cindy's world

Morning sickness set in last week. At first I wasn’t sure what it was, because it doesn’t feel like regular nausea (yet), it feels like carsickness. And a few times when I’d experienced it, I was in the car, and Mr. W drives kinda maniacally, so it’s not unusual I’d get carsick. But then I started having the same sensation when I wasn’t in the car. Namely, when I was looking at or thinking about a food that I suddenly can’t bring myself to want. Egg- and meat-aversion had set in, and when I considered those foods, I’d get that carsick feeling. I’d immediately feel better when I thought of refreshing foods I did want — carrots, celery, tofu. Then this carsickness would occur more often, when I wasn’t even thinking of food. I read in my baby book that morning sickness is strongest on an empty stomach, and the best way to quell it is with consumption of dry carbs or other starchy foods. It works; a piece of toast, a handful of Cheerios cereal, they all do wonders.

I learned just this past weekend, when I returned to the gym, that there is a progression with my morning sickness. First I’m hungry. Like, truly empty-feeling stomach growling hungry. This happens pretty often, as the hormone that says “I’m hungry” gets secreted more often and the hormone that says “I’m satisfied now” gets blocked thanks to pregnancy. If I ignore the hungry feeling, the next stage I go into is the carsickness thing. I’m truly empty-stomached and my body wants food NOW. I’ve found that if I go through a mental rolodex of foods at this time, my body will make it very clear what foods it wants and what foods it wants to puke up (not that I’ve puked yet). Occasionally I want junk food, which is impossible because bodies don’t naturally crave Cheetos, so I try to break it down and see what the body is REALLY asking for that my brain recognizes as the junk food. Typically, if it’s junk food, it’s salt and carbs. I’ll feed myself a healthy version of that — whole wheat toast with garlic spread and garlic salt, for example — and my body is happy. Apparently it’s quite common for pregnant women to crave carbs and salt (glucose for energy, salt to balance out the water retention). If I pass this point and don’t feed my body, it goes into a crazy light-headed anemic dizzy nearly fainting spell. I got there yesterday; I was at the gym with Mr. W and his son, and they usually work out for a long time. I did a 10-minute warmup on the elliptical machine, and after that I was already in the hunger stage. I had no food, so I moved on and did 7 resistance exercises mostly in superset form, with little to no break in between to get the utmost cardio benefit. I then hit the point of nausea. Mr. W and his son weren’t done yet, so I pushed through and completed my exercises, then went back for 20 minutes of cardio which, instead of cooling me down, made me pant for the entire time, and for almost 15 minutes afterwards, unable to get my breathing and heartrate back down. I was lightheaded and sick, having burned through all the glucose in my bloodstream such that now neither I nor the fetus had any left. I listened to my body and it wanted Korean soon tofu soup. Sodium, protein. Mr. W said he wanted to introduce his son to Mother’s Market’s vegetarian cafe, and altho the thought of that brought about a nausea reflex in me and I was sorely disappointed at not having what my body wanted, I went along. It was practically across the street, thankfully, and I was hoping I could go into the market section to buy a box of wheat saltines I could have immediately, and have around me in the car or at work the next time things got this bad. Mr. W said they’d have saltines at the cafe section even tho I’ve never seen them serve it, so we went straight there. Not only did they not have crackers of any sort, but the food took almost 40 minutes to arrive after we ordered, and Mr. W himself ran out to the market section and bought two boxes of random healthy-sounding crackers. He returned a minute after the food got there. Thank goodness I was able to find a tofu vegetable sandwich on grilled sourdough, it was perfect. I had a side of lemon quinoa, and I was 100% again. My body needs protein, but with a meat aversion, I was getting it from vegetarian sources — tofu, soy products, quinoa, beans. Mr. W’s son asked me, when his dad was at the grocery section, when I find out the sex of the baby. I said I thought it was around 5 months; he was disappointed it would be so long and said he could hardly wait to find out. I told him how recently, someone had asked me if his kids were okay given that I was now pregnant, and I had said that they’re excited. It’s funny how people expect a lot of competition; Daughter thought it was ridiculous that people assumed she and I compete for her dad’s attention, or that we don’t get along, or that she’d be upset about the pregnancy, too. She was pushing for this kid before *I* was onboard. I guess her newer friends have also asked her about me and asked whether I was mean to her, and she always said, “No! She’s great! We’re like best friends!”

Anywayz, after we got home, Mr. W went straight to bed (it was like 5p) and I hung out with Daughter and Beau until they left for Fellowship (yeah, they still go, but not as often). Then, still with strong cravings for Korean tofu soup, I went to wake Mr. W up at 8:30p. He said he wasn’t sleeping, just laying there, but that I was going to have to get Korean soup alone. “What?! You said after the gym that we could go there for dinner! You’re really gonna make me go all the way to Irvine alone? You suck!” He got up. We discovered a GREAT Korean restaurant called Kaya Restaurant, oddly in a plaza we’d frequented but didn’t know was there but the online reviews for the place were very good. The service was unusually good for an Asian restaurant, and their tofu soup really DOES taste better than the other chain restaurants. I was SO happy when we got home.

The day after I was cleared to exercise again was a court holiday, Cesar Chavez day. (Don’t hate me just cuz you don’t get ethnic days off.) The stepkidlet left early for class as I was in the kitchen, and I suggested kayaking at the lake when she returned that afternoon. She loved the idea, and Beau said he may join us after his workout scheduled for noon. Turned out Daughter’s last class was canceled, so she was home by noon. She didn’t think Beau would make it since his workouts are sort of a career thing as he’s a basketball person, and his workouts take practically a full workday. (He didn’t get out of the gym until 5pm, so he did miss the lake, altho he stopped by afterwards.) Daughter meanwhile had also invited one of her best girlfriends, Kylie. So basically, I was going to end up kayaking with my stepdaughter and her boyfriend and/or her best friend. When did I start being one of those parents that hang out with their teenage kids’ friends? Maybe I should invite them all to go clubbing with me with the promise that I will buy them beer. =P (I mentioned this to them at the lake, and they both thought it was really funny, until Kylie told a story where a schoolfriend’s mom really DID offer her to share a bong. Kylie told that mom uncomfortably, “No thank you, I don’t do that.” I’m not gonna be one of THOSE moms.) It turned out to be a beautiful day, 90 degrees out and sunny. We all soaked up the Vitamin D, drifting in our kayaks, dangling our toes in the water.

The day before, Mr. W and I scored free tickets from a coworker of mine to see “Wicked,” and he had texted Daughter something like, “Nyanny nyanny nyah nyah, guess where I’m going after work.” “Wicked” is one of Daughter’s favorite Broadway musicals, if not absolute favorite. So while we were at the lake, to get him back, I had Daughter take a photo of me in my kayak. I sent that photo to Mr. W via text along with the message “nyanny nyanny, look where I’m at!” Mr. W was meanwhile at mandatory training in downtown Los Angeles, 50+ miles from home. He wrote back, “You suck. Who are you with?” I guess it was pretty obvious I wasn’t alone, cuz you can see both my hands in the photo on my kayak. Right on cue, Daughter then sent him this photo:

We (those of us on the lake and not at work) got a good laugh. And okay, I admit, there is ONE advantage to the iPhone: front-facing cameras so you can see what you’re taking a photo of, and be sure to get in the frame.

