This week the flu bug struck at our house. Now when most people say that, there follows a story about kids and husband getting sick and then mum getting sick while caring for all of them. I am thankful every day that I fell in love with a man with the constitution of an ox. Seriously. A few months ago, he was feeling tired and a little listless in the evening. I asked what he wanted to eat and he told me he had no appetite. Coming from a man who usually eats three helpings at dinner and then sometimes still has to make himself a pot of oatmeal to stave off "The Hunger" at 8 pm, I was worried. "I must be getting sick." he told me. In my frame of reference, getting sick means feeling like garbage for several days, trying and sometimes not succeeding to get into work, sleeping and dosing myself with copious amounts of vitamin C. Needless to say, Benjamin woke up the next morning raring to go and feeling perfectly fine. "That's about as sick as I ever get." he told me.
As someone with the immune system of a flea (please don't ruin this analogy by telling me that fleas are remarkably hardy or something) I was a tad jealous. Let's just say that I get sick more than a previous roommate of mine, and she was a preschool teacher. If something is going around, I'd better batten down the hatches, because I'll probably have it within 48 hours.
This week, I came down with the flu all of a sudden on Wednesday morning. Thank goodness for a company that lets me log in and work from home, otherwise my entire floor probably would have my bug by now - except for the guy who sits a few cubicles away, who I suspect was the one who gave it to me (shaking my fist in his general direction). After one day of complete misery, one day of alternating napping and working on Information Documents from my laptop, I returned to work Friday. I was well enough for work and for a ton of errands Saturday, until we went to chaperone the youth dance. After several futile attempts to convince girls that leggings are actually not pants and having to explain to two very angry mothers why their daughters were not allowed in the dance in their current attire, my voice was completely gone. So far today I have been speaking almost entirely in whispers, and not by choice.
Next time I start to feel better, can someone remind me of my current predicament and convince me not to extend the flu for several days by attending a youth dance? Much appreciated. Now, off to take some more vitamin C. Daddy will be so proud.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
I grew up with a sewing machine in the house. My mum was a handy lady who sewed her own curtains and lots of our clothes. Once I was old enough, I was also sent over to my Grannie's to learn to quilt. I've loved making little projects here and there, being able to mend things, and I especially loved sewing a few details for our wedding last February (that's right - Ben's tie and my jacket were just a few things that I whipped up during my two jobless months leading up to the wedding). Of course, any sewing I wanted to do necessitated a trip to my sister's house on the other side of the city or my mum's house, provided she had the church sewing machine signed out form the library. As fun as it was to squeeze projects into a day at someone else's house, I really wanted a sewing machine of my own. This desire was magnified after a trip to Spokane where I visited Jo-Ann's, which I have decided is pretty much the best fabric store ever.
I started to look online for sewing machines and because I didn't want to spend much, I was looking at Brother machines from Project Runway, which seemed to be a pretty good deal. The only problem was the shipping. My Mum and sister suggested that I go to Sewing World on Crowchild Trail to see what they had available. I promised Benjamin that I'd just look around, see what they had, then I'd come home and read reviews and compare prices online.
Imagine my excitement when they had a Baby Lock machine with even more features than the Brother I had been looking at online, on sale for about the same price I would have paid for the Brother with shipping. Not only that, but the Baby Lock is a way better quality machine (according to the friendly saleslady).
After a thirty-second call to Benjamin to let him know that I was coming home with a machine that very day, I was headed home with my brand new Baby Lock.
Thank goodness for supportive husbands.