I can't think of anything to write about. My life often just jumps into the deep pools and swirls of homeschooldom and motherhood. Someone whines, I have to be firm. Someone cries, I have to console. Someone yells, I have to scold. I did not consume enough calories today so I took the kids to the library and felt faint the whole time. I would dread stooping down because when I would get back up I would see lights in my eyes and birds fluttering here and there. I have been diagnosed with hypoglycemia but I do not eat the right way (absolutely no sugar of any sort---pretty Atkins). I try to eat better, but I am also allergic to raw stuff so I don't get enough fiber. So, pretty much to make things more clear, I am up the creek.
You know, whenever I drink red wine I get a little red myself. I am probably allergic to the sulfites in it. I hate allergies. I hate saying I am allergic to anything. It is embarrassing. It is like wearing a sign around my neck proclaiming that "I am special". I can't stand the word "special".
So, speaking of red wine----I love the stuff you know. And yes, truly the last time I ever got drunk (I think drunkenness is a sin) was when I got alcohol poisoning after drinking a whole half bottle (one of the huge ones) of Smirnoffs. I was laid up for two weeks throwing up and thoroughly ill. I remember laying in the backseat of my boyfriend's car rolling around in misery. The whole time I was drunk I remember saying, "Is my tongue black?" What an idiot I was. Well, I am still sort of idiotic. BUT--that truly was the last time I got drunk. Well, actually, one of the only two times I ever did. So, every time I sip from my glass of wine I look at the glass. I HATE the little dribble of wetness my lips leave after I take a little draught. It literally makes my stomach churn. I asked a friend once what she does to the little dribble when she sees it.
"Oh, I just wipe it off with my finger!" she said, laughing.
"That's sort of sick," I say. "Who knows what is on your finger when you wipe it and then there goes the glass straight to your mouth again!" I felt a little queasy thinking about it.
"Why? What do you do?" She wondered.
"I take my napkin and wipe it like this," I said. I proceeded to show her exactly how I wipe the rim of the glass, producing a shiny clean area once again. Sort of like a priest. I continued, "It's the holy way."
She laughed in my face. "Only you would come up with that!"
I have to eat with particular utensils too. It is bad enough that I have to stick metal in my mouth, but I am used to it. I just can't use certain ones. If I am at someone's house and they have utensils that I think are ugly and wrong looking, I have to try my best to ignore it. I admit that no one else has these issues mentally, but I have to still live with this.
We were at the Smithsonian this past weekend (the National Portrait Gallery) and I had to skip the coin section. Yeah, they have ancient coins that most people would enjoy looking at but I had to walk right through and try not to look if I did not want to lose my appetite for a week.
A couple of years ago one of my kids (it was the girl or Eraser Eater, I can't remember) came to me sucking on something. It was a number of pennies (I shouldn't write this, it is making me ill)---I started screaming and I somehow got them out of the child's mouth and went to the bathroom and gagged in the toilet for a spell. Good way to turn me into a bulemic.