Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Addictions and flights of fancy

Mr. Housewife has discovered a new show.
The Deadliest Catch, on Discovery channel.
It is compelling.
It reminds me of home.
Yes, it's set in Alaska, but close enough.
It reminded me of why I'm different from people raised in Utah--
and not just the weirdo religious stuff.
I have this in my genes.
This toughness, this ruggedness, hard work.
Oh, I've gotten soft, but I feel it there.
The power of the ocean has always been something I've had a confusing relationship with.
I am afraid of so little--snakes, getting fat--and I love the ocean so much, but...
I feel its harsh strength, its uncaring, unknowing power.
It is vast and unsympathetic.
When I'm on the ocean, on a small craft, I can easily get freaked out thinking about the sharks and whales and octopi (sp?).
Not to mention the waves and the wind, working together, an unwitting duo.

I imagined, the other night, grabbing the front of a shirt while kneeling in a lap,
pulling a mouth to mine.

It has been cold here.
I have things to do.
Must go to school tomorrow, and turn in a photographer request for my show on Friday.
Must register little ones for a couple of weeks of half-day day camp stuff.
Must not forget to...shit. I forgot already.
Ain't that just a pissah?

I am hungry.
But not for food.
I am.

I am in love with the captain of the crab boat Rollo.
Eric, is his name.
Not sure what he's doing on a boat.
But maybe I can volunteer to be the ship's cook.
Or slut.
Such an ugly word, "slut."
Unless whispered with urgency and proper accompanying adjectives,
on the downstroke.

good night.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Long weekends are like...

long kisses.

Or something.
Anyway, it would appear that Whitey is back in blogging action,
and if you enjoy well-crafted words you would be wise to add him to your daily rotation.
Besides...he's working as a porn store clerk these days, and THAT'S some good story time!

I bought an exercise ball today.
I’m only telling you because, for some reason, that sounds dirty.
It doesn’t really make sense, but there’s something about rolling around on the floor and focusing on balls that makes me smile and nod.

Oh, speaking of balls...
my newly straight friend sat me down to ask me some questions about sex the other night.
She opened with, "So...balls. What are they FOR, exactly??"
She couldn’t have found a better girl to ask!
As I went through my favorite ways to er...use? them,
she kept saying, "really?" and I would have to describe her voice as incredulous. She seemed game, but who knows.
It’s a big step for a lesbian.

I didn't have much to say, but I felt the need to post.

One of my good friends from high school is staying with my uncle and his wife, which is both more and less strange than it sounds.
Small towns are kinda like that, but it is still odd.
She is going to rent one of their many apartments from them, but it's not ready yet.
I'm not sure how that resulted in her staying with them, and she didn't answer when I called.
Oh well.

Why am I still sitting in here, when The Aristocrats is scheduled to be played in the Anderson Theater as soon as I step out of my office and into it??
Cuz I'm an addict, I guess...
Oh well.
Mr. husband got some cool household crap down today.
He finally hung the giant mirror we bought for our front room almost a year ago...
and then hung the normal-sized full-length mirror in our bedroom.
AND put up some black-out blinds so we can fully enjoy our new tv situation during the day.

I'm hungry.
Will get a snack, and then watch the film.
Will report on its hilarity tomorrow.
will continue starting sentences with "will".
Will not...

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Isn't it ironic?

Don't ya think?
We've had record heat for the past two weeks,
and the day the pool opens it is overcast and cold-as-hell.
It's crazy.

who needs to go outside when you have a freshly installed
surround sound
100-inch screen
triple LCD projector
home theater?
I'm seriously still convulsing from the multiples I had for the entire
Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Rings.
It is orgasmic.
So that was last night.
The colors are so vibrant and the sound penetrates (heh-heh) to the bone (ha).
It has a line in for his laptop.
So, of course, he got a wireless keyboard and...
has spent the morning playing World of Warcraft on it.
Mixed blessing there--haha.

so last night while he and his brother were installing everything,
I strapped on the mp3 player and jumped on the trampoline again.
It is so therapeutic, I can't even tell you.
Meditative, truly.
So I jumped and grooved and watched the subdued sunset be replaced, inch by inch,
by a very patient thunderstorm.
It lay heavily over what looked like my immediate neighborhood only,
and soon the only light was glowing up from the distant foothills, where the city begins to spread thin as it licks up the mountain.
I was waiting for the rain.
I was begging for the rain.
I wanted it to plaster my white tank top to my body and my black hair to my neck.
Stubborn old rain cloud.
I was facing east, turning around and around, but always returning to east.
It's the best view of mountains, but when I realized it was east,
I felt a surge of home.
And then a track come on, unexpectedly, and I flopped to my back.
Staring up at the sky, I could see my chest rising and falling just under my knees.
And my ears were filled with sounds I'd forgotten.
No...not forgotten, just...had been missing.
And then it passed, and I stood up and jumped again, but slower this time.
And still smiling.

I am thinking our dinner-and-a-movie plans for tonight will be exchanged for dinner-out-and-movie-in plans.
Although...I really want to see X-Men 3.
Like...REALLY want to see it.
God damn, I love the X-men and women.

Happy weekend to y'all.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Shivers and almost-tears and soaring spirits...

I know, you're all sick of hearing about Live.
Their single, "The River," the one getting radio play right now?
I hadn't actually heard it before the concert,
and I liked it so I downloaded it and have been listening today.
See, me and music, we need to become intimately acquainted before I generally feel anything more than "yeah. cool." or "eh. not so much."
See my title.
I've been listening to it on repeat all day.
EVERY time I hear the opening lines my arms go all goose bumpy and the hair stands up on the back of my neck...
And it really feels like a river is ripping through my insides.
Or strong fingers, grabbing at the wispiest parts of me...
draw ragged breaths, and I want to cry.
and my life flashes before me
I doubt everything.
Am I really meant to live the american dream-life?
the one with so much goodness and comfort and perfection that I forget how to dream, how to experience feelings so hard that I can't tell if it's pain or pleasure?
Does there have to be a choice?
I guess not.
Can anyone really live a whole life with raw nerve endings exposed constantly?
Could I survive a life like that?
No...I don't think so.
but I also don't think I will be whole without allowing myself those peaks and valleys.
A plateau still gets monotonous, even if it's a very, very high one.
I'm not even one speck less happy than I have been, I just...
The way that song affected me reminded me, rather sharply, that I haven't FELT a song so thoroughly for a long time.
Or maybe it just seems that way.
Sometimes I have a shitty memory... (insert sheepish and slightly sexy smile here...)
I dunno.

Of course, the other reason I keep skipping back to this track is that the following track is called, "Home".
And it is striking a particularly tender chord with me this week.
Why did I have to hear this song for the first time this week?
I can't listen to it without crying 3 kinds of tears.
and that's a little inconvenient at the gym.
It's a song about the war, and I know, I know--
every band has done one of those by now, but.
you know.
But then if I skip that one, it goes to "Beauty of Grey", and that's just...
My tongue lies dormant as I wander, lost, in the maze of my half-thunk-thought cluttered head today.
It's like a hedge maze...
only instead of leaves there are clusters of words, out of sequence.
Instead of fluttering in the breeze they are scrambling to evade my grasp...

I want to sit silently and let my thoughts all relax back into their natural order,
which was tenuous at best--
held gently together by a frayed thread, but it worked...

I guess I had some...
stuff on my mind, eh?
That was cathartic.
Or possibly something less dramatic. heh.
I don't usually get quite so personal on here...sorry for the outburst.
I do prefer to keep it vague--
partly to keep from being unjustly judged, and partly to keep from feeling
I guess that's a bit of a problem.
Now, to delete or not to delete?
I am SUCH a writer.
Like, an egotistical one.
Can't stand the thought of deleting MY words, I mean MY GOD, they're FUCKING BRILLIANT!!!
Stupid ass.
Ok, me and my big pink eraser are going to crawl through this post and delete that chunk in the middle.
Let's just say I stumbled upon something that's been bothering me and I shall deal with it appropriately.
Or, more likely, I'll just snuggle into my husband's side tonight when he gets home
and let it all melt away
and let his love fill me
and take deep breaths
and let it be enough.
Stop needing so much...

Yeah...that makes me smile.

Off to

Beer plus rock equals...

I'm way too old for this.
On a weeknight, no less.
They were good, though.

And thanks to Maine I am now watching the part of the American Idol final where Chris Daughtry sings with Live.
Thanks, man...

I thought I had something to say.
But I don't.

I did, however, figure out why I feel like I have brain damage lately.
It's my kids.
Yes...yes...I'm blaming them, hold on.
It's because they ask me...at least 200 questions per day, each.
I'm not kidding.
I counted once.
And every time I begin a train of thought, without fail, one of them interupts me.
Now, don't get me wrong:
I love answering their questions, and I love that they ask them.
It is very jarring and bad for the mental process to have so many half-thunk thoughts lying around in my awareness.
I'm going to try to stop thinking, whenever the kids are around.
And hey, just so you know I'm not a whiner, they don't ask just normal questions.
Oh no.
It's not just "can I watch tv?" or "can I have a snack?"
It's more like..."what does 'eventually' mean?" or "what happens if the light never turns green?" or "but why haven't they invented jet packs yet?"
Or worse.
The point is, it's my fault...
I answer every question so thoroughly and so accurately that they expect no less.
I'm stuck, quiz show is my life from now on.
but at least I'm not dying of a brain issue of some sort.
It's just mental clutter.
I'll start meditating again and it'll sort itself out.


Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Happy Hump Day...

it's a beautiful day.
Perfect for humping, if you're into that sorta thing.

