The thought of breaking anonymity

... has only just occurred to me because I'm a cocky son of a bitch wanting to show off and post videos of myself.

I think I'll manage to resist the urge. You know the camera adds ten pounds.

So for a while now, a week or so, I've been meaning to get on here, skip the excuses and talk about my anxiety attack. Apparently I can't do that unless Michael Flatley makes me wanna take him on on the dancefloor and I wind up listening to Peruvian music and scheming and Machiavelling it.

So. I had an anxiety attack. My first ever. And I was very lucky to just be sitting in a doctors office so he could diagnose it all nice and official like. His bedside manner could use a little work, but I don't go to doctors to make friends out of them. I know it's just their pay the rent 9 - 5 and I don't usually need the extra coddling.

Apparently, if you walk me into your office, look at my hand, press my right thumb back and declare that I am not hypermobile and walk out... I. Cannot. Breathe.

Actually, at first I just sort of started leaking from the eyeballs. And no, that's not just a manly cover up for crying. Crying takes some sort of intent, or at least awareness. Nope, I just started leaking and then made weird faces cause no really, I'm leaking and don't know what to do about it. Then I got all embarrassed that people might walk by and be worried that I was crying by myself in a doctors office. So I told myself to stop, wiped my eyes.... and of course continued leaking.

It took me the ten minutes that he was gone to compose myself. The whole time I was very confused. I have H.M.S. I am the definition of hypermobile. I can disjoint my thumb at will. The rest of me dislocates against my will. Frequently. The running joke in my family is that I fall too fast for anyone to catch. Which is totally true.

Anyways... I was diagnosed pretty early on in my teenage years and subsequently had the rest of my life ruined.

Now just in case I find myself amongst the optimistic or the ruin lovers.. hey.. I love them too. I love visiting all kinds of ruins, climbing them, communing with them and just feeling the spirit of anything they have left behind. I think they're beautiful, and awesome in the actual definition of the word, as in awe inspiring, take your breath away awesome.

But a ruin is a ruin. And if the flaming wreckage of my life is functional/pretty/whatever, it is still a ruin.

I had plans. Ten plus years of my life were derailed and shit upon by this stupid disease that took out my kneecaps like a sniper. So.. I've been telling myself I was entitled to a full blown freak out and anxiety attack when some doctor looked at me for a literal not figurative ten seconds and drops the You're Not Hypermobile bomb on me.

So yeah.. that's been up.

The rest is pretty predictable. Obviously, this guy is in quack territory. Even if he's right, that's probably not the way to handle it. We're running tests. I'm going back to my primary doctor tomorrow. I've got some bones to pick with him too. He's apparently been sitting on some important bloodwork.

In the meantime I have asked all the traditional questions in my own non-traditional way.

Really? My son can make it rain and my claim to fame is anxiety attacks?
Wait a minute.. my people make the sun come out.. and are apparently so powerful that they can even make white folk feel something in the air when they do it and I'm a pussy who has anxiety attacks?
Hang on.. what about that time I cursed a boy.. I HAVE ANXIETY ATTACKS?!?!

Unfortunately, the comforting idea that it might have been a one time thing was shot down when I had some oral surgery a couple of days ago and freaked out there too. This time, no reason.

Gah. I'm so upset. SO UPSET. I am not an anxiety attack having person.

And yes, I know that saying something like that and then trying to explain it away is like someone saying, " I don't like black people... I'm not racist though." 

However, I don't hate people who have anxiety attacks. I don't think less of them for having them. I've had too many of them (people who have anxiety attacks) in my life to be that sort of ignorant. My hang up is more like.. utter confusion and loss of self. It'd be the same emotion if I woke up tomorrow and was told that it's common for fish to have anxiety attacks. Excuse me what? Oh yes.. didn't you know? You're a fish.  Umm.. I would think that was something I should have been told at birth. And yes... I know my control issues are showing, thank you very much.

So now.. I'm a fish who has anxiety attacks. And wants to outdance Michael Flatley. I could dance circles around him I could! You know... if my mama showed me how again... I've forgotten.

My poor mama. I gave her a heart attack. After I left the doctor's office shell shocked my feet apparently figured out that I should not go home and traumatize Bratexander the Great. Somehow I wound up at my mama's door. I've got no recollection of the trip though. All I had on me was my bus pass.

Then I forgot how to knock or ring a bell. So I just stood outside mewling "Mama..mama.." over and over again. When she opened the door, I couldn't walk in.

She later told me I scared her and she thought I wasn't even going to make it inside. She'd thought the doctor had told me I only had x many days left and she didn't know what to do.

Thankfully she patched me up, made me presentable and called me a cab home. Bratexander the Great was not traumatized and does not know that his parental unit was so badly damaged.

