all just for my basic doctor's visit copay...!

He can be pretty deep sometimes

It was over recent a meal that Jim and I spoke about our mutual work-related stress.  I shared with him my concern that we've yet to weather the worst when it comes to me and what I foresee as an impending melt-down.

I told him of a recent conversation with my Director, where I told him that I'm being stretched too far, pulled too thin, and coming close to the breaking point.  My Director's response was, "I'm not sure there's much I can do about it, but then again, you always produce your best when you're under stress."

Jim was dumbfounded, and said, "Yeah, well, you can put a lot of power through a lightbulb, and it'll burn really bright for a short period of time, before it snaps and burns out."

He's not just a pretty face, ladies and gentlemen ... he can be pretty darn deep.  And if that's not one of the most accurate statements I've heard in relation to my work situation recently, I don't know what is.

This week is particularly bad, and I'm trying to do my best to take care of myself in the midst of the storm.  I've got an appointment with my chiropractor this afternoon for a 1-hour massage followed by an adjustment.  I started seeing Dr. Loughridge this spring, at the recommendation of several friends who insisted that adjustments were the cure-all for both migraines and sinus issues.  Although it hasn't fixed either problem, it sure has proven to reduce the tension I carry around in my back and neck, and since my insurance covers those visits - so I get both the massage and the adjustment for just my $20 copay - I'd have to be an idiot to pass it up!

So, right now, I'm just focused on knocking out as much as I can between now and this afternoon, when I get to slip away and head to Frisco for an hour of bliss and relaxation.  Here's hoping each of you can take the time to do at least one self-indulgent thing today ... we really do deserve it!

Recognizing the warning signs...

A blog break ... I'm calling it a quick moment of "stress-relief" ... which is kind of funny, seeing as how that's the topic du jour for this particular post.

With age, they say, comes wisdom.  In my case, I think it's just a slight lessening of my stubborn streak, inasmuch as my health is concerned.  Because apparently, I'm now willing to recognize warning signs a little bit earlier than I used to.  And to actually do something about it.

Case in point - and this might seem like rambling, but bear with me, because I promise it's all related - one week ago today, I admitted to myself that I had a sinus infection.  For a woman who has battled with these things for nearly fifteen years, that mightn't seem so profound.  But this time, I made that admission without having to reach the point of abject misery.

Usually, it takes me weeks of suffering before I'll break down and make an appointment to see my MD about a sinus infection.  By then, it's moved deep inside my head, and often turned into a secondary or even tertiary infection: step throat, or bronchitis, or an ear infection.  But not this time.  No, I recognized the signs early - pain in my face and my teeth, especially upon impact when walking in high heels ... sinus headaches that were increasing in severity ... nausea caused by vertigo ... and the stuff that was breaking loose from deep inside my head that was colors it shouldn't have been (yeah, that's lovely, I know) - so I was actually proactive this time.

Last Thursday, I called Dr. Dansby, the guy who's done two endoscopic sinus surgeries on me and started me on allergy shots this spring when I was STILL having problems.  He was out of the office, but his staff was kind enough to check with the other doctor he offices with, and they phoned in a 15-day supply of a lovely super-strong Cephalasporin antibiotic.

Okay.  So.  With maturity, I'm a little less stubborn.  I'm willing to recognize the warning signs, especially as it pertains to my health, a little bit earlier.

Which leads me to last night, and today.

I think I'm rapidly reaching burnout ... if I'm not there already.  I'm afraid - really and truly afraid - that all the personal stress of the past six weeks (and if you don't know what I'm talking about, you obviously haven't been reading my blog), plus the increasing pressures I'm under at work, which are only going to get worse between now and the 14th of January, and no, I'm not going to get a break for the holidays, it really is only going to get worse - are taking their toll on me.

I'm not just talking about - oooh, I'm feeling stressed, I'm frazzled - which, of course, I am.  But I've sort of learned to live in that state over the years.  You don't serve as a Toastmasters District officer without learning how to live under constant stress.  "Trial by fire," and all that.  I've been doing what I can to take short breaks in-between moments of high-stress ... a little bit of deep breathing, an hour to watch MythBusters with Jim, a few moments to laugh at a joke with a friend ... before I get sucked back into the maelstrom that surrounds me.

But apparently those small spaces of peace I've tried to create in the midst of this intensity aren't enough, and my body is saying "ENOUGH!"

