The End-ish

Last week I wrote the following post:

"As you can see, the life of my blog space has been slowly dwindling. This last year of “blogging” has been like dragging a dead carcass through a forest but I kept at it because you just don’t leave behind someone you love. You know?

I love my blog space. While I’ve always been opposed to being a part of the blogging trend I’ve written countless, inconsequential streams of consciousness here over the past five years. When I started all of this I never figured it would last this long but even more surprising is what I’ve gained from it. I never knew I liked writing. Until the birth of Awe Geez I’d only ever written school papers on lifeless subjects so far removed from anything I deemed important to the trajectory of my life. I also wrote countless letters to Ari and those I loved to write and seal up with stickers and slip into her mailbox before I left for school in the morning. Ari always wrote back and I have every letter Ari has ever written me in a little red Royal Mail box she sent me from her first semester of college in Scotland. At the time it was filled with specialty chocolates and postcards. Ari has all of my letters in one drawer of her big wooden desk. Ari and I have the most wonderful love story.

Here I am off topic again.

Oh yes. I never expected to find my most favorite of hobbies after starting this blog and I never expected my photos to be delighted by so many people, giving me enough confidence to agree to paying gigs, no matter how small.

This brings me to a few points. The most important and the most exciting is that I have been accepted into a wedding photographers workshop here in Charleston in January. I wrote an expectantly long-winded letter and put together a mortifying website and have already been exceedingly lovingly embraced by not one but five local wedding photographers who have put together this workshop partially to teach and partially to interview second shooters to keep on hand for the busy wedding seasons. I’m very nervous and I’m very excited. But mostly I’m nervous.

My second point is much less rousing. My dwindling number of blog posts is due in part to reluctantly working the hours of 9-5 and being tired when I come home but more so it is because I have been writing other things. Longer, non-blog worthy, moody and or personal and or controversial things. I like to keep my blog simple. No feelings (beyond rage) no political debates or thoughts on the world. Nothing that would make me appear intellectual. I like this blog to be overall a happy, inconsequential thing. Much like myself.

Now, as I’ve pushed Awe Geez to the back burner in favor of verbose rants and reflective questions, I have a gaggle of Word Documents just sitting and I’ve decided to refine and compile them all into a book of my own writings. Will it ever be a tangible thing that my own sweet mama can hold in her hands? I don’t know. I don’t like to think about that. But I do want to have a copy of my thoughts, my twenty-something year old view of the world. When I’m sixty I’ll read over it and chuckle at my own naivety and smile softly at the things I had right all along.

This leads me to point three. I think it’s time for an official blogging hiatus. I’d call it the end all together but I wouldn’t really mean it. I’m finding it difficult to keep up with work, Laura projects, friends, and Laura hobbies. In some ways, I’ve let go of a lot of things because I just don’t have time for them and while that’s a fact of life, I can feel my mentality changing and the things that have always made me Laura seem like luxuries only for rare moments or special occasions. My thoughts used to be so creative and grandiose and I spent so much time researching little facets of life and cultures and ideas and it gave me so much to say and think about and I found it all very fulfilling. My thinking has flat-lined and I don’t want to live like that.

But more importantly, I hate to not do a good job on something. I can’t put my name on rushed and inconsistent writings and still feel good about it. Or, even more embarrassing is being cringe-worthy clinger, reluctant to let go of something when it is clearly time. 

I think it’s time.

That being said, I’m really excited about what I’ve been writing and just finished a long chapter on Ellen and I being forced to sing in our church choir so that Mom and Dad would appear to be good, Christianly parents. I wrote of the absurdity of the annual Christmas plays, 

“ … as I was too young and shy for a speaking role, I stood as a member of the background singers, wearing a bedazzled pillowcase and bobbing my head on cue with the music. I was embarrassed by the whole ordeal but particularly my costume, finding the pillowcase to be too short for comfort and only highlighting that fact that I had legs like PVC piping.”

And the reluctance we felt towards putting forth effort on such foolish occasions. 

“… and when her animated character faints from excitement, Ellen simply stopped speaking and slowly laid down on stage.” 

