Last Day BITCHES!

I don't think it's any coincidence that NaBloPoMo happens to be a short month. The difference between 30 and 31 days is HUGE.

Good Points:
Because I'm not really available to write a lot on the weekends, I had to think some posts through in advance. Which meant that I had to actually put some thought into my writing. Which was really good. Because I am, sort of, aspiring to be a better writer.

I fleshed out and wrote some things that I've been meaning to write for awhile.

I think I got more in touch with the blogging community by being around every day.

Since I wimped out and resorted to posting distractingly awesome pictures of Gabriel on more than one occasion, I got better at remembering to take pictures, and I got caught up on some of my photo editing and uploading.

For some reason, posting every day here has inspired me to post more at Disgraced Shopping, which has been great.

Bad Points:
EVERY DAY?!?!

I happened to go a lot of places this month, and spend some long stretches offline, which made planning and posting....trickier than it should have been.

Seriously. EVERY DAY???

***
As of this moment, I'm thinking that next year it'll be a go.

Thanksgiving Photoset

Pictures from Thanksgiving.

P.S. My aunt et al got Molly's sister, Bridget, from the same litter of puppies.

Thanks. Given.

I'm thankful for my loving friends and family.

Waking up on Saturday mornings to Gabriel whispering that he loves me.

Long, hot showers on short, cold days.

Improved financial and emotional stability.

My health.

The health of my loved ones.

Laughing children.

Being appreciated at work.

Job security.

Being on the path out of debt, instead of the path deeper in.

Our country taking a new direction.

Hope.

Love.

Good books.

It's an annual thing

This year's Thanksgiving Guest List (you can see last year's here):

• My parents
• Laura, Mike, Simon, Elliot (29 year old sister plus husband plus kids, ages 5 and 2)
  
• James (16 year old brother)
• Daniel (11 year old brother)
• Duncan & Kate (24 year old brother plus live-in girlfriend)
• Kate's parents
• Mary & Lucas (my sister's friend and her son, I believe age 7)
• Krishna & family (my adorable coworker, plus her husband Eddie, daughter Jasmin (14), stepson Jayden (7)
  
• Ben (uncle with rage problem, but if he passes out we can use his hot tub)
• Brian (uncle who will spend the whole night awkwardly and painfully trying to make small talk with his father)
• Jonathan (crazy uncle)
• Rebecca, Hector, Elijah, Caleb, Camille (aunt plus live-in boyfriend/common law husband plus their three children, ages 9, 5 and 1 1/2)
• Rosa (Hector's Spanish speaking mother)
• Liz, Julia, Nicole (mom's cousin who has replaced alcohol with Jesus, plus her teenaged daughters, plus, since Nicole goes to UCSC now, possibly her roommate too)
• Michael and Lisa (mom's cousin who has the biggest head I've ever seen, plus his much older and very unattractive barhag wife who likes to talk about real estate. A lot)
• Scott, Orn and Dillon (mom's cousin who is INSANE, plus his mail order Thai bride [not kidding] who is 22 years his junior, and their son (3), who is generally sedated with cough syrup and exposed to very. bad. parenting.)
• David, Kerri, Rachel, Josh (mom's fundamentalist Christian cousin, second wife Kerri, teenage step children Rachel and Josh. My second cousins coming from this family may include: Kristin, Jillian, Jesse, Ryan. If Jillian comes I assume it will be with her new husband. If Kristin comes it will likely be with her boyfriend)
• Grandpa (He'll yell at everyone)
  

Possible attendees include:

• Randy (crazy uncle who has replaced alcohol with Jesus and steels other people's recycling in the middle of the night for a living. His wife rather tragically died of lung cancer earlier this fall)
• Any number of Hector's daughters from first two marriages, plus their children.
  
• Any friends, boyfriends, girlfriends or family that any of the above feel like inviting along

Planning for the weekend

Cherish gave me this lovely award, which I am passing on to Sus, because maybe it'll mean she has her baby today? Being pregnant really starts to get old towards the end there.
Anyhow. I'm still coughing up a lung every time I take a breath, which is....less than awesome. Plus sometimes when I exhale too...hard? Maybe? It's like my regular breathing comes with the sound of a cough. Like a dragon, according to my brother. That was sort of a rambly non-apology for being both (a) boring and (b) lame. But the thoughts in my head just aren't thinking today. I'm going to stop writing about how I have nothing to write about starting....now. No. Now.

