Olympic Hum

The excitement is overwhelming. So overwhelming in fact that I've never felt such excitement in all my life. The anxiety builds throughout the day with everything I do. How am I even at work right now? Well not right now. It's actually 10:00 at night...but how do people do this. Work right up until their wedding?


It's not that there is even anything left for us to do. It's done. We are ready, so by George, let's just get married already! 


It is by far the most exciting time of my life, and I don't think it's even really hit fully of what is about to happen. What journey I am about to embark on, or what next chapter of my life I'm about to enter.


Last night I had a minor meltdown. Maybe a little bit more than minor. I let my soon to be husband be the judge. It was over the Olympics. THE OLYMPICS. I accidentally told him who won in swimming. What did I know? I just thought it was cool she was gluten free! Long story. Rambling, rambling, rambling. I cried. And cried. And cried. It was. A. Meltdown. And I'm okay with that.


The excitement is overwhelming. I cannot remember the last time I was this excited. 


Just a girl. Really excited. Really ready for Saturday to be here already. Oh just another Saturday, no big deal.

Air Conditioner Buzz

Okay. Let's be honest. And let's get it all out right here, as my husband-to-be has been hearing about it for almost a week now. (And yes, he's on my side. Funny how that works.)

You invite someone to your wedding. You think that they are an important enough part of your life to be in the room on the day you are getting married. Now this is something I in particular do not take lightly. It's a relatively small affair, only closest family and friends, and you made the list! Congrats!

You receive your Save the Date 7 months ago. 7 MONTHS AGO. 7. MONTHS. AGO. Why. Oh why. Do you not save your beans along with saving the date?? 

Yes. I get starving artist 100%. Things coming up in life. Hell you didn't like me all that much. I get flying across the country and making a weekend of it 100%. But I also get that we are friends, right? If you had saved even $25.00 every week since you were saving the date, hell that would cover hotel AND flight! And your booze after our 3 hour open bar cut-off. Am I right? I mean AM I RIGHT??

This goes back to middle school. To my and probably all the other DeCrosta girls problems of being too good of a friend. I bought them all Christmas gifts. All of them. And you know what this girl got in return from all of them? Nothing. Nothing at all. 

Trust me. It's not about the gift. I can tell you that. And it's not that people aren't coming to the wedding. It's that why am I always the girl that will put myself out there and be there for you 110%. No matter what. However you need me. But you can't be there for me. It's an endless cycle in my life worming its way far into my late 20's and for the occasions that really matter.

And hell...remember that small little perfect chapel that only fit 80 max that we couldn't have when we thought you, and the guest you wanted to have were coming? Yeah. We lost out on that. Yep. Yep we did.

So brides to be: don't feel disappointed if they aren't coming. Don't feel bitter either. Or like you need to passively get it all out in blog form. Or even like why did I waste a stamp because I had to track YOU down and you couldn't even send back the RSVP card when you first got it knowing that you weren't coming!

Just breathe. As I am doing now. Just breathe. As I will continue to do for the next 3 weeks. 

Just a girl. Just breathing. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing.

Hayes Carll

The world outside just goes and goes and goes and goes...

I'm telling you. And I'm telling you again. My memories are fading. My memory isn't right. I can't remember that. NO really I can't. No it's not just because it wasn't important, or wasn't great, or wasn't significant. I can't remember any of it. The good, the bad, the pretty, ask me, I can't remember.

The conversation had 3 years ago. A phone call had 3 months ago. The thoughts in my mind only really allow me bits and pieces. I can't understand why. What's happening, why is it happening, when did it start to happen?

It can't happen now. NO, not now. I borderline won't let it happen now. Don't you know I'm getting married? Don't you know that in 6 weeks I'm getting married and I can't spare any one of those details. Hell, these details. The details in my head right this very minute. I practically can't even remember what color my dress is. No it's not that bad, but it's all foggy and fading and not exactly right. I'm just not sure what's going on.

It really doesn't seem right. It's so many things, like full months. It's conversations that I had had that I used to be able to recite perfectly. Have I blocked out this many years in my life? Is that what it is? Was I that unhappy? Full trips homes from California, birthdays, holidays. No this isn't like what was for dinner stuff, this was like, what was the anniversary of me moving back home? Or how long ago did I shoot Plague Town? Or how many over nights did it shoot for? Or or or...

I can't understand. This should not be happening now. Should it be in sickness and in health and memory loss?

The confusion. The delirium. The early on-set Alzheimer's. It's all happening or not.

Just a confused girl. Wondering why she can't quite remember, hardly any of it. 

Carla Bruni

So.  Um.  Getting married, huh?

Wait, was that the punchline?

I'm clearly sitting in a hypothetical room with hundreds of other women, and men, looking up at the screen watching it all happen. Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with said girl. Boy gets down on one knee in front of girl. Girl screams and says YES, cut to some crazy wedding planning-family drama-wedding planner cray-cray storyline. Cut again to boy and girl at the alter kissing. The. End.

OH MY GOD, it's so not the end! You have to plan EVERYTHING! What color the flowers are and if you want them to have texture, and who gets to bring a guest, and color palettes...I'm sorry what? I need a color palette? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I like black. Let's go with that. OH, that screams funeral? Okay then white. OH, that's so ten years ago? Seriously? Sigh.

