Giddy Girlie

• when the lizard who likes to hide on the garage door nearly lands on someone's shoulder and no one flinches - they just reach gently for the lizard and try to move him away from the path of the car
• the fact that the lizard is a REGULAR elicits a response of "cool" and "I wish we had a lizard friend"
• when, at Rudy's Mexican Restaurant, you decline beans, in favor of rice, loudly pronouncing that beans make you gassy, and no one raises an eyebrow
• that while discussing a local cajun restaurant it is mentioned that while it was a bold and delicious choice to include gator in the menu, it just isn't going to be a hot ticket item and no one thinks twice about why or how you know what gator tastes like
• when you can maintain an open discussion in the midst of the museum on what is art and what is decoration
• ...and you can openly criticize "while I can understand that it must have been difficult to make, it's still ugly if you ask me" and even when they disagree, no one calls you an ass
• when theories of space men as catalysts for human intelligence, borrowed from Eric Von Daniken, bully their way into a conversation on the need to make art and to explain the gods to future generations
• when you can quickly scan the room of "collage art", pronounce it to be "crap" and move on immediately without fear of offending anyone -- including the art snobs surrounding you, carefully studying each melted doll arm and matchbox on display
• you can stick your tongue out at the stairwell hog who refuses to let you pass and laugh and laugh and laugh when one of us hisses "actor" under their breath
• when you plan to come inside for just a "few minutes" because you really should be home at 6:30pm-ish [90 minutes from now]
• when at 7pm passes and you're engrossed in the conversation which ranges from close personal friendships with Neil Gaiman, the profound message of Art Spiegelman's book, the idiocy of the current administration, to hot rod cars and the commercialization of Von Dutch
• when you get home and you re-live the whole day, moment-by-moment, again and again. "so what exactly did he say when I was out of the room, I mean, what were the exact words?"

Posted by giddygirlie at 11:33 AM | Permalink

I think the 'thing' that it is so disheartening, is to find out that you've been lied to.

Remember that feeling when you learned Santa wasn't real? It grabs you by the balls and makes you sick to your stomach and you just want to hide and cry a little. Not because you really wanted Santa to be that pure and perfect. You could have handled it if Santa had a closet masturbation problem or was the type of guy that would fart in yoga. I mean, he’s a real guy, and real guys have issues. And that’s OK. It was the fact that you were lied to. And lied to on a massive scale.

You knit your eyebrows into a tight knot, considering all the falsities of the story. You have books (false histories!), movies on TV (propaganda!), even the weatherman ‘tracking’ the sleigh with the weather tracking system (deception!). There were songs, games, the bourbon-soaked jerk at the mall that your mom promised really was Santa – just sit still and smile for the camera. You realized that it wasn’t just something that your parents made up to keep you in line, like the “I’ll get my belt” threat, this was an enormous conspiracy. It was a cover-up that went all the way to the top.

Why?

“It’s meant to make kids feel good, be happy for the holidays,” they say. Ha! It’s a device to manipulate your gooey little kid brain and prepare you for the rest of your life. To open your mind to manipulation and control. “If this idiot believes that reindeer can fly, then she’ll never question it when we give the ‘alls-well’ on the nightly news.” I assume this was followed by an evil chuckle [bwah ha ha] but since they don’t show it on my happy-go-lucky local news, I’ll never know.

Now I am at the age when the newspapers that I read are no longer the free variety that come in bundles at my local coffee house. I pick up the Times, read Newsweek, scour the internet for the truth. And honestly, it’s sad business. Flip on the BBC news (free on PBS in the afternoons, if you don’t get BBC as part of your cable/satellite package) and you get 10x the story that you will ever get on American news. They don’t have any bias – they just show things the way they are. Soldiers fighting and dying in Iraq. It's astounding! It blows your mind to see what the Iraqi people actually have to say about the U.S. being there and their hopes and fears. To see the stories from remote parts of the world that we, as self-centered Americans, don't even consider. The genocide! The starvation! The suffering!

