Thursday, September 17, 2009

Bigotry in the U.S.

Okay, take a gander at the email I received today:





"USPS New 44-Cent Stamp!!! Celebrates Muslim holiday.

If there is only ONE thing you forward today... let it be this!

REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of Pan Am Flight 103!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the Marine Barracks in Lebanon !
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the military Barracks in Saudi Arabia !
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the American Embassies in Africa !
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the USS COLE!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM attack on 9/11/2001 !
REMEMBER all the AMERICAN lives that were lost in those vicious MUSLIM attacks!
Now President Obama has directed the United States Postal Service to REMEMBER and HONOR the EID MUSLIM holiday season with a new commemorative 42 Cent First Class Holiday Postage Stamp..
REMEMBER to adamantly & vocally BOYCOTT this stamp, when you are purchasing your stamps at the post office.
All you have to say is "No thank you, I do not want that Muslim Stamp on my letters!"

To use this stamp would be a slap in the face to all those AMERICANS who died at the hands of those whom this stamp honors.
REMEMBER ~pass this along to every Patriotic AMERICAN that you know and lets get the word out !!!
Here is something to chew on...
They (MUSLIMS) don't even believe in Christ, & they're getting their own Christmas stamp! BUT, don't dare to dream of posting the ten commandments on federal property! This is truly UNBELIEVABLE !!! "


Now prepare for my wrath.



First off, you seemingly incredibly-bigoted, narrow-minded, self-important muckraking, fly-off-the-handle, panic-spreading reactionists: the postal service has been printing this stamp FOR YEARS! Note the picture above…when postage was 33 cents. So your muckraking Obama-bashing on this is completely off the mark. Your Republican-hero past presidents ALSO "directed" this stamp released, every year. THIS HOLIDAY IS ALREADY BEING COMMEMORATED, and has been for YEARS! Our President is not “directing” anything!

In simple fact, this stamp is gorgeous, and I have purposefully purchased them for my Christmas cards for the last two years, to contribute to the holiday ideal of a peaceful and loving holiday season.

You have taken patriotism to the lowest possible level, to the point where it is no longer patriotism but full-out, undeniable BIGOTRY! I, for one, am in NO WAY this kind of “American”…I even go so far as to say that your reactionary bigotry is UN-American. Yes, that is what I said. UN-American. And, judging from your final lines, I think I can safely say you are also incredibly and undeniably UN-Christian, as well.

Most sane people are able to remember the TERRORIST bombings and attacks. They were awful and horrendous and insane…but generalizing that all Muslims are, or agree with, the terrorist factions is pure hatred and insane bigotry loosely and poorly disguised as patriotism…and THAT is a large part of what is wrong with America today, folks.

Americans are no more holy or learned or “right” than any other country, and Christians are no more holy or learned or “right” than any other religion’s adherents. What incredible hubris it is, to begin with, for any human to think they know what God wants or would do or thinks, and to presume to take His wrath into their own hands through word or deed!

People having different religious views from yours is not a crime. People not believing in your god does not mean that they are lesser, or wrong, or evil. All religions, all holidays, all celebrations of faith are equally valid, and should be equally respected as the celebrations of faith and hope and love that they are. God is sure as hell not nearly as judgmental as you people are…at least you had better HOPE not, since your path is one of darkness and hatred, and completely oversteps the boundaries that any god has set up for his followers to begin with!

By the way, the Eid stamp is NOT a CHRISTMAS stamp. It is a HOLIDAY stamp, which is why it comes out with the Christmas, winter, and Kwanzaa stamps. And I will probably buy them again this year…partly because of your outrageous email, to be honest.

By the way, I do not want the ten commandments posted, either…and I am not Muslim!Christianity is NOT the only religion in the world…nor should it be.

So chew on THAT!

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

August 28th Doings




Being in the car accident at the end of June not only reminded me what a gift it is to NOT have to be sedentary, but also gave me a lot of time to read. With my newfound limits, a lot of books didn't get finished--my limit being, "You are 40. If a book does not make you want to finish it by page 40, let it go and move on." Quite a few books got let go, which was good for my towering bookshelf, even if it did not make much visible difference!


Thanks to a huge fine on my library card from letting my daughter check out books on it, I skipped the library most of the summer. Last week I finally paid the $20 fine. Today, August 28th, I left the house, which is irritating me near to the point of violent acting-out---I could FEEL myself about to start throwing shit--and went to the library. There were books on hold for me, to go with the books I checked out last week, and I decided if I could get to a quiet, preferably windowside table, I would treat myself to reading. Just reading. In the cool library, as it was hot out already at 11a.m., surrounded by books. Surrounded by books is one of my favorite places to be, in the entire universe, ever.


So, I put on jeans that don't really match my orangey tank, my pretty orange flowered shoes, and slapped my favorite sun hat onto my head to hide my greasy hair. These things combined--not matching, not caring to wash my hair--should tell those of you who know me exactly how irritated I had become...I never do not match in public. Ever. And rarely in provate. (To my credit, the hat goes with the tank well, and the tank goes well with the shoes, although the hat and the flowered shoes together?...not so much. And these jeans with the bling on the pockets--not really with anything. But they are clean. But, I digress...


I ran to the post office to mail off my Netflix. I got cash. I got to the library at 10:40, parked in the only-locals-know-this-is-free parking lot next to the library, under one of the library trees---I love trees---and started reading, waiting for the library to open at 11. Grayson by Lynne Cox.


There was less of a homeless population than usual waiting to snatch up the tables for a nap inside today. I got the books I had on hold, and found one of the best seats in the library---it faces city hall and overlooks a nice little corner of benched landscaping, and is shielded by a large maple tree that sits out from it on the parking. I love this tree because not only is it taller than the building, but it has thrived even though they have paved and added more cement around it until it's 7' x 18" patch is the only dirt around (until they landscaped under the windows of course), but the tree itself is still surrounded on all sides by lifeless concrete. City Hall has a yard, and lots of trees, so it's a good view. Very green. The only seat better than this is the corner one, but it's closer to an intersection, too---more traffic noise.


