Pendititis

I got really sick today for some reason...

it was quite bizarre...

but I had a fever and was quite nauseous. 

My sweet friends here were incredible. Kara, Bethany, Becca, and Josh took care of me all day long. 

At one point I am told that I was hallucinating.

Kara came in and asked me how I was feeling, and I told her that I didn't think I was too good because I had "pendititis. "(not to be confused with appendicitis) She said, "Oh...mm...well I haven't heard of that before."

I think I told her that was because it was really rare. I also told her that my friend Katy Robb had it and I thought I did as well. This being said, I asked her what the symptoms were....

To which she responded, "Well, hmm, I don't know...."

I did not think that that was a sufficient response and so I told her to go and ask Dr. John. 

She asked, "Who's Dr. John?"

I told her that it was Dr. John Sandri and made her feel like an absolute fool for even having to ask. (John Sandri is not a doctor. He is a volunteer worker at L'abri and he works in the office right next to my room.) 

So, to appease me, she went and asked "Dr. John" and explained to him my dire/deathly situation. 

He was confused as he too did not know the symptoms for "pendititis." He had her tell me that I had the L'abri flu....to which I was satisfied and resorted back to my coma. 

I slept the ENTIRE day but was woken up so that Kara could help bathe me. I guess I had a fever, and I guess I didn't smell very good. She literally sat alongside my bath and helped me wash my hair. 

It was quite humbling actually. 

I was humbled and hungry. So, at dinner, I woke up and went down to sit in some corner and eat. Eating felt better, but I am really weird when I get sick. They told me some more stories. 

Kara said she had to check to see if I was breathing a couple of times because I laid in the same position for about ten hours. 

The people here are wonderful. Later in the evening some of us sat on the upstairs porch and Bethany read Franny and Zooey to us. It was good, but I still had chills a bit. 

Right now I just feel simple and shaky....and I can't sleep...

I hope this doesn't start a bad pattern. 

This is SPECIFICALLY to Michael Alan Drackert.

Why you ask? Why write a blog dedicated to someone?

Oh no. Don't worry friends. This is no dedication. This is a WARNING! 

Here's why---because of him I 

a.) have a bruise on my right leg

and b.) got cow dung stuck inside my shoes. 

How could this all be his fault you ask..."oh he's so innocent" you say. Guess again!

So, why Emily are you so bitter? Well, let me explain---so I am getting ready-packing for Switzerland. I made a list, checked over it, etc. And dear, sweet, generous Mike comes over...I show him my list--and what does he do?--he LAUGHS! He laughed at my list. I was "overpacking" I guess and he thought I should take some of his guidelines. Of course. Good ole mountain man Mike shows me the ropes...and I TRUSTED him! I trusted him....

He said, "Em, do you really need running shoes and "dirty" running shoes?" (I had specified in my Microsoft Word document.) 

I like to be specific. 

He basically went through my list and told me that I should get rid of the "non-essentials." Aw thanks Mikey poo...You must be so smart and sooo sweet...whata helper. 

Some of these "non-essentials" may have included: rollerblades, frisbee, paints and paint brushes, hiking boots, drawing supplies, watercolor paints, a film camera, and, of course, some cute shoes(aka brown boots). I thought, "Ya know, Mike is probably right. He's always right....right?" WRONG!

Here's what happened. Some friends said, "Hey Em, wanna go see these caves down the mountain?" To which I responded with an excited "of course!" I get all geared up in my caving gear-T-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and a fleece. Perfect. 

Well, it's a 45 minute hike down to the bottom of the mountain from where we were. We all chug on down there right after dinner to catch a glimpse of the sun setting over the Alps. Merciless. We get to the bottom of the waterfall river thing---I would go into more depth but this whole thing is to discredit Mike as royalty. 

Anyways, cave. We all climb in, it's incredible. Pictures will come later. We have flashlights and cave lamps. We're prepared. This cave experience is a story in itself involving new exploration, army crawling, cavern climbing, and quarter sized spiders---the exact reason it became an urgent retreat. 

Ok, so we all get out. It's not pitch black and about 11 pm. So, we just chill on the cave outside telling scary stories and such. Great. 

Well, the rule of hiking DOWN a mountain is usually, if you climb all the way down, you normally, if not always, must go back up. It was a 45 minute hike down from L'abri...so just imagine the hike back...up....right. It's pretty dark and is probably time to get back seen as though it's just...oh...lightening.  I guess that bringing only one pair of tennis shoes, my running shoes, was a bad idea in this condition...which goes onto explain my blistered and bleeding right knee....mmm flashback....

"Hiking boots Em? You don't need all this..."

Oh really Mike? Really? Ok, you can pay for my blister (or at least buy me some of that cool scar cream...). No hiking boots? Great idea! Thanks for that!

