Damned beer drinkers

Pop quiz: what is the doctrinal reason for Mormons not drinking alcohol?

1. They believe they will be damned if they drink alcohol.
   
2. They don't like the taste.
   
3. They have been brainwashed into believing that the act of alcohol drinking is evil and that even a single, accidental sip of the vial liquid will destroy their soul.
   
4. They don't actually know why – they just don't do it for fear of not getting a temple recommend or being excommunicated from the church.
   
5. They believe in the promise of the Word of Wisdom which states that if they don't drink it (among other things) they will be healthy, and have energy and a clear mind that is able to gain wisdom.
   
6. All of the above.
   

If the question were "Why don't Mormons drink alcohol?"… then the answer would probably be "6. all of the above." But, the doctrinal answer is 5.

It is not really about good vs. bad, it is not really about holy vs. evil, it is not really about heaven vs. hell. It is about health. The specific scripture says – eat fruits and vegetables, eat whole grains, limit meat intake, exercise, and avoid coffee, tea, alcohol, tobacco and other drugs. There really isn't any voodoo or even dictatorship from Deity. It is a "word of wisdom" about how to care for our bodies and mind. And, most health nuts and/or health care providers would agree that this a recipe for food consumption success.

Why the pop quiz? While at work yesterday a pharmacy technician went on a rant about how "God doesn't care if you drink alcohol or not" and "when I die I refuse to believe that God will ask me if I drank alcohol, and if I say 'yes' he will sent me straight to hell." After several minutes of eavesdropping I found out he was talking about the darned Mormons.

This is funny because he inappropriately characterized the doctrine of the Plan of Salvation, our understanding of heaven and hell, and then argued that the whole religion was ludicrous based on this "commandment" alone.

To this man I say, you are right – God will not damn you for drinking alcohol; in fact, he will be unlikely to "damn" you for most of your silly decisions, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't respect our bodies and strive to be better each day. Secondly, God will not ask you if you drank alcohol or not. He knows. He will judge you on all of your decisions, how you loved/served your fellow man, and whether or not you lived up to your potential and individual responsibility (based on your understanding and circumstances).

For the purposes of foreshadowing my core beliefs, the judgments of God are relative but not permissive. Therefore, the mere act of alcohol consumption will not damn you.

But wouldn't it be a good idea to not drink it anyway?

Yes. The answer is yes.

In terms of a risk/benefit analysis, the risks include, but are not limited to: disinhibition with resultant poor decisions/ lack of judgment, addiction potential with resultant poor decisions/self (and family) destructive behavior, liver failure with varices, ascites, jaundice, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and death. Do these happen to everyone… no. But, why risk it?

You risk it because the benefits outweigh the risks.

So, the benefits include…? Feeling relaxed in social situations? … hum… anything else?

Now. Here's my question… Why is alcohol so important? SERIOUSLY! What is so precious about alcohol that it sends people into a tailspin when they hear that a group of people CHOOSES not to drink it? Why are people so compelled by it that they rant and rave at the very thought that a religion would counsel against its use? As far as I am concerned, even outside of religion, it would be wise to avoid it.

Attention "alcohol drinkers of my blogging community" I ask you … What makes alcohol so important?

11/24 @ 8:51 am: Wednesday burst of inspiration - Looks like they are the ones drinking the Kool-Aid...

Reminiscing

Husband and I were reminiscing and read my (very limited) previous posts.

And, I will have you know, that just moments ago... he ADMITTED to selectively doing his own laundry and leaving mine in the basket.

He believes it was unintentional.
I believe he is a liar.

Just in case any of you were keep score: Brandon 0 vs. Megan 1 (and probably many more in the future).

Like sands in the hourglass... these are the babies of our lives

I have encountered many types of babies in the last few weeks, and I would like to tell you about them...

I met a:

Blue baby
I am on rotation on the Newborn ICU this month (and a half). We just had a baby born that was blue. Really blue. Ok. Maybe slightly purple. Not breathing. Not moving. Mom was crying/screaming in pain. And, baby was still blue. The NICU nurses went to work - on this little tiny person: suction, pump air, suction, roll over and pat, suction, pump air, pump air again. Then, like a chameleon, she turned pink/red and let out the most pathetic sound. For one split moment the room was silent... then mom said, "is that her?" and I cried. She's doing great. She's beautiful with a big head of hair. Things I learned right after this moment...
A) It hurts more to deliver the placenta than the baby (gross) and B) I never want a blue baby. But if I ever get one, I hope it makes pathetic sounds.

Hairy baby
Turns out that premature babies are hairy. Not just a little hairy either. They have 0.5" blonde (and sometimes black) hair all over their bodies.And, if they are young enough their eyes are still sealed shut (like puppies). This is just an interesting fact. There is no story. But, if you have a preemie... don't be alarmed when it's hairy. But, I would recommend being alarmed if... A) their bowels are on the outside of their body or B) they have a cleft palate or C) the doctors are alarmed.