Last night, I became reacquainted with an old friend I haven't heard from in a long time.  Mister Ulcer, say hello to my nice blog readers.  (He just waved.  Fancy that...)

I spent last night on the couch, doubled over in pain, trying really hard not to let Jim know just how badly I was hurting.  I'm back on Zantac for the first time in ... well, a long time.  I'm not entirely sure what's behind this, whether it's stress or that the antibiotic is killing my stomach or maybe a little of both.  I'm not eating super-spicy foods, I'm not drinking caffiene, and I'm (unfortunately) not drinking alcohol, either.  So it's either stress or the antibioitic.  Or maybe both.

I didn't eat this morning, I was still hurting so bad.  Breakfast was a sip of water and another Zantac.  I choked down something from the cafe' at lunch, and I'm doing all right ... but I feel like I'm running around today in a state of low-grade panic.  From meeting to meeting, crisis to crisis, feeling like I'm completely and entirely out of control.  If I had a team of three people working on these projects, then maybe - just maybe - I'd have a shot at getting them all done.  As it is, it's just me ... and it's all finally getting to me.

So, what do I do?  Since I'm apparently recognizing the warning signs of an impending cave-in, what do I do about it?  There's nothing I can do about the work stress.  I've talked to my boss, and "it it what it is" - there's no relief in sight.  He knows what I'm juggling, he knows I'm doing the best I can, and basically, I just have to survive the next three months until I go on the road for my meeting tour.

I am, therefore, at a bit of a loss.  Acknowledging the source of the stress, and recognizing that there's nothing I can do to alleviate it, really hasn't gotten me anywhere ... other than more stressed out.  (How's that for a Catch-22?)

The one thing I think I am going to do, however, is take tonight for myself.  At 5pm today, I'm going to shut down my computer, pack everything up, and head home.  I'm going to change into my pajamas, do a couple loads of laundry, and spend the rest of the evening doing something that is entirely and completely selfishly about me.  I'm not going to reply to emails. I'm not going to prepare for a Toastmasters presentation. I'm not going to update any websites, or club records, or anything else.

I think I might scrapbook.  Or read.  And then take another Zantac, and a soak in the tub, and then crawl into bed.  So I can get up in the morning and head back into the office and start the cycle of stress all over again.

If anyone out there has any ideas on how I can get through the next couple months, please ... share.  Because something else that's coming with this new-found maturity is the realization that I don't have all the answers.

Enough of this pity party.  My blog break is over - I've got a heaping helping of projects and planning and presentations to manage.  Best get back to it.

Ode to my sports bra

I know that some of you are shocked just by the title of this post ... and others of you are shaking your heads thinking, "Of course, that's Angie."

But, yes - tonight's blog posting is an ode to my new sports bra.  And if the open, tongue-in-cheek discussion of ladies' athletic support devices gets you all uncomfortable ... well, just stop reading this post.  Now.  :)

It's a simple, undeniable fact of life: I have been amply endowed by my creator.  It's not something I can - or want to - hide.  It just ... is.

As I mentioned yesterday, Jim and I have begun our training for the Corporate Challenge 5K.  After last night's workout, we stopped by Run On! so I could buy a new pair of running shoes.  (I bought my last pair a year ago, and while they were still fairly okay, I needed a second pair so I can rotate between them, now that we're going to run daily.)

On my way to the cash register, a rack of sports bras caught my eye.  I'm pretty much on a constant quest to find a decent sports bra that will work for me.  It seems they're all designed to take A-B-C cups and squish 'em down... which works fine for normal-chested women.  But seeing as how I have to special-order my regular over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders (since normal stores simply don't carry a band size that small with a cup size that large) and I pay an average of $60-70 apiece for them ... well, what I've had to resort to is wearing two sports bras at the same time to try and squish everything down enough so I can run without giving myself a black eye.

At Run On!, what grabbed my attention was the completely different design of these.  They're full-backed, with a high neckline, and a row of about a dozen hooks for the front closure.  The brand is Enell, and their tagline is "The Bounce Stops Here".  Once I stopped laughing, I was delighted when I realized that their sizing chart showed it's specifically designed for the exceptionally-endowed woman.  (Y'know, the kind with more-than-one letter in her bra size.)

So I grabbed a couple of 'em and headed for the fitting room.  And $63 later (plus my new running shoes, OUCH) I walked out with high hopes that "this might be the one..."

