30 June 2008

A true handicap

Sorry about last week, my brain was broken.  It sort of felt like I was letting Jessica Simpson write my blog.  If Jessica Simpson had a frontal lobotomy.  And then had a stroke robbing her of the powers of speech.  And then she got really high.  And then somehow we traded brains in a science fiction novel gone horribly, terribly wrong.  And THEN she wrote my blog.  Although I'm sure that Jessica Simpson is, in reality a lovely and charming woman, never-you-mind some of the things she says.  
Moving on.
This week.  This week will be better.  This week I have at least 0.578% of my brain in good working order (although that's the part of my brain devoted to regular sleep cycles, so perhaps I speak too soon).
My weekend was nice, calm, quiet.  Friday was Ben's birthday which meant cake!  And then I spent the night at my parents' house to take advantage of hot baths in a claw-foot tub, and sleeping in, and my mom making waffles and bacon on Sunday.  And then yesterday I lay down with Gabriel to read him a bedtime story at oh, I'd say 8:15.  Then I woke up at midnight, and went to my bed.  Then I woke up at 1am, because Gabriel was climbing into my bed.  Then I woke up at 2:30 with an unslakeable thirst, and a strong craving for juice.  Then I woke up at 3:30 with Gabriel poking at me and demanding juice.  Then I woke up at 4:15 to pee, and at 5 to take Gabriel to pee, then at 6 because it was time to start my day.  And then I couldn't wake Gabriel up at 6:30 to start his day.  Which is pretty typical.  And possibly why my brain cells are so rarely able to band together and produce coherent thoughts. 
And then this week!  I have a four day work week, thanks to good old Independence Day.  And I'm taking the 11th and the 18th off, just because I'm awesome, and I have three three-day weekends in a row!  Is this heaven?  Well.  Perhaps...
Okay so maybe Jessica Simpson never actually managed to get her brain back, and maybe this week won't be any better.  Sorry!

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27 June 2008

Fat Owl Luggage Tag

To distinguish your undoubtedly posh baggage.  $10.99 at Mod Cloth.

FRIDAY THANK GOD

I'm going out tonight.  Big news I'm sure.  My plan is, as of yet, fairly undeveloped, although last night I DID manage to awkwardly uninvite my sister.  I was simply attempting to apprise her of the situation, because (a) I sometimes worry that she will embarrass me, and (b) anything I've ever told her she's immediately told my mother, which makes me approach telling her things in a sort of stilted and awkward way sometimes.  But.  I didn't mean to uninvite her, because I hardly think that her coming would be awkward, but I apparently lack a filter, and manage to make all kinds of activities that SHOULD BE NORMAL.....not.  Which, by the way, is one of the reasons that I love the internet.  I get to read everything I write BEFORE everyone else.  And, often always, edit (By the way that should speak volumes as to the social skills I lack--this site is edited, can you imagine me in person??).  So anyways, I guess my sister's not coming out?  A shame, because she's really fun in a dive bar.  
My mom's still watching Gabe tonight, but his daycare went on a field trip to Gilroy Gardens, so she couldn't pick him up on her way home, so I have to pick him up and drive him to my mom's house, and Friday traffic is really just a subtler version of hell.  And I don't have a car stereo.  And Gabriel expects me to regale him endlessly with children's songs.  So that should be something.  Next week I shall try valiantly to have interesting things to say, but this week was unbespeakably boring.

Update:  Molly gave me a deliciously good idea for a post, but I don't have time to craft it before I go home for the day, and I only blog from work.  Back Monday!

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26 June 2008

Grandstand Dress

Adorable, work appropriate, and $124.99 at Mod Cloth.

Thursday is the least interesting day of the week. This week.


You're totally sick of me linking to my friends' blogs right?  Well suck it up, because yesterday Mrs. Molly Catherine Harrar finally realized it's the awesome thing to do and started her very own weblog, Falling Molly.  

In other news, wait.  There really is no other news.  I've had zero significant events between yesterday and today.  Well, Gabriel helped me with cookies last night (chocolate chip) and I cleaned my bathroom and mopped my floors.  AND.  I dunno.  Since I've moved my life has been pretty joyously, blissfully, all I could ever dream of, out and out boring and uneventful and PEACEFUL.  No news is good news, like they say.  Whoever they are.    


