Can't Sleep . . . Let the Ranting Begin . . .

It's back.
My cold.
The aches, the pains, the self-suffocation on mucus/cement walls in my nostrils.
I have turned into a mouth breather. Gaaaaaah.

And I can't go to sleep. I'm sitting here, knowing I should be exhausted . . . and I'm not. And I'm up at the crack of dawn to educate over-energized six-year-olds of epicly adorable proportions. To quote one of my students, "Mrs. Bocchino, my brain hurts."
Yes, mine does, too.

The miracle is that Chris doesn't seem even remotely affected by my germs. Not even a teeny tiny bit.He just babies me while I fake near-death-experiences in a mountain of tissues. Such a wonderful man to put up with my theatrics.

Oh and the cats are finally healthy. They've been to the vet at least once a month for the past three months thanks to kitty viruses. No, it doesn't sound serious . . . if Navi's eye had not swelled shut, I probably would not have noticed. Poor kitty . . . we called her "Squints."  I don't know if they'll ever forgive me for the eye and ear drops. Oi. I'm just glad I get to keep money in the bank for a while instead of dishing it out to the animal medical field (even though I loooove our vet, really and truly :) Great peeps).
Now we get to start dishing out money to the car repair shop . . . just an oil change, though . . . Lord willing.

Grace Fellowship (now Grace Orlando . . . for some reason I'm not in on), is starting a series on Genesis, my favorite book of the Bible. Love our pastor. I'm also signed up for a monthly women's Bible study starting in October.

First anniversary is a week from Sunday. Woooooow, can't believe it. It's been pretty awesome. Chris and I have planned a romantic weekend away on Sanibel Island. Turns out, the hotel we're staying in is the one my mom used to stay in every summer when she was growing up. Chris used to spend all of his childhood summers in Sanibel, as well, and has told me fantastic stories about fishing and fireworks, the classic summertime fun of beached childhoods. I love places with history :)
I've never been to Sanibel, and have wanted to go for years but never got the chance. The one year I was supposed to go, I woke up a couple of days before the trip with the WORST pink eye EVER. I looked like Quasimodo plus pus. You see, I had just come back from a missions trip in Managua, Nicaragua, where there had been a city-wide epidemic of pink eye. Most (if not all) the boys and men in our group were contaminated, but I was uber fastidious with hand washing and sanitizer like a good little hypochondriac and made it the entire trip without infection. Flying home, I was sitting in an aisle seat beside an infected, and another infected (my current bro-in-law, actually lol) across the aisle asked me to pass the eye drops. It was the ONE TIME I didn't remember my sanitizer. The next day, I was a deformed, pus-y mess. So I called my friend (my now sis-in-law  . . . wow, we were all connected even then haha) in tears telling her I couldn't go with her to Sanibel because I was sick and I didn't want her to get "Nicaraguan Pink-Eye." I don't know if it was ever really classified by that name, but I've called it that ever since. If you find especially disgusting pinkeye, I'd venture to say it's the Nicaraguan strain. Trust me. All that to say . . . I'm going to Sanibel next weekend with my hubby, our last getaway as newlyweds. Whoot!

Ok, now I'm really going to try to get some sleep to fight this vile cold. BLECH!!!