After an hour kayaking, we all decided the perfect way to end our day of leisure is to go to Coldstones for ice cream. I almost bought an entire cookie dough ice cream cake, thanks to college roommie Diana, who DID end up buying an entire Coldstone ice cream cake to enjoy over the course of a few days with her new hubby. But Daughter (thankfully) talked me out of it. She said I should just get a small thing because she knows I don’t normally eat ice cream, and I’m just having cravings, and the moment I get some ice cream in me, I’m gonna be over it. So to not go overboard. I was SO GLAD she had some sense that I didn’t have at the time (I must’ve been out of my mind with heat exhaustion and a blood sugar low), because I took her advice and she was right. Halfway into my small-size mint ice cream with waffle cone mix-in, I was sure I was about done. I’m so glad I didn’t have to figure out how to store an 8″ ice cream cake in the freezer that I’m gonna feel guilty about for the next month.

Yesterday was an eventful day. Mr. W and I went to the beach and had a nice private visit with Rebecca. She focused mainly on the baby stuff. She said she definitely sees a baby out of this so not to worry and keep holding back any expectations or excitement, I don’t have to have my emotions so “in check” or be so paranoid. She sees the anxiety going away the most around 7 or 8 months, because that’s when the baby is viable enough that it will survive outside of me and that’s when I can relax. I guess I am being super-careful. When I walk by a smoker I hold my breath so as to not let any evil molecules pass to the baby; if I’m in doubt about a fish, I don’t eat it; I read about some correlation between eating peanuts during pregnancy and the baby’s future peanut allergy, so I’ve decided to cut out all forms of peanuts from my diet; I’ve been flitting around the nutrition requirements of pregnancy and panicking because my collection of supplements doesn’t have enough of this vitamin or that mineral, wanting to increase my daily intake of pills (it really is ridiculous how many supplements I take a day now). Rebecca told me to not worry about so much detail.
I asked her at what point a person’s soul comes into the fetus, because sometimes I feel connected to him and other times I feel very strongly he’s around, but on the Other Side, not in me. She said it was a great question and she’d never thought of asking that, so she closed her eyes and “asked.” Turns out, the soul typically flits in and out at will until about 2-3 months, then it may decide to settle in and stay. She says as borne humans, what keeps our soul attached to our physical bodies is our breath. Fetuses at that point don’t breathe, so it takes more to stay inside that body; it takes their actual will to stay in. This is why miscarriages are common in the first trimester; a soul flits in and out and then decides something (timing and situation, maybe) isn’t just quite right for them so they’re going to abandon this attempt and come back later. So the fetus/embryo, for whatever reason, just stops developing, and then the mother’s body gets rid of it. She says because I’m intuitive, the times when I feel like, “Welp, me and Riley are gonna go over there and watch TV,” vs. times when I feel like Riley’s doing something for us from the Other Side but isn’t with me and I can hardly believe I’m pregnant, could very well be when I’m aware of his presence in vs. outside of me.
I asked whether Riley and I had any past history (lives) together. That was my court reporter’s suggested question. At first Rebecca said that we definitely knew each other, but that she wasn’t getting any specific info. We talked about that a few minutes and she tried again. She got pictures this time; I was his mother once before, and he was very much about “I’m going to take care of you, mom.” I said, “Aww, how Asian!” She said well, no, it’s not Asian the way I’m Asian now; he looked darker-complected with narrow features, she thought he looked middle eastern or Indian. She was confused what my nationality was, because my rotund and nurturing body was quite dark, with wavy hair, and she couldn’t decide whether I looked Indian or African. I may have been a mixture of both. We were definitely alone, there was no dad/husband in the picture. It is also very much in the Indian culture that a child will be nurturing to their parent when the child is capable of taking care of the previous generation. She said that in this incarnation, Riley has very much the same attitude; he wants to come to take care of me. That was always my mom’s purpose for wanting me to have children — so that I wouldn’t be alone and abandoned in my ripe old age. My argument to my mom was that I would have friends who treat me like family, but she said that’s different, they’re still not family so I’ll learn that she’s right. Mr. W’s take on this was, “What, nobody expects ME to be around to take care of you?” Ha.
Rebecca also said that my hacking sneezing unhygienic courtroom assistant is not going to get me sick, which is something I was hugely worried about, as the courtroom assistant is oblivious and walks around coughing and sneezing into the air, and refuses to take time off for being sick. She is chronically coughing, sneezing, sniffling. Rebecca said the current hacking and stuff is allergies to dust around her in the courtroom, and that obviously, when the courtroom assistant turns on her desk fan (first thing she does EVERY DAY), it unsettles more dust and blows them at her, so she’s constantly having reactions.
At a point, we sent Mr. W out so I could ask a hard question about him. I wanted to know what’s going on with his poor memory and inability to focus and find the right words. She said he’s had a lot more time than I had to be exposed to bad toxic things, like chlorine in the water, poor diet, etc. His brain’s performance is suffering from a lack of proper minerals, which minerals are greatly depleted from our earth (I’d read something about this some time ago) and is therefore missing from our food supply. She recommended some mineral supplements and said it won’t interfere with his other medication. So I’m definitely going to look into that. Mr. W asked later why we sent him out, and I did tell him all this. I said I didn’t want him in there in case she said it was beginning Alzheimer’s or something, because I feel I can handle it alone and don’t want to freak him out. But luckily, it’s just a lack of nutrition interfering with brain function. He said it sure would be nice to be able to focus and think of what he wants to say again. I’m just relieved that 10 years from now, I won’t wake up next to a horrified Mr. W demanding I tell him who the hell I was and where was his wife?

After our session was my coworker’s session. Mr. W and I wandered around the beach town, walked the pier, and came back to meet up with everyone after they were finished. While we were out, Stepdaughter texted Mr. W and said she needs to pay $700 to her church to reserve her plane ticket for a week-long missionary trip she wants to take with her church women’s group (not the “cult-group“) to Haiti. She had brought this up to us before and asked what we thought; Mr. W didn’t say much but I thought this was the perfect time in her life to do this, and it would be so educational for her to leave the cushy OC environment she’d grown up in. She said she would fundraise to come up with the thousands it would cost, so this sudden request for $700 came unexpectedly. Mr. W right away said he wasn’t expecting to pay for her and we’d be gone all day, so maybe this year isn’t her year. (Stepdaughter had suggested the same thing in her text, that she knew how difficult it’d be with our baby expenses and her mom’s moving expense for either parent to help her out, so maybe this year isn’t her year to go. She was asking each parent to pay half, $350.) Everything in me told me Stepdaughter NEEDED this trip, and I started on Mr. W. I said I would give her the $350, I wouldn’t miss it, and I really feel that this IS the best timing for her. I argued that she doesn’t go, she will lose the motivation to do something for herself such as getting a job and fundraising, and she’ll just dick around all summer with the ridiculous cult-group and be the perpetually spoiled OC girl. He finally agreed, and said it’ll just be between me and her that we do this and he’s not going to stand in our way or have anything to do with it. I agreed and texted her right away. She was so grateful and relieved, and said that now her mom would pay. “And the process begins! I know the rest will be provided! And this is such a blessing and an incredible opportunity that I’m NEVER going to forget! Thank you thank you thank you :)”
I wrote back “I have a gut feeling this is something really good for you & the timing is ideal. No school, husband, kids, job. & I feel you will learn, it will open your eyes, & it gives you a goal for fundraising.”
She responded, “Thanks Cindy. Yeah I feel the same way! And I’m so determined to work for this too…not just fundraise but also get a job within the next 2 weeks to help pay and stuff…thanks for the support too!!!”
Since we were now back at Rebecca’s office with our coworkers, I told Rebecca about Stepdaughter and her desire to go to Haiti on a missionary trip this summer. Rebecca immediately closed her eyes to “ask” and then said, “Yes, she can go to Haiti. This is going to be a LIFE-CHANGING trip for her. They’ll be focused on, ‘Let’s preach this and that to them,’ and SHE’ll be more like, ‘How can you talk about that now? THEY HAVE NO WATER! What can we do? We need to get them clean water!’ She will grow tremendously from this trip and her life will take a turn. Maybe something with Peace Corps.” I had that same feeling! Rebecca said, “Well, you know! You’re intuitive.” (To skip ahead, after we got home that night, I handed Daughter the check. She was on her way to her mother’s for dinner and to get her mom’s half, and she told me her mom was “upset.” I asked why. Turns out her mom had hinged her contribution on Mr. W, saying she’d only pay half if Mr. W pays half, and she was “shocked” when she learned that Ana got her half from us. Appparently mom’s plan was to put it all on Mr. W, expecting him to say no, so that he would be the bad guy and not her, but since she set it up as “I’ll pay half only if he pays half,” she was now obligated and called on her bluff. I asked Daughter not to tell her mom that the money came from me. She said of course. She also told us briefly about the “Haiti Training” she got from church, how hot and difficult it was, how dirty, and they drank from simulated dirty water which was water with dark food coloring. She was VERY disconcerted about the dirty water.) I also brought up a concern about Daughter’s involvement with the “cult-like” religious group. Rebecca said the group sounded weird, but that it didn’t matter; they were just a part of Daughter’s journey and had no direct influence on Daughter’s fate. Her life and her learning was her own, independent of them. WHEW!

