The Perfect Day

All Thanksgiving Break Morgan and I have been looking forward to this Sunday! And it was well worth the wait!
After spending barely two days in Charlotte, Morgan and I spent an hour or so at the Charlotte-Douglas airport overlook with Kate and her boyfriend before hitting the road for home. In separate cars, we tagged alongside each other, keeping time and waving at each other ridiculously whenever we passed each other. The trip was easy and fun. The stresses of the holidays were left behind us on the road, and we flew along I-40 with one thing in mind: sleep! Arriving at home, we unloaded the cars and relaxed in each other's arms before I fell half asleep in bed while Morgan typed up part of his 7-page paper due in two days.

We woke up for our anticipated day together at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. thanks to Sparta's incessant wailing! His wailing turned into batting at my hands with his claws out when I refused to answer. Eventually, Morgan and I were up without a choice and making fluffy, warm pancakes in the kitchen with Sparta tearing through the apartment with the never-ending energy only he and a four-year-old possess.
After pancakes, Morgan and I decided it was time for some cleaning. The apartment has been a mess for weeks! No one has had time or everyone is just too lazy to participate in some housecleaning and organizing. Morgan got the kitchen; I was assigned the living room. While Morgan tackled the mountain of dishes in the sink, I vacuumed with a fury! This may sound "un-perfect" and horrible because it's housework, but Morgan and I enjoyed ourselves! He has this cleaning streak... like Kate! Suddenly, Morgan must clean something and off he goes! I find it to be quite useful. I'll come home from a long day at school and find a recently scrubbed bathroom!
"I love you and I appreciate all that you do."
When the carpet was clean, the tile mopped, and every surface clorox-ed, Morgan and I headed out to Little Honda to visit the Ty-Lynn Christmas Tree Farm.
Since the first time my heart was badly broken, I have dreamed of nothing else but owning my own home. This meant buying my own furniture, painting my walls and then repainting them, gardening out back, cooking the family Thanksgiving turkey, and BUYING MY OWN CHRISTMAS TREE!
I have yet to achieve my goal of owning a house, but I do have an apartment I share with my boyfriend and three roommates. And today I got to go out and by my own Christmas tree for the first time.
Ty-Lynn is a family-owned Christmas tree farm in the middle of nowhere (a.k.a. Cullowhee) and sells everything from 5-foot trees to 16-foot trees to handmade wreaths. Morgan and I were searching for something 3-foot or under because of our lack of space in the apartment. Also, we couldn't afford a large Christmas tree and everything else to light and decorate it as well as a tree stand. When I was searching the web for Christmas tree farms, I saw Ty-Lynn had trees "under 5'" so I called to see how under 5-foot they were.
"Well, we have everything pretty much," said the woman. "We even have little Charlie Brown Christmas trees out back behind the barn. They aren't as perfect, you know, have some gaps and holes. They're $10."
"That sounds perfect!" I cried.
She laughed. "Great!"

So off Morgan and I went through the winding roads of Cullowhee. Up, up, up, up the mountain we went, swerving and curving until we began to follow the happy Santa signs to the Christmas tree farm. Quickly, we realized this wasn't just a Christmas tree farm.
First, we passed a pen of llamas and alpacas!
Then, there were trout ponds.
A chicken coop.
A pot-bellied pig.
Ducks.
This place had it all and it was surrounded by acres and acres of land covered in rolling hills of green grass and Christmas trees!
At the barn, we were given the scoop of how things worked: you rode in the 1950 Chevy truck to the trees, picked one out, the crew cut it down and carted it back, you paid, and got your picture taken to put up on the yearly Christmas board and if you could find your picture next year you got 15% off your purchase! There was a bonfire smoking, free apple cider, and a stand to buy a hamburger or hot dog while you waited for the truck to come back for another load of Christmas tree-buyers.
"Actually, we're just interested in the Charlie Brown Christmas trees," I said.
"Oh, they're around back along the wall."
Morgan and I, now separated from the growing group of people waiting on the Chevy to return, walked around the back of the barn where lined up against the wall were the cut tops of several Christmas trees.
"Aww, Morgan, look!" I cried, delighted by our discovery of little, perfect-for-apartment-sized trees.
After much playful debate, we chose our Christmas tree and headed inside to pay.
"Yay you found one!" said the woman at the register. "You know, we used to throw those out but then people started asking for them."
"It's perfect for our apartment," said Morgan, who I was hugging tightly as he balanced our new little tree on its severed trunk.

