The Time Share Post.

In that last post I wrote, I referred to buying a time share.

Here is what happened.

I was driving to Detroit to see Joshua Bell, and I called the Hilton hotel to make sure it would be ok for me to check in around 10pm.  I did not want to be denied because of my late check in.  They said that was fine, and then they said “Hey, it is Hilton’s 99th birthday, I’m going to have you talk to this other guy!”

He sounded so excited, so I got excited, too, and said “ok!”  I mean, yay 99th birthday!  Of course I wanted to talk to this other guy!

The other guy was super happy, so that made me super happy and he said that TODAY ONLY I could get 3 nights and 4 days in Orlando PLUS a $100 certificate for park admission IF I BUY IT NOW for only $223.  At ANY of their hotels.  PLUS I could get a $200 voucher for a stay at any of their hotels anywhere.  Clearly, this man had my best interest at heart and wanted me to get the best things.

I told the guy that I went to Disney when I was 5 and I had the chicken pox, and that I really want to go.  He said “You should buy this now, then”.  I said “I literally have zero dollars” and he said “But it’s only today!”  Then he said “You know, I went to Ohio State” and I said “Yay Buckeyes” and he asked if I went there, too, and I said no, I went to NDC. He said he liked Columbus, and I said yes, it can be nice.  Then he said “So how would you like to pay for your Hilton vacation today?” and it caught me off guard so I said “My Visa card?”

And that was that.

Then I got an e-mail telling me I should schedule my vacation and not to forget that I have to attend a two hour meeting about buying a time share.

The Hilton Man tricked me.

Then yesterday I received a phone call, and I never answer my phone, so usually this is not an issue.  But the same phone number had been calling me three times a day, every day, and it was a Florida number.  I answered it.

It was a SUPER FRIENDLY lady!  We bonded and we were happy and excited together and she asked me when I wanted to schedule my Orlando vacation.  I said “Here is the thing, I have no intention of buying a time share.  There is no way that will happen, nothing will talk me into it.  I am not in a position to do it and I really do not like Florida that much, so I kind of feel like I am cheating because I am going there KNOWING I will not purchase a time share.  Ever.”  She said “Oh that’s ok, a lot of people do that. Maybe in ten years you’ll want one and you’ll remember us.”  I said “Oh ok, then, do you have any dates in November?”  I have heard Disney is least crowded the week of Thanksgiving.

Now I am going to Disneyworld November 21st – 24th, by myself.  No one will be there to unattach me from Dug when I meet him.  That means I can potentially be his best friend and live there.

I am NOT going to Harry Potter World because I need a full week and a shit ton of money to do that.  I am not doing that one half assed.

Here is a picture of Jessica, Josh, me and Roger from Lindsey’s wedding.  This picture has nothing to do with the rest of this post.

Wedding

 

 

Am I Too Young To Come Here?

There is this place called Menorah Park, and it is a home for old Jewish people.  I plan on putting my dad there in 20 years when it is time for The Home.  My mom would hate to be stuck in an old people home, so I will probably just set her adrift on an iceberg.  As long as she can play Scrabble on her (my) iPad, she’ll be fine.  Oh, and I will have to make sure her iceberg washes up near a casino every week or so.

Anyway, right next to Menorah Park is a water rehab facility.  I read about it online and they diagnose your issues and come up with a very thorough plan for fixing you.  I want that to happen for my back.  I already know what is wrong with my wrists, and therapy of any kind will not help them, but maybe it will help my back.  I have never had a real diagnosis of why I am in constant pain.  Sometimes I cannot stand up for more than a few minutes at a time, and that is really embarrassing because most things in life require standing for more than a few minutes.  Also, when I walk, the pain gets so intense that sometimes I have to bend over to make it feel better, and then I get stuck like that.  It happened in NYC.  So I thought, maybe I can fix this.

My assumption has always been that this pain came from when I lift a box very incorrectly at Half Price Books – that is when it started for sure.  It has only become worse, which I assumed is because I am fat.  Because I assume fat people are supposed to be in pain as punishment, I have never tried to do anything about it until now.

