I Am At A Loss

Something strange happened to me yesterday and I haven’t been able to wrap my arms around it.

Last year, my little Brain Tail friend and I met in Pennsylvania to watch the new X-Files movie together. We don’t get to see each other very often, since eight hours separates us, and Brain Tail suggested we meet in the middle this past Sunday to catch up. We found a picnic table, and set to have a very enjoyable 2.5 hours chatting. It was a gorgeous day in PA ~ the sun was bright but not overwarm, the birds were trilling, the scenery spectacular, and the company was as enjoyable as ever without a hitch in the conversation. We had a lovely time. We’ve decided to try to make this an annual event.

At 2:30 pm, we cleaned up our picnic and parted ways; Lacie to attempt to mow her lawn, and I to have dinner with family. I plunged back into the gaping maw of perpetual construction that IS I-81.

A moment: one of these days, I need to write solely on I-81 and the construction it has undergone in the state of Pennsylvania for the last 235 years. Seriously, I remember my Aunt bemoaning Pennsylvania road construction 40 years ago. I’ve been driving I-81 to visit family for 25 years, and there has always been construction in this state. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I’m convinced that Organized Crime must be lining their pockets SOMEHOW and I’m bitter. One lane back ups for no apparent reason other than to give the United Orange Cone Makers of America extra coin to put bling on the necks of their trophy wives.

Thank you for the indulgence. I continue.

A mere half hour into my trip home, I noted a green van on the side of the road under a shade of trees. As I sped by at 65 mph, I saw the hood was open and a white man, slightly balding, wearing a blue short sleeved shirt and brown pants, standing in front of the vehicle with his hands gripping the open hood. His body language conveyed gloom, like “How am I going to get home now?”

My heart went out to him; I’ve had my share of breakdowns on the road. Not being a manly man with a tool kit in my trunk, but a single woman with few automotive resources, I did not stop. I wondered if he had a cell phone, and then spent some time pondering on the plight of today’s drivers versus vehicular predicaments in days past. What did we do before cell phones? I continued on that line of thinking for a bit before I RAN INTO STUPID ONE LANE TRAFFIC FOR AN HOUR.

As I said, I’m still bitter.

After breaking free from the bondage of that particular corridor of construction, I drove on listening to Christmas in July on Radio Classics. Jack Benny’s “A Christmas Tree Cactus” was great fun. Traffic had picked up to a normal pace. The trip was going well and I had no need to stop to use any of the rest area facilities or to get gasoline.

Two and a half hours into my trip home, I noted another green van on the side of the road under another shade of trees. As I sped by, I saw the hood was open and standing in front of the car was THE SAME WHITE MAN, SLIGHTLY BALDING, WEARING A BLUE SHORT SLEEVED SHIRT AND BROWN PANTS, WITH HIS HANDS GRIPPING THE OPEN HOOD. HIS BODY AGAIN CONVEYED GLOOM, LIKE “HOW AM I GOING TO GET HOME NOW?”.

Now, please understand. I am not given to visual hysterics of this nature. I’ve never seen a Cheetoh shaped like the Blessed Virgin, I’ve never seen a ghost and I have never met a psychic I considered really worth her $75 an hour fee. I love to hear the stories and I’m completely open to paranormal oddities, but I do not receive them. My kids do, a couple of my sisters do, some cousins, and even tiny little Brain Tail gets them. Not me. Though I get the occasional tingle when I need to pray for someone, I am mostly bereft of psychic ability. I’ve accepted this with equanimity.

For a second I was messed up. Had I somehow gotten turned around and was back in the same location? That couldn’t be right. I bounced back into character and said a “Hail Mary”, quickly and with fervor. I called Lacie. Surely, the brain tail would tingle if there was a psychic disturbance. There was apparently no hint of anything pawing at the cosmic continuum. I called Guest Blogger Who Hasn’t Blogged since 2007. Other than asking me if I was compelled to help him (which I was not), and considering a variety of urban legends, nothing solid was postulated.

I said a few more prayers but continued to feel a sort of unreality settle on me. An hour and a half later I picked up my daughter, went to Guest Blogger’s house, enjoyed a wonderful meal and put forth the mystery to my friends gathered around the table. All agreed the incident was creepy, and their responses were indicative of their personal character:

Guest Blogger – (curious, open to phenomena but not a medium to same, highly analytical with a psychological bent) - “I have no idea, but I immediately googled blue shirted, brown panted men on I-81. I found nothing. It’s strange.”

Starbuck - (a child of the universe, willing to believe the fantastic) - “You need to be more open to possibilities.”