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25 June 2008

Several unrelated thoughts, poorly strung together

Yesterday afternoon Gabriel was a perfect angel, presumably so as to dampen the headache caused by the nonexistent shoe tantrum.  This morning, furthering his attempts to placate me, he did not utter a single objection when I got him dressed.  My child has been expressing strong opinions about his clothes everything from an appallingly young age, so the fact that he didn't collapse into a puddle on the floor when I held out his sweater to put on was nothing short of a miracle.  However, I allot an extra 10 minutes or so for Gabriel's morning whine ritual, and even then I get to work 15-20 minutes early, because truly, the world stops and all living creatures cease to exist if ever I am late.  I'm the queen of unfashionably early.  I have to sit myself down and FORCE myself not to be early to parties/social functions.  Generally, I don't mind the extra 10-20 minutes I work per day.  I recognize that it's time taken out to afford for my Crazy, and not time unfairly being taken from me.  Besides which, I like to leave 5-10 minutes early, and that's only something that I feel comfortable doing with a cushion of extra time in the morning.  Not THIS morning though.  I got to work at 7:30, which, okay, is pretty early even for me.  And the doors?  They were locked.  Some of the managers were out today, and there was a miscommunication about who was letting everyone into the building this morning.  We all stood around until after 8, twiddling our thumbs.  And while I don't mind the extra 10-20 minutes I'm working every day?  You had better believe I mind that extra half hour of standing around for no reason; I haven't the words to express my hateful feelings about waiting without cause.  I marked my time sheet accordingly.

Transition:  Speaking of work....

I have a coworker whose last day is Friday.  We've all been invited to get together for drinks after work.  I have mixed feelings.  On the one hand, I like the guy, I like most of my coworkers, I like food, I like alcohol, I like eating and drinking with people I like.  Also, I'm still new, and I don't think I should snub social invitations if I aspire (and I do) to someday have proper work friends.  On the other hand, most of my managers will be there, and I (like most people) have a responsible, industrious "work persona."  As a general rule, my work persona and my dive bar persona do not get along, and we seem to be on a collision course mashing those two things together.  I'm not good with the whole "self control" aspect of living as a human on Planet Earth; even less so when alcohol is a factor.  I can just see myself either (a) not drinking because I don't feel comfortable, and being really bored the whole time because everyone else IS, or (b) drinking and acting a little too much like I do when I'm NOT at work, or (c) drinking, worrying about acting like and idiot, becoming overly self conscious of my every move, and wishing I wasn't there.  

Transition:  Speaking of drinking and going out and Friday....

From the way I understand it, two parent households do nifty things like "co-parent" and "share responsibility."  I, on the other hand, do handy little things like "become 100% consumed by work and parenting," "daydream about having 10 minutes alone," and "descend into the depths of insanity."  I'm a little short on the Me Time lately, so imagine my delight when my mom said she's watch Gabey Friday night.  All night.  And I don't have any other plans.  Yip. Ee. 

24 June 2008

Daymares

For whatever inexplicable and invisible-to-me reason, Gabriel woke up this morning in a ROTTEN mood.  I was like, "Hey honey it's time to get up."  And he was like, "LEAVE ME ALONE MOM I'M SLEEPING GO AWAY WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU I'M SLEEPING."  Then he totally told me to work on my people skills and wondered how I had any friends at all with the way I behave.  I don't know where he picked up that.  Hmmm.  
So when I DID get him up, he wanted to wear his Spider-Man shirt.  Fine.  And his Spider-Man unders.  Fine.  And his Spider-Man socks.  Which took approximately 10 minutes of tortured screaming to find.  But fine.  And his Spider-Man shorts and his Spider-Man hat and his Spider-Man shoes.  Hold on.  You don't even *own* Spider-Man shoes.  You have NEVER OWNED SPIDER-MAN SHOES.  No?  No matter, he shall throw a tantrum for them anyways.  Did you hear me?  My son spent most of this morning crying for a NONEXISTENT PAIR OF SHOES.  And he refused to wear or consider any of his other shoes.  So I grabbed him with one hand, my purse with the other, wedged a pair of shoes under my arm, and wrangled us all into the car.  Screaming. The whole. Time.  Halfway to daycare Gabriel stops crying and announces, "Mama, I want to wear my skate shoes."  
"I didn't bring your skate shoes, I brought your basketball shoes.  You didn't tell me which shoes you wanted."
"THAT'S BECAUSE I WANTED MY SPIDER-MAN SHOES.  Now I'll wear my skate shoes.  PUT THEM ON WHERE ARE THEY I WANT THEM NOW."
"I don't have your skate shoes."
And the screaming commenced, and continued all the way to daycare, where he was still screaming when I left.
Is 3 easier than 2?