Okay.

Starting now.

My Thanksgiving plans, should you choose to care:

Tomorrow night I'm going over to my grandma's (paternal) house to hang out with my cousins Lisa and Jasmine. My original plan was to bring Gabey over as well, but then I realized that his preschool closes early, so my mom has to pick him up, so he'll be in Corralitos, so I'm just going to head over by myself. We just found out that Jasmine is pregnant which is OMG! So exciting! This is her first baby and she's going to be SUCH a good mom. She's about 8 years older than me (I think?) and when I was a little girl I just used to follow her around everywhere and she was always SO nice to me about EVERYTHING and not ever any kind of Go Away Obnoxious Child. Very exciting, and this is the first time I'll see her since I heard the news which means I'll have plenty of opportunity to squeel and whatnot.

Thursday is Thanksgiving at my grandpa's (maternal). Last year I mentioned the guest list. This year add on a few more people. It's hectic, to say the least. However, with the glaring exception of myself, my family is comprised of a bunch of fantastic cooks, so the food is delicious. I don't really even like Thanksgiving food and even I have to admit that the food is delicious.

Friday morning I'm going to breakfast with Miss Ambular, whom I saw the Friday after last Thanksgiving, and who took my most favorite pictures of my lovely son. I'm super excited about that because I adore Amber. She even lets me pretend that I'm a natural redhead, and welcomes me into her gingerish fold.

Saturday night I'm going with a coworker to see The Devil Makes Three at The Catalyst.

Sunday I'm sleeping. Like a serious lot.

I assume hope that somewheres in there K is going to come down to visit Gabriel, but I haven't heard anything about his plans.

Another Baby

My parents have been working on building up their dog population. They live in the middle of nowhere and their dogs keep things in check. Ideally, they have two or three. Right now they have one ancient dog and this puppy that my mom found in Chico. Except that was over a year ago so I suppose he's less puppy and more dog these days. His name is Earl, and he's half Corgi, half mystery.

Anyhow.

My parents have been on the lookout for a new dog to call their own, but due to licensing and breeding laws in Santa Cruz County, it's surprisingly difficult to find a plain old mutt puppy to call your own.

This Sunday I took my 11-year-old brother to pick out Molly, their new Australian Shepherd. She was born on October 5th, and she's very sweet:



Earl likes her alright:



Elliot is very protective of his doggies:



Daniel hasn't put her down:

It makes it just like...running

A fish named JoeBrianJeffJohnBrianBob (Brian is there twice on purpose)

We haven't killed it! Yet. I put it in a prettier house. In the morning Gabriel feeds him. I say something like, "Do you want to feed the Fish?" and then Gabriel replies with something like, "You mean JOE THE FISH?" HE HAS A NAME. So then I call him Joe, OH YOU MEAN BRIAN.

Then the next day I might say something about Brian, OH YOU MEAN JOHN. Sorry. And what's with the utterly boring human names that aren't even people in our lives or anything? I'm perplexed.

Gabriel's New Haircut

I'm not really ready for Christmas but whatever

I slept for ten hours last night, and then my alarm went off, and I couldn't POSSIBLY get up, so I called in sick/late/something, and slept for another TWO HOURS, and now I'm here at work, but very much unwillingly so. My body hurts and I haven't showered and it's an impossibly nice day outside and I HATE being sick on nice days. It makes me feel like God's laughing at me even MORE than usual.

Anyways, I need a Christmas card photo. Last year was the first that I did a photo, and, well, um, it was this:



I was thinking of doing something that was actually at all remotely Christmas and/or Holiday ISH this year, but I don't want to get it done professionally, on account of the moneys that costs. Thoughts? Ideas? Advice?

An extremely unscientific explanation of dealing with Gabriel's hair

I'm stuck in more Excel training today (even as we speak, if'n you must know). My big goal for this session is that it won't end with someone telling me leap in front of a moving bus. Before you know it, I'm going to be the flippin' Excel Grand Wizard. Or something.

