Monday, June 29, 2009

Just Another Manic Monday

Much going on that I don’t know how much to say about. My daughter, Maya, started seeing a therapist last week. I won’t get into why, those are her issues to share, not mine, and this is my blog to be responsible for, not hers. It will probably be a slow process for her, and the therapist is prepared for that by offering board games and the like as they get familiar with each other.

The regular yoga teacher at my gym has been on vacation last week and this week and I was a complete chicken and didn’t go to the sub’s class on Friday, even though I needed it. The teacher who is subbing is young and perfect and completely intimidating. Too young to be experienced, my prejudiced mind tells me.

Having Fridays off over the summer puts me in a bit of a pickle where Lori is concerned. It is one of the three days a week she is allowed to have visitors, and there I am, not at work. Perfect opportunity to go see her, right? Uggh. You have to schedule visits the day before, so I spend all day Thursday thinking, “should I or shouldn’t I?” Then I don’t, and as soon as the scheduling center is closed for the day, I beat myself up for not scheduling an appointment. Then I spend Friday either avoiding thinking about her all together, or telling myself “next week.”

I equate the idea of visiting Lori with the idea of going to a medium to talk to a dead person. Sure, the opportunity is there, but it’s just not the same anymore.

I was completely serious last week when I was ready to pitch everything and move to Detroit. I even emailed a few real estate agents out there. One of them repeatedly. Then on Thursday I emailed her to say never mind, my husband has no sense of adventure and I am obviously crazy. Or something to that effect.

Speaking of crazy, when I was young, pure and self-aware, I diagnosed myself as bipolar. After reading Living Bipolar (found by way of Sarcastic Bastard), I’m beginning to think I was right.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

I Will Not Be Broken

Thursday, June 25, 2009


I meant to write this two days ago, but anyway, I want to introduce you to my beautiful grandmother. She turned 89 on Tuesday. This picture is actually two years old, from Austin’s first birthday party, but it’s just so darn pretty, don’t you think?

My grandma is the best kind of angel. There is no doubting her love for her kids, grandkids, and great grandkids, and we all love her to pieces.

She is the first person I ever heard say the word fuck. She loves a dirty joke.

She never once told me I did something wrong when I ended up pregnant at 18. Everyone else did. That may seem irresponsible on her part, but I needed that so badly at the time, unconditional love.

She says to me “well, bless your heart,” when I do something that she thinks is sweet or touching or generous, and there could be no better compliment than her sweet voice saying that.

She doesn’t like chocolate!? She “puts her face on” everyday even if she’s not leaving the house.

She has an enormous house with pink carpet throughout.

When my mom and I lived with my grandparents while my mom went back to school, my grandmother refused to let me eat lunch even a few minutes before 12 noon. But she’ll feed my kids ice cream at 10 in the morning.

I remember her sitting on the patio crying when her dog died. I remember the day she called to tell me my 25 year-old cousin had been in a terrible accident, and that his parents [her son and his wife] had to make the choice to take him off life support.

I remember when we all found out that another cousin of mine was expecting a baby and she knew already but hadn’t told anyone because it wasn’t her news to tell. [She wanted them to enjoy sharing the good news.]

I love to hear stories about her “mommy” and sisters. She was one of 8 kids, and is the last one still alive.

She has been married to my grandpa for 61 years. Sixty-one years, people. And he is not always the easiest person to live with, god love him.

She always compliments my husband and makes him feel good, even though he doesn’t always fit in so well with the rest of the family.

When I was a kid I was always sure that I was of course her favorite grandkid, but now I think maybe we all felt/feel that way.

Wavin' Flag

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Greener Pastures

Every bit of my heart cries; I hate this. Every morning I leave him in the care of… well, not strangers, but people who are not me. Some days the idea agrees with him, but others, the sound of his wailing and the contorted look on his face strangles me. I want to tell them I’m done, it’s time to quit. I want to be with my baby, not sitting at this fucking computer, pretending to be polite to people I do not understand.

I imagine changing it all. Quitting. Leaving. A whole new life. Maybe somewhere I never expected. Cash out my retirement, and… I don’t know what. We would figure it out. If the apocalypse ever does come, my husband is the one you want by your side, he is that handy with tools and fire and all that. We could certainly handle moving and finding money for food and electricity. Fuck the money, we’ll get solar panels and grow food. Except for the winter.

Why not do it here then? Why does the thought of moving make it more doable? Why this need for flight and reinvention? How could I even consider leaving my parents and grandparents, taking my children away from their grandparents and great grandparents? I know how lucky we are to have family close by, to have support.