How I wish I could go back to my nightly local news (complete with "hot" weather chick and morons with bleached teeth reading ripped off headlines), where they carefully gloss over the President's most recent bumblings and political screw ups. Where they avoid poverty and hunger and the suffering of our own people. Where they talk about Cosmetic Enhancement Expo as if it's the single most important thing happening in the Western Hemisphere. Where they give a sense of America being safe and sound. Nothing new to report, nothing controversial happening. Enjoy your fast food dinners, people, and sleep well tonight.

Posted by giddygirlie at 12:45 PM | Permalink

My MRI came back "negative" which is actually a positive. That means there is no bleeding or swelling in my brain, so I'm all cool to get back on roller coasters and mechanical bulls.

What could possibly be causing the numbness and cold feeling :

• pinched nerve in neck [new #1 candidate]
• spasm in a blood vessel
• small stroke that had quickly remedied itself with major damage, but has this particular after-effect

She has ruled out that it is :

• a dermatological issue [she says it's an inside-out problem, rather than being the skin freaking out and bugging the nerve]
• Bell's Palsy [there is too much facial movement to qualify]

This is all very good news, except the part when she told me that it is very possible that this could be a permanent affliction and that I am really lucky that it's not a palsy or something worse. To be honest, I would like this cold feeling to go away, because it seriously bugs, but I am getting used to it now so it's not the worst thing in the world. As long as I can have my mechanical bull, I'll be ok.

Posted by giddygirlie at 2:11 PM | Permalink

Stranger still, I dreamed of an old friend who I haven't thought of in a long time. Growing up, I was always close with Nichole and then when our families moved away from one another and we eventually lost touch. The last time that I saw her, she showed up at my parents' house in 1997 and was pregnant with her first baby. I went to her baby shower the next weekend and that was the last time that I laid eyes on the dear girl. I received a birth announcement about 2 months after the baby was born and it didn't have any return address or phone number... I had no idea where to find her. Her parents had also moved again and to this day, I can't find any of them in any phone book or anywhere on this great world wide intra-web. In my dream, we met up again and immediately clicked and fell into the loving sisterhood that we shared all through our years together. I sincerely hope that if I do ever find her again, this is precisely what will happen. It was a lovely dream and full of odd and interesting things.

p.s. yes, I did take a mid-afternoon snooze and YES it was heavenly.

Posted by giddygirlie at 1:12 AM | Permalink

In the office section (the booth) she let me review the extensive CD collection, to decide what music I would like to listen to. I knew I wanted something soothing and something that I was familiar with. She had told me that each 'plate' (the x-ray, basically) would take 3 minutes, so I wanted something with songs that I knew, so I could use the familiarity to calm myself. I chose Bob Marley "Legend", since that is an old stand-by and something that I know will calm me.

The tube they feed you in to is very tight. The stretcher (bed?) is about 24" wide and the side of it touch the tube. This only leaves about 10" of space between your face and the top of the tube - not to mention the 'helmet' that fits even tighter over your face. I could immediately sympathize with anyone who is claustrophobic in the least... it was a little awkward. The technician was the best, though. She walked me through each part of the procedure "you'll
hear the soft knocking for about 30 seconds and then you'll hear the jackhammer noise rotating around you and it will vibrate the whole machine. It'll take 3 minutes, start to finish - are you ready?" I went through 6 different procedures - each one to develop another plane, so in total I was in the tube for about 25 minutes (there is a brief break between procedures). I kept my eyes closed the whole time and consciously breathed slowly and was as still as is humanly
possible. Of course, from time to time, the thought creeps into your head about where you are : an 8 foot tube, barely big enough to fit your body. A coffin under a construction site. You think about how tight the head cage is, that you could stick out your tongue and lick the inside. The hammering, the vibrating, the tightness, feeling the inside of the tube with your hands... but then.... there's Bob "everything's gonna be alright... everything's gonna be alright... no woman, no cry. No woman, no cry."

Posted by giddygirlie at 2:04 PM | Permalink

Tomorrow I go into the machine once again, this time for an MRI, which is supposed to be noisy and scary and I knew it wasn't good when the questions they ask you are : 1) what's your name? 2) are you claustrophobic? I will be in the tube at 9:30am, so watch your watches and think happy thoughts for JoJo the idiot girl and her amazing freezing face! After that, I will be working from home, so I won't be on instant messaging and I'll only be checking email periodically.

