Posts tagged orange county

Lessons in Love and Epilepsy

Brought to you by last night’s insane seizure and today’s fabulous nap.


I was just thinking how it’s been SO long since my last seizure and even the last one was SO minor I could barely feel it and aren’t I becoming the epilepsy poster child? 

Not so much.

Last night was an ass kicking of sorts.

And no one is to blame except for me.  Give me the epilepsy ticket if they are in the Giving Tickets Out sort of mood.  I have been going to sleep at 4am working way too late on my book.  I missed taking my medicine one night which is one night too many when you have seizures.  I had (a beer).  Shh.  Don’t tell my dad.  Yes, I think many people with epilepsy drink on occasion but, for me, since I’m not much the drinker it doesn’t set well with my brain.  Oh, and there was that half glass of champagne the night before.  And I think I had red wine somewhere on Sunday.

Don’t tell my dad ANY of that.  Yes, I know I’m 38.

So, it was the perfect storm and I should have seen it coming when that dog staring out the back of that wagon Volvo at McDonald’s locked eyes with me and wouldn’t move away.  Dogs know about seizures the way people don’t.  He knew even though I thought he was a she but then looked down and saw things hanging that were clearly of the he type.  The dog knew.  It crossed my mind that I knew.  I went about my day and stayed up late again and didn’t even think last night could have been MY last night.

It was a big one.  My brain shuddered.  I kept my breathing even.  Did all the things I know to do but then my damn face turned into the pillow Flo-Jo style.  Remember her?  Long nails, Olympic athlete.  Well, without the nails or the running or the cool outfit I was her for a moment and I didn’t want my face in a pillow with no ability to move.  I wanted a clear passage to breathe through this seizure until it ended. 

It felt like it would never end.

It did.  I lived.  I quickly fell back asleep out of an exhaustion most cannot imagine.  When I awoke in the morning I did the first post seizure thing I always do - checked to see if I knew what year it is and went through the past presidents.  Clinton’s in office, right? Check.  Knew ‘em.  Brain still semi-intact.

And then I wept. 

I wept for being alive.  Wept for having my face smothered in a pillow.  Clearly you should know that makes me not a fan of The CSI’s.  Wept for almost not living.  Wept for people that don’t.  Wept for those that have seizures in the middle of crowds.  Wept for being alone through it and being grateful no one had to go through that scare with me.  And wept that God gave me another day, even if just one more, to be a better me than I was yesterday.

My friend Red sent me a message and wants me to stop using pillows.  My brother said the same.  I’ve thought about it but I’ve made a decision.  I’m not going to live a life without pillows.  It’s sort of like love, you know?  Yes, a pillow could smother me that one time…that one night but the rest of the time it’s so damn comfy and brings great pleasure to my life.  I don’t want to live in fear with my head flat on the ground.

And love.  Sure, it could smother me sometimes, too.  That one time and that one night and the one man that breaks the heart might not be worth the pain but I don’t want to spend my life without love in fear. I’ll still search it out and be open to it and say yes to it.

I decided some time ago to say yes and not to say no to things.  I decided to take adventures and have a YES life.  Is there a chance it could end up bad?  Yup.  I’ll take the chance anyway.

Pillow.  Love.  Any of it. 

Much love and gratitude for one more day to love and learn and change and grow and be something better,
Cole

October Lessons

Brought to you by candy, of the sweet sort.

It’s been an interesting fall, hasn’t it?  Today was warm and yesterday, while setting up for our event, I was shielding my face from the sun in the hopes of adding not one more brown spot to this pre middle age face.  I’m not sure how successful I was.  I might start wearing a bag over it so if you see me and I don’t wave, well, now you know why.

An interesting fall it has been and even a better October full of bits of learnings and lessons and things I didn’t know and now I do.  And I don’t mean know in a BIG way but in that small tucked into your brain way that hopefully gets to the juicy parts and does the right amount of damage.  You know?  Makes change, bit by bit. 

I learned…

1. If a woman comes up to you, in a witch costume, beer in hand and starts yelling at you take it with a grain of witch-beer-infused salt.  She’s probably a little intoxicated and even though all of her meanness comes out in her heightened beer state and that witch costume might just be Business Casual and not for Halloween, chances are she didn’t mean to curse you, your future children or children’s children.

2. Saying sorries a decade later is good.  Saying them in a year is better.  Saying them in a month is really good.  The same week or day? Rather brilliant.  Imagine if you apologized immediately after making an ass out of yourself, you know, the very next moment?  That would be downright emotionally mature.  Plus it feels good to say sorry when you tell your bartender to, “Get this effin bar together.  Now!”  Yes, that was me.  Ugh.

