Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Music In the Wind

The territory I am about to tread into is certainly a departure from my usually whipped cup of domestic insanity sprinkled with flecks of nastiness. So bear with me, you might enjoy it, then again I may lose you. I hope not though.

A few months ago I was having a conversation with my Aunt Joni on the telephone. I forget how we got on the subject when she asked me if I had ever heard music in the wind. I said, "No, I don't think so, is that an album or the name of the band? "
"No, I mean have you ever heard the MUSIC blowing through the breeze when you're outside?" 
My jaw dropped and I think I may have been speechless for a few minutes and then I replied, "Well yes, but I've never told anyone because I thought I was just having a flashback from my party girl days."

We continued to discuss this strange phenomenon for a while and I became more and more excited that someone else had heard this other than me.  Other strange things have happened to me but like I said before I generally don't talk about them because enough people already think I'm a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

She told me she had only heard it once, as was the same for me.  Both of our descriptions of the event sounded very similar in the way that the music sounded.  When I heard it I also heard what sounded like a choir of hundreds of voices not really singing a song but just harmonizing in a single tune with very little fluctuation.   I was out on the beer cart at the Fort Golf course which is in the middle of a state park with very little residential area around it.  The particular area where I heard this music was an especially secluded area and there was no chance that it could be coming from people.  Although if you had heard it you would have known instantly that it wasn't being made by people, it was prettier than anything I've ever heard.

I had been listening to my iPod when I thought that the song I was hearing was messing up, so I turned it off to restart it, and that's when I heard it.  It was as if the music was all around me but being carried by the wind through the trees.  It was a little bit scary, but the beauty of the sound overcame any fear I had.

After my Aunt and I had this conversation I scoured the Internet for more information and perhaps others who have shared this experience.  I did find many people who have experienced very similar scenarios, and I also discovered a medical community that was all too eager to dismiss it as a malfunction in the human brain.  How much easier it is to chalk it up to our own faulty bodies than to open ourselves to the very real possibility of something other than the things we can merely see and touch.

Since that conversation I have still rarely spoken of this with anyone, but while watching the movie The New world with Jeremy Saturday night, I became very excited.  During the opening score, I said "That's it, that's just what it sounds like.  That's the closest thing I have yet heard to describe the sounds."  I suppose that since he has never heard it he just wasn't able to fully understand.  I found a clip on you tube (after searching FOREVER) that plays part of the score that I am referring to.  Notice how there is no real tune it sort of sounds like a symphony is warming up for the big show with little crescendos of music scattered within it.  That is the sound I heard but also mixed in was the sound of a large choir of voices harmonizing with the music but fluctuating in pitch very little.

I'm writing this today because I wonder if anyone else has heard this or something similar, and if so would you share your experience?

Oh and by the way, if you haven't ever seen that movie, it is HOT... in a totally historical way of course.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Nausea With a Side of Puke

During my first pregnancy I felt sick alot.  So to quell it, I ate alot.  And I mean full blown manly meals, no saltines and ginger ale for me.  Yes, it made the sickness go away, but only for about 30 minutes at which time it would return and  then Jillian would eat....again.  And that dear Readers, is how Jillian gained 30 pounds in the first trimester.  A big no no as any obstetrician will tell you.  Any obstetrician except mine that is.  

This time I vowed to be different.  I would suffer the waves of nausea gladly as I admired my gurgling stomach and its ability to retain the four pack I have worked so hard to maintain.  I would sip ginger tea and nibble on Ezekiel toast like any good waifish Mum.  Except that I am no waif.  Healthy is the term most used to describe my physique, or voluptuous.  I have been slightly obsessed with the amount of food I would allow myself to eat this time and the amount of weight I would allow myself to gain.  So when I woke up yesterday and couldn't take my rings off...not even with oil on my fingers, I began to panic.

How could this be?  I had been so careful.  I stepped on the scale to find that I had gained two pounds.  I called Jeremy almost in tears and told him that despite my best attempts my body was out to destroy me.  "Jill, you're PREGNANT" was his reply.  "Well my BUTT'S not PREGNANT JEREMY!" I told him.  He spent a few minutes trying to console to not much avail and then had to go see a patient.

Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I tend to obsess about weight.  Because I am the kind of person that can simply walk past a bakery and gain five pounds.  And by some ironic twist of fate I'm surrounded by family and a husband who just "can't keep it on".   When I was home recently I asked my brother if he wanted to go for a run with me.  "Hell no", he said "I'll lose 10 pounds!"  I told him that I hoped he caught crabs of the eyelashes and went bald at 30 and then headed out all by my self.

This obsession of mine started around my eighth birthday.  I had always been a gangly kid. And then I discovered toaster hash browns.  So let's blame the hash browns.  And my Dad.  Because when I began to show signs of chubbiness, he lovingly referred to my as "Pudge".  A pet name every daughter cherishes.  That summer I went to a sprinkler party at a house down the street.  I can still remember that bathing suit; it was hot pink with black polka dots and I thought I was the cat's meow.  After jumping through the sprinkler with squeals of delight for what seemed like an eternity, I stopped to take a break next to some other kids from the neighborhood.  I overheard one girl whisper to another girl, "Jill kind of has a big butt."

When I got home I looked in the mirror and tried to get a good luck at this big butt of mine.  Until that moment in my life it had never crossed my mind to notice it before.  It had always just been a butt.  Good for sitting on, mooning people with, and often the recipient of a spanking with "the spoon", my Mother's disciplinary utensil of choice.

It still looked like a butt to me, but from then on I began to compare my body to other girls whenever I was around them.  And that dear readers, is never a good idea.  But alas, old habits die hard.  And so here I have sat, in my own nauseated, self absorbed and obsessed little prison.

That is until I picked up a book on natural pregnancy written by a famous midwife who also happens to be a former hippie.  Because of the complications I encountered at Elsbeth's birth and the lack of compassion I felt, I have been toying around the idea of a home birth with a midwife.  This book talks about surrendering to the power of the contractions during labor and that by doing so many women can speed up the process and experience less pain.  Ina May states over and over that as women our bodies are pretty amazing things that we are able to grow and then expel a human from an almost unbelievably unproportionate place.  We are amazing.  She says that if a Man had an organ that could get as big as a uterus you'd better believe he'd be bragging about it.

The testimonies in this book by the women who have delivered at home or at birthing centers without the use of medication  has been so inspiring that as of last night I have a new attitude.  Internet, I am making a public statement that as of last night I have surrendered to this pregnancy and whatever it wants to do with my body.  I am going to take excellent care of myself in a holistic way.  Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually and that means that most of the struggle occurs in the mind.  

This can be applied to so many things in life, not just pregnancy (this is the part where I deter from humorous analogies and begin to preach "at" you).  I woke up this morning (yes, still felling green and exhausted) but I started singing This little Light of Mine which Elsbeth very much enjoyed.  I made a decision that I was going to be sick whether I was in bed or whether I was enjoying my day and my child.  It worked.  We enjoyed a lovely breakfast of Irish oatmeal with raw honey and rasberries, coffee (I only had one cup you Nazis) and a hearty dose of optimism.

I feel great, in between bouts of the urge to toss my cookies.  My butt feels great too.  The way it is retaining fluid makes for a very comfy seat cushion.  Kind of like a water bed.  I jest.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

It Speaks...and well too!

Riding home from the airport the other day Jeremy picked me up in the BMW (I know...we STILL haven't sold it, Jeremy isn't ready to let it go just yet.  Blame him).  Ellie calls this "Mommy's car".  The red VW Jetta station  wagon is "Daddy's car".  Jeremy and I were talking about my trip when all of the sudden Ellie apparently couldn't contain herself anymore and this is what came out of her mouth:

This is Mommy's car.

Daddy's car is dirty.

Daddy's car is nasty.

Daddy needs to wash it with his hands.


I think I may have inhaled and then shot chewing gum from my nose when she said that.  How did she remember that daddy's car is, in fact, dirty, nasty and much in need of a hand washing? Ah, the things kids will say.    And keep in mind that this child doesn't turn two until December.  I can't wait to hear what she comes up with when she's 16.  Oh wait, YES I CAN.

