Marriage and Motherhood

In some ways, I feel very different than I did this time last year. Last year, I was a girl, a student, a daughter primarily. Now I am a woman, a worker, a wife, and a mother. My person is the same, but I have stepped out of old roles and into new ones.

I haven't really talked about this transition, except with my husband and my mother, because while these new roles give me great joy they also made me feel awkward and shy, especially around around the young people I interact with. I don't feel that I've really entered the adult ranks, and yet I have most definitely left the general mass of youthdom behind.

As a wife, I've gained a great deal of love and respect for my husband that I could not have fathomed as a single person, even on the threshold of our wedding day. As a new bride, I did not know what to expect from my husband, well as I thought I knew him, and I discovered him to be a far better man than I had ever imagined he could be. His gentleness, compassion, spiritual leadership, intellectual vigor, and the strong emotional and physical support he continues to offer me are gifts I don't know how I ever managed without.

Being married is a huge positive in terms of my mental health. After we were married my stress level decreased by a subjective 80%. I have a strong feeling of security and identity that I (didn't realize that I) lacked before. Though marriage brings new responsibilities and stressors, the benefits compensate by far.

In the early months of our union, my husband and I often discussed how marriage did or did not match our expectations of what it would be like. One thing that pleasantly surprised us both is that much of the bliss of our relationship comes from mundane domestic life. In a way, marriage is not so much excitement as emotional and physical security and relaxation. It's a trust that we live in.

Now, we've got a baby to care for and look forward to. For me, this realization is another line that separates me from the child I used to be and the children with whom I used to keep company. Though we kept the secret for a while and enjoyed it between the two of us, eventually my husband and I had to make it public. With that public knowledge, I again feel shy and out of place. It as if I don't know what I am in the social circles I find myself in. At work, little has changed, and with my husband I know exactly how he regards me, but in the public eye, I am ill at ease. It's that subconscious, "Everyone is looking at me," feeling.

The physical changes in my body are no easier to share. How long does it take before people are tired of hearing me say I feel sick? How many naps are acceptable in a single day? How far can I make my wardrobe hide the gradual growth of my child?

From the time we first showed a positive test, both my husband and I have been very concerned about properly caring for this child. (Why else would I take that horrible prenatal vitamin every night). Until we had our first ultrasound at 10 weeks, it was always a question for us as to whether our child was still alive, had implanted, had developed a heartbeat, or would simply disappear in silence to our grief. When we saw our baby's heartbeat, saw him (or her) moving on the ultrasound, I couldn't help crying. I know my husband was relieved as well. We both talk to the baby, whether he can hear us yet or no, and pray for him daily.

On a spiritual level, I know that children in the womb can hear the word of God and have faith and I pray that God would grant faith to our child, and yet I will be so much more reassured when the child is baptized. Till then, I read the Bible, pray, attend church, and speculate to myself on whether the Eucharistic elements cross the placenta. (I think they do.)

This child also brings with him (or her) a new level of anxieties requiring a new level of trust in God. The baby makes me realize that with his advent I am not able to be as independent as I could be before. I need my husband more than ever, both for financial and physical support and for emotional support. If something were to happen to him, it would be difficult for me alone to raise this child in the way we plan to. I am not able anymore to control my body and it's reactions (especially to smells). I am more obviously dependent on God to make it through a work day and pray often during the shift that the nausea will not get worse or my emotions flip out in stressful patient situations. Just ignoring fatigue and finding time to eat the frequent small meals I've found helpful is a delicate balance at work.

And, as I mentioned above, I continue to be concerned about the baby's safety. I know too much, and while my womb is the safest available home for my child, it seems incredibly hostile considering everything that could go wrong. I have recurrent nightmares about miscarriage and other adverse events.

The realization that I am a mother is taking a while to really settle in, though. Apart from the ultrasound, the baby doesn't seem very real to me. I can't feel any movement yet, and my physical changes so far aren't really connected in my mind to a living human being within me. Nevertheless, I continue to hope, pray, and wait for the awkwardness of this transition to pass and for myself to find a place in the ranks of wives and mothers.