I later spoke of the hellacious “Girls Weekend” retreat Mom forced me to attended where a gaggle of giggling girls held my hands and happy cried and learned why we should never have sex, ever. I've never been the same. If you'd like to read the story, tell me and I'll send it to you. I'd love thoughts and feedback and to raise awareness of the emotional abuse I carry with me everyday. 

So then, until I come up with something great that I can sell for millions and then retire, I'll be here at the beach, furiously scribbling notes, wrapping bridal bouquets, and dreaming of far off places. Ari and I are thinking Machu Picchu this summer..."
                                                                   ...

This week, I told Dad I was preparing to 'publish' my farewell blog post and he was outraged and made me feel guilty and sad.
"Do you know how many people love that blog?" he asked rhetorically.

Instead he assured me that it was ok to not post so often and that my posts about nothing are still something to read. We decided on a bi-monthly update until I organize myself and feel fulfilled in my thinking and being. (Actually, Dad doesn't understand what I think about so much nor does he really get the idea of just being. That part was my decision). And then MAYBE I can get back to posting so often that it takes up all of my time and I'll just write posts about writing posts.

So now my point is to officially note a structure shift here on my blog space. Basically I'll do next year what I did this year except next year I'll post sparingly on purpose.

That said, please enjoy the T-shirt Ellen bought Dad for Christmas. He wore it only to upset Mom and then tried desperately to hide it from my camera for fear I would put it on the blog. Ellen and Ari had to pry his arms open.

I wish you all happy 2016! I hope it's really something.

Christmas '15 in Photos

This year, I had the strangest and least Christmasy Christmas ever. In fact, there was little sensation of Christmas and rather life carried on as though it was any other weekend.
In an odd turn, mortality became the theme of my Christmas, all a few steps removed from me but causing much disruption and sending my thoughts other places than home and family and Jesus.
I went to work, hung out with friends, and thought about well, pain actually. Not so much mine but pain as an inextinguishable concept. How's that for Merry Christmas?

So to add merriment to this post and my memory of Christmas '15, here are photos of Mattie, Ari, and Brett time, a dog park trip, an adventure to a new hiking trail, a baby turtle we found, lovely flowers, the banjo I now call my own, and the whole idea and fact that Ari and I went to the beach for a long walk, icy margaritas, and then an afternoon laying in the sun in late December.

What I've Been Doing

I’ve been working on lots of side projects. Additionally, I’ve embarked on a self-instated coffee shop tour of Charleston and discovered a place that serves Mexican Hot Chocolate which is hot chocolate with a touch of cayenne pepper and boy is it tasty! I’ve been spending too much money on Christmas presents (and coffee) and have taken up drinking hot tea as often as possible. I bought this box of wacky flavored teas (hibiscus, coconut masala, Lapacho apple, etc) and have become so obsessed that I look forward to coming home and boiling water.

I have been exercising in a minuscule fashion via light jogging and doggy dates. I ran my first marathonish thing and Buddy drags me around faster than I care to run and then I get side cramps and then I get angry and then Buddy gets yelled at. Neither of us really come out on top when we exercise together.

More importantly I have finally started climbing like I’ve been saying I would do for two years now. I loved heights and climbing trees as a little one and I’ve been wanting to go to a climbing gym for ages to see if I’m still as limber and strong as I once was. I sure am not but I like the challenge. It’s exhausting and a little scary and so many things about it are unexpected once your feet leave the ground. So much of it relies on your grip which seems obvious but several times I’ve had to stop not because I was too high or it was too hard a path but because my hands just can’t hold on any more. Wearing a harness does not make me feel anymore safe or daring. Watching from the ground, you see people get to tough spots and you think “Oh just lunge for it. You wont fall.” but when you’re up there dangling by your index finger, lunging seems very foolish and your body simply won’t let you try. It’s a mind sport a little. You have to outwit your sensibilities and climb higher and higher even though your brain says, “Why are you doing this? It’s dangerous and there’s nothing at the top of the wall.” 

The first time I climbed I went just twenty-five feet up and was alarmed by how quickly my forearms had become tired and I looked up at the rest of the wall and thought “My arms will never make it.”

