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.