Because, as long as we’re here, it is never the right time for me to quit. Wait a year. Wait until the bills are paid off. Wait until… oops, too late, I’m already dead inside.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

If There's Love

Monday, June 22, 2009


The other night I watched this documentary called Surfwise. I was just flipping through the onscreen guide, noticed the title, and was intrigued. The description was something like… A successful Jewish doctor gives up his practice to raise his kids in an RV and surf. Hell yeah! Sign me up. So long, fuckers.

I will probably need to watch it again before I can write about it coherently, but it was nothing short of fascinating. This man, Dorian “Doc” Paskowitz, was the president of the AMA in Hawaii in the 50’s. After two short, failed marriages, he began travelling the world. Convinced that his lack of knowledge about “fucking” was the reason his marriages failed, he set out to fuck 100 women. One woman he met in Israel taught him to “eat pussy,” which “changed his life for the better.” He also taught a bunch of guys to surf while he was there and is basically the father of surfing in Israel.

Anyway, a few months later he finds himself in California, where he meets a Mexican girl, Juliette, and she is The One. They hit the road in their new [used] RV, get pregnant, get married, and surf. Over the next 10 years, Juliette births and breastfeeds nine children, one right after the other. These children sleep together curled up like puppies, never go to school, surf every day, and eat things like raw fish straight out of the ocean, vegetable soup and no sugar.

At this point in the film, we start getting more and more clips of these children, now grown, reflecting on their childhood. Long story short, they are pissed. They all stayed together in the family “rig” until the oldest was 23 or 24. There were no records of their existence, no birth certificates, no school records; college wasn’t an option and jobs were nearly impossible to land.

When the family finally did settle down, they started a surf camp in San Onofre, near San Diego.

As of 2007, relationships were strained, especially between the eldest brother and the rest of the siblings. Most of them are musicians or artists or cooks, things that don’t necessarily require formal education. All of them bemoan the fact that they listened to their parents’ loud lovemaking every night in the small space they shared for so many years.

So this film is a good dose of reality for me when I fantasize about pitching it all and running away. When I first starting watching it, the idea seemed so… romantic. But seeing those kids grown up and fighting so hard to make it in the world, well, it was sobering. I don't mean to be dismissive. Some of this man's ideas and philosophies were goddamn genius. But, like so many geniuses, he is also a loony bird. An 80-something loony bird who lives in Hawaii with his wife who still fucks him every day.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

What the hell happened to two?

Three years ago today I looked my guy in the eyes for the first time. I had already known him for months though, the way my lungs knew the shape of his feet.

Today he leans on my arm, looks at the picture above and says "baby!" The day that photo was taken, I started calling him Tomato Head. It was a perfectly round head that turned a deep red when he cried.

Now he is my Chunky Monkey. A solid 57 pounds [a lot for a 3 year old. A three-year-old!]

He smiles at me and tips his head, blue eyes sparkling, when I'm trying to scold him, which I never manage to do very well.

He loves to sing Old MacDonald Had a Farm. He LOVES dogs. He drinks water like he's been stranded in a desert and eats fruit until his butt is raw from diarrhea. He picks tomatoes and lemons before they are ripe and makes me and his daddy CRAZY doing that.

He says apple when he means popsicle.

His favorite word right now is another. As in... Can I have another shoe? Can I have another bread?

Every morning, when we get to school, he says "hep me, I stuck," when he wants me to unfasten his seatbelt. He doesn't say the N in thank you.

He is the coolest little boy in the whole wide world. I cannot imagine our family or my life without him.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

We call him Davy

Check out my giant squid. ;)

I ordered it from Adrienne's shop reGENERATION lab. I loved the way it was packaged, but Austin found it and opened it before I got a picture. :(

Austin hugged it like a baby, and then we all took turns doing Davy Jones impressions. "Jack Sparrow!"

The felt has an amazing feel to it. And I just love his eyes.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The Colors!!!

I wish I hadn’t taken my camera out of my purse. I don’t have it with me today, so you will just have to take my word for it that it is gorgeous outside.

After three solid weeks June Gloom up and left us today without even leaving a note. There are patchy white clouds and a bright blue sky and the sunshine has a special warmth about it. I went up on the roof to take it all in. The sunlight shining off of the leaves of the trees. The brown rolling hills and distant mountain peaks. Rooftops of every size and make. The colors seem so rich after so many days of gray. It is glorious.

