Spooky Happenings

About nine or ten years ago, I spoke to my friend Billie Jo for the last time. We met when we lived in different apartments in the same house. She recently left her husband and I was a single mom, as well. We became fast friends, but over time, we both moved away from the town where we first met, our lives moved in different directions and we lost touch.

I tried looking for her on the Internet a few times, with no luck. Last week, I decided to look again. I didn’t find BJ, but I found her three daughters on Facebook and asked one of them to pass along my e-mail and phone number. We exchanged a couple of e-mails and finally spoke on the phone yesterday.

The spooky part?

BJ told me that the day before I contacted her daughters, she had been talking to them about me and was wondering where I was. The day before!

This kind of thing has happened to me more than once in my life. I can’t remember every incident. One sticks out more than others because it has to do with someone I don’t even know and will probably never meet.

Some may remember the supermodel Niki Taylor. In May 2001, Taylor was involved in a car accident that nearly took her life. At that time, she had gotten married, had children and sort of fallen out of the public eye. Out of nowhere, the thought jumped into my head that I wondered what she was up to. I’m not the celebrity-stalker type. If someone put a photo of a current actor or actress in front of me and asked me to identify who it was, I probably couldn’t. I have enough going on in my own life that I don’t feel the need to learn the details of a complete stranger’s life.

But that day, I wondered. And later, as I was pulling into Emma’s school parking lot to pick her up for the day, the news came on reporting Taylor’s car accident. And the accident occurred at the exact same time that I wondered about her.

Shivers.

Sometimes I wonder what humans could accomplish if we really explored such things. I wonder if everyone is capable of this sixth sense kind of intuition or if only some people have the ability. And if it’s the latter, why? People have told me my whole life that I’m an “old soul.” I’ve always felt comfortable in the company of people who are much older than I am. I often feel as if I were born in the wrong era, that I belong in a time long gone. What does that mean? Is it just nostalgia? Wishful thinking? Evidence of reincarnation?

I suppose these are questions that may never be answered. Or maybe when I die, I will finally learn the secrets of the universe. I sure hope the answers are out there somewhere.

UPDATE: I’m reading over the link to the Taylor car accident article and it says the accident occurred on a Sunday. My memory must be off as to exactly how my story happened because Emma would not have been in school on a Sunday. It may be that I had the thought on Sunday and heard the news on Monday.

Read Full Post »

Some Random Thoughts for the Day

Gross weather
I woke up this morning to lightening and thunder. I thought I might have to be late for work because I was going to drive Emma to the bus stop. I didn’t want her to stand outside in that. But it stopped before she had to go, so I didn’t have to drive her and wait for the bus.

A funny cat
Elizabeth used to almost every day try to run out the door every time someone opened it. She hasn’t done that in a while, but I guess this morning, she decided she just couldn’t take it anymore. She ran to the door as I was about to open it and avoided my foot that was trying to shoo her back. Her resolved melted, though, when she ran off the front stoop into rain. Yes, readers, she turned right back around and ran back into the house.

Speedo Bicycle Man
He got arrested. They charged him with disorderly conduct. Apparently, he walked to the office of his trailer park (wearing said Speedo) and either accidentally or on purpose exposed himself. Whoever saw it called the police. They knocked on his door and he answered … in the nude. Silly Speedo Bicycle Man. Tallahassee will never be the same if he has to start wearing it again.

Michael Vick
Whether you think the man served his time and deserves to play again or whether you’re in my camp and think he didn’t serve nearly enough time for his crimes, how many of you think he actually deserved a standing ovation when he took to the field last night for the first time since he was released from prison? The man tortured and brutally murdered who knows how many dogs? Seriously? A standing ovation???? I’m beyond disgusted with the people of Philadelphia. Every person who stood in those stands and applauded should be ashamed.

