Today has been a long day.
It started at nine o'clock when my mom called and asked me to deliver her diabetes equipment (i.e., notebook, insulin, glucose checker). She had forgotten in her rush to get to work and needed them.
No problem. I eventually got over there and dropped them off.
Afterward, I grabbed some lunch from Chic-Fil-A and came home. I watched television (for instance, this comedian DeRay), texted my friend about this event that happened in Wisconsin (see the bottom of this page), and doodled around on Mibba for a while.
Finally around five my mom came home, and we went to our regular Tuesday eating place -- Shoney's -- for our usual steak and salad.
I had band today, so at seven I made my way over to the band room as required. Around eight we moved outside for field practice.
It was there that everybody learned that this kid Eddie can't march to save his life. He's on the fifty; thus, the entire band adheres to him. (At least when marching on the field.) When he starts out, he marches small steps. Then he speeds up and increases the size. But then he drastically slows.
Whatever happened to consistency? And eight to five?
After many run-throughs and the "tradition" of saying who we are ("Who are you?" kick starts the mantra), we were dismissed. After finding my mom and the car, my friend and I went to Sonic for slushies. And before we even ordered, he laid it on us. I turned around to ask what kind of slushie he wanted me to order, and he says, "I have Crohn's Disease."
I've heard of Crohn's Disease. I believe I first learned of it on House (something about nodules on the intestine comes to mind), but I also read something about it in Scott Westerfield's Peeps. There's technically no cause, but essentially, your body goes crazy and starts attacking itself. Westerfield (as well as some scientists) theorizes that, since the body's immune system has no parasite or bacteria to go after (that results from our obsession with being clean), it fights an imaginary disease (i.e., the body).
It's just so hard to believe. Okay, well, not really. I can believe it. It's just . . . wouldn't I have noticed? If Crohn's causes extreme pain, wouldn't I have seen it? I mean, I'm not around him all the time, but I am for a lot of it. I imagine the pain occurs in little spurts. Like a muscle ache (my shoulder's been killing me lately) or heartburn. Momentary. But painful. Knowing him like I do, I should have known, sensed it in some way.
Apparently, only my mom, his mom, and I know. (Well, his family probably knows too.) It's like -- this big secret. You never know, do you? For all you know, your neighbor has an aneurism and your mother has kidney failure (mine does). And I might be run over by a truck tomorrow. Shift happens.
Anyway, it's been quite the day.
Two things remaining.
The first involves quotes, Wisconsin, and Harry Potter.
Here's the quote.
"It took a seven-year-old to tell us what it was. We thought it just some type of new tagger."
It was said by Jeff Sutter, captain of the Wauwatosa (what a name) police in response to eighty vandalized stop signs. Apparently, a Harry Potter fan went around town and added Voldemort to each sign. So they read STOP VOLDEMORT. :lmfao And it took a seven-year-old to explain.
And the last thing involves my Mibbian friend Pamela. She has a Naruto contest now, so if you're interested click here.
Without wax,
Elisabeth
By the way, has anyone seen the newest freecreditreport.com commercial? The one about the dinosaur phone...?
Some Bad News [and unrelatedly, something about Harry Potter]
August 5th, 2009 at 07:51am