30 July 2009

Miss Grace ~ double fisting it

Yeah, so, remember that thing I went to in Chicago? It was just as much fun as you might imagine....

29 July 2009

The time drips past

11pm My brothers are asleep on the floor. My mom, her cousin Sydney, my aunt Rebecca are all lounging on couches around the hospital bed, drinking wine, gossiping. He's in the bed, unconscious, on oxygen, his naked chest covered with a sheet. Gabriel was asleep in the car, is overtired now, but there is so much going on in this strange night time place. He can't fall asleep.

12am Gabriel and I are in the kitchen, eating toast.
Mom, he says, his eyes very wide, in a semi-whisper, Did you know that Grandpa is dying?
Yeah honey, yeah I know.

1ish We are all sitting around the bed, gossiping, drinking wine, occasionally erupting in fits of giggles. We have to talk about funny things, we have to gossip, it's the only way to be here. Every time he draws a ragged, shallow breath, is this the last one? My mom pulls down the sheet, feels his chest.
-It's that fucking pace maker.

2am Rebecca has drifted downstairs, where Jonathon is cooking. Sydney is asleep on the couch, snoring. Gabriel has finally drifted off. My mom is dutifully moistening his mouth, alternating doses of morphine and ativan, kissing his forehead.
-It's time to stop, Dad. It's time to stop

3am I take Gabriel to lay him down in Grandpa's bed, everyone but my mom is asleep.
-I'll be right back

Just before dawn Everything's done, she says, standing over his bed, in his room, where Gabriel, Sydney and I are sleeping. How did I get here? He didn't make it to dawn. I'm so glad he didn't have to suffer through another day. We hug. Everything's going to be okay.

6am I stumble downstairs. My mom's taken the boys back home. Rebecca and Ben are on the couch, Becca wrapped up in Grandpa's quilt. It's cold. I put on my grandfather's sweatshirt. Take it out of the clean laundry on his dresser. Jonathon fumbles over making coffee. We remember things. Childhood things, earlier things.

630am Gabriel wakes up, yelling for me.
-I want to go home.

-Let's go to Grandma's house.
My glasses are still in the library, I think I left them on the couch, next to the hospital bed. I'm carrying Gabriel. A red quilt is pulled up over him, his beret is resting on his chest.
-Why is his face covered mom?
-Because he's dead now.
-So you covered up his head?
-Yeah honey, that's just his body now, Grandpa's gone.

7am Daniel is sleepy but not sleeping on the couch. He's changed his clothes for the first time in days. I open the door to my mom's room, where she and James are fast asleep.

730am Everyone left me, at the end.
-I meant to come back, I don't know what happened.
-No, it was okay. I needed to be alone with him. It was the first time I've been alone with him in weeks. I needed to be alone, so I could tell him that he had to let go. I told him to stop. I told him to stop breathing, that it was time. And he did.

We hug.

8am My dad comes home.
-I couldn't go to work today. I told them I had to go home.
I think my mom and I are both surprised by the tears in his eyes, by how affected he is by this.
My mom hands me a cup of coffee. I'm standing in the laundry room. Suddenly, the coffee is dripping down the wall, and I only have half left in my cup. How did that happen? Did I stumble? Did I throw it?
We go for a walk, my parents, Gabriel and I, a walk down around the pond. Walking slowly. Walking so slowly.
-I have to take Gabriel home for a little while. We need to be at home. I'll be back.

1030am I'm home, though I hardly remember getting here. Gabriel watches a movie, we eat, we lie in bed together.

1pm I'm driving back to my mom's, I still haven't slept. I have to pull over because I'm seeing double, because I'm hallucinating. Finally I get there. I carry my sleeping son to my mom's room, we both slip into silence.

5pm I'm awake, but barely. By limbs are like lead. I have to fight to get out of bed, to get Gabriel out of bed. We can't sleep all day and be up all night, we have to go back to our lives tomorrow.

Yesterday I go through work in a fog. Julia takes me out to lunch, we run into my mom. There are insane things happening in my family right now. We laugh. How can you not laugh? I pick Gabriel up from school. He's distraught.
-Are you sad honey?
Grandpa's dead. And Elijah says they're going to burn him, and I don't want him to be burned.