We brought the tree home after another lovely drive through the mountains, talking about what I wanted in my dream home and how Morgan might get employee-of-the-month for November. Without a tree stand, Morgan took the mop out of the Wal-Mart blue bucket and there our Christmas tree stands... in a Wal-Mart blue mop bucket.
Off to the Dollar Tree where we bought little ornaments: a 12-pack of mini presents, a 12-pack of little drums, and four clay ornaments of a fat happy reindeer, a ball ornament, a stocking, and a sprig of holly. Then, a gold star with lights at Wal-Mart and a string of lights.
I was bouncing with excitement at the thought of decorating my Christmas tree. It was what I always wanted: a little tree in a bucket, some pretty lights, little tacky ornaments, and a loving boyfriend who willfully covered his hands in sap many times today. He wrestled with the star for a long while trying to make it perfectly straight and after sawing off half of the top spine, he did.
"I love you and I appreciate all that you do!"
Then, the lights! The strand we bought not only did have an electric plug-in on both sides, it was also too short. Morgan tried hanging the lights. Then, I tried hanging them. Both times the tree looked retarded with a strand of lights that obviously did not fit our Charlie Brown tree. It was quite discouraging, but we headed back into town were Morgan picked up a new, longer strand of white lights and we got ourselves some Bojangles chicken! It's not a good Sunday without some Bojangles chicken!

After watching Flash of Genius while munching on chicken, we tackled the lights again. Now we had a 25-foot strand of lights to encircle our the uneven, mismatched branches. First, I tried because of Morgan saying I "had the most experience" because I had told him of how "I was the one who lit the tree back at home because I was the only one tall enough to reach the top branches." Well, that didn't go very well. Morgan had to step in, once again getting sap all over his hands which he CANNOT stand, and fixed my slapdash job. It didn't end up being perfect but there was nothing perfect about the tree in the first place. The last thing that was going to happen was two inexperienced Christmas decorators putting on perfectly placed lights, which is already a sucky, difficult job for any professional.
Finally!! I got to decorate my tree with the little ornaments I picked out! I was soooooo excited!!! It was becoming a family Christmas tree now with dangling gold, red, and silver drums, shimmering presents, and the four clay ornaments that looked like Morgan and I had actually sat down and created them ourselves. With Christmas background music from a CD I found in a Corn Chex cereal box years ago, I was creating my own tradition, the tradition I would start as I began to miss out on the family Christmas tree decorating in Charlotte. And to have Morgan there at my side... well, it'd be really nice if that continued to stay part of the tradition.
Finished, I sat down in the rocking chair and Morgan seated himself on my lap. Together, we rocked while staring at the tree as a beautiful opera number began to play on the CD. And it was the perfect end to our perfect day, and my eyes began to tear up because I was so happy to have this as my last day on break before heading back to the stresses of school in the morning. Just him and me rocking in the chair in the darkened living room of my apartment with Sparta purring on the love seat and the lights twinkling on our Charlie Brown Christmas tree in a mop bucket. I looked at Morgan and smiled blissfully, widely, gleefully.
"Merry Christmas, Morgan."
"Merry Christmas, Lexi."

It's a Cliche to be Thankful

It's the first holiday where I'm not in Charlotte. I've never spent a holiday without my family.
On one hand, it's easier. There's less stress because I know I'll get along with Morgan's parents seeing as I've never met them before and we all walk around being polite to each other and saying things like "how did you sleep?" and "that's a lovely skirt you're wearing." It's been hard since my parents split during the holidays. Which parent are you going to spend it with? How many turkeys are you eventually going to end up eating because you have to celebrate in more than one place? There's a lot of stress! And lately, holidays haven't been going smoothly around the house because you're dealing with four girls in one household without any male supervision.
On the other hand, it saddened me for a week or so that I was missing out on my family Thanksgiving: watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in the morning with Anne and pointing out the giant Hello Kitty balloon, laughing at Ma scrambling around the kitchen like a headless turkey herself trying to make everything perfect, settling in for an after-dinner round of Rummy, Kings in a Corner, or Texas Hold 'Em, being the last person awake and dancing about the kitchen in my socks. It hurt I wasn't going to be there. At first, I wasn't going to be there at all, but Morgan and I worked out a plan that we'll be back in Charlotte for tomorrow. At least then we get the leftovers of Ma's turkey and side dishes.

Still, it'll be different. I'll be constantly enthralled with Morgan making sure he's not left out of the conversation and that none of my outspoken family has said something offensive or downright strange! What if he doesn't like my family? Or what if he has to witness some blowout fight when my and Ma's Scorpio stubbornness hits head-to-head? An even better question: Where are we going to sleep? My one and only bed is back home at apartment. That leaves a love seat too short for me and a couch the dog has made into a nest of nastiness with a pull-out mattress of unbelievable harsh springs! Ahh, too many questions!!
Since I have no answers to those questions, I guess this is the time when I tell you what I'm thankful for. But that's such a cliche! I can be thankful anytime I want. In fact, prepare for a blog post in December dedicated to everything I'm thankful for!!! Take that family-tradition-prayer-of-What-I'm-Thankful-For-around-the-dinner-table-before-eating-and-forgetting-what-everyone-was-thankful-for!!!! Aha! Oh if only my sociology professor had been here for that statement.
"Now, Lex, how does that relate to society's views of family?"
Professor, I still don't know!!
Anyway... this post is not about the issues I have with Professor Guinness who was a great teacher and then turned psycho!
This is about Thanksgiving. Though considering it's only 10:25 a.m. there's really not much Thanksgiving to write about yet. I'm mostly online because Morgan was cooking and he's not a great talker when he's cooking because he gets "in the zone" and all serious which is the same how I get with writing... which is why he, currently no longer cooking, is getting ignored in return.
So I'll guess I'll write again after more Thanksgiving has happened. The forecast predicts a slow, easy, relaxed day of walks with Morgan, turkey, snuggling on the couch, and more turkey! Now that's something to be thankful for!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!!