I've had a few people ask me what I do with Gabriel's hair. Answers!

You might be wondering, how did this couple:

Make this baby:



Well I DON'T HAVE THAT ANSWER. Believe me, we were the most surprised of all. But this is what I do with Gabey's hair, since y'all (okay ONE PERSON) asked:

He gets a bath most nights, probably 6 nights a week. When he gets out and I'm drying him off and getting him ready for bed, if his head smells like a wet puppy, the next time he takes a bath, I shampoo and condition his hair. If, before we hit the critical point of puppy smell, his hair seems to be getting dry and/or tangly, I'll use conditioner without shampoo. If his hair is long enough to need to be combed (he got a haircut this weekend, pictures to come), then I spray the bejesus out of his head with No More Tangles, and then I comb through it.

Easy Peasy Mac 'n Cheesy.

I don't THINK I'm doing anything wrong, but if I am, feel free to respond and critique.

La la la the end.

Turns out that cropping my garbage out of pictures is harder than you'd expect

Last week Gabriel built himself a super amazingly cool awesome Spider-Man motorcycle. He's been rushing home after school to play with it every day because hey! It's so cool!



Yup. That's a bathroom stool, a hanger, a bike helmet, and some trusty sunglasses. Don't ask me how Spider-Man fits into the picture. I have no answers.



Unfortunately his motorcycle lives next to my bed, which is also where I like to keep my garbage.



I guess one answer could be finding a new place to keep refuse (are /rɪˈfyuz/ and /ˈrɛfyus/ really spelled the same?? I hate you English!), but I rather like to have it next to my bed, where it's handy.

P.S. If you're looking at that last parenthetical and are thinking 'The hell??', those pronunciations are thanks to IPA, which is not India Pale Ale, but is the International Phonetic Alphabet, and also the ONLY THING I LEARNED IN COLLEGE.

NaBloPoMo: CLA EPIC FAIL

I sort of half-heartedly mentioned that on Friday I was going to the CLA Annual Conference and Exposition. I woke up on Friday morning and my throat and lungs felt like I'd been up all night smoking, except that I hadn't. I went to my CLA volunteering thingy, and out to dinner with some SLIS folk, and it was fun! And I was excited! Honest!

Then I drove to San Francisco, and I went out with Julia. Some guy accused us of wearing pretend-glasses so we would look smarter, when actually we both just can't see. I opted to take this as a compliment. As in, Oh you are SO unbespeakably gorgeous, you must be wearing glasses to play that down and draw attention to your BRAIN. I don't think that's how he meant it, but whateva'. Then we went to this really bizarre club that I've so far had a terribly difficult time describing. There was an overabundance of apparently heterosexual men in v-necks, mouthing song lyrics and dancing with....each other. But they....weren't gay? It was weird. Also this guy asked me how old I was and I said 26 and then he...walked away. Like get out of here you bar hag, you're too old for this young, hip, happening scene. And then I FELT like an old bar hag, (maybe it was the blush??) and Julia kept scolding me for opening conversations with cute boys with, "So do I look like a dried up old hag to you??" She says this is NOT a good opener.

I woke up Saturday morning well before I needed to leave for my CLA thingy, but with no voice at all, which wasn't really going to work very well for speaking, and meeting people. I called in sick to my volunteering gig and told myself that if I regained my ability to speak I would head down there. Instead I went to Denny's. And watched the USC/Stanford game. Turns out? This was the same weekend as the USC Weekender, which would explain the general popularity of Julia's tattoo. We tried to go a lot of different places, including a bar where the bartender actually REFUSED to sell me alcohol, because he "didn't have time for me." So. We left. And ended up back in Julia's neighborhood, at this bar where the bouncer stood next to us, stared off into the distance, and listed the cities he has been to, in an endless monotone run-on sentence.
"I went to L.A. in 1993 Philly's pretty bad I've been there but I've been to Pittsburgh and it's worse but I've been to New York once too..." We left.

The alarm went off on Sunday morning and I yelled at it, but we did get up early enough for me to live my life. I was still sick and froggy. But less so.

Gabriel got back from his dad's with a haircut and a fish named Joe.

