First of all, I am seriously considering shutting down the writing (“WRITING”) side of the blawg and focusing instead on giving away household appliances.

It’ll be sort of like “The Price Is Right,” only every game will involve either diet Coke, fried chicken or reality television.

Come to think of it, maybe we should just all sit on a stage and eat fried chicken and drink diet Coke while reality television plays in the background and I click repeatedly on random.org to give away washers and Swiffer Wet Jets and dryers and so forth and so on.

Good. We have a plan. I’m glad that’s settled.

Second of all, this morning I went to get my shots for the Uganda trip, and quite frankly it is a wonder I even made it to my appointment. I was running late – something I hate WITH THE PASSION OF ONE MILLION FIERY SUNS – and my appointment was downtown, which might not seem like any sort of impediment to you, but oh, if you have ever ridden in a car with me, you know that going downtown is no fun at all.

You see, I tend to get a little bit turned around when I’m downtown. In fact, if you ever need to get downtown in a hurry, you’d be better off with a drunk, blindfolded donkey as your mode of transportation than you would with me behind the wheel.

I guess I just get nervous because there are A LOT OF MOVING CARS in a downtown area, y’all. Not to mention street signs and red lights. And pedestrians.

So I finally got to the travel clinic twenty-five minutes late (picture my big ole noggin, hanging in shame), and thankfully the nurse waited on me even though I had completely disrupted her lunch hour with all my tardy lateness.

Did I mention that I wasn’t on time?

When I finally sat down in the Nurse Jeanette’s office, we talked a little bit about where I was going and what vaccinations I’d need. She gave me all my instructions for my prescriptions, and then she asked if I was going to Uganda with a group.

When I told her yes, that I was going with Compassion International, she asked what I’d be doing when I got there.

[this is my attempt at replicating the awkward silence that followed her question]

[continued awkwardness]

[yay, even more awkwardness]

“Well,” I said, as I wriggled in my chair, “I’m going to see some of the relief work that’s going on over there so that then I can, um, wr-, wri-, write about it.”

I did, y’all. I totally used the W- word. WITH A STRANGER.

And then she said, “Oh? What kind of publication will you be writing for?”

At this point I wanted to ask her if THE WALLS WERE CLOSING IN ON HER, TOO, but instead I took a deep breath and said, “Well, have you ever heard of something called a blog? BecauseIhaveablog. Andthat’swhereI’llbewriting.”

If I had to guess what my heart rate was at that moment, I’d say it was an easy 320 beats per minute.

Honestly, it’s a wonder I continued to breathe.

But Nurse Jeanette and I actually ended up having a lovely conversation about faith and God’s provision, and at one point she actually used the tip of a needle to illustrate our smallness in relation to God’s vastness. I totally got goosebumps, and while I guess it’s feasible that the goosebumps were from the realization that THE NEEDLE, IT WILL SOON BE PUNCTURING MY DELTOID MUSCLE, I like to think it’s because Nurse Jeanette and I were having ourselves some church right there in the travel division of the health department.

When we finished with all our vaccination business, Nurse Jeanette recited a lovely blessing and pretty much made my day. Which is saying something considering that she was the same person who’d just given me four shots. With pointy needles.

And while I have vowed that I am not going to whine about the shots, because HEY, BIG DEAL, WOMAN, YOU’RE GROWN, SO DEAL, I would just like to say that, well, “YEEEEEEOW.”

And that is all.