Shared Associations -- An Example from Married Life.

Friday, about 2:30pm. Hubby,in bed, still sleeping off the night shift. Wife,wanting to be close but not wake the hubby, enters with book and stretches out on the other side of the bed. Begins to read. Grows more and more amused. Chuckles sporadically.

Husband begins to stir. Wife chuckles again. Husband rolls over.
"What are you laughing at, Wife?"
"This book."
"What book is that?"
"'The Three Musketeers'"
"Who is that by?"
"Alexandre Dumas. It's full of, um, lots of sword-fighting and killing. I'm only into, like, the third chapter and I think five people have died already."
"Ohhhh." Husband chuckles and begins to sing. "'The first one he came to, he ran him through amain. And the second one he came to, he served him just the same...'"
Wife chuckles. "Exactly like that, though the others don't flee."

Thus the association is fast made between "The Three Musketeers" and the "Jolly Soldier".

Thanksgiving at Work!

It has been a very pleasant Thanksgiving Day, though I spent it at work. It was one of the best work days I've had.

To my delight, we had two nurse aides working. I'm not a slacker, but I distinctly feel that 13 patients (the most I've had alone) is too many for one aide to care for well. I am dissatisfied when I am unable (at a minimum) to thoroughly wash all of my patients and fulfill their requests. In 12 hours, one cannot thoroughly bathe 13 total care patients, pass trays, take vital signs and weights, and all the other various duties of the aide position. Personally, I think 6-7 patients per aide to be the ideal ratio for providing effective and efficient care. Hence my delight in having two aides yesterday.

In addition to the fact that I was caring for a number of patients within my ideal range, the nurses I was working with were some of my favorite nurses - nurses who are compassionate, industrious, and willing to help in whatever way necessary. My fellow aide was also of this type. I knew it would be a good day.

As if that weren't enough, there was food. Oh, yes. My co-workers had planned for a brunch and lots of pot-lucky food. So I broke my personal code and had a piece of chocolate at 8 am, only one hour into the day. The cafeteria provided a Thanksgiving brunch for workers, but I barely touched what they gave. We had better on the unit. While I covered the floor, my fellow aide cooked up blueberry pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and omelet. Some of the other nurses provided fruit trays and dip, caramel corn, fruit breads, danish, and so much more. It was almost too good to eat.

And as if that weren't enough, more than half of my patients were unusually pleasant people. I'm pretty used to the thanklessness of the job. I mean, when you're in pain and people are poking you and prodding you all over, and you can't do anything for yourself, it's understandable for you not to really be very polite or express any gratefulness to the pokers and prodders. But more than half of these patients said thank you, spoke pleasantly, and worked with me. It was so very nice! On days like these, I feel like I'm going to see a new friend every time I enter a patient's room.

When it came to baths, one of my patients was independent care, so after changing her bed, I had only to leave her with towels, washcloths, and soap. The others, were total care (except one who was partial care), but were so extremely obliging that bathing was cooperative task and not a battle. I was done with morning bathing before twelve o' clock trays and my two afternoon baths left me with plenty of time for lunch and various tasks. Vital signs and weights were finished an hour before I usually finish them giving me an opportunity to put in a Foley (urinary) catheter (I'm always ready to jump at a chance to perform sterile procedures) under the supervision of a nurse. To my relief, the task was easier than it often is and the patient tolerated it well. My duties were completed before the new shift came on, and I was able to leave just as the clock struck 7:20pm.

When I arrived home (only slightly hungry) leftovers were waiting for me and better than that, David and Karen were there playing cards. We played Rummy for a bit, then went to the barn to watch "Faith Like Potatoes". David and I were both exhausted by the time devotions were finished but then we got talking and before we knew it, 12:00 had rolled around.

Thus ended a wonderful Thanksgiving. I'll thank God for many more like it.