No Need for that Much Speed

I have had good luck when it comes to cops. Notice how I said "HAVE HAD good luck."
This past weekend Chris and I headed to Atlanta. Chris was off to see his girl. I was going to visit my dad's twin brother and wife. The trip had already started off with drama. We got lost and went nearly an hour out of our way, crossing into a different state... which by the way is my worst nightmare, being lost and ending up in a state I'm not supposed to be in. Then 20 minutes down the road I see a cop car with its lights on close behind me.

Apparently, I had been driving in a 45 mph zone with NO CLUE! I was going 61 mph!! Explicit bad word here! I never saw a speed limit sign. I'm sure Chris didn't either. The last sign I saw was for 55 mph. Had I been there I would have been fine. But no, I was coming off cruise control going downhill which only made me speed worse and that cop came from NOWHERE!
Now, I have a court date in January or pay probably a $150 fine... which Father will not bail me out of. Father, now when I have a cut paycheck by half for winter break is not the time to practice tough love......!!
The trip continued to go sour when Chris and I hit Atlanta at 5:00 p.m. Have you ever sat in Atlanta traffic at 5 p.m.?!?!?! Because that's basically what you're doing for over an hour: sitting there.

Finally, I dropped Chris off with his girl then had to double back into ATLANTA AGAIN for more traffic before reaching my aunt and uncle's just outside of the city. What was supposed to have been a 3 1/2 hour trip turned into NEARLY 7 HOURS!!!!
We returned on Sunday. Monday was class. Tuesday I jumped into Little Honda and drove three hours to Charlotte where I dropped off Remington, Ma's new little kitten. He's a puffball, people! I mean you can barely see his face from puff!

Remington ^_^

After Charlotte, it was back in the car (once again at 5 pm) to inch through over an hour of Charlotte/Concord traffic to Raleigh to meet up at Morgan's house for Thanksgiving. My head felt like someone was pressing two suction cups against my temples and squeezing. My right kneecap was shaking and my buttocks was numb. Correction: Below my waist was numb! Please dear someone, I never want to get into the driver seat of Little Honda again! In fact, I'd rather not get into a car again!
Hey, everyone in Charlotte, I'll be seeing you guys on Friday when I take another 3-hour drive on Black Friday of all days!! Oh, there's gotta be a blog post after that one!

That Phone Call

I've been waiting for that phone call for a year and a half. I knew that when I left for Cullowhee for college, I would eventually get a call saying someone in the family had died or was badly hurt, and when could I spare a minute to drive down? That call came yesterday. My beautiful sister Kate was in the hospital. My beautiful sister Kate was in surgery. I had no choice. I threw clothes in a bag and left Cullowhee.
On Tuesdays, I do not have class until 2:05 p.m. I gracefully lay around the house all morning catching up on homework and "Bret Michaels: Life as I Know It" episodes while Morgan is out in classes. I have class with Chris at 2, and Morgan joins us in our 3:35 class with Professor Guinness. The morning of "that phone call" I was awoken an hour before Morgan's alarm was supposed to go off. It was Ma.
"Is someone dead?" I asked, half kidding and half serious because it had better be important for someone to call before the gracious hour of 9 and after 1 a.m.
"Are you sick?"
"Yes," I growled in my gravelly voice. "What is it?"
"Has Father called you?"
"No."
"I'm on my way now. Kate's in the hospital. She has appendicitis. She's in surgery now."
By the time I had hung up the phone, I had tears in my eyes. Immediately, I reached out and wrapped my arms around now very awake Morgan.
"Lex, what is it? Hey, talk to me! Talk to me," he coaxed while I sobbed in his shoulder.
"It's Kate."

Of everyone, it was my beautiful, strong, intelligent, sister who I loved more than anything. She was in pain. Now. And I was three hours away.

Her appendix hadn't burst. Her situation wasn't life-threatening. She wasn't going to die. Morphine would eventually dull her pain. But as I sat there staring at the wall thinking, I realized I couldn't just sit in my apartment and go to classes pretending everything was ok. Instead, I leaped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and pulled my small suitcase from the closet. I shoved a pair of jeans, a shirt, clean underwear, my phone charger, a book, and snacks into the bag then locked eyes with Morgan.

"I know you're gonna say no," I said, "but I'm gonna ask anyway: will you go with me?"
He sighed. "No, baby. I can't."
I nodded. "I figured. Take care of Sparta. I hope to be back at least by ten tonight."
I ran out of the apartment, jumped into Little Honda, and hit the road.
The trip was a long one even though I shaved off half an hour of my usual destination time. My head was pounding from being sick all week. The weather was horrible with rain all through the state and wicked fog. And there was the time, ticking and ticking. While I was getting closer and closer to Kate, I felt farther and farther away as Little Honda swerved and sped through the mountains. I could not push that car hard enough. Thankfully, I avoided all police and arrived at the hospital five minutes after Kate was boarded up in the pediatrician ward.