So, I got "my table", and kept reading Grayson. By 12:26, I had finished it, feeling a little misty and a lot jealous of the author. Grayson is about a baby gray whale and a swimmer, a true story that took place when the author was 17, over just a few hours of her life, and it ends happily. No one dies, no one is hurt, there are no guns or murder or lawyers or pain and suffering to a large degree. Sitting in the library, it did not make me cry with happiness; at home, alone, however, it may have. It made me want to go to the beach. It made me want to start life over and work for the Marine Mammal Center. It made me wish I could swim well enough to ocean swim. And it reminded me of a few very important things about living a full life, and being connected to the Universe.


It's a short book (only 147 pages), a quick read, and you should all read it. All of you, yes. Read it to your kids, too. Give it to everyone you know for their birthdays. I am not kidding. I myself am going to go out and buy my own copy, and put it in the place of honor on my bookshelf, next to Harold and the Purple Crayon, The Eight, and Mists of Avalon. And I fully plan to reread it at least once a year. And go whale-watching at least every two years for the rest of my life. Maybe even be nicer to my daughter's hellbound cat. Maybe.


I came home after an older hippie man, smelling of smoke and dirt, sat down to share the table with me at the library. Steve. Very polite. Introduced himself. Asked if he could give me his number. I nicely said no. Bet the VW van parked down from me was his, too.


Traded my jeans for my comfy sushi-print pants (which still don't match my tank), made some fries, read all night...sometimes, despite all the negative, life is good.





Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Long Time, No See


Well, hello there. I am back, talking to myself, most probably, but here I am...my own little corner of cyberspace, which I have been neglecting for a long time now.


Let's just chalk it all up to life getting a little...difficult...for awhile, and move on.


Yes, the jellyfish is still squishing...

I do not want to dwell on the difficulties, so let me just summarize (I am sure I will want to talk about it in more depth someday, but this is not that day):

*April 15: turned 40. Not happily. I am not fond of 40 yet.

*June 28th: Car accident. Rear ended by woman who never touched brakes until after she hit me. Car totalled. Me hurt. Daughter spared, aside from a 24 hour headache.

*June-July: Both car parties have same insurance company; I still get screwed (by my OWN insurance company, yes.

*Late July: Get financed on a used 2007 Kia Spectra. Silver. Boring. But necessary. Also got lawyer.

*August 1-present: Severe life dissatisfaction. In search of...what? Still trying to figure that out.


There ya go. Nutshelled.

I've been watching a lot of Netflix this summer. (That happens when you can't sit upright for very long.) I've watched so much...shit. Truly, there were two weeks where everything I watched was crappy. Except The Closer. That's a fun show.

But NOW...now I find, surprisingly, that I REALLY enjoy Sons of Anarchy. Why does this surprise me? Well, first, I do not look like a biker babe, or anyone who would ever be someone's Old Lady, as far as I can tell. Secondly, I will never be a big fan of illegal activities, killing, gun running, or drugs, which are the basic activities in the show, to be honest. But I like the show anyway. Well, yes, Ron Perlman IS a god, Hellboy makeup or not, so there is that. He is actually the reason I watched the first disc. But now I find that I genuinely LIKE the show, despite everything about the plot that I would seem diametrically opposed to. I've run through the first two discs of season one already, and must say, I am truly getting a good and cathartic release from the violence...what's not to like about tossing a stalker through a plate glass window, I ask you? Besides...they blow shit up a lot. As long as it isn't reality, I love watching things blow up.

So, there ya go. My first venture back into my blog.

It ain't exciting, but it's a start.








Monday, March 16, 2009

Friends With Benefits

First, allow me to be up-front: I have had a few male FWBs.

Now, maybe it is just because I never paid attention, or maybe it is just because I really just wanted what I thought was the affection of these arrangements, but either way, I have come to some realizations recently about the state of FWB.

I do not think they are sustainable, especially if you have a strong moral and ethical fiber and actually WANT someone to grow old with at some point.

Hear me out. I have some experience here.

First, what I have come to see as the BASIC problem...men and women do NOT, AT ALL, define things the same way. The definitions are different for all of the the following terms: Friends, With, and Benefits.

Let us break it down:

Friends- Men and women do not treat their friends the same way, even without Benefits. To men, a FWB friend means he does not have to call, answer calls, remember birthdays, pretend to know a woman in public, take her anywhere at all, or tell anyone about her existence. To women, that is not ANY kind of friendship at all.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Dichotomy of Me



I am a puzzle...wrapped up in an enigma blahblahblah...


  • I am right-handed...and I play pool left-handed.
  • I am very learned in grammar...and I make up words.
  • I am very grounded...but I daydream constantly.
    I love all animals...but I truly hate my daughter's cat.
  • I love tattoos...but I have none.
  • I have solid self-esteem...but I dislike most pictures of myself.
  • I have an artistic, non-linear, free-for-all personality...but when my mind is frazzled and confused, I do Find-A-Word puzzles in a strict, methodical, regimented way.
  • I adore makeup...but I do not wear it very often.
  • I love seeing movies in the theater...but I only go if someone else takes me.
  • I have a positive outlook...but sometimes I am absolutely certain that the world is both already in hell and positively irredeemable.
  • I love the beach, even in winter...but I rarely go.
  • I am proud of my life, but also prone to POFFs: Profound Overwhelming Feelings of Failure.






























Monday, February 23, 2009

Joints...(no, not that kind...)


Hello again.

It's been raining here in the Bay area for almost 24 hours now...again...
I like rain, now that I used my Super Secret Skillz to change the flow of the drainspout on my "house". Although my pug, Emme, does NOT like rain. I barely get her outside to pee, and only if I go ALL the way out with her!, and she saves up her poop for later. (Thankfully, this morning my daughter came upon her doodie gift first, so she had to clean it up.)

But this is not really the point. Get to the Mowie Wowie, maaan, I hear you saying...

Wrong joints, dude.