I hung there a while, wanting to go further but knowing I couldn’t and I realized I’ve never been there before. I’ve never really been challenged before. That was a big moment which set forth lots of big thinking.

I went back to work for Boone Hall for a day. Last Sunday was their annual Wine Under The Oaks Festival and I stood behind a wooden table selling gift baskets and giving out samples of various fruit jellies. My thrill is not in the jars of jam or decorative baskets but rather, it was seeing my sweet Boone Hall family. I love them all so much. I don’t know why I don’t go visit more. I stole these photos from Carlos’ Facebook page and boy do they make me smile.

Last week at work I attended a meeting regarding 401K options. I giggled several times during the meeting because it all felt so adulty and I my inner consciousness was speaking like a valley girl. “Like, what do you mean it’s like, portable?” 

I sneered at the information booklets filled with charts, both pie and regular, and poured myself some water from the glass pitcher in the center of the table as though the tough thinking about finances had made me thirsty. My amusement at attending a business meeting ended abruptly when they said I’d be retiring somewhere near 2060. Pardon? Let me type it out for you. Two thousand and sixty. I will be eighty five. I was sort of hoping to the kick the bucket a little closer to seventy. Am I going to work my whole life and then just die? How is everybody so calm about this? That’s a lot of crappin’ years to be mentally numb and sleepy and I really hate getting up in the morning. After that statement they lost me completely and I only imagined standing in the flower shop for forty-five more years and I almost quit my job right then.

In regards to my job that I should not quit because I have to work and it’s a swanky place to be while I wait forty five years to die, they have this program where they let all employees stay at the hotel for a night after they have completed all training courses and evaluations. With this comes a free dinner in The Grill and breakfast the next morning. The Monday after Thanksgiving was my day and Mom and I checked in to the hotel about 5 o’clock. The bellboys who tease and harass me everyday laid it on thick with my sweet mama and then we dashed up to our room to get ready for our big meal. My fellow associates greeted me as though I don’t work there and sat us at a table for two underneath the Christmas wreaths I had hung just three days earlier. I was delighted to receive a beautiful flower arrangement shortly after arriving. They put it down on our table and I read the card. It was from the two women I work with, wishing me a happy Guest for a Night. 

“That’s sweet of them.” I said to Mom, admiring the colors on the petals. And then I realized suddenly that I had made that very arrangement just before Thanksgiving and put it in our cooler in case we got busy and needed something on the fly. Mom thought this was hilarious however I felt slightly cheated. Nevertheless we had an outstanding dinner, were catered to like celebrities, and waddled out of there like penguins.

I took mom on a quick tour of the hotel, to areas that ‘civilians’ don’t get to visit and by 8:30 she was in bed reading magazines and just as happy as a clam. I spent the rest of my night in the lobby with my bellboy and front desk friends because I just couldn’t go to bed that early. Mom and I were still full when we woke up the next morning but we dutifully sat in the Café and were served coffee and the largest platter of fruit you could imagine. We could hardly eat our breakfast but all of my work friends came by and met Mom and seemed so excited for us that we hardly noticed that it was time for Mom to get going and me to go clock in. 

“You have to work today?” everyone said with outrage. Normally folks get the next day off so they can sleep in and enjoy the pool and/or spa but because there are only three people in the floral department, workers just can’t be spared sometimes. It was a great little thing to get to do but I hated being served by fellow workers. It just didn’t feel right somehow but Mom really charmed everybody and they didn’t seem to mind.

So you see, Christmas prep, friend visits, and mulling over my next fifty years is keeping me busy. You know how I like mulling. Though suddenly it all feels more urgent than it used to.  I fall off of Dad’s health insurance plan in June so I have to get my own. I’ve got to come up with something quick!

Like A Secretary Only More Important

I thought this was the cutest thing.
This is 8 year old, Danny Dutton's answer to his homework assignment that asked him to explain God.

"One of God's main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die so there will be enough people to take care of things on earth.  He doesn't make grown-ups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way, He doesn't have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can just leave that to mothers and fathers.

God's second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times besides bedtime. God doesn't have time to listen to the radio or TV because of this. Because He hears everything there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off.  God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn't go wasting His time by going over your mom and dad's head asking for something they said you couldn't have.