After looping around the full parking deck, I hoofed through the one half of the hospital, across the walkway, up a flight of stairs, through the entrance of the main hospital, and into the gift shop to buy Kate a fuzzy animal. There! A bunny!! Kate had always wanted a bunny for a pet and here was a black & white floppy eared bunny!

Holy crap, that thing was expensive, too! No worries. Anything for Kate! I stood at the register where a hospital employee was before me wanting to purchase two items by deducting the money from her paycheck. Well the woman behind the counter couldn't find the "deduct from paycheck" forms. She and her also elderly coworker spent nearly five minutes trying to locate the forms while I impatiently cursed my luck desperately wanting to get to Kate! Finally, I was up and I handed over the bunny. The woman then asked where I had got the rabbit from.

"Over there on the shelf."
"Which shelf?" She walked around the register and over to the corner of the store where I had found the bunny.
I pointed. "That one."
"Right well let's see how much he is. We're having a sale on the stuffed animals." The woman crossed the store to her coworker. "Is this bunny on sale?"
"That one's 20% off."
"Ok, how do I type that in the computer?"
"Like this."
Another two minutes... I was about to just throw a twenty on the counter and say, "Here! It's a donation! Thanks, bye!"
"Is this a present for someone upstairs, a patient?"
Nope, I should have answered, I buy my Christmas presents at the local hospital.
"Yes," I said instead.
"Ok I'll just gift wrap it."
I mentally slapped my hand to my forehead. Fine, Kate will have something fun to open. Whatever. Just put the bunny in a bag and let me go see my very ill sister, woman!
"Is it a boy or a girl? How old are they?"
"It's for my fifteen-year-old sister," I added, my knees bouncing from impatience.
"Ok, I just want to be make sure I got the right age-appropriate bag."
Woman... I don't care if it's got ducks on it. I don't care if its Elmo. Put. The. Bunny. In. A. Bag! AAHHH!!!!!
The woman handed me a red polka-dotted bag. "I put him tail first with the paper open so he can breathe," the cashier woman told me.
I paused a moment to stare before smiling brightly and nodding. "Thanks!" I sprinted from the gift shop and headed to the elevators.
Third floor. Left. Right. Left again. Pediatrics! FINALLY! I pushed open the door... well, I would have pushed it open if it hadn't been LOCKED! A nurse came and opened the door, and I spat out a room number then power walked down to 3106. I saw Seth, Kate's boyfriend, first. He was sitting, half asleep in a chair half in and half our of the hospital room. Then, there was Kate. She lying in a hospital bed wearing a spotted gown with a grayish pale face and dull glint in her eyes. This was not my sister!
Ma and Father were also in the room with Ma getting up from another chair to give me a hug. I handed Kate the polka-dotted bag. And she pulled out the bunny. And the look on her face was worth every second I spent down in that gift shop. I hasn't been there all night to hold her hand. I hadn't been there before she'd been wheeled into surgery. But I had bought her a fuzzy bunny!! I was the ultimate sister!!!
I was able to stay for a few hours to laugh, hang out with my family, eat strangely good hospital food, and be there for Kate before packing up and heading back to the visitor parking garage. Again in the rain, I drove back to Cullowhee and slid into my seat for Human Society nearly 20 minutes late. Exhausted, stressed beyond belief, I listened to my professor talk about the social institution of family and how important it was for the individual. She talked about how family could be blood or it could be emotional or it could be through marriage. Sitting there with my best friend Chris at my side who is like my brother and Morgan behind me who could be my future husband (there's always a chance) with my darling sister Kate on the brain, I couldn't think of a better lesson plan for the day.

***

Kate is doing well and was released from the hospital yesterday. She is at home and is probably sleeping away the morphine. I wish I could be there and I miss her very much. I love you, Kate! You're my brave, brave little sister.

The Low Blood Sugar Diet

Lately, my life has been centered around three things: school work, Morgan, and my hypoglycemia.

Recently, I went to the College Media Conference in Louisville, Kentucky. We stayed in an unbelievable hotel snuggled next to the Ohio River and for half a week were supposed to attend various seminars being held at the conference. The Western Carolinian brought home two awards, one with my name on it, and we are beyond thrilled.

However, the trip was slightly ruined because once again my hypoglycemia struck. It's partly my fault. It's partly the hotel's fault for not providing promised breakfast or for lying to my roommate and me saying there was none (apparently there was speculation that the staff lied because Sam and I didn't appear "fancy enough" to actually be staying in the Executive Tower, which we were). Anyway, one thing led to another and after attending only one seminar, I was out on the hotel room couch for the rest of the day. The following morning, Sam drove me partway to meet up with my darling Morgan who drove six hours in all and crossed two state lines just to pick me up. He even called Sam multiple times, told her what I needed, and kept watch over me via text messages the entire time. Sam and Morgan, I owe you everything!!! Without you two... just thank you from the bottom of my heart! Especially you Sam since we had only met four days before! If you ever need anything...!!!!!

