another true story i made up

So, the name of the game is this: three truths and one lie.

Can you tell which is which?

  • I type ridiculously fast, much to the annoyance of colleagues, family and friends.
  • I have a sixth sense.
  • I was a Canadian pop star whose hits include a song about going to the mall.
  • I am a font elitist.

Have at, my friends.

This post was written as part of NHBPM – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J

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blog, interrupted

Hi. You guys remember me, right? I blog (apparently, sometimes).

Though I have been pretty busy—painting the kitchen, ramping up for our back-to-school edition, pleading with people to send us sports stuff since we are a tiny newspaper—the real reason I’ve been neglecting my poor blog (and reading the blogs of others) has not a lot to do with any of those.

It has to do with this:

I know, right? I, Nessie—a 27-year-old editor of a newspaper—got sucked into a video game with an intensity I have no experienced since playing Final Fantasy X on the PlayStation 2 back when I was a senior in high school (10 years ago). I felt super nostalgic (and craved white bread, yellow mustard and salami sandwiches washed down with Cokes—my high school video game meal of choice, which, of course, now with my dietary restrictions I could probably only eat the mustard.)

But, I’m back (I hope). And if you’ve commented, emailed or tweeted me, I’ll get back to you soon, I swear!

a victory—with pockets

I ordered myself a sewing machine (a Brother CS-6000i) as an early birthday present. It came in the mail a few weeks ago, and I love it. My first project—what else? A tablecloth for my (teensy) sewing table—was a bit of a disaster, with terrifically crooked seams. I did, however, learn some lessons that I applied to my next project: a skirt tutorial found on Pinterest.

It took me all last weekend. I ripped apart many a seam until they were all straight as arrows. Still, it’s not perfect, but I absolutely adore it. It even has pockets, people! (Pockets are crucial in my line of work.) And, better yet, it has an elastic waist but doesn’t look frumpy. Since my hands have been giving me trouble lately, a cute skirt with no buttons or zippers to fumble with is just what the doctor ordered.

Plus, I love that I have a hobby that I can do even when I’m not feeling great. With jewelry making, it my hands are sore and thick, it’s hard to manipulate tiny beads and thin wire. But, I can push a yard of fabric under the needle even with club hands. So, hooray!

already pretty: body gratitude in the face of illness

I know I owe you guys two more HAWMC posts, and I promise I’ll write them. But I’ve been sitting on this awesome post for awhile, and, since I’m feeling like doggie doo from my crazy work week last week (and today’s delightful 13-hour work day), I thought I’d let this one roll.

Sally over at Already Pretty tries to tackle a reader question on keeping a positive body image when you have a chronic illness. Though she says she doesn’t have an intrusive chronic illness (invisible illness, anyone?), she hits the nail on the head with many of her suggestions. Why yes, Sally, I do in fact pamper myself with lovely clothes, fun makeup and shiny hair (what’s left of it from stress and MTX, anyway!).

But one of the commenters made a good point that sometimes, I need to give myself permission to not love my body. On a day like yesterday—when I slept until 3 p.m. and still felt exhausted, when a quick trip to the store left me sore and achy—I didn’t like my body very much. I didn’t want to think about all the things I could still do but instead wanted to remember the things I’d lost.

Today, I’m over that, but I think it’s important to allow myself those days—as long as I don’t wallow.

But head on over there; read through the comments, too. I’ll warn you, there are a couple of insidious ones, but they’ve mostly been dealt with already.

#HAWMC day 17: be here now

Today was a really awesome day. The Professor and I spent our afternoon on a local farm tour, enjoying the sights and sounds of our area away from the hustle and bustle of our daily lives.

My favourite farm—other than the winery, which was just fun—was our first. The sun shone brightly and warmed our bodies. The sky was perfectly blue, not a cloud in sight. I felt a cool breeze and vegetation brushing my legs and feet, crunching underfoot as I walked. The sound of turkeys gobbling whenever they heard a loud noise, hogs snarfling over food, chickens clucking and kids running around, delighted at the day and the sights and the sounds. I’d describe the smells, but I’m still pretty congested.

Today was awesome even though I couldn’t be mindful about it—I was taking pictures for work, so I spent my time framing shots, getting IDs and striking up conversations. But those around me didn’t have those same concerns, and I could see the impact the day had on them. And looking back over my pictures, I can remember vividly just how everything felt and sounded and looked. It was a great day and a lesson in enjoying myself regardless of what I’m doing. Today could have been miserable; it was Sunday, and I had to work. But the Professor came along, and it was a beautiful day. And when I think back on it now, a smile makes its way across my face and my whole body just relaxes.

It was a great day.

#HAWMC day 15: never worn

Today’s Health Activists Writing Month Challenge reminds me of the story Ernest Hemingway called his finest (“For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”).

Here’s my two sentence narrative:

Lily stared out the window, uncertain as to whether she really wanted to proceed; she sighed. “Let’s do this,” she said, and pushed the plunger in.

I’m no Hemingway, but that’ll have to do!

(Hooray! Half-way point!)

an addition

30 for 30 5 days, 6 outfits

Image by karenthings via Flickr

Some of you may have noticed the new tab at the top of my header. (If not, no worries.) I’ve decided to embark on Kendi’s 30 for 30 challenge: 30 items of clothing (including shoes, excluding all other accessories) and no shopping. I’m on day two, and so far, I’m hanging in there. I’ve been sick with some kind of cold/flu/sore throat demon the last couple of days, and it was actually kind of nice to just have a few pieces from which to pick. It’s certainly made getting dressed so much easier.

But, I just thought I’d give those of you interested in what I wear every day a head’s up.

In other news, this sore throat has lead me to try to talk as little as possible; in fact, I’ve taken to whispering whenever I do have to talk, since it doesn’t seem to aggravate my throat as much. And it’s kind of funny, but a throat that feels raw—as though someone rubbed it with rough sandpaper—makes me consider all my words, think about whether I really want to say what I’m about to say. It’s something I have a tendency to not do, usually; I tend to speak without thinking, a very bad habit.

Who knows; maybe this sore throat is a good thing, eh? The beginning of a new era. But, honestly? I would settle for thinking before I speak just some of the time.

nerd i am

I am

Image via Wikipedia

When we first learned the Professor would be teaching at his alma mater for at least an academic year, we were ecstatic. When we learned he would have a writing intensive section, I offered to go over his students’ papers for grammar and style. For their last papers, I got that chance.

Today, I got through all but three of the papers during my down time at work. Reading the work of these university students—most of them upperclassmen—reminded me of two things: how much I love copy editing and how little most of these kids know about the English language. (For the love of God, possessives and plurals are two different things!) Even though most of them were absolutely terrible, I still do love words.

But, with writing articles, editing pages and reading papers, I’m all worded out.

as big as saucers

So, in my continuing effort to take good better care of myself (see: adding a PCP to my army of doctors), I had an appointment with a new ophthalmologist today. I had my prescription checked (my left eye is now worse than my right) and she checked to make sure the Plaquenil hadn’t caused any damage (it hadn’t).

But, she decided to dilate my pupils several hours ago, and they are still ginormous. That, truth be told, makes writing really difficult.

So, instead, I leave you with a video of a flash mob performance of “Safety Dance.” You’re welcome.

a little joy

The cast of The Big Bang Theory on a panel at ...

Image via Wikipedia

Red velvet cake.

Snuggling with the pup.

Kitten massages.

Hugs from the Professor.

The Big Bang Theory.

Fresh, raw corn.

Listening to Christmas music while wrapping presents.

The smell of a real Christmas tree.

Good music.

The Story with Dick Gordon.

These are a few of my favourite things. What are some of yours?