I have been noticing, increasingly this month, that...my body is acting OLD. There is no other word to use. OLD.
This is SO WRONG.
I am not even 40 yet! (Not til April anyhow.)
But literally every joint in my body aches. Almost all the time. I remember when I was little and achy joints and being affected by cold were things I associated with my great-grandma...and now...here I am. But she was in her 90s at the time!...I am 39. I live in a relatively mild climate. And my body feels like it is disintegrating.
One friend keeps throwing the word "arthritis" around, because she has had it for quite awhile now.
All I know is that my visits to the doctor every June come out okay...but my body hurts like I am old and decrepit.
So, I try to better my health. I take my vitamins. I just started some glucosomine/chondroitin supplements. I drink more water, and I TRY to make myself exercise---when my joints don't hurt so much it is a struggle to stand up from the couch after 10 minutes!
My left knee is also marfed up...I can feel a tendon? muscle? something flip like a
rubber band in it when I bend it. VERY disturbing.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE OLD!
I want to magically change time in the world, as follows: I think you should only have to be as old as you LOOK.
I would only have to be about 27-30, I am told. That was waaay before I started hurting like THIS!
My 60+ mom could be 50 again!
My 70 year old dad...well...still 70. Sorry, Dad...it was the booze and cigs, I'm thinking.
My daughter...crap. Most days she would be 18. I can't have that!
Anyway...
I was not upset with 30. (But I did freak out at 31.)
I am not so upset about the number 40 itself.
I do not feel that I am old yet, as I turn 40.
In fact, when I see Facebook ads about "such n such is pushing 40 but looks 28!", I get offended. Where is she pushing it TO, exactly? And why does 40 seem like a death threat in advertising? I am a more complete and intelligent and loving and together human now than I have ever been, all things considered.
But my body feels like I am already old.
But I don't think that is about a NUMBER...I think that is about something altogether different.
And as hard as I try, I still don't feel old.
But some nights when it gets chilly, I still almost wish I had a walker.


Friday, February 20, 2009

I haven't blogged in awhile. Not because I have nothing to say, but because I find there are periods of life where nothing but negativity comes out when I attempt to express myself or look on that elusive "bright side" people like to harp upon. So, I've just kept my mouth shut, aside from a few very frustrated remarks on Facebook.
When it comes right down to it, here's the deal:
I chose to have a child "out of wedlock", even after the father left me, and chose to rear said child alone anyway. (I did the right thing. I will never regret her. EVER.)
BUT this meant a great deal of letting go of dreams and hopes for the future I HAD planned. What I had planned became irrelevant as soon as I decided against an abortion.
The future I planned was NOT the following: to raise a child on welfare, and then without welfare when I had a job that was "too well-paying" for assistance, but not well-paying enough to make ends meet. I did not plan to be 39 and still borrow money from my parents, knowing that THEY aren't made of money themselves, especially with one of them retired. I did not plan to have no savings, ever. (Okay, I exaggerated: I HAVE a savings account...it has $.011 in it, and I have held onto that balance for 9 months at least. Rah, sis boom bah.) I did not plan to have bills I cannot pay, no matter how much I plan to be and want to be financially responsible. I did not plan to have to choose between gas to go to work and bouncing the rent check, or bouncing the rent to be able feed my child at the end of the month, and paying the bank fees out of the NEXT check if I can get them to pay on the check anyway. (Which they no longer will, regardless. But they USED to do it for me. Why not? It benefitted them to the tune of at least a hundred dollars a month! Desperate poeple are GREAT for business!)
I was SO THRILLED in January because I ended up with $17 left in my checking account for gas, to hold me over until my check got deposited on the 2nd. $17 versus being overdrawn---I practically wanted to have a party to celebrate my success! I was SO proud.
Oh but wait...car registration of $212.00, due January 12, paid a month late out of necessity. So, really...$17 counts for nothing.
And before anyone starts harping on my money-management skills: to manage, one must HAVE money. If you looked at my balance sheet, you would wonder how the hell we eat after the most necessary bills DO get paid...and that's just bills for the car and a roof over our heads. And, yes, I DO live the cheapest accomodations possible for two people.
Sorry, but I have heard it all, folks. All the "It MUST be your fault!" BS, all the "It must be YOU that is the problem in the equation!" BS, the "YOU must be doing something wrong!" BS...
Ahem...back to what I was saying...
All the things people list to me as things we can do without, we already don't have: we don't have cable; we don't even have TV reception anyhow because we would need cable to get a signal where we live. We don't have cell phones that we pay for; my daughter is 15 and the only one of her friends without one, and I only have one because my boss pays for it, and rumor has it that THAT arrangement is going to end as well, so we won't have one at all, as I cannot afford to put any money toward one. We don't eat out. We don't buy expensive or unnecessary groceries, or presents for friends' birthdays or Christmas gifts. We don't get our nails done, our hair cut, or go to the eye doctor or dentist regularly. We only go to the doctor if we are so sick it is impossible to carry on with our daily lives over for a week. Our internet connection is through our basic phone service, which does not include long distance. Long distance calls to my mom get made on that cell phone that will be disappearing soon. No one else gets called. Ever. Even my mom knows to leave a message that ends in, "Don't call me back! I will call YOU back!" I do not have a retirement account or investments. I do not have a college account for my daughter for college...although I guess I could give her the $0.11 savings. If she isn't bright and lucky enough to get assistance to go, I cannot send her. And yes, that DOES make me feel like a failure.
And guess what, folks? I work a full time 9-5 job, and get paid what amounts to a good administrative salary in this area of the country.
And the ends still do not meet. Ever.
And, yes, I AM grateful to HAVE a job in this economy. I KNOW people are getting laid off left and right. I KNOW how hard things are. But I have to tell ya: I saw a blurb about how this "new, lower-standard" of living we are in may last for awhile...and I LAUGHED. I literally laughed until I cried, because THIS IS NOT NEW FOR ME! I HAVE BEEN LIVING LIKE THIS FOR MOST OF 15 YEARS! People are having to sell their boats and their second cars and take pay cuts and not go to movies or eat out as much? PUH-LEEZE! Jesus Christ...I cannot even imagine such a GOOD reality for my life.
Done ranting. Don't bother to leave bitchy comments...shitting on people at the very bottom of the societal ladder is just cruel.

Friday, February 13, 2009

WHOOHOO ME!


I am SO giving myself BIG KUDOS in my own blog today!

I am so proud of myself, even though I bitch about it...


It's amazing, it's stupendous, it's life-changing!...


Yes, IT IS TRUE!...



I am drinking SO MUCH MORE WATER, it is shocking to me!


I started at the beginning of the month, deciding I had to take all my vitamins, pills, etc. with water from then on out. (And I have daily meds and vitamins, so, that was a good place to start.)




Then last week, I decided I had to drink a big ole cup of water between my Cherry Pepsis at work.

No matter what.




One day this week, I actually drank more water than Pepsi.