After the scare in Kentucky and other instances throughout the weeks, Morgan became insistent that I see someone about my condition. I agreed. I am sick of living my life like this. I am sick of being unable to spend the night over anywhere that is not my home. It doesn't have to happen.

My hypoglycemia has only been a major factor in my life in the past two years. Before, I was a high school kid living with a strict schedule of eat breakfast, go to school, eat lunch, come home, eat a snack, Ma makes dinner, go to bed. That was life for years. Then, I was shipped off to college and everything changed! Immediately, I was fending for myself forced to eat at a dining hall that did not cook like my mother. In 15 months, I lost over ten pounds from stress, poor dining choices, my condition, other illnesses, and more stress! I lost more weight over the summer while suffering from depression due to what had actually happened over the course of my freshman year (cough... The Viking... yeah, you know).

So I took Morgan's advice and last Friday we went to Harris Regional, the local hospital, and visited the dietitian. Technically, this woman "Mrs. Nutrition" was a specialist in diabetes, but she seemed to know what she was talking about over the phone, so I made an appointment.
Morgan and I walked into her office, a cramped room covered with shelving which is in turn covered with rubber molds of fake food. I couldn't even look at it for it was so realistic yet not... it looked like real eggs and cereal and muffins that had been left sitting out for months. But Mrs. Nutrition made us feel right at home and got down to the basics.
"Here's what you got," she announced. "There are two types of hypoglycemia, and I think you have reactive hypoglycemia."
I already knew this from previous, personal research.
Mrs. Nutrition continued to talk, asking about my diet on a daily basis and filling me in on the right kinds of food I should eat. The whole process took less than an hour. I figured after her talk, we would get to testing my sugar levels. But no, we were showed the door.
"If you have any questions, just email me, ok? But yeah, that's it."

The whole ordeal was overwhelmingly crushing, me looking for some sort of help that wasn't the whole diet crap that I'd been fed my entire life, and Morgan and I stood in the parking lot afterwards, both clearly upset and exasperated by the experience. We drove home in silence, Morgan patting me hand while I silently cried over the verdict I had been given, the verdict I had been living my whole life: carry around a canister of almonds wherever you go. Yeah, well... that's not going to fix the problem, now is it? For two years now, I have desperately been looking for a cure. Mrs. Nutrition had completely crushed such a dream. I must add though she was a lovely woman, just not right for me.

After pulling myself back together, I began to read the documents Mrs. Nutrition had given me to take home. As I read, ideas began to swirl about in my mind. Reactive hypoglycemia didn't look right at all. Instead, fasting hypoglycemia sounded more like what I have. According to the papers, hypoglycemia is rarely diagnosed in children, and I've been stricken with this disease since childhood. Reasons for child hypoglycemia include metabolism problems, something my parents have brought up in the past and quite recently why my low blood sugar is so strong. So I decided to get a second opinion... immediately!

To the Western Carolina Health Center I went yesterday and made an appointment with a doctor for "testing."
Background: I am DEATHLY AFRAID OF NEEDLES!!! Thanks to a horrible, mind-shattering experience as a child with needles, I have since been forever in panic when it comes to shots and drawing blood. The word "testing" had me in a thither for the rest of the day.
To the Health Center I showed up at this morning. Morgan was supposed to come back with me but the nurse forbid it. In front of some strange woman, we kissed each other good bye and I had to bravely go into the back by myself while Morgan went off to the class he was missing for me.
In the exam room, I went through all the ordeals of a normal check-up with the scale, thermometer, and blood pressure. Then, the hilarious doctor I had seen last year for bronchitis entered my room. Yay, a welcome, familiar face!!! Praise God! That was truly a welcome surprise! "Dr. Grin" asked me the different, more personal diet questions... what my symptoms were, how long has I been noticing what he called "spells." Dr. Grin honestly believed I might not have hypoglycemia at all. So he ordered a CBC and other tests.
"And how are these tests administered?" I asked fearfully.
Dr. Grin pointed directly at the crook of my left arm.
Yep, that's what I feared. Immediately, my tears began to fill up with tears.

"I'm not going to ride you about being afraid," Dr. Grin stated. "Personally, I don't like them myself. Here's what you do: tell the lab technician right off the bat that you're scared! Then do not look!! The moment you walk in, do not look at anything! Don't look! Don't look! Then, when she gets going, immediately start talking about something. So how's that weather? You'll be fine."

I waited painfully in the waiting room until I was called into the lab where I got blood drawn. I forced the poor technician to tell me about her cocker spaniel and I told her about Sparta. It was all fine and dandy until I returned to the waiting room. As soon as I sat down, I immediately felt the room close in. My vision became blurred. A ringing sounded in my ears, blocking out everything else. Heat flooded my face like someone had thrown a hot towel over me. I felt vomit rise in the back of my throat. I put my head between my legs and tried to breathe as calmly as possible as the pain around my prick of a wound throbbed in larger rings up and down my arm. The receptionist came out and checked on me!

