Quality Time

While today was far from my best day, I guess there is something to be said with spending the day with your mom who is thrilled you invited her to go run errands. Then capping it off watching 22 Jump Street with your dad while splitting Doritos and drinking wine. 

You never know when your last moments are with people... guess it helps curb the other things that easily translate into disappointments and pain that remains unstoppable. 

So today, I made my mom feel important and my dad happy. Will take it as a win even if I don't feel like a winner in the game of life.

-G

Thanksgiving by the Numbers

Well, I did it folks. I hosted my own Griswold thanksgiving. For the record, there were no fires, black eyes and no one locked themselves in a room by mistake. While a long time dream complete, holy crow, hosting is exhausting - even with a full team of people helping before and after given that I had yet another upper respiratory infection days before. Continuing to turn my house into a home, it was a fantastic moment in time overall. But here's a look at T-day by the numbers.

1 bottle of Makers down (people love their annual manhattans)
2 out of 3 - the number GI procedure I had thanksgiving eve (to keep things interesting)
4 kids racing around the house with boundless energy
5 loads of laundry
6 pies - equalling one for each house guest
8 loads of dishes (and counting)
13 guests around the table
20 dollars for the last minute, day of shopping trip (I like lemonade, I only eat regular chips)
24 pieces of stemware prepped
25 pounds of turkey
72 stickers I had to remove from all the plates, cups and platters
100 (apprx) - ridiculous yet Mangiaracina-esque decorations around the house not limited to turkey chairs, a cuckoo holiday clock, streamers, wind sock, solar powered dancing turkeys (I could go on, but why)
8,100 - the number of miles one guest flew to not miss out

Smooches,
G

Once, Twice, Three Times... (yea, not even close to) A Lady

Apparently, I like doing things twice. Sometimes even three times. Take closing on real estate... I had my 6th closing just last week, and now once again I own my home. My eye surgeries - two go rounds there. Current GI work, 3 times will hopefully be a charm. 

And then there are my talents that accompany those takes. My personal favorite was during my procedure today when I went to "hop up" on the 'just a wee bit high' exam table. For the record, that paper is slippery which I never knew until I went careening off the side. Lesson for all: use that little stool. 

Well, today, I was feeling brave so I attempted to change my own air filter in the furnace. Yep, I googled and seemed straight forward. Until I realized it was cold in here. Like REALLY cold. 

Thankfully, a simple phone call to my village people, and there comes yet another gent to help this distressed damsel. And fortunately given my bills continue to rise, it was just a simple switch and a lesson in how to properly put the lid back on my furnace.

All in a day... as they say in G-ality, that's why God invented Makers.

Smooches,

G

Giving Thanks

There's a big part of me that has felt like a fish out of water these days or insert whatever cliché you'd like, but what it breaks down to is that once again, I've taken this massive 180 in my life plan. Alright, maybe I've never been much of a life planner… but I did have some semblance of direction which led me here which is now no longer.

Confused? Yea, me too.

So, here's the deal. I was getting pretty down about it… like way far down. Truth be told, I don't feel like much of a match for these parts since I live a vastly different life than most here in suburbia.

Most of you would agree that there's nothing sadder than a sad G. When the bubbly is gone, it leaves a pretty dark hole that's never good. Most of you never see the dark places where my mind goes, but they are there and a fair number of you have saved me from them, whether you knew it or not.

I've had to jump through so many hoops and hurdles this year. Again. I'm really feeling like a trained circus animal. And for every hurdle, it's been one step forward, two steps back, followed by a "let's hit her in the crotch with a curve ball" for good measure.

But just when I throw my hands up in the air, give up hope and call it quits, there comes a pull. What I like to consider the "magic" or "zest" of what makes my life a little different or at least lets me view it as such. This would be considered "G-ality" a state I've been accused of living in instead of reality. (For the record, G-ality ain't the worst place to be, it's usually quite fun here in the land of rainbows and ponies).

Case in point, after a rough few days in the fun land of rebuilding, I was crashing hard. Then out of the blue, I see a car pull up in my driveway and up comes Santa. Alright, not the *real* Santa, if anything more like Hanukkah Harry, but a friend who stopped by in the middle of working to drop off his company's latest Christmas Ale and an awesome snow hat. Just to wish me a happy holiday. Another called randomly to check in and then I got a message from yet another which just said "You are greatly loved!!"

