Happy Monday, my sweet petunias! Here in Nicaragua they have a saying: "El lunes, ni las gallinas ponen," which roughly translates to "On Mondays, not even the hens lay eggs," a sentiment I embrace fully right now. So here's me, wishing you an egg-free Monday. Join with me, people, and lay no eggs today.
Oh, sigh, who am I kidding. I've got a million eggs to lay, and I'd better get started soon, or I'll have to lay twice as many on Tuesday, plus I'll have to deal with some pissed off farmers. Farmers? I think I'm taking this analogy too far now. I will stop.
So remember how on Thursday I said that, because I'd miraculously healed myself overnight from a grodie sickness AND managed to get some fantastic work done, AND go swimming, that I was a rock star? Actually, I believe that I said I was a ROCK STAR, all caps. Curses, Cheastypants. Why do you always go and jinx yourself? Naturally, having done all the amazing and wonderful and glamorous things that I did on Thursday, on Friday I had a relapse of the horrible-terrible-icky-poo-disease-o-rama. This relapse was pretty bad, and I ended up going to the emergency room in the afternoon, where they thought for a while I had dengue fever, which, thank-you-god, I do not have. But if you want to know what my horrible-terrible-icky-poo-disease-o-rama felt like, read the wiki site on dengue and it was sort of like that, all except the rash. It hurt. Anyway, they put me on a gurney and trundled me off to do some blood and urine tests, refused to give me a blanket even though I was FREEZING on account of how I had a 102 degree fever and the blanket would make my temperature rise. Is that true? Anyway, I lay there shivering and moaning for a while until the meds and IV goop they gave me started to kick in, at which point I conked out like a drunk on the street. Seriously, would an atom bomb have awoken me? Who knows. All I know is at one point a doctor came in a shook me awake, mumbled something about "virus," and "paracetamol," and then I fell back asleep. Eventually I woke up, wondered what had happened to the IV that used to be in my arm, and what the heck I was supposed to do now. So I got up, staggered out to the desk, blinked owlishly, and asked a nurse what I was supposed to do. Go home, she said. Well, first pay up. Then go home. Take lots of paracetamol for your virus (which virus? we'll never know) and get lots of rest. Ah. Ok, then.
Honestly, I really did have the best intentions of doing just that. And I have been pretty good about taking the drugs (he he), but this weekend was so completely chock-full of fun, interesting, and exciting things to do that I ended up not really resting at all, Mom please don't kill me. No, really, Mom. Here, let me tell you what was at stake, and then you decide if you would've had the will power to stay in bed, sweat lightly, and swat at mosquitos all weekend. First, Monica's 30th birthday party, followed by SALSA DANCING!! Come on, like you could say no to that. Then, a trip to cute little Masaya, a town about 30 km from Managua with wonderful artisan markets and p.s., today was their patron saint fiesta day and PAAAAARRRRRTTTYYYYYYYY!!!! Woo-hooo!! Every year on this date in honor of San Jeronimo (Geronimo is a saint? Who knew?) they have a huge really famous EQUESTRIAN PARADE!! Horses! Men and women in cool outfits! Bands playing! People dancing! Beer! IT'S ALL SO COOL! And last, I had tickets to the Ballet Folklórico tonight, at the national theater, which is a pretty posh place (even the bannisters are wrapped in red velvet, how about that for fancy) and the dances are spectacular and the music is wonderfully toe-tapping and hummable, and I already had the ticket so I just couldn't stay home. You understand, right? Right?
Hello? (*tap, tap*)
Just to get you through the day, here's my favorite picture I took this weekend. More pictures and detailed stories of the weekend to follow. Off to catch some zees now.