So, I found a bellydance class, and I’m starting in July. I’m pretty psyched about it. But due to a very unfortunate mix-up, I tried to drop in on the intermediate class yesterday. And I hesitated about blogging this, in case the teacher ever finds it (and probably feels bad – but, really, she shouldn’t, because it’s all down to my own issues), but it’s shit that happened to me, shit dealing with my anxiety and stuff, so…here I am, vomiting it up shamelessly on the interwebs. See, I’d emailed the teacher two Fridays ago – classes seem to run in six-week sessions, and you can drop in anytime, but I figured it might be better not to drop in on the last Spring beginners’ class (yesterday) but to wait for the next round of beginners’ classes (July) and start from the very beginning. The teacher agreed that it might be better to wait for the next round of beginners’ classes, but then suggested I drop in on the next intermediate class, as they’d be going over basic moves, isolations, and conditioning, and it would be a good basis for my future studies. The mix-up was that I interpreted “come to the next intermediate class” as the next one held after that email was sent (which was yesterday’s class), when the teacher meant the first intermediate class of the next round of classes (which is in about two weeks).
So, all last week I was so nervous about showing up for this bellydance class, and whether I knew enough from exercise videos to keep up with the intermediate students, and you know, then there’s my social phobia – so worrying about not knowing a single person and being in a group of strangers. Whatever. I was also worried about liver shit, so I’ve woken up nervous to the point of nausea every morning, and had to take klonopin semi-regularly, and definitely more often than I’d like. But I don’t want to let fear or anxiety keep me from doing something I’m so excited about and want to do, so I just tried to push it down and ignore it. I also had to find some pants, because the exercise…capris I normally wear are possibly a little too loose/bulky and noisy for bellydance (they’re cotton, but they kind of rustle and I didn’t want to disrupt class or anything – ridiculous, but I’m a worrywort). Do you know how fucking impossible it is to find yoga/pilates-type pants with a drawstring and pockets? I got some yoga pants with the cute foldover top and no pockets, but they’re stretchy and slinky, and I’m a little concerned that if I’m gyrating vigorously, they might slowly fall down. And I’m not really worried about dropping-trou totally in class, but I don’t want to be constantly hitching them up, which I think is a probability with that pair of pants, cute as they may be. Hence drawstrings. And I might need to use my inhaler, and don’t want to be disruptive getting it out of my bag, hence pockets. So I went all over looking for fucking pants – and you cannot find the right style of pants with both pockets and a drawstring. I did find some thick as shit athletic pants with pockets, but they’d be too sweaty, and, really, the right type of fabric and the drawstring are the pertinent parts of this equation. So, I ended up getting some pants with drawstrings and no pockets.
Anyway, so yesterday. Clothes that are at least somewhat practical for bellydance (as it turns out, the pants are slightly too long, and I need to hem them or something), a notebook and pen for taking notes, my inhaler, a bottle of water, etc, etc, directions to the studio, ready to go. Nervous as shit, but also excited. Get there, make it through the warm-up, still nervous, but dealing – and a couple references to “choreography” have been made, so I’m like, “Is this a problem? Did she change the lesson plan? But she told me to come to this class, so….” After the warm-up, she finally notices me, and is like, “I don’t recognize you. You’re welcome to be here, but this is the last class of this round of intermediate classes, and it’s going to be really fast-paced so I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep up with the choreography.” FUCK. So then I was all, “But you emailed me? And told me to come?” And of course she didn’t remember, didn’t recognize my name, so then I’m like, “You said I should come to the next class, because it’d be on basic moves and isolations, and make a good foundation for the beginners’ classes?” At which point she’s like, “Oh crap. I’m kind of bad about ‘next’ – I meant the *next* class.” And she was really nice about it, and gave me the options of staying and trying to keep up, or watching to see kind of what class is like – but I was mortified at that point, and just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. I mean, social phobia, plus anxiety all week long, plus I forgot to mention the night before I’d had nothing but tons of nightmares about doing shit wrong in class and her calling me out in front of everyone else about it. So, total panic. I was like, “Thanks, but I’m just gonna cut out.” Grabbed my shit, and made it downstairs and out of the studio before I burst into tears and started hyperventilating. Awesome. I mean, totally not anyone’s fault, and just an unfortunate convergence of shit – but a fucking fiasco and basically the worst possible shit to happen at the time if I’m trying *not* to have a meltdown. So I booked home, took two klonopin, and then waited for them to kick in.