I spent about an hour on my trampoline last night.
Dancing's not so easy on a trampoline, fyi.
Had my i(mposter)pod strapped on with all the great new music you folks recommended for me.
I have 'em all.
I couldn't very well stop to look at the song titles, and I sure as hell can't read while bouncing, so I'm not sure which ones were my favorites yet.
But there was one about flying.
I'll have to figure out which one that was.
Oh, Fairy princess? Something about you're a fairy princess and you and me don't need wings to fly...
I wanted to fly.
I have always wanted to, and bouncing and bouncing...
I felt like I could.
I ended it all by switching to Sofia, my current favorite Live song.
The way he growls out "rain" made me actually attempt flight.
I failed, but on a trampline, no one gets hurt!

Time for the gym.
And tonight I'm going to see a local band that my friends love.
Should be gooood.

I'm now late for my appointment.
I think I'll go.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Cleverness has flown north for the summer

Or at least it has been associating with some odd ducks.
Or some strange fucks.
Or some hard lucks...?
Nah, make that hard fucks.
AAaaahhh...much better.

I had an epiphany last night.
I think I need to jumpstart my brain using...
now, don't freak out--
hip hop.
Or whatever the kids are calling it these days.
Some black-eyed peas, or something.
Something totally outside my realm of comfort.
I mean, hell, if my 5 year old can say, "Oh snap!"
I suppose I can listen to some...crap.
I usually like it ok when it's playing.
I just don't find it very...thought-provoking.
And my thoughts seem awfully over-provoked at the moment.
Or unprovokable.
Or revoked, perhaps.
So maybe that's the answer.
The problem, of course, is that I would rather just go buy some of the CDs I used to have...
I love music I know.
It warms me from the under-side of my skin, and sometimes it sends me to places I can't reach any other way.
I'll probably forget all about it before I get around to doing anything about it.
After all...
it was only an epiphany.

So I was prowling around Classmates dot com recently,
and sent a little message to my first boyfriend.
I won't bother with the details right now, but the gist is this:
first kiss
first date
(switch the order of that, would ya? thanks.)
first boyfriend
first love
first fiance
first...crushing death of my heart, my hopes, my dreams...
we were together for 2.5 years, which is an enternity for teenagers, n'est ce pas?
He joined the Marine corps,
and was living in DC;
a year later I went to byu, in utah.
At that point, we decided I should date other people for a bit, before we got married, since I had never dated anyone else.
Stupid plan.
It was probably time for us to move on, anyway, but it's hard to do when you're in love and far away.
So, through a series of horrifying phone calls to the group phone at his barracks, I discovered (by accident) that he had gotten married.
He never even admitted he was dating anyone else the whole first semester.
At Christmas he was supposed to come to my house, since his family had moved to Seattle.
He didn't.
(great, I just erased the rest of this. stupid laptop mouse.)
It was February or so when I made the call and was met with his wife's voice.
Ok, I lied...I had my friend call.
It was the most devastating moment of my life.
I cried until I puked.
I cried myself to sleep for months.
I cried at every love song--
they had all been written for us.
I was convinced that I would never be loved again (as are we all after the first breakup, and possibly more...i never recovered enough to feel that deeply again)
and when the guy I was dating a few months later said he only slept with the girls he loved...
It just clicked.
If I could get him to screw me, I would know I was loved.
So I did.
and I was.
Poor fellow...
He worshipped the ground I walked on.
He loved me so much, and I just smiled and gave him someone to love, but returned his feelings with emptiness.
I remember running into him a couple of years later at a bar.
We sat and had a drink.
He told me that he kept breaking up with girls because they weren't me.
he kept dating girls named Lisa, but they weren't me.
He still loved me.
"I'm sorry," was all I could muster.
I felt like such an asshole.
He played Live that summer...but I didn't like it.
We drove to Syracuse, NY to see the Fleetwood Mac chick...I'm blanking on her --
Stevie Nicks.
But when we got to Vermont, to crash at his friend's place, there was lightening, and thunder,
and we called the venue and it was cancelled.
Outdoor show.
We were disappointed, but came
to heaving my virginity out the window of that beautiful old home, surrounded by trees and green mountains.
I'm rambling now.
The point of this.
The whole point was to say that:
The boy--the first love--we got in touch about 3 years ago, and caught up on each other's lives and he offered a vague apology for how he had handled things.
It was nice.
And felt like closure.
But a few weeks ago I sent another email.
He's in Iraq right now.
Has been there 20 out of the last 36 months.
I'm experiencing a whole bunch of strange feelings, emailing with him.
The prominent one is that I'm so glad I didn't marry him...
because of this war.
I doubt it would have made me as happy as I am now, anyway.
I wasn't ready to get married at 23 (even though I did) let alone at 18 or 19, as we were planning on.
I have mentioned before how much I wish I would have had sex with him.
How amazing it would have been.
It is one of two regrets I have in my whole life.
Both of them romantic-type, too.
The night I tried to heal a heart I had broken, residing in the crushed and torn spirit of a boy...who looked like a man, but wasn't ready to be treated like one.
Dammit, that night was just. it was just. I wish it would evaporate into the air of that night, but it was too cold...maybe that's why it stays frozen forever, reminding me of my poor choice.
Off the subject again. Sorry.
The first boyfriend.
He taught me to kiss, awakened every nerve in my body to the sexuality that I was so afraid of awakening.
The sex would undoubtedly have been phenomenal.
And we loved each other so much.
It took me a long time to forget him,
and an even longer time to heal.
And now.
Reading his words, about how strong his wife is and how well she puts up with his deployments...it hurts way less than I might have thought, but it does make me just the tiniest bit sad.
He sounds happy.
And that is so good...
But I guess there's a part of me that still wishes he would feel the pain that I felt.
That he would know what he did to me.
That he would suffer like I did and beg me for forgiveness for all those tears and all that he changed about my life by his choices.
But it's ok.
I will pray for his safety.
And send him braless you're-missing-out tuesday photos.
(just kidding).
Oddly, that would embarass the hell out of me.
He knew me as such an innocent thing.

Thanks for listening.
Sorry for the tangents and the re-hashing and the memory lane waltzing.

Look out, I'm hungry!

So I should probably be eating instead of posting...
but, too late.
I'm here.

Another busy day in paradise.
Kids had their post-kindergarten assessments.
Much fun.
I love watching them answer all the questions easily and correctly.
I volunteered to be a helper for their field trip next week...
Why I did that is beyond me.
I apparently enjoy torture.

Ok, nevermind.
I thought I could post.
but then the phone rang and my son started...
just, started.
You know how they do.
a thousand different requests which all translate to: give me attention.
funny, I've hardly touched the computer all day and I finally make me way here, and
he needs me.
oh well.
that's life.
and it's a good one, so I'll quit whining.
maybe try this later...

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Live. LIVE. Live!!

The Live show was amazing.
It was sweaty and crashy and I was only 20 feet or so from the stage.
Oh Ed, why didn't you take off your pants?
You took of your shirt, but the least you could do was teach us how to pronounce your name.
They opened with "Selling the Drama".
I lost it when they said my favorite line, "it's the way we sing that makes 'em dream".
Fuck yes it is, boys.
They did a few from their upcoming album, including "Sophia" which is great, but the other new ones were just as good.
It doesn't come out until June 13th, though.
They did "LIghtening Crashes" and "White, Discussion" and "I Alone" and "Overcome" and "dolphins cry" and "Heaven" and more.
The new songs were "The River" and "Show" (which was awesome) and something else.
They did a cover of Johnny Cash, "I Walk the Line".
god DAMN does that man have an incredible voice--rich and deep and steady.
He blew it out of the water.
I wish I could see Pearl Jam in a bar.
It is so intimate, so amazing.
They played for about 2 hours, I think.
It was just...everything.
It was beautiful.

There was a crazy chick in front of us who wanted to get into a fight really badly, but no one was biting,
and we were originally standing sort of in a doorway, so people kept pushing past us and it was about to drive me over the edge, but just in the nick of time we got shuffled forward a bit.
Jasmine got a boner in her back for most of the show, but the dude was pretty cute.
She also got kissed by some old dude on the way out.
She has all the fun!

I am going to drift off with visions of men with shaved heads and beautiful eyes...
wish you were there.
yeah, you.

OH! I forgot the best part!
I don't know how to explain it without sounding like a sap.
He sang, "I don't need no one to tell me 'bout heaven, I look at my daugherS and I believe" and I just loved the power of that one little letter to tell us that his life has grown fuller since he wrote the song.
And I loved that in the recording that gets heard by people all the time, it hasn't changed, of course, but that right there, in that room, we were told something.
Well, those of us who listened, those of us who knew.
And did I mention the beauty of...grey, in all its shades on that stage?
No, they didn't play that song.
They sounded amazing.
They were so close.
Shirt off.
I can't believe how easy it is to star strike me.
It's like taking a paint brush and star striping me...
I think I'm funny
...and so do you.

I really do fear that I'm losing my mind, or rather my brains.
My memory is probably no worse than it has been since pregnancy, but I can't remember...

I can't forget, but i can't remember...
This stupid kid kept yelling "Turn My Head!"
which, I agree, would have been nice to hear, juices and all (winka winka),
at one point I reached up and made a turning motion over his head, as if I were grabbnig his head and turning it.
I really do think I'm funny.

I'm going to be compelled to buy (for the FOURTH time) Throwing Copper.
It is one of my favorite albums of everlasting life.
Throwing Copper
Joshua Tree
Blood Sugar Sex Magik
and...um...can't think of the other one right now.
Email just in.
Will read it instead.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Fourteen hundred and SIXTY-two...

Columbus was...eleven.
Yes, I knew his birth year without looking it up, didn't YOU??
(Note: today is Liar Liar Plants For Hire Day.)