I can see a difference already...my skin's better. I sleep better.






Of course, I also have to pee all the damn time,

but that's just how it is when your body gets healthy, I guess.



I'm 39 and 10/12ths years old...and I am finally drinking water.




I feel like such a Water Goddess...








And I'm sure I will eventually start LIKING drinking water...right?


Friday, February 6, 2009

Iowa

I just joined (another) Iowa group on Facebook. There's a thread about what people assume and say about Iowa and Iowans that piss us off.
So I thought about it...

I live in California now, going on eight years.
I get the Potato State thing a lot. I have learned to just say, "No, corn." They usually respond, "Ooooh yeah! Isn't that over in the east somewhere?" I tell them to check just off-center of any U.S. map.

People also seem to assume that everything in Iowa is tiny...including cities. "You had THREE malls? In IOWA?! No way!" Yep, and that was only in Des Moines, not Iowa overall. I now live in Santa Cruz, which is SMALLER than Des Moines, the capital city, where I grew up. (One mall, by the way. For Santa Cruz AND its suburbs and surrounding towns!)


Also, the farm assumption. I have had to tell even my closest friends here that NO, I did not grow up on a farm, and the only time I was on one was when I went home with someone who did, in college; they are somewhat shocked and aghast.




There has also been surprise that we have so many colleges, and that they are not tiny and backward places, but places where you can actually LEARN and go on to live a good and productive life!


Also that we have art and museums and botanical centers and libraries and shopping and even things NOT about covered bridges!




I have actually read a few books where they say things like, "...the Tony awards...and in case you live in Iowa and have no idea what those are..." and stupid things like that. It makes me sad that the writers need someone to belittle to make them feel good.
I think that it embarrasses people to think that not everyone WANTS to be New York or California....like Iowa must be SO hick because they don't WANT a huge crowded mass of immoral, self-serving people crowded together. (No offense to the PEOPLE of NY and L.A., but c'mon...that's all we hear about...and now that I live in California, I can tell you: most of it is justified.)
I have taken to telling people that Iowa is an AWESOME place to raise kids: that we grow up moral and kind, polite and friendly, educated, and less screwed-up in general, and just NICE...and then we go out into the rest of the world and spread it around.



I do not get annoyed anymore, after all these years. I chock it up to other people's arrogance and lack of knowledge about the country they live in.

I, like most Iowans of my generation, I think, wanted OUT of Iowa in adulthood. I finally left, child in tow, at 31. And y'know what? I am thinking I might just move back.

There is something to be said for a decent, affordable standard of living, thunderstorms, fresh produce, and the Andersen-Erickson Dairy. And you cannot get a better tenderloin than you can get in Iowa. DAMN, I tell ya! Pork and beef ,(not to mention corn), there are the best in the world, bar none. And Iowa is SO GREEN! And you get people who are, more often than not, genuinely NICE and helpful and accepting of others. And y'know what else? I am PROUD to have been raised in Iowa.
I miss it.
If it had an ocean, I probably never would have left.

Finally, a little bit o'joy in the morning!


Now, as much as I joke about my daughter the TEENAGER (insert scary zombie movie music here), she really is NOT a bad kid. Bad for her is not the same as bad for anyone else I know...I DO realize that. I worked hard to get her to this point, and it IS paying off...Like me, Genevieve is NOT a morning person. In fact, we are both of the notion that commerce and such should not start until noonish.


SO, here is the first truly joyous and unexpected morning we have had in YEARS.Happened this morning:

Her cat woke me up at 4 a.m., howling next to my bed...for the second morning in a row. I closed her out of my room, and tried to go back to sleep. MY cat started buggin me at 6. (Note: the alarm does not go off until 7.) Kicked her out too. The pug, wisely, values sleep as much as me and Genevieve, and so went back to bed with me. (None of this is the joy....wait for it.)Genevieve got up early to take a shower. I heard her do it. SO, my alarm goes off at 7, and I ignore it for ten minutes.


But, y'know...the bladder. SO, I get up, blearly-eyed and cotton-brained from the 4 and 6 a.m. wakeup calls by pets who obviously WANT to have their lives ended, and I go into the bathroom and while the dog and I are sitting there (she follows me EVERYWHERE, people...and that early in the morning, I do not care), and suddenly my nose wakes up. What is that smell?! Maybe Genevieve made herself cup o'noodle for breakfast, cuz it smells like FOOD, and that just does NOT happen in our house in the morning.


So we toddle on out to the "Feed me, bitch!" howls of the cats, and...

It will be a shock...


My daughter, clad in a bathrobe and with her hair still in a towel, says, in a cheerful voice (which I never hear before noon usually!), "Good morning, Momma! I made you EGGS!"

I'm sorry...what?


I rub my eyes, and squint at her, and she babbles, "I was up early, and I watched Brianna make fried eggs yesterday at her house, so...I made you eggs! If they are bad, you don't have to eat them, it's my first time, and I won't be mad.You'll also notice there are SIX eggs missing, and you and I only have two eggs each..."


I'm sorry--are those happy, full sentences coming out of this child at 7:15a.m.?! Where is Rod Serling?


"Buuuut...my first egg like folded itself into an accordian so that was no good. And the second one I dropped on the floor so...yeah. The cats were all over that one, but I stopped them!"


Ooookay. Is my child on drugs?


"So, you go ahead and take the dog out, and I'll put your plate in the microwave so the cats don't get it!"

Ummmm...okay.


Of course, it is raining outside, so the dog is very UNwilling to do her thing so I can get back to this thing I think is called..."breakfast?" So, a good five minutes later, I'm back. Genevieve is nowhere to be found (which means she has gone to her scary room), so I think maybe I DID imagine it, and I feed the animals.And then I open the microwave.


It's true. A plate. With two eggs and two pieces of toast. Perfect toast. Waiting to made into the perfect egg sandwich.


I am now awake. Shock will do that to a body, even at 7 a.m.


So I sit on the couch and eat my eggs and toast. The dog comes to make sure I don't drop any. I don't. Aside from the fact that my mom always made runny-yolk fried eggs, and these are completely fried, I must say...damn good. A little cold. Not her fault.


Genevieve comes out as I am eating the last few bites. I had TRIED to savor the meal and go slow, but...it was too good. And surprising. I ate like they were going to disappear.


