Weird FaceI don’t even want to go into the back spasms that ensued at the gym today. Suffice it to say I’ve got some appointments lined up and that I spent the good part of the afternoon being waited on by my loving husband. He is worth every day of that year that I stalked him before he would so much as kiss me.

Aside from him, my present scenario is rather uninspiring. As a result, my mind drifts into the past and the future. I’d prefer to write about those things today if its alright with you.

Past: when I was a little girl, I believed I was psychic and had special powers. And you know what? I did. Seriously. Two small examples to prove this are as follows:

1. The Pink Box. As a small child I was absolutely obsessed with rocks. Ever since the day I found a genuine obsidian arrowhead on our family “camping trip” to the desert (which was a glorified party away from the eyes of the authorities in the middle of nowhere for our parents, kids in tow,) I had this little cardboard box full of my most precious stones. For my tenth birthday, my aunt brought me a pink metal box to replace my dilapidated one. It was a special box because it had previously belonged to someone in the family and therefore had heirloom status. Unfortunately, there was a catch. The box was permanently locked shut with a built-in spinning combination lock. It could not be cut off, and therefore the only way to use this treasure without damaging it was to solve the combination. Mental notes were already being made as to which rocks were to receive the little pink box promotion…I absolutely had to get inside. With the lights turned off in my bedroom, my eyes stared into the combination lock as if seeing through it. I just knew that if I cleared my mind and felt the nob of the lock, it would turn to the combination. You guessed it, I solved the thing in less than five minutes.

2. The Thunderbird. Less than a year later, in another family hand-me-down story, my powers were again tested. My great-uncle left his hideous T-Bird car to my Grandma, and she graciously passed it down to my dad. With the once-black paint pealing off the hood of the car, and the once-red velour interior fading to pink in splotches resembling continents, it was far from a beauty. But for us, it was luxurious. It was our first car with automatic windows and doors, and the stereo had buttons instead of turn-nobs. The coolest feature of all was the state-of-the-art keyless entry on the driver’s side door. Press five buttons in the right sequence, and magically, up pop the door locks. Unfortunately we would never get to use this feature, as Uncle Frank took the combination with him to his grave. When my dad told me this, I saw sadness in his eyes, as if he was being let down by fate; God finally sends him a luxury car, and he can’t even use all the features. With my pink box victory in my mind, I feigned disinterest until everyone else tired of the car and went inside to watch TV. Then, tiptoeing right up to the door, buttons inches from my nose, I zenned the shit out of that lock and 1-2-3-4-5 bang! First try, unlocked the door!

Call me a liar if you dare, but that is the truth. Those two things and at least three other (far less convincing) stories really happened. This has made me question impossibilities my entire life, developing an intense sense of autonomy, fearlessness, and the belief that I am special. Just last month I unlocked one of those twisting bicycle cable locks that had been laying around for 3 years since we forgot the combo. I just decided one day that I was going to unlock it, and I did it in less than 2 minutes. Please don’t send me away.

Every once in a while, when I’m not cracking open locks, my powers extent to telling the future. This is one that I don’t mess with much, because the only time I got it right was the first time I met Jesse and saw us married in the future. Creepy I know. But after my back spasms and hours of time on the couch today, I’ve decided I’m going to give predicting the future a shot before my doctors visits.

Me thinks…hmmmmmoogalieboogalie…that actually the whole thing is due to a ruptured disk or disk problem between L3 and L4, and that the hip pain was simply referred pain from a less common form of sciatica. Since I haven’t had pain in the butt and hamstring, nerve stuff has been dismissed, but with a negative MRI, Bone/CT Scan (oh yeah, I found out it was negative today, right before the back spasm), there has to be something to explain this crap. Someone will discover that, and I I will be cured in less than a week after diagnosis with epidural shots or some other painful injection of some kind. And there will be lots of “how could we have missed this!” going around. Boom.