Today is also a day in which Lisa does an experiment to see if eating the top half of 3 cupcakes is a good home remedy for cramps.
So far so good.
As an aside, two 5 year olds on a love seat jostling about in the proximity of one's lap is NOT a good remedy.
For anything.

Today was their Kindergarten Spring Program thingy.
It was super-cute.
They each had a little line to say, and, I can tell you this cuz you won't tattle, but Oliver said his way too fast.
They both refused to sing, but I knew that before hand.
Max covered his ears every time we clapped, and the dumbasses who organized it had them sitting on opposite sides of the stage.
I did some STELLAR panning, I tell you what!
Nice and wobbly, with some fat lady's head in it
(she, incidentally, did not sing either...boy, that show went on forEVER!)
p.s. this reminds me of why I am currently a bit of a fat lady myself: karma.
Bah humbug.
So anyway, the program was wonderful and the boys were the handsomest ones there, obviously.
And next week they don't have school at all because they'll be going in for individual appointments with the teacher to do an assessment test.
Then the following week is no school monday, field trip tuesday, field day wednesday, LAST DAY thursday!!!
I'm still not sure how I feel about a whole summer back on full-time Mom duty...
At least we can be lazy and carefree, right?
Swimming and jumping and hiking and gym-ing...doesn't sound so lazy, after all...that was in reference to what time I'll roll ever so squishily out of bed: noon.
Ok, ok, more like 8, but it'll feel so decadent!!!

So last night we went to sing karaoke because the fancy struck us.
It was silly.
As you know, Becky and I sing karaoke together quite often.
Astoundingly enough, we have never burst out laughing during a song and been unable to stop...
until last night, that is.
We were cruisin' through a lovely rendition of the Eagles classic (no, I didn't forget the apostrophe, it's like "the Pearl Jam classic", not "pearl jam's classic"...pearl....jam....edddddie....siiiiiiiiigh....)
--rendition of the Eagles classic "Take It Easy," when the second occurence of the line, "I was runnin' down the road tryin' to loosen my load--" came around.
Becky leaned into me and whispered, "Loosen...your load!"
I knew what she meant by the way she said it, and started giggling.
"How about some kaeopectate?" I whispered back.
We did one more line of the song, and then she said, "Don't you mean Ex-Lax?"
That did it.
I was done.
I couldn't stop giggling.
I tried SO hard.
and, I mean...technically, it's not really that funny to confuse a popularly advertised diarhea medicine with a well-known laxative, but somehow the fact that our lovely little song had taken such a foul turn just tickled my funny bone.
and then there's the fact that once you start laughing in front of a group of people, it's nearly impossible to stop.
So that was...
It was not nearly as embarassing as the song list.
The choices were limited to:
tons of country
tons of lounge-singers (tom jones, ENGLEBERT frickin HUMPERDINK!)
and the strangest selections from rock albums that I've ever seen.
The Pearl Jam list was:
**I am Mine
**Last Kiss
Each artist we checked had one well-known song and maybe one or two others that we had never heard of.
Nirvana only had ONE, "You know you're right," which I love, but come on, they had some hits!
It was disturbing on several levels, and made me want to punch the host guy in the nutsack.
Anyway, we saved face with our performance of "Yesterday", by The Beatles, but I wanted to laugh so badly...
Did anyone ever notice how DIRTY this verse is???
"Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be
There's a shadow hanging over me
oh, yesterday came suddenly "
First of all, we're girls, so losing half our man-hood struck me as silly,
then the shadow hanging over me could be the half that's missing...
and then when mind was already gurgling through the silliness of all that,
I got smacked with "came suddenly"???
I choked back my laughter out of pride.
Good times.
And we never did get J to join us for a song, but she will.
Oh, she will.

That is all for now.
Oh, the 1462 thing is how many posts I've done so far.
No FRIGGING wonder I'm burned out.
Oh, one more thing: I think I should found a religion and be a priestess, cuz that line of that song is wicked.
there is something so...incredibly...sexy about the word "priestess".
I wonder why? Maybe it's the mysticism, the way it exists in some entirely unorthodox sphere, and is often associated with "dark arts"...?
I, for the record, am not even remotely attracted to (or by) the thought of dark arts.
Pesky mormon upbringing.

If anyone needs me, I'll be planting flowers and fruit.
Have a happy-happy

Thursday, May 18, 2006

this is an audio post - click to play

Yup. It's been scientifically proven.

Time has proven it, at least.
That if I say "i have nothing to say" then I end up writing the best post ever.
(at least, most of the time, and "ever" means, "for me")
So, doesn't it figure that the moment I say, "I'm not blogging much anymore", I get hit with a wave of STUFF to say??

Ok, well.
As long as we're all ok with my mood swings, I guess this motherfucker can carry on.
It just feels so vanilla without all the sex and swearing, but I'm not feeling the need to express those things here, for some reason.
How's about if I DON'T dissect that?

not much to say, except for that whole "bubonic plague found in utah" business.
jesus, I mean, REALLY??
That's what I get for singing "Ring around the rosie" with my kids--
and explaining its history to them.
Why do I do these things???
Oh yes, this does make it my fault.
Trust me.

I had a good workout today.
And my trainer scolded me for ditching him last week, and forced me to set up an appointment for tomorrow and next week.
God bless him.
I have re-proven the fact that I can eat whatever the hell-fire-damnation I want to as long as I'm working out, but that's just for maintenance.
We MUST move forward with the weight LOSS, here!
We must.
bathing suit season is about 2 weeks away.
I'm like that grasshopper, who played away the whole summer and didn't have food for the winter...uh...
only backwards, in every way.
I did NOTHING all winter, and now find myself with the residue of too much food for the summer.
I could write a cute little parable about that.
Oh wait.
That's every article in every women's magzine from February until June.
I could still kick all your asses, though.
I am tough.
And not flabby.
So that counts for something.
Who's sick of THIS topic??
Good, we all agree.

Ok. Enough.
I want to dream the dreams of a fairy princess.
Oh, wait, one quick thing.
I saw a lead in for a news story about dream interpretation and how dreams are really just pieces of our day and how we view ourselves.
no shit.
That's what I've always said, at least.
I can almost always pinpoint where my dreams were born.
...the labor and delivery room at brain wave central, of course!

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

In which I continue sorting through my head...

I hear heavy footsteps, and voice exercises.

I woke up today with a poem on my lips...
but I blinked and it was gone.
All I'm left with is the memory of the way it felt, and a slight yearning to have it again in my mind.
That wasn't intended as a metaphor...but it kind of sounds like one.

I guess I will say that I am officially easing up on blogging.
The silly part is that I have been uninvolved for a long time now.
That causes me stress, because I want to be involved.
I love reading about you fantastic fellers (remember: I use "fellas" for girls, too...don't know why; it feels like a giggle in word form when I do it, though) and I used to love discovering new blogs--now it just leaves me frustrated, because I don't have time for new blogs.
This is the crux of the problem.
The easy answer is to just announce that I'm sorry for being a shitty reader and that I'll officially continue to be a shitty reader for a while.
This sort of thing usually clears the air (in my air-filled head) pretty well and I can expect to melt back into a good routine sometime soon.
I think the fact that I require a routine these days is part of the problem, too.
Well...we all know that blogging can be very consuming--it fills whatever space there is, and sometimes starts encroaching on other parts of your day.
I just don't need so much from it anymore, I guess.
Someone mentioned yesterday in the comments that maybe I'm just too filled up with goodness right now to be the same blogger I was, and I think that's exactly right.
I seriously don't know whether to be happy or really pissed off that I'm not more pissed off about life...
It's a strange kind of comfortable numbness, I guess.
What I keep forgetting about this blog, as with life, is that it is not a static thing--it is as dynamic as a motherfucker.
I can't believe I'm so sensitive to perceived pressure.
Most of the time when I crumble, the pressure is all in my head.
Like this whole paralysis issue caused by my inability to read every blog I love every day (or even every week).
Who cares???
I do...
It's important to me to not do things halfway.
I am rather an all or nothing sorta gal.
If you're gonna kiss me, you better be prepared to screw me!
Well, more like, if I'm a Mormon I'm going to be one with all my heart (when I couldn't do that any longer, I stopped practicing ALL of it; broke so many commandments I think I'm in Guiness...) and if I'm going to break my diet I'm going to eat everything I want, and if I'm going to go to the gym it has to be every day, and if I'm going to get to know you, I'm going to suck every last drop of your essence out and roll it around on my tongue until I know the taste of your skin and the smell of your removed shirt--feel the fabric on my face...ok, I'm getting a little erotic over that one...it actually applies to non-sexual friendships, too, and the sensual descriptors just don't work for that. The point is, I hate half-assing anything--except homework, but that's different...

speaking of Guiness, (dammit i hate when i get distracted so quickly) remind me to look into brewing beer at home.
oddly, it was not D-man who inspired me, but I'm kinda thick.
See, it was an unthunk thought I had, that men are the ones who brew beer at home.
Possibly because MEN ARE always THE ONES WHO BEW BEER AT HOME.
I, however, love cooking (which also involves recipes and tasting and receiving adoration of guests) and I love beer, so why shouldn't I do this??
I should.
Mr. husband has mentioned a couple of times that he would like to brew beer, but he's neither skilled in the kitchen nor interested in the process--just the product.
I'm sure he would enthusiastically participate in the whole process if I spearhead it, though.
Have I told you guys that I'm a hesitant leader?
I will only lead in situations where I know I will be followed.
I'm a loser.
(a happy one, though!)

My belly is growling rather loudly.
And I keep wishing I could go to the new starbucks that is right around the (large-ish) corner from here.
Ok, it's about 15 blocks east, but that's closer than it sounds!
And it's right on my way to the freeway...
and everyone else's which is why it's there.
I have been hankering for a Chai Latte.
Possibly iced, since summer has decided to blow into town, late and unapologetic.

