Making choices -- and "Taking Chances"

We all do things that make perfect sense in our own heads. Whether others think we're insane is another story. But, to paraphrase one of my favorite quotes, we make choices in every moment of our lives -- and we have to live with them.

Like the choice to go 300 miles for a football game even though I was coughing up mucus in shades of the opposing team's school colors. (For the record, I mean green and yellow; if it was red, I doubt I'd still be alive.) Yes, I'm sick again. For those keeping score, it is now Day 8 of Round 2 of the Pink Ills. I fortunately managed to get healthy in time for the baby shower, and then woke up with a new virus last Thursday, the day before we were leaving for our yearly football pilgrimage to Pullman. My very nice husband drove both ways, giving me the chance to alternately moan, sleep, sip Starbucks, read the latest Jodi Picoult novel and moan some more.

I'm sure Most sane people would probably have stayed in bed all weekend. I, on the other hand, go cavorting around Eastern Washington and Northern Idaho. I wasn't going to miss homecoming, both literally and figuratively. For someone who maintained they were not going to school at Washington State all the way up to the door of Housing, as my mom pulled out her checkbook for my dorm-room deposit (Oh, sorry, I mean residence-hall room; I am scarred for life from my experience dealing with RHA for The Chinook), once my earthly belongings and I had been relocated to the Palouse for four years, I fell in love with the small-town college experience.

Now I know that anyone who only knows the me who shops at Nordstrom and can't be too far from WiFi, Thai food or Starbucks, is probably doubtful that I have anything in common with Clark
"10 farmers and a cow in his graduating class" Kent, but I really love Pullman. I wouldn't want to live there, but visiting is just fine.

However, going out for the Oregon, game, when you know your team sucks, is another story. It's a familiar mantra in my household: It's a rebuilding year for the Cougars. New coach, young players, wheat allergies (OK, not really, but I was looking for another excuse for why they're so terrible) ... But seriously, driving 300 miles and sleeping on a rock-hard hotel mattress in Idaho to watch our beloved team get turned into 63 ounces of pate by the Ducks (as in 63-14 being the final score) ... I should clarify that the photo at the top of the post was taken at the beginning of the first quarter.

Still, it was fun, the weather was nice, we bought some Cougar cheese, the Chinese and calzones were fabulous, and I learned that snowcones are a great way to soothe a sore throat. (I had to have two, because just when I was starting to feel better, we finally scored, and I started yelling and jumping around, and that was the end of my throat until I went and bought another one.)

So, when you're sick, everything is 10 times worse than it actually is. Running out of Kleenex means the sky is falling, and seriously, once my vapor rub is gone, life as we know it will be over. Even so, had I been healthy this week, I still think I would have been equally upset when I found out that the day I had requested off several months ago to see Celine Dion perform in Tacoma didn't get put down on the vacation schedule, and the weekend of Oct. 18 was now full.

When getting teary, near-begging and subtly bringing up my previous altruistic deeds (51 hours of overtime in Editorial, anyone?) didn't work on my boss, and I had exhausted every conceivable avenue of getting someone to cover for me, I resigned myself to not getting to see Celine, who, honestly, is my No. 2 favorite celebrity (after Teri) and would be performing less than 12 miles from my house. Oh, the injustice of it all.

But here's where the whole "choice" thing comes into play: I can't really explain why, but I refused to give up. I had to see Celine, and while I wasn't going to do something unethical like call in sick, I wasn't finished looking for a solution. I guess you can say that Celine's music has been therapeutic to me during my fertility ordeal, especially since she had issues herself, and as I have said before, "A New Day Has Come" has a lot of meaning to me, as does "The Prayer. When I saw her in Las Vegas in 2007, I was pregnant, and for some reason, I felt that seeing her again, now, would be like coming full circle. Does that make sense? Probably not.

Anyway, a small miracle showed up today from the Editorial Department. Apparently, karma does mean something, because the desk editor who I fill in for during vacations said he could work for me, and my boss agreed, so I get to go to the concert (with my sister). I was beyond thrilled, and teary again, but for a good reason. And since this is her "Taking Chances" tour, I'll get to see Celine sing "Alone" live.

Go ahead. Place bets on how long it will take me to cry.

My money's on the opening note. But sometimes, tears are worth it.