School. First Day Back

I think this semester will be good. I like my prof. I can see that sometimes she'll be intimidating, but she's good. Her lecture style is amazingly clear and easy to take notes with. I recorded one hour of lecture (after we used the first hour for syllabus notes) and played it back while working out. It was still enjoyable and easy to follow even on second listen.

I'll be spending a significant amount of time at the college this semester. I intend to stay at the school long enough to work out and get as much studying done as possible. Also, check email. Recreational internet has been (or is soon to be) banned at home.

I'm also trying to complete my online learning modules and tests for my work. Haha! Education they never told you you'd have to take.

Homeward bound, now.

That "I'm gonna DIE" feeling...

I just printed off my syllabi and took a look at what I have to read for the first classes.

I was struck by a distinct sinking sensation akin the words, "I'm gonna DIE..."

All my classes are taught by the same professor. This could be really good or really, really bad.

Anyhoo, just sharing the gladness.

Another New Blog

"Bedside Manners" is rudimentarily up and running. What on earth do I need another blog for? (After all, I only have 3 plus facebook already. :P ) Well, go look and see...
http://mannersforcare.blogspot.com/

Oh, my little blog.

I've dreadfully neglected my little Adiaphoron this past year, both from busyness and from a lack of time for thought. I've felt as though I haven't anything significant to say that touches not on either the highly personal or confidential. My confidence in my own knowledge and mind are declining. (At least, on most days. There's always the occasional spurt of confidence with which I do something idiotic to rue later.) I'm learning to shrug off my social accidents and awkwardness; it's not like I can do anything about spilling the drink down my dress after the fact. Sure, I can be more careful: if anything, I'm learning to be more deliberate about social moves. If I must be conspicuous, I try to choreograph the period of visibility ahead of time. At the same time, I'm tired of trying to be someone. Even trying to be who I am is challenging. (You'd think it a simple thing to be yourself, but, actually, if it is important to you to be consistent and you are a woman, being a consistent self is a constant struggle.)

I've always kept myself soothed and calmed by singing to myself. It's not a lullaby - it's a "workaby". If the song is running on, I can continue to move forward. When it stops, my wheels slow and grind to a halt. At work, I sing my day through, one song-story after another, out loud in the hall, inwardly as I bathe patients and clean up messes. When I stop singing, I'm in trouble. Truly.

When I was very, very small, it was Wee Sing Bible Songs. In early elementary, I sang patriotic songs, old Methodist hymns, kids' Bible songs, and songs from church. Middle school and highschool floated through on tunes of Michael Card and LW hymnody. My first year of college, I got to know LSB and historic Lutheran and Christian songs amid a surging tide of Hope College postmodernity and Augustine College classic Christianity. This past year, I've hit a new lode as I've nosed down the shaft of folk through a tunnel of celtic gems. There's more sadness here, to be certain, and a few wells to avoid falling into.

Speaking of work, that's a pretty new part of my life (though it seems routine to me now) that hasn't gotten much coverage on this blog. Confidentiality is partly to blame. I do like my work. If I weren't serving people whose needs (physical, emotional, and psychological) didn't demand immediate and careful attention, I'd be bored with working. But people can't sit on the shelf like paperwork, nor can one ignore them like dirty dishes. They literally scream at you.

12 hours is a long time. When I walk into the unit, I leave the rest of my life behind. It's just my patients, the nurses, therapists,aides, and doctors and me dealing with the same problems from different perspectives. I'm a valued part of the team as are all of the other members. If one of us left, the whole system of work would go up in smoke. Even though I'm relatively new, I feel like I belong and am useful - and that is nice. It's fulfilling to be needed (if only to empty a bedpan) and comforting to share something (if that something is but the challenge of getting a confused patient to eat supper).

