Thank you for all the well-wishes. I have been very neglectful in my blog reading lately. You’d think a person who spends all day sitting in the same place, with no real work to do and nothing but Project Runway re-runs on would have time.

Truth is I’m still busy. Filling syringes. Even sick people have stuff to take care of.

Thankfully, it turns out I do not have MRSA. That is a blessing in itself, but I do have a rather nasty staph infection that I can’t say, let alone type the name of on here. Nasty enough that they inserted a PICC line (not fun at all), and I will be on IV antibiotics every 8 hours until February 11th. Sound like fun?

As I listened to the home health nurse explain to us last night how to draw up syringes of this medicine and that medicine, I thought about all the medical care really sick people go through. Especially those who have the responsibility of caring for a sick child and all the work that it entails.

I spent one summer during college working at a place called Bradford Woods. They hosted 1-2 week camps all summer for children with various illnesses and disabilities from Riley Children’s Hospital in Indianapolis. For 11 weeks I lived in a cabin that was not air-conditioned and took care of 8 campers at a time who required 24 hour care. I did this with 4-5 other counselors.

They called us counselors, which was really a joke. Our main role was as a nurse. The various camps included a week of children with down syndrome, a week for children with cancer, two weeks of children with cerebral palsy and several two week sessions that included a broad range of diagnosis’s (that included everything from AIDS to spina-bifida to children assessed at a cognitive level of 48 months).

There were very few campers who did not require constant attention, but to see their faces light up when they arrived in “the woods” as they called it, was priceless. Most of them had only known the inside of their own homes and hospital rooms as scenery. To live in an actual cabin and trek through the miles of paved hiking trails, was a dream come true. This was chance to be a regular kid by camping out under the stars.

The amount of physical work that went into this job was unreal and taxing on my own body. If only for a mere 7 days, I knew what it was like to be their caregiver on a 24 hour basis and it was hard - physically, emotionally, mentally, even spiritually. One of the areas they did not touch upon during our 3 week training was how affected you would be by these children.

I found myself falling into love with each of them, but in-particular there would be one in each session that just stole my heart. You wanted to make them all better and fix their problems, but the issues were well beyond my control. Learning that took most of the summer.

If anything the experience made me appreciate my own health. I was offered a chance to return the following summer to work there, but as much as my heart grew during the previous summer, it also ached. Instead I choose to follow other interests and I always wished I’d given those children one more summer of my time. Now more than ever, as I sit here trying not to wallow in the physical abilities I don’t have, I wished I’d chosen differently. Because my limits are temporary and theirs were for a lifetime.

Can I just say how incredibly lucky I feel to have found that one person meant for me in this world? I truly believe in soul mates that are handpicked by God. Sometimes lust and love get confused and we fall for someone who isn’t meant to be around for the long-haul. Sure they’re fun and you enjoy being with them, but they usually aren’t the type to stick out the storms that we weather throughout life.

I met a couple guys that I could have made a life with, but I strongly question whether they would have stuck with me over the past couple of years and I now know what I had with them wasn’t unconditional love.

There was a time in college when all my friends were either engaged or in a serious relationship. I was in serious drought mode for a few years, but I had a few really bad dates that I’m thankful for. Those bad dates made me realize the importance of waiting for the right person to come along and not to settle just to be satisfied.

First, there was the blind double date with my cousin Stephanie. She promised me that he was as tall as I was (5′10). Guess what? He wasn’t even close! That started the evening out on a bad note. We saw a movie and the guy needed a booster seat to see, so we sat near the very front.

We went to dinner afterwards where everyone but me was over 21 and could drink, so I was the designated driver. After a few beers this date proceeded to tell a horrific story of a dog that was barking on his property one night. He claims he shot the dog, cooked the meat and ate it. The story coincided with our steaks arriving at the table. Dinner was then over in my books.

Over Christmas break one semester my loving father set me up with some client’s son who was in town for the holidays. I only agreed to this blind date because the guy was in medical school. I’m shallow I know. It had its awkward moments and the conversation was pretty light until he asked if I’d read any good books lately.

