She also likes to wear underwear on her head:
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Random Thoughts
Harper is absorbing information at an alarming rate. She overhears things and repeats them days, sometimes months later. Usually it's something Josh teaches her. Her latest thing? She puts on a gameshow-host voice and says "Here comes big momma!" whenever I enter a room.
She also likes to wear underwear on her head:
She also likes to wear underwear on her head:
S.A.D.
I found out from my doctor that I have S.A.D.=Seasonal Affective Disorder. He told me I need to go sit under one of those non-tanning lamps and take some vitamin D. I have a feeling that everyone in the Midwest has S.A.D. I was going to list some of the symptoms here so that you could self-diagnose but they are too, well, sad. Plus, when I told my sister, she said, "That's a real thing?! I thought it was just something that happened to people in Michigan." I'm not completely sure what that means but I guess that I would, in fact, be seriously depressed if I lived in Michigan. So there you go.
I tried to find this affliction in my copy of the "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders." Josh, for years, would not allow me near this book for fear that I would diagnose myself with a host of illnesses. This is true. I always think I have something life-threatening. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a hypocondriac. The DSM classifies Hypochondriasis as "fears of having a serious disease based on a misinterpretation of one or more symptoms." See how handy this book is as a quick reference?
Once, my friends Christy and Aali gave me a novelty gift--a little spinnning wheel of physical symptoms that could be interpreted as anything from a harmless malady to a fatal cancer. The wheel was called "Yes, you really are dying." I laughed when I got it, but I'm telling you, I've used it as a reason to obsess over a sore throat.
I recently had to have the painfully embarrassing conversation with the minister at our church, that I can't take communion by intinction because I don't want to catch the flu from my church friends. At least now, with S.A.D., I can just tell people that I'm too depressed to get out of the pew.
So anyways, I don't like winter, cold, snow--and right now there's a heaping crapload of it coming down on my neighborhood. So until the weather warms up and I can crawl out of my cave, I imagine my days will look a little more like this:
I tried to find this affliction in my copy of the "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders." Josh, for years, would not allow me near this book for fear that I would diagnose myself with a host of illnesses. This is true. I always think I have something life-threatening. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a hypocondriac. The DSM classifies Hypochondriasis as "fears of having a serious disease based on a misinterpretation of one or more symptoms." See how handy this book is as a quick reference?
Once, my friends Christy and Aali gave me a novelty gift--a little spinnning wheel of physical symptoms that could be interpreted as anything from a harmless malady to a fatal cancer. The wheel was called "Yes, you really are dying." I laughed when I got it, but I'm telling you, I've used it as a reason to obsess over a sore throat.
I recently had to have the painfully embarrassing conversation with the minister at our church, that I can't take communion by intinction because I don't want to catch the flu from my church friends. At least now, with S.A.D., I can just tell people that I'm too depressed to get out of the pew.
So anyways, I don't like winter, cold, snow--and right now there's a heaping crapload of it coming down on my neighborhood. So until the weather warms up and I can crawl out of my cave, I imagine my days will look a little more like this:
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