Somedays, I feel as if I'm in a madhouse. Disoriented and demented patients are calling out without surcease and other competent patients hit the call button before you have even walked 5 steps from their door to have you rearrange the pillows yet again. On these days I constantly sing myself calm and constantly plan the next steps I must perform. When I leave, it is as if I have lost part of my life. Whatever happened that day has to stay at the hospital until I come back to it. My family and friends are totally excluded from it. And yet, my work is the most interesting and challenging (physically, psychologically, morally) part of what I do now.

I've taken back over management of the goat herd. We're selling out all but six does and the buck. I'm keeping them dry until school gets out next year, so hopefully I can get by with only daily chores. It's been hard letting some of the girls go. I've shed tears.

There's more I would say, but I cannot and if I could, time would not permit now. Dear reader, farewell and Godspeed where'er ye be.

Selling Goats.

This is not really relevant to this blog, but if you are interested in purchasing goats (not that any of my blog readers would be), please visit goats-for-sale.blogspot.com

Thanks, people. Hope to have something of substance soon.

Sizzling Summer...Stuff.

So, after a week of sleeping in till 8am EVERY SINGLE GORGEOUS MORNING and wrapping up my affairs from the past year (money = ouch), I’m preparing to launch a new summer routine next week. This summer will be unlike any summer I’ve had yet. I suppose one could say that about every summer, but some summers are more alike than others. What’s new about this summer? I’m going to be taking classes and working a real honest-to-goodness job for real pay. Both are bran-new experiences for me.

I’m also trying to establish a routine for myself. I’ve found I need structure (this is why I pay people to teach me things that are written in books and keep me accountable in learning material). It’ll be a sort of “Liturgy of Life”, if you will, in which I order my days to include regular prayer and Scripture, exercise, sleep, study, reading, and song. Until now I’ve had only spasms of structure in my routine of trying to hap-hazardly crunch everything I need to do into my days and finding at the end of the day that exhaustion extinguishes other interests.

So, here are some goals for the summer.

Daily Readings every day. Compline every night.
Success in Microbiology. (my scale and grade scale)
Work as much as possible (goal of a minimum of 3 days a week).
Learn one new folk song every week. A cappella. Lyrics and melody memorized.
Workout MTW 1 hour &30 minutes minimum. Walk/Bicycle 30 minutes -1 hour per day HFSS.
Read good books and write papers and blog posts for pleasure. (Vague, I know.)


About my job:
I’m a nurse technician. Basically, that means I’m a nurse assistant with a few more skills and responsibilities. I can bathe patients, change their linens, feed them meals, take vital signs, help them walk, help them toilet, bring them things, turn them, check I.V. lines, empty catheters and drains, do basic assessments. I’m hoping to be able to give tube feedings, change dressings, put in catheters, take out I.V. s, do naso/oral-pharangeal suction, etc as well. I don’t know yet how much of these nursing type responsibilities I’ll have. My hours are “Relief” type. I’m told that that means I can work as much as I want whenever they need me. The shifts are 12 hours long. From 7am to 7pm and vice versa. The facility is a Long Term Acute Care Hospital: patients come here when they’ve outstayed their time in the hospital, but the nursing home isn’t the right place for them either. There’s a big focus on rehabilitation, at least from what I saw when I did my geriatrics rotation there. We want to get the patients to the point where they can go home. It’ll be great.

About my summer schooling:
I’m taking a Microbiology course three days a week and Voice lessons for an hour a week. It’s 6 credits in all, I think, but that still sounds like a good breather from the RN program. I’ll be able to use the internet while I’m at school so I’ll spend some time expanding my song repertoire in the afternoon of school days with the help of youtube.

Speaking of songs, I’m beginning a systematic effort to put together a collection of celtic folkish songs singable by me unaccompanied. So far, here’s a few I have memorized and can do decently. More to come. There’s plenty on the back burner that need some work on lyrics or melody. (One familiar with the Corries will guess my attraction of late.)

