Tosillitis and 4am Story Tid Bits

Yeah, so being able to swallow comfortably is definitely one of those things you take for granted. Then you get tonsillitis and its all kinds of "ow."

4am comes along and you realize you need another 500mg of penicillin, two Tylenol or IB Profen, and some throat spray. After that all kicks in you're amazingly happy and bizarre little stories and fanfiction crash through any hope of sleep.

You wake up your in-laws parakeet in the process, so you stick it in the bathroom and resume writing. By the time you're semi done writing, the kids are up for school and you're not quite sure if you want to crawl back into bed or keel over.

I'm opting for bed. And I hope I sleep until I can take my next dose of penicillin. If I sound out of it and sporadic, I probably am. Good night and good morning.

The Explosion of Stuffs

Wow, my last post was really just a few days before I got married?!? Holy crow!

Hmm, well, I got married (happy to boot thank you!), traveled to Ohio, saw awesome family and friends, went to Cedar Point, came back, went to Boise for a bit, chilled at home, looked for work, Mother-in-law is an angel on earth and gave us work.

I've also been finagled into getting a Farmville on Facebook. It's the new cyber crack. I've been playing with sketches and some graphic design shtuffs, and I've been kicking around some original novel ideas. I breathe some where in between all that and house stuffs and cooking.

For the moment Dustin and I are in Idaho Falls with his family. It's a nice break from the Burg.

Work is cool because it involves invoices and flowers and I can handle that. :D Yay!

Thoughts

Thoughts, I've always conceived them as something tangible, having mass, taking up space. They have to, that's the only reason why I can figure that thinking "'too much" can give you a headache. And I say "too much" because there's no such thing, in fact, it is my belief that the act of inner reflection is actually becoming an endangered past time. "Too much" is relative and in by saying means that you are thinking only more so than what you usually do. Like working a dormant muscle, it aches after use and slowly or quickly becomes accustomed to the new demands depending on your mental regime and/or expectations.

There's been many a time where there has been a cranial thunderstorm and my proverbial buckets couldn't keep up with the down pour. I simply was swept away and cleaned up after the typhoon ceased.

Then there's the act of being derailed. You may get to your destination at some point and time but the price is usually the loss of your luggage or the loss of someone else's...And that's just perturbing.

Being squished between this conjecture or that introspection is always fun too. Because, like a party, people will congregate where the fun is, so to will your thoughts. Next thing you know, you're up to your mental armpits in deliberation. It's more often than not that once this point is reached, someone will make the complimentary derogatory comment that they can smell your gray matter charring to a fine charcoal. I've often been tempted to reach up to my ear in hopes of finding that they were indeed correct and that I could cut back on some of my art costs. Alas, the insurmountable pressure in my skull would convert the smoldering mess into a cache of diamonds. I say "alas" because it certainly wouldn't be myself enjoying the profit. Diamond, Charcoal, or squishy lobes, its my brain and contrary to popular belief, you really should have one. Use is optional as we so sadly see in today's society...

But I guess I should put out a warning that some thoughts really shouldn't be entertained or allowed to expand past their birth. Take this post for instance, it shouldn't have been allowed to continue after the first word. However, like most things of importance, such as tangents and nonsense, I simply run with it. Catch me if you can!

Gone

I want to be gone. No longer have the ability to think, to exist. I want a moment apart from aching for someone who can't be here. I want a moment where my brain doesn't default to my family calmly falling apart. I want to time warp back to last year where apparently God and I were a lot closer. He's still there, hasn't moved. I've just somehow become despondent and forgot that knees were meant for bending.

Being in this apartment sometimes feels like I've been buried alive with only my thoughts to keep me company. They aren't always pretty fantastical things of mystery. Sometimes they make me question what I do, what I think, what I feel, what I know. It's enough to make me want to crawl out my own skin, my own skull.

The worst thing is, I know this just a rough patch. Tomorrow, it'll be gone, but, it doesn't make today any easier.