3. Take responsibility.  If you screw up, don’t lay blame elsewhere.  Own it.  Not more than your part and not less than your part, just your part.  Be the exact opposite of every politician you know and forget about putting spin on your story.  Simply, say, “I blew it but I’m going to try not to blow it again.”  How quickly we could move on if we’d take some ownership instead of mastering spin.

4. Share.  Try your absolute hardest to think of someone before yourself.  I saw grown adults maul a candy bar and little kids stand there with empty trick or treat bags.  That’s not right, folks.  If you look around you, see - you there looking to the right and to the left - there are other people besides you.  Notice them and include them and think of them when you are filling your bag to the brim.  I think our bags are filled to the brim in many ways and can be shared with someone else.  Who needs your share?

5. Talk to strangers.  I don’t mean in that sordid pedophile way.  I mean talk to a stranger that is ten feet away from you and you’ve nodded at or waved to or thought of saying more than a hi or bye with for months.  Those strangers.  Have conversations that last longer than a sound bite.  Ask someone about their day or their life or their greatest love.  Imagine what you’d find out if you took the time to meet someone new.

6. Hot chocolate helps.  It helps everything.  Well, when it’s 83 degrees out it’s a little strange but on most October days if you’ll trust me and order it and add whip cream even though that will be so anti-wellness of you, it will help everything.  You’ll feel better and younger and you’ll remember you from back when you were…you.

7. Like your likes.  My niece Kristina just got her license which technically means she could drive when we go to LACMA but I’m not much of the “driving with a brand new driver on the freeway” sort of girl.  I think if you get the blessing of having children then you get the blessing of their freeway firsts, too.  So, Darling Girl wants to Museum Hop with me which makes me ultra happy and as we chatted I realized her tastes in art are very different than mine.  I like that.  I don’t need her to like my likes.  Are you liking your likes?  I hope so.

I ended today at a wake celebrating the life of a dear family friend.  Ninety-six years of life lived by a woman that chose to be full of grace and full of civility and showed love and kindness each time I encountered her.

That’s my goal.  I want that in my life.  Bits of learning and changes and growth and being less like today and more like I want to be tomorrow. Oh, that’s the plan anyway. Sometimes I blow it and sometimes my days are a smashing success. Today, well, today was a good one.


Much love to you as we peak our heads around the corner at November,
Cole

Lessons in Best and Worst

Brought to you by my favorite cream sort of peasant top that I love so much I bought two.

I asked you. I did. I asked you two things.
1. What was the best part of your weekend?
2. What was the worst part of your weekend?

And normally I gear the question to the ladies cause you men tend to hold back your words but you answered too and I love that.Wanna know mine?

The Best
Sitting around a dining room table BS’ing with my brother and sister-in-law. Riding in the car with Baby Brother. Darling Nieces Sweet Sixteen. Setting out platters. Decorating for things other than work. Hearing the high pitched scream only someone in their teens can master. Hot chocolate. The slight mist of rain that almost isn’t rain but puts a glow on traffic lights. Losing weight and not knowing it cause the scale hasn’t been working but you have. The whooshing of wet wheels on wet roads. Getting closer to the finish line of my first race. Street lamps. Front porches. Remembering being Evil Knievel Brave as a child and thinking that might come back. Detailed dreams without endings. Three books, dog-eared. Inspiring a love of museums in you. Air conditioning and windows open…cause I pay the bill.

The Worst
A remembering cry of grief that came from my toes and out of the top of my head. The second row of the theater. An empty tank of gas. Not having a band aid big enough for your wound.

And then it hits me. The Worst are still good even when they are bad.

My cry of grief was healing and brief and beautiful and muffled and I got through it quick because I knew where to go. And the second row of the theater isn’t wretched. I mean it’s not like I didn’t have somewhere to live. It was more an arching of the neck sort of in the middle of entertainment complaint. How bad can that really be? And an empty tank of gas? That means there’s a car to be filled and that’s pretty cool because I can fill it and take a couple adventures! And not having a band aid big enough for your wound - your loss, your hurt, your anger, your frustration, your unknown. I do have one, I do. The only place I know to go is to God. Maybe you have somewhere else and, hey, make it happen if it works for you. But I’ve tried Mint Chip Ice Cream.  It melts.

You all shared some of your best and worst this week with me. I love when you share. It’s sort of like pre-school but for us Pre Middle Agers. Kinda cool, you know?

