Sneaky Stress

Hi guys,

Ever notice how stress can sneak up on a girl? Y'know - you trundle along, thinking everything's all good, you're on your month off, life is sweet... then you send a cover letter with two colours of font in it (d'Oh), lose your wallet (find it again, thank goodness), stick the wrong stickers on the new tokens for Settlers of Catan, Cities and Knights (cry in the bathroom), and burn your finger on a PopTart. That's when you realize that, despite your month off's best efforts, you're stressed anyway.

Guess where I'm at? Yeah. Stressed. Worried about school starting, finding a part-time job, writing my prospectus, fitting everything into a new schedule.... It's kind of been eating away at me over the last week or so, and I didn't really realize it til today. I guess that I need to get organized, even though it's my time off. Tomorrow afternoon I plan to sit down and map out a schedule for this week, in order to feel that I'm making productive use of my time. I'm hoping to accomplish two things with this: 1) actually get stuff done (e.g., going into the lab, writing my thesis), and 2) actually relax during my time off. We'll see. :)

Today was a pleasant day, even if I DID cry over putting the wrong stickers on the Settlers' tokens. ;) Jason and I met up with Kathie and Brandon at an auction house, to check out the goodies. Katie and Jason got bored before the auctioneer made it around to the stuff Brandon was semi-interested in, so we picked up what we'd purchased (K&B: ramen noodles, Cheezies and apple juice - a well rounded meal!; Jason: 3 pots for $12.50!) and headed out. J. and I went to West Ed to pick up Cities and Knights, and spent close to an hour just trying to find a parking spot. The mall was stupid busy! I guess that's what happens when it's back-to-school time and the weather is awful. :) We finally got our game, and headed of to play with K. and B. The game was pretty frustrating for me at first, because I didn't understand any of its subtleties. About 2/3 of the way through it started making sense, and I really started to enjoy it. It's more complex than Settlers, and also longer, both of which combine to mean that it's easier to catch up if you fall behind. I'm excited to play again - I think that I can do a lot better next time.

Tomorrow I'm teaching Jr. Church - it's all about Noah, so I think we're going to build an ark out of chairs and pretend to be animals, and then I think it might be a lazy afternoon. Jason's encouraging me to explore sculpting, since I enjoy baking bread so much (I love manipulating the dough!), so maybe I'll give that a shot. His flat is lacking a backgammon board, so he said that if I made the pieces, he would make the board. I think it's a nice idea for a first attempt for me - something simple, and fairly craft-like (as opposed to art-like). We'll see how it goes.

And to end this post, a semi-funny, semi-painful story. (The best kind, really!)

Those Bloody WingDings

Wednesday evening, about 7 o'clock, Jason and I are hungry.

"The Stonehouse does Wing Wednesday, hun," I say. "Why don't we go there?"

Jason readily agrees, and we head off to the pub. Once there, we take a couple stools at the bar, as the tables are all full, order a couple of pints, and start chatting with the bar staff. After glancing over the wing section on the menu, we place our order.

"We'd like an order of the Greek wings, an order of the Cajun Salt and Pepper, and an order of your WingDing hot wings," Jason says.

The bartender raises an eyebrow. "The WingDing hot wings?" he asks. "You sure about that? They're REALLY hot."

"That's fine," Jason shrugs. He eats hot foods all the time, and is rarely phased by anything a restaurant refers to as being 'really spicy.'

Grinning, the waiter replies "Alright then, I'll bring you the waiver to sign."

Jason and I both laugh, but it's cut short when the waiter lays a two-page waiver form on the bar in front of us. It turns out that if a person can eat all 12 hot wings in a reasonable amount of time they'll win free wings the next time, and a chance at winning a hundred bucks.

"Might as well give it a shot," Jason says as he signs his name. I mostly ignore him as I read the warnings about death, doom, and diarrhea at the foot of page one.

The waiter hustles off to shout in our order, and the two regulars on the stools next to us begin throwing their two cents in.

"They are REALLY hot," the first man says. "I only made it through two before I had to give up."

"Whatever you do, DON'T touch your eyes after eating 'em" chimes in the second man.

"Yeah! That's fer damn sure," the first one replies. He pauses, then adds "And wash yer hands BEFORE you take a leak. Learned that one the hard way." He nods sagely, then takes another swig of his beer.

Not too much later, our wings appear. Jason grabs his first WingDing, and chows down.

"How is it," I ask.

"Not bad," he says. "All heat and no flavor - just like I suspected."

"Can you finish them all?" the bartender asks.

"Yeah, no problem."

Two more wings in and the tears are running down Jason's face. I've seen him eat a lot of spicy food before, but I've never seen him cry doing it.

"You Ok, hun?" I ask.

"Yeah, but these are THE spiciest wings I've ever had. They don't taste like anything though - they're just HOT. I wonder if they're seasoned with something synthetic."

I keep eating my wings (the more ordinary ones), and am disappointed with how flavorless they are. I glance over again at Jason, tears streaming now, looking somewhat ashen.

"Jason?" I ask. "You Ok?"

"I can't eat anymore," he says, pushing the plate away. "I'm feeling really sick."

He gets up and heads for the washroom. The bartender clears the plate away, and returns to ask "Do you think he'd like a glass of milk?"

"He's lactose intolerant," I reply. "A glass of milk would only make things worse."

Jason returns, looking a bit better, but still not so good. "The heat didn't get to me," he says. "It's just that whatever's in them is really making my stomach rise."

We finished up our regular wings and headed for the door. About a block into our 4 block walk, Jason suddenly stops, grabbing his stomach.

"I thought I was feeling better," he gasped, "but suddenly I feel awful. How far to your place?"

"Just a few more blocks," I say, worried.

We hurry on. Another block into the walk, and Jason drops to his alongside the grass. "I think I'm going to be sick," he says, turning an awful shade of puce. He kneels there, heaving, for a moment or two, before he staggers to his feet.

"I can't do it. I feel awful, but I can't be sick."

We hurry along for another block, when Jason suddenly stops again. "How much further to your place?" he asks.

"Just another block, sweetie. C'mon, let's hurry."

Halfway through the last block, Jason suddenly gasps out, "Ela, will you still love me if I s**t my pants?"

I pause, think about it for a moment, and say "Yes, Jason. I will still love you, EVEN if you s**t your pants. But there's only 1/2 a block left - you can make it!"

In the end, we DID make it back to the condo in time, and poor Jason spent a very agonizing evening being unable to either throw up or to be tormented by Montezuma's Revenge. Instead, he got to lay perfectly still and drink nothing. The slightest movement or the smallest beverage made his stomach explode into agonies of pain. Eventually able to sleep, he awoke the next morning feeling much better, if not 100%.

Watch out for the WingDings.

Ela