I hope your rest day went well. Mine was interesting, which I credit to the fact that I told Jesus last night that I would work out today in offering for you not walking today. That did not go according to plan, to say the least.
I woke up this morning at 10AM, then went back to sleep until 12:30. Groggily arising from bed, I walked downstairs where my mother informed me that I had slept through all of the sunlight. Apparently, it had been bright and warm that morning, but clouds had blown in during the afternoon. My dad, neglecting the weather report, was confidently outside mowing the lawn when the first torrential downpour began. Within 20 minutes, the sky had gone from sunny and clear to dark and thundering, and my dad walked inside drenched. It did clear up for a little bit in the afternoon, but continued to alternate in about one hour cycles between storming and sunny. Not that I'm surprised: Lake effect weather is real!
However, just as things were looking up, my sister and I headed outside with a frisbee. I was attempting to take a break in the midst of cleaning my bathroom, so I left it with bottles of lotion strewn across the floor and piles of hair ties littering the counter. (I was confident that I would have plenty of time tonight to finish cleaning, but alas, t'was not to be.) Anna and I tossed around the glorious disc for 20 minutes, which was just enough time for her to wreck several of father's new flowers and my stomach to decide it was done for the day.
Rushing inside just in time, my porcelain toilet was graced with what I can only say was an onslaught of the worst sort. I thought I was done after half of an hour of sweat, moans, and diarrhea, but my attempt to rise from my fetal position was met with a secondary onslaught. As I lay there, I considered my diet, which was a few slices of bell peppers, some fontina cheese, and a cookie (plus my daily coffee), aka a light combination entirely unable to account for the wretched state of my stomach.
Finally forcing myself to rise and shower before Mass, I hobbled to the car and prayed for an hour of relief so that I could go to Holy Communion. Luckily, a surprise of a different sort awaited me in the church, so let me give credit to the grace of your pilgrimage when I say that I didn't even blink upon the discovery of Kelly and Nick in the back pews. In fact, it was so ordinary-feeling and un-panicky that I wouldn't mention it as an event, except that three weeks ago my calm demeanor would have only been possible with a miracle. This time, I didn't even feel the need to mentally note where she was sitting, nor did I think of her during Mass. My primary concern was making sure that I didn't empty the remaining contents of my stomach into the aisle (which became a real risk as the Gospel was read) and I am still doing well now!
I came home to a magnificent dinner of grilled chicken with avocado, potato wedges, corn, french bread, and strawberries. I only was able to eat a little, and I left the table longing for a little bit more, but now, I'm curled up in bed for the night. I never got to hear whether being cold was an issue for you; I hope not by how tan you looked! But I am still a bit chilly wearing socks, two layers of pants, a long sleeve shirt under a sweatshirt, and tucked in under my covers. Probably a stomach bug or something, but at least I am treated to a delightful view as I wallow in my sickliness:
I love you, too! Ponder love today.
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