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23 June 2008

Limoncello Retro Dress

I love it and I want it.  $49.99 at Mod Cloth.

Banana Split Heels

$39.99 at Mod Cloth.

Fires, Fires, Everywhere

Santa Cruz county, which discounting SF City/County is the smallest in the state, suffered from the third major fire inside of a month this weekend.  I was planning on taking Gabriel to Sacramento to see his dad, but K is having some sort of health issues, so we stayed in town (despite the generous offer of Boyz II Men tickets).  And my aunt Ellen's in town, so my mom picked up Gabey on Friday to take him to the beach, and I was going to come meet them after work.  Unfortunately, the large and fast spreading fire meant that the freeway was closed, and we were on opposite sides of it.  Also, my brother James was at work in town.  So my mom and I traded sons for the night, and James and I went to see The Incredible Hulk.  I found it to be immensely entertaining, and not just because I would die for the chance to have Edward Norton's babies.  Also because I have a weakness in my heart for action movies based on comic book series (in case you didn't get the memo, my dork ways mean that I actually read this stuff as a kid, instead of, y'know, playing with my Barbie Dream House or whatever).  And while I didn't see the 2003 version, on account of it looking so impossibly bad, I'm sure it really WAS impossibly bad, and therefore this one was much, much better, because it was good.  

Saturday we had some bizarre weather.  First the temperatures spiked up to 105, then they dropped to 80 for a lightning storm (which, incidentally, sparked a whole lot more fires around the county), and then that cleared up and all of a sudden it was blisteringly hot again.  Only this time our power was out.  Fun times!

Saturday night James spent the night at my house again, because he had left his lesson plans (he's working the summer as a swim teacher) there on Friday.  We rode the bus home, which felt very frugal of me, and we spent the evening watching season 3 of The Office on DVD.  

Sunday I cleaned (honest!), and went grocery shopping, and did all of the stuff I was meaning to do all weekend but put off until Sunday.

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Masha Artist Series Season Tee

I bought this shirt this weekend at Urban Outfitters, and I would have bought them all, but this was the only one in my size in the store.  Now that I'm home, I'm exercising restraint with the online store.  $32.

MICHAEL KORS Eau de Parfum

This smells like heaven, $70 at Michael Kors and just about everywhere else.

20 June 2008

Kurt Halsey Cloud Bank


I bought this from Urban Outfitters last week, because I was in need of a pick me up, and I'm a huge Kurt Halsey fan.  It worked.  Especially since it's on sale!  $7.99 at Urban Outfitters.

19 June 2008

Love him

"Is it night time?"

"Yeah honey."

"Is the sun sleeping?"

"Yep."

"On the other side of the world?"

"Uh huh."

"Is Elliot sleeping?"

"I think so."

"Is Grandma sleeping?"

"Yeah she's all tucked into bed."

"Is Simon sleeping?"

"Yeah.  Everyone's sleeping but you."

"Is my dada sleeping?"

"Of course."

"I want to visit!"

"Huh?"

"Visit!"

"Where do you want to visit?"

"I want to visit the other side the sun where my dada and grandma and my Elliot is."

"Maybe you can visit them when you're dreaming."

"Can I bring the moon in my dreams?"

"Always."

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18 June 2008

I'm sure none of them want me to do this

SUPERJULES: SUPER. JEWELS.  I've known Julia since I was seven years old.  That means she's known me for longer than my two youngest brothers.  Even more interesting than that, we've been friends the whole time.  And we haven't gone to the same school since fifth grade.  And even more interesting than THAT, we've been friends who genuinely like each other and make a point of staying in touch, not just those friends where you say "Oh yeah, we've been friends since we were kids" awkward awkward blah blah blah.
Also:  Julia is really funny.  
Also:  She tells fantastic stories.  Better than me.  Even if you don't know her.
Also:  She always seems to have interesting experiences when she goes to the doctor.
Also:  She gets all of the obscure side effects from medications.
Also:  She's catholic.  
Also:  She used to play the trumpet.
Also:  She just moved to San Francisco.
Julia might make you think that singing Britney Spears at a karaoke bar is a good idea.  And she might also lead you to believe that it's OKAY if you take a little nap on the sidewalk in the middle of the day in the middle of a large crowd of people.  And she'll even do it with you.
Read her blog.  Even if you don't know her, she's witty and cute and inspiring.  And she loves unicorns.  

