The Life of the Flesh

Well, at long last I've made it to a blood drive!!!!....some of you may know that I have had an almost morbid fascination with giving blood for the last year plus. Now, after a saga of waiting to turn seventeen and to get a good opportunity, the time had arrived.

On Monday I learned via the internet that SNHU was hosting an all day blood drive the following day. Since I was going to be in that neck of the woods anyway, I gleefully made plans to go and convinced Mum to come too.

All Tuesday I pumped iron (ate green leafy vegetables, chicken giblets, and fortified LIfe cereal) and drank gallons of water. After all this waiting, I wasnt about to be turned back for some stupid reason like dehydration.

Anyway, around 5:30 Mum and I made it into the Penmen's gym. It was mobbed! I guess the hurricane really made people aware of the Red Cross or something. Nervously eyeing the long lines we asked the sign up lady how long it would take. She told us to expect to be there for at least an hour and a half. sigh. We decided to stay anyway, lured on by the free monarchs tickets, t shirts, and Red Sox raffle tickets. (and I thought it was illegal to pay for organ and blood donations!!)

After signing in we were shuffled along to the next station where we received numbers (49 and 50) and several sheets of info to read. As we read and waited for our numbers to be called, sinister things began to happen.

"I don't think I can, do this, Bria." Mum became nauseous and saw white flashes, etc. as she read the pamphlet. Eventually, at my urging, she decided to leave, let me give blood by myself, and send Aaron to pick me up. She's had multiple terrible hospital experiences and hadn't eaten much that day, so it seemed best that way.

Once on my own, I sat and waited for numbers to slowly advance. (they were at seventeen or so when we got there, and moved verrrrry slowwly.)

At long last, my number was called, and I got a donation form. I was told to go sit with another group and wait for my number to be called again. If I got through that hurdle I would go sit in another group and wait some more.

On my way to the chairs, I spotted a familiar green and gold shirt with Hebrew writing. Hooray for the IDF! I almost congratulated the wearer on his choice of apparell but chickened out at the last minute. He was kinda scary looking.

Anyway, I sat down next to number forty-eight and tried to read the lips of the tiny old lady who called out numbers. After minimal strain, I caught a weak "six!". argh. I settled down to people watch. Twas interesting.

Had time to imagine all sorts of reasons to say no to the question, "was I feeling healthy and well?". Maybe I was tired...maybe I was achy...maybe I was coming down with something. Ah, the power of suggestion.

The girl next to me told me exciting stories of needles the size of juicebox straws and blood clots and stuff. She was quite nice. (really, she was, despite her scary tales.)

After an age, I was called up. I sat in a little booth and let a nurse prick my finger to test my blood. Boy am I glad I don't have diabetes or whatever it is that requires pricking your fingers every day. Mine's still sore, for some reason, and violin would be tricky.

The dreaded iron test as first.

I failed it.

After two hours of waiting, I was informed that I needed to have a minimum of 36% red blood cells, and I was at 34%. (Iron is used for making red blood cells, I think.) I was told to eat lots of meat and stuff and come back in a few weeks.

I was actually relieved, because at that point I was feeling pretty drained without losing an extra pint!

Daddy was waiting for me and took me home.

Next time, I think I will make an appointment at the blood center.

(oh, and they let both Mum and me keep our Monarchs tickets!)

I Guess Pooh Bear Wasn't Vegan

While at the checkout line today at the A Market (the local health food store) I suddenly realized I was very hungry. I guess the owners of A Market had anticipated this hunger in their customers, for they had placed a rack of cookies conveniently next to the counter. I succumbed to my impulse buying and snatched one up. To my initial horror, I discovered that it was a vegan cookie and did not contain lots of ingredients that I've come to expect in my cookies. It did have wheat in it, so I bought it, deciding i could tolerate the nondairy bit. Oh, and it did have sugar, too.

Anyway, I noticed that the wrapper proudly stated that it contained no honey. This struck me as odd. A shred of knowledge from my beekeeping days asserted itself in my brain. I remembered reading that vegans disapproved of beekeeping because the bees were "in captivity." ARgh. I expressed to Aaron my annoyance with vegans not eating honey and wondered out loud why they wouldn't, seeing the premise I had heard was ridiculous.

"It's because it's an animal product," came a voice from behind me. The speaker was a blonde Californiaish (not a compliment)fellow who works at A Market. he went on to explain to me a bunch of stuff that I already knew, like the fact that vegans won't wear wool. I opened my mouth to explain to him that honey isn't a product from the bee's body like wool, and that bees can no longer live in the wild because of parasites that have developed over the years. But before I could explain that he had walked off leaving me seething at his rather arrogant tone. sigh. I'll just have to tell him next time...

I can understand, no, not understand, respect people's decisions to be vegan for ethical decisions, but until I either feel that adopting a vegan diet will improve my health or that animals have more rights than people, I will continue to put honey on my pancakes, drink milk, wear sweaters, and eat hamburgers!

Saturated or Unsaturated?

I have a simple way to guage the temperature in my attic room. My thermometer is a little jar of coconut oil. This oil is solid at room temperature and is very similar to the natural oils that the scalp produces. Because I have long hair the ends of my hair don't get any oil, so sometimes I massage a bit into them.

Anyway, my room temperature has kept my coconut oil in it's liquid state for much of the summer.

Today, it was fully solid!!!! This, along with a certain smell in the air, indicates to me that the heat of summer will soon be gone and the cool of fall will be here. Rejoice all you who live in attics!

(S--I am not griping about my room. I love it, despite the heat, and sometimes I even have AC, which takes care of that problem.)

A Case of Mistaken Identity

While swinging on the porch swing yesterday afternoon, I animatedly told Aaron a story of some sort. I forget now if it was some trivial anecdote or a fragment of a dream or what. Suffice it to say that I talked a good piece. :-)

Suddenly, an interruption floated around the corner of the house.

"What are you reading?" Cara called from the pool.

"Nothing," I replied. We all laughed.

Then I thought for awhile. Is it a compliment to have someone mistake my talking for reading? Do I talk in a dull monotone, or do I put my words together so well that it sounds like I'm reading them? Or is my reading voice stumbling and scattered, sounding like I am groping for words as I talk? Or maybe I was just going on and on and on........

Yet another topic for me to ponder.

Stylin'

"Culottes are Cool"?

Why Hath the Common Opinion Afforded Women Soules?

Today I passed a used bookstore while doing an errand. I struggled with myself for some time, but the memory of Craig's tribute to the smell of old books won me over. I'm glad I did..I left quite happy with seven books and a not yet empty purse.

One of my finds was The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Donne. (btw, not all of his poetry is so great.) For those of you who don't know, John Donne coined the phrases "No man is an island," "for whom the bell tolls," and "catch a falling star." He wrote some sonnets I admire (Katie admires some, too!) along with some excellent meditations and sermons.

Some of his works that I was not familiar with are his "Paradoxes and Problemes." These are essays on different topics, many of which made me laugh. Among the more amusing titles are the following:

"A Defence of Womens Inconstancy"
"That Women Ought to Paint"
"That A Wise Man Is Known by Much Laughing"
"Why Puritans Make Long Sermons?"
"Why Hath the Common Opinion Afforded Women Soules?"
"Why Doth the Poxe soe much Affect to Undermine the Nose?"
"Why are Courtiers Sooner Atheists than Men of Other Conditions?"

Good old John was definitely a thinking man.

Grateful

Thank God I'm not grown up yet.