A not so interesting fact about me is that I have an incredibly weak stomach. There was a time in my life where I threw up, literally every time I took out the trash. Smells, weird foods...all contribute to my weak stomach and propensity for umm...getting sick.
One day, when I was in middle school, my family was traveling through Spain and we were visiting a beautiful ancient castle. We were walking around the grounds and there was a courtyard in the center of this castle. All of a studen, I started to feel naseous. I was on my way to tell my mother when it came spewing up...I rushed over to the corner and proceeded to throw up...in an antique vase/urn. As soon as I was done, I instantly felt much better.
My mother being the incredible woman that she was and a nurse so not very squeamish, didn't have any tissues and allowed me to blow my nose in her shirt. It was at that moment that I knew my mother loved me. I had never questioned it...but come on...that's pretty gross! My mother sacrificed her shirt so that I could blow my nose. Forget Romeo and Juliet or Frozen...that's love.
As for the vase/urn...well...my mother told me, "don't worry about it, the cats will eat it."
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