Lyrical Laughs

Sunday, September 27, 2015

What really bugs me about having the stomach bug

Last weekend Spouse and I spent the majority of the time sharing something we really dislike sharing: a stomach bug.

It started in the wee hours of Thursday morning when I woke to my mate racing down the (thank goodness) short hall to our bathroom and returning than 30 minutes completely drained, literally. I prayed it was just some bad Pad Thai he ate the night before and that he would feel better when it was closer to dawn.

No such luck. While I headed into work, Spouse spent the whole day sleeping, sweating and umm… err… well, draining. By the next morning he felt good enough to shower but that was about as much as he could motivate himself to do. As he crawled back into bed I moved along and got ready for my Friday, hoping that constantly cleaning the bathroom, changing the towels and moving my toothbrush far away from his would help me avoid whatever this was.

Apparently not.

Sometime on Friday afternoon I started feeling wonky. You know how, when you’re just on the verge of getting ill, your head doesn’t quite match with your movements? That’s wonky. I left work a couple of hours early and started to regret it when I got home because within a half hour I was feeling pretty normal (for me).

And then the night came, and with it what I can only call Montezuma’s Revenge. Though my most severe bout with it lasted just over half as long as Spouse’s did, I felt weak until sometime Sunday evening.

The killer about being ill in September in Maine is that it is September in Maine. This is absolutely my favorite time of year. The air turns a little more crisp and clean, you get to have blankets on at night, fall festivals are in full swing, and it’s the perfect time to enjoy being outside during the day.

Except you can’t go outside with Montezuma’s Revenge. You can stand longingly just inside the door and breathe in the magnificent fall scents, and you might even venture outside to collect the mail or the newspaper. But that’s as far as you’re going, buddy, unless you have a port-o-potty in your yard. That is how much warning this bugger – I mean bug – gives you before you need the facilities.

My point is, the Best Season Ever in Maine is also the shortest, and being stuck inside was torture.
Being taken down by this dang virus meant that we missed a few things last weekend. There was a great local beach event that required athleticism and prowess (we were going to watch) and a special potluck breakfast as part of a celebration at our church (we were going to eat). I was going to get my hair cut by some fabulous stylist I have yet to find, and a substantial part of the weekend was planned for trying at least half of the 15 zucchini recipes required to use up our harvest.

Instead we barely ate (fine, that didn’t exactly hurt us), watched endless NCIS reruns (it was a McGee marathon) and dealt with headaches from lack of caffeine (two days of not being able stand the scent of coffee).

Thankfully, by Monday morning we were both feeling good enough to go to work.

Wait - did I say I was thankful to go to work? Well, at least it meant I got to leave the house.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Traveling vicariously was all right with me

I should start here by telling you that I am not an adventurer in any way, shape or form. I like the simple, local, non-daring type of outing. So how Spouse and I came to make flight reservations to go not only to Budapest to visit Second Born in less than ten weeks, but continue on to India for First Born’s second wedding ceremony with The Groom, is beyond me. I mean, really, beyond me.

It’s not because I’m afraid of flying. It isn’t the idea of being in another continent where I am completely unfamiliar with the language and culture.  And it is not because this is (and probably always will be) the most expensive vacation we have ever considered.

It is All Of It.

For the past few years I’ve told people I’m living vicariously through my children. First Born has been to Las Vegas a couple of times and she got engaged while in Bora Bora. Yes, I had to look Bora Bora up to see exactly where she would be. Then the Love Couple went on a whirlwind tour of Paris and Rome for their honeymoon.

In December they will head to India for an authentic wedding ceremony in the country where The Groom was born and lived until he was around middle school age. 

Now, stop me if I’ve mentioned that Second Born is in Budapest for her study abroad semester. You didn’t really try and stop me, did you? That would be hilarious.

My point is that it’s all been just hunky-dory to let the kids have their adventures while I stay right here on my sofa waiting for their return or calls or Skype sessions describing these wonderfully exciting excursions.

Oh, but no. We discovered at The Love Couple’s wedding in May that some of our family members have been planning to also attend the India ceremony. That was all Spouse needed to hear. Not to be left out of another family affair, he decided that going to the India ceremony would be fun. Exciting. Interesting even.  Then I foolishly mentioned that IF we were to make such an elaborate trip, we couldn’t very well go all the way to India and not see Budapest, especially since Second Born would not be able to be at the ceremony.

So our flights are booked – Boston to Budapest to India and back to Boston within a two-week period. I’m jet-lagged just writing that.

I also have an unnatural fear of getting stuck inside the airplane restroom just as we hit turbulence. At some time in my life I must have watched a movie with such a scene – that’s the only explanation I have for this paranoia. Just in case, though, who knows if I can get a diagram of each plane we will be taking so I know how to get out of the bathroom?

I have to believe that having one or more irrational fear is normal when one is doing something this far out of their comfort zone. This is so beyond my comfort zone that it has its own zip code. But I also have faith that I will learn to stop holding my breath every time the subject of flying for more than seven hours at a stretch comes up. I believe that we will have perfect tour guides, first in Budapest with Second Born and then in India with First Born’s in-laws. There really is not a down side to making this trek, even though I could concoct dozens of them given the chance.

With the help of breathing exercises, healthy habits for the next few months and maybe just a tiny bit of chocolate thrown in for balance, this will be an extraordinarily memorable trip of a lifetime.

And it may even be the first time anyone has ever wanted to live vicariously through me.
(a sign in Budapest - comforting!)