This is Ellie on my parent's porch ready to head to the airport to come home.  She is carrying "My Wion" (that would be the shaggy lion) and "My boot-case" (which would be the tiny suitcase).  The contents of which she packed entirely herself, they included: three pacifiers or babbies as she calls them, a stuffed bear in a Naval officers uniform that she calls Daddy bear, a small draw and erase magnetic board, and a half eaten Ritz peanut butter cracker.

PS.  Please read yesterday's post for the update on Jeremy's response to his shampoo purchase.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

On Men When Left Alone

Jeremy is by no means a metro sexual.  He won't even let me attempt to pluck the one or two hairs that threaten to turn into a unibrow.  I believe when we began dating he washed his hair with a bar of soap.  He is just one of those damn lucky people who happen to look amazingly attractive naturally.  DAMN HIM!  

Aside: After the dental ball I was sad that we hadn't gotten even one picture of us all dressed up.  He was all: well we can just put the clothes back on and take a picture.  And then I was all: GASP!  DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO GET READY?  Unlike you I don't roll out of bed looking like Johnny Depp.  It's closer to cousin It with a case of morning breath.

So the whole time we have been dating/married I have been the one to purchase any kind of bath or hair product for him.  Most of the time he just takes them and uses them without any comment or complaint.  He is my leetle manly Guinea pig.  Until recently he used the same shampoo that I did which was just a drug store brand like pantene or herbal essence.  And then I went to an upscale salon for a cut and color and the stylist was all: Girrrrrrl this hair is NOT GOOD!  And I was all: Waaaaaaa!  So she recommended some hair care products that were amazing but extremely expensive.  (Click here if you want to learn more about this great line of products which I later learned can be purchased on ebay for much cheaper).  Because of the price I told Jeremy he had to keep using pantene because we couldn't afford to waste the good stuff on his hair.  I'm so nice aren't I?  So he's been using the pantene like a good husband and I guess while I was gone we ran out.  

He was forced to go to the store and purchase some shampoo.  Probably for the first time in at least 7 years.  As I was taking a shower this morning I noticed his shampoo and began to wonder what kind of purchase this was.  Did he just walk in and grab the first bottle that said shampoo or did he thoughtfully peruse the aisle contemplating which selection would best suit his particular follicular needs.

Let's suppose it was the latter.  This was his choice.

This is the description on the bottle:

Gentle, Balanced Cleansing with vitamins C & E
Shine enhancing nutrients
Experience the health and vitality of pro-vitamin nutrient enriched formula for beautiful hair.
Exclusive 5 pro-vitamin formula maximizes body and shine. Balancing formula for gentle daily cleansing. Vitamin C and E enriched formula, protects hair.

Reading this made me wonder:  Did he make this selection because he feels that his hair is in need of shine enhancement and body?  Did he look in the mirror at that mop of black hair and think to himself, "Hmmm, I think my hair is looking a little dull and perhaps the PH balance is off.  I'm going to look for a product packed chock full of nutrients and gentle cleansing powers that will not only balance but also protect this luxurious mane of mine"  I highly doubt it.  But I sure did have a nice giggle thinking about it in the shower.  I'm going to ask him later tonight and I'll get back to you on it.

UPDATE:  I showed this post to Jeremy and asked him why he chose that particular bottle of shampoo and he said, " Because it said for normal hair, and it was cheap."   As opposed to the stuff I always buy which says it's for hair: Screaming for therapy and extensive treatment due to years of chemical substance abuse.  He is vanilla.  I am Rocky Road mixed with chunky monkey served in a banana split dish with 15 cherries on top.  AND EXTRA NUTS.

Welcome Back To Me

Please play this song as you read this, or not, but to fully experience the journey I am about to take you on I think it would be prudent to do so.  Prudent is a funny word, don't ya think?

I just got back last night.  Going back to Indiana always makes me feel nostalgic.  Even though I have moved around this country for most of my life, I've always considered Indiana my home.  All my family is there.  And there's just something about the sight of a golden field of corn in the fall that makes my heart warm.  The abundance of Steak 'N Shakes doesn't hurt either.

I spent a good deal of time riding my mothers pink cruiser around the small town that my parents live in.  Several times I rode to a local bakery and cafe and picked up lunch and rode back to my parents house with it in the wicker basket of the bike.  I never once had to lock it up and I never once feared it being stolen.  MAN do I love some things about small towns!  