I love you all so very very much. Have a great night and hopefully I'll have some good news to report tomorrow!!

Posted by giddygirlie at 4:35 PM | Permalink

She says that she likes her doc a lot and I counter with the stories about how he calls me at home at night to discuss my questions, when he can't get to it during the day. She retorts that her doctor has set her up with a top notch infertility guy and I say my guy is an infertility guy, which is just another feather in his cap. That way, no matter what happens with my brains or uterus or whatever decides to foresake me next, he has a handle on it. She says that her doctor is good about scheduling her in quickly and I say that although I am on a regular just-see-the-dude-annually basis, he totally remembers me and asks about work and school and personal things. I really like his bedside manner and he's so courteous and professional.

She finally agrees that my guy is better than hers and I puff my chest up a little and grin smugly to myself. She then starts to walk away, and then steps back, "hey, what's your doctor's name by the way?" "Kurt Miller" "No way! Me too! We have the same doctor!" much tittering and ha ha ha's were exchanged. Then she turned to leave again "I'll tell him you said 'hi'!"

All night that last part stuck in my head. Is it inappropriate to tell your gyno that someone says 'hi'? I mean, where do you begin? At what part of the exam do you spring it on him? Do you rush it when he walks in? Just shove it right in between the "hello" and "what brings you in today" spiel? Do you wait until after? When he's disposing of the glove and making notes in your chart? God forbid, you actually bring it up DURING the exam. How awkward is that? "Speaking of your hand shoved up my crotch, Mia says hi!" And then what if he doesn't remember? How do you describe a person who is known mainly by their genitalia, which hopefully you have limited knowledge of (you are co-workers after all). "You know... Mia? Red hair, short, mid-twenties?" And if he doesn't remember, how far do you persist? "The one with the freckle on her inner thigh? The clit piercing? The double nipple rings? Not ringing any bells?" "hmmm... no, I can't say that it is. I see so many vaginas, you know..." "Oh! How about this? Brazilian bikini wax? Tattoo of a naked lady on her vulva? 2 back alley abortions at 15?" "OH! THAT Mia. Great! How's she doing? Has her chlamydia cleared up yet or should I call in another round of antibiotics?"

CREEEEEEPY.

Posted by giddygirlie at 11:32 AM | Permalink

I wanted also to clarify about my uncle, from the last post. He's my jerk-ass uncle that no one really likes. He's the guy that married my aunt - not a blood relative or anything like that. He's been separated from my aunt for a while now, and we all could care less about him. It was just that at the same time my brain started aching, he went into surgery and so my mom insists on associating the two. So thank you again to everyone who sent your sympathies and your happy energies to me, but just for the record, I am not upset about the uncle. But I'll take your love anyway. :-)

To sort of steer this blog back on track, I will have a 2nd post later today, once I formulate my thoughts.

Posted by giddygirlie at 9:00 AM | Permalink

My face feels slightly better, although no one knows if it is a sign of improvement or not. It's more numb than cold, which is still just as strange. I saw the neurologist today and she says that she thinks that my face looks uneven, like it may be getting worse. She has ordered up an MRI and a full blood panel, to see if maybe my blood is too thick and causing trouble. She says that she suspects that I have had a tiny stroke in a small blood vessel that is causing very temporary problems (my numb face) and that it wouldn't necessarily be seen on the CT, but should show up on an MRI. If she doesn't see that on the MRI, then her other culprit is a spasming blood vessel (like a muscle twitch) that is causing these symptoms. Either way, she is pretty certain it is temporary and not really long-term damage. I suppose that's good news. I'm not particularly scared, but my mom is a wreck, especially since my uncle was diagnosed with a brain tumor last week and when they went in to operate today, they found it is inoperable and he only has a short time to live. The thing that is irking me is that Ryan finally came down with a mild case of Baby Fever this weekend (at our friend's baby's 1st birthday party, where we found out that 2 other friends are having a baby) and I need to act quickly! It's like a QVC special - I may only have 48 minutes left to take up this deal! ;-) The doc says that I shouldn't be doing anything to elevate my heart rate or increase my blood pressure until after the MRI. No excercise. No sexercise.