Yesterday was a cluster fuck.
A certified, royal Charlie Foxtrot.
It worked out ok, but
was it stupid.
I dropped off the car for the alignment,
and they gave me a nearly-identical car to drive until they finished (which was really cool. AND they didn't charge me for the alignment, which sort of boggled my pea brain).
Smart girls sometimes do stupid things.
I gave them my whole set of keys.
I didn't even think to remove my garage door opener until I was back on my side of the mountain (good book!) valley and was pulling into my driveway, reaching for my visor...
So I went to Subway and got some absolutely delicious sandwiches
and even more delicious cookies...oh....cookies...(seriously, I have issues).
and picked the kids up from school
and took them to the park for a picnic
and a walk
and then we went home to try to break in because it was getting hot outside
and I wanted to take them to the Children's Museum but our season pass thingy was at home because I'm a shitty-luck bastard and had removed my wallet to make room for my (unneeded) laptop
and (i'm diggin' this whole 'and' format...suck it)
and we were unsuccessful, so I decided that I would just PAY to get in if they couldn't look me up in the system...again with the retardation!!! What's the matter with my brain people, I mean, really???
and then we went
and they looked me up,
and it was fun, but I kept almost falling asleep while the kids played.
I lost my 'and' rhythm...bummer.
I left out some stuff, too.
Like the fact that I went to Walgreens to pick up my thyroid meds...
which leads me to the story of the day before, when I stood in line at the prescription pick-up counter in WALMART for twenty minutes with my kids.
Yes, MY kids.
You're familiar...rascally little rabbits who don't like standing still or sitting still or...LISTENING TO THEIR MOTHER.
eh, they did ok for a quite a while, but then some idiot let their idiot kid go play with the blood pressure tester machine and I had to be an idiot and tell my kids it was not a toy and that they would be in big trouble (x,y,z) if they touched it.
Why am I so stupid??? Why????
Of course they had to touch it!!
Not only are they more curious than that damned monkey, but they were bored to death already.
So, that sucked.
And then it was my turn and my prescription hadn't been called in.
So I started swearing (wooot! I fit the wal-mart stereotype!) and ditched my cart full of really pretty flowers I had picked out, to plant in the flower bed next to my back porch...
and dialed my doctor.
I was too pissed to be making that call...
so I ended up snapping at the best nurse on the entire planet of earth and feeling wretched about it for the whole call and not being able to sufficiently convey my feelings--I tried damn hard, though.
Anyway, she explained that my "default" pharmacy was the wal-mart closest to their office, even though A. I had never been told there was a default and B. EVERY time they fill it she asks me which pharmacy and I tell her the address of the one I had just left, so in my mind they should have known which pharmacy I used even though she didn't ask this time.
So I had her switch it to Walgreens because A. they're not walmart, B. they have a DRIVE THRU!!!!!!!, and C. they're not walmart and they have a drive thru!!
So there's my life, in a nutshell.
(no, this is me in a nutshell, "help! I'm in a nutshell! get me out of this nutshell!")

Why is it that when I think I'm all dried up, I end up with more stories than daytime tv??
I have two more for ya, so hold on to your...eh, whatever you need to hold on to.

While we were at the Children's Museum, the woman invited us over to watch her feed the snake.
It was just us and the boys both held the horrid little thing!!!
They know I hate snakes, but I encouraged them to hold it and played cool, because they deserve the chance to see for themselves.
Of course, with my luck, they'll become fascinated with snakes and catch them and try to sneak them into the house as pets and I'll end up with one in my bed or up my leg or--
ok, must stop...respiration elevating...
So, they held the squirmy thing and Oliver started walking toward me with it--
I jumped back and kept backing away, "No, honey, just stay there. I don't want to hold it. I'm glad you're having fun. It's nice, isn't it?"
I abhor weakness, especially in myself, and I think I did alright with that situation.
Anyway, then she put the snake away and dumped in 3 little baby mice!!
It was sad and awful, but kinda cool.
We watched the snake swallow them whole, their little feet still wiggling...
I was sad for them, but...circle of life, or something.

Final story is quick:
We just planned a really cool family thanksgiving in Disney World thing.
My sister has a time share there, and we had plans to take our kids right before Christmas, to use a vacation package thingy we bought, but we changed our reservation to match hers, and our parents are coming, too!
We haven't had Thanksgiving together since I was in high school.
I have been hoping to get home for one sometime, but summer is so much better for visiting that I just haven't done it.
Florida is MUCH better than Maine in November.
We are beyond excited.
I hope the kids miraculously become perfect by then.

I'm done.
Have the happiest least-crappiest day and don't ever believe a word I say.
I'll blog til I die.

(Christ, that was long!!! Even for me, that was long. you deserve some treats...how about my teats? haaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha! love that rhyme!!)

***edit: picture removed, cuz I might have just given this URL to an old boyfriend.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Clumsy and confused

I am tripping over all the comfortable habits of my recent past,
forgetting to do things, changing patterns--
and things feel strange, they feel unsettled, but yet not unpleasant.
Could the winds of change actually be soothing me this time?
Usually they are chafers.
Or maybe I'm just growing up...?
Which, as we all know, at THIS age means "getting old"...
I'm feeling rather like this blog has served its usefulness,
that my introspection is no longer required.
Not one to ever just walk away, I've been putting this off for a long time.
and I doubt I can make a clean break of it,
I was thinking I would take the summer off, and then I was thinking that when summer's over I'll have more on my plate than ever, and...
just typing these words makes that comfortable feeling disappear like my hymen on June 22, 1994.
It fills me with a heavy feeling, like panic and mourning, and I almost want to cry.
I just sort of think it may be time for a change.
A big one.
Too bad I'm incapable of a couple of things:
1. thinking things like this over, INSIDE my head
2. being the one to leave...I only dumped one guy once (see: june 22, 1994) and that was because I was using him to heal from the greatest heartbreak any girl has ever known. Yes, it was really that bad. It'll be in a book someday--the fucker can count on that!
So #2 was in reference to leaving the blog, not leaving my husband, just so we're all clear--sorry to dash your hopes!! hahahahaha!!
But I don't think I'll desert it altogether because, really...it's been so good to me.
I think I'll try to find a new focus--something outside of me.
I am pretty sure I have followed the paths of my innerworkings to their respective dead ends and I'm well beyond the nauseated point.


this turned into a much deeper post than I intended, and I have to go or I'm going to be late to drop off the car for its alignment.
Maybe that's the hangup with the blog...
maybe I've been too intent on WRITING.
I should get back to its roots, where I was just yammering about life.
it was more entertaining then...
Don't panic--and don't heap me with kind words or I'll be TOTALLY embarassed.
this was just me, thinking out loud as usual.

My life is so much busier this past year than it has been since I started blogging.
It's no wonder I'm feeling differently about the place in my daily world held by this escape, this entertainment device.

It's all good.
I forgot to grab my mp3 player.
I wanted to put my newly downloaded songs on it.
I've been listening to Phish since I walked through the living room while step son was watching The Simpsons over the weekend, and it was an episode about legalizing Mary J and the band playig was Phish.
p.s. sometimes I loathe our grammar rules with a fiery fiery passion.

So, to recap: this is going to be the summer of fluff.
Deep stuff only when absolutely necessary.
Otherwise, It's going to be Braless Every-day and "fuck"-overload!!!



Have a good day, and wish me luck with the alignment (the car needed it when we bought it, but I'm really slow at getting around to stuff...) and the "loaner" they're giving me til it's done...
hopefully just a couple of hours, but you never know.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Just a few quick thoughts--

"House" rocks.
(but which is better? School House Rocks?)
This man.
I don't know why I've been forgetting to watch it--
well, technically, yes I do (it wasn't on a weekly timer on my Tivo)
The error has been ammended.
Ithink I'm watching old ones on USA, but
Sorry, summer TV joke...
***erased rant about not eating meat***
Also, there's the chocolate.
Oh, I'm not saying the v-peeps don't eat chocolate, I'm just saying it's an important thing to consider in any discussion.

School House Rock Rocks.

Oh, no, wait, it's not the end!
I also wanted to express my love and gratitude for Limewire.

p.s. If you're vegan, I'm terribly sorry for offending you, and I hope you don't hate me...I just needed to rant about something and there was a vegan storyline on House...I'm not terribly independent in my thinking, am I?

House does not rock.
House is evil.
in the time it took my angry teary-eyed self to open this...
the mom and baby both lived!!
I was gonna have to be pissed. Really pissed.
and I guess I even have to apologize for the vegan outburst, since the vegan diet wasn't what was killing the other baby; it turned out to be a genetic something or other.
dammit, the mother didn't live...
fucking stupid ass show.
fucking stupid ass play with my emotions show!!!
It's as bad as some guy who's afraid of commitment and uses women's insecurities to keep them under his thumb!!!

emotional roller coasters.
far less fun than Love roller coasters...I may be rolling into a Red Hot Chili Peppers phase...

'Five Guys,' a jazz club and no story in sight - A & E

There were a couple of changes after I left, but this is it....
I can't believe how intense this is--how much I'm fretting about each word, each phrase!!!!

'Five Guys,' a jazz club and no story in sight - A & E

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Happy Mudder's Day, ladies

...and gentlemen?

Today didn't really start off so great, but I'm full of peace again.
You don't really want/need to hear my laundry list of grumblings--
they're rather starchy and static-y, anyway.
Let's just stick with the highlights--
1. friday night, hubby brought me home 4
yes, FOUR
dozen roses...most incredible.
2. friday night, his mother took her 4 daughers-in-law to a lovely dinner
(to honor the mothers of her grandchildren...she's weird, but sweet)
3. today I got home from my editing meeting to be met with a husband ready to cook dinner and two kids presenting me with the sweetest, most thoughtfully-selected gifts.