-Oh honey honey. It's okay. It's okay. That's just his body. He's not there anymore. It's not scary for him and it doesn't hurt him. Everything's going to be okay.

Today I get a card from my coworkers. I hate cards. Because my grandfather was well-known in our community, the notes inside are thoughtful and specific, which makes me hate the card more, but also hold it dearly. I'm so tired. Everything is foggy. I'm not sad. But I am. I'm not crying, but I'm just so tired.

28 July 2009

Sorrelli Jewelry may or may not get hot girls to make out with you

As I er I mean Dawn mentioned before I left, Sorrelli was kind enough to gift me with some jewelry to wear at BlogHer. Awesome, beautiful jewelry. I think the idea was to have earrings and a necklace, but my gold necklace is the only thing keeping my head attached to my body. I opted for earrings and a bracelet instead:

Lovely, no? Absolutely GORGEOUS in person. The colors are amazing, and the clasps are sturdy (that's an important thing for me - Master Loser of Jewels). Anyhow. Beautiful, timeless, well-constructed, stylish (I got a LOT of compliments). HIGHLY RECOMMEND is what I'm saying. They totally pulled the outfit together:

I want to say that Sorrelli jewelry gets you laid, but I think the FTC might not let me, so. While I lack the scientific evidence to substantiate that claim, I'd like to show you this:

Go! Shop!
Photo Credit goes to Angie.
Disclosure and Shizz: Sorrelli gave me this jewelry to wear, with the understanding that I would promote it at BlogHer. This is not a paid post. I only work with brands and companies that I respect.

85 Years



27 July 2009

I wrote this on the Airplane (BlogHer09)

I wrote this on the airplane. I'll talk about the grandpa stuff when I have a moment to breathe.
Okay so I got into Chicago on Wednesday night, which involved an accidental sub-street level trek with Grace Davis. I was a bit grimy from walking underneath the road, so a quick ho bath was in order before I could come down and meet my peeps at the bar. There was a lot of excited drinking and hugging and love of the breasts, because that's how I do. Then I smoked WAY TOO MANY CIGARETTES for someone who doesn't smoke. Mr. Lady is bad fucking influence. Shenanigans. Serious fucking shenanigans.

