This photo really only exists as proof that I made it through the day. I’ve entered my 24th hour with this headache, though. I’m scared to go to bed because I might wake up with it again, and I am so tired of being sick. There is entirely too much awesome stuff in my life for me to tend to for me to spend another day writhing in my bed for all the wrong reasons.…
Felt good enough to spend some time at the house, unpacking boxes of books and knick-knacks, running ratty paper towels over dusty panes, measuring windows and walls to get an idea of what stuff will be able to fit where, and making notes in neat cursive on old notebook paper. Gave two tours of the house and even got a bottle of wine hand delivered to me by Mr. Fancycwabs, Professional Educator, himself. So far…
Friday night I went to bed bundled up, freezing and achey, and woke up feeling terrible with some sort of rash on my elbow and seriously sore eyeballs. It didn’t take long for the itchiness to spread: My feet, then arms, then calves. Before I knew what was happening, I realized there were splotchy red welts all over me. I took two Benadryl, napped it out, woke up with clear skin, and headed to work…
I work with ladies who can do some amazing things in the kitchen. This time Rebecca fooled everyone into thinking she’d bought these little donuts. Nope. She baked them. [Project 365]
Buying a house has been the most harrowing, confusing, frustrating, hard-fought, demoralizing, exhilarating, nerve-wracking, crazymaking experience of my life. My loan officer — for whom who I have Kerry V to thank — called my purchase a miracle, and said she’d “given birth to a Turner loan,” which only came to fruition less than 24 hours before the actual deadline to close. For some completely masochistic reason ($8,000 in sweet Obamabucks!), I chose to buy…
Stephanie had some fun in the kitchen, which usually ends up benefiting the office. I chose the cyclops, for reasons I will not get into here. [Project 365]
The Sidelines crew, circa 2001 (photos by Matthew Starling, if memory serves): And what group photo would be complete without a group display of rude gestures? I’d been wondering what I’d done with these photos for a while. They were tucked inside a shoebox in my storage trunk. These people are more than partially responsible for my completely unhealthy addiction to newspapering. Also mom jokes.
So I’m rifling through every single thing I own, trying to toss what’s expendable and pack what’s not. I came upon my stack of Collages, dating back to the mid-’90s (working in what used to be the Student Publications office had many perks, one of which was access to back issues), and instantly remembered these two poems from the Fall 1997 edition that I’d fallen in love with when I encountered them back in 2001…
My grandmother e-mailed me this photo, taken yesterday at the Dodge Store on Wayne Road in Savannah, Tenn., where, as high schoolers, Phil and I would go and get pizza sticks, jojo potatoes, chicken strips, a roll, and Golden Flake sourdough butter pretzels — a fine spread to take home to consume in the pulsing glow of a television. I like to think that I would be entirely overqualified for the advertised position.
I’m letting myself celebrate, even if it all goes to shit. [Project 365]
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