Anyway, the most important part is that Mr. husband is my darling
and being a mom is a pretty damn cool gig.
I was watching Oliver eat his cereal...
I love the way he tips his spoon to let all the milk drip out.
I love the way Max holds my hand and leads me along when I've said "just a minute" too many times...
I, of course, love every littlest thing there is about them both.
Even their tantrums and their ornery times.
I love how they insist upon understanding every last shred of life that they encounter...even though it wears me the fuck out.
I love that they love hiking and sunshine and adventures.
I love that each little boy has such a distinct personality, but is still so much like his brother.

I talked to my Mom today, too.
She's my hero in all of the ways that I could name.
She has probably never sinned, although she may think she has.
She has never even been self-righteous.
Or selfish or greedy or inconsiderate.
I've been thinking lately of all the ways I need to slow down and listen to the inside, the old me, the me that came from her, direct route.
I used to be more soft and kind...not that I'm bitchy now, I'm really not.
I just think I let things change me, and I worried that I would be unappreciated or unrevered, for hell's sake.
I wanted to be a star, not just the glue holding others together, but, well...
I can do both.
I can at least relax and let the Mom in me come through.
She's a good example to follow.

As for the meeting with my editor...
it went really well!
He read over it and made a couple of very general comments,
We made a few small changes and then he left me to redo the opening.
When he returned and read it he sat back and smiled.
He said mine was one of the best first articles he had seen.
I didn't tell him that had been what I was hoping for...
So it should be in tomorrow's edition, since the play ends this coming weekend and the next issue isn't out til Thursday.
the link is...
something or other.
And you better believe I'll be swinging by to pick up a dozen copies!!
What a relief--
To have done it, and be on my way!
Feels good.
I can see some ways to improve next time,
and we talked about some comprehensive articles.
There are two Festivals in a southern town this summer:
Neil Simon & Shakespeare.
He was thrilled that I offered to go cover either/both of those events, but they're a little later in the summer.
I have a couple of shows I can review in the start of June, but I may have a very quiet week or two right now.
I guess I'm on my way!!
I discovered that articles pay about $20 each. Heh.
Good thing I'm not trying to make a living at this!!
(and, yes, that means I'll have to start writing 3 articles for each issue if I intend to make a dent in my tummy tuck fund!! That's ok...I'm sure hubby will pay for it eventually because he knows how much the hideousness pains me...)

Also, next time the darling man tells the THREE kids they can each spend TEN DOLLARS at the GODDAMNED Dollar store, I'm going to kick him in the shins.
(my little ones are amazed by the fact that everything costs one dollar. We pretty much just discovered this modern marvel a few monthes ago, and whenever they have money of their own they BEG to go there. Anyway, they were asking Dad if they could go, and he offered them each ten bucks. ten. That means we are now the proud owners of 30 assorted pieces of junk, most of which have A BILLION parts, and they are EVERYWHERE. Do you like my use of the shift key today? This has been no small contributor to the uneasy, stressful feelings with which I've wrestled all weekend. Just kidding, but that sentence was fun to write. I think I'll close this parenthetical notation...)

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Friday Memes Anonymous

Well, not exactly anonymous.
It's ME.
Open Book Central.

Ok, the sexy and fabulous Ms. Mona tagged me (and she's welcome to tap dat, if you know what I mean. heh.)
So here's the deal:
I am supposed to write ten interesting things about me.
There is probably not a damn thing left that I haven't already written about at least once, but ya know.
If I can't remember writing about it, it did't happen.
Or something.

1. I got a lab-sharpe mix on february 29th and named her Sadie...I only managed to keep her for a few days before I had to find her a new home because pets were not allowed in my apartment complex.

2. If I have hangnails, I flip them back and forth with whichever finger is the most convenient. This usually lasts until the flipping finger gets cramped (over the course of a whole day, or more) and I finally, grudgingly, get the nail clippers and cut it off. It is my most obvious nervous habit.

3. One of my bad habits is that I talk too much. Sometimes I can't stop myself, although it has been getting better these past few years. Somehow I think having this semi-one-sided outlet has been good for my verbal flooding. For the record, I have always been a good listener, too. (it's only fair!)

4. I started wondering last night if my sexual peak has already come and gone. (no 'cum' jokes, please. har.) Let's all just cross our fingers or sacrifice a chicken and hope not, m'kay? ***UPDATE: I guess this one wasn't very clear. Hubby and I are doing great, as ever. A year or so ago I hit a crazy peak and now we're at more of a plateau, but we've already discussed it (our communication skills rock not only the Cas, but the Bah too!) and he's standing on that windy plateau with me--looking up my skirt when I'm not kneeling in front of him swallowing his. ahem. I am actually fairly certain that peak I hit was not my "women hit their sexual peak in their 30s" peak--it was circumstantial, due to feeling sexy again after a few years of pregnancy/post-pregnancy fatness and the occurence of hubby and I finding each other again after a bit of a struggle and falling madly in love again/possibly for the first time. So OBVIOUSLY the sex was amazing--what's better than falling in love with your best friend who you've promised to spend the rest of your life with?? Uh, nothing, that's what. Ok. So are we clear?

5. When my sister was getting ready to leave for her first year of college and I was facing my senior year as an only child, with my boyfriend in Boot Camp for the (goddamned motherfucking asswipe) Marines, I saw an ad in the newspaper for a foreign exchange student looking for a sponsor family. My heart leapt at the chance to not face all the loneliness and to instead learn more french and make a new friend. It was a really rough adjustment--for her as well as for us, of course--but after a few weeks we began growing close, and she began showering daily. We used to lie on my bedroom floor, with our heads under my bed, listening to The Beatles and talking about boys. She was an incredible artist--sculptor and painter/drawer, and I have some of her work still. We promised to remain in touch no matter what. Oh, god, the heartbreak of knowing I would never see my french sister again was almost as bad as sending my first love off to the evil Marine Corps. And when I was getting ready to go to France, I wanted to get in touch with her so much, but...I knew she wouldn't be there (her family had lived all over the world before her year with us, and the last i had heard she was living with a boyfriend in Denmark--she was a wanderer--and had already lost most of her English). So I didn't even try. I regret this.

6. That was a long one. I'm counting it as two. Unless I change my mind and have more to say...

7. In high school (90-93), I watched very little television. When people talk about shows from that era I am usually clueless. College, in the other hand, brought good reason to watch all kinds of stupid shows. Afternoon studying was easily sidestepped with Full House reruns, and we noticed a pattern: at 3:26 the cheesy music would fade in and the moral of the story would be spelled out. We hated it, but watched it anyway.

8. My first (2) concert(s) was(were) The New Kids On the Block. At the first of these, I attempted to express my delight at their proximity with the still-famous phrase, "We're breathing the same air as they are!" I should call Jessica.

9. When I was a kid, I was painfully shy and fairly judgmental--in rather odd ways. There seemed to be an absolute, and my way was the only right way: my friend calling her mother "mama" one time when we were 12 or so rather appalled me; my other friend calling "The Little House on the Prairie" "Mary & Laura" annoyed the hell out of me--but, importantly, I never said a word. These two girls were my BEST BEST BEST friends, separately, from about first grade until...well, mostly the present. The one was my church friend, and lived a 45 minute drive away, and the other was my school friend, and lived a 7 minute walk away and all three of us have naturally curly hair and otherwise, the two of them could not be more different, yet I love them both like sisters.

10. I love sci fi movies. I love the way they expand my perception, my expectation of the future or alternate realities.

11. ...because I like rambling randomly...
I want to have a garden and flowers, but I don't know how and I'm afraid I'll fuck it up, so I don't do anything about it.

Ok, that's enough.

I will not tag anyone cuz I'm lazy and apathetic.
Just kidding...I just can't remember who's already done it.
And I'm lazy.

I cooked the most delicous gourmet-style dinner the other night.
Scallops in a white wine and herb saute, pasta with fresh tomato and basil, and sauted (fresh) green beans.
it was gud.
almost as mouth watering as the cookies I made today.
I would probably eat my way into a diabetic coma if I was left alone with those cookies for too long. literally.

Ok, have a happy weekend.
Sorry for the heavy post.
It was fun for me...if that counts.
Sorry for the slackity-assed blogging lately, too.
I guess life gets in the way of the keyboard sometimes.
It's all good.
Oh, I get to drive my brother in law's Porsche soon.
I am.
Beyond stoked.
I'll have to think of something nice to do for him to show my appreciation.
(my husband's response to this was, "you could blow him." So I said, "really? that would be ok with you? sweeeet!!" It was funny to me, but I can imagine that it might not be that funny to some people...especially ones who know me, so for that I apologize...somewhat grudgingly)
He's a great guy.
Everytime I try to say one of the brothers (of hubby's 5) is my favorite, I can't commit to it, because I really love them all.
They're all so much (sorry, I'm now hung up on an Alanis Morissette lyric..."so much braver than I gave you credit for", which is not exactly the sentiment I'm going for, but I'd like to incorporate it anyway...back to the program...)
hey, let's just start that sentence over.
They're all awesome.

I got my mom's big scrap booky thing from our France trip done and in the mail.
$25 says it'll be there in time for Mother's Day.
No, that wasn't a wager; that's how much it cost to get it there on time.
Well worth it, well worth it.

Happy weekend to you all
and Happy Mother's Day to those of you to whom it applies (how was that for a personal greeting?)

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

I used to say things, and do things, and Jesus said I was evil...