Last night I dreamt I forgot to write my vows. True story. Because my fiance' and I are going to be that couple. Yep indeed, if you knew us would you have any doubt? That couple that will do it all their way or the high way. So I was standing up there and was like...I like you, the end. And while cute and all...I don't think that exactly promises a life of love and sickness and heath and indie music. For real.

So here I sit. Ordering personalized cocktail napkins, wondering, when exactly it all got to this point.

Of course I had always dreamed of getting married, but as cliche' as it sounds, the right one just never came along. And then he did. And then I was looking at table cloth swatches.

Be careful what you wish for. 

And love it for every single amazing minute. Because it goes way too quick.

77 days and counting, and it will be here tomorrow.

Just a girl, on her way to making the single most important commitment of her life, questioning, can they even dye my eyes to match my gown? Jolly good Dover. 

Running Water

Two years ago I eagerly drove up to that Petsmart. Or down as it were. Approximately 1 hour from my warm Valley Village apartment. Could hardly wait to see him. Meet him. My destiny. My knight in shining armor.

Two years ago, I felt a loneliness that was so thick around me, it constantly started in my throat, welling up and flooding through me. It practically strangled me for breath on that New Years only two weeks prior. I had to do something. Go out and find something. I needed him, truly.

I drove and drove, making sure I was early for the new boy I was to meet. Although I was early, he was late. Clearly he had no idea that someone was waiting for him. To love him. To cuddle him. To wipe his tears. To shield him from the rain. To bundle him when it was too cold.

They opened the back of the van. Dogs barking, and crying. They began to unload cages and stack them 6 feet high so that people could look inside, and he, my boy, look out. With tears in his eyes, he shook and shook. Laying on his bed with a pink collar that couldn't possibly be his. Not knowing what would happen next...that I would step in and happen next.

I moved closer to the cage and said, "i would like to meet Speed Racer please..."

And so, our story began. As ran to the bank down the street, I was almost scared he wouldn't be there when I got back. How could someone else not try to scoop him up. 

Moments later, I returned back, donated my money and walked inside the Petsmart with a new bundle of joy in my arms. He wiggled, but I held my own, making my way through the store grabbing a collar, leash, food, new toy.

Back in my car, he sat in that seat next to me, terrified of where he was being taken.  I told him not to worry, he was going home.

Just a girl, remembering with fondness and warmth, the day she met her beloved dog, and best friend. Her Banksy. Who knew a dog could mean so much, while being just so little. My heart. 

Rolling Stones

A can of worms. A proverbial can of worms. Any way you slice them they are worms.

Wiggly, squiggly, never trust em', worms. 

Staring at us right in the face. How they even got in the can is a whole other story. Did they jump in? Walk? Politely knock on the door, ask if anyone was home, and move in when no one invited them? Worms. They may be staring at us, but really we can't possibly be staring back.

It was a can of worms that had been opened this week. Not due to anyones fault but maybe everyone around. Maybe mine. I'm not really sure. This can didn't necessarily have negative repercussions or anything of that sort. But you know, the kind that the second it is opened you get a little twinge in your stomach. Then later it becomes more of a sick feeling as more and more of the worms slither out. Making their way. Spreading the word. Or the rumors. Or however they want to interpret whatever it is that they are trying to do.

Worms. They are just gross when you think about it. Who would ever even want to do such a thing as "open a can of worms" anyway. I'd rather open a can of corn, or better yet, a can of macadamia nuts. I wouldn't mind them hopping out of a can. They seem like they would hop don't they? Probably bring the news a whole lot more gracefully then those worms could ever pull off anyhow.

Worms.

Just a girl. With a can of worms. Awaiting its outcome. Or better yet, telling her next secret to those damn macadamia nuts. They would really know how to do it up right. 

Imelda May

Hunger. Starving. Salivating. Ravenous.

Give me a cheeseburger already, my goodness. Cheeseburger? Hell, I'll take a carrot stick at this rate. My stomach must be eating itself. I have never been this hungry in all my life. The pangs, so deep I feel as though they start in my stomach and are bursting through my spine. Wait. I might throw up. Nope. Just in need of food.

I have never craved anything so badly in all my life.

I now know what Edward Cullen feels like. Christ. How does he stand it.

96 hours. 96 hours I have been gluten-free and I think my body is rebelling. Or it's smart and it's screaming, cheering even, as loud as it can "thank you so much Josslyn! you got rid of that crap!"

My GI doctor has advised me to follow a gluten-free diet and see how I feel. While not having full blown celiac, I may have a gluten-intolerance. Um, hello, does she know who she's talking to? 

This gal? This full fledged Italian? My pasta? My penne? Spaghetti? Linguini? Ravioli? Cannelloni? You have to be kidding! As she said the words, I sighed, took two deep breaths, and I said..."i'm in, as long as it gets this stomach better, i'm all in". 

Who knew that being "all in" could possibly bring "the hunger". A legitimate term that celiac sufferers know all to well. Those moments as your body heals and screams for the nourishment its been lacking for years, maybe even a lifetime. 

The hunger. THE hunger. THE HUNGER. It builds slowly. Maybe subsiding with that carrot, or yogurt, or piece of fruit. But then, it happens all over again. The hunger.

Just make it to 100 hours. Then 125. Then 200, 400, 1,000! Feel better already you stupid body!

Just a gluten-free girl, telling herself, you can take gluten out of the girl, but you can't take her love of all things gluttonous. Double meaning? I think not.