When Dr. Grin called me back to go over my blood work, he asked how I did.
"Well the receptionist had to check on me," I answered.
"Yes, I forgot to tell you that afterwards you have to start reading a magazine, get your mind off it." We reentered the examination room, and he sat on a stool. His finger tapped his temple. "The mind is a powerful thing."
My blood came back perfect. Now, I wait for Dr. Grin to call me back in a few days to let me know if everything else is healthy, such as my thyroid glands and liver. He wants me to come back to the Health Center in the middle of a "spell" to test my blood then. And I'm thinking... huh! That'll be a fun trip! Dr. Grin still isn't sure whether it's hypoglycemia I really have or not. And wants to see if my sugar gets as low as 33 or in that area.
"And what if it's not hypoglycemia?" I asked tentatively.
And he spoke three of the worst words in the medical profession. "I don't know."
I've been in bed since returning home from campus, skipping my two classes. Wrapped up in Morgan's fuzzy and fluffy pajama pants that I got him for our anniversary and his button up shirt, I have been watching movies all day with pain in my arm and coughing nonstop from the "Cullowhee Crud." Hopefully, my tests will come back all clear and I will actually be able to pull off going to the Health Center during one of my attacks.
I'll let you all know...!

What I Said about December

I know in my last post I was all about kicking December where it hurt and that it wasn't going to bother me. I was either wrapped up in the moment of writing or naive or trying to forget. But I'm not that strong about December and the fact that Morgan's leaving.
While I should be getting ready for the Health Center right now, I'm here in bed crushed by what I saw on Facebook:

 "Morgan ****** is attending "Graduation" on December 18, 2010 at 2:00 p.m.

Ramsey Center"

That was hard to read! Because I know that's it.

And yesterday Morgan and CC were joking around how they'd never come back to Cullowhee and should try out a restaurant soon. Morgan turned around and whispered to me, "But I'll be back for you."
Still, something about the whole situation, how light and careless it was, tears started rolling down my cheeks like the end movie credits being rewound. Morgan promised how we'd do all this stuff together and he'd be there for me every day.
"But I'll still need you after you're gone," I whimpered sadly.
He didn't know what to say to that, as I recall.
Secretly, I'm not brave whatsoever about December. I can picture myself driving back and forth from Raleigh every chance I get and every weekend Morgan will have off. But it won't be that picture perfect. He'll be supporting himself by himself on a full-time job for the first time in his life. I will working as the news editor of The Western Carolinian and carrying a load of classes I need to graduate. There will be sleepless nights on the road. There will be arguments over the phone. There will be frustration, emotionally and physically. It won't be fair!
But if we can get through it, I'll never let him go!

"Separation II," Edvard Munch, 1896

This Post was Supposed to be about Something Else

It snowed last night. I'm curled up at my computer desk listening to Morgan snore gently behind me. Now, we are both sick with what everyone calls "The Cullowhee Crud!!!" He is just coming out of it; I plunged into it last night. I have a raging fever, a wicked cough, sandpaper for a throat, and an unbelievable headache that occasionally cripples me. Getting to see beautiful falling snow last night was a blessing and for a moment, I could ignore the pain of my own body. However, by this morning, it was gone leaving only a few traces that it had been here at all.

Tomorrow is my one-month anniversary with Morgan. Sick as we are, we are both looking forward to it. He's finally going to cook for me!! I am beyond excited at this prospect, even if I don't like whatever he cooks. It was how I met Morgan.

He came over to the apartment one night to cook dinner for CC. In comes this guy with hair much shorter than I'm used to with my boys and their long "flowing locks" like River's black mane and Christian's shaggy mop, and this guy just strolls into our kitchen with all the purpose and comfort of someone who been living there a lot longer than CC and I actually had been. Immediately, Morgan is all business. He doesn't even introduce himself to me, sitting at the dining table wrapped around a text book, reading. Instead, he and CC pick up on conversation like they'd already been talking for hours; it's mostly about Morgan's work while I occasionally peek over my book with interest as Morgan begins unloading ingredients from his various bags and a cooler full of frozen shrimp. I don't remember exactly when we finally first spoke to each other or what was said. I know that when he was finished with dinner, I didn't like the taste of it and picked at it for half an hour before Morgan finally called me out on it. I think I said something along the lines of "I don't know you so I don't have to impress you." That still doesn't make any sense to me.

While I don't recall the details of how we first met, I remember that my interest was piqued about this boy. He came over, often teased me, and had this dry humor I was attracted to. It wasn't "love at first sight" or "I fell head over heels" the moment I met him. He's a senior graduating next month. I'm little sophomore who often proved how naive and silly I am. But when he badgered and badgered me about going to shoot with him and CC, I finally relented. As as we stood in the cold shooting guns at paper targets flapping in the shrill breeze, I began to feel something.

"HEY I THINK I LIKE MORGAN," I texted Chris... except that I nearly sent the text message to Morgan himself!!! That would have been interesting.