Catnip for Cuckoos.  This is Aubrey.  He's one of the only people I know who can actually make his job sound like it's really cool, because, even though I think he hates it now, he's still the only person I know who actually does what he went to school to do, sort of.  He lives in Sacramento, which isn't quite as lame as living in Chico, and is even a step up from living in Vacaville, but don't let the fact that it's the state capital fool you, it sucks (by the way I always have to use the dictionary to see if it's capital or capitol).  But I digress.  Aubrey: he's funny, witty, smart, and also adorable.  I think maybe if he feels the pressure of tons tens of eyes checking his page, he'll write with a bit more proclivity. 

The Adventures of Lady Jay.  I know that I wrote about Emma's blog before, so the main reason I'm  mentioning it now is because I think she should change it back from its invite-only status and have a public blog again.  How can I link you to strangers and tell them how much I love you when your blog is password protected?  Fie on your privacy!

i like stuff (but not all stuff).  Paris was my randomly selected college roommate my freshman year in the dorms, and my best friend and roommate the entire time I lived in Santa Barbara.  Then shortly after we had both moved away we had a falling out that I can look back on now as probably both of our faults, but at the time I viewed as entirely her fault.  And then I didn't talk to her for two years, and completely ignored every single one of her attempts to make peace with me.  Then I started reading her blog.  Then I realized that I missed her, and that I'm a jerk.  Well I already knew that I'm a jerk; what I mean is, I realized that I was being a giant ass in this specific situation, and I needed to get over myself.  Now we talk on the internet, which is a far cry from actually talking.  But that's not because I don't want to actually talk to her.  We played phone tag for a couple weeks way back in February, and then I had way too much going on with moving and changing jobs, and then I changed my phone number and had to get ANOTHER PINK PHONE, and now I don't have her phone number (Paris what's your phone number?).  And also, I'm sort of afraid that being as we haven't talked for so long we're going to have to have an awkward conversation, and I want to just have a normal Paris conversation.  Probably it just WOULD be a normal conversation, but I tend to worry about these things, especially as I'm not very fond of the phone in general.  I'm rambling.  HER BLOG, which is what I'm directing you to, focuses a lot on current events, politics, and interesting news articles.  Since our political views are largely the same, I think it's an interesting read that makes me feel slightly more well informed and intellectual, also self righteous and morally correct.  She also talks about her life as a (now graduated!) law student.  

12 June 2008

Homemade Hell

There I was, staring at my day planner, focused in on June 12, where I had written "Dentist" in the 10:00 line, and drawn a line all the way down to 12:00.  Two hour blocks at the dentist tend to denote....not....good....ness.  Fixating on this preview of amazing, I did indeed remember that in addition to the semiannual poking at my gums with pointy metal thingies, on June 12th I also got to have x-rays and two fillings!  Hoorah!  
But how could I improve upon this day?
What do people hate even more than going to the dentist?
Going to the DMV of course!
I better make an appointment posthaste!
Ok.  Right.  I've got my DMV appointment.  I've got my dentist appointment.  Yet I perceive a tiny gap between those two events, one which the good lord knows must not be filled by window shopping downtown.  Nay, I had better fill this void.  
Dentist, DMV, what is left?
Having blood drawn and getting shots, naturally!  Better make a 9:15 nurse's appointment to take care of that blood work my doctor ordered 3 months ago when I had my physical.  She wants to check my cholesterol.  Good news!  For this appointment, no eating for 12 hours prior.  Which means I can go to the DMV on an empty stomach, and not have time between the doctor and the dentist for a snack!  We all know I'm a real peach when I don't eat for hours!  And since I'm getting fillings, my mouth shall be numb, and eating when it's all through shall be an impossibility.  Better make sure I commit myself to working in the afternoon, wouldn't want to take the whole day off for recovery or anything.  And you know, while I'm at the doctor's appointment, let's not forget that I need that second Guardasil shot.  That way my arm can be achy for a couple days.  My throat and my feet need some competition to spice things up.
So.  Thursday?
So many different kinds of awesome.

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11 June 2008

Throat, I deny you!