Death Cab

And the silence, it became so very clear
That you had long ago disappeared
I cursed myself for being surprised
That this didn't play like it did in my mind


Then it started getting dark
And I trudged back to where the car was parked
No closer to any kind of truth
As I must assume was the case with you

Monday, June 15, 2009

What's in a Meme?

Well, looky me, I done got tagged...

What is your current obsession?

What is your weirdest obsession?
I couldn't possibly narrow it down to just one.

Recall a fond childhood memory.
Exploring in my grandparents' backyard, orange tree, flowers, playing with pill bugs, the way moist dirt is cool.

What's for dinner?
Tacos w/leftover chicken

What would you eat for your last meal?
Either cheese pizza from Costco or the tortilla/peanut butter/honey wrap I eat every morning. God, I'm boring.

What's the last thing you bought?
$5 footlong from Subway

What are you listening to right now?
tap tap tap of the keyboard, my office is as lively as a morgue, but I have one earbud in playing Dan Zanes. Seriously.

What do you think of the person who tagged you?
Well, she reads Bless our Hearts, so you know she's good people :)

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Trick question, I already have that, sort of. My parents own the house, and it's in California. Crap I sound spoiled.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
San Diego Zoo

Which language do you want to learn?

What's your favorite quote (for now)?
Probably something Maya Angelou said.

What is your favorite colour?
If I wear it, black, otherwise white (car, dishes, towels, etc.) or green. Or blue.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
I have these stretchy drawstring pants that probably look horrible on my lumpy ass, but they work for everything.

What is your dream job?
Any job where I can surf the web or get up and take a walk whenever I feel like it. Oh, hey, I have the perfect job! But it would be pretty cool to work at the zoo.

What's your favourite magazine?

If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
I assume you don't mean groceries. My answer is still groceries.

Describe your personal style?
Let's just say I have to do at least one load of laundry a week that is all black.

What are you going to do after this?
go pee... too much tea today.

What are your favourite films?
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas; Kung Fu Panda; Chocolat; Swingers; Bubble Boy; The Road to Wellville

What's your favourite fruit?
Bananas, I literally cannot go more than a day without one.

What inspires you?

Your favourite books?
Usually memoirs and some spiritual self-help type stuff

Do you collect anything?
Pyrex casserole dishes in Blue Horizon and Verde Square Flowers; those cotton Indian bedspread/tapestry things; silver jewelry

Any advice that’s come from bitter experience?
Keeping All This Trouble's answer here, even though I'm not totally sure I've learned it... If you think it absolutely can't wait, it should.

What makes you follow a blog?
If it makes me laugh or think I'm hooked.


The rules (revised): 1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your invention, add one more question of your own. 2. Tag eight four other people.

I hereby tag Adrienne, Bobbie, Frances, and Ms. Lemon

Now we move into reclining butterfly

So I sorta fell off the face of the internet over the weekend. Yoga was amazing on Friday. I can’t figure out why I ever quit. There I am in a room full of people, listening to an instructor, but I still manage to feel like I am by myself. And lord knows I need that these days. I’m starting to feel a little unhinged again. But yoga makes me peaceful.

I wish I could elaborate more on the benefits of yoga, but the words aren’t with me today. I’m not sleeping well these days. There are changes afoot at work, but you know the rule, don’t blog about your job*.

The doctor is dicking around with my husband’s medication again. [He has RA.] He’s in a great deal of pain, doesn’t sleep well at night, and has trouble acting like a human during the day. I’m not trying to trash talk him, and I don’t want to make him angry by writing this. It just is what it is.


* Speaking of Dooce, she had her baby this weekend!

Time is a Lion

Friday, June 12, 2009

I should be sleeping in

Today is my first Friday off from work while we do 4/10s over the summer. I was so freaking stressed out about the 10 hour days before we started. I can barely stand to be at work 8 hours as it is, 2 more seemed like a torture worse than waterboarding. But so far I've survived. And now I have today to go to yoga! My gym only offers yoga Monday, Wednesday and Friday, midday. WTF? Right? We live near a retirment community. Those old ladies can go whenever they like, and they don't like getting out on the weekend.

So, yoga, and then my only other goal for the day is to get over to my grandparent's house. It's been a couple weeks since I've seen them. I've been dreaming about my grandpa a little lately, and everytime I do, I wonder if today will be the day I get The Call. He's not ill or anything, just 90 and tired and sore all the time. I don't know why I worry that he will be gone soon. He still drives, still gripes about teenagers and slackers in general. He's a cranky old fart but I love him.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Le Saintes Maries de la Mer

This Flickr set is knocking my socks off.