Chris was skeptical. He knew it'd be silly to get into a relationship with someone who was packing up and moving out a few mere months away. And he was right and I knew that. What if something did happen between Morgan and me? It was October. We'd have two months together before we were split apart, and I'd already seen the horrors of a long-distance relationship with Chris and his ex and my mother and her ex. It's nowhere near easy. Anyone who says otherwise was probably cheating on their faraway significant other.

Still, I am ultimately stubborn and decided to let what happened happen. For once, I wasn't going to make the first move. And for once... I DIDN'T! Morgan did! I should have known then that he'd be this special to me now.
It was the day I finished my book... a Tuesday. My friends had blown me off in celebrating and I told CC let's celebrate! Morgan and I texted each other randomly at the time, and I invited him over because I wanted a real celebration. He arrived at the apartment and was once again sick. So he plopped down on the loveseat beside me as I was sipping on my first horrible-tasting beer. CC, Morgan, and I bantered back and forth in a harmless manner, CC and I waiting for "Sons of Anarchy" to come on FX at 10.

"Ghost Rider" came on at 8, and suddenly CC had to go somewhere... class, I think it was... before returning just in time for "SoA." Suddenly, Morgan and I, inches apart from each other, were completely alone in the dark with only the glow of the TV before us. And we just started talking. It was all innocent fun, but I remember thinking how great he was.

It was he who began the tickle war once he found my greatest weakness.

It was he who gave me this look, stretched out his arm, and said, "Come 'ere," and I immediately curled up beside him.
It was he who ran his fingers through my hair.
It was me who was smiling all night long.
One month later I couldn't be happier. Chris thinks he's great. "He's the first non-douche bag you've dated since I've known you," Chris stated.
He drove six hours and crossed two state lines to pick me up from Kentucky when I got sick.
Coughing and still sick himself, he took care of me all last night, sleeping on the floor so I could have the twin bed to myself.
He took a split shift at work so he could be there for me when we went to Harris Regional for information on hypoglycemia management (that's what this post was actually supposed to be about! We're getting to that).
He loves me.
December can kiss my.................!

A Different Kind of Lullaby

It’s 5 a.m. Once again, I’m awake at a horribly early hour because Morgan’s been sick, sick, sick! It used to be an all night thing where he’d cough and hack and sniff and snort and wheeze. Now it’s limited to one-two hours in the early morning. I’d feel bad for him if I didn’t know that I’m soon to come down with the same thing, haha! No, I do feel sorry for him. The boy goes into work usually around this time and is dead on his feet from being just so sick and lack of sleep.

 Today, we tried a medical cure: Mucinex. You know that obnoxious commercial with the animated “cough” that’s moved into someone’s lungs? Yep, that’s Mucinex. And it’s supposed to work really well. I don’t know if the gigantic, uncoated pill that nearly made Morgan vomit everywhere actually worked… but boy was M in a good mood! Lordy Lou, that boy was high for at least two hours. It was nerve-wracking but hilarious at the same time to see him that way. There was a goofy, lop-sided grin that couldn’t be wiped from his face no matter how hard he was coughing.

I used to be quite snobbish about my sleep. When Anne was born, I was a teenager on the cusp of enjoying extremely late nights with sugary snacks and long mornings wrapped up in my comforter. Well, that was a destroyed dream as a newborn was introduced to the family, and if ever she woke me up at an hour I deemed was unreasonable, I would cry myself back to sleep in bed from disappointment, anger, and pure exhaustion from having already been awoken by her crying multiple times before that night. Going to college, I didn’t let anyone ruin my sleep. …Except for the fact that I lived in a freshmen dorm where the newly found freedom of my suite and hallmates was too much for them so they were prone to whoop and holler along the hallway all night long. Throw in an uncomfortable mattress and no air conditioning during the months of August, early September, April, and May, and I still wasn’t getting any sleep. My beautiful apartment dropped out of the sky and I have been sleeping like a rock for the betterment of three months.

Then, Morgan showed up and before our long separation over Fall Break, I asked if he would stay the night with me. It was one of the longest nights of my life, tossing and turning in a tiny twin bed that hardly fits my long, gangly legs and arms. My feet fall off the end and sharing with 9 lb. Sparta is already difficult. Another human being is just an outrageous thought! But we did it anyway. And we continued to do it. And I became used to it. But when I left for Kentucky last week, I was placed in a luxurious hotel with a huge queen-sized bed all to myself. And I immediately grew out of sharing a bed. Apparently, I wasn’t as used to it as I thought I was! And now Morgan is sick and I’m lucky to get five hours of straight sleep.

My snobbish ways, however, have vanished. Morgan has changed that whole side of me so where before I would have grumbled and bitched about being awake at 5 a.m. and now I use it to my advantage to write a blog post. I have extra play time with Sparta. I can get up and about to make a snack. I can make fun of infomercials on TV. I can Facebook like never before! And when I return to bed, there is an amazing guy waiting for me with open arms, coughing, but still good and happy to see me.

And he remembered our one-month anniversary is on Sunday!! Yes, I cried.