hijinks ensue

I ended up spooning with Maria and doing a walk of shame the next morning, complete with walking barefoot through the lobby at 8 am, which is extra awesome when all these people in full CUTE mode are starting their days and filling it with cuteness. I'm still drunk motherfuckers.
Thursday I technically didn't have plans, so there were all sorts of THINGS I could have done. Like leave the hotel for instance. What I actually did do was participate in the Great Room 704 Swag Bag Assembly Line, staged in Queen of Spain's room. Holy holy, I was blown away by how quickly and efficiently this logistical STUFF nightmare got knocked out.
After that I sort of casually strolled into the BlogHer Business cocktail party, on the assurances of the people there who said I could. Went upstairs for 27 seconds, before I walked over to the Social Luxe party, based on the I HAVE TO GO pleas of Miss Jodi. Then she wouldn't stop apologizing for 'dragging' Laurin and I along, even though I kept telling her that she didn't need to apologize. Jodi babe? No need.
From Luxe to The People's Party, which was utter madness. I can't remember who I saw where, but I do remember that I didn't find Jenny even though I specifically looked for her in the bathroom. And Nakedjen got naked. Because she's Nakedjen.
From The People's Party to the hard crazy crush of the Room 704 party, which I only ever-so-vaguely recall. I'm waiting for the pictures to pop on Flickr to help me piece the night together. I do remember that I got to hug Heather, which was warm fuzzies of goodness.
Miraculously (especially considering I'm on California time) I got my ass out of bed in time for breakfast the next morning. Friday also marked the first day of my daytime shoe boycott. I was dressed all fancy in my Banana Republic dress, but, y'know, barefoot. Women would smile knowingly and ask if I'd had to ditch the uncomfortable shoes. Well. No. I mean, they're in my room, but I also have flip flops in the room, so. This is also the official reason that I didn't leave the hotel. Shoes. Other than the slightly sticky escalator, and the very real possibility that I walked in pee when I used the bathroom, I wasn't particularly bothered.
I was mysteriously on the list of invitees for the Green Works Luncheon, where we served tasty vegan food and given the opportunity to pick the brains of the Green Works folks. I have NO idea how I got on that list, since it seemed to me that everyone else in the room was either well-known, or writing a specifically eco-conscious blog, or both. And me! Hi guys! Thanks for having me! Green = Good! Anyhow, the Clorox Green Works people were lovely, and the food was delicious. Everyone else was wearing shoes.
I was the liveblogger for the Brands & Business panel, which I thought was actually quite impressively done (the panel not the liveblogging), though a lot of it was reiteration for me. I do recommend checking out the liveblog if you're looking for information on working with brands. Everyone else was wearing shoes.
Next I liveblogged the Mommyblogging/Microblogging panel. Erin was wearing a very fancy outfit, and was simultaneously twittering on two devices AND acting as panel moderator, which was quite impressive. I had a couple of things I wanted to say, but I was trying to type, and of course now I don't remember what I wanted to say in the first place, because my brain is little more than a fancy sieve. Everyone else was in shoes, and Erin's were clear!
Up in Room 704 (okay it was a different room number, whatevs), I mixed vanilla vodka and chambord together in an empty Starbuck's cup with amazing results. Jenny the Bloggess dubbed it the Unicorn Period, and it was pretty much MADE OF MAGIC. I'm pretty sure that's what unicorn periods actually taste like. The community keynote made me snot and cry like a snotty crying baby (look it up on youtube), so afterwards I had to go wipe off the ugly and lie face down on my bed for awhile.
I'm certain I took two showers while I was in Chicago. But I'm not certain when.
Friday night I wore the crazy backless dress and tried to remember to suck in my gut. There was a brief stop into the official cocktail party before I went to Nikon. IN A LIMO (life list people, life list). At the Nikon party Jenny tried to convince Carson Kressley she was a drag queen named Honey so she could seduce him, but he was totally onto her. Also he looked like he was made of plasticine. Also we were on the river and this boat of cute boys tried to scale the wall but the bar said no. Also all of the drinks tasted like fairy dust and magic. Also I licked Jenny's breast, and I'm pretty sure that means she's pregnant or something, because things work differently in the midwest. Although if she's pregnant, than there are some other people who might be pissed, because I was doing a fair amount of breast licking. That's just how I roll.
Then back to the hotel where I went to MamaPop, and I was seriously wastyface. I drank whiskey, people. On the one hand I was obnoxious and probably positively acting stupid. On the other I got to make out with some really hot girls and eat a unicorn's left butt cheek. By the way Pop Rocks plus making out is sort of magical, and also tasty. I'm pretty sure I warned everyone that I like to make out when I'm drunk. Plus I think I picked up Busydad because when I drink I like to pick up things/people. Or make out. Or I guess both but I haven't quite processed the logistics of that yet.
SATURDAY hangover city. Liveblogged the homeschooling jobbyjob. Then I told Mr. Of Spain that he had to come down to the lobby and hang out with me. And we played with a coffee table for 3 hours. Literally. Three hours. Undomestic Diva talked about going to the Married with Children Fountain, went, came back, showed us pictures, left, and we were still playing with a coffee table. Then we played with it too much and it broke and then I realized I only had five minutes to get to the panel on the BlogHer Ads network.
I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling for awhile, took a shot of limoncello for Holly, maybe showered? I know that I showered twice on this trip, because I remember both as magical rejuvenating showers of awesomesauce, but I can't seem to place when these jesus showers might have occurred. Anyhow then I went up and gave VDog a little backrub, and ate approximately 47 taquitos while curing my hangover with drunkenness (works every time). Once again vanilla vodka (by the way Dawn I think the next time I see you I owe approximately 27 vanilla vodka + ? = magic cocktails), this time mixed sparingly with some weird swag beverage that was mostly water. On account of the drinking and the hangover and the fact that the beds at the Sheraton are like evil suction cup beds of pillowy softness that trap you in their folds for hours at a time, it took a longass time to get to BowlHer, where my boa was a circle.
Lamely attempted to go to CheeseburgHer, but it was VERY crowded and smelling of hot meat, and I ran into Jenny in the hallway yelling about giant vaginas, and then Aaron told me he was on a magical walk outside, but not so far outside that I'd have to put my shoes back on. But I couldn't find the doors. The approximately 10 doors to outside. So he had to come get us. Although in my defense Jenny wasn't doing much better. I kept pouring liquor from my bottomless flask but not any kind of mixer into Jenny's bottle of something pink and I'm telling you what. VANILLA VODKA IS THE NECTAR OF THE GODS. Tanis had just been devirginized in the best possible way, so then we went back up to their room to celebrate BlowHer, which was hands down the best party of the entire weekend, except that Undomestic Diva wound up in Detroit, possibly pregnant. The password was pussy, and the swag was Mexican diet pills. If you don't want them because they're Mexican you're a racist. Much like the unicorn's butt cheek, BlowHer was like childhood on a stick with dick inside you in a good way (credit for that genius to Sarah Dopp, who is my new girl crush. You can also credit her for the pop rocks).
I finally got Loralee to follow me back on twitter by holding her bra hostage. It worked.