Loch Lomond – both versions
A Parcel of Rogues (Burns)
Scots Wha’ Hae (Burns)
The Trees They Grow So High
The Streets of Derry
The Water is Wide
The Rose of Allendale
Grace
Treat Me Daughter Kindly
Wild Mountain Thyme
Westering Home
Come O’er the Stream, Charlie
I Will Go
The Skye Boat Song

I get a Job and Mr. Stinky gets in a Tight Spot

Here's a newsy post since philosophy has gone out the dormer aperture since school began.

Today I slept in to the positively sinful hour of 9am (during the last hour of which I was mostly lounging, not sleeping), then studied Pharm (acology) for a couple of hours. After lunch, I ran over to the college, delivered pecan rolls from Snap to a professor, turned in an overdue ILL movie which I hadn't had a chance to watch, paid for classes, and unsuccessfully checked "lost and found" for a jean jacket. (Parenthetical note: I am quite distressed by the loss. The jacket was one of my trusty prime pieces of wear, and I had developed an attachment to it.)

Then I drove like a maniac to a job appointment. Yes, it was "processing" day for me. In the space of three hours, I was sent to four different facilities. First I proved my identity, signed papers, and got fingerprinted at the recruitment office. Then I was sent to the hospital for review of my vaccination history and Tuberculosis skin test. Following this, I got slightly lost on my way to a physician's clinic for a nursing home physical, but I finally found the place. As if this weren't enough already, I zipped over to the medical system's outpatient facility to get blood drawn for a Hepatitis B immunity test.

When I got home I took Fenella for a walk/run/get-the-dog-wrapped-around-trees expedition. Then Daddy and Snap and I ate supper (the rest were awa') and cleaned up a bit. While clearing the table, I happened to look out the window at the pasture which is currently littered with log piles. Between two of the logs stood Mr. Stinky (alias "Lightening", our Boer sire), unmoving except for his head, his belly bulged up on top of the logs. I couldn't help laughing. He apparently had either jumped on top of the pile and slipped in between or had walked in at the wide end of the gap and, pinched at the narrow end, couldn't figure out how to back out. Snap and I called Dad and laughingly suggested that he try pushing Mr. Stinky out. Dad thought it would be better to loose Fenella in the pasture to, uh, stimulate Mr. Stinky's self-preserving instincts. At the end of the matter, all it took was Dad rolling the log half a turn to release the compressed bucky.
He didn't learn anything from the experience - 10 minutes later, Snap pointed out the window. Mr. Stinky was sitting atop another log.

Anyhoo...that's been my day. Let's see if I can find the momentum to study more Pharm. Nih.

Cougar!

This morning on the way to school Snap and I saw a cougar. At least, we think we did.

We came up over a rise and an animal dashed across the road in front of us on four legs. It stood about 3 feet or so at the shoulder and had pointed ears and a long tail. At first I thought it was a deer - but it wasn't. Then I thought it was a coyote, but it was too big and ran like a cat.

There have been cougar prints sited in this area, but nobody has actually seen the cougar yet, so we feel very fortunate.

Cougar!

Milk Bank and Rambles

Announcing a new post over at Γραφω. It's an observation paper about the Bronson Breast-milk Bank. If you want to be added to the readers, drop me a comment or email.

I'm excited about finally posting something new over on "I Write". I haven't been lazy in writing, but so much of what I write in Nursing School includes confidential patient information that only I and my instructors can see outside of the doctors and nurses at the hospital. That's a downside of nursing that I think I'll always struggle with: I learn and experience so much that changes me and my thinking during my clinical work, but I am not legally able to discuss these experiences except in the vaguest terms with my dear friends outside of my work and study.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to holding more babies tomorrow in my clinical work, maybe see a delivery. Lent's coming to a climax and Holy Week will be refreshing as always. Seder with family and some friends tomorrow. Excited for that - matzoh, horseradish, and all. One day at a time I'll make it through the semester, by God's grace.

Head Stuck in the Sand, but Still Kickin'

My dear reader,

It's been so long since I've really written a blog post. Yes, I've written little snippets, but nothing really requiring serious time or thought. But this is not a complaint post.