For the past couple of days, I've been studiously ignoring the nagging, irritating, tingling in my throat.  My right foot still sort of bothers, and in a bid for equality, I have a wincing pain shooting up my uninjured left foot and ankle every time I walk.  Or breathe.  Or hold my breath.  I simply don't have time for throats.  Well today my throat got tired of being the forgotten middle child of my bodily woes, and rendered itself unignorable, even upping the ante with a dry, hacking cough.  

Monsieur Throat, allow me to lay out my objections.
  1. Your soreness-induced coughing is giving me a pounding headache.  A headache that is not ameliorated by staring at a computer screen for eight hours, broken up only by answering phones and helping troglodytes customers.  
  2. When I cough, I sound like a dying elephant seal, and while I think that may upset coworkers, I really don't feel sick enough to go home.
  3. It's a sunny 70 degrees outside.  It is immeasurably cruel that you would choose to malfunction in weather that is so very...perfect.
  4. My feet still hurt.  My non-broken foot significantly more than my broken foot.
  5. Your wretched soreness makes me drink much water, which in turn makes me have to pee more than a little kid with a bathroom nowhere in sight.  But my feet (again, my left, supposedly whole ankle far more than my right, legitimately broken foot) make walking across the building to the bathroom very unpleasant.
For shame, throat.  For shame.

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10 June 2008

In search of the perfect bag

Hey guys!  How have you been?  Want to help me scour the internet?  I'm having a purse dilemma.  I realize that, given all of the many dilemmas I could be having, given all of the natural disasters the world over, and the food shortages, and the gas price hikes, and all of these bloody conflicts, a purse dilemma is a pretty superficial thing to have.  But have it I do, and I will not apologize.  Some history:
Remember that guy I was dating who elected to stop seeing me via deleting me as a friend on MySpace?  Yeah.  I always hate outlining exactly what is wrong with the men I date, because I sense that it reflects very poorly on me, that I dated them in the first place.  But before he distinguished himself from the others and came into the foreground as a complete and utter coward, he was unremarkably sweet and normal, which was a nice change of pace, to be unremarkable.  Anyways.  He got me a Dooney & Bourke tote, the kind that says D&B everywhere and all over.  I thought it was kind of ugly No. I was surprised that someone would pick that out for me Um. It wasn't really reflective of my personal style, but it was given to me the last time that I saw/heard of him, so I figured since I couldn't return the thing I might as well put it to good use.  Which I did.  But actually.  It's too big, and I don't like purses with brand name prints on them, be they Coach or Gucci or what have you; I feel like it comes off as a desperate move by me to advertise to the world that honestly!  I have nice things!  I'm fashionable!  There's nothing desperate about my other nice things, because they don't advertise themselves to the global snobbery.  They mostly come from my mother, or maybe my grandmother, and are nice just because they're well crafted of quality materials.
The thing about that giant purse was that, even though it was always too giant for my needs, and I was constantly losing things in its cavernous insides, it made all of my other purses, which are for the most part less than half the size, unbearably small.
So this is what I'm looking for:  
I need a purse that is big enough for my Mom Wallet, a small planner/notebook, a chico bag, a small pouch with "lady things" in it, and some miscellany, like my cell phone, chapstick, maybe a power bar.  BUT.  I don't want it to be sized for a laptop, 2 litres of water, an extra shirt and a peanut butter sandwich.  Gabriel's out of diapers, and I don't want something the size of a diaper bag.  I like to wear my bags on one shoulder, so I like the straps to be the proper length to facilitate that.  Also, I like to have some means of dividers or pockets, but I don't want a Buxton Organizer.  That would just be too many choices.  Be warned that that link talks when you open it.  Finally, I'm looking for something that goes with a lot of things, but isn't boring to look at.

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09 June 2008

Magical....