The Best
Homecoming. Cuddling with Sailor Boy. Discussing Rapture and sex in same bible study. Taking son and daughter to a college expo. Son and friend built me a fence. Sex, diamonds, whisky, loved ones. Dancing at House of Blues while my hub and kids were home sleeping! Did my 10th race.

The Worst
Laryngitis. Sailor Boy puking on fave pair of heels. Sudden migraine on lazy Saturday. Weekend ending. The rain and…it’s cold! A misunderstanding. Not getting enough sleep (baby didn’t care mommy stayed out late!) Suffering from injuries.

Much love to you this quiet night with one car whooshing past every now and then and the occasional rain drop,
Cole

Lessons in Secrets

Brought to you by things my mother told me never to do and the fall, ‘cause I like it.

My mother always said we could never
1. Get a tattoo.  I didn’t and then she died so I never can.
2. Take out gum at church and certainly never in public unless “you have enough to share with everyone”.  Everyone is a lot of damn people.
3. Whisper.  She hated whispering and to this day I do, too.  Whispering oozes of things you want to say to one person and not to many persons.  Whispering is about things that are private.  I’m much more the public sort. 

And to be honest, this past month has been a brainful.  So, until I could gather the thoughts in my pretty, dirty blonde, roots showing head I felt it best to stay on the silent side of things. 

The secret is though….the whisper in your ear though….the thing you know though is that there are things that sit heavy on my heart and for today, I’ll share the ones that comes easily to mind:

I’m embarrassed for complaining about not having a car for two weeks, getting a rental today and then seeing a homeless man riding a bicyle with his belongings.  I’m tearing up now thinking about how ungrateful I sounded this past 14 days.  I have a beautiful, safe home and heat and water and sometimes electricity when I remember to pay the bill.  And there is food to eat and people to check on me.  And seeing a man near 80 years old quietly riding his dilapitated bicycle loaded with the contents of his life made me shudder.  I’m sad tonight about that.  It’s not okay and being unsettled about it is good.

At my very core, I’m brilliantly scatterbrained.  I could start a million companies and, more than likely, at least ten more tonight with a good cup of hot chocolate in hand.  It wouldn’t do you or me or anyone else any good.  I don’t like that about me.  I want to do one thing well and then maybe add a second thing. 

I’m sort of selfish.  Yah.  I’ve been tired of late.  I’ve wanted Me Time and not You Time and finally understand when people have asked the same of me.  Occassionally you just need to put the “Closed For Business” sign up and mine is going up more often than it used to.  For sanity, for business, for the sake of growing a personal life that sometimes bleeds into a very public life, I need to once in awhile put up the sign.  I hope you’ll love me in spite of that.  I hope you’ll trust I’ll come back more energized when I open for business each time next. 

I get frustrated.  I was sitting at Happy Nails getting a pedicure today and a grown daughter and her mom were sitting side by side completely ignoring each other on their mobiles.  On the rare occassion they would say something to each other but it was limited.  Then they would go back to their phones.  I wanted to scream, “Tell each other you love each other!  Say you’re mad.  Say you’re happy.  Say something!”  I wonder sometimes if it’s better if I simply pick up a magazine and disengage but I’m not sure how to once I’ve put my life in Drive.

Those are some of my secrets.  The only time my mom said it was okay to whisper was in libraries or, I guess, at funerals.  Definitely, most definitely it wasn’t okay to whisper to tell a secret.  “What you have to say to her, you can say to everyone.”

So…Everyone…I’m a human being but you already knew that.  And I love that you love me in spite of that.

A couple more lessons for the road, shall we? 
1. Imagine closing every door gently.  Say goodbye to The Slam.
2. Celebrate things like National Peanut Butter Cup Day. 
3. Bake rather than buy.  Your perfect is prettier than their perfection.
4. Read your pissy emails three times before you send them and delete them before you send them.  So, umm, don’t send them.
5. Let people cut in front of you to build your patience.
6. Don’t pick Pre Middle Age fights.  You’re too Pre Middle Age old.
7. Sure, McNuggets are made out of chicken bone and chicken eyelid paste (allegedly) but try to find a better Diet Coke.
8. Men - learn to hold doors for women even if no one taught you to growing up.
9. Women - learn to let men hold doors for you even if no one taught you to growing up.
10. Be nicer.  Not meaner. 

Much love in the loudest non whisper I can muster on this sweet fall night,
Cole

Lessons in Yoga

Brought to you by fake nails. Ten of them.

