My daddy has these junk mail scattered all over his desk. I was looking through them, and there was one that had one of those fake credit-cards in them, y'know?
Well, I had this best friend a long time ago - at least five years ago. She lives in the neighborhood still, but we have totally lost touch. Well, when I was about seven or eight, I would go over to her house for
hours (literally - HOURS!) and I would bring all of my daddy's junk mail. She would have a pile of junk mail, and we would sit down at her kitchen table and open all of those letters.
I remember feeling really grown-up, sitting there, eating popcorn and opening letters. We would discuss the letters in British accents ("They spelled my last name wrong!" "Oh my - they say if I call them, I could get fifteen per-cent off on car in-shure-eence. What's car in-shure-eence?") and pretend to have tea parties.
Sigh. Can't help but miss those days.
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Anyways, I had to go to the doctor this morning to check my hemoglobin, or something like that. The doctor sent me to the lab to get my blood tested - that was a warning flag for me. While my momma and I were waiting outside the lab, I asked her (full of apprehension) if they would have to prick my finger. (I
hate that sort of stuff)
"No, it'll be a little bit bigger than that," she replied, picking up a magazine.
"WHAT?! What do you mean, a little bit bigger than that?!"
She didn't reply.
"Needles?!" I demanded.
"Uh...yeah. They'll put a needle into your blood vessel. It won't hurt that much."
Before I had time to thoroughly think that over and get freaked out, the lab-woman came. I sat in one of those big chairs and sure enough, she made me push my sleeve up to my elbow, found my blood vessel in the crook of my arm, and stuck a long needle in there. (In reality, it wasn't
that long - but any needle is freaky, right?)
There was a pinch, and then the can attached to the needle began to rapidly fill up with blood. Despite my nausea, I was honestly fascinated. She filled up four cans with my dark ruby blood, and then cut a little gash into my other arm to see how long it would take me to stop bleeding.
Every fifteen seconds, the lab-woman would scrape a piece of paper across the gash to soak up the blood. That hurt. It took eight minutes for the wound to stop bleeding - the longest eight minutes of my life.
I was so glad to get out of there - believe me.
SO glad. ^_^
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When we got home, my younger siblings were playing a board game with my younger cousin (who is over for the day). They were so cute - all playing together happily. (Peter is the one with glasses, Abby the gal, and Matthew the one with the blue shirt.)
As I write this, Peter
(younger brother) and Matthew (cousin) are playing basketball around me - sometimes chucking the ball at me just to see how I'll react.
A few minutes ago, Peter accidently bumped Mat into the wall, and Mat got a big bruise. I was concerned that Mat was going to blow up at Peter or something. Peter shouted:
Mat! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you into the wall!
Mat replied (after about thirty seconds of groaning):
Hey, Pete, that's okay. It's okay, Pete. Let's start the game over. Let's start over. Ouch. Come on, Pete.
It was so cute - isn't it amazing how forgiving they are?
(They're both eight years old - and great friends. It's so cute to see them together. :)
And Mat totally forgot about what happened - even though he has a bruise the size of a baseball on his back!
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Oh, and one more thing. Peter and Ab were blowing bubbles yesterday afternoon - just gotta show you the cute pictures I got. :)
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