Around that time, my coworker returned from the restroom and joined us. She looked so much better, and just seemed lighter after her session. One of her close friends, another coworker (we’ll call her Coworker 2), went halfers on the hour-session with me and had gone in with Coworker 1 for moral support and to take notes. The four of us went for a nice seafood lunch nearby, and the Coworker 1 treated us all, insisting that this would be a celebration of her recently deceased mom’s life, and a celebration for the new life starting in me. Afterwards I thanked her for feeding my kid, and we parted ways.

Mr. W and I walked to the coffeehouse to meet up with Rebecca again for her open session workshop. Soon, my jubilation was increased as Idlehouse came by (I’d told her the next time she was in town, to let me know so I could tell her if Rebecca would also be in town for the free coffeehouse workshop; Idlehouse had a phone reading with Rebecca about a year ago), followed by my court reporter, my stepson (!!! by himself, too!), and Maggie and her hubby. It was great seeing everyone, and meeting Idlehouse in person. Everyone asked a couple of questions, including the Stepson. Afterwards, I walked Idlehouse to her husband’s car, where I waved at him, and smiled at her sleeping toddler in the backseat. What a lovely family. Then I rejoined Mr. W and his son. I asked what Son thought of his first dealing with a clairvoyant, and he said it was really cool. (I was afraid he’d been bored.) He want to come again for the next time. Yay! Son’s been growing up a lot in the past months, and I like the person he’s becoming now. He’s less contrary, seems at peace, and much more open. He’s been working out nearly daily, and Mr. W joins him at the gym whenever possible. The two of them bonding is probably what made Son come on his own to meet us at the coffeehouse that day. He also said he has outgrown the ghetto boys he used to drive down to hang out and do less-than-legal things with all the time. AND, he’s now coming into the realization that the universe is bigger and more inclusive than he’d previously thought, and that’s brought him some comfort.

After leaving the beach, Mr. W and I drove to my parents’ and dropped off the giant earthquake survival kit we’d made for them. They were shocked, saying they expected a little first-aid kit (which was also part of our giant survival rolling duffelbag). I said no, we’re making sure they survive for weeks given a huge disaster, but that if nothing happens in a year, to remember to break open all the food in there and eat it all. They said they’d have an emergency food party.

Well, just one friend: Ann. She’s had her ups and downs, and I’m banned from gymming, so she came over after work yesterday with a delicious Papa John’s pizza while Mr. W was pumping iron at the gym without me. She introduced me to amazing dipping sauces, which made me eat all my pizza crust. I’m drooling right now thinking of it. Anyway, we talked, laughed, and traded stories. I finally found out what she FIRST thought of me, given the odd way we met. She was afraid I’d be offended, but I didn’t find her opinion offensive, especially when “intelligent” and “compelling” were two of the words she used to describe me back in ’06. I’d practically excuse anything after that, haha. (There’s a joke in here somewhere about how she TRIED to stay away, and couldn’t, and found herself sucked into Cindy’s World. Can you blame her, with posts back then like this? We stumbled upon this post and I laughed out loud.) Also, we found out just how small the world is, not that we didn’t already know given how she and I met. It’s interesting to hear her side of a couple in which I know the different side, as we’d just discovered yesterday that one of her friends is married to someone I’ve known since high school. Interesting the images each side of a couple gives their friends, and how the picture looks put together. Life’s pretty cool sometimes. So are friendships, in which you can be goofy, introspective, philosophical, and open over pizza and garlic butter dipping sauces.

Mr. W and I compiled an earthquake survival kit over the weekend. I’d first checked with my parents and asked if they had one, and if not, if they’d like me to make one for them. My dad responded for me to go ahead, so Mr. W and I doubled everything we bought. Unfortunately, as Mr. W is a huge Costco fan, our earthquake kits came out to about $200 each. But that includes first aid kids, lots of food, and two new rolling duffels. We could probably feed the entire neighborhood from our survival kit, or survive a zombie apocolypse, provided we had a big stick to beat off scavenging neighbors in the second scenario. My mom called on Sunday and told me to skip the weekend visit as she was really sick. I protested I had to bring them their earthquake survival kit. She said if earthquakes happen, they will likely be at work, and our giant home-supply kit isn’t going to help anyway. Good point. She said ideally, we should have more portable survival kits in our cars because that’s something we’ll always have with us, no matter where we are. Also good point. Oh well.