One thing that I always used to do when I my thoughts got too heavy was to be grateful for everything. Make a list. So here I go.

I'm grateful for the gospel even if I don't always live it as I should.
I'm especially grateful for my Savior and His Atonement. While I can never fully comprehend it, I know enough. I know when I've screwed up royal, I don't have to be afraid. I just have to acknowledge Godly sorrow, know that its my dear Savior I have offended and disappointed. Offer Him my broken heart and contrite spirit, so that He can mend it and I can move forward again.

I am grateful for my mind and my body, that they work and function as they should. I'm grateful for the scriptures Heavenly Father gave us to nourish our spirit while we are away from our Home. I'm thankful for the direction and lessons found in them as well.

I'm grateful for the Holy Ghost and his companionship, especially during moments like this.
I'm grateful for uplifting and edifying music.
I'm grateful for the people around me that serve as my examples in giving of themselves. I'm thankful for the diversity of those same people.

I'm grateful for kindness, honesty, virtue, love, trust, sunsets, thunderstorms, second chances, talents, beauty. I'm grateful for learning moments. I'm grateful for "ah-ha!" moments. I'm grateful for quiet peaceful moments.

I'm grateful for the temple. I'm grateful for keeping a journal. I've learned more about myself in keeping a record of my thoughts, experiences and habits than if I hadn't. My goal is to get back to serving in the temple once a week. The strength it offers is staggering and I haven't realized that I've missed it until now.

I'm grateful to whoever told me to make "I'm Thankful Lists" when I'm frustrated or depressed. They work.

I'm grateful for those who love me despite my quirks, my imperfections, and other oddities. I'm thankful for patience and kind words. I'm grateful that if I've crumpled under the weight of whatever is happening in my life, God gave me the strength to stand up again. There was a story shared about a woman, Donna, who when teaching about Lehi and his dream she said, “I’d put myself in that picture on the strait and narrow path, still holding to the iron rod but collapsed from fatigue right on the path.” I know how she feels. Later Bruce C. Hafen said of her, "In an inspired blessing given just before her death, Donna’s home teacher said the Lord “accepted” her. Donna cried. She had never felt her single life was acceptable. But the Lord said those who “observe their covenants by sacrifice … are accepted of me.” I can envision Him walking the path from the tree of life to lift Donna up with gladness and carry her home."

Lately, I've been caught up in not knowing everything, but I know enough. A thought taken from Elder Neil A. Anderson's talk from Nov 2008. Couple that with Bruce C. Hafen's talk, Atonement: All for All, and I should be comforted in knowing that "our spiritual journey, is a process of a lifetime."

In moments where I fell like I've been shoved into a blackhole, I'm grateful God gave me the tools to dig myslef back out. I'm grateful He gave me a mind that can bring to rememberance articles, talks and scriptures that will combat the negative thoughts that creep in.

Okay, I'm spent. I don't have the energy to poke and prod my thoughts into any semblence of coherency anymore. And that's okay, because in the words of an exceptional four-year-old, "Jesus will make everything all right." And He will, whether its helping my words make sense, or healing the broken heart, He'll make everything all right. Don't forget it.

The Mis-Adventures of Colon Cleansing

"You'll experience a ... productive bowel movement in the morning..."

Yep, those were the sales clerk's EXACT words before I purchased one of their natural cleansing products. I went this route as opposed to a store bought laxative in hopes of gently correcting inner plumbing problems... Yeeeeah...

The first step in this little cleansing ritual is called the Purifier and you take it a half hour before you eat dinner. Apparently it detoxifies my liver with an arsenal of Milk Thistle Seed Extract, something called Cracked-Wall Chlorella, and other stuff that I've suddenly been wondering if I should be taking by mouth.

