Ireland #4:Crazy Lady Night

I'm not sure what night it's been on the past few trips, but on this one, it was night three. Monday night. Though we've been out of the house all day and for much of the night, we still get a bit stir crazy. This is just what happens here. There is always the initial Crazy Lady Nights, especially when my sister and I are there together.

At about 11:30 pm, after all the visitors have come and gone and I've drank as many cups of tea as my bladder can handle, we start to settle down - we put up our feet and turn on the television. Lo and behold - Working Girl is on. A million props to Working Girl, because on this night, it is officially the best movie ever made.

I cannot explain television in Ireland. One night you'll find yourself trying to get tired, so you turn on the TV and miraculously catch an episode of True Blood at 10 pm, followed by an episode of Blind Date, followed by America's Next Top Model. Brilliant. The next night, you'll come downstairs fighting insomnia and jet lag with the small glimmer of excitement; based on what you watched last night, at least you'll see some awesome entertainment. But no - it's an episode of Becker, followed by a documentary about sailboats, followed by a Bosnian singing competition. It's so random. And this is why catching a movie like Working Girl, from the beginning of the whole movie, is a special treat. One more point about the strangeness of Irish television - they were showing the same movie on a different channel, but it had started fifteen minutes later. There ya go.

Back to Working Girl. Sara and I had a ball. We cackled at Joan Cusack's hair and makeup and Melanie Griffith's lingerie. And Sigourney Weaver - what a nasty bitch! And of course, any and every version of "Let the River Run" is played throughout the whole glorious movie, putting it in our heads for at least the next 48 hours.

After the movie is over, we creep upstairs and settle into our beds, gushing over what a great film it was. Right when I feel like my eyes might be getting tired and sleep could be near, which is a rare and beautiful thing during the first few nights in Ireland, Sara decides she wants to try and sing me her favorite lyric from the theme song. I say "try" because she's never actually able to sing the complete line. Why, you ask? Well, because as she attempts to sing, she's doubled over with laughter. Mostly because this is the lyric:

Come run with me now,
The sky is the color of blue
You've never even seen
In the eyes of your lover.

You see, in this moment, this is the funniest thing to ever happen, ever in life. And maybe nobody will understand that, and maybe it's not even that funny in retrospect, but in that moment, in this tiny room on the 3rd floor of a crazy, skinny house with my parents sleeping a floor beneath us, it is insanely hilarious. And we're both in our 30s and on a family vacation with our parents and sleeping in single twin beds barely a foot apart from each other and have hardly eaten any vegetables for days and we're now completely hysterical. Over nothing. We can barely breathe, tears are streaming down our faces, and we are trying to stay quiet so as to not wake our folks, so what comes out of our mouths sounds like a wheezing, heaving, messy, snorty, guffaw.

This is Crazy Lady night. The night where the most assinine things are the funniest, where our stomachs ache not just from the lack of vegetables, but from the giggling as well, where nobody but us would understand. And I love it.

Patience

Tuesday night. I'm laying in my bed wide awake, still feeling the after effects of the caffeine-laced Excedrin, coffee, and soda I pumped myself full of today in an attempt to quell a migraine. By now, the pain in my head has calmed a bit, but my mind is still racing. The caffeine works pretty well, if you don't mind being all tweaky during your book-writin' meeting (sorry Jourdan) and piano lessons with children. At least I had the most insane kids today - they didn't seem to notice my darting eyes and constant fidgeting.

This evening, my father's thoughts travel aloud over the phone, brainstorming various things to look into and discussing different doctors I could see; an ENT doctor, or a sinus specialist. Maybe get a CT-scan of my head. I listen passively and in my head acknowledge that, although he makes an excellent point, I know exactly what I'd like to look into: the writing, meditation, and yoga I was practicing so regularly just a year ago. The routine of clearing my mind, relaxing and alone time, and especially silence. That was the most calm my mind has been in awhile. An anxious and obsessive mind like this one really needs regular practice most of all. Even just to go to sleep.