And to cap it off? Jumping in the car later that day and hearing Piano Man blaring through my radio, a tradition for a group of my bestest peeps.

Well, y'all know how to make a girl feel welcome when she's feeling at her worst, that's for sure.

Blues fade and the smile widens. The roller coaster continues on, but, those moments make it all worth holding on for the next turn.

Humble pie for me this Thanksgiving… and I'm grateful for it.

Smooches,

G

Good Musing from My Morning

You need to believe that you're writing your own story and making your own soundtrack. You need many co-authors to help make it rich in content and full of good songs, but the minute it feels like someone else is developing your storyline, that's when shit goes awry.

Smooches,

G

To Lucky...

Lucky,

Wherever you are, this one is for you. Thanks for being the best teacher of "Listen, smile, agree, and then do whatever the f**k you were gonna do anyway."

Miss you always, my furry best friend.

Smooches,
G

Oh No, It’s the Cops…

The irony of my identity being stolen and credit (or credibility) being destroyed is just too good for the Universe to pass up. As with all things G, I seem to live the Groundhog Day of life – I go through every bad thing at least twice. It comes as part of a series of aligned occurrences that might as well have been a giant billboard or blinking neon sign of my need to burn myself down and rise from the ashes, that includes, but in no way is limited to:

-          My chest requiring surgery after a supposedly harmless cyst literally swelled up, exploded and had recurring infections throughout the summer (left another awesome scar too)

-           My entire GI tract being completely ripped to shreds, including pre-cancerous polyps, swollen stomach and bleeding in parts that aren't meant to. (still under repair, check back in early 2015)

I was in the middle of NYC when I first heard about my stolen identity and destroyed credit. It was an awesome day filled with fits of rage, fits of tears (sorry Penn Station), fighting with all 3 credit bureaus, not winning an award that I was up there for in the first place (nice extra kick to the crotch) and ended with a fantastic train ride in which I won the title of "worst day ever" by the guy sitting next to me listening to my calls. (We'll ignore my sister being an hour late and me freezing outside the station).

 But let's get funny. After all that, I picked myself up, the credit issue got resolved and I was excited to see "deleted" on all 3 reports. I contacted my mortgage company that was waiting for my "go" to re-run my credit so I'm not paying out the butt to re-fi. I sent them all the reports, gleeful. Until the next day when I got the alert that said I was in collections again. WTF?!, you ask. Indeed, friends, indeed.

The same fraudulent company that filed the first time, filed again for a new amount, immediately tanking my score back down less than 24 hours after I was cleared.

I was familiar with the drill, so I hopped back on with my favorite customer service folks who told me I needed to file a police report which I was supposed to do in the first place. Funny, since, I was on the phone with each bureau at least 5 times and no one even mentioned it.

Not one to F around, I call the local cops asking what I need to do to file. When I asked their hours, I got the lovely Jersey response of "we're the cops, ma'am, we're here all the time." (For the record, that's not true, their hours are 8-3:30).

I've never willingly entered a police station before. I was falsely abducted once and taken to the Hoboken one…a story for another time. And of all the ways that I envisioned having to go and especially seeing if someone would go with me, this was the least likely scenario. But dear ol' dad and I hop in the car and head off at 7:45 pm. We were told to have a seat. And waited… and waited… (Dad makes a couple jokes a bit TOO loud about them eating donuts in the back) and then finally we hear "it may be awhile, there's a pursuit" followed by the officer's radio going off and him yelling back "yes, pin down the woman too." Does this stop my dad from asking him if he knows the one cop that went to high school with my sister? Of course not.

And so, I'm shuffled off and told to return the next day, which I do solo and even more nervous that I'll make some dumb joke that will lead to questioning.

Fortunately, I do not. But, I do now have a collection of pictures, a FBI file and a specialized ID that if I'm detained (which never happens – see every airport post ever) will pop up in the system and I'm required to provide. If I forget said ID, I will be held. I even had to tell them about any identifiable scars or tattoos. Nothing is more amusing then talking about your great miniature golf incident that led to your only identifiable marking.

That's right, I went from identity theft victim to FBI file… bad ass, street cred. Just me and that Snowden guy, right?