Anyway, so liver has been detoxed. A half hour after I eat, I then gag down what the bottle calls Capture. This step requires every fiber type under the sun being jam packed into 8oz of water and chugged. (I liken it to drinking grit and can imagine it scrapping down the walls of my intestines)

The third and final step is Remove, and I take that before I go to bed. All of this promotes a mass exodus in the morning, sometimes, and more often than not, in two or more shifts. ...I guess the definition for "productive" has intensified since I last met it in a dictionary...

PMS Trail Mix, Polymer Clay, and an Oven Crankier Than I

PMS Trail Mix = semi-sweet CHOCOLATE chips and walnut halves and more CHOCOLATE chips.
Polymer Clay = semi-relaxing and semi-frustrating depending on your hormonal status at the given moment.
Cranky Oven = dynamite = problem solved = don't mess with me on my WEEK! Foo'!

Okay, there are some technicalities with my title. One, it should be MS Trail Mix, there's nothing pre-menstrual about it.

Two, the oven really isn't cranky, just toxic. I scrubbed that sucker three times to try and scrape off the caked on cleaner that sat there for a week because we thought our major appliance bit the big one after not working for nine days. Go figure. Yeah, so I'd say the oven is just fine for Sculpey projects...maybe not so bueno for food projects...yet. With all the clay baking I've been doing, I'd say all the chemicals should burn off by the time I'm done. Whoot. Oh, I guess I didn't really blow it up either even though I was sorely tempted and the explosion in my mind would have put the Fourth of July to shame. An imagination is a terrible thing to waste...

So, here I be with my laptop as my snuggling companion and a half finished dragon staring empathetically in my direction. Hmm, I'm going to give myslef more credit. My dragonling is about 80-90% done. I simply have to figure out how I'm going to manage the webbing of the wings. Cloth or clay? And how in Hades do I plan on carrying out the mechanics of that little trick? I hate being stuck. Bing! Idea! TLS!!! (Translucent Liquid Sculpey) It's about time I've actually tried to use it for something...It'll definitely be interesting. In the long run, I foresee triumph, in the short run, I predict creative expletives and explosive tempertantrums... Such is creativity.

Huh, I should probably write something witty and funny...

Nah.

Cleaning Muse

It used to be that Megan could throw herself into her chores and cleaning with a certain gusto. Lately, however, her cleaning muse seems to be dozing in a corner, collecting an impressive plethora of dust bunnies. To be perfectly honest, dust bunnies is too kind a definition. Any mother with her white glove at the ready and armed with bleach would call them dust gophers. Size notwithstanding, the tunnel system now adorning the room was bordering on the dangerous, ridiculous, and adventurous! ((And whatever other "-ous" word you can come up with.))

Upon further inspection one might assume that the young lady's cleaning muse had been drugged, perhaps by the lady herself. But that would prove to be stupid, and hazardous to your health seeing as how if the lady did slip the muse a mickey, imagine what she could do to you. Not to mention we're going to stick with the obligatory nonsense and throw in a good movie quote by stating that doping up a muse, cleaning or otherwise is, "INCONCEIVABLE!" That and it would totally mess up the plot. (As soon as we find it we'll let you know... Maybe.)

Anywho, upon an even closer inspection of the incapacitated muse ( which is another story entirely and which required an all out war with the dust gophers and five bottles of Dust-Begone ) it was discovered that the cleaning muse and the muse of dreams were twins. After much prodding to keep the poor thing awake, we managed to learn that the cleaning muse skipped town after Megan took a custodial job and abused the privelages of having a muse that actually inspires one to clean. Apparently, the muse felt that if Megan was getting paid then it too should recieve some monetary compensation. Megan made a derrogatory comment of epic proportions. ...We'll let your imagination stew over that one.

So until further notice, the position for a cleaning muse is officially open. This is an UNPAID position, so don't ask. Further inquiry on the subject of salary will result in violence, reputation, smearing and possible "disappearance". We thank you for your attention and apologize that the plot as well as the muse for which this blog was supposed to feature is MIA.

And watch out for the dust gophers on your way out. What? We didn't say we won that little war with them now did we?