Saint Sarah on Wikipedia.

Origins of the Romani People (Gypsies):

Linguistic and genetic evidence indicates the Romanies originated from the Indian subcontinent, emigrating from India towards the northwest no earlier than the 11th century. The Romani are generally believed to have originated in central India, possibly in the modern Indian state of Rajasthan, migrating to northwest India (the Punjab region) around 250 B.C.

It is my humble opinion that everything truly interesting in the world came out of India. Did you know that the concept of zero originated in India, thereby making math possible?

World Without Tears

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Enlighten me

Why couldn’t the vacuum clean the couch? Because it had no attachments.

I have been unofficially and independently studying Buddhism for some time now. Two years maybe? I couldn’t really tell you why I’m drawn to it, maybe because it’s pretty hard to pin down. Some Buddhists are Hindus, some are atheists, some idolize the Buddha, some forswear idolization. But one theme you find over and over again in Buddhism is detachment.

The second of the Four Noble Truths reads something along the lines of:

Suffering is caused by craving or attachments to worldly pleasures of all kinds. This is often expressed as a deluded clinging to a certain sense of existence, to selfhood, or to the things or phenomena that we consider the cause of happiness or unhappiness.

And unless I misunderstand, this ideal also applies to attachment to people. That is, you should strive to live with less attachment, even attachment to people. At this point, my brain says “Buddhists are stupid.” Not the most mature response, I’ll admit.

There is a passage in Jack Kerouac’s Wake Up: A Life of the Buddha where he explains that part of the reason the prince Siddhattha left his palace and royal lifestyle and would not return was that he knew someday his father would die. And that he should not fool himself to think that his father would be there forever. To which I say, uh... no kidding. But wait a minute. We will take as a given that life as we know it ultimately leads to suffering. We can even take as a given that the cessation of suffering is found in release from the delusion of the permanence of physical things. But why, why, should that mean we shouldn’t be attached while we can? Doesn’t impermanence make that attachment all the more precious?

Or am I totally missing the mark? Is this ideal of detachment meant to help you let go when you have to? Is the idea to be attached, or if not attached at least involved, until for whatever reason you can no longer be, and then by acknowledging and accepting the impermanence of physical things, release yourself from suffering? But if that is indeed the ideal, why would Siddhartha leave his father before he died? Not to mention his wife. Is it really impossible to sustain both attachment and enlightenment?

Granted, attachment, and life in general, can make enlightenment pretty freaking hard to achieve. Especially when someone needs to figure out what the kids are going to eat for dinner, and how to pay the car insurance, and are the dishes in the dishwasher clean or not? But do we have to give up attachment to find enlightenment? If so, I’m screwed. At least this time around.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

It's always the mom's fault

I cried in therapy for the first time yesterday. I think that is interesting. I cry fairly easily out in the real world. Crying is how my frustration most often manifests itself. But in therapy, where I talk about some of the things that make me feel the most vulnerable, I hadn’t cried yet. Not even when I talked about Lori. Or my dad. And I have cried about those two plenty, when I’m alone.

I cried because Austin's breath has been labored and interrupted for the last few nights, but only when he’s asleep. I lay awake listening to him and get very stressed out and worried. I spoke to a nurse at the doctor’s office who said he might need his adenoids removed. We’ve already been down that road with Maya. To date, she’s had four minor surgeries that required general anesthesia as well as dental work that required general anesthesia twice. And it scares the shit out of me every freaking time.

So this morning we went to the doctor and talked about the fact that he’s had a cough the past week or so (but no nasal congestion), and that obstructive sleep apnea is normal when a person has a cold. And that even if the apnea was a long-term condition, they wouldn’t even consider surgery unless he lost some weight. If I hadn’t already known this doctor for years and loved him dearly, I would have been pissed. My baby, he is struggling to BREATHE. That shit ain’t right. What do I doooo??? Now!

His breathing was actually considerably better last night, probably because he’s getting over this virus or whatever it is. I had considered cancelling the doctor appointment because his breathing was better, but the hubs said that it’s better to know.

So now it’s my fault that he’s fat, because I spoil him, at least according to the hubs. And he's right. Ah, food issues, now the circle is complete.

Sister Lost Soul

I don't know how I spent 31 years on this planet before I heard of this man.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Photo Essay: Living Space

This didn't start out to be a photo essay; I was just going to take a picture of that little blue curtain thingy there that I'm so damn proud of, but once I got started I couldn't control myself.