Atheists are people who don't believe in God. I don't think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren't any who come to our church. Jesus is God's Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn't want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind like His Father and He told His Father that they didn't know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said OK.

His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn't have to go out on the road anymore, He could stay in heaven. So He did.  And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of Himself without having to bother God. Like a secretary only more important. You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to hear you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the times.

You should always go to Church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there's anybody you want to make happy, it's God. Don't skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong! And, besides, the sun doesn't come out at the beach until noon anyway.

If you don't believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can't go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can.  It is good to know He's around you when you're scared in the dark or when you can't swim very good and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids.  But you shouldn't just always think of what God can do for you. I figure God put me here and He can take me back anytime He pleases.

And that's why I believe in God."

Athens, Georgia

Last weekend I went to visit Ari in Athens, Georgia. I’ve never been to Athens before nor have I, or Ari for that matter, been in a home that was entirely Ari’s. That gal has always lived in dorms or crowded apartments, always sharing a kitchen and bathroom with some gremlin undoubtedly less organized than Ari herself.

Sometime around high school Ari developed a morbid fascination of sorts. The girl likes road kill and carcasses. On our daily dog walks through the neighborhood she would observe flattened squirrels and the remaining feathers of fallen birds and other indiscernible creatures. One time we found a dead deer in the marsh and I nearly had to swat her curious hands away from the maggot filled corpse.

Despite these things I should tell you that’s she’s wonderfully girly and always has painted nails and red lips. She has the cutest little giggle, a button nose, and an extensive (and expensive) shoe collection. 

So naturally her home is adorned with bleached white animal skulls and glass frames filled with insect wings, dried flowers, and a wholly in-tact lizard she found dead, dried, and miraculously preserved in her parent’s garage. Also adorning her walls are posters from various New Orleans Jazz festivals and some moody black and white photography. Who could resist such a girl?

Her house was cozy and delightfully lived in but also felt like a history museum or an archeological showroom that housed succulents and cactus and an unexpected gardenia bush, furniture made of driftwood and warm earthy colors.

I met her and her classmates at a little bar downtown. They all talked causally about their classes and upcoming projects while Ari and I whispered to each other about memory lane. They are all studying Landscape Architecture and are currently in a class devoted entirely to learning the nicknames and Latin names of several hundred plants.

Ari told me that she had just learned the Latin name for our Meeting Tree. The Meeting Tree is in fact the tree exactly between our houses where Ari and I would meet when we wanted to play together. We would climb and swing from its branches while we discussed our plan for the day and then we would dash off and not think of the Tree again until tomorrow. We loved The Meeting Tree dearly and only stopped meeting there when her parents built a fence on her side of it when we were in high school. I wrote a sad poem about The Meeting Tree and we moved our planning sessions to the much less lyrical mailbox between our driveways.

“Ligustrum Japonicum.” she told me. “It’s an invasive though.”

We spent the weekend walking through the chilly weather, along train tracks and through town, stopping a few times for pastries and coffee. We talked the whole weekend and spent our last night together on her fold-out couch watching a Hugh Grant movie and eating chips, popcorn, and Reese’s cups.

During one night out with her classmates we walked briskly through downtown Athens, making our way to the part of town where the grad students hang out, several blocks away from the humongous mob of scantily clad undergraduates who were slurring and staggering and shivering. I’ve never seen so many kids in one place and I did not like it. We hid in a dark little bar with some truly horrendous, kindergarten style artwork on the walls. Ari and I were able to convince her classmates that this awful art was hers and we were delighted watching them stagger over insincere compliments and a panicked confusion. The best part was how sweet they were.

“It’s goo…it’s way better than I could do!” one said.

“I didn’t know you do art.” another mentioned. I overheard them whispering about all chipping in to buy it to make Ari happy.

Rather than complimenting her work they avoided it all together and asked about the process of having your art submitted to venues and also what inspired her. Ari held a straight face as she answered questions and I stood by ready to blurt out all the crap I learned in art school in case she paused for too long.

“I think it’s a representation of social status.” I said of the piece. It was three clear plastic balls with green pipe-cleaners inside, all handing from a piece of wood. 

