For those of you coming....
I'll have tortilla chips, salsa, queso (Velveeta mixed with salsa and hamburger meat), cokes (Coke, Pepsi, Sprite, Mountain Dew), and popcorn (if we watch movies or if someone wants it). If none of that sounds appetizing, then you can bring a tasty snack to share or whatever works for you. Just know that your stomach will be filled.
My dogs will be there, but don't worry if you're not comfortable around dogs because Mungo and Lucy will be upstairs for the night.
I hope to see everyone there!
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Oh what a World
We all have our moments. Sometimes they can be overwhelmingly stupid. I had one of those this past weekend.
My older sister, Retta, had a surprise birthday planned by her boyfriend, Thomas, and her good friend. I surprised her as well, and it made for a great weekend. Until the overwhelmingly stupid moment. This was the first time that I was able to drink as much as I want without puking at some point. Apparently, as much as I wanted meant the ability to pass in and out of consciousness. That kind of drinking never ends well. It definitely didn't for me and two other people. I wish I could change what happened, but I can't.
I have to learn from this experience and maybe that will be all the difference.
My older sister, Retta, had a surprise birthday planned by her boyfriend, Thomas, and her good friend. I surprised her as well, and it made for a great weekend. Until the overwhelmingly stupid moment. This was the first time that I was able to drink as much as I want without puking at some point. Apparently, as much as I wanted meant the ability to pass in and out of consciousness. That kind of drinking never ends well. It definitely didn't for me and two other people. I wish I could change what happened, but I can't.
I have to learn from this experience and maybe that will be all the difference.
Friday, September 7, 2007
twisted my ankle and sprained it
I thought I was going to have a lot of fun in my Intramural Volleyball team. I went to our first practice last night at 7:30 and sprained my damn ankle not 30 minutes into practice.
The problem was that I didn't realize I hurt my ankle. I hurt this same (right) ankle my sophomore year playing tennis with my step-mom. It's been crummy ever since: it will randomly roll our from under me and cause me to crash. Usually I walk it off and I'm fine. That was my plan Thursday night. I told my team to keep practicing and let me sit for a while. I'd be fine.
I got up to play and it still hurt (like it normally does), but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I was used to that kind of pain. I wasn't going to go running after a ball though. I left practice about ten minutes before 9:00 went home to eat and then go to bed.
Throughout the night my dog, Mungo, regularly goes on and off the bed while I'm sleeping. I'm so used to him doing this that sometimes I'll wake up in the morning and he's stretched out alongside me and I don't remember him moving there at all. Late Wednesday night he was doing this, as usual, but he plopped his big doggy ass right on my ankle. I yelled. It freaked out Mungo. It hurt very badly though, worse than it normally does when I hurt my ankle. In fact, if this had been a typical ankle problem, it shouldn't be hurting anymore.
Then, closer to morning, I'm rolling over and smack my injured appendage into the wall. It wasn't a simple tap either. It was a hard smack right on the top of my swollen ankle. Again, screaming. I got up as soon as it stopped hurting, but I could barely put any weight on my foot. Since I do not have a primary care physician in Clarksville, I had to drive to the ER (it was not fun) and pay the damn $75.00 copay.
If any part of this can be funny or fate's way of coincidences, then this next part could be ironic, I'm not sure. As I arrive in the ER at 7 AM there is an elderly man being escorted into triage for a sprained LEFT ankle.
We have an elderly man with his ankle, then when the nurse sees me and my form she gives me this quizzical look and checks out my ankles. I think she actually doubted my injury until she saw my obscenely swollen joint (I'm copyrighting that for an, as yet, unwritten Romance novel euphemism). Then she sighs (not in any mean way) and asks me to hobble back towards triage. (You're not supposed to walk on sprains, right????) Apparently there were two other ankle sprains (besides the old man and me AND someone had hurt their hip. It was a busy night for the orthopedic Dr.)
Anyway, so I made my sprain worse/more aggravated by still playing Thursday night. I should have stopped playing then and there and put ice on it and kept it elevated. I didn't, so now I'm paying for it by missing my first game with my team (GO GREEN TIGERS) and another practice.
The problem was that I didn't realize I hurt my ankle. I hurt this same (right) ankle my sophomore year playing tennis with my step-mom. It's been crummy ever since: it will randomly roll our from under me and cause me to crash. Usually I walk it off and I'm fine. That was my plan Thursday night. I told my team to keep practicing and let me sit for a while. I'd be fine.
I got up to play and it still hurt (like it normally does), but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I was used to that kind of pain. I wasn't going to go running after a ball though. I left practice about ten minutes before 9:00 went home to eat and then go to bed.
Throughout the night my dog, Mungo, regularly goes on and off the bed while I'm sleeping. I'm so used to him doing this that sometimes I'll wake up in the morning and he's stretched out alongside me and I don't remember him moving there at all. Late Wednesday night he was doing this, as usual, but he plopped his big doggy ass right on my ankle. I yelled. It freaked out Mungo. It hurt very badly though, worse than it normally does when I hurt my ankle. In fact, if this had been a typical ankle problem, it shouldn't be hurting anymore.
Then, closer to morning, I'm rolling over and smack my injured appendage into the wall. It wasn't a simple tap either. It was a hard smack right on the top of my swollen ankle. Again, screaming. I got up as soon as it stopped hurting, but I could barely put any weight on my foot. Since I do not have a primary care physician in Clarksville, I had to drive to the ER (it was not fun) and pay the damn $75.00 copay.
If any part of this can be funny or fate's way of coincidences, then this next part could be ironic, I'm not sure. As I arrive in the ER at 7 AM there is an elderly man being escorted into triage for a sprained LEFT ankle.
SIDE NOTE: If one ever has to go to the ER try to aim for the early morning hours. By all means go at 2 AM if you have a life threatening problem or injury, but if you can wait, hold off until 5-7 AM. I was in and out of the ER in less than an hour. I'm talking after initial triage and room assignment, Dr. consultation, X-rays, and payment. Under an hour. When I went at 8 PM back in July when the Drs. thought I had meningitis, I didn't get home until 11. So, early morning is the way to go for a speedy ER visit.
We have an elderly man with his ankle, then when the nurse sees me and my form she gives me this quizzical look and checks out my ankles. I think she actually doubted my injury until she saw my obscenely swollen joint (I'm copyrighting that for an, as yet, unwritten Romance novel euphemism). Then she sighs (not in any mean way) and asks me to hobble back towards triage. (You're not supposed to walk on sprains, right????) Apparently there were two other ankle sprains (besides the old man and me AND someone had hurt their hip. It was a busy night for the orthopedic Dr.)
Anyway, so I made my sprain worse/more aggravated by still playing Thursday night. I should have stopped playing then and there and put ice on it and kept it elevated. I didn't, so now I'm paying for it by missing my first game with my team (GO GREEN TIGERS) and another practice.
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