Way back in 2004, I bought a beautiful, top-of-the-line, 12" Power Book.  This little miracle of engineering genius was near and dear to my heart, and I loved it fervently.  But.  3 days after that one year warranty went up in flames, so did the hard drive.  I was mid-semester at San Jose State, and coincidentally at K's apartment in Chico.  I surrendered it to him, and he made it work again.  Sorta.  He doesn't do Macs, and he's not really an expert with laptop technology, so even though my data was all recovered and everything "worked," there were some aspects that were decidedly wonky.
The fan.  Ever since that fateful weekend in 2005, the fan has run every time I've turned on the computer.
The keyboard.  You have to remove keys to remove the keyboard, and some of those keys never made it back on.  Plus my keyboard was all wavy for some reason, which made it really hard to type.
Generally, the thing was just sort of slow and sort of weird, in a very nonspecific way.
I asked my friend Keith about it a couple times, because he's a computer geek and he uses Apples.  He offered me two explanations:
  1. Because it's such a small computer, maybe the fan just should always be running, because it heats up a lot.
  2. My computer is magical.  Get a new one.
So I've been preparing myself for the eventuality of investing my life's blood in a new computer.  I bought a portable hard drive and backed up all of my nonsense, since it seemed reasonably likely that Old Faithful might kick the can before I raised the necessary funds on the wages of the working poor.  And every now and then I go to www.apple.com and lust after the new pretties that are on display.  

And then Matt got in touch with me.  I've known Matt since I was in high school, but we haven't hung out in years.  We've stayed in touch in a half-hearted sort of way through the miracle that is "social networking," but I moved to Chico two weeks after he moved away from Chico, and then for some reason he was living in Indiana.  But now we're both here.  In the same county.  And he fell out of the sky and asked me what I've been up to, and it turns out that he fixes up Macs for a living, and I should come by whenever and he'll prettify mine for me.  So I drove all the way up to Boulder Creek, laptop in hand.  And he and his boss took it apart, and they both sort of groaned.  I guess there's a lot more wrong with it than I realized?  He told me that he viewed it as frankly unusable the way it is now.  And then he told me that he's gonna need it "for a few days at least."  When I left, it was out of it's case, looking very much like a piece of garbage, but he says he thinks he can get it back to me as good as new.  Thanks Matt!!

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06 June 2008

You do not gain my sympathies

So there was a union demonstration that shut down all of the intersections surrounding my work as I was trying to leave and get Gabey this afternoon. I am sympathetic to unions. My dad's a Teamster, and even though that might be the same thing as saying, "My dad's in the mafia," it boils down to the fact that I was brought up in a very pro-union household. On top of that, I'm a union member myself.
But.
You're not hurting your bosses. The people with whom you're negotiating don't even live in this county, and even if they did, they wouldn't be at work at 5:00 on a Friday. I would bet money on the fact that the people who write your contracts are the same people who leave at lunchtime on Friday to hit the golf course and do some networking.
No.
You're pissing off your sympathizers. Like me. It makes me unbespeakably angry when I get home at 6:30 PM, especially considering that my total commute is less than 7 miles. On a Friday this is especially true. I already don't have enough hours in the day, and I never have enough time with my son. And no, I'm not thinking, "Gee, these disgruntled workers really ruined my whole evening and soured the tone of my weekend, I sure hope negotiations go their way." Try an activity that disrupts the flow of business for your target, not one that makes your would-be supporters fervently wish that you get syphilis and die. Just a tip.

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05 June 2008

Not the brightest crayon in the box

So I wrote my Life List.  I actually worked on it for a while, trying to think about everything that needed doing.  Unfortunately, due to my recent frontal lobotomy, I didn't realize that I had already written a sort of a life list here.  And these lists are not the same.  So I've combined, and stuck the list in my right left-hand column so I can cross things off and feel like an accomplished human being.

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04 June 2008

Your Attention Please

First, have you noticed the graphic for Apple Blossom Baby?  That's my friend Darci's store.  She's a flesh friend.  In retrospect, "flesh friend" sounded a lot more like a legitimate turn of phrase before I read it on the computer screen.  I'm not a zombie, but Darci is one of my good friends in real life.  As opposed to sleep; that's where I'm a viking.  And now let's come back to that opening sentence.  Have you noticed it?  It's at the bottom of my various links to other things in the right-hand left-hand column.  She runs an in-person (fleshy?) version of this attachment parenting-friendly, new, used and consignment, child and baby goods store in Chico, CA.  If you're not familiar with California geography, Chico is somewhere near the boiling point of Planet Earth, which is one of the many reasons I got out of hell and moved a little closer to paradise.  But I digress.  Darci recently launched the online version of her truly fabulous store.  You'll find lots of good resources on cloth diapering and wearing your baby, and she also has a fun page of craft recipes.  She was a preschool teacher for years before she became a forward-thinking business woman, so she really knows her stuff.