“Interesting.” they replied. We waited a whole day before we told them the truth and they were blatantly relived though they never once admitted that it was terrible, terrible art.

On our walk back from the Art Bar they pointed out plants they knew and would all crowd around bushes and pluck leaves from ones they weren’t sure of. Drunk undergraduates would hover around them to see what they were so focused on. It confused all of them and the doubt on their faces seemed pained as though they suddenly questioned how many drinks they’d consumed in the last hour.

“Those are leaves.” one boy told us urgently.

The next day I had the most college experience ever and I tailgated for a football game. I did not understand the big deal at first because it seems to me that there are football games on constantly. I was ticked to walk past every house to find people wearing Georgia colors, standing in their front yards drinking and playing corn-hole at ten in the morning. I thought tailgating was performed exclusively in parking lots outside of football stadiums. It wasn’t until 3:00 that day that I suddenly realized that tailgating is the term for preemptive celebrating and that people want to spend their whole day doing that and nothing else. 

“So it’s really just a party? And then you watch a football game?” I asked Ari and even she was stunned by my ignorance.

Ari’s friends were amused by my oblivion to college life. I managed to attend two colleges without football teams, I knew not a single drinking game, and I openly discussed my aversion to further education. In addition to these things I was the only person wearing a fur lined coat and shivering while we stood in the yard and threw bean bags at plywood.

“Are you cold?” they asked me as though it’s unfathomable that a poorly insulated girl from the beach might be cold in the foothills of the north Georgia mountains.

“What’s it to ya, sparky?” I snapped at a fella from Colorado who was wearing shorts and a T-shirt.

Then to my horror, as everyone left the porch littered with beer cans and uneaten pizza to attended the game, some guy says, “I’ve got an extra ticket or two. Do y’all want to go?” and due to peer pressure I told Ari I didn’t care and due to peer pressure she thought we should go take a look. So somehow we wound up at the Georgia game and I was so encumbered by sounds and lights that I don’t think I watched a single play nor did I notice what team they were playing. 

We stayed about forty-five minutes and then Ari looked at me and I looked at her and we knew we felt the same. We walked back to her house, stealing a pizza from our tailgating hosts porch, and settling in for some quality time with Hugh Grant. 

My last point of note is how gorgeous the drive to Athens is once you hop off the Interstate. The last hour of that drive is through a windy back road lined with red and yellow trees and farms and green plains. And what a gift that Ari was waiting for me at the end of it.

Playing Catch-Up

Life's been so full of things lately. Lovely things in fact but I've been so busy I haven't stopped to think about them all. Most important for Ellen is that I inform you that she has redeemed herself from this cake... baking the same one again, this time with much success.

While we're on the subject of Ellen and cake I'll tell you that we celebrated Ellen's birthday a week or so late. We we're all busy and unable to dedicate our day to Princess Black Cloud. So Mom and Dad surprised her one night in October with a belated birthday cake and rather than being delighted, she immediately noticed a large smudge on the back side of the cake and was outraged about her "crap cake." 

"Shut up and be happy." we told her. That's how the Unions do birthdays.

Laura Fun Fact #64:
I take pictures of the Big Bridge while I'm driving over it. I'm somehow enchanted by it and can't stop watching the cables whiz by in my moon roof.

Laura Fun Fact #65:

I spent an entire workday making tissue paper pom-poms to hang from a tree for someones wedding. Pom-poms.

Eight hours.

A few weekends back my one true love came to visit and the same weekend, the old band got back together for a special show here in Charleston. I got to see a lot of old pals but Ari was the best part. We spent the whole weekend just talking and laughing. We went to our favorite breakfast spot out on Folly and then walked in the chilly sand for several hours only bringing our conversation to a stop when we realized it was almost 4:00 pm. I'm just so thankful for her. My life would be colorless without her.