I was asked earlier if I've climbed delicate arch...
I’ve been in the shadow of the Delicate Arch!
Palm pressed to its massive leg,
I have stared up at the shadows of its curves and felt the shiver of my precarious position.
It’s the most breathtaking,
heart stopping,
eye-sparkling place I’ve ever been.
It’s this giant-amazing-huge-beautiful arch,
you’ve seen the pictures,
but at the front it drops down into this huge bowl of red rock, deep and far and scare-the-poo (and not the Winnie kind)-out-of-me bowl.
It’s terrifying, really.
The sensation of knowing that one misstep could tumble me head over heels over head over rock to the bottom of it...
and on the other side it drops off hundreds of feet--
a sheer cliff to the canyon floor.
I have always pictured myself framed by that arch in a white dress with my heart in a tux, both of us shoeless,
but when the time came, it didn’t seem practical.
Too far for everyone to go, etc.
We had a schooner reserved for the ceremony, in Maine, but stoooopid Lisa had to check the Farmer’s Almanac,
which said there would be a hurricane
(that word took me 3 tries. What the hell??)
so we canned it and got married in the courtyard of the hotel we had booked for the reception.
It was lovely, but.
I’m thinking ten year anniversary we do the whole silly renew-the-vows thingy at both of the aforementioned locations.
Inviting our closest Utah friends to the Moab one, and my family to the Maine one.
(crazy blog friends may choose whichever location suits them. Har.)
Ok, well THAT was quite the tangent.
I’m sunburned, just a bit, and fully of amazing spicy Italian chicken and shrimp pasta stuff and tiramisu and not-wine, but also not-whine (from the littles, who I actually took to a GROWN UP restaurant for the first time) which was priceless and wonderful.
I just prowled through my dictionary because I couldn’t bring the word “precarious” to mind—boy oh boy does that piss me off.
Anyway, as I was looking, I stumbled upon a fabulously underused word: pet-cock.
It is a tool...hehehe...used to open a valve in PLUMBING!!!!!!!!!!
That is priceless.
I shall just sit and enjoy that for a moment.

I saw a guy shopping in the women’s section of the department store I was ruthlessly pillaging today.
A tall, angular young man.
At first I thought, oh how nice, he’s buying a gift.
Then my eyes slipped down his body and caught just a flash of a high-heeled shoe sticking out from his non-descript jeans.
It wasn’t a man’s heel, like a cowboy boot or a boot of possible masculine origins.
It was a pointy-toed, pointy-heeled shoe.
A women’s shoe too girlie for ME.
My heart broke in the partial second it took me to process the image,
for living in Utah, and being different is never easy,
no matter how comfortable a person may be with who he or she is,
and at that age, most of us weren’t comfortable with who we were even if that identity was
girl-next door, sweet as can be, straight A, virgin cheerleader!
(...what? So my life sounds idyllic on paper. It never felt that good up close and in the throes of insecure teenagehood...)
I just wanted to go hug him and offer to take the stuff to the dressing room for him so he wouldn't have to ask for a room with skirts and halter tops in his hands.

Ok, so back to the dinner and the shopping--
two events separated by most of the day, but two highlights, nonetheless.
I FINALLY got my parents their birthday presents...(2 and 1 months late, respectively)
and I also managed to acquire...
the most delectable leather bag, with a long cross-body strap and a billion-jillion pockets, including enough room for at least one notebook, so I'll probably use it for my school bag from now on...it is...really soft and thick and...the lining is a wonderful deep maroon and it smells like leather (uh, cuz it IS, dummy) and...yum.
I also got some perfectly pretty little sandals and a wreathy thing to put on my front door...because...
maybe it was time to exchange the very-obviously fall-themed one for something a bit more seasonal?
And I got a pretty little soft red leather bound journal and a yoga poses/routines book, both for my dear new twin mommy.
She is really a wonderful woman/girl.
she's only 22, so it's hard to call her a woman...sorry.
she has to relax, though, huh, Nancy? Or she's going to burn herself out.
She has boy/girl twins, and the girl is as smiley and content as could be, but the boy is just a fussy little thing--which means he gets more attention, and it weighs on her, the guilt...
oh, we know that drill, Nancy Dancey, yes we do.
Anyway, the books are drops in the bucket of what she needs to replenish her soul right now, but they'll have to do.
And what else...hmm...nothing worth mentioning, I think.
Some pants for hubby...hehe...
this morning he almost-crossly asked where all his pants were.
He carried on a bit about how they weren't in the dirty-clothes hampers,
nor were they hanging up.
I was busy getting ready or getting the kids ready or something, so I just kept shrugging.
Finally he located them.
In the hamper that "no one ever uses!"
This was...rather chuckle-inducing, if I do say so.
See, here's my laundry system:
one for whites
one for darks
one for mediums
one for towels
That's how I separate my wash, so I like to have one hamper for each; less sorting to do when laundry time comes, eh?
He never actually sorts his laundry, though, and only rarely throws everything hastily into whichever basket he trips and lands near when I've loudly hinted that if he doesn't he'll be wearing dirty clothes.
So it just really cracked me up...it's not that "no one" uses it, sweet man, it's that you didn't know it was there.
It's all good.
So anyway, there was a great sale on some nice pants, they had his size some good colors, etc so I bought them.
On my way home, I thought of how funny it would be to present him with them and say something like, "Cuz I'm NOT doing your laundry today!"
But, he's not home.
So I haven't had a chance yet.

Also I bought some new booster seats for the car.
Much easier to get the kiddos into and out of.
Praise the jeebus.

I love shopping.

I love bouncing and
and bouncing and
bouncing and bouncing
while my little angel-devil boys drill me with the most magnificent questions.
I need to make a video of those conversations (not the bouncing boobs, pervos)
because I forget sometimes, to be astouded by their level of insight-seeking.
Oliver asked what happened when all the grown ups were babies, and there weren't any other grownups yet...how did they get born?
holy fuckity ma-jeeezus, I barfed out the Cliffs Notes of Adam & Eve, but it left me somewhat light-headed.
...as barfing is wont to do...
just kidding.

who here would vote that I should risk a nuclear family war to attend a rock star party in Death Valley next week?
I know...
it sort of shatters the edges of my soul just to acknowledge that I could be there, if.
I've lost my edge anyway.
Gone soft, and not just in the middle.
Maybe I should just be a mom and a wife and a suburbanite.
Those are all good things.
Except for the last one.
It makes me shudder and squirm...
and not in those best of ways...

I am happy and glowy and happily busy.

I will be visiting an endocrinologist
it seems that my family doctor doesn't want to handle my thyroid the way I feel it should be handled.
He cannnnnNOT
switch my meds every goddamn month.
(right, Mona?)
He needs to give my body a chance to actually adjust.
He's switching me DOWN.
Last time I was on a dose this low, I felt like a walking yawn.
At least I was walking, eh?
So I'm taking matters into my own hands.
fuck him.
or the horse he rode in on; your choice.

Ok...I'm going...
Goodnight lovers and liars and ladybug dancers!

Can't sleep

It's been a strange sorta day, though, including an afternoon nap.
I loathe naps.
With the fire of a thousand suns.
However, they are occasionally unavoidable.
As in: sometimes, after feeling mildly ill in the stomach region,
one will jump on the trampoline at the behest of one's children,
and the mildness will be re-classified as...
So, one will retire to the couch with one's book.
(am I done with the "one" references yet?? probably not. It's kind of fun.)
Where soon one's children will join one (??) and one will doze off,
being startled awake by one's husband, who is making fun of...ONE for falling asleep on the couch.
So then I went (sorry, couldn't take the oneness anymore!!) upstairs and curled, folded, sighed
into my most delicious of beds.
Where I promptly had dreams of Mexican teens absconding with my son and my favorite brother's wife marrying Harrison Ford (although I never figured out why she wasn't married to my brother anymore!) who was lying, dozing, on my bed in the very spot in which I was dreaming about him!
I was very star struck, and followed my sister in law (or not) into the bathroom to whisper to her, "what's his latest movie? i want to ask him about it, but I can't remember...all I can think of is how much I loved Indiana Jones! And he's in my house!"
I'm a dork.
So then I technically regained consciousness, but naps are almost as lethal to me as lack of sustenance, so it wasn't a pretty hour as I waited for the waves of irritation and mumble-talk to recede enough for me to join the world.

Ok, so as for the rest of this bizarre little scoop of a day--
got a late start to visit brand new twin babies, and hubby joined me, making me even later.
babies were sweet and perfect and beautiful, and I hope my icky stomach/sleepiness was not contagious.
(speaking of icky stomachs, go visit Mark and bring a barf bag.)
and then...crap, there was more odd stuff.

I guess one of the things I wanted to mention was that Chris Daughtry, my favorite American Idol, chose 2 Elvis songs which are close to my heart.
He, of course, rocked them.
One of them reminded me of happy days, but not Fonzie...

I hate it when I think I have a cool idea for a thematic post and the theme flies out the window like a caged bird who finally found a key (and at least one opposable thumb...)

The trampoline is doing wonders for my exercise regimen.
15 minutes, 3 times a day.
not a bad addition to the rest of my work outs.
Maybe I'll post pictures.
Oh, did I tell you the news?
my digital camera is toast.
The shutter won't open, so that's pretty much the end of that gigantic beast of technology.
It's not even that old, but it's big enough to hold 3 rolls of film.
Takes great pictures, though.
Anyway, it's time to get a new one.
Mr. husband is finally ordering his projection system for televsion-type viewing pleasure.
He's also an uber nerd and will be rigging it so that he can play
world of fod;ifjai warcraft
on it.
with a split screen, so i can sit next to him and play together.
THAT I will do.
(we discovered that my laptop doesn't have a good enough video card and I refuse to sit in my office while he sits elsewhere so the whole marital gaming thing is on hold. but I've been pacified...hey, it's a VOLVO, I'm not cheap!)

that fucking commercial.
"I can't concentrate. could I be pregnant?"
Who the FUCK ever connects those two dots??