Even better? All I did was the warm-up, and there was nothing in the warm-up I haven’t done before or was unfamiliar with, and I didn’t feel like I was pushing myself particularly hard – but I’ve somehow managed to fuck up my left hip. I can’t fucking walk normally today. I was going to mow the yard – now Greg has to do it (which of course he’s like, “It’s cool, you’d do it for me if the situation was reversed,” but I feel guilty because of course I do). If I’m sitting on the couch, and I go to shift my weight, I have to do it slowly or it hurts so fucking bad and so sharp. Insane.
But yesterday I did do some gardening, and we hung out with Rick in the evening, so, not all bad. We have this tiny (and non-draining) planter for herbs – a Buzzy kit we got at Lowe’s or Home Depot. Anyway, it’s got oregano, parsley, and chives, and they badly needed transplanting, so I did that, putting them in some empty Cafe du Monde cans and plastic bottles. I ran out to AC Moore for pebbles to put in the bottom (to help draining), and picked up a big tin bucket, two packets of lettuce seeds, and a packet of jalapeno seeds. Greg and I have been talking about getting one of those salad planters, like they have at the farmer’s market, where it’s all salad greens and lettuce and you just pluck your greens. Well, we haven’t gotten around to getting one, and they’re usually like $15-20, but the tin, pebbles, and two types of lettuce came out to about $8. (We’ll see if it actually works out like I want it to.) I put the oregano in the Cafe du Monde cans (after hammering some holes in for drainage, of course); I put the parsley in one Fiji bottle, and the chives in another; I put the jalapeno seeds in a oolong tea bottle; and I also finally got around to putting together the Buzzy hanging strawberry planter kit. Our tomatoes are doing pretty well, too. Not so much the blueberries, though – the plant is still growing, but no berries.
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RIP Farrah Fawcett. Classy, classy lady, who fought cancer bravely, and, I think, did alot to raise awareness of it – which is always a great thing.
I’m happy Ryan O’Neal was by her side when she passed. I’m sad they didn’t have enough time to finally get married, but she was with people who loved her (O’Neal, her best friend, maybe some others I’m forgetting – I didn’t catch whether Redmond got a special release to visit her). Anyway.
Today was pretty awesome.
It’s been rainy all day – love that.
I actually got a full 30 minutes on the treadmill at the gym – appreciated that. (You can only sign up for 30 minutes, total, but between getting to the gym after work, signing up, and then leaving myself a minute to wipe off the parts I put my sweaty hands on, I usually only get about 20-25 minutes. You can sign up in fifteen minute blocks, on the quarter hour. So, if I get off work at five, run over to the gym for thirty minutes, intending to leave at 5:30 so we can fix and eat dinner before I am so fungry I rip bitches’ heads off, I have to sign up for the 5-5:15 and 5:15-5:30 slots, except I *just* got off work at 5 and had to walk over to the gym. And then check out a lock and lock up my shit. So it’s closer to 5:06 by the time my ass is actually on a treadmill. But not today! Score!)
I knew I liked bellydance, but today I discovered tribal fusion bellydance (more specifically, Rachel Brice) – and I sooooo have to learn this. Tell me this is not the hottest shit you’ve ever seen. You can’t.
Yeah. (Thanks to the fine people over at Coilhouse for introducing me to Rachel Brice’s work.)
On top of all that! I got my results from last week’s blood test for my liver levels: TOTALLY NORMAL!!! Not even barely elevated. Hot shit! I’m so ecstatic I could shit kittens! I still have to get an ultrasound tomorrow, and go to the Liver Clinic next Wednesday, because I still have fatty liver and we need to keep an eye out/work to get rid of it. But I am so utterly, utterly happy that (so far at least) my liver seems to be fine and it’s not too late to reverse the fatty liver.
I hooped for about 45 minutes tonight, while singing along to songs on my ipod. I restarted the hoop at the beginning of each song, just to make it easier on myself, and managed to keep the hoop up for the entirety of each song. Go me. My lung capacity? Belting ‘em out for 45 minutes while hooping vigorously? Yeah. Also pretty damn badass.
Today was…interesting. Not so bad, but…then I had to be a dumbass and look shit up on the interwebs, even though I knew it was a bad idea.
