Beach Hop

As I mentioned in my previous post, our ward was split last Sunday.  In two.  Right down the middle (kind of).  It didn't come as a surprise, since our ward has been so big that the seats are full to the back of the cultural hall every Sunday.  We knew it was inevitable, but that doesn't make it easy.  The biggest news for our family was that Billy-my-hero was called to be the bishop (which I internally pronounce "beach hop" thanks to a foreign exchange student I knew in my ward as a youth) of the new ward.  I should have seen it coming, with all the ruckus going on around here.  I chalk it up to Satan and his minions.  Trying to break us down.

Take yesterday, for example.

I subbed at the elementary school for what was supposed to be an hour, but turned into two.  As I glanced at my phone on the way home, I saw I had missed not-a-few communications in various forms.

Mar had broken her glasses at school.

I had forgotten to drop off the locker tags to the mom who was going to hang them.  I had stayed up until midnight the evening before making them so that they would be ready for her in the morning.  Ooops.  Epic flail.

Lex needed some instruction on a write-up she had promised to work on in exchange for my excusing her from a class at school, making what I had hoped would be a productive class-skipping, somewhat un.

And I had a very long voice message AND a very long text (broken into about four parts) about a musical number for the Teacher Appreciation dinner I'm in charge of in a couple of weeks (stressful all on it's own).

I took care of what I could take care of, then turned my focus on the other pressing matters of the day:
laundry and dishes.

That afternoon, I felt my unfortunate facial dermatitis (the doctor's generic term for I-don't-have-a-clue-what-it-is) flare up (I'm sure it's stress-induced), so I found my prescription and popped a pill around 5 pm, feeling frustrated that I have to deal with this little affliction at least twice a year.  Around 6, as I was quickly sending an email to co-locker-tag parents, the palms of my hands started itching like none other.  Then my tongue started to feel puffy and fat.  Suddenly (and I do mean suddenly), I broke out into massive amounts of hives all over my body.  My nose and lips started to swell.  I had never had a reaction like it before in my life.  Bill, only home for minutes between work and church, wasn't quite sure how to help, but grabbed the phone to call the doctor.  Then, for whatever reason, he thought maybe if he called 911, they could tell him IF it was an emergency or not.  When he mentioned it to me, I told him NOT to call, but it was too late.  He had dialed.  Within minutes we had a policeman at our door.  Then another.

They called the Fire and Rescue in.  With sirens.  Before I knew it, I was surrounded by half a dozen strange men, smelling like they had just finished (or were they in the middle of?) a strongly seasoned dinner, standing around watching me scratch.  

(Thanks for the pics, Rebecca)

Long story short, they encouraged me to go to the ER, and even offered to take me in the ambulance (seriously).  I thought it was all a ginormous over-reaction.  I declined, and told them that Bill and I would drive over to the hospital on our own.  By the time we were close, the itching had lessened (thanks to a hefty dose of Benadryl, I'm sure), and we decided to turn around and head home.  Drama over.

Or so I thought.

Bill headed off to the church for his meeting and I started to make dinner.  I put a pan on the stove, added a pat of butter, turned the burner on... then went into the office to send an email (what was I thinking?).  I'm pretty sure I had forgotten about the butter the instant I turned my back on the stove.
Next thing I know, my kitchen looks and smells like this:

Only Mar and I were home, so she grabbed the birds and the dogs and headed into the backyard.  I opened every door and window in the house, and turned on every fan.

"The good thing is:"

(thanks to a great talk at New Beginnings on Tuesday)

my house did NOT burn down

I did NOT have to call the Fire and Rescue dudes back

the birds did not die (thank you, Billats, for hosting them last night)

the dogs did not die

no one was seriously injured

my rash has gone away

 and I didn't waste a boatload of moo-lah on an ambulance ride OR an ER visit.

The older girls, who had been at a school event all evening, couldn't believe they had missed so much excitement.  I'm just praying for a better day today.  So far, so good.