"Some kind of screaming..."

Several months ago we lost a piece of fascia from the side of our house, near the corner where our bedroom window is. Then another. Then another started to bend.

Then the soffit started sagging. A bird built a nest in the gap. It laid eggs. The eggs hatched. The baby birds cheeeeeeped incessantly.

I called a roofer, who came and looked at the roof and told me I just needed a gutter repairman.

So I called a gutter repairman. He came out, gave an estimate, and actually did the repair the next day. I didn't ask what he planned to do about the birds. They're annoying, but I didn't want them to die. I was worried that if the dude messed with the nest, the momma bird wouldn't come back to it and the birdies would starve.

Trace told me to assume they were fine, which I did. I relaxed knowing our roofing wasn't going to blow away.

Until this morning.

I woke up to a familiar scratching sound. Then cheeping. Like the screaming of the freaking lambs, Clarice.

What's going on? Are they trapped in the roof?? I hope to God they just have other access somehow (not that I'm crazy about birds living in the roof) because if they were imprisoned alive in there, I don't know how well I'd handle that. I have this thing about things being buried alive. Poor birdies.

My brain is broken. Pretty sure.

Ever since Mom passed away, I've had an exceptionally hard time holding my shit together keeping my emotions in check around this time of year.

At first I thought it was just one of the cyclical "troughs" people in the grief counseling business talk about.

Then I thought maybe I was just losing my mind.

Then I thought maybe it was Easter. I have good memories of Easter as a kid, but nothing Mom-specific to make me almost have run sobbing out of a yoga class. Yeah, that happened.

Then, last year, someone made a connection for me: the ND musical. It's always around this time of year. Mom and I both were always a part of it, so of course I'd associate it with her.

This seemed plausible, even though I hadn't really been aware in the front of my mind, at least, that the show was coming up.

Well, this year, the instability waited until after Easter to show its ugly face. It's here, and the musical starts tomorrow.

So, that's where we're at today.

Out of it

I'm almost — almost — over being sick.

About three-ish weeks ago (maybe longer, not sure) I had a slightly sore throat and a touch of laryngitis.

Then I got a bit of a cough. Trace had recently been sick and recommended I start with the Mucinex right away, before it got worse. So I did that, and drank several gallons of orange juice, and thought I was on the mend.

The next Monday, I felt BAD. Went to practice but couldn't do much. Friends said I even looked bad.

By the end of that week, I was feeling a bit better, though I was blowing my nose constantly and still on the Mucinex and Sudafed no thanks to city laws. Bouted that Saturday, did OK. Better than I expected.

By Monday, I was feeling even worse than I had the week before. I wasn't sleeping well or much, and the cough had gotten much, much worse. I was literally in tears because I had felt so bad for so long. Trace suggested I go to the doctor, but I was skeptical they'd be able to do anything for what I thought was a cold.

By Wednesday, I'd had enough. I didn't go to work. First time in almost seven years that I can remember calling in to this job because of actual illness. As it turns out, it's a good thing I went: I apparently had bronchitis, pharyngitis, and sinusitis. All the itises.

They put me on a 5-day Z-pack (thought they only came in 10 days, but whatever), and after about three days of that, I FINALLY felt like the end was in sight.

I'm still taking NyQuil, but that's just to help me sleep and not wake up coughing so much. At least it's a dry cough now.

In other news, Trace is in Minneapolis this week. Last night was his first night gone, and as usual I couldn't sleep. I was up till 5 watching Jenna Marbles videos on YouTube and after watching her makeup tutorial have become convinced it's a good idea to get some false eyelashes. I can't decide if this is the product of little sleep or a product of the fact that when Trace is gone, I shop.

Also, NyQuil at 4 a.m. when you are alone for the night may be a bad plan. I woke up around 10:40 and thought I could sleep a bit longer, then woke up again just before 1:30 p.m. The reason there might have been a problem is that I had actually just rolled over to go BACK to sleep when the little voice told me to check the clock. Had I not listened, I definitely would have been late for work.

When he's right he's right

I had derby practice last night. It was the first time in probably a few months that we've been put in somewhat of a scrimmage situation. We've gotten a little bit sloppy thanks to sock derby but it was fun to be at it again.

That said...


I have some wicked bruises on my shin. I took a couple of really awesome falls and have a nice bruise/raspberry on my shoulder where I slid across the floor. I have a cut on my thumb and have no idea how it got there. I think it might have been from someone's pads. I got my own elbow shoved into my stomach. Not pleasant. I got punched in the mouth by a teammate. No bruising there, thank goodness. But I'm sore all over today. And I broke a toe. At least, it's got the look and feel of a broken toe.

I discovered the issue when putting on my skates following sock derby. Don't know if I got stepped on or what. But I figured the show must go on, so I taped it to the piggy next to it and kept skating. There was an hour of practice left and I didn't really want to sit out. We've got a full scrimmage practice next week.

When I got home I called Trace and was telling him about my injuries. He said, "You know, two years ago, if someone would tell you that you would go through all that pain and love it, you would have laughed in their face. I told you derby would make you tougher."

I guess he was right. I pretty much consider myself a wimp, but that's starting to fade. Thank goodness. Because wimps get their asses kicked in derby and don't last long. :-)

Never say never

I guess I can no longer say I never win anything.

This is my first-ever medal. In anything. No, really.

I placed third in my age division at the Mardi Gras 5K this year. I'm pretty stoked. I know Mom would be proud, even if she would think we all make too big a fuss over her.

This year, it was sooooo much nicer to participate. The last two years have been sort of miserable. In 2010 it was freezing. In 2011 it was freezing AND rainy. Today it was about 50 and dry. The rain picked up as we were leaving after the awards.

The photo above is me all sweaty in the ladies' room of the gym of my old old high school right after finishing the race. They've redecorated it somewhat with MARBLE (or faux marble, anyway). I wish 51 was a number on the roulette wheel. I'd start playing it.

And speaking of my old old high school (I call it that because we moved to a new building when I was a senior)....

This is where we all gathered after the race. Wow, this gym brings back bad memories. But some of the best memories I have from high school are from that stage at the end, where we put on the musical ever year. Good times.