So obviously, I want him to learn Gaelic. What? I don't know. My brain isn't functioning fully yet. I haven't been sleeping at night. This started before the attack of doom though. I watched a funny video on youtube that was clips of Reagan from The Exorcist thrashing on her bed set to the song Whip My Hair by Willow Smith.

Don't get me wrong, that video was funny and I cracked up but I'm still petrified by that movie. I believe in possession you know? So... no sleeping at night lest Reagan gets me.. plus watching the new Lord of the Dance equals I need Bratexander the Great to learn Gaelic at the Irish Arts Center.

I also blame Bullseye. Damn them and their money stealing ways. They've got out all their St. Paddy's Day merchandise and we're going back to the IAC here in the city for their childrens open house.

So yeah.. I'm gonna outdance Michael Flatley and my son will speak Gaelic while I do it.

Anywho.. As I spell-check.. I notice I haven't actually talked about my anxiety attack. I've talked about the stuff leading up to it, and the stuff after.

The actual attack was a lot like drowning. Something I have some experience with, because I have asthma. I got a couple of scary attacks when I was very very young that were close calls. Drowning. No air in or out. Just a lot of gasping.

So.. I was leaking in one office for about ten minutes. Then the doc came back and moved me to another room. The first was his office, the second was the one with the exam table and all that. I sat. He sat. He started typing and asking some basic medical questions. I answered the first three or so, started leaking again, and then BAM. No air.

So, crying plus no air, plus hysterically asking what he means there's nothing wrong with me, equals a bonafide anxiety attack. A very nice well meaning nurse came in, asked what was wrong, then stayed with me to try and soothe me through it.

She was nice, but I'm not the sort of person that can be told " It'll all be alright" on a good day, let alone on a bad day. " You're not hypermobile" plus " It's all okay" ... Not helping.

I did eventually calm down though. At least, that's what shell shock feels like, calming down.

Then I freaked out the day before yesterday at the oral thing. Afterwards Punky was all " It's just the medicine making you emotional. You're okay." And I nearly tore her head off with my teeth.

This is apparently because she's a Granny Smith Apple. Look.. I've broken anonymity so bad it's not funny. If Satan ever wound up here, he'd know it was us right away. It's a pun on her last name. Apparently, her father also shoves both feet and a hand in his mouth around his anxiety prone wife.

Granny Smith Apples need to be re-educated.

On to better stuff... I was going to sign off and ask to be reminded to blog later about stuff, but I know I wouldn't get around to it, and the mood would pass. Tomorrow is visit the mama day.


Anywho... Last June, a Peruvian group put on Inti Raymi in the city. Inti Raymi is the Inca winter solstice. It's a festival of the sun. It takes place in Peru every June 24th and is a very big deal even today. Like Superbowl big. Maybe bigger since some people aren't sports fans. For Inti Raymi entire villages shut down and empty. No work, no stores, no restaurants, nothing but going to the festival.

Here a festival is rides, music, stalls, and food. There's some of that in Peru, but Inti Raymi is very different. It's more like a recreation event. Entire groups of people dress as hundreds of parts of people for the recreation. There's an Inca, priests, warriors, soldiers, farmers, dancers and more. Hundreds and hundreds of people in this giant play.

The Inca is like the King. Only, he isn't called King, he's called THE Inca. He leads ceremonies honoring his father the sun, asking for his love and mercy and all things good.

So... last June, a group I won't name because I have a love/HATE relationship with them, put on Inti Raymi. I just wish they hadn't done it in the backyard of a catholic church. Really? That's where we're going to practice our witchcraft? Whatever.

So.. the day of? Cloudy day. The sun could only really be seen in small five minute bursts. I sort of thought it sucked to have a cloudy day on sun worship day, but oh well, what can you do? Can't control the weather, right? Don't get me wrong, it was bright out.. I'm gonna edit some pics and put them up later, you'll be able to see... just no direct sunshine.

Anywho.. there's some traditional food being sold, a small area for vendors, and a place for kids to learn all about the culture. There was some time before the ceremony was supposed to start. It's more like a play than a ceremony really, but.. when it counted, they made the sun come out.

The priest did his thing, the soldiers of the four corners showed up and gave their reports to the Inca, the dancers danced. Etc. Then they start the ritual part and it's cloudy. We're outdoors, so I'm staring straight up at the sky, gauging how big the clouds are, and by my calculations, the current clouds up above us will be covering the sun up for a while. They weren't going anywhere.

But the Inca does his thing anyway, and talks to his father and asks for him to shine down. Bam. Outta nowhere. Sun. Clouds part and it's all but freaking holy. I thought it was a miracle coincidence, but Punky to this day teases me about being so out of touch that I couldn't feel what she felt. She says it was something in the air. Like something had been summoned. She says the only time she's felt anything like it was when she used to practice witchcraft.