Ok, I'm done.
I'm hungry, though, and still not tired.
I hope I remember to make note of my post #1492...
it's coming right up sometime this summer.
That could be a fun day.
I could name a whole race of people eroneously or at least teach my husband that Portugal is in Europe...

Is it Friday yet?

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Go Bra Yourself!

I am tooooo
busy to post today.
or tomorrow, I should say.
but I am feeling like a leaf about to blow away in the wind...
my blog is a tree.
shit, I'm probably the tree, huh?

here is a a post from...september 5th 2005.
I think.

Weekend, what weekend?

You call that a motherfucking weekend, cocksucker???
got a little carried away there.
I had a fantastic weekend, actually.
exhausting as fuck, but good.
I seem to have acquired a second son of my mother-in-law and his two white pickup trucks.
eh, not in a reverse polygamy way, just as a guest/pariah/piranah for a bit.
just kidding.
I was rather stressed out about it, but I think it's going to be ok.
I just wish I could be alone in my house more.
no, not for any perversified reasons, you damn neanderthals.

my kids.
I'm beyond excited.
this is bigger than preschool...
it's like...
real life.
they're on the road.
and yes, I'm fucking beyond stoked.
it's going to be great.
and then I get to cry all the way to school.
I hope the tears have faded by the time I start screaming lengthy groupings of profanities at the worthless sacks of shit who will have sinfully stolen my parking spot.
cuz, well, you know, that wouldn't really make me look not crazy.

The marvelous Mr. husband fixed my corn-puter tonight.
I totally glove that guy.
sometimes I'd go so far's to say I's mitten with him.
(yes, that was a bit of a stretch, just go with it!)

ok, and in honor of
A. my computer's resurrection
B. my upcoming dollops of FREE time...

yes, yes.
y'all deserve a Braless Tuesday, and thensome.
now don't get all pant-y and slobbery on me--
there will BE no "thensome".

enjoy, and happy short-work-week, Americans!

(yeah, when I bought this shirt, I said to my husband, "It looks kinda "old lady", but it's really cute on..." and he said, "KINDA old lady???" er. well. fine. maybe so, but here's my nips!

Monday, May 08, 2006

Monday mornings are like--

an interupted dream,
or running out of gas on the backroad you took as a short cut,
or forgetting where you came from, but remembering in a rush of images and melancholy...
Monday mornings feel like peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth
(yes, yours--I hate it when we're making out and I encounter that sticky mess!)
they feel like wind blowing sand into eyes
Monday's mornings should all be gathered up and shoved under a bed--
a creaky, iron-framed one with a faded pink bedspread, ruffle hanging crooked over a cold, industrial-strength speckled tiled floor...not ceramic, not linoleum...what is that stuff? Our schools had that flooring, but so did some of the older homes.
Monday mornings are foggy and groggy and unwilling to move forward,
stubborn and stuck and stretched.
Monday mornings meant very little to me when I was a waitress,
the same way that Friday nights meant only a longing to be waited on instead of waiting on.

Sorry if all that brought you down.
Did you notice that I don't enjoy Monday mornings much?
I don't mind them much, either, but I can still feel them for what they are.

We had attempted to plan a trip to Moab for this coming weekend, but...
Hubby realized he has a job to do on Saturday, and I have a meeting with my editor on Sunday,
AND the mother-in-law is planning to take all her sons' wives to dinner on Friday, as her mother's day present to us.
I know, that last one sounds a little weird, and she is, but it's a pretty sweet gesture.
(And I mean that in the old fashioned way, not the "Sweeeeeet!" way.)
I think we're going to have to cancel our reservation.

Car news:
hubby has his seat adjustments saved as #3 on the memory of the driver's seat,
and mine are on #1--this is cool enough as it is, right?
So that we don't have to constantly re-figure out where we like the seat and mirrors after the other person has used the car.
(if we go somewhere together, he drives and we take my car)
Ok, so here's what we discovered over the weekend:
if he remotely unlocks the doors, the seat automatically moves into #3 position,
and if I use my remote it automatically moves back to #1.
Pretty damn cool, eh?
I am going to buy my car some flowers...

Tomorrow I am (finally) going to Ogden to visit my friend and her brand new twins!
Ok, so they're almost 3 months old, and I have visited them before.
This time I'm going with the intent to give her a break.
It's really weird to see someone else going through the darkest night of twin-infancy...
I just want to run and hide, or go hug her and tell her it'll get better soon (even though it will actually be a long time before it gets "better" and life is never, ever the same), but I can't do either one.
I wish she lived a little closer...
It's a 45 minute drive, and at this point I really can't take my kids with me if I expect to be helpful to her--or to keep her from running to the nearest adoption agency and begging them to take her babies before it's too late.
Ok, ok, my kids aren't that bad.
They're friggggin awesome, actually, but twin babies are hard enough that the last thing you want to see is twin 5 year olds who wear their mother out so easily.
Case in point:
On Saturday, my neighborhood held its semi-annual "Community yard sale", since having one at any other time is strictly prohibited.
It's a little odd, but I can't say that I mind; I've never had a yard sale of my own (I happen to like my yard! har.) anyway.
It happened to coincide perfectly with the cleaning out of the kids room I did the other day, and we had a few larger toys to get rid of.
So, I thought it would be fun for the boys to participate in selling their old stuff, and then take the money and buy even more useless junk...ugh...and they were very excited about it.
Until we got there.
Then they proceeded to play with the things we were trying to sell,
and get in the way of the "customers" and snatch the money from a nice lady with a VERY snotty sounding, "That's MY money!"
Oh, god...please, send down a bolt of lightening and place the tip gently on my head, and let the electricty pulse through me with every beat of my heart, taking me further away from mortality!!
So I called Daddy dear and whimpered sweet pleas for my sanity into the phone.
He brought me a chair (oh, the sale was at the park/pool area not on our lawn) and a book and retrieved the little sweetiehearts.
I actually considered staying there in my chair even after our things sold, just so I could soak up the sun and read The Hobbit.

I can't type for SHIT this morning, so I think I'll go.
I h9ope you're all having a better Monday than a Tuesday would be.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Perfection comes in many sizes and shapes

...but I haven't found my favorite one yet.

Mr. Husband is off on a grand quest for the perfect trampoline right now.
The kids are somewhat impatiently waiting.
I am pretty excited myself--they will have something super fun to do outside all summer!!
And I can sit at the kitchen table with my laptop and keep my eye on them through the glass back door.

I had forgotten about last night.
It was a date for hubby and I--
a celebration of his amazing performance review.
And, yes, a raise.
His boss told him that he has coined a term, "The Cameron Zone" which means a project is as good as done.
I don't think I can even express how proud I am of him.
I should probably whine a little less about getting ignored...
which brings me to our date.
As we got ready to go, he got a phone call.
He was needed.
So he had me drop him off at the customer so that I could go wander around The Gateway (this snotty little shopping district in downtown salt lake) until he was finished.
He guessed it would only be a half hour.
I was already starving, but I wanted to wait to have dinner with him...
I suck at being hungry, by the way.
I don't know if I've ever talked about that, but I have fairly sensitive blood sugar.
You don't want to run into me in a dark alley if I haven't eaten in 4 or 5 hours.
Hell, you don't even want to ask me for the time if I haven't eaten in 4 or 5 hours!
So, I know myself, and my hunger issues, so I cruised a drive through and grabbed a kids burger to tide me over.
It helped, a little.
But then I couldn't FIND the damn Gateway.
Anyone local reading this: piss off.
It's like it was goddamn Brigadoon.
(yes, I will be feeling the need to throw in theatrical references whenever possible now that I'm a reviewer of grand importance. bite my ass.)
(yes, I realize that's a link to the movie version. i'm pretty sure it was a broadway musical, but that shows how much i know...fuuuck...)
So, I finally found the stupid place, and entered a parking garage, only to spend way more quality time in the maze that is a shittily designed parking garage than I had spent with my kids all day,
and finally, blessedly, I escaped to the empty and ignored side of the underground structure.
I parked, in a huff, and headed to the shops.
As I walked, I gradually became aware that everyone was staring at me.
Ok, "became aware" is a little on the sane side: more like, "became extremely paranoid", but whatever.
Needless to say, I was not having fun.
I was lonely and hungry and my feet started to hurt.
I saw a friendly, safe place to shop: Brookstone.
I thought I could find gifts for my parents' recent birthdays, but no.
There was nothing.
I finally made me way to the far end of the shopping complex and saw, like a long lost friend--Barnes and Noble!
I bought some great books for the kids (Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, and a couple of Roal Dahls) and The Hobbit and Strunk & White's Elements of Style for myself.
Oh happy days!
It was then that Mr. Husband called to say he was finished, and that I should come and get him.
"Ha!" I said. "I don't even know where I am, let alone where the fuck the car is!"
He laughed at me, and he told me to call him when I left the store, and that he would start walking.
We met, without much trouble, and found a place to eat.
So that's when the evening got good.
And we went to the sex toy store and bought some.
(Toys, not sex.)
There was ACTUALLY a hand-penned sign, at the entrance to the "adults only" part of the shop stating, "NO BABIES PLEASE! It's the law!"
That cracked me seriously up.
No, I'm not telling you what we got.
That's private.

And now I'm watching the Dark Crystal with my kiddos...

Friday, May 05, 2006

too much jamming and pearls and such...