"Mom, are they okay? If they aren't okay, don't eat them, it's OKAY."

"No, they are wonderful. Thank you. I appreciate them very much!"

"Really? Cuz it's okay. Did you feed that to the dog?"

"OH hell no, I did not feed that to the dog. It's good. I'm eatin it all myself."

"Really? Cuz it's my first time, so tell me if something is bad."

"Uhuh"

"Oh good!"


And then, she hits me with it. The coup de grace. The killing stroke.


"I've decided I am going to cook a LOT more, cuz I mean, you dont LIKE to cook, and I DO, so...you buy the food, I'll cook it for you."


I'm sorry...I think I feel an aneurism coming on...repeat that?


So, I say the only thing I can think of..."Cool. Does that mean you'll make those red velvet cupcakes tonight then?"

"Well, I don't get home from that dance performance until...well I dont know, it doesn't start until 7:30, so I dont know if I'll be back in time, but I'll make them Saturday. And when I DO get back tonight, we'll have ice cream sundaes!"


I can HEAR my eyelids blinking...plink.plink.plink.

Okay.

I immediately have to text the friends I text. One has a teenager (well, he is 20 NOW) from hell, and one is a teacher. I get great hoorays from the former; she tells me "There is a human in there with a big heart under all the alien teenager. Awwwww thats more than awesome!" The latter: that's great. What does she want from you?heh heh


Now, last night I DID just cobble together every ounce of cash I had so the child could go to said dance performance with her friends tonight, BUT...her usual modus operandi is to get what she wants and turn grumpy and unappreciative again immediately. And she IS a generally free child...unless I have a reason, she does get to do what she wants to, after homework, chores, responsibilities held up...she IS poor, but she also DOES get to choose her life for the most part.


So, I am neither getting my hopes up that she WILL cook a lot, nor downplaying the proposed gift I see the offer as. I mean, this IS the child who whined because I asked her to make a Cup o' Noodle for ME, too, when she made herself one last week...BUT she is also a really great kid, with a wonderful heart.


So, I decided that, just for today, I would live in the moment and appreciate the hell out those eggs she made me.

And I do.

I SO do.
And from now on, I am keeping the freezer stocked with bacon...just in case she does it again. Bacon would make it even better.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Health Class Day 2


Yesterday was talk-about-sex day. My daughter had not had such a good day at school, and I had to beg and wheedle to hear about health, but she gave in. She even read me her notes.

Basically, they talked about what sex is, definitionally-speaking. And then they talked about the difference between "making love" and fucking, which "he calls PORN". (She even wrote "PORN!" next to the list in her notes.) Making love, of course, dealt with commitment and relationship and responsibility and deeper feelings than physical ones. Fucking/PORN! was pretty much the opposite.

I asked my daughter if the guys in the class were upset at the teacher blowing all their lies/lines out of the water in his talks, and she said the guys don't say much of anything...she suspects they are just trying to concentrate on NOT getting erections during class, since the teacher admitted that males can get erections for any old thought that pops into their heads, unbidden, at anytime. I think the guys are now afraid the girls are looking to see if they have hard-ons all the time! (They aren't--the girls are actually participating in the discussions more than checkin out the boys.)

I didn't tell her that particular challenge stays with them forever, and that I suspect men have to fight that battle until the day they die!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Bored...

Wow, I am completely bored right now. And I really have nothing to say. I seem to have finished all my tasks, and need to go find more to do. My boss #2 brought me a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Frapp with whip (ALWAYS with whip for ME!) and I am happily guzzling it down and calling it lunch. I actually ate my lunch at 10:17 a.m., because I had taken all my meds and vitamins and had a stomach ache, so I needed to throw something digestable at it. Which is fine, because I have to go buy cat food and yogurt for my stomach during my lunch hour anyhow. Well, YOGURT for my stomach and cat food for our cats, who I gave a dish of cat treats this morning for breakfast, as I underestimated the amount of food they had left, and found it a teensy-tiny amount. Fastest they had ever eaten, though! Musta been yummier than the food usually is. And it kind of bothers me that I had to write myself a postie to remind myself about the cat food and the yogurt. I am not old enough yet to have a failing memory. I think my memory is just lazy...but I still remember most things in pinpoint-accurate detail without trying. That made the drunken college days more painful--other people could forget their stupidity...I NEVER forgot mine. Oh! I have to pee! Finally, something new to do!

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Hello, my name is Chelle...and I am a Glass Junkie



Hello, my name is Chelle...and I am a Glass Junkie...I admit my inability to shake this disease on my own...and I turn myself over to my Higher Power to get me through, and to stop me from stalking Dale Chihuly and like-minded artists...ahem...I mean...

I just found out that someone I went to college with (and his lovely wife who I have never met, but am sure is awesome) is a glass artist now! I am jonesing to buy some of their pretties, despite the fact that I know my financials will not allow it. Maybe for my 40th birthday in April...hmmm...yeeeeessss...perhaps then...

You should go see his website: http://www.sigwarthglass.com/
I have no qualms a'tall putting in a pitch for them...their glass is GORGEOUS!!!!
You should all go see for yourselves, though. It totally rocks.
Sorry I can't give you a peek, but I didn't tell him I was going to rave about him in my little blog, so...GO NOW!

UPDATE! Douglas and Renee Sigwarth generously allowed me to upload these pics, which I think are two of the finest pieces I have seen (and I am think it's very cool that these are the ones I would have picked too!) I admit it: I want to own these two myself. Admit it---you want them, too. You really want them. You should have them. You DESERVE THEM! Go forth and SHOOOOOPPPPPP!



------------>I ADORE THIS!
The watercolor series is SO PRETTY!

High School Health Class


I just have to share with y'all this story about my daughter's health teacher.

First, yesterday was her first day of health class, and she is in there with, as she puts it, "JUNIORS and sophomores, and girls who have already lost their virginity!", so she is a little uneasy, as she is none of those things.


I cannot for the life of me recall the teacher's NAME right now, but he is a HOOT!


1. He told them that he didn't really wanna teach Health, but he has to, which I think is a great admission.

2. He cusses (not AT anyone---he is like me and uses cuss the same way---as emphasis) and tells them not to cuss, which is so ME that it makes me laugh.