FU Penguin
At Borders the other day, I came across a book called FU Penguin. It’s based on this blog: http://www.fupenguin.com/. It’s pretty funny. Not necessarily funny enough to buy (although some of you might think so), but funny nonetheless. And cute. The pictures are just too cute. I read the whole thing in the store. Enjoy. (A head’s-up to anyone who might be offended: the author of this blog is fast and loose with not-nice language.)

Read Full Post »

Another Movie Review: Inglourious Basterds

So … here’s a piece of advice: When choosing a movie to see, do your research. I knew Inglourious Basterds was about Nazi “hunters.” I knew Brad Pitt was in it. I knew other people really liked it. I did not know it was Quentin Tarantino, which, to anyone familiar with his work, means a lot (A LOT) of violence.

Don’t get me wrong. I can’t really complain about watching Nazis (Hitler included) having atrocities visited upon them, especially with the ironic twist of the atrocities being visited upon them by American Jews and (later) a black man. I know African-American is the PC term, but this particular character was French, so it’s not really appropriate.

Anyway, the acting is fantastic. I may not agree with most of Brad Pitt’s politics, but the man is seriously talented. There were only a couple of other actors I recognized — I don’t keep up on the latest Hollywood stars. Sorry. But I will say every last one of them did a fabulous job in this movie. I was impressed.

There were parts (especially the first “chapter”) that tugged at my heart and almost had me in tears. I was glad there weren’t any specific references to the Holocaust, after reading both The Book Thief and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society recently, which both touched on that particular act of human evilness.

It was funny in many parts. Even some of the violence was funny because the victims actually deserved it.

I felt a little disappointed at the end. I felt that Tarantino sacrificed some golden plot opportunities in order to fit in more bloodshed. But if you can stomach the shooting, burning, beating, etc., (keeping in mind 95% of the victims are Nazis) it’s certainly worth seeing.

Read Full Post »

Lost Friends

I’ve met a lot of people who look down on Facebook. They insist it’s for children, that they would never put up a profile there.

While I agree that some people (many people) put too much information on that site, I have to say that I’m incredibly grateful that it’s there. I’ve found or been found by people I thought I would never hear from again. My friend Rachel Martin moved away in 10th grade. We wrote letters for a while, but lost touch quickly. This was before the Internet and before cell phones were affordable and long-distance calls cost by the minute. I could have done a Google search for Rachel, but her name is far too common to be easily found.

But one day I logged onto Facebook and there was a request from my old friend Rachel, and just like that, we reconnected. And now I know all about where she’s been and where she is and if one of us ever ends up visiting where the other lives, I hope we are able to get together and catch up in person.

Over the years, I’ve lost touch with a lot of old friends. Most of them, I barely even think about anymore. But there are those few who make me long for the “good ol’ days,” and I will continue hoping that someday, somehow, they will once again be a part of my life.

Read Full Post »

I Hate Disneyworld

That’s right, folks, I said it: I hate Disneyworld. “The happiest place on earth,” they call it.

Ha! Happy?

Has anyone who believes that actually ever been there? Most months, it’s hot. H.O.T. HOT. Some days, even those of us used to the Florida heat and humidity can’t stomach more than five minutes in one of the parks. And it’s crowded. Even when it’s not crowded, it’s crowded. And when it’s really crowded, you can barely move, you can’t find a table in any of the restaurants, you have to wait an hour in line just to eat and the rides are impossible to get onto. I mean, 100 minutes’ wait for one ride or wait six hours with a FastPass. Uh-uh. No thanks. Not I.

I actually enjoyed Disney the first time I went, and even the second and a little less, but still enjoyed it the third time. After that, my enjoyment level dipped more and more with each visit. Besides the reasons listed above (which really suck, but aren’t really why), I couldn’t figure out what I didn’t like about the place. But now I know.

We went to Disney last week: Chris, his daughter, stepson and me. I couldn’t stand being there. At all. I dreaded going to the parks each day and couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel. I had no interest in the fireworks or the parade at Magic Kingdom. I was kind of disgusted by both. I did enjoy the ride back from the park to the buses on the ferry with a cool breeze kicking up from the water.