In dog news, we try to coordinate play-dates for Buddy and Grace every week but sometimes it just doesn't work out. Buddy seems more restless in general now that Grace has come into his life. I suppose she brings him excitement and companionship and now that he knows the highs of life he gets especially down for the lows, the boring and lonely days. Buddy's eyes fill with hope when I come through his front door and while he greets me with jubilance he consistently glances behind me, out the door or through the window, wondering if I have anyone else in tow. When I do have an caramel-colored entourage (that includes Brett) Buddy knows we're headed out into the world and his excitement overwhelms him and he forgets all of his manners and all of the rules. He once jumped out of my moving vehicle when he saw Grace and Brett in a parking lot. The anticipation that builds as we ride to the Dog Park nearly kills him. Buddy drags me from the car to the park's gate and he barks and grunts and talks, frightening other dogs and humans while I remove his leash and let him go. He barrels into the crowd of wagging tails and he gathers together a group of pups and the pack runs large circles around the perimeter of the dog park and they splash into the water and swim and chase ropes and balls and tiny dogs and when Buddy finally comes home he falls right to sleep.

As for the folks, they both have been under the weather for their annual Sore Throat and Congestion Festival that they pass back and forth to each other for about two weeks. Dad will be rounding up his Lynchburg ventures in the next month and even he is excited to stay put for a while. Constant travel can bring even the most energetic optimist to drag his feet through the terminal. 

Moppy continues to delight me with her general outrage for the modern world and witty remarks about humans. She has been busy with her volunteer work and that wageless piano gig she never signed up for. Perhaps a month or so ago, she brought a new cat into our family. His name is Bobo and though I intended to introduce you to him ages ago with his own special blog post, he hasn't yet been brave enough to venture downstairs to join the family. 

All in due time I'm sure but I keep forgetting he exists.

A Real Eye Opener

With this post you get photos of flowers because I have no shortage of them in my phone and they are pretty things you should be happy you can see. 

Two weeks ago, as I flew down Hwy 526 at 65 mph, I went blind in my right eye. Shortly before, I had seen this strange, crystal clear circle floating in the air over on the right side. I figured it was like any of those floating light bits you can see when you close your eyes or stare a blank wall. I figured it would go away quickly so I paid it no attention but as I drove, everything within the circle became blurry and then the circle expanded so that I could only see light and smeared colors over on the right side.

As one would, I began to panic. I tried to calm myself down, telling me that my sight would come back in just a second and as I moved into the right lane in preparation to slam on my breaks, barrel off the road into the ditch and call 911, I saw the crystal clear circle appear in my left eye, the eye I was relying on to keep me out of a car accident. When I saw the circle in my left eye I knew I had about ten minutes. I knew I would be totally blind. I immediately felt sick but I had no time to hurl because I needed to stop my car and call for help. 

I took the first exit I saw and drove until I saw buildings and signs of life. I wanted to turn right, stop my car, and call Dad but my eyes couldn't see Right very well and could only make out grassy patches vs non-grassy patches. I could see green blurs and cement colored blurs so I pulled up into the first cement blur, immediately noticed I was driving past a barbed wire fence and as I stopped my car, I realized I had conveniently parked at our local county prison. 

“No no. No!” I said to myself, “Not here!” and I put my car back in drive and tried to get out of the parking lot. My blurry vision mixed with my heart beating in my ears caused me much confusion and I turned my car all manner of directions, finding no way out and unable to tell whether the signs said “One Way”, “No Exit” or “Do Not Enter”. Cops were staring at me from the front doors and I knew my maniacal driving must look suspicious.

I broke out of the prison lot and went up one block to Bi-Lo, parked my car, and picked up my phone. I didn’t know whether to find where I was on a map before I called for help. I didn’t know where I was and in my panic, I figured Dad wouldn’t have any idea there was a Bi-Lo near the county detention center. My hands shook as I dialed Dad’s number. While I waited for Dad to pick up, I held my hand less than a foot from my face and I couldn’t see it. It was just gone.

“Hey Lulu! What’s going on?”

“Dad! I seem to have gone blind in one eye and the other can only see light blobs!” and I told him the whole story. Dad asked me where I was, confirmed that he knew there was a Bi-Lo by the Jailhouse and told me to calm the crap down. He told me go into the Bi-Lo bathroom and splash some water in my eyes, drink some water and take some deep breaths. “Call me when you’re done.”