So, my liver enzymes are slightly elevated. If I understood correctly, there are two enzymes or enzyme levels or whatever they check for. Normal levels of each is 50; mine were about 61 and 72, I think? So, not terrible, but raised. And it’s totally possible that it’s due to all the tylenol and ibuprofen I’d been taking while I was sick. Anyway, I was expecting to have more blood drawn, so they could run more tests, so I took a full dose of klonopin before hand, in the hopes that I’d be calmer for the blood-draw. And that worked. Greg came back with me, and, if I do say so myself, I took the blood-draw like a champ, thanks to the klonopin and the butterfly needle. Oh yeah, and the person who drew my blood (Rachel) being awesome and nice about it. I love my doctors. If I haven’t said that before, let me just say it now. They’re awesome. I wasn’t sure how quickly we’d move on the ultrasound – whether it would be like, “Let’s schedule this for next week,” or if it’d be more like, “Oooooh. Let’s get this done today, we can fit you in over at this place.” So I took the whole day off. Well, turns out I didn’t get an ultrasound today. But I *am* getting one, just to check on my liver and compare it to the records from three-four years ago, to see how it’s doing. That’s next Wednesday at 8:30 in the morning, which is…kind of early, but whatever, it needs to be done. I’ll drop Greg off at work super early, and go get my ultrasound, and then we’ll go from there. It shouldn’t be that bad – since it’s not a pregnancy ultrasound, I don’t have to keep my bladder full for them to press against (pressing against it which makes the need to piss even worse). And since I don’t have gallstones, hopefully it won’t hurt as bad as it did last time. And hopefully my liver isn’t totally fucked, so that won’t hurt either. It probably won’t be comfortable, but it’ll be okay.
My doctor’s also gotten me into the Duke Liver Clinic, to deal with/keep an eye on my fatty liver. I know this is a good thing, but frankly it’s the part that scares me the most. The clinic will call me and set up an appointment, and it’s not going to be any time super soon. And that’s good – it means I don’t really have anything to worry about with my liver. If I did, my doctor would’ve called them and set up an appointment super soon. But I’m afraid that at some time they (the Liver Clinic) are going to want to do a biopsy, and that scares the absolute shit out of me. I read some stuff about liver biopsies, and apparently they sedate you, so that’s good. (I mean, I don’t think I could hold still for it stone sober, even if it doesn’t hurt and is just pressure.) I read someone’s account of getting a liver biopsy with local anesthetic, and he said it was *nothing*, and that’s good, too, but apparently I may also have the option of requesting general anesthetic for it – which is totally the wuss’s option, but I’m a fucking wuss, y’all. I don’t want a repeat of the hand-IV debacle. I know I’m catastrophizing, and anxious, and I’m not currently scheduled for a biopsy and there’s a very good chance I may never need one – but it still scares the shit out of me. What is my problem? What is with this needle/blood/surgery phobia?
Enough of that bullshit. So the doctor’s appointment today went well, and then it turned out well that I took the whole day off because between the klonopin and having some blood drawn (I always feel a little tired after that), I was WIPED. We went home, had a quick lunch, and I went straight to sleep for about three hours. And then I got up only because I’d feel guilty about sleeping any longer. But I totally could have slept all day, easy. Anyway, I’ve been doing some planning/plotting/note-taking for an upcoming Eberron game I’m running (this Friday, and the last time we played was seriously like a year ago, so, yeah, prepwork).
Why the fuck am I watching Raising Helen? Oh yeah, because the second disc of Manor House was broken. (What is up with that, Netflix? It’s the second disc in two weeks I’ve had to return to you for replacement, because it was broken when it arrived. It’s not us. So, is it you, or our mail carrier, or what?)
Anyway, I guess I should either go continue Eberron planning (I’ve got more notes/prepwork to do, and two more mini-newspapers to create), or work on that crocheted dalek. But I feel like I should stick some pictures on this, so it won’t be so boring. So, here goes.
This is what I felt like *before* the appointment (and before the klonopin kicked in), all anxious and shit:
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This is my stupid band-aid, before I removed it. I hate taking off band-aids, because whether you do it fast or not, it hurts. So I leave them on all day in the hope that the adhesive will wear itself out anyway, but then I always end up having to pull it off myself. Boo. Anyway, pre-rip:
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This is my fucking bloody band-aid. Seriously, what the fuck is up with all that blood? Thursday, I got stuck TWICE in my arm, and there was no blood on the cotton ball nor on the band-aid. So what’s the deal today? Gross.
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This is my poor, poor, pincushion inner elbow. I can see the poke marks, but maybe you can’t, so I used a bobo free function in Picnik (hell no I’m not paying for premium, especially when I can’t see the brush I want in premium anyway, and especially since I’m about to be spending more money than I want making sure my damn liver is alright, HUFF!) – anyway, so the black spots in the second version are pretty much where my needle marks are. Pobre, pobre mio.