Pamplona - (a devout Catholic Naval Officer) - “Did you pray? I’d have prayed.”

My Daughter - (scarred by years of my rigorous attempts to keep her from being victimized by teaching self sufficient situational awareness) - “Obviously, he wasn’t able to net any victims at his first location so he got back in his vehicle, sped ahead of you, pulled over to the side again hoping to lure someone into his green van of death and dismemberment.”

Guest Blogger’s Husband - (a solid thinking, no nonsense guy) - “Everyone in Pennsylvania looks the same.”

Additional theories:

It was the ghost of a soul trapped in purgatory who needed my prayers.

I was abducted by aliens, probed and didn’t notice I had a period of lost time.

It was a man driven insane by the never ending construction of Pennsylvania roadways who ended his misery by self-decapitating via his van hood. I was witnessing the paranormal re-enactment of the bloody event.

Now, in all seriousness, the only plausible explanation is that Creepy McBlueshirt got his van running after I first spied him, sped ahead of me and his engine broke down again. I simply happened upon him a second time as he peered curiously under his hood. It was all coincidence.

I’m not buying it. I don’t get it, I may never get it. I’ve looked on line for creepy stories, but none of these descriptions sound like my story.

You know what I’d love - I’d love to hear from someone who has seen “The Man in the Breakdown Lane”. And if you told me that I-81 is actually hell and Satan is the Head of the Pennsylvania DOT – I’d believe you.

Christmas Road Trip – Part II

Day 2 and 3 of my trip to New York turned out to be visiting days.

I drove to see Little Lacie of the Enormous Brain Friday morning. We were able to spend a few hours laughing and enjoying each other’s company. You would never know she had her head opened up a spare 3 weeks ago.

She swears she has an amazing XFiles clock her husband John bought at a garage sale, but she could not produce it, so I am skeptical. I worried that her zipper head might bust open and urged her to stop looking for it. We are considering sharing custody of the clock and doing a whole “Sisterhood of the Traveling Scully and Mulder Clock”. It might have many adventures. You never know…could be a whole thing…

After that, I spent a few hours with my kids at a local mall. This was a mistake since 1) it was the day after Christmas and the mall was packed and 2) I hate shopping. I have deduced that the shopping gene skipped a generation and went directly into my daughter’s DNA because I hate it.

I then drove up to visit an old high school friend and was regaled with a host of marvelous tales. I am going to call my friend “Namid”, this is not her real name, but it’s very apropos – it means “Star Dancer” in Hopi. Nami (I’ve already shortened it) and her husband “Takoda”
(“Friend to Everyone” in Sioux) have met with dozens of celebrities – not just spotted, but the hand shaking, have a drink with me, “Hey Koda!! Come get a picture with us!” kind of meet that has a fabulous story every single time. Hopefully I will get to share some of them in the future.

Day 3 was icy. We stayed in and played Rock Band – I kicked some vocalist ass if I may say so and had a wonderful time. Went to mass, visited with the priest for a bit – very dear to us – he was really good to my kids while they were growing up. Went home, bed early, which was good because I was plenty tired.

Our final day started peacefully; the kids sat out in the kitchen talking and laughing while I caught up on my Korean Drama. My sister and her family came by and I enjoyed every minute. We visited for a few hours and then it was time to go.

The ride back was uneventful, save for some traffic in Pennsylvania. The trip was made pleasant by Kasey Kasem’s American Top 100 for the Year 1984 . We got home at 7:30 pm and I was in bed by 9pm.

It’s never enough time, but it’s always good getting home.

Lacie - An Appeal

I've written about Little Lacie of the Enormous Brain a few times. Wanted to update and make a request.

Lacie is going in for her surgery the beginning of December.

Many have been privileged to read and be part of this tiny little woman's incredible journey. Out of her generosity, and let's face it, her need to make sense of this whole process, she let us in. I've known her for, I don't know, going on 10 or 11 years now, and the way she has carried herself throughout has been an inspiration to me as I know she has been an inspiration to countless numbers.

Today's request/plea though is this: I want us to buy Lacie some wigs. She has resoundingly approved of this idea and fully intends to wear whatever we buy her. We can get some lovely things here at a very reasonable price, or you can be more conservative here, but slightly more expensive. While I may look for something in a Scully fashion, I might decide to pander to Lacie's geekier side and get The Matrix Twins Wig. :)

Here's what I would like you to do: if you want in, if you want to in some small way, help support this beautiful woman who has inspired and moved us, email me at wigs4lacie@yahoo.com. I will coordinate the types of wigs so there is no duplication, tell you where to ship them to make sure they get to Lacie so she can smile and feel your love. If you can't afford a wig, which is cool, email me and I'll collect cards, letters, emails, and love for her and deliver them in a happy package to her door.