I feel as if my head is stuck in the sand and I just can't clear my ears, eyes, or mouth. Nursing school will certainly "lairn" the stuffing out of me, but in the meantime, I haven't much of a clear idea about what is going on in the world, in my family, or even in me. I'd like to emerge from the sand sometime in the near future, but I doubt it'll be during this short spring break. Likely it'll be May before I really start to blink my eyes, shake out my ears, spit the gunk out of my mouth and ask myself, "who am I and what has happened to my world since last August?"

Meanwhile, I'm going back to Pharmacology studying and rather ill-fated attempts at not being selfish.

- TQ

Drill for the Semester

I really hoped it wouldn't be this way. But it is. I'm going to have to give some things up.

I didn't want it to be church. But it's an hour travel time either way, 3 times a week. I've just got to come to terms with it: I'd be prudent to cut out midweek services. I'm running myself into the ground, and it hasn't even been a full week since school started.

Here's how the week looks.
Monday, get up at 4am, go to the hospital, work clinical till 2:30 or 3:30, home between 3pm and 4pm. Write up Nursing Process Papers on each patient till time to sleep. (around 10pm) Supper, shower, and devotions in there of course.

Tuesday, get up at 6:15am, pick up carpoolers, drive to school. Pharmacology 8am to 10am. Med-Surg Theory 10:30am to 12:30pm. View assigned audiovisual materials. Try to work out and study at the same time. Voice lesson from 3pm to 4pm. Go home, read my brains out till I go to sleep.

Wednesday, same routine, only without the Voice Lesson.

Thursday, catch up on Pharmacology and Med-Surg Reading. Finish Care Plans and Clinical paperwork. Read assignments for Clinical Sleep.

Friday, up at 4am again. Same drill as Monday.

Saturday, try desperately to read assignments for coming week's Pharmacology, Clinical, Med-Surg Theory, finish clinical paperwork

Sunday, go to church, finish clinical paperwork. Bury my head in my books. Try to sleep.

Pass Go, collect grades, stool specimens, bloodied paperwork by the pen of the preceptor.

Not sure where I'm going to fit in the hour and a half of voice practice in there.

My posts have greatly deteriorated, however, I have no time for anything more literary.
Goodnight. Peace to you, dear reader.

Out of My Ken

Dear Reader,

I have a sad state of affairs to report. The girl who is ignorant of fashion, clothing names, and ettiquette will be attending a wedding where the dress code is "day formal." Advised by the bride that this should be in the area of "Christmas Sunday Best" and "less formal than evening", she is still very uncertain.

The authority on fashion whom I most respect has interpreted "day formal" to indicate an "afternoon dress", "tea gown", or "dinner dress". Google is not helping me visualize these very well. What I have gleaned of info merely tells me (I think?) that there ought to be a close-fitting bodice with a flowing skirt (and maybe a train?), that there should be gloves worn (?) and some other variable and frighteningly incomprehensible bits about gloves and things.

I'll admit I'm very intimidated. I've never owned a pair of dress gloves in my life, nor am I at all familiar with what fashionable clothing called by it's proper name actually looks like. I know work-wear like Carharts, overalls, steel-toe boots - ya know, functional clothing.

This is a constant problem for me whenever I step outside the borders of hill-billy land and college-student kingdom. I never know what is appropriate wear nor how to fit my current wardrobe to meet expected standards. I consistently find myself (by my own observation and comparison of my attire to those around me) overdressed or underdressed for the occasion - or simply dressed very differently. I'm not terribly concerned about conformity, but I do like to not draw attention to myself in social settings where there is an established expectation.

Therefore, I want to ask some very dumb, very specific questions:

Do I need to obtain gloves? What sort?

Do I need a hat? What material? What style? What color?

Is a particular sort of shoes required? What sort/color/build?

What does the proper dress look like?

Grateful for any light on the topic,
TQ

The Day You Quit Crying.