Reasons to take The Damn Yoga. In no particular order.

Increased energy.
Roman sat down next to me yesterday and when I complained about being so tired thinking I might be pregnant which is impossible since it requires sex he asked, “Maybe it’s that hot flash thing?”

Camaraderie.
I walked up to someone’s desk this week and said, “You didn’t help me pick music so Saturday, you can ZIP IT.” That’s not in most teambuilding books.

Step Relations.
My Stepmother. Even looking at her made me ill this past Sunday. She doesn’t like me and I’m doing my best to love her. I think Yoga would make me adore her. All those endorphins and “I Think My Stepmom Is The Bomb” type feelings will come rushing in when she looks me up and down. I just know it.

Traffic Safety.
I’m certain the practice will center me more and my frequency of hitting cement poles will lesson. And, rather than brake checking close drivers like my niece advises, I will continue to get out of my car and tell drivers to CHILL. Still hoping they are not packin and thus yoga attenders as well.

General Overall Peace, Love and Coleness.
I need this. The sound of someone getting their fake nails filed (who still does that?) makes me want to run into oncoming traffic. That’s when you know you need The Damn Yoga. And when you call it The Damn Yoga instead of Yoga, that’s when you really need The Damn Yoga. I can feel the deep breaths already.

Where’s my mat? I lose it every six months or so. Think it’s under the kitchen sink. Still wish I could spray paint it brown.

Human, full of flaws and moments I wish I was better and not worse,
Cole

Lessons from Toys ‘R’ Us

Brought to you by Play-Doh and the smell of it squishing between your adult fingers.

I was on the hunt for the perfect, huge doll house to hold down 1000 balloons Friday night for an event Saturday which is the way I do things.  I wait until the night before or the moment before and try to make perfection happen. 

Toys ‘R’ Us was all out of perfect, huge doll houses.  They had lots of small, lovely, dainty ones and pretty, delicate, tiny ones that would break if you looked at them wrong.  Those type don’t hold down 1000 balloons.  They cry in the corner at the thought of 1000 balloons.

Still, I learned a couple things during my Toys ‘R’ Us visit.

1.  Middle aged men should probably not roam the store smelling of beer and hovering in the Barbie aisle.  Can you say creepy and cops are on the way?
2. If you are single and childless or have long since entered a toy store of this sort, follow a parent-type in.  They know the entrances from the exits and will help you from looking like a jacka**.
3. Toy stores are not really intimidating.  Simply think of them like giant Targets but with sirens and eternal supplies of batteries.
4. Everybody needs a pink Barbie microphone.  (I’ll be right back.)
5. If you see a stuffed hippo sitting all by himself, yes him, it is your duty to save.  Try not to talk to Jack, yes Jack, in a loud voice for fear of someone taking you out in a straight jacket.
6. Play-Doh helps.  It helps in nearly any situation.  I gave some to a co-worker today that was having a tough go of things.  If you squish it between your hands and smell the Play-Dohness of it all, you’ll begin to feel much better, much sooner than if you don’t.  Promise.
7.  The woman in front of you in line that is melting down because she doesn’t have her Toys ‘R’ Us Rewards card needs: to get a grip and wear denim shorts that cover her fifty year old a**.  (Wait a second while I light your cigarette.  Ugh.)
8. Don’t get mad at the check out guy for asking Would you like batteries with your purchase? even if you don’t need batteries for your stuffed hippo or your Play-Doh.  He’s doing his job and following the sign and if he doesn’t ask he’s going to get written up so go along with it and thank him for asking.  Just play along, won’t you?
9. Look.  Look at the six foot tall man made out of Legos and stop to stare at the new backpacks coming in just in time for Back to School and think about your excitment when you would pick out your backpack and how important that was and then, for a moment, spend some time bouncing a big, red, rubber ball, well, just because it’s in that bin.  You don’t have to pretend to be a child but you can still play.  No one said you can’t.

Much play to you,
Cole

Lessons in Messy, Beachy Love

Lessons in Details and Gratitude

Brought to you by a McDonald’s large, not medium, Diet Coke.

It’s Friday and the end of a very, ultra busy event week.  I have sore everything and things are throbbing that shouldn’t throb.  On top of that, on a morning where I should bask in the glory of my amazingness, which is what I do the mornings after events, I had a press conference to stage.