Cards and words of encouragement for her husband John would be a great idea too. I know what it's like to have a spouse in the hospital. I know what its like to carry the load at home, caring for the kids, working, rushing to the hospital, and worrying all the time.

Let's show Lacie and her family how much she has touched our lives, while she Lives Loves and Laughs.

I Want to See My Friend

Brain Tail and I had been planning to meet since Chris Carter announced plans to film the second movie in the X-Files series. God Bless Brain Tail, she did all the foot work; decided upon a date, determined the half way point, found a theatre, googled showing times, and established the location of the closest Starbucks.

I offered to bring Shiner Bock.

Decisions were made, plans were finalized. We would reach our destination at 10am so we could lounge over Starbucks coffee and do some immediate catch up. We would then catch the ultra-early 11:15 am show so that we could lunch casually and then dissect the movie. After which, I would transfer all the Shiner Bock I purchased into her car and we would go our separate ways – me to Rhode Island, she home. Flawless.

Saturday dawned bright and fine. A three hour drive was nothing, a walk in the park, a jaunt, a delight ~ splendid ~ if you will. I walked my dog, checked my email, made a pot of coffee, showered, lightly packed a bag, curled up with my daughter and kissed her goodbye. The gas tank was full, I had water in the front seat, the GPS was turned on, and back up mapquest directions were at hand. I glanced at the printed directions; lo and behold, my end of the drive was 3 hours 59 minutes. The first time I looked at them, all I saw was the 3 hours part. Well, crap. That meant I wasn’t going to get there in time for coffee and a chat, I was going to get to the theatre just in time to sit down and watch the movie.

Maybe I could make up time.

Nope, didn’t work. For the first hour, I got stuck behind someone I am convinced practiced rigid hypermiling techniques while I was determined to practice aggressive driving methods. Then I discovered that Pennsylvania is STILL making improvements to I-81N. In my 30 year experience, I-81 north and south has always been under construction. I’m told by my Uncle that for the 30 years before that it was under construction too. Whatever…it was putting me behind. I get a call from my friend who of all things left early and reached our destination at 9:30am. Well, crap again. I wasn’t going to get there much before 11am.

I got there just in time to get tickets and find seats; there really wasn’t a line at 11:00 am. We were two of about six people in the theatre. You know, if you were a diehard fan back in the day, it would really have been fun to sit in a crowd with other back-in-the-day-diehard fans. The shout outs to the fans were not too in your face and fun. Made us want to clap and shout “wooooo” which would have been ridiculous given the number of people in the theater. We left after all the credits stopped rolling.

I didn’t expect the film to overwhelm me with cinematic excellence. I was going because I had invested 9 years in the characters. I invested some amount of money in seasons 1-6 on DVD (blech – 7 – 9 – just blech). But mostly because I had invested years of friendship in the little Brain Tail friend I have.

Movie, lunch, catch-up, laughter, Starbucks, more laughter. A perfect day so far.

Next up: I Want to Believe

Splendid

Someone said the word splendid to me recently and I liked it. It's not used enough.

A splendid day today ~ slept well, I got in to work obscenely early as my attempts to hypermile continue, caffeinated coffee is brewing. I got letter #3 in the mail to Adam. Life is fine. Really fine.

A friend with whom I occasionally car pool showed me a non-trafficked back road home the other night; this delights me as it is fewer miles and avoids the foul foul traffic on 28S. I went to Guest Blogger’s for dinner; we did a crossword and finished – a night time rarity; we are rarely on point in the evening and crosswords suffer in the attempt. We are both of us morning folk.

This weekend, road trip! Going to meet up with the Brain Tail to watch the new XFiles movie “I Want to Believe”. Our plan is to meet up at 10am, find a Starbucks (nothing else will do; Starbuck was Scully’s nickname given to her by her father) chat ourselves stupid, then go to a noon showing. I'm bringing Shiner Bock up for Lacie's husband to enjoy later. Shiner Bock was consumed on an XFiles episode. I'm an obnoxious font of mindless trivia having spent a few years lounging in the OBSSE Abbey.

After that, I’m going on a solo adventure, driving to the Naval base to see my son on Sunday morning. Then, I will sob my way home, eight hours. Know what? Every mile, every tank of gasoline will be worth it. I’m going to see my incredibly brave friend who is facing still more surgery with grace and faith and courage. And then I’m going to see my boy. I’d do it twice.

Splendid. It's all splendid.

