The Secrets of Gia in 10 Confessions

9 Oct

I’m going to make some confessions here, some that might shock you.   Some might make you laugh, some may make you gasp, I suppose.  I’m a pretty real person, with real foibles and real opinions.

Confession #1–I don’t dye my hair and I haven’t for years now.  Therefore, it’s gone entirely gray with some strands of the dark left, and it is still long.  Normally, I wear it tied up, it’s more convenient that way.

Confession #2–I prefer to sleep with it tied up.  That way, I don’t end up pulling my own hair as I sleep, since I sleep in a manner that is somewhat reminiscent of a piece of popcorn in a fire.  I move…a lot.

Confession #3–I hate the knot on the back of my head, so I often will opt to sleep with it in pigtails.  I don’t bother tying the ends of the braids, it stays braided through the night without them.  However, if you refer to the second part of #2, you’ll realize that it is often not very neat by the time the sun comes up.

Confession #4–If I’m “under the weather”, I often leave it in pigtails throughout the day.  I’m not going anywhere, entertaining, etc. so in theory, nobody is going to see my pigtails.  When I don’t feel well, I honestly don’t care what anybody thinks about my hairdo or lack of one anyhow!

Confession #5–When I am sick or overtired, I can be very cranky, especially to anyone and anything that wakes me up when I am sleeping.  My theory is that if I sleep, it might go away when I wake up.  Ever hear stories about bears just coming out of hibernation?  They are cheerleaders compared to me.

Confession #6–My daughter got by with all kinds of crap as a teenager after the local police brought her home once.  The story goes like this…I ran a motel, and was often awakened by drunks.  I had a hard time getting enough sleep to be functional.  Therefore, I was usually under the influence of #5.  They brought her home once, after she had told them repeatedly that they did not want to wake me up.  It was a small town, I knew all of them, they knew me as well.  However, they had not had an encounter with me waking up after several drunken incidents in one night.  Since my daughter had sneaked out, I had no idea she wasn’t in bed sleeping.  They banged on the door, sounding very much like drunk #7 for the night.  I answered it, with wild hair, and really ticked off attitude, and the “What do you want NOW?” came out even before I registered who it was at the door or that the two officers had my daughter standing between them.  They said they were bringing her home, I glared at her, told her to get into the kitchen, and they fled like rabbits.  How could one aggravated woman scare men who dealt with felons and murderers?  I don’t know…but they refused to deal with me again.  They’d just bring her home and let her sneak back in, avoiding another encounter.  I think it was really the hair, which has always been in search of intelligent life…away from my head.  One too many graveyard shifts had those officers imagining it as Medusa or something.  My daughter, on the other hand, knew that there was going to be hell to pay…and she’d be expected to be up early the following morning to get whatever punishment she was going to be allotted for the latest offense.

Confession #7–I had one of those Medusa moments this past week once again.  This time, as my body was racked with pain and cramps from a very upset internal system, I was finally asleep.  It was late afternoon, I was sick and had been sick for several days.  I woke, to that annoying “thump thumpety thumppp” from somebody’s bass.  It continued, for what seemed like forever, indicating it wasn’t a passing car.  I rolled over again, growling as the fury rose even further.  It kept up, with each vibration irritating intestines and kidneys even more.  I flew out of bed and out of the door, in search of the offending party.  I was ready to rip out the stereo system, they were inflicting agony on me and had awakened me from the first reasonable sleep I’d been able to get.  He turned out to be the teenage son of a visitor next door, playing the stereo in the driveway.  I didn’t care.  He was asked “Is that your stereo?”  by a crazed woman with her long gray hair half pulled out of pigtails and her clothes askew.  He said it was, and he got a reply of “Shut that s**t off NOW!”  The boy has probably been scarred for life.  I was out for blood, his face looked like he’d been faced with Medusa herself.

Confession #8–When I’m sick, I find it very relaxing to rub my feet on the faithful Red Dog’s fur.  I don’t know why it soothes me so much, but it does.  Her coat is plush, its soft, it feels really REALLY good when I don’t, and it is my guilty comfort.  Fortunately, she must find it pleasant too–she chooses to lay there and let me do it.

Confession #9–When I don’t feel good, I find oatmeal a soothing meal, and my favorite flavor of instant oatmeal is “peaches and cream.”  Yes, I know it is really pieces of apple flavored and colored to fool me, but that’s okay.  I like the fake taste.  I like it kind of soupy too, and sometimes I’ll drink it at a “milk shake” consistency.  Even more delicious when I’m sick is Malt O Meal, cooked with water, then mixed with milk and brown sugar to a thick creamy consistency…like the hot milk shake again.  That’s the bomb for comfort food when I don’t feel good.

Confession #10–I’ve got a new fondness for breathing meditation.  I find it helps me help myself, which is the goal anyhow, or that’s what I believe.  It soothes, it clarifies, it helps.  I highly recommend everyone tries it.  It probably does a lot for Greg’s sanity too, since it levels me out.

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