3. Words of wisdom that have come from his mouth already: I paraphrase:

"Girls! Boys WILL LIE to you! What they want is your vagina! I LOVE YOU means 'I want your vagina!' "

"And 'friends with benefits'? You are NOT in a relationship! What that means is he can do whatever he wants, and then call you up and say, 'I want your vagina! Bring your vagina over here now!' "

"Tomorrow is going to be X-rated. We are going to close the blinds and the door, and hope [principal's name] doesn't come around. We're gonna talk sex."


My daughter now has a favorite teacher...it is HIM.

And honestly...it sounds like her health teacher is just a male version of her mother...I can't wait for the next recounting of her day!

I MUST meet this man soon.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Scary Food Thoughts

not my actual meal ---->

Okay, it disturbs me when my microwave meal has "Real Fruit Dessert!" emblazoned on the box, especially in a prominent position. It sends a flurry of intimidating thoughts through my head, like: Does that mean that all the microwave meals that don't say that are made with FAKE fruit? Because I used to have a play kitchen with pots and pans and fake fruit (the banana was my favorite...let's not psychoanalyze that, please), and I have to say, it really was NOT that tasty, and impossible to peel. And if the other meals DO contain fake fruit, how on earth did they get those things peeled and chopped, when I couldn't even chew through mine?! And does fake fruit have ANY nutritional value at all, or is it just a freebie, calorie-wise? And what IS the correct number of times to chew your food in that case?


And while I am here, I think we should start a worldwide campaign to increase the dessert portions, even of fake fruit desserts, because that IS the best-tasting part of every microwave meal. AND they should add desserts to their breakfasts, too. (People, I'm from Iowa...you ALWAYS HAVE DESSERT WITH YOUR MEALS! It's a genetic imperative!)


But now that I look at my meal, I am wondering about there being no "Real Meat Entree!" on the box. I could be eatin' someone's Chihuahua and not know...it would still be a healthy choice, as they are small and not too full of fat...


And these green beans are lookin' a tad unreal, as well...

But I need the fake vs. real question cleared up first...


Screw it. It's back to peanut butter and jelly for me, starting tomorrow...


Monday, January 26, 2009

What I Wanted to Be When I Grew Up


Mom. Married. Teacher. Novelist. Ballerina. Actress. Ballerina. Vet. Children's Book Author. Singer. Ballerina. Doctor. Professor. Archaeologist. Theatre Designer. Painter. Midwife. Coroner. Vet Tech. Marine Biologist. Crime Scene Cleaner. Well-off.

What I Am at 39:
Mom. 9 to 5er. Queen of Spreadsheets.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

From Sept. 07


BOOBS!

Now, first off....I LIKE my daughter's school. I think they are good educators and decent, caring people overall.
But that does not change the following:

I DARE the school to suspend my daughter for showing a bra strap.

How ridiculous is it to suspend girls because "bra straps distract the boys"?
Fact of life: pubescent boys notice boobs! Always. Everywhere. FOREVER!
Our girls could wear full-on loose fishermen's sweaters...BOYS WOULD STILL LOOK AT, AND THINK ABOUT, BOOBS!
Boys do not NEED to SEE straps to be thinking about boobs! Boys are distracted because boobs EXIST!

There is a difference between dressing like a hoochie and having a bra strap show. To punish a teenage girl (whose self esteem is already shaky, thanks to the world we live in) for being smart enough to realize they need to wear a bra is ridiculous. The flat chested ones can wear spaghetti straps...or anything...as long as there are no bra straps showing?! It's discriminating against girls who are more advanced, biologically speaking.

I guarantee---girls with breasts (which is most of them, I may add) are more distracting WITHOUT BRAS!

I've worked very hard my daughter's entire life to engender her with strong self-esteem. Being a teenager is confusing and uncertain enough without having a school turn around and interrupt a girl's schooling and put a suspension on their educational record for NOT letting their boobs flop all over; for wearing a bra and GASP! having a strap show at school!

Setting Puritanical rules to try to prevent biological givens is NOT helping anyone.
And it is punishing our GIRLS, who have less equality in America to begin with!
Undermine girls' self worth some more, please!....thanks for your "help" in raising secure, responsible, intelligent children.

From what I hear, all the kids, male AND female, think the rule is BS.
And guess what? I pay taxes and write out my checks to the school and I vote...and I THINK IT IS BULLSHIT TOO!

I am SO glad this is a more pressing issue than giving our children AN ACTUAL DECENT EDUCATION!
How about, instead of walking around on the lookout for bra straps, you educate our children in a way that will help them to succeed in the world?
Stop wasting my tax dollars, and my time, and MY DAUGHTER'S EDUCATION!

So, I dare you to do it to my daughter. I'll be so far up the school district's ass I'll need a full body HAZMAT decontamination when I am done.

Very Cool

THINGS I THINK ARE COOL:

*The way pelagic rays' backs feel, all soft and velvety, and how they look when they swim---like flying.
*Wintergreen lifesavers
*Shakespeare's plays---regardless of who did or did not write them.
*My mom. I was informed by old friends that she was ALWAYS the cool mom---I just didn't realize it.
*Anyone who survives their child's teenage years without beating them senseless. Also, a kid who survives their teenage years without raising a hand against their parents.
*Jellyfish. They just ARE.
*Cherry Pepsi
*Color copiers
*The smells of Crayolas and of PlayDoh (Did you know they make a PlayDoh scented perfume? Saw it in a catalog.)
*Sand Dollar skeletons
*Naps
*How in Hawaii and San Diego you can watch the sun set into the ocean; as opposed to Santa Cruz, where it usually sets into a cliff, so you miss most of the end.
*My daughter. She cracks me up.
*My boss
*Toads and fat tree frogs
*Education
*Trees
*Muenster cheese
*Lip gloss
*The sound of thunderstorms
*the Discovery Channel
*Converse tennies
*Pluto----I miss Pluto.
*Sand around my feet
*My bestest Jellyfish, Shelia
*Telepathy
*Orcas
*The smell of new books, and very old ones.
*Fingernail polish
*Comfy pants
*The feel of the top of my desk at work
*Birds singing, especially the mourning doves that hang out at our house
*Riding the waves in a speedy boat in Maryland, and then watching the jellies fluoresce behind us
*Finding the perfect gift for someone
*Paying the bills and still being able to afford groceries or a night at the movies
*Kiwi Strawberry Snapple
*Kevin Smith ("My Boring-Ass Life" Read it now!)
*Wrigley's Extra Melon gum (Only available in China---you can stop looking for it. And Wrigley's said NO, they will NOT make it for us, and that I should have my Chinese friends send it to me from overseas if I want more. Geez!)
*Pictures of my mom when she was young
*The fact that two of my exes actually work in theatre. (Although I am also very very jealous of that fact.)
*Close up photos of flowers.
*When my cat sucks her thumb.
*Pretty Kleenex boxes.
*Watching otters break open their food on their bellies
*Quilts
*Saving Jane---both albums
*Bread
*Having somewhere to post my brain vomit like this...