That's my Peruvian Voodoo story for the night. I don't care if I didn't feel it, I'm still Peruvian and can claim that my people can make the sun come out.

If you'd like to see it for yourself, there's a show called 1000 places to see before you die. They have an episode in Peru, and it's up on YouTube in 5 parts. If you watch it, they go to Inti Raymi and something similar happens.

Peace and Long Life. Live Long and Prosper.
Just don't tell me I'll be fine.
-Angelwick

Turkey - dollbutt. Read to find out.

Woohoo. Blogging time. It's 9:32pm, and the hours are counting down too Thanksgiving day. Angel and I are waking up at 6:00am for the ziti and then 7:00am for the turkey. Which means Angel's probably going to be staying up between 6:00 and 7:00. I will be in bed sleeping thank you very much. Alright.. Probably not. Ill be in the kitchen with Angel.

So for the Pre-pre turkey day round up. The adventures I was talking about? Last night, when our brine turned colors, we made a new one. Thankfully that one kept it's pretty color until today. But.. while we were adding cold water to warm water, Angel decided it'd be a good thing to dump brine onto the floor and us twice. we had salt and sugar everywhere, and the kitchen still hasn't recovered. I'm going to go in there soon and do all the pre-cleaning. Sweeping, mopping, washing dishes, and maybe cleaning the oven. I should.. but I'm not sure if I should. We shall see.

In other news.. There's been something on my mind that I just haven't had time to blog about. I love, love, love, love the Monster High dolls. They are everything I wanted from my dolls growing up. I tried to goth, glam rock my dolls up. And then when I'm in my twenties.. Tada! Monster High dolls. Woohoo. I finally just got the vampire girl..

I can't explain to you how pissed off I am. I was in my world of happy, thinking about where I'd display her, and what to do with the little extras when I turned her around to check that her stand was in the right place... and I was faced with doll ass checks. Her "mini" is so mini that there is nothing there to cover her ass. Now.. I know.. It's a doll. But.. We're selling those to children? What is that teaching them? Not only should a doll's ass be covered.. As a gothrockertype girl.. Who happens to wear plaid skirts.. Why are we being showcased to wear our skirts so short? Yes, some girls do, but not all of us. I still can't believe it. I'm very seriously thinking about writing Mattel. I haven't whipped out the pen and paper yet.. but soon I might.

Oh the day that flew by

Oh me, oh my. Tonight was going to be my blog night since last night Angel had the honors. Yet, my dears, it's 4:00 in the morning and I'm about a pass out on the laptop. Brining was... Let's just say if we weren't smart, we might have ended up with a gray-blue turkey that no one would have touched with a ten foot pole. I wish I could even explain what happened to the brine we made last night but.. Angel and I have no clue. I pulled it out of the fridge and it wasn't the pretty clear pink it was after we made it. Oh well we said, and put another pot to boil.

I'll explain all the another kitchen adventures tomorrow. After shopping adventures.

Night!

xoxoxo
Punky

It's that time of the year again!

It feels a little redundant to gripe about my holiday woes yet again, but if I can't vent it out here, then where do I go?

First, The Good. We've got our turkey defrosting. We picked him up last week at the Halt and Buy. 58 cents a pound isn't quite the awesome 10 cents a pound sale from last year, but that was still the best deal in the city. He's a lovely twenty-three pounds, and this year Punky has named him Spartacus. He's actually what prompted the blogging tonight. It's Brine night here at Casa ... us. Almost forgot the anonymity thing.

So, there's a giant pot of water getting up to a boil on the stove, Punky on dishes, and me at the computer. I don't know if I've talked about it in detail before but we've got one cursed ass house. Haunted like nobody's business, and topsy turvy in the strangest of ways. Now that it's winter, if we cook a meal it's cold by the time we plate it and take it down the hall to the bedroom. Like, barely edible cold. Of course, if I boil some water and wait for it to cool down, it'll take about three days for it to cool. Topsy turvy.

Soo.. that's why the early start on the brine, just so that it has time to cool down. Good lord though, it has no right to smell this good in the kitchen over just some onions chopped up and thrown in water. I love onions, even if they are a pain to dice. I can't imagine a life without them. I do get to talk to Punky about her life without them though. When we first met, Punky came with a nearly mile long list of things that she would not eat. Onions were, of course, on that list. Now.. she can't live without them.

My current theory on food is that if there's something you don't like, it's only because someone hasn't fixed it right yet. As I get older, this becomes truer and truer for me by the day. I used to be the kind of kid who couldn't tolerate two drops of hot sauce in a dish, and now I make my own curry. I've learned to appreciate spicy food. I've even become fond of sweet potatoes. Also a food I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole back in the day.

