Quarantined.

Minnesota just confirmed my sneaking suspicion that it holds a whole lot of magic. Not the type of magic that shows up for the night, fights off the evil of the world "real quick" with a whole lot of instant cures, and makes it back home for dinner and this week's re-run of Seinfeld.

Naw, I'm referring to the kind of magic that has been hard at work for longer than my time here (a measly two decades...) never lazing out, never giving up on the latest mission. It's composed of a double-dose of the potion "Intensity" (the, 'found-within-all-types-of-relationships,' kind of intensity) mixed with a hair of "Integrity" (same brand as that used when committed to longevity of any kind), topped with some "Faith-In-Humankind" (a perspective which can be gained in most life experiences near you), and left to steep in the cauldron for however long it takes to cultivate some kind of magical energy that possesses something of substance, something of love.

It seemed like there was divinity at work which got me to Minneapolis this weekend. As I was leaving work Thursday night, bragging about going home, a coworker (Shawn) mentioned that he would be headed to his homeland (St. Cloud) shortly after me. I joked about him seeing me on the side of the road, as my little mercury sable (aka The Black She-Devil) has had its share of mishaps. An hour later, I came to find out my rear brakes were entirely out; metal-grinding-on-metal out. I took a moment (or two) for my "frustration dance," had a laugh, and made a call to Shawn, kindly asking for a ride to Minnesota...

I rolled into Minneapolis late that Thursday night, took a deep breath of that energy which is so unique to this particular city, and proceeded to spend 3+ days with some of the world's finest human beings--with whom I fed my soul, my belly, and my now very tender heart.

The weekend was filled with a series of side-splitting laughs, frustratingly bona fide kisses, and many lucrative conversations, all strung together with fairly inconsequential moments like bubble baths in my brothers' claw-foot tub, sippin' delicious French Press coffee with Barnabas, Judah and Brandon, and staying up way too late, trying to keep up with the city-slickers.

Retrospectively, I suppose it's not fair to deem the latter set of activities as inconsequential;who am I to decide what is significant in life and what's not? We'll call em' all equal, assume each moment of the weekend contributed to it being a wholesome and necessary chunk of 86-ish hours of my life, and call it a day.

Ehhh, but not quite. Wake up Tuesday morning. First full day back in Des Moines, first full day reunited with Bekah and Ava and Gold's Gym and these slow-ass yahoos that call themselves drivers in Iowa (insert Iowa joke here). The energy as we deeply prepare to welcome Everett Dre into our world is thick, and pulsating in and around our house. I am excited and happy and at peace once again with what the day ahead of me offers...

...hOld up! what is this--sore throat? Yep. Did I not have a cold for the last two weeks of November? Am I really due already to get sick again? No. But alas, it is now Wednesday, I have just returned from the doctor's office, and indeed, I have strep.

I am to be quarantined in the attic for the next two days. No work, no interaction with my family below me, hell it even hurts to sing. My room is now an infirmary. I'm cursing the world for immobilizing me.

Ma' encouraged me to take some medicine (first time in my LIFE this has happened, and will probably ever happen). Anyone who knows me well, or knows anyone in my family, knows our stance on medicine. We're different, holistic if you want to call it that, and we generally let our bodies heal themselves. In the words of my eldest brother, "we have the immune systems of horses."

Clearly, not true. I'm ill. I'm contagious. I'm an untouchable...for the next 48 hours at least.

With the circumstances--a baby whose due date is today, a two-year-old who loves to open mouth kiss me, and a sister that needs all her strength to bring said baby into the world without any problems--I'm going to take the medicine. I feel a little bad, I hope my body doesn't feel too belittled, but apparently this medicine will simply make me less contagious, sooner. So it's for the greater good.

Do I think the ends always justify the means? No. Definitely not. But for today, they do.

So here I go, takin' some antibiotics. Theoretically weakening my natural body. Theoretically giving my immune system a crutch that it doesn't really need. Ok, I digress... I'm being a twit.

I'll probably be back soon, as I have nowhere to go...