*blush*

I am so embarrassed. First, thank you for all of your sweet words and encouragement to sleep. I think I'm nearly caught up now. :) But last night I had a migraine and my stomach hurt, so I thought maybe I was sick. There's something like it going around at work, and it's not pretty. But, um, it's not that. May I 'splain?

The migraine is a hormonal thing, though I always forget they're going to hit. You'd think, after more than 15 years, I'd have this figured out. But they shift their timing, keeping me on my toes, occasionally not striking at all. I'm grateful they only come once a month, and that Excedrin keeps them at bay. The migraine is now under control.

The stomach thing? Had me worried. It wasn't cramps or nausea, but sharp pains. Not all the time, but often enough, right across the middle of my stomach. Like someone sticking a knife into me. Ow. Quit it. Initially I thought I was hungry, but food helped not at all. Dang it. After trying food, I ... well, I'm a delicate flower and won't go into detail. Suffice it to say that nothing I tried was working. Add to that the pain in the head and neck, I thought maybe I was dying. Hey! I'm a delicate flower, already.

It wasn't till bedtime that I figured out the source of the pain. Lying in bed, trying to get comfortable, I scooched up on the bed to keep my head pressed against the headboard (some nights I like the balls of my feet touching the foot board instead - so shoot me). Scooching up, sharp pain shot through my stomach. It hit me like a ton of bricks - it was all Maybelline's fault!

See, the night before last I was wanting to finish a REALLY good book. I was right near the end. Y'all ever hear of Mary Stewart? I was near the end of The Hollow Hills, second in the Merlin trilogy. I read them in high school, but felt the need to revisit them and haven't been one bit sorry. Well written.

Oh, so I'm near the end of this book, just wanting to stay home and read, and Maybelline is heading off with a friend and asks me to come with. She and this friend are going to the friend's house to do Ball. The Evil Ball. This friend even gave Maybelline an Evil Ball for her birthday in May. And so far I'd been very successful at avoiding the Evil Ball. And I planned to continue in my avoidance. But Maybelline begged and begged. Do you know what it's like to have a 15 year old girl beg her mother to do something with her, something she enjoys? I guess I keep to myself quite a bit, because I get begged more and more. I draw the line at the mall. I don't care if all roads lead to the mall. I stop short.

Where was I? Oh! The Evil Ball! I agreed to go with Maybelline's to this friend's house and do Ball, taking my book, just in case. You know. Because I'd heard all sorts of stories about the Evil Ball. Just stop already, then. But nooooo. They do Ball.

For an idea of what we were doing, you may click here and click on the watch a clip. (It's not the same woman, but similar) It really seemed very simple and painless. I was able to keep up the entire time, not feeling horribly awkward, but I stopped halfway through the video. When asked why, I said that I knew I'd be feeling it the next day and was not a masochist, even if the Ball lady was a sadist.

Guess what? I felt it. And didn't even know it. The act of scooching up caused me to tighten my stomach muscles, reminding them of the torture the night before. Ow. And now here I am, claiming to be dying, feeling like a fool. So that's my story. Horribly embarrassing. Lesson learned? Stay away from the Evil Ball. Any more lessons I should take from this? Please tell me.

Until I write again ...

Flea