In the event that this stupid numbness is my eventual demise, I went and had my hair cut this weekend. Cut short and dyed dark red. I've been wearing it really teased out (fortunately there are high winds this week, so no one knows the difference) because that's how I feel. And plus, you can't tell a girl who just might die that she looks bad. Ha!!

and please, let me say it here for the record : if I die, cremate me and dump my ashes anywhere. Do NOT spend money on a casket or stupid flowers or anything like that. Seriously, take whatever money you were going to spend on flowers and buy yourself a Target gift card or something. Hide it away for a day when you need something and think of me, ok? If you don't, I'll totally haunt Dakota Fanning.

Posted by giddygirlie at 5:36 PM | Permalink

On Saturday, I had a migraine that was pretty uneventful, but then Sunday afternoon my face started feeling cold. I didn't pay much notice until Tuesday, when the cold sensation persisted, and I told myself that if it didn't go away I would go to the doctor. Well, my neurologist was unavailable (and her stupid new med. assistant can go to hell anyway) so I decided that I was going to UCI and go to the Urgent Care. I figured that would be the best place for me, in case it was something bad. UCI is the best. hospital. ever.

Anyway, yesterday I went and they decided I should not be in the Urgent Care, but should be over in the ER. They gave me a bed and an open-back gown (I got to wear my own pants) and my own nurse and EVERYTHING. The doctors were pretty puzzled because the sensation in my face is pretty unusual (it feels like the right side of my face is packed in snow and is freezing and burning) and of course, they were thinking 'stroke' just like I was. They decided I needed a CT scan, and like the geek that I am, I was excited about it. I mean, how many people get to see pictures of their OWN BRAIN? [by the way, that is not my brain pictured above] So I went off to CT a little excited, a little nervous (what is it is a stroke? cancer? worse??), and no one told me anything. "Lay down here, close your eyes" and into the machine I went. Since I was just having a head CT, I didn't go into the big tube scanner, but the smaller donut-ish scanner, where it feeds you through the center.

The machine isn't really that loud, a lot quieter than I imagined, actually. I was told to keep my eyes closed, which was hard because I REALLY wanted to see what it looked like when it was doing it's thing. But laser beams aren't good for the retinas, so I kept 'em shut. It fed the table-thing that I was laying on a lot at first, then moved me through in slow incriments. I don't know why I had always thought that there was one great image that was taken, that could then be dissected on screen... I never really thought that they take pictures slice-by-slice and then compile them together. Anyway, the machine was pretty quiet, but the energy in there is amazing. I hardly have words to describe it, but you can feel the energy all around your skin and then somehow inside your face and your skull and under your skin and it's just buzzing all around. It didn't hurt, it wasn't hot... just very... I dunno - vivid? I can't remember ever feeling more alive. But also very confused. I think I was concentrating too hard and I lost track of my internal time keeper. I was just laying there, so the tech came over and asked if I needed help sitting up - huh? I was surprised that it was over already. I asked the transport guy (I had to be wheeled on a gurney, hospital policy) how long I was there and he said 3 minutes. 3 minutes?! It could have been hours... it was very unique, but also very cool.

Anyway, I do not have a stroke, nor cancer, and it's 'not a tuma' as Arnold the Kindergarten Cop would say. I am a medical mystery. An enigma with a freezing face for no good reason. I see my neurologist on Monday and she may order up a PET scan or MRI to see if there is anything more to be found inside my head. It was a relief to know that it's not a blood clot and there's nothing keeping me from doing cartwheels or riding roller coasters or anything like that... but there is nothing they can do for my face. So I am dealing with it. It doesn't look any different from the outside, but my face is still frozen.