I'm watching a webcast of Pearl Jam's extended performance last night after their appearance on david letterman

just had to report this:
"the next song is called 'marker in the sand'. it starts to feel like church by the end; in fact, this is kind of feeling like church."
Pearl Jam Church.
yeah...they already have two members that I know of.

time to go see Jim.
CDs burned.
this should be an email, but I can't get to my eamil while watching the webcast, so suck it.
more later.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

If I had a Magic 8 Ball...

and I asked it, "Should I post?"
The answer would be, "All signs point to yes."
But I would still prefer to slouch down and shove my computer to the side and burrow deep in the smooth-soft-cool sheets.
I don't "need" more sleep, I just want it.
It's a grey-sky day, but there is still a buzzing in the air--
well, later today there will be; right now I'm just hazy
(first play to see & review).

The good news is...
the bad news is...

I have really pulled out the Spring Cleaning stops this week, folks,
and it feels damn good.
Laundry room got its ass whipped into shape, as did the boys' room.
Large garbage bags full of useless/broken/ignored toys and clothes worn out.
I can't believe how orgasmic it is for me to throw things away.
...I overuse that word, don't I?
Maybe I just have a hair trigger, ok?

I feel like I should get dressed and go take my car somewhere, just so I can listen to my new Pearl Jam CD louder and less-interupted than I was able yesterday.
But, then there's that whole bed issue...
it's singing sweet songs of me, making promises and bargains....
it wants me.

So I think I may have had the BEST dream of all times last night.
I promise it'll be entertaining, so please read--
I know some people skip dreams, so that's cool, but trust me...it's good and I'll keep it brief.
I sat down on a curb with Brittney Spears,
and very gently, very compassionately, asked her if Kevin was her first love.
She said, 'yes'.
I told her she would always love him, but that she would get over it.
I firmly told her what she already knew: that it was time to end it.
Then I tossed her my "I suck, but at least I'm good at it" tank top, and she loved it.
I said something to her which now makes me think the shirt said something a little different; I was confusing it with the "Men are Scum" T-shirt I made as a freshman in college...hee.
Anyway, it was a long and winding dream, but that was the most anecdote-worthy part.

I hope you're all having a fantastic day.
I hope I can read everyone's blogs today...it's strange how fast I can feel disconnected.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

What do I hate more than telemarketers?

Believe it or not, I actually forgot what I was going to say.
That was much faster than usual.
Oh, ok, got it.
That was much faster than usual, too.
Ok, so what I hate more than telemarketers is this:
going through a whole day without answering my comments.
It annoys the BLOODY HELL out of me.
I actually spend time thinking about it, away from the computer.
So...my apologies are sincere.

My editor called this morning.
We had a good little chat and
I am more excited than scared, now--thank gods.

New album is...
Really sounding good.
I have to hear things a couple of times before they sink in, usually, so I’m not good just yet.
I’m finishing up this paper, and then I’ll be freeeeeeee as a bird so I can focus on such things as absorbing new lyrics and rhythms and melodies into my blood stream...
I bet I’ll get a killer high if I melt the disc down and inject it...

I love how the pressure of daily stupid things just turns on and off.
It’s like a stopper in the drain from my brain.
Too much distraction equals no words.

This paper I’m writing is hilarious.
Professor TOLD me to use tons of textual evidence
(I love that word because it’s like the ‘s’ at the front had a gender change or something...it even went so far as to have that extra 't' thrown between its legs.)
and that means tons of quotes from the book, which means 5 pages turns rapidly into about 2.
Fuck her.
So I’m just typing up a bunch of relevant quotes, writing a thesis statement and a conclusion and stringing them together.
Ha. Effffin’ ha!!!!!
I am so ready for this retardationalized class to end.

I’ll bribe my kids to let me listen to PJ instead of track 2 from the Shrek soundtrack.
Actually, it’s not the soundtrack, just the songs I liked, burned.
But track 2 is the only one they’ll listen to.
On repeat.
body once told me the world is gonna roll me,
I ain’t the sharpest tool in the she-e-e-d...

Oh, I can sing the whole thing, don’t’ worry.
I can sing that fucker BACKWARDS.

(finished paper, drove to school, had fun with little ones and their...
questions and now I'm back)

Ok, so the doorbell rang earlier, and I figured it was just a package being delivered or at worst, someone selling something I didn't want.
It was waaaay better than that.
It was the milkman.
Back when the twinners were still drinking bottles, but had switched to cow's milk,
we had delivery from this amazing local dairy.
They don't use hormones on their cows, and their eggs are from grain-fed hens who are hormone free, and their bread is REAL whole wheat...not the pansy-ass "100% whole grain" fluffy shit by Sara Lee that I pretend is good for me...
We're back on board!
We stopped getting it at some point because we weren't using as much milk and the minimum order amount was too high; we didn't need it.
I've been thinking about all the utter shit we put in our bodies these days, and feeling unsettled about it, and wanting to make a change.
The Gods of My Every Whim sent an answer to my un-formed prayers.
(they're good n' psychic like that)
I am beyond excited.
My weekly order is:
one gallon 2%,
one gallon skim,
one loaf honey wheat bread
(kids won't be so easily weaned from the sara lee crap. oh well, at least it's not white!),
a 3-pack of organic romaine hearts, and
2 dozen plump and fresh and oooooo eggs.
I feel healthier already!
(yes, I'm sure you were absolutely RIVETTED by my grocery list. Suck it.)
I am truly going to try to make some changes...
I bought a day planner, man.
This is heavy.
I want to get organized--a little.
Nothing too strict, just a general framework for my day.
Summer's here, ya know.
Kids only have one more month of school
(and one week of that is testing so they're off for the whole week. blah)
and then it's
Pool time
park time
mountains time
bike time
Oh yes, it's gooood times.
Things get hectic in the summer, and lazy, at the same time.
I love it.

Souls that soar need times to rest
that's the perfect segue to this picture I took the other day.

This is the place where the mountain juts out and it sort of divides Utah county (70% mormon) from salt lake county (25%), weather wise and obviously religion wise.
It's called "Point of the Mountain" and is a major landmark hereabouts.
(I love that word)
Anyway, the little specks of color are paragliders.
I will join them some day.

Happy Day to you.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Tuesday, is it?

Ah, well.
I suppose you'll be wanting pictorial proof of my commitment to rendering this day of the week special?

I feel like writing pretty things,
but instead I must dash off a few pages about Frankenstein.
Oh well.
It’s the last assignment of the semester—woo hoo!
I am looking at classes for the fall, but everything looks too…school-ish!
Wouldn’t that be funny if I dropped out of college a second time?
I think it would be hysterical.
I have so little motivation, though!
Money was the only reason I worked before, and now I don’t need it,
so going to school in order to follow a career path seems like such a ridiculous exercise.
And then I realize the disguise of housewifery is becoming more comfortable than my own face, my own skin...
How pleasant it would be to just march through life, folding laundry and dusting shelves.
Today I cleaned out and re-organized my laundry room--
praise the jeebus!!
I've been growing steadily more annoyed with the state of that room since the fall.
We cleaned out the garage and a bunch of stuff ended up in the laundry room, sort of out of default.
(in other words, hubby said, 'everything either goes in the house, or in the trash.' grrrr.)
So, that stuff is now back in the garage where it belongs.
Hey, you don't finish your basement and have a 3 car garage and NOT put some shit out there.
Back off.
We have 2 cars and a motorcycle in there.
...I know what you're thinking.
No, it's not ours.
it's hubby's brother who's living here.
And it's a bullet bike, so it does nothing for me.
Oh, except make my lip curl a little.
I hate those things.
To me, there is nothing sexy about a bike like that.
I would probably enjoy driving one, but that's only because they go fast.

Anyway, it is officially spring cleaning season at my house.
I have the bug.
I cleaned out my kids' closet/dresser today, too.
Out with the old/too small, in with the new/too big.
I fucking HATE buying clothes for kids.
I mean, I love buying clothes--for whoever--but jeezum crow, that shit's annoying.
I swear my kids spend at least half the time between sizes,
where 5s are too small, but 6s are too big.
And they are ALWAYS too skinny for their pants.
Thank goodness Old Navy (and others) have started making adjustable waistbands with these nifty little elastic bands with buttons.
Too bad their shorts are all down to their shins and their shirts are almost to their knees.
They aren't terribly impressed, either.
Max asked me if he was wearing the 9 year old's shirt...

That reminds me!
I had the coolest experience at the 'Mart the other day.
(Wal-Mart, that is.)
I had purchased avocadoes at the previous store, the one with egggsellent produce,
but had forgotten to get a lime.
The cashier remarked on the loneliness of the lime,
and I said, "Yeah, poor thing. It doesn't even get to be drowned in Corona; it's just going into guacamole."
She went along with it and somehow I went on to tell her that if you just chop up the avocadoes and some tomatoes and a little bit of onion, then squeeze the lime over it, it's wonderful.
She said it sounded great, etc.
As an afterthought I mentioned that if you throw the pit into the bowl it'll keep the avocado green for hours and hours.
She was truly astounded and said I had made her day.
I could tell she meant it and that made my day.
I know, I know, let's all hug.
Shut up.
I love people, and the connections we make with each other every day.
Fantastic stuff.

I guess I'll get to work on that stupid paper.
Here's why I don't think I fit as an English paper:
I do not even remotely see the value, in terms of practical usage, of reading books and disecting the heart and guts and soul of them to the point of a bloody, formaldehyde-soaked messed.
Ya know?
I think I need to pretend I hate writing and ready for a little while.
Give my brain a break.
I'm scared to death to write my first review on Thursday.
My editor hasn't called yet.
He said Monday or Tuesday, but still...

I want to make out with someone in the rain.
not just kiss in the rain, but grope and press together and feel hot tongues as cold rain runs across our cheeks and into the chaos of our mouths...
clothes and hair clinging wetly to our contours.