I am alive. . . sort of

Long time no see!

So, still sick (story of my life). I haven't written for a while because I have been sick, forgot, and didn't feel like it. Today, however, I will tell you all about my past adventures.

A week ago, my parents and I went to stay with my brother, Mark, and his wife, Christie, over the Pres. Holiday Weekend. I was pretty excited despite the fact that I still couldn't breathe normally. When we got to their apartment, we went out to dinner and all was fine until I began eating. I started having hot flashes. So I went outside for the rest of the hour, sat in the cold wind, and listened to a homeless woman (to whom I later gave $10 ) talk about the crazy *$%@! living in apartment 47B. The whole incident made me smile.

Next, my schedule for the whole weekend was very strange. I would go to sleep next to the couch my parents were sleeping on and then wake up when my dad threw a couch pillow in my face (yeah it only happened once, but it kinda hurt I might add), then when my parents and brother and sister-in-law left, I would crawl on the bed and sleep for a few more hours, and then wake up around 2 P.M. I loved it.

While my dearest family was off on amazing adventures, I was having adeventures of my own. You see, the man who lives above my brother has a unique major: Opera. Now, I was blessed to be able to listen to him practice on a daily basis. I must admit, the first time I heard his voice, I was sleeping, and in my dream, my friend was talking to me and then a strange gurgling sound escaped his mouth. It was interesting, and I soon woke up to find that I was simply hearing the upstairs neighbor. Later my sister suggested, believing that I have a fairly decent singing voice, that I should have started to sing too, and we could have done a few awesome duets together. I'm glad I didn't.

For all those teenagers out there, have your parents ever said anything totally weird? Or used a word in the wrong way? Yeah, me too. You see, my parents have a history of doing such things which can sometimes make me cringe. The last one was the word "word" (used in the way only gangsters can use it. My brother, a few years ago kept saying word at the end of every sentence which worked. . . in a white-boy-trying-to-be-black sort of way. Then my dad tried it.

Dad: These tacos are great, word
Us Kids:
Dad: What?

He didn't seem to understand exactly with what we were astonished.

Over this weekend, my mom figured out what TMI stands for (for those who don't know. . . Too Much Info). The thing is, my mom thought you are supposed to use this phrase when you are about to give too much information, not when you hear it.

Mom: TMI, I have to go to the bathroom.
Me: Thanks for the warning.

I need to teach my parents better.

On another note, all five of us would play games at night before going to bed which was super fun. However, I realized that before playing games, the table would look something like this. :)




Isn't this great for family time? With everyone on their laptops. We are all awesome, at least I think so.

Next, on the blog agenda, I'm going to use something from the fabulous Sydney (Go check out her blog, she is super cute!! http://tandsdaybook.blogspot.com/ ) Awkward and Awesome notes. She does these awesome lists on Thursdays, but I will do them as soon as I have enough to post a list. Here we go for the past week or so.

Awkward:
-Getting hammered in the face with a couch pillow
-Sitting on a warm toilet seat
-Waving at someone you know and it turns out they just look like your friend
-Blowing your nose and finding out you missed the tissue completely
-Discussing someone you like and the person in question walks into the room
-Being sick for your whole vacation
-Seeing someone pick their butt then they make eye contact with you
-Hearing the man in the apartment above your practice his Opera

Awesome:
-Having your brother tell you that you are fun to be around and that you have an awesome personality
-Giving money to a homeless woman (even though she might have spent it on drugs)
-Taking your friends out to lunch and laughing at them when they flirt with the cashier, and the amazing memories we make
-Feeling alive after three weeks of being sick
-Writing more of the book you are working on
-Watching two movies with your mother before going to bed
-Having an amazing family to belong to.

I think that is it for me. Have a great Sunday!!

Bex

Doctors seem unconcered about embarassed teenager's feelings

Hello from the depths of my bed covers


I have been sick for the past two weeks and finally my mother decided to take me to the doctors to get a prescription so I wouldn't die. We walked in there and I was asked to fill out information and give up my horrible ID picture (seriously, the picture on my driver's license was taken on Hippie Day at school. . . yeah, it's not pretty). I waited for a good 45 minutes before I was called into the office.

My mom sat down in one of the hard uncomfortable chairs and I sat on the bed with that scratchy white paper which is supposed to keep things sanitary (haha. . . yeah right). I waited for ten more minutes before a nurse came in to check my blood pressure and temperature. She left telling me the doctor would be in a moment.

When he came in the conversation went like this.

Doc: Hello Bex What seems to be the problem today?
Me: I am having the worst pains in my throat, back and neck and I don't want to die.
Doc: (holding up that nifty device with a light one uses to look into another's ears.) Can I have a look?

Me: (I was thinking, uh. . . yeah, as soon as I walked through this door, I gave you permission. I want to get better. Nope! You can't look, I want you to make me better without any further examination.) Uh. yeah.
Doctor: (after examining my ears, brought up his stethoscope, and listening to my breathing and everything else.) Where is your back pain.
Me: On my back
Doc: Can you be more specific.
Me: Everywhere.
Doc (feeling around the sides of my back.) Here
Me: GASP
Mom: What's wrong? Will she need kidney surgery??
Me: That tickles Doc!
Doc: Then I guess there is no problem there. I'm going to give you this medicine which will probably give you diarrhea.
Me:
Doctor: That's normal.
Me: . . . Good, because I would hate to have diarrhea if it was abnormal.
Doctor: Then that settles it. (After a few moments). You will need to come in two days this week to get shots.
Me: (Throwing a horrified glance at my mother.) . . . . Squeak!
Doctor: The shots will ensure the medicine will work to full strength.
Me: I hate sharp objects.
Doctor: Do you use pens and pencils for school?
Me: Rarely, that is why I prefer to type.
Mom: Regardless, Bex you are going to be back here soon to get those shots.
Me: Thanks for the sympathy Mom.

