Is there something on my face?

When I go for a jog, I wouldn't describe myself as someone who would stand out. I don't run in a sports bra, I don't have on spandex of any kind, I don't wear shoes that are neon orange...and yet, today, I had the distinct feeling that everyone was looking at me. Did I have something on my face? Had all the gnats I had run through stuck to my sweaty face? Then I remembered the t-shirt I was wearing.

It wasn't just any t-shirt; It was my favorite t-shirt of all time. My brother, Ben, bought it at a thrift store years ago and, realizing that his 6'2'' body really couldn't fit into an adult small t-shirt, he gave it to me. It has that soft, thin, you-hardly-know-it's-there feeling. What's so unusual about this shirt, however, isn't where it came from or the fact that it's lemon yellow; it's what it says on the front in big letters: REAL MEN DRIVE MOPARS.

Forced to learn what a mopar was after being asked every time I wore the shirt, I am proud to share that the word "mopar" actually stands for Motor Parts and is associated with Chrysler cars. I'm not sure how I lived most of my life with that word outside of my vocabulary. While I have no interest in either Chrysler or motor parts or men who drive them, the phrase is entirely unique, which is part of why I love the shirt so much. Not only am I not a man; I'm not a "real man"--a phrase that seemed to baffle Birmingham runners today.

April Fool's Day past and present

I wrote detention slips for my entire 3rd period today, citing them for such appalling behaviors as "inappropriate language," "disruptive behavior in class," "excessive talking," and "skipping class." The best part was having them say, "Thanks for the d-hall slip, Mrs. Johnson!" The act was so convincing that I even had a call this afternoon from a hoodwinked mom, and had to tell her how wonderful her son was and to have a happy April Fool's Day.

My family doesn't typically prank each other, but growing up, we always knew to expect something on April Fool's Day. My mom consistently put a square of wax paper in our turkey sandwiches (and we consistently forgot about it until we took the first bite), and my brother once dyed the milk green. I'm sure we had our fair share of saran wrapped toilet seats too. But it's been a while since I fooled anyone on April Fool's Day, and I realized that life's a lot more fun when you mess with people once in a while.

Good Grief

If people judge a book by its cover, then this one may go unread by many...which would be their loss because it's one of the best books I've read in a long time. And if I ever decide to write a book, Lolly Winston's style is what I would want mine to imulate: witty, clever, deep, unique, and down to earth. While the girly beach-book cover made me initially skeptical, I quickly discovered why it was a national best seller.

Good Grief was the kind of book that I'd take with me in the car and read at red lights; I literally couldn't put it down. It wasn't just the story that compelled me to continue reading, but also the uniqueness of the characters and the creative, honest, and humorous ways that the author crafted the book.

The story is about Sophie Stanton, a young widow who loses her husband to cancer, and her process of grief. The book is divided into the five stages of grief (denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and acceptance), and gave me insight into the difficult process that grieving a loved one must be. I always love reading about how authors come up with their story ideas, and in the back of the book is an interview with the author that I found as interesting as the book itself.

So, if you're looking for book that reads easily but whose themes will resonate with you for weeks, pick up Good Grief, the book whose title doubles as its theme.

My brain on drugs

For the first time since my sophomore year in high school, and despite my incessant hand washing, I caught the flu. I've spent the last two days getting to know my couch very well, and yesterday, I slept 19 of 24 hours, and then managed to sleep another 9 hours last night. Needless to say, I should feel well-rested and alert at this point, but my brain feels more like a thousand ribbons, swaying in slow motion, leaving me dazed and, well, slow. Phil had a good time yesterday trying to talk to me and listening to me attempting to put words together. I think I tried to say the word "pillow" three times before actually being able to form the word. Today, I am able to speak in logical sentences, although moving around or thinking takes considerable effort, like trying to walk quickly through waist-deep water. It's times like this that I realize how often I take my health for granted, and times like this that I'm thankful for drugs like Tylenol and Phenergyn to make me feel better. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the one above is what I imagine my brain to be right now: kind of crazy and psychedelic, but not how I want it to be forever...or even tomorrow. I'm on the mend, and hopefully the half-life that my brain is experiencing will reverse itself quickly because I'm ready to get off the couch and join the world again!