P.S. I wore shoes all day Wednesday and Thursday, and for all of the parties but BlowHer, which was shoe-optional. Maybe it was even clothing optional?

P.P.S. All of my photos are here. Except some boob ones that I'm holding back for Boob Emancipation.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

26 July 2009

I'm pretty sure Nikon likes babies

I want to quickly address this #nikonhatesbabies twitter drama. I was there. Maria and I were standing outside the bar when the woman (whom I do not personally know), brought her young infant, in a bucket carrier, to the party. The bouncer told her that her baby would not be allowed in the bar. As someone who worked in that industry for many years, I suspect that the bar legally is not allowed to have anyone under 21 in the bar, however unlikely they are to drink. It's a liquor licensing issue, and if Alcoholic Beverage Control were to come, they could get cited, fined, or lose their license.

What I observed was the bar and Nikon staff respectfully and apologetically telling a mother that her child was not allowed in a bar. I would think that any mother would assume that this would be the case. Regardless of that, the baby was in a bucket seat at waist level. The party was dark, loud and crowded. A child in a bulky contraption in that kind of environment is just waiting to get bumped into, or to have a drink spilled on its head. I don't think it was a safe place for an infant, and I would never consider bringing mine. It's ludicrous to say that based on this there's a PR person at Nikon who deserves to be fired. They handled it professionally.
I'm sorry if the mother who was turned away had her night ruined by that, I mean, I get it, it sucks when you can't go somewhere without nailing down a babysitter. That said, what she should have done was ask if she could bring her child, because I never assume my son is welcome at cocktail parties, and I know for a fact that he is not welcome in venues from which he is legally prohibited.

So let's all unbunch our panties and move on. It was a fun party, I'm sorry if you couldn't find a sitter.

I'll start with a list

Let me just knock this out before I do anything else. People whose cards are in the bottom of my purse, in the order that I'm digging them out:

Susan Getgood
Busy Mom
Aiming Low
A Whole Lot of Nothing
My Wine Education
Average Jane
My Therapy
Sarah Dopp
Velveteen Mind
Chef's Widow
thoughts of THAT mom
Chris Mann
Mr. Lady
Dutch Blitz
Wife & Mommy
Grace Davis
Room 704
Knotty Yarn
Surrender, Dorothy
Gemini Girl
Sprite's Keeper
Shauna Glenn
ann's rants
Traveling Mamas
Diary of a CRAZED Mommy
Queen of Spain
Child's Play X2
Friends of Maddy
The Wind In Your Vagina
The Karianna Spectrum
Bitchin' Wives Club
Mommy Bits
Jenny on the Spot
The Bloggess
Mommy is Moody
Rock & Roll Mama
Gadget Spin
If Mom Says OK
Domestic Extraordinaire

Miss Britt
Art Slam
Charming & Delightful
Attack of the Redneck Mommy
Condo Blues
barefoot foodie

I met a whole fucksauce lot more people than that, but I figure now I can lose my business cards without the mild twinge of guilt. It was lovely meeting y'all!

Also I liveblogged here, here, here and here, if you'd like to have a look.

More later, when I feel more like a human and less like chewed over piece of gum.

Royal Jewels

This is Julia:


I've known her since I was seven. Which, for those of you keeping track, means that she's been in my life for longer than my two youngest brothers. Although we haven't gone to school together/been doing the particularly same thing since 5th grade, we've been friends throughout.