After work, Jim and I hit the gym for a pure cardio burn.  I suited up, and after I figured out that it slips on like a vest, and how to get all those hooks fastened and situate myself in it, I was STUNNED to realize that my chest was completely and entirely out of the way.  Formed and compressed and ... I mean ... I haven't had that much free arm movement without bumping into myself since I was twelve.

And then, I hit the treadmill.

OH MY GOSH.

I am completely and thoroughly IN LOVE with this thing!  No bounce, no rubbing the inside of my arms against my chest as I swing 'em through each step, and I wasn't crushing my ribcage with so much pressure I couldn't breathe.  It was AMAZING.

And when I was done with the 32 minutes on the treadmill, I was floored to realize I had not one single bit of pain or pressure in my back, neck, or shoulders.  The way this thing is designed, it spreads out the force across the entire width of my shoulders and back, that no one point had to carry all the pressure.

Hence, tonight's blog posting as an ode to my new sports bra.  If there are any other "exceptionally blessed" ladies out there who haven't been able to find a compression solution for high-impact activities ... you have GOT to check this out.  The brand is Enell, and their website is here.

Now the only question is this: just how many of these suckers am I gonna have to buy???

too.tired.to.blog.

<moan>  <groan>  <pathetic whine>

I am sooooooo tired .... and soooooooo sore ... and I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow ...

Jim and I spent about 90 minutes at Bally's after work today, putting our bodies through the wringer on the torture devices they call exercise equipment.  The Corporate Challenge 5K is approaching way too fast for my comfort, and since I committed to running it this year with Jim, I've got to get my butt in shape, pronto.

(And since the trails here in Dallas are currently under water, there hasn't been any mountain biking since March ... and I've not been good about pursuing other forms of physical activity.  Said butt is flabby and decidedly out-of-shape.)

Oh, yeah ... did I mention the fact that the last time I ran a full 3 miles straight was back when I was in the 9th grade?  <cringe>

So, back to the gym we go.  I did 28 minutes on the treadmill at a combo of walk-run-walk-run-until-the-stitch-in-my-side-gets-so-bad-I-can't-breathe...  Then, I hit the free weights for Week 1 Day 2's Total Body Sculpting Workout routine.  I pushed through two modified compound supersets of dumbbell squats ... dumbbell lunges ... ballet squats ... deadlifts ... interminable rounds of calf lifts ... upright rows ... and triceps kickbacks.

And if THAT's not enough, then I did two sets of leg lifts and crunches.

I am not going to be able to MOVE tomorrow, let alone walk........ but I guess I feel pretty virtuous for having pushed through today's workout.

And that being said ... I'm too tired to blog.  G'night!

Ramblings of a (healthier) mind

Well, I'm not precisely turning handsprings and cartwheels, but I'm starting to feel a bit more like normal.

I managed a half day at the office today, and I'm so glad I went in.  Being gone for a full week, I was starting to feel ... well, twitchy.  I'm lucky Lennox has a very liberal sick-time policy.  That is, we don't have one.  For salaried employees, sick time is treated just like personal time: at manager's discretion.  Some managers require documentation if you're out for more than a certain number of days, and short-term disability starts if you're out more than 2 weeks, but primarily it's on "on-your-honor" kind of thing.

Which is GREAT.  I know other companies actually grant so many hours of sick time per pay period, and it's treated much like vacation time.  If you're sick, you use it, and if you're not, you can use it for additional time off work.  Which is nice if you don't ever get sick, but it also encourages people to come to the office when they're ill and really should be home in bed ... which then means they're sharing germs with everyone else.  Not good for overall company health.

But I still wasn't getting great vibes from my boss.  The one phone call I had with him this week was sort of disjointed, and the emails I was sending weren't getting any responses at all.  So since I was finally meeting my MD's criteria for return to work (no fever!) I decided to go in.

It was funny - my "grand-boss" was one of the very first people I ran into.  (My boss's new boss, that is.)  He took one look at me and his face split into this big ol' grin, and he welcomed me back very warmly, asked how I was doing, and said they'd missed me.  Made me feel really good!

And then I went upstairs to deliver the paperwork to my boss, and I got an entirely different reception.  He acted strange about the note from my MD ... just tossed it aside on his desk ... and was just ... well, disconnected.  I told him I wasn't back to 100% and would probably only be there for a half-day, but that I wanted to come in and knock some stuff out.  He said just to let him know if and when I left.