I now have the medicine which includes blue pills which are far too large and horrible to swallow, and a nasal spray which I hate because I can't blow my nose after using it.

Here they are.



Anyway, I'm going to go back into a moderate self-induced coma. Wake me up when I'm better. Have a great day!

Bex

Crimes Part II

Ok kinda-funny-on-the-bridge-of-scary story.

I went to a Church Youth Conference and it was a ton of fun. When we got there, that night was a dance which ended around 11:00 P.M. or so. Since we were out of town, we were assigned houses to stay the night at. The people who owned the homes were members of the church so it was going to be fine. After the dance, the leader who was our driver got the directions to the house we would be staying at. Several wrong turns later, we were finally on Elm Street looking frantically for 714. Unfortuanlly for us, this area seemed less civilized and therefore seemed to believe having the house number clearly visible was for babies. We drove up and down the street at least ten times before we decided the lamp post which had something inscribed on it which looked vaugualy like T1A (and we decided must be 714) we drove up to the house. There were no lights on in the house, but Mrs. Bearch (The leader) and I (as the oldest young woman and the youth leader) decided to check it out. This was what we saw (or pretty close to it).



So as you can imagine, we, or at least I was slightly scared. Mrs. Bearch and I went up to the house and knocked on the door. No one answered, but then I saw this. . .


Sorry, the picture is upside down. Anyway, there was a key on a nail right near the door. The following conversation occurred between Mrs. Bearch and me.

Me: I want to go home
Bearch: I think we should use the key
Me: I want my mom! And some hot chocolate, and a nice warm bed.
Bearch: Maybe they had to go somewhere and left the key for us to get inside?
Me: My mom always told me to not talk to strangers
Bearch: Come on Bex! Let's go, you want to sleep in a house tonight right?
Me: I just want. . . . not to sleep in this house.
Bearch: Don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen, besides, I know how to handle a gun.
Me:

(How was a nonexistent gun going to help me? But I was interested in hearing how Mrs. Bearch knew how to handle a gun. That was not something I would have guessed from her quiet caring nature.)

Mrs. Bearch then took the key and opened the door. The door creaked open as if it had not been used in a long time. When we walked in I searched for a light and I flicked the switch. There was a lot of dirt. . . everywhere. It seemed as if we had walked into a work place. A red workbench stuck out in one corner and a few dusty jars of fruit preserves stood on a grimy counter. My stomach did a nauseous turn-over.

Me: I don't want to sleep here.
Bearch: I'm NOT going to sleep here. I will stay in my car if this is the other option.

Both of us practically ran back to the car and we all headed back to the church where the dance was. We all used phones to call one of the Guy leaders who had a GPS to help us. We knew we had gotten to the right house, but if there was any chance it wasn't the right one, well, I wanted to sleep in a warm place not filled with grime.

While we waited, there was a group of teenagers who were at a house across from the church. They looked scary and I voted to pray or call the cops on them for loitering at their own house and frightening poor innocent out-of-towners.

A few minutes later, a police man came and drove up to the group. All I could think was, this kind of thing is not supposed to happen on a church trip. There was probably going to be a shoot out right then and there. The group apparently knew the policeman, and after a few friendly words, he left.

A few more minutes passed, and the group kept looking at us and then finally one member of the group spoke out.

Teen: Are you going to toilet-paper our house?

We were all slightly shocked, we would never do any such thing to a perfect stranger!! Now a friend was a different matter.

Bearch: Of course not, we are just waiting for someone. Sorry for bothering you.
Teen: Oh OK, thanks!!

Whatever, stupid teens (Oops, I am a teen). We waited for a few minutes and the leader came and with his hand-dandy GPS showed us the right way. I'm sure Mrs. Bearch and I both had heart attacks when he led us right up to the house we had recently vacated.

Then, he made a left turn and led us down a man-made mountain where at the end was another house with the same inscription of T1A but next to it was the letter G. Apparently the first house we had been in was the landlords house for a group of rental houses with the same number.

I nearly cried with happiness when we walked into the nice warm and pink house of Mrs. Greaber. We told her about our mishap and she laughed and laughed. Then she told us that it was just fine we had gone into the wrong house because the man who owned it was never there, and it was lucky he wasn't because he would have "blown you to smithereens."

I went to bed that night and tried to say an apologetic pray that night because I had, without a doubt, helped to break into a house.

The next morning after a wonderful breakfast, we drove back out of the little rental house area and as we passed the scary house, all of us turned to look as a big pile of muscle and beard entered the house. All I can say is that I am glad we didn't die.


So, all in all, in one weekend, I broke and entered a house, almost witnessed a shoot-out, and of course was spiritually edified. It was exhausting. Have a great week!!

Bex