On Saturday, we had our first official “event” with Daughter’s new beau. We’d only met him once before, rather recently, and rather briefly. This time, we invited him over so we could all go to sushi at a local favorite all-you-can-eat place. Turned out, despite his telling Daughter that he LOVES sushi, he’d really meant rolls and didn’t realize there’s a whole other world of nigiri. Son came over for lunch, too. So the 5 of us sat at the sushi bar and some of us had a ball. “Some” = Mr. W and Beau; Mr. W’s two kids, Son & Daughter, refused to eat anything out of their comfort zones so they just ordered a bunch of rolls, nothing raw for Daughter. She claims to “hate seafood.” Son did try spicy tuna and seemed to enjoy it. As for me, I was going to just avoid the high-mercury fish, but as soon as the sushi chef learned I was pregnant, he convinced me that I shouldn’t eat most of this stuff raw. He proudly announced that he has an 8-month-old at home, and that he had taken 5 parenting classes, one of which included nutrition for pregnancies. He had all the current info on how sushi should be prepared and limited for expectant mothers. I just deferred to him and let him serve me omakase style. He avoided all fish in the tuna family (ahi, yellowtail, albacore, etc) and did serve me several pieces of salmon, but he’d lightly seared the outer surface of the fish to kill off any surface bacteria, leaving the inside thankfully rare. He also made me special rolls with optimal nutrition in mind. I saw that a bunch had asparagus spears inside. Beau enjoyed everything, and kept trying to get Daughter to try his favorites — salmon and yellowtail. She refused. Hours later, when everyone was hanging out with us at our house and Mr. W took a nap in the La-Z-Boy as everyone else watched March Madness on TV and I played the piano, every few hours the silence would be broken with Beau sighing, “Ooooh, that yellowtail belly sushi!”
Soon Son and Mr. W left for a father-son gymming session, and Beau engaged me in a long conversation about religion. Not just about HIS religion, but about other religions, Calvinism, my beliefs, thoughts on predestination vs. free will, what personal experiences we’ve had in our lives that brought us to our specific beliefs. I respected much of his opinion. Although he is die-hard Christian (newly for a year, so he’s got that born-again conviction), he wasn’t pushy or preachy, and had an open enough mind to accept questions or suppositions I put up. For example, he brought up that the Bible says no woman should be a leader among men, and I said I had a hard time thinking everyone would be okay with that in this age. He said he has no problem with others not accepting this belief of his, and if he sees a woman leader leading men, he wouldn’t condemn her or say anything; if he decided it wasn’t for him, he just simply wouldn’t go to that service. But he doesn’t judge others who believe differently. I asked whether it was possible, in his opinion, that back when that passage was written, it was at a time when women were not allowed to participate in political events, talks, or even allowed to be educated. Clearly if they decided to incite a rebellion, these women would have a disadvantage in being informed, so maybe it was safer to tell people to just not allow women to lead. But that is not true today when women have the same access to information, education, and just about anything else. Beau acknowledged that this is possible, but because he doesn’t feel that he is qualified to start defining Christian rules as “cultural” vs. permanent, he feels it’s safer for him to not redefine anything personally. Because, he reasoned, what would keep someone from redefining all rules, and saying, “Oh, that no-premarital-sex thing? That’s old-fashioned cultural stuff that no longer applies to today’s culture. I don’t have to follow that. Oh, that love-they-neighbor thing? That was back then. Today’s world is different.” I get that. I can respect his logic. I also respect that throughout our discussions, he remained able to intellectualize his reasoning, he never blindly regurgitated Bible quotes or declared a defensive war with me on theology. We both just shared, and asked questions, and really thought about our answers before giving them. If there were something he wasn’t sure about, he’d either think and hypothesize, or say he simply didn’t know. At the end he gave me a hug and said he enjoyed our conversation. We also both seem to dislike the pushy “preachy” Christians who end up being more hypocritical than truly living the spirit of Christianity, as they judge negatively all the non-Christians around them and condemn everyone else’s behavior. Beau said that goes against the heart of Christianity; he believes in living in a way one believes is right according to Jesus, loving and praying for one’s neighbors through the neighbors’ decisions to do things contrary to Christian “law.” He says you don’t spout hellfire at them because you are not “above” everyone else simply because you are saved, and you are not “better” or “more deserving” in Jesus’ eyes. He says we’re all the same sinners, some have just found Jesus already. Again, I can respect that. The only thing that kinda bugged me was that he said he would have to ask someone like Rebecca who her Lord is, and if she gives ANY word response except “Jesus,” he couldn’t participate with her. I asked, what about “God” as a response? He thought and decided no, because “God” is generic and could mean any god, and he didn’t trust himself know whether he was following the “right” God and his intention is to stay on a specifically Christian path. So he wouldn’t take the risk of following non-Christian doctrine without realizing it. I understand that, it’s rather conservative and humble, but at least he’s open-minded enough to converse and learn about other religious views. Daughter, on the other hand, has a harsher more closed-perspective about her religion. She didn’t think she’d return to Rebecca because Rebecca had made a past-life reference in reading someone else, and Daughter said she’d discussed this with other pastors and they didn’t agree with reincarnation, so Rebecca must be — well, she didn’t use the word, but it’s implicit — “wrong” or “bad.” She says she believes in Rebecca’s accuracy, but was unsure of the source from which the information came, despite all of the references to the “universe,” “greater good,” “God,” “prayer.” But because Rebecca didn’t specifically say “Jesus,” that was the problem — she didn’t say the key word for the Christian community. Beau actually gently corrected Daughter, saying if Daughter didn’t know if Rebecca was Christian, she should ask Rebecca before deciding she must not be, and mused that the Bible doesn’t specifically condemn or deny reincarnation, although it addresses mainly specifically one’s current lifetime and one’s afterlife, and he mentioned some story about a woman at the well to whom Jesus said something about her having lived 5 lives. He said he simply didn’t “know” about reincarnation, but that he will once this life ends and he greets his Maker.

So anyway, Sunday was rainy, which was nice for staying indoors. Daughter disappeared early morning to church and didn’t return until about 10:30p (with Beau in tow). Mr. W and I spent the day being lazy. I watched a “House” marathon, read my baby book during commercials, and did a ton of laundry; he played a new game on his computer the entire day, stopping every so often when I would appear to tell him something funny I saw on “House,” something funny Dodo did, or needed a hug in between stupid loads of laundry. And he stopped at 8pm of course (after I yelled and yelled at him from the stair landing, because he played the game with headphones tightly plugged into his ears) to give me my Progesterone shot and massage the offended butt muscle. (Heating pads afterwards work WONDERS!) I also had a nice phone chat with my expecting cousin Jennifer. Her due date is the end of September, so she’s a bit ahead of me and shared some of her first trimester complaints of nausea and how “eating has now totally become a chore.” I shared with her what I’ve learned recently about epigenetics and proper pregnancy nutrition. (You’re eating for 1.1 in the first trimester, not for 2, so doubling food quantity is totally excessive AND bad for the baby.) She made a passing suggestion for going maternity shopping together. I’m still (secretly) hoping to get away with buying little to no maternity clothing. Why invest tons of money for a condition that only lasts a few months of my life? Besides, plenty of today’s fashion is empire-waisted and look like maternity clothes anyway. Much cheaper (and cuter) than ACTUAL specialty maternitywear.

I thought I was entering into the morning sickness stage of pregnancy this morning when I felt a little sick after drinking water this morning, and thought, “Oh no! I have dinner plans with Ann tonight to catch up over Japanese BBQ” But it passed, so I’m hoping it stays away a bit longer.

Mr. W and I took advantage of Orange County Restaurant Week this year. The first day of this promotional week on Sunday, we hit up one of our favorite healthy eating spots, True Food Kitchen and ordered off their prix fixe menu for half the cost. Heavenly, indulgent flavors for no guilt. Tuesday, the day after my eggs retrieval, we took the day off so I could rest, but did skip off for a lunch treat to Andrei’s Conscious Cuisine. I’d never been there but did hear about it from Ann, who’d gone there soon after it had opened last year. The place was SO chic. We also ordered off their 3-course prix fixe menu and Mr W had a spicy blood orange vodka martini (this place makes their own vodka) since he’s now able to drink after his swimmers were extracted.

The food is WONDERFUL. Like True Food Kitchen, Andrei’s takes its ingredients from wholesome, locally-grown sources, organic when possible, but it’s a notch or two fancier than True Food. Mr. W read some reviews online before we left so he ordered a popular, often-raved-about item: boneless beef spare ribs. I had trout, which was also excellent and certainly better than other trout I’ve had, but I was jealous about his savory, melt-apart beef.

I felt bloated and swollen after that meal and was uncomfortable walking, like I had gas trapped in my stomach cavity all the way up to my diaphragm. (Turned out that it’s not uncommon for gas bubbles to get trapped in your body post-surgery and your body works the bubbles out, or absorbs and diffuses it, which is what happened as the week wore on.)
Wednesday after work, Mr. W arbitrarily drove us to The Counter, a customize-it-yourself burger joint with quality ingredients, again organic is available, and their meat is humanely treated, hormone- and antibiotic-free. I also learned about this place from Ann. Hubby got the Wednesday slider special where they pre-selected the toppings for four distinct flavors of burgers, and it came with a beer pairing. I think his flavors were something like Greek (with feta, olives, cucumbers, tzatziki sauce), Asian (carrot strings, scallions, ginger soy glaze), Italian fresco (fresh mozzarella, cilantro, basil, basil pesto sauce), and Buffalo (blue cheese, fried shoestring onions, some spicy peppers, celery, hot wing sauce). He said all the flavor blends were incredible and delicious.

