We have tried to control nature for too long. Sometimes we need to let her loose. That is not to say that I think fires should be allowed to blanket the peaks of the Rockies, surrounding little pools of civilization like the one where my Mom has her little hotel. No but there needs to be a shock in the ass for those who seek the status quo. Your inaction has succeeded in nothing, only more of a plague. And in the end, the woods these people sought to protect will fall due to their fear of doing the wrong thing.

And this is kind of like the situation I find myself in. I didn’t go to Colorado last weekend to mourn the loss of the forest, or to struggle with memories of what it looked like 7 years ago when I first visited. Nope. I had a purpose, and that purpose was to present a new way to a close family member.  Their problems are not for public consumption, but as of September I will have someone else living in my house. I offered my place for several reasons – I know my city and I love it – I know how terrible fear is and how it can corrupt your soul and keep your feet planted deep in quicksand – I know how it feels to fall on your face and land on your feet – I know how it feels to leave everything you know behind.

Most of all, I know how it feels to hope.

I would never say that moving changes everything. It doesn’t. The problems you have in your current location will follow you like a shadow to your new place. The hope is that the different sun and air can cleanse you of those demons. With a new place, you are reborn. No one knows about your past, your follies, your fears. You can become someone new, better, more shiny, less neurotic.

Or you can be brutally honest, and just tell them how batshit crazy you are. That works for me. I think my crazy is part of my charm… or something (delusions, I love you).  What I hope in helping this amazingly wonderful person out is that they find the life they want and deserve. I am going to do a lot of research, so I can present the right opportunities when they do arrive. I want them to love this city as much as I do, but even if they don’t, I want them to know I love them, unabashedly, and I am actually looking forward to their move. We let life get in the way of things – of connections that should be maintained and love that should be nurtured. This is one I have neglected. I won’t do so again.

Right now they are the last tree surrounded by beautiful copper, and they will perish if no one stands up and drags their ass out of their inaction. So, that is what I did this weekend. I’m action girl, and I will drag them, perhaps kicking and screaming, into a new life.

At least they will be moving then.

Other things I learned in Colorado:

• Living at 9k feet is for big-horned sheep and crazy people. My mother is among those people.
• You can take the redneck out of Florida, but you can’t take the Florida out of the redneck – one of Mom’s employees decided to put gas in the chimenea…which was only 6′ from the house. I think she fired him today. Get it….fired? Hehehehhe… I kill me.
• I am still angry at a lot of people. I need to get over that. I just wish Mom and my stepfather would get divorced so we can move on. This is exhausting me, and I’m not even involved.
• I can totally stick my head out of a window, going 70, for two hours and still have fabulous hair. It’s the purple… it works every time.
• Hand signals + slow drivers = making friends on the highway. Needless to say I made a lot of friends on the road, and I wasn’t even driving.
• I turn into a raisin in Colorado. No. Humidity. I thought I was going to die.
• Thunderstorms are amazing, and I miss them.
• I should not run through the airport in Denver. I can’t run in Portland, much less at that altitude. I thought my head would explode.
• My brother and I would totally get into a bar fight with anyone that looks at my sister funny. She’s the pretty one. I’m the one with the temper and the low center of gravity.
• With the iPad, I will never travel with my laptop ever again. It was perfect for writing, watching movies, and killing time. My 15″ macbook often gets bumped when the sloth in front of me lays back his seat. iPad = tiny = no problem.
• I love and miss my siblings.

This was a little disjointed since I’m not trying to call out the loved one I’m helping. Sorry. Sometimes that’s the way the blog bounces.

I’ve made birthdays a big thing. It’s the one day I think that everyone should drop everything for their friends and show the fuck up. My birthday has become the day of disappointments. It fractures the fragile bonds I hold sacred. It just mucks things up.

This year, it would do none of those things.