Annnnd.. I'm glad to report that Punky has also come a long way on this food journey. In some ways, she's come a lot further than I have, since her previous affairs with food were more like tepid friendships than the true romance that exists now. She eats onions, and tuna fish and even onions in her tuna fish.

Thanksgiving is a great holiday for appreciating our culinary discoveries. Each year I try something a little new with the turkey, a different blend of seasonings or some such change. So far, all hits, no misses.

Speaking of hits and misses, Bullseye totally had an awesome deal going on with games and we picked up Battleship. Punky had never played before and Lady Luck was totally with her. She kicked my butt and now I'm totally looking forward to playing with Bratexander the Great on his holiday break. I think it's a game he'll be able to enjoy. Picking those out really involve some hits and misses.

Is anyone else doing anything for Black Friday? Punky and I are debating the midnight sales. There's not exactly a lot that we're hurting for, and most of the presents we're giving out this year are already picked out and some of them are even stashed in the closet already. Still, a sale is a sale, it might be worth poking it.

In other news, I've come a long way financially from where I was last year. Around this time last year I was approved for my first credit card. A secured line with a small limit, but it was meant to help build my credit report. That it did. My score is looking healthy, and I've gotten a handful of store cards since then. All of them managed quite responsibly, if I do say so myself. No looming debt, no nerves about money. All is in order. I'm just that much closer to the decade dream of a house and car for my family. That much closer to a yard and a garden and all the warm feelings that come with those.

I love New York, I do. It's always going to be my true home, but I can't wait to get out. I'm never going to be free of Satan as long as I stay.

What else is going on? Our new camera came in and I've got one less excuse not to blog. No new exciting pictures to share, but soon. In the meantime, we have some of last years photos still kicking about the computer.

Ta-da!

Brine is done, and I'm off to put my feet up for a bit. I'm kinda looking at a long day tomorrow.

-Angelwick

Halloween Weekend !

Woo... I'm still recuperating from all the fun of Halloween weekend, but I've recovered just enough to get back to blogging.

So.. the best of Halloween this year was that it was a full blown three day weekend. This year, instead of being the haunted house in our neighborhood, we decided it was time for Bratexander the Great's first Trick or Treating experience.

We kicked off the weekend at Central Park's Pumpkin Festival. Boy were we glad that this was a rain or shine event. It SNOWED. And good lord did all that snow look lovely in the park. Punky got a handful of pictures, but it was on a borrowed camera so we'll have to wait a while before we can post them up. We each got to pick out a small pumpkin for free, and got goody bags from Radio Disney. There were stickers, candy and lots of other goodies. We also met one of the park's rangers who talked all about the wildlife that could be seen there throughout the year. Best of all, the had a haunted house. This was of course Bratexander's first one ever. It was so good we did it twice... which then sort of became the norm for the weekend.

The next day we went to The Ghoul Pool right here in The Bronx. This was the pool house at Van Cortland Park which was transformed into an awesome haunted house. There were two separate sections so that families could choose to avoid the more scary part if they needed to. We all did the whole thing, and The Brat was a champ almost to the end. Instead of actors jumping out at him being the scary part, the scary part wound up being jello brains. They had that spooky guessing game where you blindly touch gross things. That seemed to be what messed with him the most. But, he got yet another goody bag and some candy, so all was well in the end.

On actual Halloween day we wound up trick or treating in TriBeCa, and Chelsea, before hitting up yet another haunted house and even a haunted forest.

The best part? All of the above adventures were free. Also.. Alex learned a thing or two about courage, lying, and facing his fears.

Bratexander the Great is a very sensitive child. So much so that once upon a time when he was a little younger, people couldn't laugh in his presence without him going into a tizzy thinking that they were laughing at him. Sooo.. parenting him is all about walking a very fine line. I believe that people should be allowed to be sensitive. I believe that boys should be able to cry without shaming. Yadda, yadda. On the other hand I also believe in making children strong, teaching them about having a backbone, etc. I don't think that the walks are mutually exclusive. So, yes he can be sensitive, and cry if his feelings are hurt, but he can also be a self secure boy, who knows how to let some things roll off his back.

The haunted houses turned out to be good teaching tools. At first he tried to lie about not being scared. When confronted about this, he got very upset, but then he grew a pair and decided he wanted to go through the haunted house again. So we did, and he was very brave about it and this time, he could honestly say that he wasn't scared. I hope that it's a lesson that stays with him.

Annnnnndd.... Now..Satan and his family are on the phone, so my thoughts are lost. Till the next blogging episode!

-Angelwick