She's smart and funny and ADORABLE and sweet and she's totally the ying to my yang, yo.

I love her

I've never gone out with her and NOT had fun, which if you think about it, is really saying something.

She introduced me to bacon-wrapped hot dogs.

She can justify almost any shopping purchase.

She lets me grab her boobs.

She's 27 today.

Go wish her a happy birthday on her blog or on twitter.

22 July 2009

A love letter to my family

I'm on an airplane.

Right this very second.

An airplane that's going to BlogHer.

In Chicago.

I'm sitting next the beautiful, wonderful, kind Grace Davis, who's um, blogging, all productive-like.

So far it's been good.

My oft-mocked 17-year-old brother is in charge of my baby boy for the next three days. He has money and my bus pass and my house key and my pool key and my bike seat and, of course, my parents.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love my family? I love them. They are supportive and generous and loyal and simply grand. Thanks for making it possible for me to go on this trip guys.

My grandpa's not doing so well.
He's not looking so much like this:
James' interpretation to Grandpa
He's pretty much in bed all the time. His great big king sized bed where my mom can sit in his wheelchair and hold his hand and my sister can sit up at the top and kiss his head sometimes and feed him pudding or water from a sponge and I can sit down at the bottom and keep him from kicking his legs off of the edge.
He's lucid at times. Doing better at times. Restless and uncomfortable at times.
Hospice came (so dreadful, hospice, that harbinger, that grim forshadowing of the end), and he's sleeping in the hospital bed they delivered, when he's sleeping, but his great big king sized bed is much nicer for everyone sitting around and talking and being there and injecting some liveliness into a room that could so very easily be so flat.
I love that my family can gather and tend and care and take care of our own. I see what happens in other homes, and I'm so grateful for the unending loyalty, comfort, protection and affection.
I love them.
I love you.

And I'm on an airplane flying halfway across the country, leaving my sweet boy behind to be cared for by loving people who keep him safe and happy.

When I get off this airplane I'm stepping into BlogHer.
I'll set things aside, so as better to cope. I cope by compartmentalizing, by setting things aside. There's fun to be had, and I will be having it.
I'll set some things aside, but not the love.

Now when I get to the hotel, who owes me a drink??

books, books, everywhere

This is a part of a blog swap through 20-something bloggers. My post appears here, and is much....less....good. Hope you enjoy!
Also fabulous guest post on Disgraced Shopping. And I mean FABULOUS. PHOTOS OF BOOBS FABULOUS.
What was your favorite book growing up? I had so many, it was hard to pick just one or two and say "yes, that book is my favorite."My mother is a librarian, so there was never any shortage of books in our home, and it is still the case today. Now, being a grownup (some days!), I live alone in a small apartment in DC where I don't have the space I'd like, but I certainly have books.

Books, books, everywhere.


I have three shelves; one tall and two short, all crammed with books. In addition, there are three piles. By piles, I mean, that there are three stacks of books per pile, each with at least 50 books per pile. So, multiply that by the three, there are probably 150 books that are not on a shelf.

Insane? Yes, for sure!

I've always been a voracious reader. In fifth grade, I remember this "project" where each us made an ice cream cone from construction paper with our name on the cone. Each time we read a book, we had to write a one-page "report" on it, and then we could pick a color to make a scoop of ice cream to add to our cone. At the end of the year, there was an ice cream party where for every ten paper scoops we had, we'd get one scoop of ice cream.

I had eight scoops of ice cream. I read more than 80 books. Granted, this was fifth grade, so I don't think I was reading Crime and Punishment, but it still seems like a good number of books read, considering most people had two, maybe three scoops.

For the record, I didn't eat eight scoops...I gave some away :)

One of my all time favorite children's book is Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney. It has the most beautiful illustrations and talks about Miss Rumphuis, an old lady and retired librarian who sets out to achieve her life's goals and make the world a more beautiful place. Interestingly, it seems there are many resources for teachers out there who are using this book in their classroom (yet another reason that I should become a teacher!).

Even though it has been more than twenty years since I first read this book, it has stayed with me through the years and I think of the story from time to time, and think about how I can achieve my own goals and make the world more beautiful.

I'm Lexi and I blog over at Tea and Crumpets. Stop by and say hello!