David worked his ass off to make sure I was happy. We woke. I made a lovely meal. We played WoW until the evening, when we jumped into the shower to make ourselves presentable. The time spent at Alu really solidified things (by the way, they have the COOLEST front door…and a little fire pit..and popcorn w/ curry, and little tags on your wine so you know what you drank and if you liked it…brilliant little place). My birthday may be important to me, and David and my family, but I can’t expect the everyone to understand. The universe didn’t even see fit to grant me my first rejection (this waiting game is killing me). What it did give me was my first birthday in years without tears.

And that is a beautiful gift.

That is honestly because of David, not the universe. So thanks, honey.

David also made me fall back in love with my camera again. He rules. I heart him.

What is being a mother, exactly? Is it giving birth to another life? Any woman can do that, but many women are not terribly good mothers. Are we celebrating them on a day like this, although they wrecked the lives of their children? Should we strip the title away from them because they are less than deserving? And how must this day feel for those women who have lost children. Or other birthmothers? What of children who have lost their mothers? Do they need to be reminded of what they have lost?

I don’t like the “day” kinds of holidays. Valentines day. Mother’s and Father’s day. Truly, these holidaze are supposed to make everyone stop a moment and remind their loved one how much they care. Again, I argue (I say this about V-Day all the time) that this should be done every day. Why wait to tell your mother you love her? Or your father? Or your best friends? Why the one special day?

I don’t know what it is like to be a mother. I can tell you that being a birthmother has been challenging. There is no rule book, no list of directions, no advice that can be given to navigate the relationships I have with my birthdaughter’s family. Having an open adoption has been a challenge and a blessing, but I wouldn’t change it. But I think my birthdaughter is smart enough and grateful enough to remind her mother how much she loves her every day. They have a beautiful relationship, one I hope all daughters have with their mothers. I am happily on the periphery, watching and observing and reveling in the beauty of their family. And I knew on the day that I gave birth to her that I would never have another child. Some of us are not meant for motherhood. It is not a loss, nor a lack I feel in being who I am. I just know that my life is not big enough for children. That does not mean I am any less of a woman. I just know who I am.

I called my mom today to wish her a happy mother’s day. It’s what good children do. But I don’t love her any more today than I did yesterday. I speak with her several times a week. I don’t wait for the “day” to tell her how happy I am that she is my parent. I tell her all the time. And so should you.

• D got a job, thank the gods. He is working for an educational nonprofit that makes modules for teaching children. The good thing is that he gets to draw all day – weird stuff like beakers and hurricanes and dragons. The bad thing is that they are underpaying him by a mile. That being said, he’s got a job so we are content.
• My job is going well. I grew very close to my boss very fast, and then the bitch moved to Seattle. How DARE she! So D and I have made a few trips up there to visit, and since she and her boyfriend have family 45 minutes north of us, they are down here quite often. It’s interesting when you meet someone that you really just click with. We laugh a lot, about juvenile stuff. She isn’t as political as I am and she is defiantly girly, but in a grrrly kind of way. I adore her boyfriend (who is so tall, when I hug him, it feels slightly inappropriate) and D and I love spending time with them. Selfishly, I wish she had stayed in Portland, but she didn’t. Maybe one day we will move to Seattle…one day.
• Oh yes, the job thing. Well I am keeping most of work out of this blog. It is safer for everyone. I like what I do. I love my window office. I am blessed to have a job and am learning a lot about myself and the world around me. It’s good to be able to pay the bills.
• My sister and her family finally got orders and moved from Tacoma. Now they are in St. Joeseph, Misery. It was harder to say goodbye to my sister than I thought it would be. I know it’s not permanent, and a few more miles will do nothing to lessen our relationship. But there was something nice about saying “Hey, I’m coming over this weekend” and actually being able to do it in reasonable time. They bought a house in St. Joe, so they won’t be moving in the foreseeable future. D and I won’t leave the Pacific NW. We love it here, so our almost 3 years of living close will probably never happen again. I’m grateful for the relationship I have with my sister. I think I have grown as a person being exposed to her kids. I still don’t like kids, and I think bad parents should be shot with a rubber-band gun. That will never change, but I don’t loathe kids as much as I used to. They can stay on the planet for now. But they better not make a mess.
• I am BACK at Seton Hill University. There were rumblings that they were going to try to change the program from an MA (Master in Arts) to the better MFA (Master in Fine Arts), which is a terminal degree. It happened faster than the school anticipated, and so two weeks after I graduated, they sent us letters telling us we could come back for the “F” part of our MFA. What does this entail? I need to start a new work, so all the work I did on my first book is independent of what I have to work on now. I still have a crit group (more on that later), I have 5 classes to take online, in conjunction with 2 residencies. Right now I am in a Horror class and the Teaching Popular Fiction class. Anyone that graduated with the MA can come back and take these classes, and get an MFA. Sounds grand, right? Well the workload is easily tripled for those of us who are coming back. These additional online classes are wonderful, and if I had the spaced out one in a term, it would be perfect. Right now I am taking two and I feel overwhelmed. My muse and I have had long discussions about my work and she and I both agree that this has stopped that forward motion in my writing life. Next term will be worse – I’ll be in 3 classes. God help me.
• I have reconnected with certain friends lost to infantile arguments. Sometimes I need a break, we all need a break. I could be more skillful in relaying my needs to others, but sometimes I’m just dumb. It feels good to have these people back in my life. The time apart was fruitful for both of us, I think. And now we know what we were missing, what we threw away in fits of stupidity. I will be more forthcoming next time, and more forgiving.
• I planned on seeing my birthdaughter for the firs time in years this month, but the trip was postponed due to her family health issues. She’s 16 now, the same I was when I got pregnant with her. I remember it like it was yesterday, feeling so scared, so alone, so freaked out that I was going to California to give birth when my home was in North Carolina. They say that you change after situations like that. I felt like I boarded the plane to California as a young, immature, scared kid. I left as a damaged woman, with leaky breasts, and a irreparably shattered heart.  Sixteen years later, I know that she is in great hands, and she’s grown up to be a beautiful young woman. But I will always remember holding her when she was a day old, and I promised her I would do right by her by becoming a better person. I hope I’ve succeeded.