I just custom-picked a burger on whole-grain bun, with Gruyere cheese, grilled onions, black olives, organic mixed greens, sprouts, and basil pesto sauce. OMG, it was SO GOOD. If I were to ever give a burger a standing ovation, it would be at this place. (We went back today with Daughter for lunch, actually.)
Thursday at lunchtime, Mr. W and I looked for a restaurant commutable for lunch that was participating in OC Restaurant Week with a lunch menu. (Some restaurants only participate for dinner.) We went with Cedar Creek Inn, which is near an old residence of mine and I’d driven past it before but never stopped in. I’d always been curious. It’s not a “healthy” restaurant like the first two, but it seemed to have good quality food so I was sure we could find something healthy. The place looked SO cool inside, like a classy lodge with river rocks, high wood ceilings, giant fireplaces. “This is exactly what I’d expect from a place called ‘Cedar Creek Inn,’ ” Mr. W remarked. We had a little snafu going in; we were seated immediately despite not having reservations (the place was crowded with dressed-up business people on their lunchbreaks as well as some older geriatric-age patrons), but as the menus were placed in front of us, we realized we were not given the OC Restaurant Week Prix Fixe menu. Mr. W watched the same older hostess seat another couple and said that they got some long cards that appeared to be the prix fixe menus. He got up and inquired at the hostess table, and returned with the cards. Apparently she rather snappishly told Mr. W he should’ve asked for those special menus when we checked in at the hostess table. What?! Since when did we have to BEG for featured menus? But everything was great after that. The wait staff was attentive and efficient and food came very quickly, each course following the last as quickly as we were done. They obviously were used to people having limited lunchtimes. Mr. W had cedar plank salmon in a misoyake sauce that was VERY good; I had the beef shortribs. HA! Also amazing, melt-apart. We were unfortunately still a little late back to work. I’d totally forgotten I had a meeting and walked in 5 mins late. I was embarrassed, but others walked in later than I did, so I felt better.
Friday, we wanted something special knowing I’d be on bedrest after Saturday late morning for the next 2 days. He also wanted this to be a place to celebrate our last step in the in vitro process. We chose Splashes Restaurant in the Surf & Sand Resort in Laguna Beach. Grace was supposed to be married at that resort, and her reception was to be catered by the restaurant on-site, so I’m pretty sure it’s Splashes Restaurant. I remember it being shockingly expensive when Grace told me about some of her wedding planning details back in ’03. I had no idea that, just because the reservation had the word “wedding” in it, a restaurant would charge PER PIECE of stuffed mushroom appetizer. She did say the food was amazing, though. “Wait till you try it!” she’d said excitedly about their wedding selections. Of course, I never did eat there for her wedding; a year later when she passed, we (her family and closest friends, us bridesmaids) stopped by the resort and scattered some of her ashes off-shore around a little secluded rocky cliff area. Her wishes. So it means something to eat there now. We got there before the normal dinner crowd (the restaurant was booked solid on reservations already between 5:45p and 8:15p, so I reserved for 5:45) and we selected patio seating under two cozy heat lamps. We were right up against the glass overlooking the beach, and were alone on that patio section our entire dinner. Other diners all chose to eat inside or on the lower level patios.

It was so romantic, watching the sun slowly deepen from golden to rose as it set into its liquid bed.

For almost a full hour as we enjoyed our fancy dinner, a family of dolphins played, jumped, torpedoed right in front of us. I think there must’ve been 7 or 8 of them. In our private enjoyment and conversations, Mr. W called this the perfect date, and kept talking appreciatively about how great his life is, has been. About time he realized it! haha
I told him it feels to me like this perfect evening before my embryo transplant the next day had a little tag underneath it that reads, “Love, Riley.” Just a little gift, a greeting while he can still pull strings as energy from the Other Side. And the dolphin show? Could be Grace saying hello, thanks for thinking of her, and she’s with me. I feel like she kinda knows Riley. That’d be cool.

(As usual, rest mouse pointers on photos for captions. Photos courtesy Warren, Sabrina and Jimmy, and Mr. W. And my cameraphone.)

Two days before the wedding, on my way home from work, I went to my favorite mani/pedi salon and they actually buffed the dye out of my left hand’s nails. I ended up with a nice-looking clear French manicure. My bangs had also grown noticeably by then so I was feeling better. Although Pearly insisted, after she dyed my hair DARKER instead of lighter like I’d wanted, that it’d lighten on its own in a week with more hairwashes and sun exposure, it did not. I finalized my maid-of-honor speech, printed them out in 3.5″x5″ format, taped them onto index cards, packed, and was ready to leave for Northern California the next day. It had rained in NorCal around the Carmel area that day, so everyone was a bit nervous on weather watch. However, dry sunny weather was predicted for the weekend of the wedding, and it came true better than anyone had anticipated. I was probably as relieved as the wedding couple, because my dress was a short and sleeveless v-neck, I’m more sensitive to cool weather, and this was outdoor oceanside CARMEL in mid-January. I even wore my wedding attire and then walked outside my house in 55 degree weather at night just to make sure I can stand it.

Friday morning around 9:15 a.m., we were off. We got to Diana’s around 4:30p having made a few stops for gas and lunch, and went straight to Target as she was the ever-hardworking athlete getting a last workout in before the wedding. I bought a white French tip polish pen to touch up the chipped tips (yes, they chipped the first day; why do people get manicures?!), then downed a hot toddy at an Irish bar while waiting for Diana to come back. I think that beat back the rest of my cough for the night. For the first time hanging out with Diana, we all went to bed early (10:30ish). Mr. W was happy about that, I’m sure. Eric was already in Carmel with some relatives, having brought down much of the wedding materials (photos, slideshow, etc).

Saturday morning, we were up before 6am and quickly on our way to the hair/makeup appointment in Mountain View, about 10 minutes from Diana’s house.

There was a tiny snafu as my hair/makeup artist forgot about this appointment and was up all night watching Chinese soap opera episodes, and Diana’s hair/makeup artist had to call her and wake her up, asking where she was. Luckily, she was at the salon less than 15 minutes later. My girl did some crazy magic and fixed my bangs with only hairspray. “Don’t touch these bangs!” she warned. “You’ll mess them up and they’ll be uneven again.”

We left for Carmel a little later than scheduled, but got there only 5 minutes later than sheduled. Good thing Mr. W was driving. A funny moment was when we were pulling uphill into the wedding site Highland Inn‘s turnaround driveway, and the sun shone straight into the windshield, blinding us for a moment. We suddenly noticed a man stepping off the sidewalk to our right and darting across the front of our car to the left. Mr. W slammed his brakes. It was Diana’s dad. Good thing we didn’t kill the bride’s father, that’d be a damper on the wedding.

Many of Diana’s friends were there super-early, and she greeted a bunch of them as we made our way to the bridal dressing room. While there, we proceeded to get ready, as many more popped in to say hello. I ended up hugging someone hello while in my bra. I think that was a first. Jimmy, another Bruin whom I’d met the same time I met Diana and remained good friends with, didn’t recognize me when I opened the door to the dressing room. (Not because I was naked, which I wasn’t by this point, but because, as the makeup artist said, “Wow, you look like a completely different person from when you walked in here!” I guess it was true.)

In a quiet moment, Diana and I peeked out at the crowd gathering below and noted the glorious day — brilliantly clear blue sky meets dazzling sapphire ocean.

Diana was remarkably calm, in a pleasant mood the entire time, and only admitted to some beginning nervousness as we stared at the full-length mirror attached to the back of the door, turning our bouquets in front of our dresses for the best placement. My yellow tulips completed the Bruins theme colors of blue and gold, the way the Bruin couple wanted it. Then it was time to assemble for the procession.

Diana’s dad picked us up at the door and we walked out with the coordinator. We stood in order around the turn of a pathway, hidden behind view of the wedding guests, waiting for the coordinator’s clearance as a harpist played on a balcony over the scene.