Second, are you going to Blogher '08?  I finally took the plunge and registered, so I'm going to be there.  I have to be there because if I don't that would be spending money on NOTHING, and I only like to spend my money on concrete STUFF, like cocaine and shoes.  But I don't know anyone.  Maybe I'll know you?  Let's connect.  I won't touch your boobs until at least two hours after we've met, unless I'm drinking and then all bets are off.  I most likely have to work Friday the 18th (what with that full time job and all), but I'm all on board for activities the 19th.  I'm not staying at the hotel, because, well, I'm poor, and therefore bumming off of my darling Miss Julia Jane.  
And by the way, if you had asked me a year ago if I would be attending a conference for the "blogging community,"  I would have told you definitely not.  Never mind publicly admitting such a thing.  It violates the cool persona I'm trying to maintain.  You know, the one I'm using to bring hope to all of my desperate, lonely, poor, single-mother, yes-men readers, surviving on welfare and with menial service jobs?  Oh, you didn't know that you were desperate and lonely?  What's that, you didn't know that you were a yes-man either?  Well it's all laid out for you here and here, and also in a couple of follow-up emails I received.  

Finally, I'm going to look at/drive a car today, and then *gasp* maybe buy it?  Think good car thoughts for me.

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03 June 2008

Harland Jay

Throughout my childhood, my cousin Harley would come visit us for a week or two every summer. We had the relationship of siblings; we would bicker bitterly, play raucously. I remember two-on-one soccer games in the field across the driveway, with goals delineated by logs from the woodpile. I remember swimming in the pond all the drought summers, when it was more algae than water. I remember plum fights in the orchard. Riding in the back of my dad's pickup to work in the woods and rolling logs down the hill. I remember the times that he came with us to Lake Tahoe and Calistoga. I remember climbing the maple tree in the backyard and pulling up the rope so that Duncan couldn't follow us. I remember when Harley and my sister went to the Grand Canyon with Aunt Randy and Grandpa Irv, and I was so jealous of what a miserable time they had. They had such funny stories about how wretched they had been. Harley used to run the loop down to the mail boxes and back every morning, he was always so much more athletic than any of us.

I remember my grandmother calling to tell us Harley was dead. He had overdosed on something. While his two friends survived with miserable hangovers, my cousin had drowned in his own vomit, lying on the couch in his living room.

I remember his funeral. I remember how no one there really seemed like they knew him. There were all these people who kept talking about how Harley was a Christian, and now he was in the arms of Jesus. Harley wasn't a Christian. We are not a religious family.

Then one of his friends talked about how they met in third grade, in anger management class. And I knew that they had truly been friends.

That was 9 years ago this May. Harley was 19.

It never completely leaves you, but it does get to where you think about it less and less.

02 June 2008

Weekends for the living

I went to the Giants/Padres game yesterday.  And we won.  In the bottom of the tenth.   You can read all about it here.  And let me just say, as someone who has been letting the Giants break her heart for 25 years, 90% of the time, if we were down by two in extra innings, we would not be coming back for the victory.  Because we can be up 10-0 and still lose 11-10.  That's just how we roll.  So this was a nice change.

Also, as I believe I've stated before, if you can let go of the fact that my dad is incredibly embarrassing, going to the games with my dad means sitting in ridiculously good seats.  Which we did.

I still need to buy a car.  

Ugh.

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List for Life

  • Write a published work
  • Photograph the Moscow subway system
  • Have lunch in Paris
  • Kayak in Alaska
  • Learn how to fix my own bicycle
  • Prepare a holiday meal
  • Knit a sweater (entirely)
  • Plan a pregnancy
  • Read Moby Dick
  • Drink a mint julep on a front porch in the Deep South
  • Find out what my natural hair color actually is, before it's grey
  • Own a home
  • Make my own candy
  • Live in another country
  • Visit New Orleans
  • Learn to sail
  • Hike the Incan Trail
  • Write a work of fiction
  • Live in a real city
  • Snowboard in the Alps
  • Learn a second language
  • Teach English as a second language
  • See the Giants win the World Series
  • Learn to surf
  • Make angel food cake
  • Make clothes from patterns that I designed myself
  • Drive through the German countryside
  • Take the train across the country
  • Put my feet down in all 50 states
  • Swim in the Mediterranean
  • Fly a kite
  • Make a scrapbook
  • Catch a fish
  • Wander the moors
  • Balance my checkbook
  • Have an office
  • Bake bread
  • Ride in a hot air balloon