*cursing under my breath and out of my bed which I did not want to get out of*

It’s post press conference.  I park underground, come inside my apartment, kick off my heels and instantly feel grateful.  I mean grateful in the hugest way someone can feel grateful.  Grateful like empire state building or egyptian pyramid big grateful.  That grateful.  But it’s for the little things.  The detail things.

Here’s a couple I thought I’d share.

Feet free from four inch heels.  Large diet cokes when you normally get medium diet cokes - especially hot days with air conditionless cars.  Service managers that say, “I know others don’t see but I see you - you have your eye on everything, Cole.  I see.”  Sunglasses that shade harsh sun and brief frustrations.  Showing grace when I only want to show ‘strangle’.  Home air conditioning set low and then lower again.  Mixing up all The Godfather movies to make my own synopsis.  Assistants that finish my sentences and understand my different head nods.  Men that remember.  Summers.  Being called a sexy, smart damsel in distress.  Working until my team stops working. Necklaces that turn into bracelets that turn into sometime belts. Tears that last three minutes instead of three days.  Sweaters.  Messy beachy hair.  Almost biting my nail but then not because things really are okay.  Little boys with summer tans that scrunch their noses when they answer you.  Girls that proclaim their favorite color is pink until their favorite color is green.  Oh, and nicknames.  I love a good nickname.

I like details.  I love the little things.  I’m enjoying this summer, this Can’t Decide If I’m Going To Be Hot Or Cold Summer.  It’s fickle.  I understand it.  It’s sort of like a woman that way.  I get that.

Much love to you as you pay attention to the little details of your very big every days,
Cole

Lessons in Wills

Lessons in Crowds

Brought to you by sparklers and the joy of writing your name with one.

Sunday night and I had two fairly enticing options: go to Pacific Symphony’s Firework event at Verizon Wireless Ampitheater or grab a bottle of wine, some very bbq-ish food, sit on the hood of my car and watch fireworks old school.

I did a little of both.  I’m sorta like that.

I like days that don’t have much in the way of structure to them.  Come when you want and go when you want and have dinner when you want and eat macaroni and cheese with bacon when you want.  Those sort of days.  Today was one of them.  I finished with a perfectly greasy meal and, it being still light out, figured heading over to the ampitheater might be worth while.

It was. 

So, there was this perfectly lovely event and as it ended there were sudden mad dashes for the exit.  Rather than join the crowd, I sat back and…watched.

There are interesting things to see when you watch the crowd.

The Hand Gesturer.
He’s standing in the midst of the crowd and melting down.  Though I do think he’s talking to himself as a coping mechanism and I can completely appreciate that.  It’s the hand gestures that make me wonder if he’s going to pull a machete anytime soon and take out half of Orange County.  Keep thinking of happy, soft places, sir. You’re almost out of the crowd.

Look at Me Guy.
He speaks loud enough for half of the crowd to hear him, “I’m SO glad we got the good seats and not the ones 30 rows back.  Aren’t YOU?”  He sees me roll my eyes at him and quiets down a bit.  I’m not fond of The Loud having been one in my past life.

The Comedian.
Okay, my favorite.  Mid to late fifties, walking down the stairs and getting in the crowds, always looking for the laugh sort of guy.  He says, “I lost my wife, but that’s okay.  If you find her you can have her.”  His wife is right behind him rolling HER eyes. 

Sequined Hat Woman.
She’s around 84 and is wearing a sequined top hat that has been sat on at least 37 times.  If you saw the way she wore it though you’d smile like I did.  She walks by me and I mention my admiration.  Her response, “It’s old but I’m never going to stop wearing it.”  When you’re 84, the style rules no longer apply to you. 

(Please, please shoot me in the back of the head if I turn into a sequined top hat wearing old woman.  Please.)

No, this wasn’t the same crowd as the Sting concert and there weren’t waitresses coming by for my drink order and the line for the disabled shuttle was longer than the VIP drink line.  Still, I think the stories this crowd could tell would be richer any day.  At the end of the event, the conductor of the symphony honored the members of the armed forces by playing each of the marches.  As they played you saw young and old stand and reach across aisles to salute and nod at each other.  Nods full of layers.  Nods full of life.  Nods full of sacrifice and struggle and decisions. 

You get to wear a freakin’ sequined top hat when you’ve sacrificed for your country.  And you get to talk to yourself in crowded lines that make you nervous when you’ve given years in service for our freedom.  And you get to make silly cracks at your wife’s expense when you have to leave your country and work overseas.  And you get to talk overly loud…..well, no….you don’t get to do that, sir.  You’re still too loud. 

A big, sequined, sparkler written thank you.
Cole