We hadn’t rehearsed, so I kneeled down and whispered to the little godson of the groom who was the ring bearer. “Aidan, are you nervous?”
His eyes wide, he said, “No.”
I said, “Did they tell you how fast to walk?”
“No.”
“Okay, just wait for her to wave you out, okay? You see her hair? Yup, that’s her. And when you go, don’t run, and make sure to smile because there’s going to be lots of people taking pictures of you, okay?”
“Okay! I see her there with my grandma.” She cued him, and off he went, the ribbons on his little pillow trailing behind him. He did great, even with “his little fake smile” as the groom described it. But he smiled and got to the right place at the right time.

And then I went…

I saw Eric standing at the altar, his brother, the best man, behind him looking so like him I did a double-take in confusion. The smile of recognition was the first thing that helped me identify Eric, as I had never met his brother Kevin before. I smiled and nodded my greeting at him before taking my place opposite the guys’ side.

And then, as everyone stood on cue of the harpist’s strumming of “Bridal March,” the beautiful bride marched into view…

Here was the picture formed at the altar:

The officiant’s face is blocked in the above photo, but I’m posting it because Diana’s veil looks cool. 🙂 (Actually, it’s my veil, as Diana’s “something borrowed.” I joked that I was her “something blue,” although she does have a blue flower in her hair.)
Look at that glorious backdrop. The day turned out to be about 80 degrees in the direct light, and Diana’s shoulders got a little pink from the extra attention the sun paid her. At 11am in mid-January! I said she must’ve done something right and made someone very happy.

Later, as the guests mingled at open bar cocktail hour inside with a live pianist at the grand piano, Diana and Eric took some posed photos around the beautiful grounds of the Hyatt’s Highland Inn.

This is what I all The Picture of Contentment:

The lunch reception was in a different room of the giant resort, and I love going to the weddings of foodies, because they can pick food! Mr. W and I split each others’ salmon (a touch rare in the center, perfect) and spare ribs (chunk of fall-apart tender beef). I made him match me for once:

I wish I knew how to shrink vertical photos. =P

The tastefully Bruin-themed cake:

Before our wedding, I “conditioned” Mr. W about one thing: if he smashed cake on my face, it would be the equivalent to pushing the “Instant Annulment” button. I repeated this a few times leading up to the wedding. He was a perfect gentleman day-of. Diana did no such conditioning, which is how we get great shots like these:

Don’t worry, she forgave him.

I wonder if Diana would’ve let me change right after the wedding, too. Hmm, maybe not. 🙂

Oh, and somewhere in there, before we dug into the food, I gave my maid-of-honor speech. I had ideas popping around my head for months now of things I wanted to touch on, and the weekend before the wedding, I finally decided to jot them down on my phone. Then all there was left to do was flesh the outline out. I got a lot of positive feedback afterwards about my toast, my favorite being the bride’s, which she wrote me yesterday: “We just watched the videos from the wedding; wow, your speech was so
good. Touching but amusing; casual but well prepared. Thanks for taking it so seriously.” In case you want to read it, click on “more” below.

Congrats, Eric & Diana! I could not have found a better match for Diana if I got to hand-pick him myself.

(more…)

My judge wasn’t around the second half of December, so I floated to various criminal courtrooms instead. Criminal is tougher than it used to be for me, because of the new Proposition 36 in effect (eligible drug offenders can opt to go into a drug treatment program instead of getting a sentence, and if they successfully complete the sentence, their case will be dismissed; I’ve been handling way more violations of this program than completions), some changes to the criminal computer program, and because I’m just slower now, having been away from criminal law for so long.

Christmas was low-key and uneventful, just the way I like it. Mr. W tried to coordinate the stepkidlets for a dinner or lunch, but when one is available, the other is not. We ended up going to Original Mike’s with Son for ribs as an early Christmas Eve dinner as Daughter was singing at 4 Christmas church services back-to-back, then we spent some time with Daughter Christmas morning exchanging presents before she rushed off to spend the day with her best friend’s family and we went to have hot pot with my parents and grandma. My parents recently went on a small trip during which my dad found he disliked his current camera, and has been trying to convince my mom to go get a new camera with him since their return. The problem is, my mom knew I had already bought him a new camera for Christmas, so it was her job to stall him. She managed to convince him to hold off on the camera-shopping until after Christmas so they can catch a good sale. He was VERY happy when he opened his gift, and he and my mom have gone hiking since then and sent me photos they took while on the trails.

New Year’s Eve was spent with Eddie and Michelle at their house. They invited a bunch of friends over and set up three long tables for Chinese hot pot. Each table had their own hot pot, half clear broth and half red-hot spicy Szechuan. Mr. W was in hog heaven. They bought so much stuff for ingredients, and there were tons of stuff we’d never tried before, such as a calorie-free noodle tied in a knot. There were a lot of new moms and a pregnant woman in attendance, and toddlers running around. I guess that’s how friend gatherings are going to be now that we’re all at “that age” or that stage of life. Since Eddie and Michelle live in Pasadena, very close to the annual Rose Parade route, we’d planned to stay the night and visit the parade in the morning. However, as Mr. W and I were up chatting with Eddie and Michelle until 3:30am, we woke up after the parade ended, so we walked ot a quaint nearby town and had lunch instead. Another couple met us there, with their ultra-friendly 10-month-old boy in tow. The mom is pregnant again. Both the mom and dad are Asian Americans whose jobs transferred them to Beijing, where they met and started their family. They’re back in the States visiting their respective families for the holidays. The lunch table conversation was very informative (for me and Michelle, both thinking of having our first this year), and now we want to have our kid in China and get pampered the way this friend was. There’s new information to consider, definitely.

On our drive home from Pasadena, Mr. W called each of his kids to check up on them. They both seemed to have avoided big scenes out; Son spent the time at a friend’s house with many more friends playing beer pong and hanging out. He said his New Year’s Resolution is to stop smoking all things — marijuana, cigarettes, anything that requires inhalation, he was going to avoid. Even if he doesn’t stick to this 100%, any little bit of bad stuff avoided is extra good stuff banked in his life. And at least this means he knows better and has made a decision about where he feels he should and wants to be. Daughter had dinner with her boyfriend and his parents, then because he wanted to attend a couple of parties and she wanted low-key, he went out and she went to her best friend’s house to just hang out and watch TV and sports. Mr. W and I stopped by the Irvine Spectrum on the way home for lack of anything better to do, and seeing a sale sign, I went into a Levi’s jeans store and bought my first pair of Skinny-cut jeans. They have a new “curvy” cut that allows for more room in the butt and hips with a smaller waist, so that was a winner for me. I never wanted to get “skinny cut” jeans but if I want fitted jeans with legs that would fit inside boots, this is all the fashion world has to offer anymore. No more slim cut, no more fitted cut, just “skinny” and “ultra-skinny.” This just means I’ll have to work harder to look good, I guess.

Yesterday, Mr. W baked a lasagne I’d assembled on Friday and I spent all day watching a House marathon on TV, as Mr. W watched sports, played games on his iPad and his PC. The only time we got out was when we did a 4.5 mile run soon after we got up, and got back just in time to miss the rainfall.

Let’s see if I can whirlwind my way thru this, altho I’ve never been good at concise posts (unless I’m hiding something, ha).

Thursday:
Mr. W and I had discovered a weird raised mole on his shoulder so I made him an appointment with a doctor to get a referral to a dermatologist, if needed. Turns out the regular doctor said it was benign so that was good news, no derm referral necessary. We took the afternoon off work for the appointment, so we went home, he packed a few things, and we went to La Costa Resort & Spa in Carlsbad to spend the night. College roommie Diana and her fiance Eric had a certificate from their gym for a free night there, and she’d stayed there before on a business trip, and they gave us the certificate since it expires mid-month and they weren’t going to use it. The place is so nice! We were given tip top treatment with a golfcourse view off a huge suite, visited a quaint little oceanside town for dinner, enjoyed the huge tub, ate well, took walks. Great time.