Anyways, we keep on up the trail. It's pitch black, until we get to this clearing of the trees...I want to explain how beautiful the stars were but that's for another time...After the clearing, it's only a little ways up. You think, ah, this should get flat....but no. It's always a steady incline. Sweet. 

So, we realize that we are close to L'abri because we hear the calling of our chalet....the freaking cowbells screaming and alerting us that we are "oh so close" to home. Oh, and don't worry, we just got a little off trail and ended up having to pass through the sweet little COW PASTURE in the dead of night. Fun. And guess what? The cows, of course and explained previously, are still awake. I love territorial swiss cows. 

Right as I ask, "Cows can't be mean right?" I see the turning of this brown head towards me as I am stared down by these green, ominous eyes. AND THEY START RUNNING!!!!! They start coming towards us. So, what would any rational human do in this fearful animal situation---run. Good thing I had running shoes right? I scurried away and right as I am about to exit the gate....I feel something mushy....

I STEPPED IN COW DUNG! Let me just tell you how fun it is to step in crap the size of a boot. And then let me tell you how much more fun it is to have shoes with little "breathing" holes that allow the cow crap to seep in. Mmm, yes please. 

This is the second time I cursed Mike. His cursed name bellowed through the Alps. 

No hiking boots necessary Mike? Overpacking is such a girl thing to do Mike? Really? 

The ONE time I listen to him I am bleeding and cleaning out cow dung from between my toes. A real treat. Thanks for that. 

I have a fever...and the only medication...is more cow bell.

I might kill a cow.

No more poor little guy. No more sympathetic Emily. Bell meet your damnation.

I was sitting on the roof the other night, wrapped in blankets with my friend Becca; it was incredible. The misty skies had died, giving birth to clusters of stars. My eyes, after having exercised all day, wanted a little rest and rejuvenation. 

Impossible. 

Although weather was warm under the blankets and the wind was sweet in melody--one sound made drunk the sweet serenity--those bloody cows and their rusty freaking bells. 

I'm going to kill them, all of them. Screw cheese. Screw milk. Screw meat. In fact, screw their bloody life! These cows are such dumb oxen. You wanna know why it's not abusive for them to have bells anymore...because they are DEAF! They probably can't even HEAR the ringing anymore. But I can. Oh yes, I can indeed. 

My friend Jason just came by. I told him that I had been writing 6 pages about how much I loathed the swiss cow. He looked concerned. He also sympathized with the cow and told me that if the farmer takes the bell off, the cows get depressed. DEPRESSED. Abusive farmers!!! Isn't that like stockholm syndrome or something? 

He also told me that maybe the reason I came here was not to seek guidance...but to realize my life calling: dairy farming.

I said he was wrong...

I do pay a lot of attention to cows....

My next book of study is Decision Making and Career Exploration. 

Midgets in Yellow Straightjackets

I didn't realize that my biggest threat here would be a killer bee. Yes, I understand it's a little guy in a yellow jacket....it's dead with a simple hand swap...blah, blah, blah.

But no, it's like a crazy little man in a yellow straight jacket following you around with a rusty old knife attached to his backside. It's NOT nice little bee---it's the psychologically distorted, sword ready midget. I think people thought it was the first burglary of Huemoz, Switzerland when I came running around the house screaming, "He won't leave me alone...ahhh...he's following me...."

These little psycho midgets have the capability of making me, ME, feel insane. Yeah. That's how psychotically manipulative these straight jacket midgets are----they get everyone else to see ME as the creepo. When, let's be honest, they are just suicidal creeps! One sting and they are done...right? Yes. But still, they come to find and scare ME in an effort to just kill themselves? 

Oh, and I'm messed up for running from a midget psychopath? I think not. Who would have thought the suicidal creatures would be so attracted to me. I for sure don't smell like flowers (note to self-see a doctor to figure out odor dysfunction). Maybe that's part of their distortion---they enjoy BO-they LIKE when people are scared. 

They are freaking MADMEN! It's like those pets that love following the person who hates it the most. Or like the little babies that cry and cry until the awkward, incapable fool holds them. Dementia I tell you, and not a mild case either. 

So the question is....how do I get these attachment disorder bees to be scared of ME? Maybe I'll start blowing kisses and run after THEM....mmm no. I could dress up as mama bee and just try to follow them everywhere....mmm no...ok. ok. Idea. Everytime they come after me...I will play dead. So, in that way, to prepare them for the absence of life they will face if they puncture me with their midget butts. Perfect. 

Thought experiment. What if everytime we got angry or upset with someone, we could just turn a "horny" backside on them and injure them with some kind of human butt stinger? It would make life so much easier, and would, perhaps, make girls more assertive...

What's all this mumbo jumbo about anyways? I haven't ever been stung...although they come, they'll never catch me. I'm like a human ginger bread WOman. (knock on wood).