BUT – again, Menorah Park is an old person place, so I did not know if I could just call and be like “I am less than 90 years of age, will you still take me?”  So instead I e-mailed and asked that.  What I actually said was “I am not sure if I am allowed to come there because I am 39, but I have the back pain of a 90 year old, if that helps.”  They said I can be any age and that is fine and that I should make an appointment.

It is four days a week (consecutive days), for four weeks in a row.  That is more of a commitment than I am comfortable making because I like to be able to back out of things.  I am going to do it, though.  I accidentally bought a time share in DisneyWorld, and I need to be able to walk around without pain.

Oh yeah – that timeshare in DisneyWorld.  I guess that is another blog, eh?  Stay tuned.

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Joshua Bell Night Two – No Cicadas!

Friday was a MUCH better day than Thursday.  First of all, there are no cicadas in Detroit.

I watched a Harry Potter marathon in my hotel until I decided it was not TOO early to go to the Joshua Bell place.  The concert started at 8, and I left at 5.  I was NOT going to screw this one up!

I got a cab and told the guy “There is a Starbucks somewhere near the Detroit Symphony and I need to go to both places” and he said he knew where that was and took me there.  I had NO CLUE where I was, so I asked him to wait while I got my beverage, and I bought him an iced tea.  Then we went to the Max and Marjorie Fisher place, i.e. the Joshua Bell Place, and it turns out it was about ten feet away from Starbucks.  I gave the guy a big tip.

I went in, and because I now knew there were many places to sit, I expected to be able to just waltz in and sit somewhere, drink my iced vanilla latte, and read for the next two hours.  I had to walk through the Fancy Open Area of Fancy People Eating, and to do that, I had to get past an usher.  I was wearing what I always wear, jeans and a black tee shirt, and my hair is currently magenta.  This poor man had no idea what to do with me.  He could NOT grasp the idea that I KNEW I was very early, and I just wanted to sit and read.  Finally he let me in, and I sat and read.  It was nice.

Concert – same as the night before, and Joshua Bell was, if possible, even more perfect.  And I knew.  This time I KNEW.  I left at intermission and went down to the Fancy Open Area of Fancy People Eating, which is where he was signing autographs.

Those of you who know me – I was in my total spazz mode.  Those of you who do not know me, I think I have explained it enough for you get to a general idea.

Here is what transpired.

Darcy – “Hi Joshua Bell”
Joshua Bell – “Hi!…..Hi?”
Darcy – stares intently
Joshua Bell – “I recognize you”
Darcy – “Over the past 25 years this is my 11th time seeing you and I saw you in Akron a few months ago and this is kind of our 11th anniversary and also my hair is very recognizable.”
Joshua Bell – “Wow!  Yes, I knew I recognized you!  Thank you for coming again!”
Darcy – “DO YOU HAVE A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY?”
Joshua Bell – “No, I actually don’t think very visually at all….”
This is where I had about 5 follow up questions but the people in line behind me started shoving their stuff in front of him to sign and I got discombobulated.

Darcy – “I was wondering if you would also sign this blank piece of paper because I want to get your signature tattooed on me”
Joshua Bell – “Whoa, tattooed? Are you sure?  That’s a lot of pressure to write neatly”
Darcy – “Yes, because I have a Green Day tattoo (at this point I pulled down my shirt to show him, essentially flashing Joshua Bell), and I want to get a Hamilton tattoo, and you are among the top three I mean you are the top one and I want to do that.”
Joshua Bell – writing very neatly on the blank piece of paper, and then also going to sign my program….”What is your name?”
Darcy – “Darcy!”
Joshua Bell – “With a Y?”
Darcy – “Yes!  Darcy with a Y!”
Joshua Bell – finishes signing
Darcy – “Joshua Bell do you think ever in your life you will play 503 from Angels and Demons live because I really think you should and I really want to hear that live so much.”
Joshua Bell – “What’s it called?  I played that?  What is it?”
Darcy – “Oh my gosh, it is only 3 minutes long but it is my favorite thing ever it is from Angels and Demons and yes you played it.”
Joshua Bell – “To be honest, I recorded that in one day and I don’t think I have played any of it since – but I’ll go back and listen to it and maybe I will play it”
Darcy – “Please play it it makes me cry and I do not know why because not a lot of things make me cry and maybe next time you come to Akron you can play it.”

Then we said our goodbyes because the people behind me were essentially pushing me along and I died.

