Sweet Sweat

I am a sweater -- not a soft, furry, warm thing to wrap around you. I'm talking about a dripping down my face, wet underarms sweater. I've always been a sweater. In high school, I didn't have an air conditioner in my car (in West Texas), and I had vinyl seats. I used to drive to school leaning forward off of the seat back so that my shirt would not show my sweaty back. After all, women aren't supposed to sweat -- we're supposed to "glisten."

I have been doing Bikram Yoga lately which I love because it embraces my sweatiness. We do yoga in a room that is maintained at 105 degrees, and sweating is highly encouraged. This, though, is one of the few times that sweatiness is a good thing.

In my last blog entry, I mentioned that I have started taking care of an older gentleman in his home. I went to his home to meet him and his wife as part of the interview process. I was a little nervous, their house was a little warm, and it was 101 degrees outside -- elements of a perfect storm for a sweater.

As we talked, I first felt my underarms getting hot. Of course, I had worn a cotton shirt that showed sweat. We stood up to go and look at something, and I felt a trickle of sweat go down the backs of my knees. Then I felt a spring of water sprout on my back. So, as I stood up, I realized that not only did I have big sweaty rings under my arms, but now I also had a lovely stripe of sweat going down my back, and I probably had little creases on my khakis behind my knees where the sweat had started.

They hired me. Amazingly, after all that sweating, they hired me. I can imagine the conversation after I left:

"She seems like a nice girl," the wife said.

"Mmm hmm," the husband answered.

Then there would have been silence until one of them said, "A bit of a sweater."

Then they would have both nodded and shaken their heads, in pity. But eventually the worry would have been overcome as they would have said, "But she'll be okay. We can't hold that against her."

I'm sweating a little right now just thinking about it.

Hey, I wonder if anyone is willing to pay money for sweat...

Selling My Body

My one desire in life is to stay home and raise my children. Okay, so that's a bit dramatic -- maybe not my one desire. I want to go to Antarctica, I want to go up in a hot air balloon, I want to get a book published. But I really, really love being a stay-at-home mom.

In order to stay home with my kids, I have to figure out a way to pay for my sons' college (yes, plural). I have two in college now. I am terrified of working full-time as a nurse, and I have not become the rich and famous writer that I dream of being, so I have to get a bit creative. Nothing illegal, just creative.

A friend of mine suggested that I write about some of these things. I think she thinks I'm a little crazy.

One of the things I do is get on focus groups. You know those people with the clipboards in the mall who want to know your opinion that you avoid eye contact with? Well, I walk up to them. I've made a few bucks here and there by giving my opinion on things like mounting tape and razors. It's kind of fun, and I've gotten really good at telling people exactly what I think. The pay varies, but if I actually get chosen to be on a focus group, I can make around $100 for a few hours of talking.

A month ago I entered a brain study. I did a bunch of memory tasks while the examiner did an MRI of my brain. $30 an hour. Not bad. I even got $10 to spit in a tube. I told the pastoral assistant at my church that I was selling my body. She shook her head. She knows me well.

I heard there was another study going on that they pay participants $10 a test tube for blood. I'm trying to get into that one. I wonder how many tubes they need... I think I heard the name of the study group was DraculaInc. Does that sound suspicious??

Now I'm going to help take care of an older gentleman one day a week. Yeah, it's actually nursing. But I don't think it's going to be scary. There are no open wounds and nobody is in labor.

I wonder how much I would get for donating plasma? Isn't that one of those things they pay you for? What about a kidney?

You know, things would be alot easier if I would just win the lottery...

Athena

The newest member of the zoo is a cute little kitten that we named Athena. It's a big name for such a little cat, but it fits her because Athena was the Goddess of War.
My mom, God love her, likes to sugar-coat. When she asked us to take this sweet little kitten that had wandered up to their barn, we asked her if she was friendly.
"Oh, yes. She comes right up and brushes up against me and talks all the time. She's so sweet," she said.
This was great! We already had two cats: Rocket and Abbie. Rocket is very playful -- overly playful. My son used to have scratch marks all over his hands from the cat attacking him. The cat is not scared of anything, and he sits lovingly on our laps. But I always feel like I need to warn people who want to pet him, "He bites." And if it is a neighbor kid who is getting especially affectionate, I sometimes add, "He'll rip off your arm and use it as a toothpick, so be careful." That usually gives them a suitable amount of caution. Abbie, the other cat, is not really even our pet. We call her "The Ghost Cat." We only see her when she wants to eat. Even then, if she sees one of us, she jets out of there like someone just lit her tail on fire. Anyway, we were looking forward to a sweet, friendly cat that didn't make us feel like we were taking our lives into our hands every time we touched her.
Athena is a beautiful cat. When we first saw her, we were so excited. She was cowering in the corner of her cage that my parents had transported her in. We knew she was a little scared from the trip to our house, so we just figured her eagerly-awaited friendliness would become apparent. She growled at us, but we knew this was normal behavior for a stressed cat. We just opened the door to allow her come out whenever she was ready -- which we were certain would be soon, of course, because she was so friendly!
Well, she got out of her cage and found her food bowl. But she was still growling. My mom said, "Oh, isn't that cute. She's talking."
"Mom, she's growling," I said.
"Oh, I don't think that's growling. She makes this cute little noise all the time. I think she's just talking."
I love my mom. She has such an optimistic point of view.
Athena has lived with us for a month now. She is still "talking." Matter of fact, she pretty much "talks" all the time. She mixes it in with a purr now and then, but she even growls while she's eating (it sounds like a low, guttural "Nom, nom, nom, nom.") She is friendly, though, while she growls. And she's friendly while she terrorizes our other cats. And she's friendly while she marks her territory on our clean clothes and on my husband's computer bag. Yes, she's friendly.
But darn it, she's a cute cat. And she is getting better. Matter of fact, she was just sitting on my lap. You know, maybe she really is talking. :)