I dearly love working for this man, but we go through these phases where I feel like we're just not connecting real well.  <chuckle>  I guess it's kind of like a marriage, where you're getting along better at some times than you are at others ... which makes sense, given that I've been working for him for the past 3 years, and "with" him in one capacity or another since 2001.

I also know he's under HUGE amounts of stress right now since they've expanded his job responsibilities.  And the other eBusiness manager is about to be gone on 8 weeks of maternity leave.  And I have GOT to learn not to take things so personally.  Not everything is about me.

But, still, I'm glad I spent those four hours at the office today.

Then, I managed lunch with my Jim, which was a huge treat ... we grabbed sourdough burgers at BJ's (which is one of my favorite places to go with him, since they have The Dew) ... of course, we sat there talking way too long, but what do you expect?  It's been several days, and we're both talkers.  (Yeah, put on your suprised face, go ahead...)

He's taking his kids to Arkansas tonight to spend Father's Day weekend with his family.  And since I was supposed to be in Springfield (right now, I should have been cuddling on the couch with my two nieces, grrrr...) now I have an entire weekend, stretching before me, with boundless possibilities...

...which is another way of saying I have not a damn thing on my calendar, and no clue what I'm going to do with the time.

My primary focus, of course, is to finish kicking whatever-it-is-I've-been-sick-with (still no call from my MD today to tell me those test results, which means it may be Monday before I hear from him) but two whole days (and tonight, gotta count tonight) with no one I have to see and nothing I have to do.

I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with myself!

I think, tomorrow morning, I may throw all the windows wide open to let in the sunlight and spend a few hours playing in my studio.  It's time to see if I can't get past this scrapbooking block and actually turn out a couple completed pages.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll tackle the fright that is my closet beneath the stairs.  <shudder>  It's packed floor-to-ceiling with stuff, and now there's a giant pile outside the door that's growing by the day.  I would feel so good, so very VERY good, if I could knock that out this weekend.

Now, to end this rambling entry (this is probably the electronic equivalent of talking to myself) with something halfway meaningful: a book review.

I started - and finished - Michael Crichton's Timeframe while I've been out sick.  I bought it in hardcover at Half-Price Books some time ago, and never got around to reading it.  It was typical Crichton: fallible characters you couldn't help but care about, big-bad corporate guys, and just enough techno-babble to make you feel like it might just be true.  This is the one where a company has used research into quantum mechanics to design a machine that can transport objects - or people - elsewhere in the "multiverse".  In other words, time travel.  And they wind up with someone stranded in 14th-century France, and have to send a team in to retrieve him.  The fascinating part is that the guy who's stranded is a professor, and the team that retrieves him are graduate students who were working with him on the archaelogical dig of the ruins of the very castle and environs he's now stuck in.

It's not exactly what one would call "great literature", nor is it one of Chrichton's best, but it was certainly enjoyable.  Not one I'll go back and read again, but I dug it.

So, there you have it.  More of my inane ramblings, for whatever they might be worth.  Hopefully, from here on out, you won't be listening to me whine about being sick.  Heaven knows I've had enough of THAT for a good, long while.  I'm ready to get back to the gym, and - weather willing - back on the trail.  I'm hoping Jim and I might be able to manage at least an easy ride next week.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Putting it all in perspective

I haven't posted in a couple days because my blog entries would have all sounded the same: "I'm sick.  I'm miserable.  I'm tired.  And I'm tired of being sick."

Here we are on Wednesday... my fever has dropped to "low-grade" but I've sprouted a lovely rash from head-to-toe.  It's not anything terribly ooky ... it just looks like little pinpricks allllllllll over me.  And I mean all over me.  But a rash is not a sign one is getting better, so away I went to the doc.

My allergist said "no dice" on this week's allergy shot.  And he sent me to see my MD.  My MD (after keeping me waiting both in the lobby and in the exam room for nearly 2 hours) came to the conclusion that I either have a strep infection, or mononucleosis.  So he did not one, but two throat cultures (with a side order of gag reflex, thankyouverymuch) and they drew blood while they were at it.

And he sent me home with a prescription for an antiobitic, instructions not to return to work until the fever & rash are gone, and - oh, yeah - instructions that I am NOT to travel this weekend.