Little Lacie

I've written about Little Lacie of the Enormous brain a few times. Wanted to update and make a request.

Lacie had the first of her three surgeries on Friday, February 1. She's doing well! This is an incredible relief. I can't tell you all how thankful I am to God that Little Lacie of the Enormous Brain has gotten through the first of her three procedures. I can't tell you how thankful I am for this form of media so that John can just type updates, load 'em in, and we all know how our friend is doing.

Many have been privileged to read and be part of this tiny little woman's incredible journey. Out of her generosity, and let's face it, her need to make sense of this whole process, she let us in. I've known her for, I don't know, maybe 8 years and the way she has carried herself throughout has been an inspiration to me. Me, I'm too big a baby. I recently experienced a debilitating karaoke injury (I will write about this later) and do nothing but hobble around wincing at the pain in my calf. I have considered going to the doctor to try to get some oxycotin for the pain. Not sure if it's gonna fly.

Today's request/plea though is this: I want us to buy Lacie some wigs. She has resoundingly approved of this idea and fully intends to wear whatever we buy her. We can get some lovely things here at a very reasonable price, or you can be more conservative here, but slightly more expensive. While I may look for something in a Scully fashion, I might decide to pander to Lacie's geekier side and get The Matrix Twins Wig. :)

Here's what I would like you to do: if you want in, if you want to in some small way, help support this beautiful woman who has inspired and moved us, email me at wigs4lacie@yahoo.com. I will coordinate the types of wigs so there is no duplication, tell you where to ship them to make sure they get to Lacie so she can smile and feel your love. If you can't afford a wig, which is cool, email me and I'll collect cards, letters, emails, and love for her and deliver them in a happy package to her door.

Cards and words of encouragement for her husband John would be a great idea too. I know what it's like to have a spouse in the hospital. I know what its like to carry the load at home, caring for the kids, working, rushing to the hospital, and worrying all the time.

Let's show Lacie and her family how much she has touched our lives, while she Lives Loves and Laughs.

Tagged for Randomness

Christmas Song of the Day: Snow Miser/Heat Miser

I never want to see a day
That's over forty degrees
I'd rather have it thirty,
Twenty, ten, five and let it freeeeEEEEEEeeze!

I never want to see a day
That's under sixty degrees
I'd rather have it eighty,
Ninety, one hundred degrees!

This one takes me back to riding the bus to school. It was a favorite and when it was due to come on, the whole bus would sing these two parts, especially the trombone part “Ba duh buh buh baaaaa dah, ba duh buh buh, baaaaa dah!”

I got tagged by Little Lacie of the Enormous Brain today to write seven random things about myself. Not sure where this is going to take me, since I haven’t really thought about it all day.

1) I want to go on a tornado chasing vacation.
2) I once walked ten miles with my cousin, Guest Blogger, to poke holes in a cake.
3) I had 0 cavities up to the age of 18.
4) I remember a dream I had when I was three. I was still in a crib at the time. I was dressed in a white cow-girl outfit and I was about to fight a witch, wearing traditional witch garb. I also had a recurring dream when I was between the ages of 7 – 11 about Indians attacking my Gramma’s house and I was hiding in the bushes and got caught. I would always wake myself up before I was killed. Stereotypical hero fantasies, both. Interesting to try to interpret now.
5) I have a working knowledge of Catholic end-of-days prophecies, as well as with some of the more prominent Catholic apparition sites of the last 200 years.
6) Soy scares me
7) I am pretty good at interpreting dreams. Oh, and Lacie has seen dead people in my house, but staunchly refuses to tell me my future.

I hope that was random enough.

More Little Lacie

Bee Gees Song of the Day: Love Never Dies

To God above i swear
I only wanna live in the shadow you make
the soul never lies
but love never dies it goes on forever

Little Lacie of the Enormous Brain got some fabulous news. Her insurance company has approved her brain surgery at the premiere institute for her diagnosis. I'm happy. I'm scared. She's scared for herself; this is brain surgery. It's getting closer and more real than ever.

My tiny little friend is strong though. She continues to try to live a life as normal as possible amidst her symptoms; dizziness, crushing headaches, brain fogginess, sensitivity to sounds. She's pretty successful at it; and I think mostly, people tend to forget she is struggling.

We chatted today. "I have been a fighter all my life. I watched my brother die right in front of me ~ I could have fallen apart ~ but I soldiered on. I had two hip surgeries with six weeks in a body cast both times. I had to learn how to walk again ~ twice . I was told I would always walk with a limp and not be athletic, so I threw myself into sports; swim team, soccer, pep squad, ran, rappelled down mountains, climbed peaks. Now it's just brain and spinal surgery. I've always stared down challenges in my life. I don't know how to do it differently."