That big blank wall in the dining "room" used to have a bookcase on it, but that got moved to the kids' room for storage and the wall remains bare because I am DETERMINED to hang some cupboards on that wall in some lifetime when I have money.

Anyway, the curtain, right... behind that dark blue curtain thing is a postage stamp sized hallway with a small bathroom on the left, the kids' room straight ahead, and mommy and daddy's room on the right. Maya and I kept finding ourselves going through that hallway after our showers wearing little more than nothing when surprise! There was someone in the living room. Yeah. So I started looking for norens, which are these cool Japanese curtains meant to cover doorways, but they cost $$$. I already had these sarong sized Indian cotton things, so I just bought a $3 tension rod and used a quick running stitch to make a rod pocket and voila! Privacy!

Turning right, you will find the only thing of monetary value in our house, the LCD TV... 'tis a thing of beauty, that. The photo above is what I like to think of as the "before" shot for when we get our act together and put all those electronic eyesores into a cabinet of some kind. Also pictured above are Maya's legs. She is one of only two females I'm related to whose legs "go all the way up."

And lest you think I have nothing hanging on my walls, I give you the piano wall. Note the crooked wedding photo. Just left of frame you would find the front door. The door on the right here goes to my mother-in-law's bedroom. We gave my in-laws the master bed and bath when they moved in. My late father-in-law is pictured there to the left of the flag. He served in the Korean War and had a military funeral back in October of last year.

Moving on to the right, you have my messy kitchen. We need more storage in there. The laundry is just off the kitchen on the right side.

Turning right yet again, you'll find the kitchen window. I had the hubs hang the shelves that run across the window between the cupboards because the cupboards looked so stupid, just stuck up there not attached to anything. Note the fresh fruit... and power tools. Have I ever told you that we don't have a garage? Yeah.

Intentionally omitted were photos of the dining and living room windows, because I HATE my fucking curtains, and the bar that separates the kitchen sink from the dining room, because oh my god, we need to clean that crap up.


This is my second post today, so don't miss the dogs. Scroll down for more pics!

Photo Essay: These are the Dogs of our Lives

This here is Wayne. He owns the people who are visiting us this month. Ahem, sorry.

Not until I took the photo above did I realize how much Wayne looks like Scooby Doo. Anyway, Wayne has found himself a girlfriend at our house.

That's right, none other than our beautiful Bella, the newest addition to our fam. This has proven to be quite the bone of contention for poor Billy the Shit.

You see, Billy the Shi Tzu here has spent weeks warming up to Bella and now here comes this big stud who still has his balls for crissakes.

Callie, our blondy here has found herself quite drawn to Wayne as well. She's always been our wild one and something of a ho bag.

This is what Callie usually looks like. That bitch can run, I tell you.

Callie's antics have really irked Dusty the Beast. The photo above does little to illustrate Dusty's massive frame. I think he might be part bear.

Here's my very-nearly three year-old trying to mount Dusty like a horse. That still two year-old weighs no less than 57 pounds, mind you. About the size of your average five year-old.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Current population: 10 people, 5 dogs, 3 cats, innumerable rabbits, birds and frogs

We have houseguests! Well, more like backyard guests. They are staying in the camping trailer. They brought their dog so we had yet another round of introductions and barking and sniffing, and, you know, doggy stuff. The people are my husband's oldest sister and her husband down from Washington. They are here to see his father whose health is failing.

My mom will be having her own houseguests pretty soon here, her sister-in-law and then later, my cousin and her baby. So if you hear on the news that California fell off into the ocean, it's because we overloaded this particular piece of ground and exceeded the weight limit of the earth.

Friday, June 5, 2009

I am such a loser

11-Year-Old Graduates From LA College

I've been attending community colleges off and on since 1995 and still haven't finished.


Okay, well here you go... CEOs Without College Degrees


This song has been with me a lot the last few months.