I went to lunch with Keith! And it was fun! And great! And hang out with me more!

The moral of all of this is that I'm not allowed to go to any more conferences, because I'm obviously really bad at the actual going bit.

Today I'm sick, but I didn't want to call in because I didn't think my work would believe me since I took a long weekend. And I have over 200 unread entries in Google Reader. I'm considering just marking all as read and starting over tomorrow.

NaBloPoMo: Blushing Pink

I went into Sephora on Friday with the intention of buying blush. I don't normally wear blush, but I also don't normally have cheekbones, so I thought I would step up my game a little bit, y'know? It turns out the longer I sit around not having sex, the prettier I try to be. Did you know that I've started working out again? And now I actually run a comb through my hair before I walk out the door. Because if I'm going to be a frigid, sexless old spinster, dammit I'm going to be a hot one.
Motherfucker.

Besides it's not like I'm part of the anti-blush police or something; it's just that I don't know what I'm doing with it and I don't want to end up looking like an 80-year-old stripper. My mom doesn't wear makeup, so I was lacking some critical beauty guidance growing up, which makes me overly self-conscious when I try something new. When I make the plunge, I try to do it whilst being bossed by an expert.

I've always had pretty good luck with Sephora employees helping me be less ugly look more glamorous. When oral surgery left me with two black eyes last summer it was Sephora-Boy who guided me to the proper products and techniques to make them disappear (check out this photo! I secretly have black eyes! You cannot tell!!). When I came to the conclusion that not having any eyebrows at all probably wasn't working in my favor, it was Sephora-Chick who helped me find something that was easy to do and not freaky-looking.

I was pretty sure that if I walked into the store, found an employee, and said ExcusemeI'mlookingforblushandIdon'tknowwhatI'mdoingbecauseIdon'twearblushCanyouhelp? that someone would willing do so.

Wrong.

The first two people I asked ignored me completely. Really. Completely. The third one had questions.
If you don't normally wear blush, why do you want it now?
I don't know.
What kind do you want?
I don't know.
Well what is it for?
I don't know.
Then why do you want it?
I DON'T KNOW.

I ended up finally getting help by saying that I was a bridesmaid and had to wear blush in the wedding, but was looking for something subtle that I could keep using afterwords if I wanted to. Do not ask me why this lie popped into my head because I hadn't been thinking about it before hand. It worked though. She lit right up like a spark and embarked on a mission. A blush finding plus tutorial mission. But for future reference Sephora-Hive, I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO LIE ABOUT MY SOCIAL LIFE TO WEAR MAKEUP. Just sayin'.

Because my face is sort of like Red Delicious Apple in both shape and color, we she ended up doing a bronzer instead, since, really, I don't need to be any pinker than I already am.

And now I have blush.

Aha.

NaBloPoMo: I'm a bitch

Want to feel like a kinder, more giving, less judgmental person? Just start comparing yourself to me!

Here's what I did on Thursday:

First, I went to lunch with a coworker. At lunch, there was a little boy that I know from the park.

"I don't care for that child. I don't like looking at him. I don't like the way his head is shaped like an upside-down isosceles triangle, and I don't like the way his old parents have turned him into such a socially inept dork. I don't like him at all."

"Jenny, I think he's four."

"I don't discriminate based on age. He's still worthy of my hate."

Then, we drove from lunch back to work, and these three guys were in the crosswalk in front of me. Me, looking at one of them directly in the eye, with my window down.

"You are so ugly."

(He was, and not in a feel-sorry-for-his-hideousness genetic way, but in a too-much-meth-has-left-him-toothless way)

Then he was looking at me and I'm pretty sure he called me a bitch. I don't know for positive because he was muttering, but he did break a beer bottle on the sidewalk, and it was 1 o'clock in the afternoon.

"I don't understand why he's calling me a bitch. I didn't run him over, I let him cross the street, WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU ASSHOLE?"

"Jennifer, you just looked him dead in the eyes and told him he was ugly. That MIGHT be a factor."

"Oh. Yeah. That. Well he IS."

"I didn't say he wasn't ugly, I just said that he had grounds to call you a bitch. I'm also saying that he can totally kick your ass. Drive."

