Sunday, November 23, 2008


So, kittens, hope you're well. As always, it's been way too long since I've blogged. Oh, I've been crazed, what with being whisked away to Quebec City last weekend by our favorite Manadian, MP, who, after a string of mishaps and misery, finally managed to propose to me. And now your socially awkward, perpetually single, on-her-way-to-spinsterdom Nerddd is actually engaged, which is hard to believe, I know but goodness, it's true. What is even more difficult to believe is the fact that I'm engaged to the Madlibbin' Parasailer but that, too, is very, very true and I thank the Blogger gods for making our match possible. 

It's surreal. 

I spent last week reading through my earliest correspondences with MP and if anyone would have told me then that this guy was my future husband, I would have choked on my saliva and, upon being able to breathe once again, would have said, "Nuh uh." 

Two years and two days after the very first time MP left a comment on my blog--my response to which was, interestingly, a prophetic, "Anonymous, do I know you?" (MP went by Anonymous in those early days)--here I am, engaged to the guy. 

Life's funny kittens; it's strange and absurd, full of twists and turns that never quite seem to make sense, until that one day when all of the scattered pieces fall into place and suddenly you can see that life is beautiful, that underneath the strangeness and absurdity there is this thing called kismet or naseeb or destiny. 

Call it what you will.  It is beautiful. 

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

MY COLD: A Long and Necessary Whine

Apologies for the lack of updating here, readers. For once, I have a valid excuse: I've been ill, terribly, terribly ill.

It all started back on Thursday, October 23rd, when I was suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. I usually have boundless reserves of energy, so I found my listlessness a bit odd. Chalking it all up to over-working, over-exercising, and over-hiking I decided to take the day off from boxing. The following day, however, found me just as exhausted. What was going on?! I refused to miss another day of boxing because of a little fatigue but, unfortunately, my body had other ideas. So, instead of the gym, I went out with MP, who, upon holding my hand, commented that I was burning up.

I woke up with a devastatingly sore throat on Saturday morning, which eventually subsided over the course of the day. I even managed a seven mile run.

I paid for the seven mile run the following morning, when I woke up with not only a sore throat but nasal congestion like you wouldn't believe. It felt very much like someone had stuffed water-soaked cotton balls up my nose, an odd and wholly unpleasant sensation, indeed. I stayed in bed all day.

I felt even worse on Monday morning and, yet, I somehow made it into work. I even managed to be productive. I was taking measured swigs of Robitussin by this point, in the hopes of kicking this horrible, horrible cold. Not feeling terrible on Tuesday morning, I came into work hopeful that I might be on the mend. I was proven wrong, however, when my condition quickly deteriorated over the course of the morning until I, nearly coughing up a lung and blowing deluge after deluge of sickness from my nose into wads of tissue, called the day a defeat and limped back home. I stayed at home the following day, still ill, still chugging Robitussin, to no marked improvement.


Thursday saw my return to the office, as my waterlogged nasal passages dried up for the most part. The cough, however, was something to be contented with; booming and wet, it made my body hurt as much as it made people stare. The Robitussin was utterly useless and my hacking became my own personal theme music. The prospect of boxing anytime soon felt impossible. And so I coughed through Thursday. On Halloween Friday, the cough proved to be an appropriate accessory for my Renegade Nun. Dressed as a nun, I also carried a machine gun, was draped in bullets, had a holy water bottle strapped to my waist and a cigarette dangled from my lips. It was only fitting for Renegade Nun to have emphysema.

My cough was so bad that instead of spending a festive night with my friends, I retired home and tried to fall asleep early. As usual, I ended up glued to the cable news networks, fully obsessed with the presidential elections.

The following week was a blur of coughs. People continued to stare at me as I wondered if I was succumbing to some sort of cancer that manifested itself in cold symptoms. I bitched about being sick all of the time. I bitched about missing days and days of boxing. I suspect everyone but MP grew tired of listening to me (if you're reading this MP, now's NOT the time to be honest! Kisses!).

Oh, the patience of Canadians!

And, just when I thought things couldn't get worse, worse they became. During an especially awful coughing fit on Friday, November 7th, I severely pulled my intercostal muscles on my right side. Now, in addition to coughing like the fate of the free world depended on it, it hurt to breathe, laugh, and, oh yeah, cough. I cried about "my rib, oh, my aching rib!" all weekend. Amma told me to suck it up. My brothers ignored me. MP commented that this was an unfortunate turn of events.

I had moved onto Robitussin bottle number two and wondered if perhaps my rib pain wasn't an intercostal muscle pull at all. What if it was another manifestation of cancer. I fretted and, finally, finally called my doctor, looking for a cure!

All I found, instead, was a message stating that the number had been changed. Extensive Google research revealed that my doctor had upped and moved without informing any of his patients.


So, after hours of extensive online research, I found someone who looks to be a capable physician, wrote out a timeline of my lingering sickness, and brought it to him. In turn, he prescribed me with antibiotics ("you've fought this cold valiantly but sometimes it's okay to ask for a little extra help"); a strong cough suppressent ("be careful, this is a narcotic"); and Celebrex("it'll help with the severe intercostal pain").

The cough medicine is making me a bit loopy, my gastrointestinal system is experiencing all kinds of crazy because of the antibiotics, and the Celebrex has me feeling like an old fart, but I'm on the road to recovery...and might very well be boxing again tomorrow.

Anyway, that's why I couldn't blog quite as often as I would've liked to readers.

Forgive me.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008


I am a proud, proud American tonight.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008


Update: The calm to which I refer below has left me, only to be replaced, once again, by my constant companion since yesterday--an upset stomach.

The Nerddd just voted for Obama/Biden. She wants all of you (especially you kitten-fools out in the swing states) to do the same.

I've never been prouder to vote and after years of fretting, a calm has settled over me. I suspect that I'll return to wiggin' out tonight as the polls close, but right now, this is a good feeling. Go Obama.