Psychic or Psychotic

I'm sitting up in my bed entertaining the idea that I may be psychic. In an effort to not stuff my face after 8:00pm I decided to do some channel surfing to occupy my mind. I came across America's Psychic Challenge on Lifetime.

The show takes several psychics through different challenges, which they are scored on.  Everything from finding a kid who was hiding, to determining the relationship between two people.

Before each commercial America's Psychic Challenge gives the viewer a challenge.  I nailed two out of three.  I knew which toy was the favorite of the fat asian baby, and I knew which color the roulette wheel was going to land on.  The third challenge was picking which of three guys was a juggler, and I missed that one.  I think in part because I was distracted by how weaselly one of the guys looked.

Does this alone mean I'm psychic?  Well no, but I'm exploring the possibility by watching future episodes of this show.  I also see it as a sign that maybe I should go to Vegas with some cash.

Intuition, psychic powers, whatever you want to call it is an interesting thing.  It seems to be rather hit or miss.  I have a knack for finding my son's cell phone, which he repeatedly looses, but I can't find my car when I come out of Target.

I'm probably more lucky than psychic.  Hopefully after a few more episodes I'll be able to determine that.  In the meantime I'm exploring flights to Vegas.

Trapped In The Bathroom

This afternoon I enjoyed a lovely lunch with an even lovlier friend at The Lakeshore Grill in Macy's. They have the best lobster bisque I've ever had, and they only serve it during the holidays. I'm also a huge fan of their iced tea.

After some great conversation and about three glasses of iced tea I had to pee like a race horse. Standing in the women's bathroom with my legs crossed, praying that I wouldn't sneeze, I waited and waited, and waited for no one to leave a stall.

I don't know what the heck those women were doing in there but I was starting to sweat. Sometimes I think women take so long in a stall because they often wait so long to get in. For God's sake it's a toilet not a rent controled apartment!

At this point I was desperate and my options were limited. I didn't think I could make the walk across Macy's to theri other restroom. Pissing myself as I raced through the lingerie section was not an option. I knew what I had to do. If If a guy could cut off his hand to free himself from being trapped by a giant rock, I too would do the unthinkable to survive.

I ducked out the door and slowly peeked into the men's restroom. No one was in there so I made a dash for a stall with a door. First off, why is it we can put a man on the moon, but we can't make a men's bathroom smell halfway decent? This was a nice restaurant but the bathroom smelled like it was painted with pee.

My desperation outweighed my disguist and I got down to business. As I opened the flood gates to urination relief, I contemplated why it was that we women never had adequte bathroom facilities. Before I could come up with an answer the bathroom door opened.

As panic set in I looked around my stall for an exit other than out the door. There were no windows. I was going to have to wait it out. But what if he had to go number two and waited for the one stall that I was in? Thankfully he approached a urinal and proceeded to relieve himself, complete with a celebratory fart at the end.

If he had only peed, I might have considered leaving my refuge and explaining why I was in there, but after he let one out there was no way our eyes could meet. As he washed his hands I cursed the women who occupied the women's stalls for too long.

I'm sure only minutes had passed, but it felt like hours. Finally he left the bathroom. I waited 10 seconds to make sure he would be well away from the entrance to the bathroom, then I high tailed it out of there. I don't regret my decision. I did what I had to do. But, I feel compelled to make a plea to women everywhere. We as a sisterhood need to practice speed peeing, and get out of those stalls quicker! Stop the madness ladies, get in and get out. The men's room is no place for a lady.

Mini-mom Takes Manhattan

Panic attacks are not a part of my history, but I found myself feeling like I couldn't breathe, as if I was going to pass out, slouched over my shopping cart at Cub Foods, sobbing next to the brownie mixes.

My sister's and I had just picked up my mother's ashes, so I suppose my panic attack had everything to do with that.  In hindsight it made sense that I was overcome with emotion at Cub Foods as it's where my mother use to grocery shop.  I'm a Byerly's fan myself as I have an aversion to packing my own groceries.

My second panic attack was the next day when I had a horrible feeling that the left side of my back was black, empty and needed to be cut out.  It's where my left kidney used to be before I donated it to my mom seven years ago.

Apparently this feeling isn't all that uncommon in organ donors who have lost the person they donated an organ too.  Learning that made me feel better, if not less crazy.

Not looking forward to dealing with not only the loss of my mother, but potential phantom kidney decay, I decided that I needed a way to help me deal with what I was going through.

One week after my mother died I arrived in New York.  I had already had this trip scheduled.

When my mom was cremated my sister and I ordered little mini urns with a small amount of our mom's ashes in each.  We took to calling them "Mini-mom".

I brought my "Mini-mom" with me to New York.  She had never been to the Big Apple before and I knew she would have loved to go.

People have different ways of dealing with grief, and loss.  When you loose someone close to you other people tend to accept what they might normally consider odd behavior, because you are grieving and all.

My goal was to take my Mini-Mom around New York, taking photos along the way.

Mini-mom at the Top of the Rock

Our first day in New York was a tough, but panic attack free day. We visited the Top of the Rock, which had the most amazing views of the city.  You wouldn't think you could shock New Yorkers.  Try pulling out your mother's ashes and asking them to snap a photo of you and mini-mom.  That surprises them.

Mini-mom under the Bow Bridge in Central Park

 I learned quick that it was better to not tell people what you were doing, but to just let them look at you inquisitively when you placed a mini urn on the ground to take a photo.

Mini-mom at The Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel

The other thing I figured out was that if you are in a public place, such as a restaurant, it is best to whip out your mini-mom and snap the photo when you are done eating and ready to leave.  Just incase it makes the staff uneasy and they ask you to leave.

Mini-mom playing checkers in Central Park

We are three days into our trip and I've gotten very comfortable shooting photos of mini-mom, even sharing what I'm doing with people we have met along the way.  Most aren't freaked out by it.  I've been finding that elderly people get the biggest kick out of it.

Mini-mom at the Champagne Bar at The Plaza

Mini-mom has become quite the lush since we have been in New York.  We can hardly keep her out of the bars ;)

I know the change of scenery has helped me greatly.  I haven't had a panic attack or breakdown since leaving home a few days ago.  It's harder to be around the familiar.

For now I feel like I'm on just another adventure with my mom.  One of the many that we have had over the years.  I'll be home in two days and back to my routine, which I know will be harder to deal with.

I'm thinking that if I'm home and having a tough time, or the panic attacks start sneaking up on me, I'll just grab mini-mom and head out for an adventure around my own town.  My mom had an adventurous spirit, more than her body could handle.  Those adventures don't have to stop.