I'm not driving the bitter bus, I took a ride on it.

I took a short ride on the bitter bus. It's probably obvious by my previous post. I think the dollar hot dogs at PETCO park this weekend helped me get over it. There were fireworks at the Padres game and they could easily be the coolest fireworks I've seen. But most of the time I was rubbing my eyes because we were so close to the fireworks I had debris in them. James and Jo were down this weekend and they turned the living room into a sweat shop where they employed everyone to make their wedding favors. It was fun times and Daniel even joined in which made David ask, "Why don't you date him? He helped make boxes." I guess that's all it should take.

I had to work a few hours on Sunday, the National Council of La Raza had their convention in San Diego this week. It wasn't anything spectacular, I would have rather been across the street at PETCO eating dollar hot dogs for the second day in a row. Obama was there though...didn't see or hear him. McCain was there yesterday...didn't see or hear him.

Last night it hurt to breathe deep, so my entire work out with Andrew was not only painful because I had to do one legged Romanian lunges (he makes up these names, I'm sure of it.) but because when I took a deep breath I had this pain in my back and my side. I was concerned enough to mention the pain to him and he said, "It's probably just your spleen." Oh good, only my spleen. Do I need my spleen to live? I woke up this morning to head to the gym but it still hurt. I took that as a sign I needed to sleep in. I'm pretty sure this is the beginning of a Lupus-Lyss flare. My eyes were dry and blurry, my fingers were purple and my spleen hurt. Sometimes I forget I'm living with a chronic illness, I just take my pills in the morning and at night but it doesn't set in until mornings like this one.