VM - what are you thinking?

I had a lot of hopes for keeping a blog. Good writing practice. Connect with church members. Get discovered at long last by some blues band.

Little did I know that my blog would have a different legacy: Evidence for some future epidemiologist that I was patient 0 when the big one came.

Had a swab stuck up my nose and tickling the back of my eyeball yesterday so that I can say I do not have swine flu. Seemed like that would have been simple enough, but they kept asking questions. And more questions. And a lot of eyebrow lifting by the doc.

Then the pronouncement: Viral Meningitis.

Now, for my regular readers, here's the funny part. The telltale symptom was confusion. Guess I've had viral meningitis for at least 6 years and it seems to be caused by pregnancy, childbirth, breast feeding, and motherhood.

As usual, the blessing of knowing a lot of people means I know a lot of people who have had viral meningitis. The prognosis is great. Only half of them wear bibs in public because of it.

I did not go on the arthritis walk. Thank you to everyone who pledged. I would like to recommend to the Arthritis Foundation that those of us who raise $1,000 by selling indulgences earn the right to keep our weary, wobbly cartilage in bed on walk day. (I did do a memorial service and a wedding that day, but neither required ambulation before 9AM. Say what you will about the UUs, but we are civilized about mornings.)

My prescription is to stay in bed until Monday morning when I may or may not go down to Mississippi. We'll see. Hint to the epidemiologist of the future: people who are willing to admit in public that they have viral meningitis that they had tested for swine flu and that they will go from their sickbed to a mission trip are most likely to cause the global germ apocolypse. But please note- I took all of my antibiotics and did not show my face in public with a fever. So, nyah.

I've also been out of touch blogwise because my internet at home has been "erratic." When will customer service reps finally say the word "broken?"

Then again, maybe I am evidence for some future programmer that I was techno idiot 0 when the big one came.

My husband has just received his third "I dunno" from me in response to a question. Not my fault. He's grilling me. When did the internet start working? What time did I eat lunch? Where is our 3 year old? Geez.

He has also pointed out that the swelling around my brain should keep me from making public pronouncements via the erratic internet. Would there be any blogging in this world if we all followed that rule? There he goes with the raised eyebrow. I seem to have an illness that causes other people's eyebrows to leap.

He has also pointed out that when searching my compacted brain for the name of my diagnosis the other night, ole' tight skull came up with: Vehicular Manslaughter, Virginius Mobeley, and Vagina Monologues.

Put that eyebrow back.

Regrets

You know that running list that starts ticking along when you try meditation, prayer, or sleep? Sometimes it is searching for the name of that guy that dated that girl who lived near you twenty years ago. Other times it is the list of all that you need to do as soon as you are finished this meditation that was item 14 on your to do list. (And for meditators - yes, I meant for that to be funny.)

And then there's the regrets. The medley of "I wish I had not done thats". Of all the useless lists I run in my head, that is the most useless of all. I wore the dress. It looked like crap. The photos prove it - why do I need to go through that all again?

Here is my latest list keeping me from spiritual enlightenment. Hope it helps clear out yours.

File name: What was I thinking?

Contents: Herbert Marcuse's Eros and Civilization . Death by snobbish, irrelevant drivel can happen so much more pleasantly in other ways. At least I bought it used. But why am I STILL reading it?

The Arthritis walk. 3 miles on a Saturday morning? I've been having trouble after the second block. Brainstorming graceful ways to show up, stride a bit, and spend the rest of the day on my tail. 7 days of "training" (read: napping) to go.

Not sending that Pho back. Tripe is still tripe, even when you move it to the side of the bowl.

Those fancy vitamins keep making me nauseous.

The lost, great spiritual discipline book. This explains why I am stuck with Marcuse.

Time not spent in organization, decluttering, and filing efforts. Must attack office files. Must do Spring cleaning. Must hit garden like a yard ninja. (Begin list of the 462 other things I'd rather do here.)

The pinwheel quilt requires 2,500+ pieces And I don't figure this out until after I finished piece number 314.

Missing (because it makes me feel better to run a list of close calls on regret):

Resisted that $30 Easter bonnet on Monument Ave. Probably a rare case of haberdashed wisdom on my part.

Resisted that $60 Ikea kitchen island and shouldn't have. Must have for the sewing room. Oh, drats - that means it's a regret.

You see what I am working against here on that whole enlightenment quest?

Hell, Redemption and the Arthritis Fundraiser

There are times in one's life when a person is extra grateful for friends.

Like when I fell and broke my hand at my son's elementary school and a few friends suggested I lay off the 10 AM happy hours.

Or when I walk into a room and a friend says, "Now that is an outfit only you would invent."

Or the friend who called me "Crash" for years after I was rammed in a bad accident. He started with that nickname before I left the hospital.

Wait.

Those are not times when I am grateful for my friends. And admitting that I fell stone cold sober was a bit shaming.