Ever the hooker

On Sunday I went ice skating. I decided to spice things up by winning the show-as-much-cleavage-as-possible-whilst-freezing contest. Woot.

NaBloPoMo: Remindered

I lived with Paris for four years when I was living in Santa Barbara. We were randomly assigned freshman-year roommates, and we...liked each other. Or something.

Anyways, she just emailed me because she wanted to know our addresses while we were in SB/IV/on campus. I clicked reply, and wrote back with every single one. OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD. More proof that my problem is not keeping thoughts in my brain. My problem is keeping USEFUL thoughts in my brain. I can't remember to send in my rent check, but I remember the name of the boy in kindergarten who taught me how to tie my shoes.

There is a point to this story.

It's coming.

Okay here it is:

Paris reminded me of two things.

1. UCSB had CSOs, which were basically dorky guys with bikes who you called when you were wasted and your friends wouldn't let you walk home by yourself. Cuz they didn't want you to get "raped" or "assaulted" or whatever. Okay so it was probably definitely a good idea. Whatever it still sucked at the time. Anyways. You called, and they rode their dandy bicycles to where you were and walked you to your home. I never utilized this service myself, but I vividly remember forcing a livid Paris to use it. It was not so much that I was legitimately concerned for her safety. I was torturing her. Wait, I'll do it some more: Paris, wasn't Ballerina Scot a CSO?

2. The last name of this guy we both (but mainly Paris) used to work with: Tanner. I'm not big on putting first and last names here, because of "privacy" or whatever, but Dave Tanner, where are you? Does anyone know? I would like to know what you're doing with your life, but your name is too common, and thus much too difficult to Google, and I'm not sifting through the 500 choices on Facebook. Dave, should you Google yourself and end up here, I'd like to know what's become of you, okay?

NaBloPoMo: Not the best time to announce that I hate Charles Shulz

I had Veteran's Day off. I went to lunch with my mom/sister/youngest brother/nephews, and then went up to my mom's house, where I tried and failed to post something. My two irritating brothers were sitting behind me reading everything I wrote, and yeah. That makes me slightly self-conscious.

I think I'm wearing a maternity shirt. I'm not sure, because it's not labeled as such, but the front hem is noticeably longer than the back. I'm hoping that I do not look pregnant.

What else? Oh! Ice Skating! Turns out? Ice skating is totally fun! And vigorous exercise. How 'bout that? Vigorous exercise that is fun. It was especially nice because my hangover wanted me to eat french fries, and this made the food orgy a lot less guilt-ridden.

We went to the skating rink at The Redwood Empire Ice Arena, also known as "Snoopy's Home Ice," and a part of the Charles Shulz Museum. Despite my 8th grade participation in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, I've sort of always hated the Peanuts Comic Strip, along with everything that might possibly go with it. I hate it even MORE now that it's just reprints of "Peanuts Classic." It even sucks the joy out of my life more than The Family Circus, I can't really explain why. But! As a testament to ice skating magic, I still had fun, even as pictures of Snoopy were assaulting my brain.

My camera sort of died for the cause with the Double Chin/Cleavage photo shoot, so I only have a couple of sucktastic pictures from Sunday. Monica's cousin took some really cute ones, which I have every intention of stealing at the next available opportunity.

NaBloPoMo: I have to post today but my brothers are annoying

And looking over my shoulder at my mom's house. So. Tomorrow?

In the mean time:

NaBloPoMo: My sister's a lot more fun than I am

I went out with my sister on Saturday. Actually. I made plans to go out with Mira on Saturday, and then I sat on my sister with my knees on her arms and dripped prickly pear mucus into her mouth until she agreed to meet me. And she did.

My sister is neurotic, which makes her just medium fun on a day-to-day basis. When she goes out, which isn't really all that often, the alcohol releases some kind of Charisma Juice into her brain, and before you know it she's casting lesbian bikers in her latest choreographed dance.

On Saturday she decided that what we all needed, absolutely-for-sure, was a series of photos which she called "Double Chin Plus Cleavage for Maximum Skin Folds." I've put together a photo set of the whole evening, which also includes some pictures of us looking like the bar hags that we apparently are. Enjoy yourself:


I feel like it's also worth mentioning that we ate garbage pizza.