Although I know I should lay in bed with closed eyes and relaxed jaw and shoulders, silently chanting my sleep reminder (deep breath in - say "sleep." Deep breath out - say "sleep." It has worked every time I've wholeheartedly tried it. For real.), instead my hands absently wander behind my pillow to the headboard shelf where my phone sits. The phone with which I can look on facebook to check if Gina has had a baby yet. She was due two weeks ago and was prepared to induce today. "Just wait," a little voice says somewhere in my brain. "You can find out in the morning." About ten seconds after I heed the voice, another one sounds off, stronger and louder. "Hey! Go peek in the kitchen and see if the amaryllis has blossomed yet!" My bare feet are on the floor without hesitation and I tiptoe to my bedroom door and look around the corner. No. Not blooming yet. Same as it was 40 damn minutes ago when I checked it before I first tried to settle down for the night.

Seriously, Reem? You're peeking on a flower at 1 am? Go to sleep. Sleep now. Sleep (in) sleep (out) sleep (in) sleep (out). Breathe. Miyagi-style.

This amaryllis has been slowly growing for about 3 weeks and I've been noticing small changes in it every day. I've had nothing but patience for it for those weeks, but suddenly now that I know it could blossom any day, I'm watching it like a hawk. Obsessively. In the middle of the night when I should be trying to sleep. Watched pot, right? I remind myself to be patient, that beautiful things like babies and flowers will come around when they're meant to. And that I can just sit back and relax this mind and wait. And wait and wait.
















And following that reminder of patience, just two short days later, I have a beautiful flower in my kitchen...




...and Gina and Patrick have a beautiful baby. Happy Birthday, Aidan Antonio!

Baby Ghosts

Does anybody remember when I was hearing Baby Ghosts in the attic? I can't find the actual blog because maybe I never wrote it on here, but here's the text from the two myspace blogs I wrote:

1. i think it was sometime right before labor day when my mom came and stayed with me for a night and she kept saying she was hearing things running around in my attic. i didn't really hear it at first, but then after awhile, i started to hear things as well...like maybe something one might describe as (and i hate that i'm writing this word, but...) "scampering" about. or like, running playfully. scampering, really. i assumed they were raccoons or possums or something. i heard them a few more times and thought that i should probably tell my landlord. i think i may have at some point. whatever, nothing ever happened. they're totally still up there. i heard them today, in fact. scampering about.

but here's the thing. one afternoon, about a month ago, i heard the same noises, only it was more like running. and then...i heard a squeaky toy. like a dog toy that squeaks. for real now, even if there was a squeaky toy up there, what raccoon knows how to make it actually squeak? a genius raccoon, sure. but the one in my attic is no genius. its ordinary. and probably the toy wouldn't even be able to fit in its mouth.

so here's my thought: either it was some sort of super-powered genius raccoon with a giant mouth (obviously VERY far-fetched), or it was baby ghosts. ghost children. they've been up there for however long, and they get bored, and their only toy to play with is some random squeaky dog toy somebody left up there by accident. i mean, that's the obvious explanation, right? not far-fetched at all.

at this point, i'm just trying not to think about them too often.

And the follow-up, a couple of months later:

2. i’m telling you, they’re right next to me

the baby ghosts. they are now in the wall of my bedroom, in the wall less than a foot away from where i'm sitting in my bed. they are rolling toys and acorns around and around, up and down, side to side. i swear to god, i can hear them.

i know i sound like a crazy lady, but i've talked about this before, and to be 100% honest, i know they're most likely squirrels, not baby ghosts, but nevertheless, i am absolutely terrified right now.

i don't know why. but i'm fucking terrified of these squirrels.

About three minutes ago, I heard a squeak. Squirrels don't squeak, man! So either it's the baby ghosts and they've found their squeaky toy, or it's some kind of goose right outside my window. Either way, what the hell?

I mean, it was an audible squeak. Loud, even.

When I called in sick to work this morning, I didn't even feel all that bad. But now that I'm writing this and thinking back on my day, I think it's quite possible that I had some near hallucinations or something. And now baby ghosts. Perfect.

More Than You?

I'm going to give you some percentages...

80% percent of the time, I wake up with a song in my head.
50% of that time, it's a song I've never heard before, and just one line or a couple of measures are being repeated over and over
30% of the time, it's a tune I already knew, but there are made up words that my brain put with the tune

So this morning was in that 30% part. I had this song in my head from one of the piano books I teach out of. It's called "Love Somebody." It's this simple 8 measure song that uses maybe 5 different notes...a beginner's song. I think there might be words written to it in the book, but I'd made up my own words in my sleep apparently. They went like this:

Jesus loves me, this I know
Cuz the bible told me so
Jesus loves me, yes it's true
Jesus loves me more than you

Is this something? Was this really a song? Or part of it maybe? I'm so confused...