Which has me feeling REALLY sorry for myself.  I used AA miles to get a ticket to Springfield for the weekend, to visit my brother & sister-in-law and their two beautiful girls.  I haven't seen Gabby and Lyla since Christmas, and the way it stands now, I won't see Lyla again until after her first birthday.

Oh, yeah - and my folks are in town tonight, staying over before they drive on to Springfield in the morning (we were all meeting up there for the weekend) and seeing as how I'm sick, and contagious, they decided they don't want to meet for dinner after all.  They'll just see me when they come back through next week.

Understandable, all around.  But I'm still feeling VERY sorry for myself.

Until, that is, I get an email from Tim Swearingen.

Tim was a District Governor for Toastmasters during the same year I served, for District 3 in Arizona.  Tim's a big bear of a guy, with a wicked sense of humor and an exceptionally keen wit.  And I missed seeing Tim at the Region conference last weekend.

His email explained why.

Tim's wife, Lynn, was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  In early June, she had a full hysterectomy, and was recovering very well ... and then yesterday, they discovered the cancer spread to her lymph nodes - which means she'll begin 18 weeks of chemo.

I cannot begin to describe just how small I felt after reading Tim's note.  He and his wife are struggling with serious life-and-death medical issues ... and I'm whining about having a fever and a rash?!?!

Even if this does turn out to be mono - meaning weeks of recovery until I'm back to full-speed - that's nothing.  Absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things, compared to how serious it could be.

So it's with a grateful heart that I say a prayer for Lynn and Tim, and wish them both the all the best in the weeks to come.

That definitely puts it in perspective, y'know?

I don't "do" fevers well...

Good news: I'm not sick with a sinus infection.  At least, I don't think that's the primary issue, anyway.

Bad news: I'm rediscovering just how BADLY I "do" fevers.

I generally don't run a fever.  I mean, 99 degrees is high for me.  The best you'll see from me with strep throat or a sinus infection is a low-grade fever.  But right now, my thermometer is pegging 102.

So, rather than the sinus infection I suspected I had, it appears I've picked up the virus Jim battled for several days last week.

I'm trying to keep this in perspective: at least this isn't a stomach bug.  If I don't do "fevers" well, I do "puky" even less so.  <shudder>  But I'm just generally miserable.  I feel like my skin is on fire, I'm aching and burning from head to toe, I'm weak and my neck is stiff and my head is KILLING me.  Not migraine-killing-me, but I-have-a-fever-of-102-killing-me.

So, I'm home from work.  I'll consider it a mercy to my co-workers as much as the fact that I couldn't bear the thought of getting out of my pj's - and more than 10 feet from my bed - right now.  I'm going to go dose up on NyQuil and sleep until lunchtime, when I think Jim is coming over to make me soup.

He's such a good guy ... even if he did probably share this with me.

Off to bed I go.  Thanks for listening to me ramble and complain.  <whimper>

Typical ... post-conference "bonus"

Well, the Region III Conference is over, and I'm back home.  And I'm sick.

Y'know, I tried to pace myself, I was religious about handwashing, I didn't have but two drinks the entire weekend ... but apparently, I now have another sinus infection.  I'm aching from head-to-toe, I'm exhausted, and my face feels like it's caving in.

You can see it in the one photo I got last night. (This is a self-portrait of Jim and me sitting at dinner... I'm getting pretty good at these!)  But despite the fact that I got all dressed up, I still felt like crud, and ended up leaving before the contest.  I headed back to the room to sleep.

Turns out the gal from D25 took first place. Sarfaraz (from D50) came in second, and Yolanda Bynum, this sweet gal we met at the D56 conference, came in 3rd.

So, the next speech contest I'll sit through will be the World Championship of Public Speaking in Phoenix this August.

Ah, well ... this is what Audrey and I used to call the "full conference package bonus" - winding up sick afterwards.  I've suspected I was building up to another sinus infection for about a week now.  Whaddyagonnado?  They said it'll be 3-6 months before I see any difference from the allergy shots.

So, tomorrow, it's right back to Dr. Dansby to ask for an antibiotic.  And for now, it's back to bed to nap.  Poor Jim ... it's a beautiful day outside, and he suggested either pool time or a bike ride ... and I'm up to neither one.  :(  Maybe the rain will hold off for a bit and the trails will be in even better shape later this week ... when I will be, too.