So, I thought about it. I asked myself why I was so unhappy there. And I came up with this: It’s commercial, fake and it negates every bit of fantasy that I grew up loving.

I watched the movies, read the books, believed in the magic. It was real to me, even into adulthood (although by then, it was far more tempered). But you go to that place and it’s all “brought to life,” but it’s so obviously not real. And it’s so obviously about making money and trying to force something that can’t be forced. Getting up close to the actors dressed as Disney characters reveals way too much stage makeup; fake, plastered smiles; , wigs; and unnaturally high voices. I can see that these are actors in costumes. That means the characters aren’t real.

While this is a rational thought it my mind without actually going to the parks, it’s still a blow to the little girl still living somewhere in my psyche. When children play pretend, they can build their own pretend places and imagine in their minds what those places look like. They’re real. They are not plastic replicas that look fake and ridiculous. I don’t like having those images forced upon me. At the end of every single ride, you come out into a gift shop with a bunch of overpriced junk that keeps with the ride’s theme. And despite its billions of dollars and ridiculous marketing machine, Disney raises its admission prices at least every three months.

And then there’s Epcot Center. It can be fun. There’s some good food and dessert in this little a la carte place in “France.” But again, it’s nothing but someone’s idea of something that is not necessarily true and is definitely not my idea of that same thing. I’ve talked to people who believe visiting the countries in Epcot is as good as actually going to those countries for real. Many people have lectured me about how Disney hires the best chefs in the world and has the best food that can be found, even if you were to travel to those countries and eat the authentic, local cuisine.

Well, I can tell you that most members of my family are better cooks than the “chefs” at Disney. The food just isn’t that good. It’s OK. Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t inedible or anything. But it’s not that great, either. And for what it costs to stay in a hotel and get into the parks (thankfully, Chris’ father is retired from there and gets us in free), I could go somewhere much more culturally rich and a lot more fun.

The one redeeming quality of Disney? The water parks. Well, I haven’t been to Typhoon Lagoon yet, but I’ve been twice to Blizzard Beach. It’s a blast. I highly recommend it.

Read Full Post »

A Life’s Soundtrack

I’ve spent a lot of time in the car this past week. That means a lot of time listening to old mix tapes and scanning the radio.

One song after another brought back memories of the many years of my life, and transported me to another place and time as I sang along with the sound turned up as loud as I could stand it. From my elementary school years in the 1980s to high school in the 1990s and beyond, I pictured old friends, beautiful places, remembered fun times. And I even remembered music that didn’t play.

For instance, the only Duran Duran song I actually heard was Ordinary World, which came out in the ’90s. But as I listened to  a station playing ’80s music, I remembered spending the night at Christina Walker’s house in fourth grade and listening to Rio and A View to a Kill, my two favorite Duran Duran songs ever. I recalled how we used to wear mini-jean skirts with black leggings, two or three layers of different colored scrunchy socks and high top Reebok sneakers. We thought we were just so cool, even though we were only 10 years old. We also shared a boyfriend, Brian Kelly, with our friend Heather Stranger. I guess we were our own mini version of Big Love back then.

The ’90s brought Grunge and Pearl Jam’s iconic album Ten. Jeremy is the most famous song off that album, but far from  the best or my favorite. Black was what I listened to when I was sad over a boy. We listened to all of in in Roxanne Lyon’s car on the way to Ithaca or the mall (to flirt with the Marine Corps recruiters). Later, Roxanne bought Queen and the soundtrack to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and we added those to our musical lineup (Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me … I wanna be diiirty. Thrill me, chill me fulfill me, creature of the night). I still can’t hear any of that music without thinking of Roxanne and Melissa Martin. Melissa is still around, but Roxanne slipped out of our lives years ago.