Whew! That was a lot. Of course, that was not everything, but it is enough for now. It feels good to blog again. I am headed to World Fantasy Con in October with my lovely, charming, and brilliant crit partner. It should be tons of fun. Right now, though, I need some damn coffee.

Don’t ever forget that.

In more pedestrian news, news that hits closer to home, both David and I are out of work now. He was laid off the day I got back home from the residency. We have enough money to get by for a couple months, but right now we are going to have to cut all costs and cross our fingers and our toes in trying to get new jobs. Oregon’s unemployment rate is over 9%. And he will not be getting unemployment benefits. He was a contractor. This really puts us in a bind financially and will weigh on me as we both try to work through our projects for school and not fall into despair. But things happen in threes, my friends – we lost our house and had to move suddenly last month, and now David and I are jobless. I think our trials will lessen once both of us get jobs. But the job market is tough here. Tougher than we anticipated, but I also am not sure whether that is a product of our economy or if Portland is just that tough on new arrivals. We have been here almost 2 years…. it’s time for Portland to cut us a break.

Oh, and U-haul sent me to collections over 60 bucks. I paid it, but it’s ridiculous. I will never use them again.

I have a lot of work to due. My entire novel is due for Seton Hill on April 15th and I have months worth of edits to do. I recieved good news from my mentor regarding my future, but I will have to bust my tush to get everything done in time. So while I am unemployed right now, it gives me time to work on things that need to get done. I just hope that I have enough strength of spirit to look beyond my own woes to write the novel that needs to be written.

Tonight, David and I will join the masses in Portland and celebrate the incoming presidency, and raise a glass to a hopeful future. Let’s hope tomorrow is brighter for all of us.

I will admit to keeping one out. It’s about my birthdaughter and was intended on being a private post. And it was from last summer. Some know the details, but I have no right to write about her in such a public setting if I am sharing such things.

But here are the rest. They are in a random order. The bold parts were the blog titles. Enjoy.

Day 4 – Leslie B. - I still think that painting had cows coming out of a gold sky, not more fucking angels. Pretzels, barefoot, and the same questions every semester. You make me miss school.