Friday:
We took an early walk around the amazing resort grounds, had breakfast overlooking the greens, packed up, checked out, and went to my ob-gyn appointment. The doctor was very nice and looked at the ultrasound printouts the fertility clinic gave me, and agreed that up, these polyps need to come out. She made the referral and I’m expecting a call from the coordinator telling me the when and where and who. This doctor feels like it could be an office visit, much like the LEEP I did years before, and I didn’t need to be put through traditional surgery with the anesthesia and all that. That’s good cuz putting put complete under kinda wigs me out. So I get to watch polyps being removed on the screen. After the appointment, we went shopping at Fashion Island and I bought some stuff for my staff for xmas presents.

Saturday:
I’d booked a half-hour private reading with Rebecca, and booked a half-hour private reading for Mr. W’s friends Yvonne and Yvette right after hours, and invited Rebecca to lunch with all of us afterwards. Rebecca’s office was decorated very spa and very zen, and I commented enthusiastically on the decor as I went in. But minutes after I sat down on the couch, I noticed a compression type of feeling, like the atmosphere was heavy and dense, like I was in the pressurized cabin of a plane. Soon afterwards I found myself straining to take some deep breaths, as if there were pressure against my chest. Then the ear-ringing happened. I thought about bringing this up to Rebecca but didn’t, thinking if there were high-voltage power lines over her office or something unsafe like that, she’s the psychic, she’d know. (I’d brought this up with Mr. W afterwards and he did not feel any of these things.) As soon as she went into our readings, I got distracted and forgot about those feelings. She’s pretty specific when she’s doing private readings, not having to be tactfully private as she is when she’s in a crowd in the coffee shop. She even described our fertility doctor down to a tee, when I expressed concerns with our finances. She asked who the doctor is, and I just gave a last name, no gender. She immediately said, “Does he wear glasses?” Yes! “He is sort of balding on top, slender, petite?” YES YES YES! She says he’ll work with us, talk to him about splitting payments or payment plans; he sometimes needs to be reminded that his patients are humans, but that he’s amenable to working with us. She also said she felt a second child or soul coming to us after the first one. INTERESTING. I was afraid to look at Mr. W when she said this. Haha! After the readings, Rebecca’s husband and young son joined us and we all walked over to a Mexican food place next door to the coffee shop and had a great lunch.

Sunday:
We invited my parents over to treat them to a movie at the VIP Theatre we’ve been going to. They drove down and we had a good time walking around the town after the movie. Unfortunately, the movie that was playing was “Love and Other Drugs,” which I did not look into and just took Mr. W’s word that it was a romantic comedy. Turned out, it was practically a porno. Mr. W apologized to my parents afterwards for not realizing there was so much sex, but my dad laughed it off. After they left for home, Mr. W and I waited for his son to get here; he was over last week and said he was interested in coming with us for Rebecca’s group reading on Sunday, and for us to text to remind him. So I texted Sunday morning, “Reminder…rebecca tonite, be here by 6. :)” He texted back “K” and I was excited. Unfortunately, last minute he decided that a better offer came along to play tennis, so he flaked on us, telling his dad it was because his dad didn’t get back to him on what time Rebecca’s thing was (altho I’d told him to be here at 6p), so he had made plans to play tennis at 8:30 with his friends. Mr. W’s daughter, nearly out of her mind from studying for her finals for the last 4 days, spontaneously decided to come with us. That was unexpected since her religion typically frowns upon things like psychics, reincarnation, etc. She brought her study material and set up at the coffee house. She did participate openly, asking a few questions, watching people get readings on past-life stuff, said she’d never even considered the possibility that this isn’t our one-and-only-shot here as her church always insists it is. She was so touched and impressed by Rebecca she immediately contacted her closest friends and family and wants to book a private session. He even texted her brother saying they can split a private reading, he texted back that’d be cool and that he should’ve come. She said, “Yeah, you should’ve. :(” His flaking bothered me more than I thought it would. I couldn’t figure out why, since it’s not like he’s never flaked before. But I guess this was the first time I had REALLY expected him come through, and it meant something to me personally that he come through, because attendance was a promise he’d made ME. Rebecca did say in our private session on Saturday, tho, that I give him the materials, and it’s up to him to deal with it or not, but that he had a few years left of growing up to do before he came out of the teenager mindset he’s in.

So anyway, since I was up all night feeling bothered anyway, I thought I’d write Rebecca an email. Her response totally blew my mind…

Me:

Hi Rebecca! As usual it was great seeing you today. There were a lot of new people so I didn’t ask anything, giving them an opportunity to get to know you. But something I wanted to bring up…

When I visited you at your office on Saturday, within a few minutes of sitting there, I felt like the physical pressure inside the room was really high. Like in a pressurized cabin of a plane, or when you’re sitting half in and half out of a car and can feel that the pressure inside is denser than outside, and it makes your inner ears feel funny. And then I felt like there was pressure on my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Then my ears started ringing. I’m not sure what that was, and thought about bringing that up to you, but I figured that if there were something “off” about your space, that you’d be the first to know.

Rebecca:

First of all, Cindy, I just want to tell you what a delight you are in so many ways!

The energy you picked up on in my office was several things; the presssure in your chest was your empathy of my asthma. Being empathic means you feel other’s physical or emotional feelings. When that happens, simply acknowledge that you are feeling something, then send it back to the source from where it came.

The ringing in your ears, the funny feeling of being in and out of a car at the same time was about your exposure to the conscious field in my presence. You are showing integrity and clear intention to know more about God, the Conscious Field and Guidance and the Universe is responding to your request by exposing you to more awareness of what it feels like when there are energies around you.

You are the first to tell me of experiencing these sensations while in my office. I have had others talk about how peaceful it is or that it feels like good energy in there, but your awareness is growing by leaps and bounds.

Ringing in the ears has always meant (for me) that something or someone is trying to get me to stop and listen for a moment. I have always thought of the high pitched ringing as beings that are a lighter vibration such as insects or other small beings letting me know they are also helping and guiding when appropriate. It’s a good reminder that all beings in the Universe are supportive. 🙂

:O!!!
=D!!!
I thought about it, and I had been gradually getting to the point where I was more open to direct contact, whereas before I was a little put off by it. I hadn’t thought the 3 sensations I felt in her office was 3 separate things. I was afraid it’d be something like, there’s high-radiation or high-electrical lines flowing over the ceiling of her office and the building managers didn’t want to let her know how unhealthy that is, so they didn’t tell her it was there. I just figured maybe I was sensitive to that the way some people are sensitive to magnetic fields; it didn’t occur to me that it was third-eye type perception because the feelings were so PHYSICAL. I sent up a thank-you for giving me such clear sensations and exposure to that. I also thanked Rebecca for interpreting for me. I’ve felt stress or anxiety before that wasn’t mine, but never a physical feeling that feels like it’s coming from my own nerve cells. Wow. This just makes my week. 🙂

The weekend before Thanksgiving, Mr. W and I went for our usual parental visit to my parents’ house. As we were about to leave, my mom said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Your Aunt Jessica gave me a book to give you.” She disappeared for a moment and returned with John Edward’s “One Last Time.” I was surprised that my aunt would get me a spiritual book, and one that was so on-the-money something I would read on my own. Usually when people get me books I try to hide my dubious expression out of politeness. “Have you heard of him?” my mom asked. (She was unfamiliar with the author and the subject matter.)
“Yeah, he’s got his own show on TV called ‘Crossing Over with John Edward.’ I’m a huge fan.”
I delved into the book as soon as I got home, and it was a very interesting read about John’s life growing up psychic, his experiences, details on interesting readings done on clients, his theories of life and death and beyond. So interesting, that I read it all week long and then brought it with me to Vegas last weekend to continue reading over Thanksgiving.

