health condition in the red zone

I would like to mention that I have once again caught a cold. I can see Annie shaking her head in amusement right now. Oh no, no, no--not that she relishes the thought of me being sick. But, well...it's more of an inside joke. So, don't ask. They never are quite as funny when you have to explain them to curious people.

Although, this time this 'cold' has taken a downward spiraling path and turned into Strep, a sinus infection and a lower respiratory infection. So, overall I'm not feeling so swell. It's been one miserable ride. Especially since I had to miss my first day of classes, had to have two shots, take a crushed up pill and feel like I'm going to fall over from pure exhaustion and bodily weakness.

But, "It could be worse." Much worse.

Other than that.
I'm hanging in there.

How are you?
and yes, please--spare no details.

'Wicked'

Each of the attendees of Amanda's surprise birthday party were politely requested to wear a costume imitating that of a Broadway character. Originally I was against dressing up because I felt rather lazy.

But, then the idea struck me as exciting.

and about two hours before the party began Sarah helped me whip up a costume.

I like to dress-up on occasion. This time was no exception. After the last green touch of pencil I got in my car, drove to the party and enjoyed myself as the witch from 'wicked'.

On the way over at the first red light I was next to an eighteen wheeler. This was good because no one could see my green face. I escaped causing anyone to have a heart attack or anything of such lethality. At the second red light I wasn't so fortunate...

so, when the people in the surrounding cars looked over--I waved.

Better a happy green-faced person then a mean one. Although, I must admit--I thought it would be rather humorous to do the ole' smash your face up against the window and smear it down trick. I would have loved to see the reactions.

Is that you?

Sometimes I wish I had straight hair.

Chaotic Rhythm?

Recently I've been observing how much noise there is everywhere.

...there is noise...

...at where I work. I've been recruited to the kitchen ever since my potential of being a star salad maker, wrap wrapper, brownie breaker, coleslaw cupper...etc, was discovered. Apparently country music is the prized sound to be heard in the kitchen. My manager turns it up real loud and occasionally can be heard singing to it. I never really liked country before. But, now I like it even less.
Everyday I stand back there wondering "didn't they play this song ten times all ready? Why doesn't Billy Bob stop drinking, shoot that country woman, and stop singin' about how they were just a kid back in the good ole' day and bla, bla, bla...

I'll make sarcastic comments about the radio station every once in a while just to get a reaction from Leah. I openly show my disdain and they think it is funny.

--The country music is better than Pedro though. Pedro [my arch enemy] also is out to make as much noise as possible. His high pitched, squeaky voice shouts "HOW ARE YOU DIANNA?" every. single. day. He's never been able to say Anna. I don't know why. And if you reply that you are "tired" He says: "Ooh, no--you mucho lazy-o." His English and Spanish combination is rather amusing and annoying. One of his favorite words to squeal is "SHUT UP" and a few others that I would never say.

...at my house. Growing up with four siblings has rare quiet moments. Whenever I find myself at home [alone] I am slightly unnerved by the eerie silence. It doesn't seem right without the competetion of being heard above the others. This is one area of noise that I will miss terribley.

I used to get extremely frustrated by the overwhelming vibe of sound surrounding our family dinner time. I would grow angry when my voice was not being heard. I formed a habit of saying, "Guys...guys, GUYS!" when I was either a) frustrated, b) excited about some news or c) just wanted some attention.
I used to think my siblings would purposely ignore me just so that I'd get worked up and begin my chant of "Guys...guys...GUYS!"

Within a month or two of going about this routinely spoken "phrase" my sister made a comment that halted my words.
"There goes anna again. Talking about guys. Guys, guys, guys...that's all she ever says." All of this she spoke with a wry smile and mischevious laughs shared with Luke. They taunted me about "guys" for a while.

I made myself grow out of that habit. Now I just yell there names real loud, bribe them, or pound on them to get some notice. :D

...with my friends. we talk. Sometimes I think about how there is normally never much silence when I'm hanging with friends. Most people think it is awkward when conversation ceases.

...My art teacher [from long ago] would always tell us kids, "Silence is golden." We'd always disagree.. But, now, six or so years later--I agree with Mrs. Blaine. In a way.

I'd never want to give up hearing the voices of children in merry play. But...

When there is noise there is distraction. For me, especially, I cannot write with music playing or people talking in the background. I end up concentrating on the surround sounds and have a difficult time mastering a clear focus.

I know this applys in my use of time too. It's not so much the overall noise; but the everyday things in life that take my mind far away from where it should be. I allow the "noise" of the crowds, the "noise" of my schedule and the "noise" of my feelings to thwart the voice of God.

He is always there. But, do I listen?

"Broadcasting from forty-second street..."

Hear ye, hear ye.

We've each been allotted two hours of free TV time.

I look into their precious faces and my breathe comes in a rush of air. Yes, there are a good number of mischevious little rascals; but, the overwhelming majority of them are adorable little things. One kid leans diligently over his paper mache and is beautifully concernced about how he lays the paper. It will not do to have that piece--"it's too short" he says. And yet another slaps his paper on with the furry of a storm. A smile nudges at the corner of his mouth. Disliking the entire idea of going slow and precisely, he'd rather just have it done with so he can run about wildly.

Little brother.

Luke has been helping out in the craft room this year.

Within minutes, he happened upon a roll of black table clothe and went to work creating a mask. His imagination soared, as always.