... largely because there was some television show on that, with its EVILE hypnotic rays (muahahaaa), made it impossible for us to LEAVE to go pick up prescriptions at 7:00 p.m. when the automated prefill line promised they'd be done. But ya know what? When you go on time, they're never ready anyway. They just want to get you in there and make you wait ten or fifteen minutes so you'll wander the aisles and buy a bunch of crappedy crap, and suckers like we are only too happy to oblige. Erik tried to talk me into one of those weekly pill keepers. The kind little old people have, you know, that have all the compartments for S M T W T F S? I reminded him that I already have one that I don't use.

Okay, okay, okay. I will use it. Starting Sunday. I have a pretty good pill-taking system now, but maybe this will help knock out the uncertainty and make everyone else feel better.

Starting ON Sunday, I'm going to stop complaining that I can't drive for six months following a seizure in Texas (because they keep happening) and just look forward to the day I might get behind the wheel of my truck again.

Starting Sunday, I'm going to relax a little bit and chill out and nap in the afternoons. If there isn't anything to clean.

Starting Sunday, I'm gonna be nicer. And not feel so wounded by people who Obviously Don't Know Who I Am.

Starting Sunday, I will make sure all the dishes are out of the sink and put away before I go to bed at night.

Starting Sunday, I will read my Bible more.

Ouch. Owie. Ow.

I hate that this is hurting so bad, but I think I am developing carpal tunnel or something from that wasp sting. And I'm so mad that I'm hurting badly enough that I gotta complain about something and I'm not even unconscious. Ugghhrrr.

And that doesn't even make sense. But I can barely do anything with my right hand. The fact that I already can't do a lot with my left hand makes this darn unHANDY.

Yes, I put in a call to my PCP to let him know the numb pain I've had since the shot he gave me in the arm last week to calm down the Total Arm Wrist-to-Armpit Wasp Reaction.

I need to be able to control everything with my mind and voice.

We made this mountain of food. This is the Celebratory Li-And-Bill-Are-Engaged-Finally-After-Four-Years-Of-Discussing-It! Barbecue. Anthony ran around with the dog in the backyard, the guys got to be guys, and Lisa and I discussed dresses and the Pampered Chef Bridal Registry.

I am so happy for them. Seriously, after four years, she just up and asked him. He had already had a custom diamond ring made, with gold melted down from pieces of his mother's jewelry and his grandmother's diamond, and he had a plan. But after four years, who knew when that plan would come to fruition? She took the bull by the horns. They've been a family since Day One.

Erik told me after two weeks of dating that he wanted to ask my parents for my hand in marriage (Well, actually, at that point this little old French woman asked him when we were getting married). People just move at a different pace.

We were walking the dog two nights ago, as Lucky was making her rounds,loving on all the neighborhood children. While we stopped to chat with the Sanderses, a block away (mind you, I used to work with Jennifer, and she is the one with whom I was having lunch at a Chinese restaurant one day, 3 1/2 years ago, who told me I should go out with Erik, because he was sweet for always bringing me flowers to my desk, etc...) when a bee or a wasp or a small bat or whatever it was came out of nowhere and latched onto my arm!

I shook free of the the attacker and we said our goodnightsand hurried home to get ice cubes and Benadryl. Now, I have never been stung by a bee before, so I don't know if it should itch/hurt this much three days later. I think if I was allergic, I'd be dead, right?

Puh. Enough with it, then.

In my mind, if there's a problem and I'm conscious, I don't go to the doctor, I just call my parentals. I'm not waiting for four hours in some ER or urgent care clinic only to be told what my dad will tell me for free. He doles out that kind of info all the time. I figure, at least the Killer Sasquatch Bee got me instead of two-year-old Juliana.

Awww.

...And I loved deeper, and I spoke sweeter, and I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin'...

I have had that winning feeling many times, and it hasn't always been a contest. I just really like to do well, personally. But yes, I have many Firsts, Seconds, and Thirds under my belt. Everything we do is because of something else, so I'm going to attribute that to the McLean County Spelling Bee when I was eight.

My teacher selected me as one of the best spellers to go and represent our class. I wasn't going to let her down. And I wasn't about to let me down. I didn't care how any of those other kids placed, I just needed to do well. I even remember my Little House on the Prairie outfit I wore that day.

Made it to the semi-final round. Then the FINAL final round. The woman (I am pretty sure she was from Underwood) reading the words mispronounced "SPLENDED."

So that's how I spelled it.

And you can be darn sure that ever since, I have tried to not let myself fail at things because of other people's mispronunciations. There's a spelling bee movie coming out this month, and I hope it brings healing.

For further illustration, have you ever heard a small child pronounce "milk" by saying, "MELK"? It's probably not that Underwood woman's fault that she has that deep accent. I just truly believe in my heart that if you're going to run a Spelling Bee and influence the lives of kids, then pick someone to read the words who at least has buried their local dialect. Maybe a radio or television personality. Or a high school student in the speech and debate program. Yah sure, dontcha know.

Now, coming from North Dakota, relearning to talk by Charolette, my beloved most Texas-y Texas-Tawkin' speech therapist there is, and moved to New Jersey a year later, then back to Texas. And I can STILL spell S-P-L-E-N-D-I-D without a weird accent.

Yowza! That was an exciting trip to the San Antonio Medical Center! Dr. B is wonderful, and I know he's a mere human, but I feel better just seeing him. More to follow.

Petit Mal and tremors are countless. I have an MRI and we see Dr. B tomorrow. I'm sure everything is fine and I just need to go on a stress-reducing vacation every three or four months, even a short soul-renewing jaunt to the Minneapolis or Fargo area every once in a while.

Please pray for my beloved NDSU dormmate Tanya's family right now. Today is a rough day.

A lot of folks have been having those lately.