I hopped out of my car knowing I looked faint and confused. I bugged my eyes in and out of my head and blinked incessantly in order to walk through the parking lot without tripping or walking into other cars. Now, if the presence of the prison didn’t give it away, I’ll tell you that I’m not in a great part of town right here. Here in the parking lot were several broken down cars, people pushing shopping carts that contained all of their belongings and to my horror, almost everyone I saw had donned socks with their sandals that morning.

I entered the Bi-Lo like a drug addict looking for a fix. Sweating and cold, with what I could even feel was a ghost white face, I asked a cashier where the bathroom was.

“Down aisle Ten, through the double doors, to the right.” she told me and I tried to thank her sincerely as though I was present with her and not wondering if I’d ever get to do a painting again. I shuffled down aisle Ten behind a really fat woman with long grey hair. She pushed through the double doors and hung a right. Seemed to me she was going to the bathroom so I followed her. I slipped through the double doors before they closed behind her and caught the bathroom door and gave it a push. The woman walked into a stall and as she closed the stall door, she turned towards me and my one good eye caught hers and that giant woman had a sizeable salt-and-pepper beard.

Oh crap! I thought. I’m in the Men’s room. How would I have known? I couldn’t see. That human had long hair. 

I walked towards the door and then stopped. I don’t care! I’m panicking! So I walked towards the sink and then I stopped again. All the toilet seats are up. What does that man think? 

I staggered out of the bathroom, deciding to go to the Woman’s room so I’d be more comfortable. Turns out that was the Woman’s room so I went back in there with The Creature hoping to get a good blurry look at it to see what it was but really I had no time to waste.

While I listened to It use the bathroom and I washed my hands, the blurs became sharp, light fell back into place, and I could see again. I felt only the faintest notion of relief because now I had the sharpest headache I’ve ever experienced and a pressure behind my left eye.

After a couple more calls to Dad, one major 'it’s all over. no need to fear' panic attack and then my mouth going numb in terror, I ditched work and went to my eye doctor who told me very casually that it’s an uncommon but not rare form of a migraine headache that causes temporary blindness. “Nothing major.” he said shrugging and scribbling on my chart. “No one really knows why people get them but you won’t be blind for much more than half an hour. Just take a break and relax when it happens. OK? So are you all set?”

“That’s it?” I asked him.

“Yep” he said and then I went home.

If you're interested they're called Opthalmic headaches and apparently they can make you puke which scares me more than being temporarily blind because I really don't want to break my Vomit-free streak. 

Mostly I'm disappointed with myself. While I do live in a kind of constant mini-panic, I can usually control my reactions and feelings and I just lost it on this one. I can always calm myself down and maintain composure until something is over but I just couldn't. This scared that crap out of me! But no, I never did cry. So there.

Anyways, it made me think about how great all of our five senses are and how great it is that I have hands and legs that work and that I'm healthy and capable. We shouldn't take these things for granted. 

I Take That Back

Something came over me just moments before I was due to meet with my friends for Halloween. I don’t know what happened or why or how but I got so darn excited about dressing up for Halloween that I drove ten miles to a costume store and fought through the last minute mob of costume shoppers to see what was left for sale. The possibilities were endless! Why had this never seemed fun to me before? There was so much potential!

I spent all that time ranting and raving about intentionally avoiding Halloween but I had never thought about the fact that I’ve been standing by my thoughts on Halloween based entirely off of my notions of it as an awkward child. Now, as an awkward adult I’ve never even given Halloween a chance! 

Imagine my delight to open my front door and find these two...

Brett and Hayden waited patiently while I threw together my costume and then we danced off to find Ellen and Chris and a few other friends.

I was beyond ticked by Cole's (the fella up there in red) date's llama costume. She went to an awful lot of trouble to create a paper-mache llama head but for a reason that was never explained to me, she made it about three feet tall. Her llama head loitered up in the ceiling with air ducts and light fixtures. She had to take the head off to go through doorways and the llama head caused a stir everywhere we went. She had to stop every few feet to answer questions and be praised for her "giraffe head." 

"I'm a llama." she would say. 

It amused me greatly and then she hopped on her bike and I lost all control.