Posted by giddygirlie at 4:16 PM | Permalink

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Posted by giddygirlie at 6:07 PM | Permalink

Ryan : what's that?
Irene : it's my 'dead or alive' sign
Ryan : your what?
Irene : hee hee, yeah. Mary [neighbor] gave one to me.
Ryan : so what does that mean? If the sign is up, sing Bon Jovi?
Irene : oh, mijo! You're silly!
Ryan : what's it for, really?
Irene : every night we put out our signs and every morning we take them in. If your sign is still up past 9am then one of the neighbors is supposed to call you and make sure you're ok inside the house.
Ryan : that is actually a really good plan
Irene : yeah, and if you don't answer the phone, then they call the paramedics
Ryan : that's a really good plan. But wait, couldn't you call it something other than the 'dead or alive' sign? Maybe 'all's well' or something?
Irene : no, we like the morbid name
Ryan : ha ha ha, ok then
Irene : in fact, Mary is upset with everyone because she forgot to take off her sign today until lunch time and no one had noticed. But with all the rain and stuff, no one went out, everyone grabbed their sign really quick and went back in the apartment. So she called already today to say 'thanks for nothing' and 'in case you were wondering, I'm not dead'.
Ryan : well, I guess you'll have to apologize
Irene : eh... she isn't dead, so oh well.

Posted by giddygirlie at 9:13 AM | Permalink

Today, I put a sock in it. A great person that I work with lost his sister in the rain. Her car was caught in a flash flood out on the street and her husband came to her aid, but was helpless to reach her in the current. He stood at the side of the road and screamed and cried and struggled to help as his wife, and his unborn child, were swept away. Until this morning, Search Teams diligently scoured the path, looking for her, holding out hope.

This afternoon she was found and has completed her journey on this planet.

I am paralyzed and can never complain about the rain being cold again. Say it's unfair. That it is dangerous and unpredictable. That it's a damn tragedy that a young woman in the prime of her life was washed away in such an awful manner. Miss Maureen - my socks are off to you.

Posted by giddygirlie at 3:30 PM | Permalink

Last night after going on a walk-through of a prospective house-for-rent* I forced Ryan to suffer through a "run in" to Michael's to buy more

* nice place, a little on the small side. The deal breaker was the 1.25 bathroom - yes! a 1 and 1/4 bathroom! - and the lack of central air conditioning. Sorry peeps, for the scratch you're charging I want 2 toilets and cold air everywhere!

** I started a scarf project and went a little nuts and made it too thick, so it's more of a shawl... but that caused me to run out of yarn toward the end. Dammit!

Posted by giddygirlie at 9:08 AM | Permalink

Posted by giddygirlie at 10:19 AM | Permalink

• finished knitting two scarves
• purchased ingredients for home made coconut macaroons
• thought about a blog redesign
• wrote a new story that isn't published yet
• read three [yes, you read that right THREE] books : Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris, and A Monk Swimming by Malachy McCourt (Frank's little bro)
• went to a Tsunami Benefit Concert at the House of Blues and had my face fucking rocked off by the Cadillac Tramps. I was told by my HOB contact that Flogging Molly was going to be there, but they weren't. In their defense, it was raining like a freaking... I dunno what it rains like - cats & dogs?... it was raining pretty crazy, though, and I think they were in Santa Barbara. And if I wasn't all charitable and shit I would have stayed home and read a fourth book
• made a list of everyone that I failed to send a holiday card too, and decided to send each a little something, just because it's January and I love people.

Posted by giddygirlie at 11:12 PM | Permalink

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Posted by giddygirlie at 5:06 PM | Permalink

As I sat down at the computer tonight I realized how much he reigns me in. Guides my days on strong rails, nudging me down the track to where I need to go. I wake early, move swiftly not to disturb him. I work hard and fast and drive directly home to see him. He cooks me dinner and sits next to me during a movie. He listens to my long-winded stories about work and jerks and Christian Facism and punctuation. He turns on the washing machine and double-checks which items are "dryer safe". He tucks me into bed, even when he's working long nights alone in the studio. He desperately wants to be the tortured artist, but the reality is that he is far too content with his life to even frown. He takes care of me, nurtures me, coaches me, encourages me.

And even though I know he is resting well right now in his Las Vegas suite, full from an expense account filet mignon and 600 quarters poorer from the seductive slot machines, I can hardly think of rest. My mind is full and my body is tired. I am exhausted from the 'missing' and can't wait until I can wake up in the morning with only hours left until he returns.

Posted by giddygirlie at 10:59 PM | Permalink