21 July 2009

Sorrelli (and kaisermommy) LOVE ME

Written by kaisermommy from Room704. You should see the ad she designed for me.
Our friend Angie has a store with the best children's toys Good For The Kids. In her store, she also sells some beautiful jewelry from Sorrelli which is Good For The Ladies.

Angie and Lily from Sorrelli worked to pull together a group to wear the jewelry at BlogHer and tell all ya'll about it. (YES. The items below, we received free of charge.)

Since I live 1. Closer to PA (where Sorrelli is located) AND 2. VDog and Miss Grace are leavin' on a jet plane a day earlier than me, *I* got all three batches of bling at my house on Tuesday.

I know there will be no time for VDog and Miss Grace to show off their bewbs jewelry before BlogHer, and I wanted them, and you, to get a feel for what to expect.

So I posed:


I did my best to model VDog



Something didn't feel quite right



That's better.

Now to channel Jennifer Grace.



Well, this just won't do. We need a close up.


Oh. Whoops. Wrong kind of close up.




Crap. It's blurry. What would Jenny do?


Oh it's gonna be a great weekend!

Would YOU like some Sorrelli bling?

Use the discount code BLOGHER5 for an extra 5% off, even on sale items. The coupon will be active through Sunday 7/26. This week (ending Friday) they also have a Summer Sale going on, spend $100 and get 15% off, so you have the chance to get a total of 20% off your purchases.

A Very Short List of People Who Can Suck It

People who cheat at cards
Gabriel's dad

20 July 2009

Let's do something Cheery!

I have several sad/serious/thoughtful posts saved to draft right now. I'm trying not to get too angsty right before I fly to Chicago to bury my face in everybody's boobs. And then I'll have all the recapping of excitement and joy to do! So! Bonus! You probably have until August before I turn this place into a den of death and money troubles and friendship woes and Life, Life is Very Sad for Living Sometimes.

So! In lieu of all that, photos!

Summertime BBQ at Carl's

Gabey and I went up to my friend Carl's house in Fremont. Paris was in town, and Cody-My-Love came over from SF. It was the first time probably since 2003 that we've all been in the same room. I thought all of my pics uploaded while I was dreaming last night, but apparently NOT (like, no good pictures of Pare? The hell?), so here's some of what did.

Batman takes on the pumpkins




We had fun. I love my friends.

The end.

But not The End, cuz we're gonna hang out more.

19 July 2009

Sunday Driving

Today Gabriel and I are gonna go visit Paris, who's in town for the weekend. Paris and I were randomly assigned roommates our freshman year at UCSB, and random room assignment worked so well for us, we ended up living together for four years.

Now I haven't SEEN her for four years.

I'm off to introduce her to my son, and to reminisce about the old days.

So. Squee!


Class. The Definition.

Florence, 2002

Dublin Post Office, 2002

17 July 2009

BlogHer Packing List (Photo-Heavy)

First, ignore the dingy bra - I have appropriate underwear for all of the dresses. Pretend you don't see the bra.

Second, yes that's Gabriel taking a bath in the background.

Third, I didn't bother taking pictures of shirts, because you've seen all my shirts. But I am bringing a couple, don't worry!


Definitely coming with me:

New Dress From Anthropologie
New Dress From Anthropologie
I just got this dress on sale from Anthropologie. I've been lusting after it since February and finally! Got it for $60.

New Dress From Anthropologie
My mommy got me this one when we were in Santa Barbara.

BR Dress
This one's from Banana Republic. I bought it when I got my tax return.

Black Dress
From Al_Pal. <3 her.

Banana Republic Trouser Jeans
And these jeans (Banana Republic) because I think they look cute on my butt. Don't they look cute on my butt?

And the maybes-Tell me what you think?

Mervyn's Stripey Dress
Mervyn's Stripey Dress

Crazy Backless No Underwear Dress
Crazy Backless No Underwear Dress
This one cannot be worn with any underwear at all, so I've only worn it once or twice...

Purple Dress
Purple Dress

3 Dots Dress
3 Dots Dress

AND there's a bunch of other dresses I'm thinking of bringing but I got tired of trying them on. Dresses don't take up much space, right?

