Goodness gracious sakes alive.
I can't wait until I feel well enough to tell you all that's been transpiring around here.
I met the grandson of the man that built this house.
I have his photo - he stopped by here on Monday, and there's such a story to tell.
He's 86, named Clarence.
Aaron twisted his ankle on a curb in Chicago, and is in an air cast and on crutches, but still went to school today - he's such a rock star. I hope he gets good sympathy tips today.
He told me 'I have to go! I have appointments!'.
Love. him. to. death.
I need to tell you the story of the mysterious demise of Stubbs and the Vietnamese woman.
But first, and foremost - I'm going to ask you to pray for my friend's son.
I met Mirjana through this blog - she's a local reader.
She's battling for her life as well - the blasted C word.
Her son is presently in the ICU, fighting for his life.
Please pray. Pray hard.
For both of them.
His name is David.
And while you have His attention - say a prayer for me as well.
I've been bedridden since, diarrhea, and I'm absolutely unable to move my head the slightest bit without my whole world spinning. I'm crying a lot on and off. I'm presently parked on the front porch with my legs up - Glen's waiting on me hand and hoof, and I'm just reading up all of my library books, enjoying the breeze. If this clanging in my head would just stop - it's as if someone is holding a staple gun up to my noggin and shooting blanks on it every few seconds. My ears are ringing so loudly that it's maddening!
I'm on day three of absolutely no Effexor in my body.
If by Monday, I'm not better - I'm going to go to the Dr. and get the Prozac to do the 'Prozac Bridge' that I've been reading about on forums.
This too shall pass.