Lace just wants to be normal again. She "hates being so self absorbed" (can you imagine?) To combat this, she has made friends with other sufferers of Chiari. They seem to want to meet her, to flock to the light that radiates from her. She finds this astounding – because she feels like she fakes her clarity most of the time. It makes sense to me - they need her warmth, her strength and her faith.

Holding other people up is a big responsibility – she's a little thing and now she's this brain tail stuff sticking out of her cranium, but she's still holding people up. She's still working out. She's still going to her daughter's cheer competitions. She's hosting sleep overs for 18 giggly girls, she's still working full time.

But sometimes, people forget that she has needs too. She gives until she's got nothing left to give. She leaves nothing for herself. I think that during the day, the seams start to tear, in her little bag of sanity she keeps so close. The she furiously sews the bag up at night so she can get through the next day.

The reality of her surgery is shoving its face into hers. And it's scary. I don't want her to be scared, or tired, or struggling to keep it all together. I just want her to be better. So we can see the new X-Files movie together when it comes out. So we can just go out for lunch. So we can go to Tibet (we have that all planned out, she'll climb the Himalayas, I'll ride on the back of a little sherpa).

So if you are reading this, say a little prayer for Big Little Lacie. Please. And thank you.

Little Lacie of the Enormous Brain

Bee Gees Song of the Day: Alive

I ain't lost and I ain't searching.
But then you know me very well.
And I can't change the wind and make it blow the other way.
I'm a fool and I can tell .

My friend Lacie has this ginormous brain; so big, it oozes out of her skull. Lacie is this teeny four-foot-something “Tixan” (Texan for the right-speaking people of the world) and I tower over her at 5’2”. My first signal that she wasn’t quite right was within hours of meeting her eight years ago and she commented on my “Tinnis shews” (Sneakers, again for the right-speaking people).

I joke, but my friend has a condition called a chiari. Simply put, as I said, she has a bit o’brain sticking out from the bottom of her skull. She made me aware of it almost as soon as she was diagnosed. I’ve seen pictures and she has allowed me inside her year-long struggle with the progression of her condition, the fights with her insurance company, and the requirements that she get second, third and fourth opinions from hot-winded upstate New York neurosurgeons who think their name is spelled g-o-d. Jerks.

She’s facing brain surgery, if the scum-sucking bottom-dwelling pieces of sh*t at her insurance company will approve it already. Eff-sticks. Give me a phone, and get me the address to the New York State Attorney General, the Albany Times Union, and the NYS Insurance Department. A strongly worded letter will be sent to the Insurance Company Eff Sticks (and I work in the industry, can you imagine??) with cc’s to everyone that matters.

Lace won’t let me.

Interesting the individuals we meet on our path. Eight years ago, after cruelly mocking her twang and posting a vocabulary lesson outside my cube, we found out we both had an inordinate affection for the X-Files and soon discovered that we were kindred souls. Lace came to my house and saw dead people, I went to hers and hung out. (Dead people apparently shun me, though my house was teeming with them, they chose not to reveal themselves to me.)

When I went through one of the most difficult periods of my life ~ my separation and subsequent divorce ~ I tried, but was unsuccessful at keeping my anguish in. I didn’t say a whole lot in the office, and without a word, every few days or so, a beautiful biblical passage would wind up on my desk before I got in the office in the morning. Lacie knew I was in pain, wasn’t going to intrude, but she was there with her unspoken support. It was invaluable. In her uniquely beautiful and creative way, she made me collages, printed out pictures of Duchovny, made cards; anything to make me smile and let me know she loved me.

I live 400 miles away now, but it doesn’t stop us. We chat nearly every day. I rejoice with her on her good days and pray for her on her bad days. I’ve taken her to task for running/jogging/walking when her doctors have told her to cease and desist, but I encourage her freedom of spirit at the same time. She knows my most obsessive secrets and she delights in them. She’ll tell me I’m weird, but she makes it sound like a good thing.

She has even taken my dvds of “Emperor of the Sea” with Song Il Guk and hopes to watch it some day. That’s my definition of friend, right there.

More importantly, as she faces an enemy that would make me want to shrink inside myself (not the insurance company, but you can insert that here if you like, the stinking *&^% $#@!+* pond scum), she meets it head on with a strength, courage and profession of faith that astounds me. She stumbles, but gets back up. She sees hope in all things and rejoices. She feels comforted and strengthened in her weakness.

I am humbled by her in every way. I just wish I could do more.