BlogHer '09 is going to be Chicago, and I've never been to Chicago, so for now I'll maintain my optimism and say:

NaBloPoMo: I excel at embarrassing my friends

This is Monica:


Today is Monica's birthday. For serious. My first awareness of Monica's existence came to me in the Spring of 2003, at Paris' birthday party. She was the girl that my roommate Daphne would be living with the following year. I have this really amazing picture from that night* where I'm on my bed with all of my roommates and a couple of friends, apparently on the phone and holding a bottle of vodka. This is my first picture of Monica. It's worth noting that, if my memory serves me correctly, this also might have been the night that Julie convinced us all that chasing shots of vodka with shots of rum would be completely legitimate. Or maybe that was a different party.


Anyways. Monononica, my lovely petal, was a part of my it-would-make-you-puke-how-cute-we-were-all-together close group of college friends. Which really just means that she's one of the girls whose boobies I've squeezed, who has had me spill red wine on her couch, who has had me describe plastic surgery on a disturbingly detailed level, and who has accompanied me on many a late-night, ill-advised adventure.


For years, every time I hung out with Monica, she ended up in a state of medical emergency, often culminating in a trip to the ER. She hates it when I tease her about this, and insists that she's much healthier now. As evidence, the last two times we hung out she didn't think she was having a heart attack. So there's something. Or maybe I've just lost my edge.
Monica is the talented photographer who captured this moment of ADORABLE NOMNOM SQUEE from when Gabriel was about 7 months old, and I just felt like including it:


I love this girl so much, I'm driving two hours today to go to her ice skating extravaganza birthday party. Me, one of the most singularly uncoordinated humans on the planet. If that's not devotion, I don't know what is.


I love you baby. Happy birthday!

*Note to self: invest in scanner.

NaBloPoMo: Odds 'n Ends

Some things that I've mentioned recently and then utterly FAILED to follow up on.

My computer: I took it to the Apple Store in San Jose, where they replaced the the top case for free and verified that the deep-down-intimate bits weren't damaged. It runs swimmingly now. Also, I learned that my computer does not have an immersion indicator (the thingie that bleeds red when watered), but the newest Macs that they just rolled out? Totally do. So y'all are screwed if you were planning on chucking your new computers in the dishwasher.

Driver's License: After that last call, I called again and they were all "What what? Your license was never suspended! We mailed it to you and it came back return to sender!" And that was....different. And then the nice man verified my address and resent it to me. Then the VERY NEXT DAY my mom called because I had mail from the DMV....which said that "effective August 31, 2008, your license is no longer suspended." THAT was a whole 'nother round of CONFUSED and HUH and Dear DMV, you make my ears bleed, because I called again, and my license WAS NEVER SUSPENDED. But. I have my new license, which is shiny and pretty and also? I don't look like an angry prison dyke with a mullet. So that's something.

Internet: I still don't have "real" internet at home, but I have my mom's dial-up info, which I've been using for posting purposes, in case you were curious. Unfortunately I still can't look at midget porn.

Unsolicited Workout DVDs: The Carmen Electra one sucks balls and has already been purged from my house, but the Jillian Michaels one is actually pretty good. Except that thinking about why I own it makes Hate Rays shoot out of my brain.

The total lack of boys in my life right now: Meh, the same.

Distracted by my own offspring

Gabriel's dad sent me this picture from his phone a couple weeks ago, and I really just love it so much that I can't even glare at it when I'm mad. It's a good thing we managed to have such a cute baby, because it's kept us from killing each other.

I'm going to an ice skating party on Sunday. For an adult.

Happy Friday everyone!

NaBloPoMo: An area of expertise for NO ONE

I mentioned this in passing last week, but I've decided that it warrants a slightly more involved explanation.

A couple of weeks ago, a co-worker an I had an all day Excel training workshop, which was held on UCSC's campus (it was super fun, doesn't it sound super fun??). I've was born and raised in the Santa Cruz area, but I have never been terribly familiar with the campus itself; I know how to get to exactly four specific places; three are places where my friends lived in college.

Note: This is a vast a sprawling campus, with many steep hills and small paths through the redwoods.