But TODAY is a time when I am grateful for the whole motley bunch. Today I checked my arthritis website and I had raised a tidy sum of money by sweet people who said sweet things. Today I am grateful for them all.

But there is a bit of a curveball to these kind-hearted, generous types. With a few lovely exceptions who will be shown special prizes by Vanna White later, most of them responded to the following email:

Subject: I limp. Give me money.

Howdy, friends!

I've been trying to think of clever, fundraisy ways to say this. Here are a few outtakes:

*In this economy you can save your last ten dollars for some gasoline and a taco, or you can sponsor me in a charity walk!

*I have a crippling disease. Wanna' give the Arthritis Foundation some cash?

*I lost a poker game with an Arthritis Foundation fundraiser and owe her $500. Please give 10 or she will hit me in my swollen arthritic knee.

And my personal favorite:

*Even though I don't believe in hell, you will probably go there if you don't pony up at least 10 bucks for my arthritis walk. $100 and that whole drunken incident of infamy is completely forgotten by God and everyone.

So there you have it. I'm doing an arthritis walk because I have taken more than my share of benefits from the Arthritis Foundation this year with my crappy health. They expect me to both raise money in this economy and walk. For miles. In the morning.

And people say the Pope is unreasonable.

Here's my link if you are willing to save me from myself:

https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=274720&lis=0&kntae274720=C99C956A66C44097B008455A1CB52A9C&supId=78816178

Catchy link, huh? Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

And if you would rather boogie: arthritis fundraiser at Shenanigan's on Thursday April 16 from 6PM until they throw us out.

Thanks! Hope this is one of the better appeals for money you get today.

Alane

So, that is what they got and the sweet punkins started sending money by the fistfuls. But here's the thing, several have mentioned that the clincher was the line about that whole drunken incident of infamy coming off the books. And they have followed with some confessions that would make The Lady Chablis blush.

Which is why I am extending my fundraising for this event. I'm sure there are some of you out there needing to get some guilt out of the way for some wee indiscretions of the distant past, or yesterday. Turns out that sponsoring a hobbled minister in a charity walk can get that done for you. Follow that link, help out the good people of the Arthritis Foundation, and use me as a character reference for that next job application.

Having a Party

Short version - Come to an Arthritis Foundation Fundraiser on April 16th from 6PM until you are too tired to stay any longer. It is at Shenanigan's Eatery and Pub on MacArthur Ave. in Richmond's northside.

Long version - There will be a band, a bar (with non-alcoholic choices as well), and nice people like me asking you for money. Three gals who love music, love to dance are throwing this. Oh yeah, we also all live with Rheumatoid Arthritis, a crippling auto immune disease that destroys connective tissue throughout our bodies. No, this is not the achy knee from a football injury kind of arthritis. But should you have that kind of arthritis (osteoarthritis) we are raising money for research for you, too! Who loves you, baby?

Longer version - Can't come? Go to my website and sponsor me for an arthritis foundation walk in a week.

Yes, it does seem kind of cruel to make people with deteriorating joints walk for money. But we like to think of it as - hey, I'm still walking! Plus I've got my trusty canine sidekick, Chicken, assisting me with the walking part.

I'm trying to get 50 people to give $10 or more each as my goal. The idea is that through donating, 50 more people will know what RA (rheumatoid arthritis) is and may NONE of you get it. (And if you've already got it... come to the party, I'll buy you a soda since we can't drink on these @&#$ meds.)

Thanks for your help. Come out and dance with us on Thursday night!

Rocking in the Lean Times

I was born for this economy: love coupons, enjoy tracking spending on a spreadsheet, capable of gardening as long as we can survive on radishes and cherry tomatoes. But most of all...

I am crafty. And I am passing it on.

The Little Man and I entered a challenge at our local quilt store in honor of our quilting buddy Phoebe's birthday. I did an Amish pattern on acid and tricked it out with hand-embroidered Rilke. He did a pattern from the latest issue of Quilter's Newsletter and tricked it out with a Gwen Stefani inspired title: "The Ship's Called Bananas!" (We are each holding the other person's quilt in the photos.)

And we won some prizes. Unlike many quilters, there has been a lot of fist pumping, high fives, and jumping naked on a bed in celebration. (That would be the Little Man.)

We both have already spent our prize gift certificates in our minds. I asked my husband to comment on our own "quilting adventure" for this blog and he said, "It isn't easy living in the shadow of two crafting giants."

(What a great guy. We need to make him a pillow out of an old favorite sweater.)

For those not on Facebook, get ready for the Easter premiere of the family fashion line. Think Von Trapp family if they lived in Charleston, South Carolina. And members of church, wait until you see our sexton's new haircut! He is morally opposed to paying for a haircut, but he was about 18 months past due for one so I chopped away in my kitchen last night. I'll try to upload the photos along with the Von Trapp tribute after Easter, but I don't want to spoil the surprise.

For my next economy trick I will replace the billions stolen by a certain Ponzi loving financier through making homemade pasta, brewing my own beer, and hosting potlucks. (If only...)