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And this is pretty much how I feel after acting like a goddamn adult and being a champ about having my blood drawn today (even if I had to have klonopin help me do it, whatever, it still counts). This is, uh, before I had to be a dumbass and read about liver biopsies, but whatever. I’m just going to pretend 1-they don’t exist, and 2-I won’t ever be getting one, until I’m forcibly forced to admit otherwise to myself. So, this is basically how I’m feeling now:
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Also, my hair was super, duper cute today. But I didn’t get a picture of it. Oh well. You’ll just have to take my word for it.
Well, my liver levels are somewhat elevated. So, when I go back on Wednesday (which was supposed to be just a follow-up to discuss fatty liver), I get to have more blood drawn, and possibly an ultrasound. Awesome. Today was kind of rough.
Anyway, I finished my crocheted, beaded bracelet. I used this pattern from futuregirl.com, and aventurine chips. I think it turned out pretty cute. And I’ve got more beads for a second bracelet, as soon as I decide what color thread to use.
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Fucking awesome anniversary weekend! Friday night, Greg took me to dinner at Twisted Noodles. It had been recommended to us a couple times, but we weren’t sure what their vegetarian options were like, so we hadn’t gone yet. Actually, we were going to go to Saladelia’s, but then at the last minute (in the parking lot), Greg suggested Twisted Noodles. Holy shit, they are amazing! (As it turns out, everything on their menu can be made vegetarian or vegan, and spicy or mild.) I got the Mussaman Curry with tofu, because I knew I’d like it (and it was incredible); Greg tried Tom Kha Noodle Soup with tofu instead of meat – it was soooo good. That’s totally what I’m getting next time. Greg had practice with Zardoz, and Kimmie came over with Jeremy and we (Kimmie and I) played around with our ukuleles – it was more or less successful. Some songs are easier than others. But it was fun. Kimmie also showed me a uke cover of Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” and it is pretty awesome. Check it out:
After Zardoz practice, we all (me, Greg, Jeremy, Kimmie, and Rick) went to see Star Trek. So good! Even Greg liked it, and he is notoriously picky. In fact, he loved the score and wants to get it.
Saturday was our actual anniversary. At ten, a guy came out to give us an estimate for fixing the garage door springs. (One of them is broken, so we can’t get the door open, so we can’t get the mower out, or do yard work. Kind of a bummer. And also, it’s better to get both springs replaced at the same time, when one breaks.) The quote was pretty good, so that was nice. Then I made pressed, sauteed vegetable sandwiches from an issue of Vegetarian Times, and we ate them on the front porch – we were going to have a picnic, but it looked a little like rain, so we compromised. Then we took the umbrella with us to Duke Gardens and walked around for an hour. Duke Gardens is lovely, as evidenced by these pictures. (Actually, the first picture is mimosa flowering in our driveway, but it was taken when we were leaving for Duke Gardens, so it counts.) (PS: Get ready for lots of pictures, with some comments interspersed.)
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This time, we explored some paths I don’t think we’ve been down before. I noticed more oriental-inspired decorations – little temple statues, bamboo fountains, and stuff. There was even a Shinto temple/hut thing, but there was a family resting in it, so I didn’t take a picture. (I didn’t think they would want to be blasted on the internets, you know.)
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I asked Greg to smile, and he grimaced at me. It looked scarier or meaner in person, but somehow it didn’t come out that way in the picture. I think it’s the blurriness. Hmm.
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And ginkgo trees! I love them!
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LOTS of beautiful daylilies and tigerlilies! The “flower” setting on the camera captured them wonderfully, but picnik had some trouble getting the colors just right, so believe me that these are even more vibrant on the camera and in real life.
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Some funny looking geese and ducks (a kind of ugly goose, and a weird black duck with a red beak that blended to kind of pink at one end), and some young ducklings (and even some wee tiny baby ducks, but they were too far away to get a good photograph).
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And hydrangeas – I love hydrangeas, too.
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And a hidden nest – new baby ducks on the way!
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And waterlilies! I never realized how pretty waterlilies are before. And the magnolias smelled divine.
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And a fern-filled ravine under a bridge, and a remote stone bench.
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And wee baby turtles And blooming cactus! And a blooming yucca, like the one in our driveway (but ours hasn’t bloomed yet).