Except for an initial awkward period when stepson first arrived Wednesday night and stepdaughter and he did not acknowledge or speak to each other, the two got along swimmingly as soon as we climbed in the car for the drive. We left about midnight and the kids chatted a bit, then slept most of the way to Vegas. Daughter slept in the den at her grandparents’ house, allowing her brother to have the other spare bedroom, which he’d initially expected to share with her. Other than these sleeping arrangements, the two hung out together all weekend and in one or the other’s sleeping quarters until they went to bed. Mr. W offered to sponsor a sportsbet on a football game for Son on Thanksgiving day (he’s now 21), Son chose what turned out to be the winning team, and per agreement, he and his sister split the winnings 60/40. The extra 10% went to Son because the two played darts with that as wager. (Actually, from my understanding, Daughter won the dart game but let Son have the 10% anyway in her weekend of demonstrating generosity to her brother.)

Daughter and I hung out at my in-laws’ (where we were staying) when Mr. W and Son went to the Strip to place and then later to collect on the bet, to allow them some much-needed father-son bonding. Both times when Mr. W returned, he reported the productive conversations they’d had regarding Son’s career choice, social scene, etc. The latest talk had Mr. W’s eyes lit up like it was already Christmas. Apparently Son asked his father about Rebecca, wanting to know how Mr. W understood the cycle of life and spirituality to work. Mr. W told him what he could, then said he wished I were there because I had more information about that type of stuff. So on the drive from my in-laws’ to the Strip one evening, Son brought up something his dad said about Rebecca and asked about what she does. I answered him and then said he should come with us sometime to her workshop when she’s in town. He said he was interested. Then he asked more questions about spirituality and I told him what I knew. This launched an interesting discussion. Daughter was in the back seat, too, but pretty silent. She did ask one question, wondering whether Rebecca’s visions were from God and whether she prays (yes to both). I wondered whether what I was saying was offending her hardcore Christian beliefs. She’s normally one to jump in on God-topics, but she didn’t. Son brought this up again in the car on our drive home Saturday night, and Daughter was completely silent this time. He asked questions, I answered the best I could, told him some stories and case studies that pointed to the existence of life after death, and reincarnation. He was fascinated. The conversation with Son then took another surprising turn. Out of nowhere, he asked into the air, “Do you think I’m competitive?”
Mr. W chortled and said, “Yeah! You’re the most competitive person I know!”
Instead of being offended, Son said thoughtfully, “Yeah, I think I’m the most competitive person I know, too. But it’s starting to affect me negatively because I get really angry, so I think I should try to do something about that.” I gently took him on an exploration of his competitiveness and encouraged him to make a new challenge for himself to go through the motions of not acting angry, even if he felt angry, and assured him that the emotions will follow. He gave the impression he would work on that. We talked about how long it takes to establish a habit, and to break an undesired habit, which is just a new desired habit taking the place of an old undesired habit.
I was floored. I’d said a few times before to Daughter, when we discuss Son’s anger or competitiveness issues, that I wish I could talk to him but he doesn’t open up to me so I can’t bring it up. Son and I had never had a heart-to-heart, never truly bonded. Not the way Daughter and I do on a semi-regular basis. I give him his space out of respect for his teenagerism, but I’ve told him that he could come to me if he wants. He never had until now.

After we got home that night, Son and I talked a little bit more, just the two of us, in the spare bedroom before we went to bed. I read him a passage in John Edward’s book that hit exactly on something he had asked me about. In Vegas, he’d asked me about the book, asking if it were an easy read. I’d told him it was interesting and not dry at all, offering to let him read it when I was done. He was interested. Now he said he definitely wants to read this book. I also suggested he watch the movie “What Dreams May Come” (Robin Williams, Cuba Gooding, Jr.), which was pivotal in my early spiritual development. We made plans for a future screening of this movie together. I disclosed my existential crisis that put me on this path of discovery when I was 21, his same age now. He seemed to be going through a mild version of what I had gone through. The future looked very bright and I was happy. But I had to make sure Daughter was okay with the conversation that didn’t exactly flow along the lines of her Christian beliefs.

I snuck into her bedroom the next morning as she was getting ready to go to church. “Can you believe that [Son] brought up that thing about his competitiveness by himself, and wanted to talk about it?” I asked.
“I know! Out of the clear blue! I was listening to my music and when he said that I was like, boop!” She made a motion like she was pulling a headphone earbud out of her ear.
I laughed, and told her I was glad she stayed quiet because, as she and I had talked about just a couple of weeks before, her prior attempts to introduce God, Jesus, the Bible, and church to her brother just made them all trigger words for him to claim he would never turn to God or Christianity. She had said in that earlier conversation that she wished she’d known then to just show him God’s love instead of talking about it, because he took it as preaching and is now totally turned off by it. As for being offended, she said not at all; she had immediately started praying, as soon as Son opened the topic, “Please, God, speak through them! Get through to my brother!” She said she’d been praying for this type of breakthrough for weeks, and although she was upset when she found out he was coming with us to Vegas, she prayed about that too and got the distinct feeling that she was being told, “Just go and be a part of it, you don’t have to do anything. There are bigger plans for him.” So she went and did not participate in the spiritual discussions, which turned out to be a good thing. Daughter and I both agreed that it doesn’t matter the path one takes to God, the point is he’s getting there.

It hit me Sunday morning, as I was reading the last bit of John Edward’s book, that the book isn’t for me, it’s for Son. The night before when he and I talked privately, he told me he’s been seeing little signs or messages that seem to be pointing him on this spiritual journey (not his term), or in specific directions. He’d wondered whether he was just forcing a connection or a pattern because he wants to believe there is one, or whether these truly are messages. I told him they’re unlikely to be just coincidences. He looked relieved. We talked about how if I’d talked to him about this stuff a month ago, he would’ve thought me crazy, but given his recent experiences, he really thinks there may be something out there, up there. John Edward’s book is fraught with examples of people on the Other Side practically moving mountains to make sure the right people here get the right messages they’re trying to convey. They use signs, other people, unexpected connections. And it only just occurred to me that (1) my aunt uncharacteristically got me this book so that I would have it with me to read over Thanksgiving (and not earlier, or I would’ve finished the book and probably not have thought about it or had it onhand to show/give him; and not later, or it wouldn’t have come up in our discussions), (2) the book addressed all the questions Son had brought up, and (3) although it was an interesting read for me, it wasn’t anything new for me, so it didn’t seem to serve me much purpose, all of which point to the very retrospectively obvious conclusion that the Other Side pulled many strings to get the book to HIM. So I finished the book on Sunday morning, explained this to him, and he gratefully took it with him when he left that afternoon.

Wanna hear some more signs last weekend? The movie we all went to see is “Hereafter,” starring Matt Damon, which turned out to be a storyline very similar to John Edward’s book. (Both kids enjoyed the movie more than they’d expected to.) And we saw John Edward posters around Vegas advertising his Group Reading appearance at the Flamingo Hotel in December. That’s a lot of confirmation that we were where we were supposed to be, and for this purpose.

We have pending plans to introduce Son to some “firsts”: watch “What Dreams May Come,” play tennis (he announced that he’d just gotten into tennis, which got me very excited because I have yet to try out my new tennis raquet), catch his first movie at the VIP theatre, and see Rebecca. I hope we really do get to do them all.