I should have been more patient when it came to Anne. I should have grown up and accepted it. She’s my family. But that was then and this is now, and I’m not going to act like a stuck-up little high schooler anymore (well, at least not about this!). Instead, I’m going to wrap up this post, save it to my computer as my Internet is currently not working so I can’t immediately post, turn off my computer, and jump back into bed with my snoring boyfriend. Maybe I’ll fall asleep. Maybe not. What will happen is I’ll be happy and that’s all that matters to me.

I’ll sleep in December, I tell him. Definitely in December.

"The Nighttime, Sniffling, Sneezing, Coughing, Aching, Have a Nice Coma, Medicine"

How's that New Boy

I've been pretty mum on my relationship with Morgan. Aside from his right to his privacy, my blog post haven't mentioned him much because my family reads this blog. My parents in particular... well, there are some things I'm just not going to tell them about him and me. They don't need to know. We're not sharing diseases or running the risk of getting me pregnant (for abstinence is the best birth control), but I'm sure there are a few things that would make them blush or they would frown upon.

Then, I had a long discussion with Chris. Last year, Chris was my rock when things with The Viking and the boys got shaky. I was telling Morgan today that the great thing about Chris is that he has an opinion about EVERYTHING which means I can talk to him about ANYTHING! Whatever I have to say, he already has an entire string of thoughts on. Mostly, I pause after being asked an opinionated question. I need a moment to collect my thoughts and really mull over what I think about the topic. Chris doesn't have this problem. You ask him a question and he immediately has an answer. It makes me wonder how much time he has on his hands to think about all these possible opinions. Chris is my go-to guy for just about anything, but specifically for Christian-related stuff. He was raised by a pastor and his love for God is some days above comprehension for me. He is honest and direct and is not afraid to hurt my feelings. So I felt completely comfortable and knew that I was getting the truth when I began to ask him about my relationship with Morgan and what were good boundaries to set when it came to physical stuff. And even though he's a guy, it's not weird between us. We're not like that. Like we're brother and sister without the awkward "hey we're related we shouldn't talk about sexual stuff."

Chris likes to believe his opinion is "a standard." And while I rely on him, I don't need an opinion from him to get me through the day... though sometimes it may have seem that way to him. Like the time The Viking made me upset and I ran to his room sobbing asking "What should I do?" Like the many times that happened last year!

On relationships, Chris has strict opinions. He has himself a mini checklist in what he wants in his perfect woman, like no smoking and a love for God. Chris hates drama! He doesn't date around. If he dates someone, it's because he can see himself marrying this girl in the next two to five years. He has standards I look up to. He also doesn't believe in living together.

Now, Morgan and I... I don't consider us living together. Neither does Morgan. But Morgan does sleep over in my bed. And, I was afraid to tell Chris this because I was wary of a long-winded speech full of opinions.

Moment...

Ma and Father (until this moment in time) don't know Morgan sleeps over. In fact, I'd be surprised if I didn't see an eyebrow-raising Facebook Wall post or get a phone call after they read this. But I've learned a thing or two. I know a few family secrets. I've seen some questionable stuff. And, I'm not afraid to stand up and say first off, my boyfriend leaves for Raleigh in December permanently and I'm going to spend all the time I want with him and secondly, I know a few secrets that I don't consider to be secrets but the people they are about do...............is my underlying message getting through? Personally, I don't think Morgan sleeping with his arm around me all night is half as bad as some of the things I know about my parents! You gotta love it! ;)

With that said, I'd like to direct a line to my dearest sister Kate: darling sister whom I adore and protect, you are in high school! And you may be in love with your Eminem-look-a-like but baby, don't be sleeping around with some boy, and I'm talking about sleepovers and/or sex. You are very young, and I know you don't feel that way, but when you look back and Eminem isn't still with you, you're going to regret all those boys you let sleep over because there should only be one that really sleeps over every single night. And you are going to love him more than anything in the world. And you are going to want to give your life for him. And he is going to put a gigantic rock on your left ring finger. And he is going to give you the world. And you two are going to have a beautiful family. And this may be Eminem and if it's not, you're not going to remember him anymore. Or least I don't want you to because you're going to be remembering him as the boy who you loved too young and the one you let spend that one night that wasn't so great after all. Hey, maybe you two have already shared a bed. I like to pretend you're still my baby sister but you are a big girl now and can make those decisions. Just keep a clear head and don't let him talk you into anything!

Anyway......... I never told Chris that Morgan and I had sleepovers of the innocent kind. Of course, Chris pulled one over on me and figured the freaking thing out himself!! And when it slipped out yesterday, he was totally cool about it. Of course, I'm freaking out.
 "Wait a minute, you knew?!" I shrieked.
"Um, Lex... of course you guys are sleeping in the same bed."
"But I thought you had a vendetta against that."
"Look, you're not dumb. You have morals," he began to preach. "I know that waiting and not having sex mean something to you. It's important and you want to share that with your husband." He added something along the lines of what did he care if Morgan and I were sleeping in my tiny twin bed every night.
It made me realize and feel so stupid for ever trying to hide something from my best friend. When it comes to Chris, I should have known better!

.......More on Morgan and myself later! Must. Get. Some. Sleep!

Lynn Rushton, Trust, 2007