Posts tagged: Notes On A Napkin
I feel like a character in a scifi horror movie. Namely, the one who comes back from a routine jaunt on the surface of an alien planet feeling fine and dandy, only to realize hours later that she has been somehow mysteriously mutated by alien DNA or impregnated with a terrifying little pod baby. After two courses of antibiotics for a sinus infection, I am still having pressure headaches in my face and head most of the day (worse at night). … At any rate, we’re at the part of the movie where the audience finally finds out what’s going on. At least I hope we are. Dr. B scheduled me for a CT scan of my sinuses today/Katrina, Notes on a Napkin. More here.
Question: Have you ever had a CT scan? Did you feel claustrophobic?
Paul and I had been married for a glorious eleven days before we had our first big fight. It was over something silly, of course, but it didn’t seem like it at the time. I felt like all our future happiness and self-respect was hanging in the balance, teetering on the outcome of our fireworks. There was a great deal of shouting, a little theatrical crying, a dramatic exit, and a stony silent treatment that would have made Clara Bow proud. Thankfully, it didn’t last long. Within an hour, the clouds had blown over. Our newlywed hearts went predictably mushy, and we approached each other sheepishly, full of regrets and apologies, ready to work out an adult solution to our impasse. And from that day to this, we’ve never had another argument. Okay, okay. If you’re married, you already know that last line is laughably untrue/Katrina, Notes On A Napkin. More here.
Question: Can you remember one of your first fights with your mate after exchanging vows?
After five months of inexplicable good health, I finally caught the Kindergarten Krud. In a room full of kids just learning the ins and outs of nose-blowing and hand-washing, germs abound. Today, for example, I caught one of my students using a Kleenex she had just sneezed in to “wash” her desk. Though I instantly cordoned off the area and hosed it down with hand sanitizer, it made me wonder how many other incidents of inadvertent plague-spreading escape my notice every day. Kindergarten is a place for hugs and hand-holding and sharing snacks and trading pencils. It’s also a place where germs meet, fall in love, and have millions of offspring–a roiling, boiling kettle of bacterial diversity. Apparently, my very robust immune system has met its microscopic match/Katrina, Notes On A Napkin. More here.
Question: Have you been sick this winter? When? How long? How often?
In the stands, I was tense. Not for the outcome, which didn’t concern me so much, but for Katie’s feelings. Part of her struggle with Asperger’s is an occasional inability to cope with strong emotions, and I was afraid of how she would handle the losing part of competition. Would she be overwhelmed and burst into tears of disappointment? Or would she bear up with stoic seriousness until the round was over? Although I had tried my best beforehand to prepare her for the possibility, I held my breath every time she stood to spell/Katrina, Notes On A Napkin. More here.
Question: Can you relate a time when you were very proud of your child?