My response was that the last book I read was “The Great Gatsby” in high school because I couldn’t find the Cliff Notes. Well that set this scholar into hysterics.

I can’t imagine how red my face was as the other people dining around us were looking, while he ranted about plagiarism and lectured me on taking the easy way out. Dinner ended a little early that night, as did the date.

You’d think I’d learn my lesson, but I let a friend set me up with a guy she knew who was involved in a youth ministry program at college. I figured this guy should be harmless, but I over-estimated the power of Jesus. When he picked me up in the lobby of my dorm the first words out of his mouth were, “Look, I know I’m hot and by the end of the night you’ll be lusting after me, but I’m saving myself for marriage. So hands off.”

I kid you not. He came out waving his freak flag with both hands.

That was the end of my blind dates. I figured a life of celibacy was far better than the guys I’d encountered. Thankfully being patient paid off in many, many ways.

I was never really an honor roll student. Bringing home C’s was an accomplishment.

My parents finally accepted the fact I was average early on and learned not to expect much of me. I think they were just relieved the short bus wasn’t pulling up in front of our house every morning and my mom didn’t have to take responsibility for smoking while pregnant (or that time they dropped me on my head).

They tried though. My mom always worked with me on homework, even when she wanted to beat her head against the wall because I didn’t understand that the word “sale” and “sail” were different.

I clearly remember our reading group names in second grade. Mine was the “turtles.” The better readers were in the “cougars” or the “jaguars.” See anything wrong with those titles? Nothing like labeling a kid slow in the second grade. Ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecy?

Story of my life. I was always in the lower class no matter what the subject. I had some pretty poor teachers along the way and some pretty good teachers. The poor ones let me slide through, which hurt more than it helped in the end. You would have thought the good ones would have noticed something was wrong, but most of them were too busy making sure all the students liked them.

College was a very different story. In some ways I excelled and in others I failed. When you are presented with subjects you truly enjoy learning it’s amazing how well you can do. But then came that one requirement I dreaded…college algebra.

I successfully failed 9 times, but before I made it to lucky number 9 there was a revelation.

One of the other general education requirements was an intro Economics course. It really was an interesting class and I did fine until I turned in a workbook full of hand-drawn graphs, which apparently were totally backwards. I didn’t see it, but the professor did. The next thing I know I’m in the learning center getting tested for dyslexia.

Most cases get caught early on, but I squeaked by. It just took me longer than most students to comprehend what I was learning. My brain sees something one way and I have to arrange it into the way I’ve memorized as being correct, before I can do anything with it.

Turns out I’m not slow, I’m special.

As you can imagine this has turned into quite the family joke. Anytime I mix something up it gets referenced. Like abdominal snowman instead of abominable snowman.

Seems like the new thing is doing interviews via blogs. It’s almost as new as sliced bread! I’ve done 2 this week. They were actually kind of fun & I had extra time since it’s spring break. I’m going to post the short one here that Mrs. Chicky grilled me with.

1) Seriously, what the heck does “Fenicle” mean?
Fenicle was my grandmother’s maiden name. She was one of 6 girls and being such a unique last name, I guess my mom felt it was sad not to carry it on. I made up a story in middle school after being humiliated by a full-name roll call and told people it was French for Nicole. Sounded good anyway.

2) Dog person or cat person?
I am definitely NOT a cat person (sorry!). I almost didn’t marry my husband because his parents had a cat and it scared the heck out of me!! The first time I saw it I didn’t know what it was. It must have weighed 40 lbs and his dad kept it shaved. We recently got a new puppy. You can read about how hell froze over here.

3) Brad Pitt or George Clooney?
Oh man, I’d be 100% George. He’s got that sexy older man appeal. I’m a sucker for older, distinguished men. Freaky I know. Plus I personally never had an interest in Brad. I’m Team Aniston!