"Heaven" by Brett Dennen

Beyond the rules of religion
The cloth of conviction
Above all the competition
Where fact and fiction meet

There's no color lines cast or classes
There's no fooling the masses
Whatever faith you practice
Whatever you believe

Oh, Heaven, Heaven
What the hell is Heaven?
Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Throw away your misconceptions
There's no walls around Heaven
There's no codes you gotta know to get in
No minutemen or border patrol

You must lose your earthly possessions
Leave behind your weapons
You can't buy your salvation
And there is no pot of gold

Mmm Heaven, Heaven
What the hell is Heaven?
Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Heaven aint got no prisons
No government, no business
No banks or politicians
No armies and no police

Castles and cathedrals crumble
Pyramids and pipelines tumble
The failure keeps you humble
And leads us closer to peace

Oh, Heaven, Heaven
What the hell is Heaven?
Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Thursday, June 4, 2009

I'm hearing voices

I’m getting the baby fever again, and I need someone to talk me down. My house is TOO FULL and my wallet TOO EMPTY. I blame my hormones. My reproductive parts know what they are made for, and they talk to me, they whisper in my ear. Babies are cute they say. Big families are beautiful, warm things they say. Every person we add to our family multiplies its beauty and warmth ten-fold.

BUT. And there’s always a but. I am already half-crazy from stress. We are filing for bankruptcy. The two children I have already share a room and WE ARE NOT MOVING. My mother, while retired, has her own life and my husband is disabled. And oh my god, childcare is expensive!

Phooey, my ovaries say. All things fall into place. It always works out, somehow.

Yeah, until it doesn’t.

So here I am trying to be my own voice of reason. Please help me out. Remind me about sleepless nights (more so than I already have), the cost of food and clothes and diapers and car seats AND AND AND…

Remind me that I am trying to get healthy. Remind me that my two previous c-sections make me an all but sure bet for another. Remind me about post-baby bleeding, and bleeding, and more bleeding. Remind me about the heartbreak of returning to work while your 3 month old cries.

Please, talk me down.


I blame her.

Hands of Time

All In My Head

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Accident Prone

My sainted mother was taking out some trash on Monday and rolled her ankle on her gravel driveway. She landed with her knee on a pointy rock. [OUCH is right!] It didn’t put a hole in her jeans, but it did put a hole in her knee, a good enough hole to require stitches. The urgent care people x-rayed her ankle but not her knee!? I’m thinking it may actually need an MRI or something because she is so stiff and sore that the damage is probably tissue related [duh].

Anyway, I was SICK TO DEATH of her getting all the attention, so I gave my finger a good slice last night when I was cutting onions for dinner. Now, I’m not usually squeamish, but it was hot in the kitchen and I was hungry, and the site of that blood oozing and not stopping made me woozy enough to know I had to sit down, pronto. The hubs confiscated my knife and took over and the kids and dogs got all up in my grill to see what was going on. Long story short, I’m fine, but my mom is still using a cane.

I can tell she’s a little worried about what the fall means. See, she just turned 60 a couple months ago, and her older sister has developed quite a habit of eating shit and banging herself up good. I can see her mind thinking of that when I ask her how she’s doing.

What she doesn’t realize is that she can’t get old and fall apart. I won’t let her. I need her too much.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Calgon, take me away!

Ah, the wisdom of Yahoo! Check out my horoscope for today:

A balanced life is easy -- if you want to be social, be social. If you don't, don't.

Well there you go, easy-peasy. Who needs therapy? Just do what you feel like at the time and it will all work out fine. Hay, I want to quit my job, Yahoo! Good idea, huh?

What’s that line from 30 Rock? I’m being a “C-word.” You know, a cranky-sue. Yesterday afternoon and this morning found my mommy life in conflict with my professional life and guess which one I would just as soon kick to the curb. But alas, there are bills to pay and children to feed. And yes, yes, I am grateful to have a job. Great, great, great. Lucky me. Never mind that my soul is dead.

I need a vacation. Or an orgasm. Or a drink. Should we put it to a vote? Which would do Miss Stephanie the most good?

Monday, June 1, 2009

Happy June 1st!

Okay, maybe you don’t give a rat’s ass about June 1st, but it’s one of those days in my life for some reason. Two years ago today I started my first blog. Not this one, mind you, my first. I have tended to be a bit of a moving target when it comes to blogs. This is my fifth or sixth, I don’t care enough right this second to figure it out for sure.

Three years ago today was the first day of my maternity leave before Austin was born, and the first day the school used the term MR to define my daughter Maya. [Technically, that's not a something I celebrate.]

Five years ago today we moved into our house. A house that I hope to live in until I cannot due to either physical ailment or death. It’s not big and it’s not fancy, it’s just right. We’ve actually lived on the property for 12 years, but spent the first seven years (minus one) in an itty-bitty single wide mobile home that was parked inside of a barn. THAT is a post for another day.

Anyway, June 1st! How ‘bout some chunky monkey to celebrate?

If you have good eyes, you might catch some baby butt-crack.