Not Cool

THINGS I DO NOT THINK ARE COOL:

*Mendacity (look it up, or watch Cat On a Hot Tin Roof---the Newman-Taylor one is best)
*Throwing poo--literally AND figuratively
*A wasted education
*Abuse
*People who pull into the wrong lane when turning corners. (Are ya TRYING to kill us?!)
*Boozed up potheads. Or potted boozeheads.
*Drivers on the highway who refuse to let people merge. (I'm outta lane here, bud! Are ya TRYING to make ME kill us?!)
*Leering men who catcall and whistle at women and girls
*Bra strap regulations
*Genevieve's cat (Thank the gods she is pretty!)
*That all my neighbors speak Spanish and I don't.
*That lip balm is never the same once it goes melty, even if you refrigerate it
*Just lookin to hook-up
*Guns
*Waking up feeling old
*A bruised meniscus
*That my parents are getting old. It doesn't seem right, somehow.
*These Japanese green tea wafer cookies we have at work. More tasteless snot and cardboard, please?
*Kids growing up too fast and furious
*Adults NOT growing up
*United States consumer society
*Metal paperclips
*My snap peas died once I took them out of the pot and put them in the ground
*That the world revolves around using blue or black ink. How limiting...
*Soduko. Or Sudoko. Or however the hell it is spelled.
*Telephones
*"Medicinal marijuana". Please, people...who's zoomin' who? (Subject to change if I ever get cancer.)
*Having to work full time to still not make ends meet
*Another Japanese cookie I just ate...that tasted like crispy burnt toast. On purpose, I am guessing.
*Debt
*Not having a dog. There is even a tree outside that kinda looks like a dog. Kinda.
*Unkindness
*Kicking Pluto out of the planetary lineup
*Chihuahuas, in general.

Oh, Yoda...

Ancient Wisdom? No, TIMELESS Wisdom!
Current mood: contemplative

I have been reading and listening to a lot of ancient wisdoms lately.
And, guess what? They all say pretty much the same thing, regardless of time or location or "belief":

Live honestly
Live with compassion
Live Truth
Be good to the Earth

It mystifies me that the human race as a whole cannot grasp this, no matter which peoples they hear it from.
This is not difficult, folks.
But to transform the universe, you do have to stop living every day bending others to your will, and acting from a place of ego, selfishness, violence and greed.
We need to learn that WE ARE ALL THE SAME, and that WE ARE ALL CONNECTED, and act accordingly.
We have incredible power to HEAL ourselves and each other and our world, and we do not use the power!
We waste it. We bury it. We ignore it.
We hurt each other when that is the very last thing we should be doing.
Life is supposed to be JOYFUL.
But we get in our own way and cling to pain and hate and strike out at others rather than fix our pain within ourselves.
Embrace each other. Help each other. Live a joyful life.
Everything happens for a reason---but it happens better when we make an effort to live cohesively and gently.

On a Lost Hope

Eventually, you get to a point where you have fooled yourself for too long, and talked yourself into things as your status quo that lessen you as a person. And it is hard as hell to stop deceiving yourself and turn that around. But eventually, it is too tiring to keep trying to support and buoy someone up at your own expense, with no end in sight. Eventually it is too much to continue feeling hurt by someone else's actions or lack thereof, no matter how much you truly love them, no matter how full your heart is for them, no matter how much you still desire a life with them. Eventually you figure out that you are waiting for a happening that would get the shittiest of odds if it were a horse bet at the track, and that has no glimmer of horizon's edge. So eventually, you stop making one more attempt, and stop waiting, and stop making excuses that you call "being understanding" and keep you stuck in your pain. And that is hard, especially when it is not a LOT of different things, but just ONE thing. One thing that is too big a load to keep carrying, and one that you both did not expect to have to carry so long, and that wasn't really your load to begin with, but one you voluntarily took up, never expecting it to last so long, or diminish you so damn much. In the tug-of-war you create between your own heart and your own mind, eventually the organ most filled with pain does not have the strength to go on, and the other makes the decision for you. And your friends call it "standing up for yourself" or "valuing yourself" or "deserving better". And it is a painful fact of life that if you hide from making a decision in life, a decision gets made for you. Avoiding decisions does not work out for anyone in the end. And the new crack in your heart is thunderously loud and leaves you destitute and in pain, regardless of how the decision gets made. And the dream gets retired, and life goes on...just not as brightly, and with a void that aches.

If It Just Didn't Matter...

What If It Just Didn't Matter:

If it just didn't matter...
I would wear less clothing. I would dance. I would talk to everyone. I would have TONS more sex with people who I can't even SEE through my fat glasses. I would value me enough to purposefully draw attention to myself and show my gifts. I WOULD PAINT and LET OTHER PEOPLE see and compliment me! I would show off my great rack on purpose, and not worry if I was safely tucked into the cups. I would run and twirl and laugh in public even when alone. If my issues disappeared, I would date more, and have more sex, and be happy about it. I would find a profession I LOVE rather than being good and dependable at what gets me by in Santa Cruz. I would paint and create and take lovers and enlarge my family and my circle of friends. I would find a way to live a life more open and less worried and I would stop assuming that I am stuck in poverty and singlehood and open my heart more to EVERYTHING---people, places, interests. I would banish fear form my life and live a fearless, juicy, LOUD life that made me sing with joy instead of trapping me in the mundane. I would see people more clearly and assume their thoughts are positive instead of negative---I would let them show me who they REALLY are, without the automatic assumptions I imbue them with. I would make a life's work of bringing beauty and joy and self-acceptance to everyone I met.

