I woke up feeling awful. My stomach is bugging me. I was all motivated to go to the Y alone because Kari Coffee was ditching me and I felt really bad. So I decided to sleep a bit more. I ate something healthy and still don't feel great. I have to leave for a doctor's appointment in a few minutes and am not sure what I will do after that. A sick day is something I don't take often because I simply have too much to do to be sick.
if you think of it, you may want to pray for Ricardo today if you are a praying person. He is months away from 18 and has always idolized the guys who have moved out of our house, unemployed, the couch surf and mooch off other people. I'm worried he is heading in that direction. He quit soccer last night without telling us, went to someone's house without us knowing where he was, came home and refused to do his chore or dishes -- which is very unusual for him. He apparently didn't get up this morning and ended up walking to school -- if he made it there. He is skipping classes and heading down the wrong path here.
The challenge is that he is a very very naive kid who has NO CLUE how the world works. He was in orphanages until he was 10 and since he has been here has done very little outside of our home and the home of one of his friends. He doesn't have any idea what it means to have a job or what it costs to live on ones own. He will be biologically 18 but as far as knowledge of the world he is about 5.
He may have to learn the hard way because he is a very stubborn kid. So maybe I should be asking you to pray for me that I can endure yet another round of watching a teen make horrible mistakes and not be able to do much about it.
OK. Now I'm off to the doctor to get my INR checked. If you are new to my blog and have never read about my hospital stay in Feb of 2010 when I had blood clots, you might want to do that for a good laugh. This particular post is a photo essay that I dictated to Kari from my hospital bed.
Memories.... light the corners of my mind....
not to be confused with Mammories, which I had chopped of in a breast reduction in 2003, before I started blogging, which is really too bad because I was rejoicing that when I projectile vomited it hit my feet instead of my boobs for the first time since I was 21.
And the above paragraph is proof that this blog is not intended for publicity or promotional purposes of my writing career.