At the same time, I also complained to the town about my garbage people who I watch every Tuesday use my trash can as target practice. Normally, I chose to ignore it, since hey, it's a crappy job but after fully denting in the side and ripping off the handle, it was time for action. I arrive home from the police station and a brand new trash can is delivered to my door step courtesy of the town.

Feeling very Godfather…

Smooches,

G

I went right somewhere

As the roller coaster continues its never short on moments that give me pause and make me think for everything that hasn't gone the way I thought, that somewhere, somehow I did do something right. Below is a message from someone I barely knew. I did a quick favor for this person and when he asked how I was I couldn't lie. I said "could be better". This was not the response I expected but it was a nice surprise:

"What ever it is, time heals all. Persevere and make yourself number one in your life. Be the best Gina you can be. Only let people into your life that will help and most of all understand. It is important to find people who have been in similar situation so that you know you are not alone. Faith and courage Gina, I hope you overcome this moment in time with grace and dignity. Get back to basics and things that make you happy. I know We weren't to close however I know you have all the qualitys that make a good friend. If you want to talk I am always here."

Thank you friends, near and far, close or not.

Smooches
G

Wait For Me...

Admittedly, I've been a bit down when it comes to thinking about this, but I have to say, it would be pretty stellar if someone was waiting for me. The lyrics to this song are quite lovely. I'd Google that shit if I were you.

Stay tuned for some great stories about me and the police. (sadly, not Sting-type police, but actual po-po)

Smooches,
G

great writing.

Totally not mine... but man, this dialogue made such an impact on me, I just had to post it:

"I know what this is. Why you're with me. You're a man who dares to dance with the freaks. I perpetuate that deviance for you. Allow you to show the world that you live outside the box. But I know that's where it ends for us and I understand. It comes with the territory of my complicated identity. But my feelings for you are simpler. They live very much inside the box. I'm afraid that I may have fallen in love with you."

The credit goes to Sons of Anarchy, which really is usually more biker and violent... but one of the best episodes of TV I've ever seen.

Welcome to Zone 5

If you know me, you've heard me say this before. I'm always flagged as a potential terrorist. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard the phrase, "Step aside, ma'am, you've been selected for special screening, I would be slowly rebuilding my dwindling savings.

In addition to being the next shoe bomber, I apparently am on the 'last to board' Zone list. In the summer in Ohio, I was Zone 6. THERE IS NO ZONE 6 – even my boss was floored when she saw my ticket.

So, as my work schedule kicks in to high gear, it was no surprise that I not only couldn't get on an earlier flight despite working several 12+ hour days, but that I was Zone 5 on both ways.

After a 5:30 AM start, boarding a 4:30 PM flight home from Boston just sucks ass. I was doing whatever it took to keep me awake, which included smacking myself to stay awake. Sleep deprivation does weird stuff to you including giving you that feeling like you're badly hung over and are about to be ill.

So, as I prepare my sad self to finally mosey over to the gate as the last person to board (again), the flight attendant stops me because, of course, they JUST ran out of space on the plane for my teeny-tiny carry on and I simply have no choice but to check my bag.

After much grumbling, I start doing a drunken pirate walk to my seat. I finally get there and try to prep by grabbing my seat belt as the gentleman next to me is on a conference call.

Problem – the seat belt doesn't budge. Agitated and exhausted, I proceed to yank on the belt nearly over top this handsome gent who is now staring bewildered. Pulling away, until, he finally excuses himself in the middle of his conversation to look up at me and say, "um, I'm really sorry, but that's actually my belt you're pulling on."

So, how tired was I? Tired enough to molest the passenger next to me. Thanks to the fact that it was a full flight, I got to sit next to this man with my nose stuck in a book avoiding eye contact on one of the bumpiest flights ever.

Ah, yes… I have returned.

Smooches,

G

Fake It Until You Make It

When you can't say it better yourself, imitation is the highest form of flattery. So is plagiarism. 

G's advice of the day

Fall hard, fall fast, get up and get over it. Laugh at your own silliness. (It's better than sitting there feeling like an idiot)

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Smooches,
G

Breakfast Art

I see anxious hipster. (Feel free to have authorities pick me up anytime, given that I'm cooking and seeing things in my food)