Many other eventful things happened such as my whole family coming down with a shat nasty case of strep throat.  Oh yeah, and Elsbeth got Hand Foot and Mouth disease (But don't worry it was mild and she's OK now).

Amanda if you're reading this, right about now in this song I'm remembering you and I sitting in my apartment on Talbott street in Indianapolis listening to this song on a CD you had made me.  You had probably come over to help me list stuff (incredibly unusual and hip vintage stuff) on Ebay, although I think you even then had ulterior motives of visiting your boyfriend Magnum the Italian Greyhound.  After this song I believe I broke out in an infamous dance to R Kelly's Ignition "The Remix".  Yeah, we didn't always listen to that kind of music though did we?

I visited my old stomping ground, The Fort Gold course, one of the singularly most beautiful places I have ever been.  My heart experienced a dull throbbing pain and I had to fight the urge to steal the beverage cart and make a lap around the course.

But enough reminiscing.  Dear, DEAR readers, I have something to tell you.  This morning I made an exciting discovery: Coffee made by ones self is just never as good as coffee made lovingly by ones own Mother.  

And also this:

Yep, thas right.  Jillian is going to be a mother of two.  When I informed my husband of this news he chuckled in a very cocky way and said, "I TOLD you I posses the Navy Seals of sperm".  I realize that that last statement may have taken our Internet relationship into levels of intimacy which you were not prepared for.  If that's the case, you'd better leave now.  As the months wear on I am sure to delve deep into some really disgusting subject matter, that is unless the Pregnancy Gestapo (AKA Jeremy) gets to me first and enforces mandated censorship.   

We shall have to wait and see. 

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

I'm Leaving On a Jet Plane...

Where to start?

It is a rare occasion that I am at a loss for word or suffer from mute mouth, but the last few days have succeeding in affecting me with that.  So many times over the past several days I have wanted to reach out to the blogoshperenet and attempt to explain the tumultuous ocean of feelings that were rolling through my insides.  But I couldn't.  It is a defense mechanism that I involuntarily acquired over the last three years due to the shit storm of events I went through.  

I wanted to tell you that the four hurricanes in the ocean make me queasy because even though my body is not on the gulf coast anymore, I am there with everyone in spirit and memory.  But when I leaned over my keypad, my fingers just wouldn't move.

So please just understand.  I'm going to put all those feelings back in their zip lock air tight baggie and shove it back into the "place where things go that we just can't talk about right now".  Mmmmkay?  And then when I'm done here I will silently go back to my position of crossed fingers,  bowed head, and rumbling stomach.

Now, on to lighter fare.  As some of you may know, we gave up cable TV as part of our "Green Experiment".  That has been an adjustment, but I am thoroughly accustomed to it now and really don't ever want to back to the realms of American Idol or Dancing With the Has Beens.  One thing we do allow for is movie rentals.  We have a netflix account and lately we have been watching The Office at the behest of just about everyone I know.  At first I was all, come on...it looks so stupid and everyone was like.....it IS, and you will LOVE it!  So we caved and now we're on the second season.  

I came to the realization yesterday that my Husband is Dwight Schrute.  Jeremy and Elsbeth were watching a video from PBS that is geared towards preschoolers.  The show was describing different types of insects and had just covered a butterfly a bee and an earthworm.  Then it asked the viewers which of the insects lived in the dirt.  No sooner had the question been uttered than Jeremy yells out with an urgency that left me puzzled: EARTHWORM!  

I looked at him and said, "Wow, that's pretty good.  Maybe you're ready to move up to the Barney programs now.....DWIGHT SCHRUTE!"  

Then there was last night when I asked him if he had ever had a pimple inside his nose.  He replied, "No, but if you ever do, you really shouldn't pop it because the bacteria could potentially travel to your brain and kill you.  I'm just saying, It COULD happen."  I just looked at him and said, "Schrute".

This discovery comes on the heels of my trip home to Indiana.  I am leaving for two weeks and am anxious to see how much more "Schrute-ish" Jeremy will have become when left to his own sinister and adorably nerdish devices for two weeks.   

I guess in a very round about way I'm telling you that for the next two weeks I will post sporadically if at all.  But I promise, I'll BE BACK.