I went to the training with my coworker, but afterwords she needed to go back to work and I did not, so I was going to take a bus downtown to pick up Gabriel.

Training was in some middle Westish part of campus with which I was totally unfamiliar, so at the end of class I asked the instructor how to get to a regular bus stop (there are shuttles that run though campus, and we were on a road for those shuttles, but I was trying to get to the main loop of buses that run through from downtown). He starts to explain with some normal answer about walking up a hill and turning left or some such, when a woman interrupts him:

"Excuse me. This happens to be my area of expertise."

She turns to me:

"What you want to do is once you leave the building, if you turn left there's a stop sign. This is not a shuttle stop. BUT. When you see the shuttle coming, if you jump out in front of it and wave your arms around, it'll stop for you. Then you're going to take this shuttle for about two stops, but ask if the driver can let you off just beyond the second stop. Then you'll want to cross a field..."

At this point I stopped listening.

Outside, I'm looking at the shuttle map trying to figure out where I am, because NEVER is leaping in front of a moving bus the answer to my question. Then another girl from class came outside:

"You need to get to a regular bus stop?"

"Yeah."

"I'm parked right across from one if you wanna walk with me."

"Thanks."

Yeah, two minutes later I was at a bus stop, no jumping in front of moving vehicles or hiking across fields involved, and no thanks to Crazyface.

P.S. Still having a giveaway over here.

Pictures that should have been attached to other things

I totally had a rocking patriotic outfit for voting purposes (ignore the circles of exhaustion under my eyes; I am a single mom):

Remember Gabriel's costume indecision? Here are some different phases that he went through with his costume:

P.S. Still having a giveaway over here.

NaBloPoMo: Proud to be an American, feeling unsure about being a Californian

Yes. Yes we did. My first presidential election was in 2000, and since I've never voted for W., I've also never voted for a winning candidate. This year I was just really afraid to get my hopes up at all because I just couldn't take the disappointment of loss. And then....it happened. Some haphazard thoughts:

1. John McCain's concession speech reminded me that I used to like John McCain. He's recently swung so far to the right in an apparent attempt to woo the crazies that I had totally written him off as just another fundamentalist weirdo. But watching him speak last night, I remembered what I used to think about him. I used to believe that while we shared idealogical differences, McCain was a man of integrity who cared deeply about this country. I think I'm getting ready to believe that again. Especially if he can shed Tina Fey Sarah Palin.

2. Seriously??? It's thus far looking like Proposition 8, a ban on gay marriage, is winning? This is extremely disappointing.

3. I think the ballot measure I was most concerned about was Prop 5, an initiative that, "will reduce prison overcrowding, increase public safety, cut costs, expand drug treatment programs inside California's prisons, and start the state's first drug treatment program for at-risk youth." It upsets me deeply that it did not pass. California's prison system is pitiful and overcrowded and underfunded. This was common sense, and it would have helped.

4. Yes we did. If I had a "Proud to be an American" shirt, I would totally be rocking that shit today.

Psst. I'm giving something away on my shopping site. Go over here to check it out.

NaBloPoMo: I can't talk about anything until after today

Please Vote

Oh and by the way

Look how cute we all are in purple. With my coworkers, out for a retirement party (only one of these people irritates me, can you guess which?):

NaBloPoMo: I stole Literal Dan's notation system

I had this super plan for today, which involved my camera, which is indeed full of pictures. It is also at my house...where I am not. Without my adorable offspring to distract you, it's possible that you might discover my poor sentence structure and inability to string thoughts together, and commence to wander away for greener pastures. Oh well.