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After Duke Gardens, we went over to Dogstar for tattoos (my eighth, Greg’s first!). I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if you’re looking for a tattoo parlor, you can’t do any better than Dogstar. They’re talented, professional, and the “chairside manner” is impeccable. I can’t recommend them enough. Anyway, usually I consider a tattoo for ages before getting one, and I had three I was kicking around in my head as possible “next tattoos” – but in the end, I didn’t go with any of them, and got something I’d kind of considered off and on for several years but never really went with because I felt like “tattoos should have some deep personal significance” blah blah blah. I mean, don’t get me wrong – that’s a great reason for a tattoo (personal significance), and most of mine have that. But tattoos that are just cute and fun, or purely decorative, they’re alright, too. So I got a strawberry on the back of my neck. Greg got an image of Baphomet, which he’s been considering for a while – but the interesting coincidence is, we were watching a special the other day on the Knights Templar, and they supposedly confessed to worshipping Baphomet. BUT – if you use a Judaic cipher, “Baphomet” is code for “Sophia,” the goddess of wisdom. So it’s possible that, while they were eventually burned as heretics and devil-worshippers, the Templars were involved in goddess-worship or worshipped wisdom. (Or were just plain Christian, but some other people wanted to take them down and fabricated the devil-worship stuff. I mean, they did confess under torture, and we all know what those “confessions” are worth.) Anyway, that’s not really got much to do with the tattoos, just a synchronous side-note. Greg’s tat came out really, really nice – it’s fucking sweet. (And Nathan at Dogstar did it engraving-style, so, even more awesome. I had William again, and I couldn’t be happier.) It looks like, in the picture, mine’s a little off-center, but 1-it’s incredibly hard to check placement when you’re looking in a mirror into another mirror behind you, and 2-I don’t really care if it *is* a little off. I think it’s like the ones on my wrist, and it’s pretty centered, but might look a little off depending on the angle you view it at, and how I’m standing or holding my neck and shoulders. (My wrist tats “move” quite a bit, depending.) So I’m happy. And it’s a cute little strawberry. 
The only complication is keeping my longass hair off it. (And I was planning on dyeing it and getting it cut soon, but I think now it would be prudent to wait for my tat to heal. So….no hair changes for about 2-3 weeks, plus I’ll probably wear it up to keep it off the tat. On the other hand, I need to keep the tat out of the sun, so maybe keeping the hair down would be better? Itchier, probably, though.)
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Then we went home, and let our tats chill out for a while, then removed the bandages and washed them. And then I got all dolled up, with some new makeup and new fake eyelashes. Excuse my vanity, and check this shit out – I can’t remember the last time I wore so much makeup, but I think it’s kind of cute. (And I must admit that my latest bout of enthusiasm for girly-ness and makeup and fake eyelashes and nailpolish is due to my shameless enjoyment of Daisy of Love. I love that show, god help me.) I think it would’ve been even cuter if I could’ve done my hair up, but, tattoo. God, look at all that slap. (I love it, though.)
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And then we had dinner at Sitar! Delicious! And then we went to see Drag Me to Hell, which was awesome. (And once again, Greg liked it, too, and also liked the score.) It reminded me quite a bit of the Evil Dead movies, in terms of laugh-out-loud moments in the middle of an actually scary horror film. I enjoyed it thoroughly. So, dinner and a movie two nights in a row, hanging out with friends, Duke Gardens, a quasi-picnic lunch, new tattoos – a fucking awesome and fun as hell third anniversary. (And we exchanged presents a couple weeks ago, when they arrived – Greg gave me the rad unicorn shirt, and a kit with a self-healing cutting mat, a rotary cutter, and a ruler; I gave him the box set of the first three seasons of Taxi.)
And now, I think I am going to go fucking hula hoop. My ribs are a little touchy if I press on them too hard on purpose, but they’ve stopped just randomly aching, and I’m not freaked out about my stupid liver, and I think it’s time. Yay for hooping! (Oh, and I’ve also got cleaning; pre-washing fabric for a quilt, now that I’ve got a rotary cutter and mat; and making a springy top on the schedule for today. Oh yeah, and a special project for someone else – who hopefully doesn’t read this, or she’s about to get spoiled: a crocheted Dalek. I probably won’t finish the Dalek today, just get it started. And some beaded, crocheted bracelets for myself if I’ve got time, too.)
For your listening/viewing enjoyment, here are some of our wedding songs (not that we really had traditional, dance-to-them-at-the-reception wedding songs, but here they are): We each picked out three, and so far I found all mine and one of Greg’s on youtube. Still working on the other two. Without further ado:
