1) I feel like crud (because I have "The Crud") and I'm in the bed reading my favorite Godblogs; not necessarily people who write about only "spiritual" things, but who live out the presence of Christ beautifully through their words, regardless of how many times they mention the name of Jesus. I saw this Madeline L'Engle quote at Dirty Shame and thought it described what I mean:
"Not long ago a college senior asked if she could talk to me about
being a Christian writer. If she wanted to write Christian fiction, how
was she to go about it?
I told her that if she is truly and deeply a Christian, what she writes is going to be Christian, whether she mentions Jesus
or not. And if she is not, in the most profound sense, Christian, then
what she writes is not going to be Christian, no matter how many times
she invokes the name of the Lord." (Walking On Water: Reflections on Faith & Art, pp. 121-122)
2) Whenever I'm sick, I crave Coca-Cola. Not Diet Coke, no flavored derivatives, Coca.Cola….and don't even think about sneaking in a Pepsi in its place–my head-throbbing, feverish, phlegmmy self knows an impostor.
This sick-bed tradition is tied to my youth. Perhaps it is simply a matter of not having so many choices back in the day…or, maybe, a soft drink was a real treat…whatever the case, I have fond memories of my mother or grandmother filling a glass with crushed ice–absolutely no plastic and never cubed!–and bringing it to my bedside or sofa, depending on where I was convalescing. A flex straw was an added bonus, and although I'd drink it for a while that way, I usually ended up taking it out because homemade crushed ice was a treat, too. I suppose my children have no appreciation for this because they can get instant crushed ice by pressing a button on the fridge…back then, you had to work for it.
No matter how bad I felt, this always made me feel better…I think it had less to do with the drink…and much more so the TLC and sympathy that accompanied it.
wanted needed a Coke and was ever-so-thankful we actually had some on hand. My response is very Pavlovian…I felt "better" (even though I didn't really feel better). Somehow, just continuing this tradition ties me to my past (to my mother, grandmother) in a good way, and I suppose it lives on in a very real sense…
3) I'm VERY thankful my children are old enough to entertain themselves; my husband is out of town for the afternoon, so it helps they know their way around the kitchen. I trust them not play with matches or juggle knives. When I walked downstairs to check on them, they had played a few games of Monopoly and baked an impressive batch of homemade oatmeal cookies…AND cleaned up the kitchen. I had to smile–I'm rarely sick (thank God!), so when they see me, let's just say, looking like I was auditioning for "The Night of the Living Dead", they wanna make my life reeeal easy.
Gosh, I remember not too terribly long ago when they were much younger and I had the misfortune of getting sick–those were days…months…YEARS of survival at times! Whew…!
4) Have you googled your first name followed by the word "needs" to see what you "need"? Steve, Min and I are still having our little blogchat in Thriceville (we'll hit 400 comments soon!) and apparently they discovered a few things I need:
"Robin needs help going downhill."
"A normal-sized adult robin needs about 40 calories a day…"
"Robin needs a spanking." (no comment)
"Robin needs a hug…"
I thought they were joking (in spite of the fact I'm pretty sure I've done this before), but all their findings are there. I found a few extras, too–
"Robin does not self-preserve….and needs complete assistance from others…"
"Robin needs a half-decent rogues gallery."
If you do this, why not tell me what YOU need in comments…better yet, pop over to the "Nice Thrice" post and leave your comment there (and while you're there, take time to read a bit…they're still so daggum funny to me, it's not even funny!)
I'm sick…I don't feel well…give me a break!
At least I don't have parvo, mono, or anything else that ends in "o" (poor Jenny!)