Mother of boys

I got sick this week.

This is notable for one reason:

It was an “All exits, no waiting” scenario.

And since there’s only one toilet and the exits are on opposite ends of me, I RUINED the bathroom.

First time this ever happened to me.

My guess is that I either caught the norovirus or I got food poisoning.

From sushi.

How awful is that?

I can’t even look at a slice of sake without feeling sick to my stomach.

The good news is I survived and I’m back at work.

The bad news is that it feels like I’ve been hit by a train.

Body aches up the wazoo. . .

Or OUT the wazoo, as it is in my case.

The worst part of it all, besides ACTUALLY being sick, is that I had an audience.

Round one: My youngest son watched me clean the walls in the bathroom and then TOLD ALL HIS FRIENDS ABOUT IT. He has also taken to calling me “Poopy McPooperson.”  So there’s that.

Round two: My oldest son watched me throw up in a garbage can and proceeded to tell me that it was happening to me because I wouldn’t buy him a $45,000 sports car.

That’s the kind of sympathy you get when you’re the mother of boys.

Rock climbing, scalping and norovirus

I took a trip to Eastern Oregon University with a friend of mine when I was in college.

We decided to go camping and rock climbing along with a bunch of her friends.

We all packed up our cars and took off to the Mountains – Mount Emily, I believe.

I’d never rock climbed before and, as it turns out, instead of rock CLIMBING I was learning to RAPPELL.

It’s what you do when you go DOWN the mountain at a generally fast rate of speed.

I hiked to the top of the mountain, stood precariously on the cliff as I got harnessed in. . .

. . . and I began to rappel down the mountain.

Not so bad.

All of a sudden I felt a hard tug at my head.

I stopped my descent immediately.

My long, free-flowing hair had gotten caught in the 8-ring.

The guys never thought to warn me about my hair because they all had short hair and it never occurred to them that it could cause a problem.

I quickly assessed that if I descended any further, I’d get scalped, at least partially.

So as I dangled on the side of a mountain, I held myself in place with one hand and I ripped out my hair with the other hand.

Meanwhile, one rock climber was harnessing up to decend on top of me to help while another climber was getting ready to scale the mountain to get to me to help.

I told them to stay and just give me time.

It seemed like it took forever to rip out that chunk of hair, but I did it.

As it turns out, the camping trip was somewhat doomed for me.

Not only did I rip out my hair, but I also got norovirus during my last day there.

You try having norovirus while camping.

It’s not pretty.

 

Actual pics from the trip:

 

Bottom right: me getting my hair stuck in the 8-ring!

 

Me with Eric Howard, who I crushed on all weekend.

 

Taking a break from ripping out my hair to flip off my friend Shannon, taking the picture.

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