We also used to listen to Ten in Melissa’s bedroom in the apartment her mother rented after she left her husband. We would burn incense and read Glamour and Cosmopolitan and talk, talk, talk. Then we’d head out to an Elmira Pioneers baseball game or the mall or wherever the spirit moved us that particular summer night. Because most of my memories are of the summer. No school, no responsibility. Complete freedom.

Some music transcends time. When I hear Come on Eileen, it takes me to St. Patrick’s Day every year in Elmira. And to Hogan’s Pub, one of many Irish bars in Elmira and Horseheads. I don’t think I ever went to that place and didn’t hear that song.

What songs bring back your best memories?

Read Full Post »

I’m baaa-aaaack …

And utterly exhausted.

After putting out tons of food, water and extra litter for the cats and vacuuming my whole house last Friday, I got in my car and drove to Chris’ mother’s house. We spent the night there with Chris’ daughter and stepson from when he was married and then went to Jacksonville on Saturday. I stayed with my best and oldest friend, went to a picnic on the beach at one of the Navy bases, had lunch with an Internet message board friend who I’ve “known” for two years but never met, had cookies and water at Starbucks with another Internet friend who I’ve met several times and then hightailed it back to Live Oak on Sunday evening, only to get up early Monday morning to head to Orlando. Well, actually, Buena Vista. For those who don’t know, Disneyworld is not actually in Orlando or even in Orange County. Look it up if you don’t believe me.

And, wow, yeah, that was a long sentence. I think I’m channeling my friend Amy because I just read her blog. (Hi, Amy!)

Anyway, it’s late and I’m just checking in to say hi right now. I have several thoughts rolling around my head from my vacation that I want to write about. But like I said, I’m tired. And I have to drive back to Orlando (actually Orlando this time) tomorrow to pick up Emma (my daughter, if I haven’t mentioned it) from the airport. It’s a long story why we didn’t just stay one more night as we planned. Things just didn’t work out in my favor this week. On many levels.

I came home to: carpets that needed to be vacuumed, even though only the cats were here since I last vacuumed, a sink full of dishes, plus the ones we added for dinner (it looked like a lot less when we left), cat puke all over the house (well, mostly in the downstairs hallway and back room, but it was a lot) and a working dryer that stopped working right about when I put all the bedsheets from the entire house into the washing machine (thus why I’m still awake). The dryer spins in its usual way but it decided it doesn’t want to get hot anymore. Thanks, dryer. I appreciate your timing and thoughtfulness.

So, I’m waiting for the sheets to dry (they’ve only been in there about three hours now) and contemplating a night on the couch and an early morning trip to the laundromat. How fun.  Really.

I’ll be back either Sunday or Monday with the aforementioned thoughts. Promise. It’s amazing what kind of thoughts Disneyworld can bring out in a person. Mostly, I finally figured out what I hate about that place. I also ate way too much and most of it junk. I’m feeling it now and I do not like it. Not one bit.

Read Full Post »

He Can Dirty My Job Any Time

Several years ago, an episode of Friends featured two of the characters, who were dating, making lists of celebrities they could have sex with and it wouldn’t be considered cheating. Were Chris and I to agree to such a list, Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs would be numero uno on mine.

All I can say is, "YUMMY!"

What’s not to love? He’s rugged. He’s sexy. He spends his time doing manual labor and getting dirty. I’ve never been one to go for the polished metro-sexual type. No matter how attractive a man is, if I know he gets his nails done or if I see him wearing pink or lavender even once, that’s it for me. I can’t imagine Mike doing or wearing any of those things. He’s a manly man in the most manly way there is.

Yesterday, Chris called me on his way home from work – he works at the airport – and told me that as he was leaving, he saw Mr. Rowe heading through security. I could just die knowing that man was in this city. Yes, I know I am right now channeling my 13-year-old self, but Mike brings that out in me. I don’t swoon over men anymore. Not the ones right in front of me and not the ones in movies or on TV. I don’t have posters of good-looking men hanging on my walls. But I would turn my house into a giant shrine to Mike if I thought I could get away with it and not be considered kind of … eccentric.

