Am I crazy or has my blog’s white background vanished? And most of my sidebar? WTF?

2008 NBA CHAMPIONS!!!!!!!

1. Went to Kowloon, which is my favorite restaurant on the planet

2. Bought myself a Ped Egg (because I’d heard they actually work), and I’m obsessed with keeping my feet soft and pretty. I didn’t have much for the Ped Egg to do right now, because my feet are in great shape — but it did make my heels even smoother

3. Watched the Celtics lose to the Lakers, but forced myself not to cry like I used to do every time they lost a regular season game. Besides, they’ll be back in Boston on Tuesday, and they own the court at home

4. Took some more photos:

A generally good day.

I bought myself two potted Gerbera plants yesterday, because I love Gerbera daisies so much. They’re so vibrant.

OK, first of all, I’ve been a bad blogger, shamefully neglecting this place as of late. I’m sorry, Blog, baby — forgive me?

K, thanks.

Things on the OMG-my-body-is-failing-me front are fairly status quo for now, although I did get a surgical consult set up for next week. Hopefully, a fresh, unbiased set of eyes will be able to figure out what the hell’s going on with my side/abdomen pain. As far as the Sjogren’s goes, all that fun stuff is still being sorted out. It hurts my control freak heart to sit back and let the doctors lead, but I will. (Aaaarrgh!)

My weekly women’s addiction group is going really well. I genuinely enjoy the other women who attend, and the experience has actually made me a better person. Honestly, I went into the whole thing with a superior attitude; I thought I was better than them because my substance addiction issues — though begun in my teens — were cultivated in a high-end setting like the music industry, as opposed to a street corner or the local bar. But then I met and got to know them, and I realized that while the details of our lives may differ, our struggles are the same; I’m not better than them, and they’re certainly no lesser than me. Truly, and surprisingly, this has humbled me in ways I never imagined it would, and I feel grateful to these women for being a constant source of inspiration.

Matt has referred me to a place he recently heard of called Right Turn, which is a Boston-based organization dedicated to offering addiction services to artists and entertainers. At his prompting, I emailed them and told them a bit about my situation; the founder and one of the social workers each emailed me back to say I’d be a great fit, and suggested that I come to one of their Thursday evening Artists in Recovery groups to get a feel for things. I have to work up to it, but I think I’ll give it a try.

Anyway, summer’s finally here which means my birthday is on the horizon. Oh, July, how I love and loathe thee.

Broke out the cute feet and summer shoes today, It’s an odd angle, but these Liz Claiborne sandals look freaking adorable with jeans:

I’m also working on finally taking some pictures of my tattoos (one of which is peeking out in the above photo, on my left foot), in preparation for number eight, which should happen sometime this summer.

Anyway, that be it for now. I may start doing a Day In the Life photo feature when I feel the urge, so look out for that. It could happen tomorrow, oh, yes it could.

I didn’t take this pic, but I like it. My mom (in the pink) and her friend, Fran.

May 25th is Towel Day, a day set aside to honor the late Douglas Adams, the man who wrote what may be my favorite series of books ever, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. (If you haven’t read them, please do. They’re full of joy and absurdity, and tons of heart.)

Why a towel?

To quote from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy:

 

A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you - daft as a bush, but very, very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

 

More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have “lost”. What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

 

Today, my mom played hooky from work and we went to see Prince Caspian, the second film in the Chronicles of Narnia series (which I’m currently reading). I adored the first film, The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe, which was essentially LOTR Lite, and went into Caspian with high hopes for something as engaging and magical as its predecessor. I needn’t have worried; Caspian was not only as good as Wardrobe, it was a hundred times better, and instantly earned itself a place amongst my favorite films of all time.

This was a much darker, much more adult film, with a heavy dose of pathos and non-stop action from the very beginning. My mom and I kept remarking that it reminded us a lot of The Two Towers, the battle-heavy middle piece of the LOTR trilogy. It had the same urgency, the same somber tone and wicked action scenes that took our breath away. There were even some ass-kicking trees!

(Incidentally, the enormous amount of similarities between the LOTR trilogy and the Chronicles of Narnia series isn’t a huge surprise, considering J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis were good friends and fellow members of the Inklings.)

Anyway, if you’re partial to epic fantasies, as I am, ignore the critical reviews for the film (which have been mixed) and get yourself to a theater. I promise you, this is a film you need to see on the big screen and it’s well worth the small fortune you’ll shell out. (We even paid the extra $2.00 per ticket to see the film in the “Director’s Hall.” Yeah, we have a fancy-schmancy movie theater in our neighborhood, but it kicks ass because going to the movies is always a great experience.)

WOO HOOOOOOO!!!

David Cook won!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!

I cried… fuck yes, I cried my ass off for my Cookie. WOO HOO!!!

So, I may have mentioned a few billion times that I have horrible, horrible insomnia. I’ve been a bad sleeper my entire life, but it’s never been as bad as it now. I think my current degree of sleeplessness is due to the perfect storm of stress and general feel-shittyness because … well … I generally feel shitty these days. There’s so much going on right now; between my newly diagnosed health problems and all the other crap, I think my mind has become completely incapable of shuttting down for any length of time.

The reason I’m even mentioning this is because sleep deprivation has caused some really funky things to happen to me over the years — everything from searching the entire house for Steve, only to wake up suddenly (on the stairs) realizing he was in Seattle, to being awakened by the phone (after finally falling asleep) and answering a thumbtack. A blue thumbtack. I shit you not.

Once, I was lying in bed in that weird fugue state of half-consciousness, sort of watching the X-Files with one eye — and, I swear to God, I thought Mulder and Scully were talking to me. Being polite, I replied, of course — but they proceeded to ignore me after that. I’ll admit that I was also on some heavy pain pills that night, so maybe lack of sleep wasn’t the total culprit — but still.

Last night, though, I was lying in bed reading The Amber Spyglass (book three of the His Dark Materials trilogy), when my lard-ass cat shifted next to me and for a split-second, I thought he was one of the story’s armored polar bears from Svalbard.

REALLY!