But I have SO MANY MORE QUESTIONS.  So many.  I would be a good interviewer of Joshua Bell because I have so many questions.  And he could play 503 and I could cry for reasons I do not understand.  Or he could play anything.  ANYTHING.

I bought a ticket to see him in Chautauqua NY in August and I am already excited and spazzy about that.

Here is what he signed in my program:

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The tattoo signature is neater, but I will not show that until it is actually tattooed on my wrist.

 

Joshua Bell Night One!

On Thursday I made the Great Journey to Detroit, Michigan, to see Joshua Bell for my tenth time.  To relive my love for Joshua Bell, please read this blog.

Things started out in a horrifying manner.  Cicadas.  All over.  My house, my car, my trees.  Everywhere.  Here are my tires.

IMG_3987 IMG_3988Then I got into my car and saw this…..

IMG_3989I decided right then and there that I had to go through the car wash, because if one of those suckers came into my car – I would die.  I would probably take other people out with me, because I would just open the car door and roll out and leave my car driving with the cicadas in it.  It was for everyone’s safety that I got my car washed.

Uneventful trip, no more cicadas, and I got to the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, parked my car and went in.  The place is huge.  It has multiple levels, some sort of open food eating area for fancy people, and all kinds of nonsense.  I had “Dress Circle” tickets.  To me, in all my theatrical experience, that means floor seats.  In Detroit, it means “third floor way up high” seats.  I was still close to the front of what I would refer to as the balcony, but I was far away.  See?

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So naturally, I started rocking.  I hate being up high, I always make a point of buying tickets within the first 5 rows to see Joshua Bell because, as I described in that other blog, this is a huge thing for me.  I was rocking and mildly panicking and ignoring the announcement that said “Soloist Joshua Bell will be signing autographs AT INTERMISSION”.  Not after the concert.  At intermission.  Right over my panicked head.

The concert started with what I would call a cacophony of sound that I did not enjoy.  It was called Dreamwaltzes by the composer Steven Stucky.  I did not like it.  But then came Joshua Bell, and I went into my full trance, and it was amazing.  I stopped rocking, I stopped breathing, I stopped blinking – it was perfect.

Intermission came and went, and again, because I AM STUPID, not only did I miss the announcement about him signing at intermission, I did not look at the program to see that I was about to be subjected to an hour of Joshua Bell-less music.  It was fine music.  There was nothing wrong with it.  I mean, I got bored.  I started getting twitchy.  I did not know why Joshua Bell was not there.  Why would you bother having more of a concert where Joshua Bell WAS there, and then continue WITHOUT HIM?

After the concert, I went right to an usher and said “Where is Joshua Bell?” and she said “Oh honey, he’s long gone, he signed at intermission and left”.  I am notorious for not having facial expressions, but I must have had a pretty significant one, because she then said “I’m so sorry, are you ok?” and I did not say anything, and she said “Do you need something?  Are you alright?” and I said “He is gone?” and she patted me on the shoulder.

Every time I come out of seeing Joshua Bell, I am in such a state that I shake, vibrate, rock, rub my hands together in that annoying way that I do, and I stutter.  But having to sit through an hour of no Joshua Bell made that go away, and then finding out I missed him at intermission made me go “Plunk” right down to the depths of despair.

I had questions I wanted to ask him.  I wanted to get his signature so I can get it tattooed over my wrist surgery scar.  I mean, how inspiring is that?  The wrists that made me stop playing the violin, tattooed with the signature of the person I most admire in basically the world, tattooed OVER THE SCAR FROM THE SURGERY?  I realize I have a LOT of famous people whose work I flip out over, but Joshua Bell has been #1 on that list since I was 14, without wavering.  That is 25 years.

I went back to my hotel and ordered a $35 grilled cheese sandwich from room service and played Rummikub on my phone.

But then, Friday came….stay tuned!

Things I Say When My Blood Sugar Is Low.