Well, Chris is also a big fan, although I don’t think he has any designs on carnal knowledge of Mr. Rowe. Even so, one would think he might turn around, go back through security and ask at least for an autograph and maybe get a picture. Nope. Nothing. He said first that he didn’t want to go back through and then that he didn’t want to call attention to Mike, since no one else seemed to recognize him.

What a shame. What a waste of an opportunity. Mike, if you are reading this blog, I hope you will tell me when you come back. I’ll have you over and make you a wonderful, home-cooked dinner. I’m Italian, so you know it’ll be good.

An FYI: I’m leaving tonight to go out of town and won’t be back until next Saturday evening. There probably won’t be another blog post at least until Monday, August 24.

Read Full Post »

Accident Aftermath

Well, I thought I got away with a cut on my leg and a small bruise on my knee. However, last night my left arm and shoulder started feeling sore when I move them.

I wonder what else is going to become painful as the days go on? Oy!

Read Full Post »

Feeling Sorry for Myself

I got a call Tuesday from my doctor with the results of the blood test I had Saturday: hypothyroidism. OK, well, the call wasn’t even from the doctor. It may have been a nurse, but I suspect it was a secretary. She just said the doctor (gynecologist) advised me to see my primary care physician for follow-up. Um, yeah, well, I have been putting off actually getting a PCP, so I didn’t have one to call.

A friend who used to live in Tallahassee, luckily, told me a while ago about her doctor who she really liked a lot and he’s on my insurance, so I scrambled Tuesday to get him listed through my insurance and my doctor and called his office for an appointment. I’ll see him in two weeks, and I guess then I will get more information and see where I go from here.

I’m incredibly upset about this diagnosis. It’s silly, I know. Hypothyroidism is very treatable and as long as I keep it in check, not deadly. I have friends who are coming down with inoperable cancer and are very brave about it. And I am trying to keep that in mind for perspective. But I can’t stop thinking about how this is chronic and I will have to treat it every single day for the rest of my life. I’m only 32. In my family, that could mean 70-80 more years.

And I went into the test thinking it was a mere formality. I mean, I’m healthy! I had only one of the listed symptoms of this, which was that my periods were coming at the wrong time, even though I’ve been on the pill. My hair isn’t falling out. My skin isn’t dry. I was able to lose weight at a pretty high rate of loss. I know several people who have this who were able to lose weight, while on meds, but very slowly. Maybe I’m just in shock more than anything else. And annoyed.

Annoyed because over the last two years, I stepped up my exercise, started eating as healthy as I think is humanly possible without being a little crazy. I did these things because I want to look better, but also because I want to be healthy. On NPR the other day, a reporter said he and his wife had to make a choice between being old old or young old, and they chose to be young old. And that was my goal. Short of committing suicide (which I have no plans to do!), I can’t stop myself from getting older. But I do have control over how healthy I will be along the way. When I’m 80, I want to still be able to do most of the things I can do now. And now I have a disease that I can’t cure and that could potentially interfere with my healthy future.

I don’t want this. I want whoever gave it to me to take it back. I don’t want to have to have surgery to remove part or all of my thyroid. Surgery that will leave a scar on my neck that only turtlenecks will hide. I like my neck. I think I have a pretty neck. I don’t want that taken away.

On another level, I’m having trouble believing that the results were correct. Seriously. I guess denial is normal, but I want to go back to Monday before I knew. I don’t feel any differently, physically, since finding this out, but I’m different now, nonetheless. It sucks. Period. I know those aren’t pretty or poetic words, but they are what they are and they are true.

And now I have to wait for the results of a uterine ultrasound I had Monday. This test, too, was supposed to just be a precaution, but now I’m waiting for even worse news. I see my gyno tomorrow. The ultrasound results should be in her office today. I’ll keep you all posted.

****UPDATE**** The ultrasound was normal. The TSH level was 1 point above normal. My PCP will probably order additional tests.

Read Full Post »