4) What was your major in college and what made you choose it?
Truth be told, I choose my college based on where my friends went and I choose my major based on the required subjects. I settled into Child Development & Family Studies (sounds cool uh?) at Purdue because I did not have to take any foreign languages. I choose the “Youth & Family Services” specialization. See in high school I took 1 year of Spanish, but I never really bothered to learn it. They wouldn’t let me take the second year. Something about how I mocked the language? Spanish would be a hell of a lot easier if we just used “el” in front of a word and “o” after. For example: El-lamp-o OR El-cool-o

5) What is your biggest fear?
Fear? I can remember my two biggest fears used to be losing someone I love and being in a serious car accident. Both happened in 10 months time….so what’s left? My biggest fear now is falling, especially down steps. I seriously have nightmares about it. I don’t know if it is because I am unbalanced due to the leg/ankle injuries from the accident or just a fear of getting hurt again.

Thanks Mrs. Chicky!!

Theory of Thought bestowed upon me a “Thinking Blogger” award. She obviously didn’t read about how I flunked college algebra 9 times. I’m not much of a thinker, but thanks!!

In spirit of this made-up-make-ya-feel-the-love award, I’d like to pass it on to several daily reads (in no particular order) - Canape, Jail Diet, Kate, Devra, & Haley.

Enjoy. Pass along, just don’t pass it back!

My husband and I enjoyed a get-a-way to relive our college days this week. We graduated almost 7 years ago and haven’t been back to Purdue since. It’s where we grew up, switched majors at least a dozen times as we “found” ourselves, called home to our parents to ask for more money, stayed up way too late, skipped a few classes, went on some spring break road trips, probably plagiarized a few papers, frequented a couple bars, sang some karaoke and fell in love. Campus had changed quite a bit. New buildings everywhere. Glad to see that those last student loan payments helped fund some projects. Hell my name should be on one of those buildings - at least a wing.

Driving through campus we caught ourselves getting angry at the students who felt they had the right away to walk across a street in traffic. We cussed the idiots who tried to park their small cars in 3 foot piles of snow in parking lots. Most of all we were jealous. Seven years ago our lives were simple. The only responsibility we had was making sure we kept our grades above failing to stay in school. That’s it. Today we’ve got a mortgage, a son, jobs…the list goes on. Simple is the last word I’d use to describe our lives now, but I think we are much more blessed.

Part of our trip included a basketball game between two state rivals. Our seats of course were not in the student section, instead we found ourselves on the opposite side of the court sitting with the “older” crowd. This was the section who was on a 5 second delay when it came to standing up to yell or cheer and when they sat down the pop you’d hear was from their knees.

We contemplated going to our favorite campus bar after the game, but my husband didn’t want to pay any cover charges or have to listen to a bunch of obnoxious college students. Instead we headed to the store to pick up some cough medicine and went back to the hotel. Upon entering the lobby I was overwhelmed by the fact that the same crowd we sat with at the game was also turning in for the night. There we were in bed 10 minutes later trying to stay awake to watch the news.

The following morning my world truly crumbled. I’ve always felt young. I work with high school students and on occasion I get mistaken for being a teenager. I even got carded at dinner the night before when I ordered a glass of sangria. I’m 29 years-old. That’s still young right? Nate was showering and I was getting ready when it all went down. Looking in the mirror I saw a hair that stood out from the others on my head. I haven’t had my hair highlighted for a long time. So how could this have happened?

I pulled back the shower curtain and asked Nate to examine this single strand.

What do you mean it’s a gray hair? I’m 29! No way can you get gray hair this young!

Oh hell to the no! (quoting Whitney Houston here)

So it comes down to this - I’m 29. I spent the previous day trying to remember where buildings were on a campus I attended just 7 years ago. I sat at a basketball game with people 3 times my age and stayed seated while they stood to cheer. I didn’t go to a bar after the game, instead I came back to the hotel and went to bed. The following morning I discovered my first gray hair.

I made an appointment to get my hair highlighted.