What I Really Want

What I Really Want

I think we female humans spend an inordinate amount of time trying to decide what we want out of life and love and ourselves.
So let me tell you what I want, what I really, really want (thanks, Spice Girls, I'll take it from here.)

What I Want: Life

I want Joy. I want unmitigated joy.
I want Laughter.
I want a feeling of security.
I want to see my family and my friends more.
I want a feeling of peace, moment to moment.
I want time to read.
I want to paint.
I want to be in love.
I want to be solvent.
I want company.
I want less clutter.
I want enough food.
I want enough.

What I Want: Love

I want someone to be sure of.
I want someone to depend on.
I want someone to support me!
I want someone to have my back.
I want someone in my DAILY LIFE!
I want someone who wants to be with me.
I want someone who smiles at me across the room apropos of nothing, just because looking at me makes him or her smile with joy.
I want someone who wants to be a PARTNER, not take advantage of me.
I want someone with a libido, who wants ME.
I want someone who can make conversation about anything or nothing.
I want someone who can cook better than me.
I want someone who actually LIKES children.
I want someone who thinks I am beautiful and smart and sexy.
I want someone who laughs.
I want someone who is nice to me and my daughter, and people in general.
I want someone kind and able to think about others, as well as take care of him/herself.
I want someone with emotions s/he will share.

What I Want: Myself

I want to fret about money less. MUCH less.
I want to be glad to wake up every day.
I want to laugh more.
I want to go to the ocean.
I want to be less worried about what people think.
I want to laugh out loud, even in public, and not care.
I want to enjoy what I do.
I want to be who I am, not what surrounds me.
I want to live honestly, with humor and peace and honor and love.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Onward & Upward! Mush! Yah, Mule!

I do not make New Year's Resolutions.

I used to, but too many years of feeling the failure by mid-January of things I didn't, or couldn't, really commit to do to begin with, has cured me of that. That, and the fact that, like most females in the U.S., I grew up with "go on a diet" at the top of my peer-pressured list during all tween and teen years, makes me scoff at such lists.

First off, screw the dieting! Screw the worries of being seen as fat! Screw punishing ourselves for being ourselves, and not some skinny, bony thing on the pages of "fashion" magazines! (Hey, if we could all airbrush before we hit the streets, that might just make it okay, but...I don't think so, even then.) Besides, as a society we seem to have forgotten a very simple rule of biological imperative: LIVING BODIES DO NOT LIKE TO BE STARVED! And they sure as hell do not like to be threatened with starvation, which is what most bodies see a diet as. The word "die" is there for a reason, y'all. And bodies defend themselves...by doing what? Say it with me: holding onto reserves to use in case of starvation. I think the world needs to get a more retro-view of bodies...I think it is time for the aesthetic of Rubens to come back into vogue...in his day, voluptuous women were HOT...having curves meant you could afford to eat, so you would survive, so you were THE means of continuation of the species. Besides, curves are sexy.

But I digress (often, you will find)...

I do not make resolutions for the New Year anymore.
I still have lists, but they aren't the resolutions of the type generally expected.
Last year, I think I had some things like "Get a rug for the living room" and "Journal more", "learn a language" and a few work-oriented tasks that I should have gotten to. Some I actually DID.

THIS year, I scribbled my list-always-in-progress on a recycled sheet from my 2008 Dog-Page-A-Day calendar from work. It is living in the January pocket of my new Live With Intention 2009 planner as we speak.

Here it is, so far:

New Habits
go slow
walk the dog
drink H2O
think twice, spend once
eat when hungry, stop when full
move sometimes

Yep, in the last 21 days, that is what I've come up with. (Notice I have not RESOLVED to do anything. I don't need the pressure. I'm a single mom living in California---I HAVE ENOUGH PRESSURE!) More fluid. Less imperative. More things I would like to accomplish more days than not, rather than regimented demands to make on myself, and punish myself for not doing.

And how am I doing, in the world of ardent non-resolution-keeping?

Well, starting my first day back at work, I implemented go slow. My boss was very proud. By day two, she had to tell me to take a break and slow down again, but I have since managed slower more days than not. Constantly on the move is a hard, hard habit to break, especially when one's mind is never still, though I am giving it my best shot.

I still haven't walked the dog this month, between being sick for a few weeks and depressed one of them, and the fact that it is dark by the time I get home...and it IS the rainy season, and my pug thinks water is acid, I suspect, and worries about her beautiful bod eaten away. Getting her out into the back yard to pee is difficult enough right now, even when the ground is wet and nothing is falling from the sky anymore.

Drink water...well, I take my meds with water. Except last night, when I downed them with a Smirnoff Ice (REALLY bad day...meltdown verging.) Drinking water for pleasure is not yet my habit. Wild Cherry Pepsi is my crack, my lover, my lifesblood, and some days, my Goddess!

Think twice, spend once: ehhh...maybe once I have some money to manage, that will kick more into play. Sometimes I struggle for enough change for toilet paper. January is like that right now. How much is a ticket for not renewing your plates? Dear Traffic Gods, please help keep me under the radar this month...

Doing well on the eat when hungry thing...today I even stopped when I was full! But yesterday my period kicked into high gear, and I ate whatever I could get into my mouth without actually leaving my desk chair. But that is okay, too. It happens. And those Candy Cane Kisses were taunting me, dude! They've been taunting me since Christmas week. They were lucky to live this long. They only lived because I left them in my desk during the shutdown. Lucky little shits. (The last once got it today.)

Move sometimes. Right now, all I can really do is move into other positions when the cramps hit, and walk to the ibuprofen bottle, and call it exercise. But I DID kinda boogie into the bathroom with a song in my head early on tonight, so there is hope for another day.

And here's the one that didn't even MAKE the list...start a blog. Find a place where I can put my mind vomit out into the world instead of leaving it bottled up, squishing about in my head to make me crazy, so I can stop mumbling to myself so much in public. ("She doesn't LOOK homeless!") Find a place to have my say, exorcise my demons, be silly and ridiculous and opinionated, and occasionally have a good old hissy-fit and rant...no one has to read it, but I did it, and that is what is important. And if someone DOES read it, maybe one day, some little globber of my ramblings could help someone, or brighten their day, maybe even make them smile or let a giggle escape. And if no one reads it? That's still okay...it is in the creation that the magic and the healing commence.

So sayeth the Jellyfish...

And on we go...