16 July 2009

Girl Talk Thursday - Turn Ons

A bullet-point list, in no particular order:
  • Backs. Manly muscular backs, soft women's backs. I love backs. Everyone's backs.
  • Hip bones.
  • Lips.
  • Cute outfits (on me).
  • You in an under shirt.
  • Alcohol - I'm a very lovey snuggly grabby happy drunk. Also? Lowered inhibitions. (BlogHers consider yourselves warned)
  • Making out - Should go without say, but I'm very fond of kissing.
  • Compliments - Flattery can get you just about anywhere.
  • Boobs. Duh.
  • Being kissed in unexpected places - The hollow at the base of my neck, behind my ear, my shoulder, the backs of my knees.
  • People who are smarter than me.
  • Music.
  • Erotica.
  • Strong hands.
  • Feeling pretty/hot/sexy.
  • Hard work - Seriously nothing hotter than watching someone hard at work. It just makes me want to distract them.
  • Tattoos - But not ugly/obscene/poorly thought out ones.
  • Flirting.
  • Watching movies/talking/whatever with my head or my legs in your lap.
  • Good cooks.
  • Unexpected physical contact - like an unexpected hand squeeze, or touching my lower back as I walk through a door.
  • Too many people to list. Actors, actresses, musicians, people I know, etc.
EDIT because I read some of the other posts and realized I forgot some stuff:
  • Being told what to do.
  • Talk dirty to me.
  • Having my hair pulled (if you know how to do it right).
  • Watching men think.
  • Fresh showered man smell.
  • Being woken up, because I'm being kissed/fondled/touched.
  • Sex in unexpected places.
  • Fumbling around in the dark trying to be quiet.

14 July 2009

The Best Hug I've Ever Received

I came back from lunch, and I had this email from Molly. I love her so much and it made me so happy, I had to share:

An Incomplete List of Things I Love About Jenny Grace

* That I can call you Grace and you respond (There are too many Jennies in the world, and you're far too unique to have everyone else's name)

* That you really don't like most people, but for some reason like me

* That for the people you DO love, you are fiercely loyal

* You're a good mom

* Your eyes change color

* When you were in college you watched a kid pee on your roommate and you made him stop. Even though that made him angry.

* You have an uncanny ability to laugh at all of the crazy in your life

* Remember that drunk day we had when we were 20, where we drank at the Tea House and felt strange, and then took the bus home and walked to my parents' house in the rain?

* I loved your pretty dresses you'd wear when we'd go swing dancing

* You introduced me to Wednesdays at the Thrift Center

* You always want to share an avocado crepe with me. And usually a farm fresh fruit crepe. And for years neither one of us has ever seen a problem with ordering anything else off the menu. The only variation is if we decide to drink mimosas or not.

* The first time you signed my yearbook you just wrote "Buy better clothes over the summer."

* The night with Newcastle on the rocks is still my favorite bonding experience

* The day after Christmas 2003 SEEMS like it would be memorable, but every time we reference that day, it's only a full memory if we piece together what you remember, what I remember and what Adam remembers.

* That you wanted Jack in the box, so you skipped the mean people, made very little comment about the car of naked people, and hopped in the security truck. And your only question during that half hour was "Molly where did you get a burger from?!?"

* I love how you try to share gossip by tilting your head, squinting and putting new information in the form of a question ("What about how...?")

* You're very good at doing your own hair, when you feel the need to be cute

* You taught me how to cook vegetables

* I can tell you when I want to buy a theoretical item in great detail, and you'll find it for me for under $60 online (example, "Jenny... I'd really like a red, swingy halter dress. But not the kind of red that looks bad on me.")

* You planned out my dream Ireland wedding for me for fun when I was 22.

* You still came to my wedding when it wound up being in Philadelphia

* All of the things you feel are right or wrong have very specific anecdotal origins.

* You know more about classical mythology than me, and I was a classics major.

* You jumped off the grape arbor at your sister's wedding and sprained both of your ankles.

* You've been nice to everyone I've dated.

* You do a great fake dance so frequently, I think you sometimes forget which way is your "real" way of dancing.

* You used to pay rent for a hole between rose bushes.

* You didn't tell me it was a bad idea to drink tang and champagne instead of eating dinner, even though you were thinking it.

* You drink and twitter approximately 4 nights a week

* You somehow tell me what I want to hear more often than anyone else when I'm upset.

* I get upset a lot and cry a lot and you are still pretty nice about it each and every time.