Here is what I wanted to title this, but it will not let me do the line through the word in the title:  Things I Say When I Am Drunk Hypoglycemic.02aa91a33f8f48ad80a6c0ed1c785603

Yesterday I went out to dinner with some new coworkers, and when I arrived at the restaurant, my blood sugar was low and I knew it.  This meant I got to drink Coke, which is really amazing because I do not get to do that very often.  So there I am, drinking my Coke and “chatting”, but really, I am not chatting because my blood sugar is low and I cannot really follow any conversation that is happening, and quite frankly, I am not even positive there IS a conversation happening because there is a weird delay in my head and I am clenching my teeth for no reason and my face feels like it is not there anymore.  So…”chatting”.  Someone asked about my tattoos – or maybe I shouted something about my tattoos because that is entirely possible.  I pointed to one and said “This is my Green Day tattoo”, I pointed to another and said “This one means ‘fighting spirit'” and then to another and said “I don’t know what this one means.”  Everyone looked at me and said variations of “how can you not know what it means?” and I kept saying “I don’t know, I just don’t know what it means, isn’t that weird?”

I know damn well what my tattoo means and ironically, it means resilient.  I was not resilient in that moment.

Tonight I went out to dinner with my friend Karyn and her husband Nick, and once again, my face felt like it was not attached, I was clenching my teeth and starting sentences without finishing them – but this time I was not self aware enough to say “Dip shit, your blood sugar is low, STFU.”  So I kept talking.  One of the things I said was “Alex is Australian….wait, no he’s not.”  He is.  Alex absolutely is 100% Australian.  And that was my entire “story” about Alex – that he is Australian.  Somehow I decided I was wrong, and I corrected myself and just stopped.

Many years ago in high school my blood sugar went super low while I was the Chief of Police for the day.  I was doing this cool ass ride along with a police officer, and there was a lunch with the other city employees (i.e. my classmates who were elected as Mayor, etc) and their actual real life counterparts.  My blood sugar went low when we pulled a guy over for speeding.  I knew it was low, and I started eating Lifesavers, but they were not helping.  I ate an entire roll, and nothing.  My blood sugar kept plummeting.  I said some nonsense when the officer got back in the car, and then we went to the lunch where I ordered…iced tea.  A beverage with no sugar in it.  Because here is the thing about being Diabetic and having your blood sugar go low – you will NEVER admit that it is.  I do not know why.  “Darcy, I think your blood sugar is off” “NO IT IS NOT I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I AM DOING.” So iced tea does NOT help low blood sugar, Coke or juice does.  But denial.  So lower and lower it goes until I have no idea where I am, what is happening, I cannot feel my face, my eyes are so blurry I cannot see, I hear voices but cannot understand what they are saying, I am sweating profusely….and I decide now is the time to leave the lunch by myself and call my mom.  The thought to order Coke still did not come into my brain.  I felt my way along the wall until I got to the front desk (the lunch was a hotel restaurant) and I asked where a pay phone was.  Yeah – this was in like, 1993.  I go to the pay phone and call my mom, panicking and crying, saying I do not know where I am and she has to come get me and something is wrong.  We later apologized to the Chief of Police who thought I had a stroke or was in the active throes of death or something.

Often my blood sugar goes low in the middle of the night – 3 or 4am.  I wake up sweating profusely (I am talking pajamas SOAKED), and here is the extra weird thing – my left thigh goes numb.  I lie in bed for a good half hour trying to convince myself my blood sugar is NOT low, and finally I go downstairs and drink a glass of orange juice.  Here is another thing you may not know about low blood sugar – it makes you think you have not eaten in years, and that you are not only capable of eating, but you MUST eat every single thing in sight.  It is not uncommon for a Diabetic to eat 3 bowls of cereal, cookies, orange juice and a banana in a low blood sugar stupor.  I am 99% sure I posted about this before, and I am 99.5% positive I posted these memes before, but I cannot find that post, so here it is again.

51a3ce53a360d965d14e9578f1bbcfb76157a14a96364929336df908cb37473a Diabetes-Memes-Spongebob-2

And it is not just me, obviously.  THERE ARE MEMES.  That means it is true.

All this is to say, if we are ever together and you look at me and I have the appearance of someone who is not sure if they are actually there or not, or I say that Alex is not Australian, or you see me eating multiple bowls of cereal, just gently say “Hey Darcy, why don’t you check your blood sugar?”  Chances are I will just yell at you and tell you I know for my damn self if my blood sugar is low, and you know nothing.  But then also I will drink glorious Coke and become normal again.

Thank you.  Happy Diabetes-ing.