I Feel the Earth Move

Today I visited Disney's Hollywood Studios while vacationing in Disney World. It was my first time to Hollywood Studios and I was eager to check out its American Idol Experience. Upon arriving at the park, I begged my family to indulge me with a stop at the American Idol auditions.


Here I am in the Coke lounge choosing my songs. I went with Carole King's I Feel the Earth Move and also took on Heart's Alone. My performance of I Feel the Earth Move was good enough to get me into the 5:00 show.


Rehearsing before the show.


Being introduced with the other contestants: Paula, a pregnant former cruise-ship singer and Justin, a 17-year-old who performs in show choir (but says his life is not like Glee).


To vote for me, the 800+ people in the audience had to push button number 1.


The teenage girls in the audience voted Justin through to the show's finale later in the day.


While Justin waited around to do another show, I got to have fun in the park.


My dad, who also auditioned, was pretty proud of me. That added to the fun of the day.

You're so Vein

This morning was a perfect morning to sleep in—a midweek day off from work, rain and wind blowing outside. Instead, I woke up at 6:15 to hit the gym, knowing it would be my last chance to exercise for a couple days. Today was the culmination of a process I began seven months ago—getting varicose veins removed from my left leg.

My friend Emily dropped me off at the doctor’s office and I moved very quickly from waiting room to surgical table. The nurses were awesome, as they have been throughout the process. They were very thorough in answering my questions. I asked about returning to my regular exercise routine and the head nurse told me there would be no cardio classes or running for the next two weeks, not even an elliptical! At times, I swear she was reading my mind. I would be thinking, “I don’t need to take ibuprofen” and she would say, “Even if you’re not in pain, you have to take ibuprofen for inflammation and you have to take it with food.” Then I would think, “I won’t be eating much because I won’t be burning many calories,” and she would say, “And not just a handful of crackers—meals!”

The atmosphere in the operating room was very relaxed. I was surprised and disappointed that it wasn’t fraught with drama like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Dr. Todd has a well-stocked iPod that he plays while he works and he takes requests. He graciously indulged me with some Bruce Springsteen, which led him to telling stories of his first encounters with the Boss’s music in college. He continued to wax nostalgic about his college days and the guys he knew when. As I suspected, Dr. Todd had a lively young adulthood. And though I trust his work, there was something a little strange about hearing my doctor describe himself as a “dumb redneck” while threading an IV through my thigh.

The anesthetic kept me from feeling what was going on, although I was very aware of Dr. Todd pulling veins out of my leg. Think about pulling the seam out of a garment. I was angled on the table so that my head was closer to the ground and my legs were elevated, so I couldn’t see anything that was going on, which is probably for the best. Meanwhile, Dr. Todd and the nurses were talking about Thomas Jefferson and the John Adams mini-series. (You mean doctors don't talk about affairs and love triangles during surgery? Have the Grey's doctors been perpetrating a lie all these years?) The worst part of the procedure was that about an hour into it I had to go to the bathroom. How is it that, when I’m teaching, I can hold it for six hours at a time while drinking 2 liters of water?

After the nurses mummified my left leg and cut me out of my paper shorts, I was able to get dressed and limp off to the bathroom. From there, I maneuvered into the back of Emily’s car and headed home for the hard part: taking it easy and allowing my body to recover. Another of life’s ironies: when I have so much to do, all I want to do is lay on the couch. When I am ordered to lay on the couch, I can think of 100 things I want to do!

Deep Enough to Dream

Lately a lot of things I’ve listened to or read have mentioned Heaven. Heaven is usually a fleeting thought for me, as in, “Heaven will be better than getting up before dawn and going to the gym.”

But as I was driving to church on Sunday I was listening to Chris Rice’s Deep Enough to Dream, and this lyric, “Deep enough to join a billion people for a wedding feast…” gave me pause. The thought that came to me was, “Ugh. I hate crowds. That’s going to be awful.” This thought was quickly followed by, “WHAT??!?!?” So I began thinking about how, in Heaven, I will not have my claustrophobia/discomfort in crowds, because I won’t have to fear people trampling me, because there is no trampling in Heaven.

I couldn’t get my head around it, so I went on to another incomprehensible thought: in Heaven, I won’t be plagued by this icky, sinful nature of mine. Right now, my sin is so familiar to me; I don’t even know it’s there unless someone/something brings it to light. It’s kind of like this pain in my legs—try and follow me here, I know it’s a stretch. Because of the varicose veins in my legs, they have been hurting for over a year. The whole time I’ve been running and taking zumba classes, I have done it with pain in my legs, but I am not aware of the pain. It’s something I am used to and have managed to live with. Next week, one set of veins will be gone and I will experience what not-hurting legs feel like and I can’t imagine it. It’s been so long since I felt normal; I have forgotten what normal feels like. In the same way, I’ve never been without sin, so I can’t imagine what a day-to-day existence without sin (mine or other people’s) will be like. But, just like I believe my legs will feel better, I believe my life in Heaven will be better.

One more thought about Heaven. I read today how, in Heaven, Jesus is going to reveal a special name to me—a name for me that’s just between me and Him. I hope it’s a really cool Irish name, like Siobhan.