* You graduated college early and decided a saddlery obviously was the best job you should take

* a keg came through your closet and you didn't break your lease.

* You love drinking tea as much as I do.

* You made me the most beautiful ring pillow ever for my wedding.

* You are always fun to talk to

* Even though we've both developed phone-phobias, I LOVE talking to you on the phone.

**** I love you and miss you.


Oh hi.

<-- That's me with no makeup and no shower and the unbrushed hair and the ungroomed eyebrows and the frowzy bra and the chipped toenails. I'm fucking exhausted. Emotionally, physically, whatever. I keep coming up with fancy descriptive sentences in my head, then not writing them down fast enough. The words flit back out and into the air, and here I am, still speechless. Aside from spewing my feelings all over twitter every couple of days, I've been trying really hard to hold my shit together and remain positive and smily and BEST FOOT FORWARD or whatever, hence all the brevity and bullet points and photos you might have noticed around here. I've felt like it would be a lie to write something of any length and not Talk About My Feelings, and I've always been a spectacularly bad liar. Just ask my mom.

Anyways, since I can't seem to write the several posts this all deserves, I'm just gonna write one of the please-excuse-the-rambling variety.

My grandpa's dying. Like, Dying-dying. His heart is failing, his doctor thinks he has 6 months to live. My grandfather. One of those larger-than-life people. And yeah he's kind of an asshole; he once ran for city council on the premise that we should feed the homeless to the hungry. He wears a gold belt buckle and a beret and he has a diamond in one of his teeth. And to me he hasn't aged. He's looked like my grandpa for as long as I've known him. With the same white hair and the same glasses and the same EVERYTHING. And I guess he's been getting older and more frail and his eyesight's been getting worse and he's been riding his bike less and less over the past couple years, but it's all been so gradual; it's easy to miss.
And then I saw him yesterday and he was so small and so frail. His voice was quiet and strained. His limbs hanging off of his frame. He could have blown away in the wind. Like cobwebs. Like dry grass. Like eggshells.
And I mean...He's 85. He's five years past his malignant melanoma diagnosis, a point by which 95% of those diagnosed have already died. And. Yeah. Whatever. I dunno. That doesn't change anything, or at least, it doesn't change enough. It doesn't change anything enough for me.

And my mom. I worry about my mom. When my grandpa dies there will be all this stupid will and estate bullshit, plus some left over stuff from when my grandmother died, plus who knows all what else. With my mom to sort out all this garbage amongst her siblings, not all of whom are functional humans.
And my great-uncle Russell (my grandpa's brother) had a heart attack and a stroke a couple months ago, so she's already been doing her best to look after him, and now she's taking turns with her sister sleeping over at my grandpa's, and I need her, and my sister needs her, and my brothers need her, and my dad needs her, and I worry. I'm worried about my mom. When I left last night she was crying. When I talked to her this weekend she was crying. She doesn't cry all that much.

And then there's Gabriel's dad. And there's nothing new, but he's just SUCH an asshole. So I have all this anger on top of all this worry and sadness. I had to sit and listen last Friday as he told a judge that my brother Duncan shouldn't be allowed to pick up Gabriel, because Duncan's unstable, and has made threats to K's person. Duncan's one of the greatest, most stable people I know. And yeah, when I was pregnant and you were FUCKING CHEATING ON ME my brother told me that he wanted to fucking kill you. And yeah. BECAUSE HE'S MY BROTHER. Fuck. You.
On Sundays I'm supposed to pick Gabriel up in Sacramento at 6, and 6 has been really hard on Gabe, because he doesn't sleep well in the car, and he gets home so late, and he has to wake up early to start Monday morning with me and work and whatnot. So I wanted to pick him up earlier, so he could nap in the car and have dinner at home and have a slightly easier transition. But DonkWad can't quite bring himself past the point of Fucking With Me to the slightly more desireable mindset of Let's Do Right By Our Kid. I can pick him up at 5 now. Which doesn't change so much of anything.
He makes me all stabby and vindictive, and it makes it just so hard to be the person that I want to be; the person who takes the high road and doesn't engage in all of this agonizing antagonizing bullshit.

I'm trying to set everything aside so I can get through work and life. I want to enjoy the hell out of my family and friends and sweet baby boy.