I’m voting for the Chocolate Party

Yesterday started with very little sleep. I got home late on Friday and then had an 8 AM appointment for my infusion. I am supposed to get them every 8 weeks and missed a few. This was due to and reinforced a vicious anxiety cycle. The longer I waited the more anxiety I had about making the appointment. I have zero anxiety about the actual procedure. No medical procedure gives me anxiety. I finally overcame the anxiety and made the appointment. So, what happens when I get there? I found there were issues related to me waiting so long; exactly what I was anxious about. They had to call my doctor. The nurse told me to expect to be scolded by my physician. I actually like the nurse quite a bit which helped with the anxiety. I think the reason I like him is partly due to the fact that he reminds me of George the WFUV news director and I love George. Good thing I was the first appointment of the day. Even though I hate getting up early I might make my future appointments early, even with the delay I got out of there much faster than usual. There are always long waits getting infusions of biologics. They don’t prepare them until you get there. Don’t worry about my health. This is purely prophylactic for my Crohn’s disease. I don’t have something life-threatening.

Last night I went to Skyler’s and Shirley’s annual Chocolate Party. This is an important religious holiday for me; My religion on FB is listed as Theobromic, it really should be Theobromic (Orthodox). Technically it’s a Chocolate and Vanilla party but because I’m Orthodox I don’t recognize the vanilla aspect. I’m open minded and don’t mind of others celebrate the holiday in their own way. I only hold myself to my standards.

Just as I make a pilgrimage to Connecticut for my annual Seder I make the pilgrimage to New Jersey for the Chocolate Party. I take the train to New Brunswick, let Skyler know when my train is due to arrive, and he sends someone to pick me up. The party starts at 6 and my train got in at 5:46, perfect. I texted Skyler as soon as my train emerged from the tunnel to let him know my ETA. He didn’t acknowledge it, but I figured he was busy. I got worried when I was one station away and he still didn’t tell me the pick-up arrangement. I texted and called and got voicemail. I tried again when I arrive to no avail. And then again, and again. I was getting worried. Then I texted Scott, I know Skyler because he’s in Scott’s band. Turns out he wasn’t at the party, but he texted Skyler and Skyler got back to him. Then Skyler called me. He never got any of my texts or calls. Missed connections is one of my long-standing anxiety triggers. I love cell phones as they have for the most part eliminated them. After I got to the party we figured out what happened. Skyler had accidentally blocked me. Perhaps a spammer had spoofed my number and he blocked it. I once blocked one of my best friends and had no idea how it happened. Whatever it was, I’m unblocked now. I had no anxiety that Skyler did it deliberately. With some people I might but not him. It was inconceivable and unlike Vizzini I know what the word means.

The only one I knew at the party other than Skyler was Chris. I had no idea that Chris would be there. There was no room at his table. That’s OK, I had tons and tons of amazing chocolate. My favorite is Willy Wonka’s Chocolate River. That’s what Skyler calls his cinnamon caramel sipping hot chocolate. It is amazingly rich and thick. After filling my plate to the brim with a huge variety of chocolate dishes I had to find a place to sit. This can be awkward for me. I deliberately sit with strangers at NERFA and introduce myself and I did it here. I found a table with a couple with a young child. I’m always more comfortable with children. I quickly introduced myself to the husband. The wife, said, “What’s your name?” I told her and she said, Fruhead Gordon? We know each other. It was Amanda I haven’t seen her in almost exactly 18 years, when Moxy Fruvous had their last show in Toronto. We were never close, but I always liked her. Back then she was a college student, so the ensuing 18 years was a much bigger fraction of her life than for me. I’m using that as my excuse for not recognizing her. There were also three Fruhead Amandae and I always found that somewhat confusing. She was the one I knew the best, the only one whose last name I remember.

I ended up having a lot of fun catching up with her and her husband Jeff. She’s still an intelligent fun person and so is Jeff. They’ve known each other since college but I never met him back in the day. He was not a traveling Fruhead. You had to be there. It was a way of life.

As they were heading out I checked train times and saw there was a train in 15 minutes and the next an hour later. I asked Chris for a ride to the station and he’s a mensch and took me. There was a bit of traffic and the timing was close. I got to the station with a minute to spare. I went to enter the station. It was locked. The guy cleaning up inside pointed to where I had to go. It was an elevator. The elevator took forever. I missed the train by seconds as did the people that shared the elevator with me and some people on the platform that had trouble with the ticket machines. Ugh. Now I had to kill an hour. It was cold, feels like in the teens. I found a non-chain fast food restaurant open. I missed the dinner portion of the party, so I ordered something and waited there. I caught the next train; it was on time. I had no waits for the two subways I needed from Penn Station, but it was still late when I got home.

I didn’t have a great night sleep. My tummy was not happy with how full it was, and someone started blasting music at 4:37 AM. I thought they were in a car driving by, but they weren’t. It was neighbors across the street. It was as loud as I’d listen to music from my own stereo even through my closed window and curtains. When I woke up it felt late. It wasn’t, 8:30; I had less than eight hours sleep, less than seven, but it must have been higher quality than usual. I don’t know why as I had trouble breathing. My tiny nasal passage, in my huge nose, and allergies always make breathing difficult but last night was particularly bad.

I didn’t write about music today, though there were references to two bands. I did meet my RDA of food, chocolate, anxiety and commuting. My guess is not many blogs focus so much on that combination.