Blood-filled-cyst baby
As many of you know, I am having another Bertha AND a Stephen. One of you has asked what exactly it is like... so, here is my explanation:
A) They hurt. Sometimes it is a throbbing pain, sometimes it is a cramping pain, and sometimes it feels like the incredible hulk reaching inside my lower abdomen, grabbed a fist of whatever he could get his hands on, and then gave it an indian rug burn. My pain rating scales for the last 24 hours are as follows: 1/10, 3/10, 8/10, 8/10, 8/10, 4/10, 1/10.
B) They look bad. Yes, it is true, Stephen (on the left) is twice the size of Bertha (on the right). If you ever have the pleasure of looking down my anterior side (from my perspective), you will literally see that the left side protrudes more than the right. And my pants are tightish (on top of being slightly obese).
C) They are routinely called "that bitch" and "that bastard." This is probably inappropriate, and it definitely alarmed my doctor when I shook my fist at them and called them these names during my last ultrasound.


Babies without names
Emily is 33 weeks pregnant. With two! Two! TWO! babies. She just sent updated pictures of her big, fat belly. Geez, I cannot wait to meet these babies. Her inability to settle on acceptable names has led Husband and I to come up with a list of our own. Now, in the advent that I procreate, I expect that none of you use these names without my permission... because I would prefer that they were saved for me.

Ready, set, go:
Girls
1. Margot
2. Sylvie
3. Charlotte
4. Maris
5. Adelaide
6. Nora
7. Adele

Boys
1. Simon
2. Roarke
3. Finn
4. Miles
5. Pierce
6. Redd
7. Hans

... oh, and Husband and I (might) actually make one of those. Especially because it is doctor recommended*... Husband approved** -- Details will be withheld for the sake and sanity of others. We have planned our strategy, rehearsed our tactics, and plan to implement sometime next summer.

*It will reduce the severity and recurrence of Berthas. However, it may not be possible.
**He agreed once. Retracted. Reconsidered. Might agree again.

The mysterious case of 4 vs 32

It's the weirdest thing. Truly the weirdest.

Husband and I do laundry whenever it suits us... usually when one of us runs out of naked clothes (underwear). Every time I do the laundry (since I have no idea what happens when he does the laundry) the numbers just don't add up -- after 4 loads (whites, colors, darks, towels), the score goes something like this:

Brandon 4 vs. Megan 32 (minus socks and naked clothes)

How is it possible? Laundry day was approximately 8 days ago. I reuse and recycle pants like the best of them -- He insists that he doesn't wear his clothes more than twice. Yet, apparently, he's been wearing the same two shirts and two pants for... Or was he?

Today was the day. We had a little chat... I presented my evidence = piles of my clean clothes against a background of one yellow Brandon shirt, one brown Brandon shirt, and a pair of Brandon jeans. Speechless he stuttered ...

"I don't know honey..."
I pressed harder...
"This scenario is truly impossible. Do you just clean your clothes and leave mine in the basket?"
"No. I don't think so."
"What do you mean 'I don't think so'? You either did or you didn't"
"Do you think I selectively wash my clothes and neglect yours?"
"Yes. That is precisely what I think. Why do you keep doing that?"
" What exactly are you accusing me of?"
"I just want to know why you won't clean my clothes."

Problem = not yet settled. He contests that when he does the laundry he does all of it... I am on to him, though. One false move and he'll have no naked clothes to hide behind...

Ramblings of an Incoherent Fool

Fantastic.
I intend on writing a funny blog.
But, everything floating around in my head is a big blur of stress -- I have avoided writing because I cannot even formulate funny thoughts...
1. Mama moved out.
2. Residency apps are in and now I get to wait to be judged.
3. I am tired of working 56 days on and getting 1 off.
4. Boston is EATING my house (couch, quilts, etc).
5. Duncan is sick -- he's got the shivers.
6. I have already been at work for 14 hrs today... two more to go.
7. Fat. Seriously.

But, then, Husband and I are having fun. We have this ridiculous "aerogarden" -- We are growing herbs (basil, chives, and thyme) in water -- on our counter. We squish ourselves into our bed every night -- somewhere in between two dogs and wake up all tangled up together. We have Saturday mornings at the park together (in the snow -- brrrrrr). I kicked his butt on Ticket to Ride in Europe... I had to... He invited a jerk into my home -- the jerk needed to be humbled. A 50-car long track did just the trick -- "humble the jerk" mission status: complete.

So...
To save sanity...
Two things:
1. Husband got me voice lessons for Christmas! I am finally going to learn to sing and not sound like I am just kidding around the whole time.
2. Vanessa Maria and I are going to take an aerobic belly dancing class... starting January 14th.

Now... Husband will not be able to resist this blubber rolling, booty shaking, serenading masterpiece that is his wife.

Maybe at my graduation party I will perform a little something. GRADUATION... 18 weeks away... That is 126 days! What? No?!? Really? -- Indeed. Then, I will take a month off.

So. This concludes my "rambling to gather thoughts and make myself feel better" entry.

Next time -- expect to laugh.

Love,
Dr. Megan Evans (prefix anticipated to be correct: May 7, 2010 -- God bless it).