Since Gabriel was sick on Thursday, it no doubt surprised no one but me that I got sick on Friday. In the morning I mostly thought I was hungover, even though I hadn't really had too much to drink the night before. By the time it was time to go trick-or-treating, I was curled into the fetal position on my mom's couch with a pillow over my face. They went without me. Gabriel was Spider-Man for a minute* (and SO excited, GIANT smooches to Steenky Bee, of course). But before we left for my mom's house he gently informed me that this most prized outfit was "a special Spider-Man suit" and therefore could not be worn to Grandma's house, where it might get ruined, or he might need to share it, or Elliot might touch it. I'd prefer he leaves stuff he's obsessed with at home anyways, because I'd always rather avoid the battle. I brought his Dragon costume to my mom's house.
My nephews were also at my mom's, and they each had two costumes to choose from: for Simon it was a pirate or a dragon, for Elliot, a puppy or a cowboy. Since Simon decided to be a dragon, Gabriel was pretty pleased with how grown-up and sophisticated his costume was. He got suited up, and my sister painted him a "dragon face," which turned out to be red, blue and yellow circles, and painted eyebrows.** But when Elliot woke up from his nap and wanted to be a cowboy, that changed his opinions a little bit. Gabriel ended up walking out of the house as a "pirate dragon."***
Anyhow. My mom said that Gabriel was really good and walked the whole way without fussing or whining. Gabriel didn't go too insane over his candy and mainly was just happy to own it. I stole all of his Reese's and Take Five Bars. I didn't go out because I was dying.
In the future, when I have the stomach flu, I probably won't make the choice to watch Resident Evil.

*Pretend you're looking at a picture of Gabriel as Spider-Man.
**This is a picture of Gabriel as a dragon, and maybe one of my nephews too.
***This is where a picture would be extra helpful.

NaBloPoMo: This turned out a lot creepier than I intended

Sometimes I read someone's blog, and I feel love. I become a fan. I care, and I don't care if they don't care about me. It's not just that they have something interesting to say, or even that I really like them. It's that I'm totally convinced that if we were to meet at some party in real life, THEY would really like ME. We would totally be BFFs because hello? We have so much in common, and, um totally the same sense of humor and stuff.

So I leave you comments and really really really just want you to LIKE me. Do you like me? I want you to like me. So that eventually you'll love me. You love me right?

Then I have an epiphany. Steve, who lives in his grandmother's basement and collects celebrity nail clippings THINKS THE EXACT SAME THING. He's totally convinced that if Angelina Jolie just MET him, just ONCE, she would totally realize that they're meant to move to Montana together and raise guinea fowl.

Steve's there, writing intense fan mail to a stranger, just wanting her to LIKE HIM.

Okay, so I guess one difference might be that I don't hide dead bodies in my mattress. Yet.

I was going end this with a list of blogs with which I am obsessed, but since I accidentally turned it all crazy-like, and I don't want y'all blocking me, I just...won't.

NaBloPoMo '08

It's Saturday! Are you shocked to hear from me? I'm totally shocked to hear from me. But do you know what today is? (Hint, I sorta made it the title of this post).

That's right! Today is November 1st, the first day of NaBloPoMo, and I've foolishly ambitiously signed myself up for the party. I foresee approximately five big hurdles to my daily posting goals:

1. I don't have internet at home, yet I have (admittedly minor) guilt issues about the ethics of blogging at work. What I do now is write my entries at home, keep them on a flash drive, and post from work. I don't work on the weekends, so I'm going to have to figure something else out. The answer is not the obvious GET INTERNET AT HOME STUPID one, because, though it would be convenient, right now the U.S. economic downturn combined with an apparent cessation of support from Gabriel's fatherishcharacterperson have made it pretty impossible for me to spend....hardly any moneys at all. So until I figure that piece of mystery out, I'm afraid that the current situation will have to continue.

2. I don't really have very many interesting things to say. Maybe you think that's obvious, on account of the fact that you read this blog, but those 5ish posts a week are pretty taxing on my seventeen brain cells, and I'm not sure if I can pop out two more per week without having an aneurysm.

3. I'm going to the California Library Association Annual Conference November 14-17th. I don't really know what that's going to involve. Because librarians are awesome creatures, I have no doubt that the conference will be wired, but I'm not sure how I'll be dealing with the levels of Insane and Overwhelmed and Too Much Networking. (See I learned a lesson from BlogHer '08).

4. Thanksgiving. How am I supposed to manage to blog for an ENTIRE three day weekend when it's essentially a guarantee that I'll be sitting around my house doing and thinking nothing?

5. What if the unthinkable happens, and John McCain wins the presidential election? I'll have officially lost all faith in my country, and hung myself in my backyard, thus eliminating my ability to blog. Unless I can blog post-humously. Hmmmm....

Let the games begin!