Yesterday morning I participated in a medical emergency. To be honest, I started the process. I didn't like how the patient was acting and breathing. I called the nurse, and within a few minutes all sorts of things were happening. We ended up sending the patient out to ER. While we were working, I was calm - likely because I was doing something to help, be it as little as holding the patient's hand or shoulder. After it was out of our hands and I reported to my instructor however, I found Nicole in a supply room and cried on her shoulder. The respiratory therapist saw me and I stopped.

Later that day he found me to show me labs from the ER. After explaining what had happened with the patient, he said something I'll never forget.

"What you did in the backroom is a good thing. Crying means you'll be a good nurse."
"Why?" I said.
"Because it means you care. The day you quit crying is the day you need to quit the job."

When I had awakened yesterday morning, one line of a song had been running though my head and refused to leave me all day.
But since it falls unto my lot
that I should go and ye should not
I gently rise and softly call
Goodnight and joy be with you all!

It's Time to Go Home

When your 1st metacarpal-phalange joint is swollen, red, and too tender to move, you know it's time to stop studying and go home.

And when you call the thumb joint by it's anatomical name, it's time for a full night's sleep.

Slightly lonely and subconsciously fatigued,
TQ

Because I am an Epistemophiliac...

Reader,

I crave this book. I found it in the library yesterday and it is amazing:

Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary of Unusual, Obscure, and Preposterous Words.

From this book, my friend and I learned yesterday that we are both "epistemophiliacs" and have since used that word rather randomly.

Is rediscovering her love for words and language, philosophy and debate. ARG.

Revelation

I just had a revelation. I have a whole 6 hours until 12 pm. A whole 6 hours I can use to finish a nutrition project! What ho! The wonder o' it.

Let's get 'er done.

B-day

Last evening through today have together composed the nicest birthday I think I have ever had. Simple, no fanfare, relaxing, are effective descripters. I did what I wanted to do.

Last night I came home to a nice, homecooked stirfry complete with vegetables, mushrooms, and onions. Instead of cake, we had apple pie at my request. Mom even bought cider. It was a very cozy meal - just the family, nothing elaborate. After dinner I received a few gifts - beautiful writing from my youngest sister, a CD of Handel's Messiah from my Grandparents, and a cell phone from my parents. Best of all, Dad brought out the guitar. He hasn't played since...I don't know when - probably at least a year. We drug out the old "Word of God" community song books and sang the beautiful charismatic semi-liturgical songs I used to love as a wee lass. The Te Deum setting in Daddy's book is still one of my favorite songs.

Instead of going to sleep or forcing homework down my gullet or even socializing online, I took up a book - the first fiction book I've cracked this semester. George MacDonald regaled me with his narrative of "wee Sir Gibbie" till nigh on 1:30am. It was delightfully satisfying and seemed a combination of several styles of writing I've appreciated in the past. The young, dumb, gentle-hearted orphan overcomes the odds with simplicity and forgiveness, wins the maiden, and in poetic justice inherits the house of his forbears, all in (relative) Scottish dialect.

The day of me birth I spent wi' me ain bonnie lad and some other friends. I would not have had the day any other way. It was relaxing, low key, and not "me focused" at all. I may safely say that in all my -- years, I've had ne'er a more pleasant birthday, nor received it sae gratefully as a day of rest.

Sunday Night's Addition: A note on the makeup. I'm going off of it. I've been wearing it off and on for the past week and a half because of acne severity. I hate acne: I hate the blotches on my face. I also abhore a mask, particularly clay, especially clay connected by association with coquettish behaviors. But I put it on because I hated the unnatural physiologic more than the unnatural cosmetic. Tomorrow, however, I'm done. I will not be ashamed of my face. If it causes unpleasantness to others, I will hide it again, but not till then.

Goodnight, dear reader. Tomorrow I begin my clinical work in Geriatrics. I don't have to get up at 4am, but I do need to rise at 5, and hence I shall now turn in. Here ends another post with no particularly deep point.