So in the last episode of “I Am the Giraffe” I was wondering WWQD (What Would Quincy Do) regarding my illness, which was at odds with my desire to practice for my clogging performance on Saturday. Practice or rest. Rest or practice. I decided to rest. I’ve been resting. I have not practiced, except in my head. Practicing in one’s head is important. It can also be useful, provided you don’t make any mistakes in your head. When you keep making the same mistakes over and over in your head, it can affect what your feet do the next time they have the floor, so to speak. Ha ha. That’s almost clever. But not quite. I’m still pretty sick, so I can’t really tell.

My kids are off school today. Mister Bubby is watching Quincy. Elvis and Girlfriend are printing things. With the printer. I haven’t really looked into exactly what. Princess Zurg is at a friend’s house, thank goodness. (If she were here, she’d be using my computer and I wouldn’t be able to write this blog.)

I’m getting ahead of myself. I was resting. I got up Thursday morning (that was yesterday, I think) and made everyone’s lunch and sent them to school, and Girlfriend was mercifully still asleep so that after PZ left I was able to lie down for some nap time. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite get to sleep until just as Girlfriend was waking up and coming downstairs and asking for breakfast. I made her breakfast and then asked her to please watch some Netflix or something while I got some sleep because by this time I really did have to sleep. You know how it is when you can’t sleep and then you suddenly can? How you suddenly must? That was the state I was in. So she was very cooperative and watched Netflix while I slept. All morning.

Until at some point I woke up long enough to wonder, “What time is it anyway?” knowing that Girlfriend would eventually need to eat lunch and get on the kindergarten bus. So I got up and went into the kitchen to look at the clock, and what do you know, it was 11:40 a.m. In case you’re wondering, the bus comes at 11:44 a.m. So that was exciting! Considering that she had not had lunch and we were both still in our pajamas. So okay. We didn’t make the bus, but I did feed her lunch and we both got dressed and I drove her to school, and we arrived at the exact same time the bus did. Then I drove away feeling like the worst mother in the world because I let Netflix babysit my six-year-old for two-and-a-half hours while I was passed out on the couch and she was almost late for school.

Except she WASN’T late for school. I was SICK and without having set an alarm, I just HAPPENED to wake up just in time to feed her lunch and get her to school RIGHT ON TIME. Which might just make me the BEST mother in the world.

At least not the worst.

So as long as I was up and about, I went to the 7-Eleven and got a Slurpee. That’s how sick I was, because I don’t even like Slurpees. It’s like drinking a popsicle, and I don’t like popsicles. But I knew I needed fluids, and I can’t drink water when I’m sick. At least not lots of it. So I got a Slurpee. I got a sugar-free Slurpee because the only thing I dislike more than Slurpees is consuming empty Slurpee calories. I have nothing against empty calories in theory. My rule is that I have to enjoy them, and if I’m not going to enjoy them, what’s the point? You might say, “But a sugar-free Slurpee is even worse than a regular Slurpee, so what’s the point?” I thought of that too, after I’d already bought the sugar-free Slurpee, but by then it was too late. And I also realized that I find every flavor of Slurpee revolting except for the Coca-Cola Slurpee, but the Coca-Cola Slurpee would have had caffeine in it, and did I really want to have caffeine when I was trying to rest? Not that caffeine has ever particularly compromised my ability to sleep, but what if it did? Then I would feel really stupid, and resent the calories all the more. No, the sugar-free Slurpee was the right decision.

Anyway, it wasn’t actually that bad. I drank almost the entire thing, which is pretty impressive for me and a Slurpee. (I really don’t care for them.) It was mango flavored. You’d think that would be an extra-big red flag, but no, it was really okay. Like a sick-day miracle.

Unfortunately, I was not able to sleep when I got home.

I took a shower, and after my shower I thought I would be able to sleep, but then our sitter dropped by the house and needed money, so I wrote her a check and she finally left, but then I still couldn’t sleep. But then I could, a little bit…almost…and then it was time to go pick the kids up from school, so never mind.

PZ had a field trip for her French class last night. They went to a French bistro downtown. Extra credit if they ordered the escargot. I went with her because it was easier than dropping her off and picking her up again. (Not cheaper, but easier. And you know which I prefer.) Anyway, PZ doesn’t need extra credit for French class, but she ordered escargot anyway because she’s adventurous that way. They served the escargot family style, so there wasn’t much to go around, which I felt was kind of a rip-off considering how much we were paying for dinner, but I understood that they probably didn’t want to prepare too much escargot for middle-school kids who were probably not going to eat any more of it than they absolutely had to. PZ had two snails. She loved them. One kid at our table ate his but did not opt for another. The other two girls at our table who were angling for extra credit took about 20 minutes to decide to take a bite. There was one snail left over, which they graciously let me have. I’d never had escargot before. It was pretty good. I was still glad I’d ordered the asparagus instead.

Eating escargot is really a mind-over-matter thing. They’re pretty small and not nearly as chewy as, say, tripe or even squid. Squid is nasty. After my experience eating raw squid in Japan, I don’t think I will ever touch it again, not even deep-fried. Gah, I can still taste it. Yuck. Escargot, on the other hand–pretty tasty.

I find foie gras a mind-over-matter food also. On the one hand, it’s delicious. On the other hand, it’s liver. It has to be prepared just so or it is impossible not to think about the fact that it is liver. Overstuffed liver that ducks suffered to prepare for you. Now there is guilt in addition to liver. Eat foie gras only at reputable eating establishments.

Tongue is another mind-over-matter food. I’ve had lengua tacos, and they were also delicious, but only so long as I could forget what I was eating. Really, now that I think about it, is this mind-over-matter, or matter-over-mind? I’m so confused.

Speaking of food, my husband and I are going out in honor of our anniversary (observed). At a fancy restaurant this time. (No Denny’s.) I am feeling well enough to taste food (as of last night’s French experience), so it ought to be okay. I am still taking care to rest. Typing doesn’t take too much out of me.

I am still clogging in my head, and there is one combination I can’t seem to get, no matter how hard I think about it. I hope it doesn’t affect my muscle memory.

Tomorrow morning my husband heads to California to help his mother pack up her house. I will be taking the light rail to the waterfront for the clogging performance. I hope I don’t get lost. I don’t think I will. It seems pretty straightforward. I would rather not travel alone. I didn’t used to be so nervous about traveling alone, but I have a thing about downtown Portland. It didn’t scare me when I lived there and just walked everywhere. Not even taking the bus scared me. I was eighteen and fearless, I guess. Actually, I wasn’t fearless at all, but I was young enough to think that whatever fears I had I just needed to get over because it’s not like you can live your whole life being afraid. At 41 I have come to realize that yeah, you pretty much can live your whole life being afraid. Not that you should, but you can. So I don’t treat my fears as things I necessarily need to get rid of. I’ve lived in the Portland suburbs for the last…almost nine years, and I’ve been downtown a hundred times, but I still don’t like going there. I don’t like driving there, more to the point. And I’m not crazy about the train, but taking the train is better than parking, which is half the stress–maybe three-quarters of the stress–of going downtown. So I’m taking the train, and I hope I don’t get lost. Because being lost downtown while sick would really suck.

Pray that it doesn’t rain tomorrow, gentle readers. Not in Portland, anyway. If you’re in some drought-ridden area and could use some precipitation, please feel free to take some of ours. I bequeath it to you.