Little intrusions into our life – I am still quite annoyed that IE doesn’t have spell check. I sound like a moron, with all these typos (and apparently I spell lightning – lightening…. I dunno. It made sense).

My soul is whole – He’s home. We got a call from a nice guy who lives a few blocks away from us.

Tearing my hair out and sweating – I’ve been silent because I’ve been writing. It’s slow going, honestly. I spent many nights just sitting in front of my computer, trying to figure out what I needed the story to do. Then I lost my mentor’s e-mail address. It’s just been a fucking mess. The good thing is that I’ve got 30 pages due on August 10th, and I am starting a writing schedule. No more dicking around, god damnit (I’m in a cursing mood…. feh).Before you ask, no I’m not working. We will discuss that later. I would like to talk about my birthday. It fucking rocked. Alexis came down from Tacoma, C came over, and Amanda got to Portland that very day, so we all bounced downtown for some dinner. It was a good meal.

I’m awake before noon - I don’t know if WordPress (and my site for that matter) has changed the time when I blog, although its been so infrequent lately. But, ladies and gentle-dorks, I would like to talk about sleep. It’s three, sometimes four in the morning before I hit the hay. It’s weird to think that many of my Florida friends are already at work, or getting ready by the time I get to sleep. The sunset/sunrise times have also thrown me off. When we moved here, it wasn’t getting dark until after 9:45, and then the sun would rise super early

Privacy - There are some things that I think I need to hash out, mostly with myself. That being said, I’ve noticed an increase in traffic from “unknowns” and I know who, at least some of them, are. So, in order to protect those I love, I am going to lock a few things down for a while. There’s a lot of trauma in my family right now, strife between the members and things that shouldn’t be said out loud. I’m not closing my mouth at all, but I won’t allow my opinions to become ammunition against those I love. If there’s a locked post, it will have its usual password (if you don’t l know it — e-mail me).

The trip is almost over. Lex and I are in a hotel room in Idaho.

Running out - It’s official. I am out of meds. What to do? I’ve spoken with D about it and we agreed that I could go to walgreens and get raped for my lamictal, but the healthier (heheh… interesting how that works out eh?) option is to try to control my manic depression on my own. How? Diet, exercise, honest observation of triggers, making myself sleep and …and just trying to pay attention. I won’t go batshit immediately because I do have a decent buildup in my system, but the chemical protection will erode with time, and in about a month, I will be without any kind of chemical help. This wasn’t a choice I wanted to make. My insurance ran out with my last job, and I fluffed the system enough to give me a little leeway until we got to Portland. But, I still don’t have a job. So, no help with the meds. It would cost more than our car payment for my medications…. how fucking insane is that ?

I’ve not talked about grad school much here. I’m setting up a seperate (see: proper) blog for my book reviews and such. But I really feel lost sometimes.

Cutout - First day – I had first day of work jitters last night. Would they like me? Can I do the job? Do they have good coffee (my prior place of employment had shite coffee)? D called at 8:10, but by that time my two alarms had already interrupted my sad attempts to fall back to sleep. I stayed up too late, worrying. And so when the morning came, I wanted to go back to sleep, like I have been doing for months. But that was a no-go.

When I got to the office, coffee and water in hand, I was greeted by my boss, who we will call P, and the GM named A. I met everyone else, smiled, waved, and then almost fell out of my seat when P began dictating the list of things I had to accomplish. Then he left, and I realized, with shame, that I didn’t know how to do anythign on the list, so I started small and arranged my desk. It’s not that the job will be hard, because it won’t, but getting the hang of a new system of protocols, rules and regulations will take time.

Links - * The Ironman trailer — D’s excited. I’m less than thrilled. The flying scene does look really nice, but I don’t know about the rest of it.
* We watched the trailer for the Bionic Woman. I had high hopes (I still love Battlestar), but it looked like crap. The story was poorly executed and the characters felt super flat. I think that they should take their time developing the characters, because then it makes for a deeper connection. Perhaps these issues had something to do with the problems with the show. Then again — it could just be crap.

When it rains…. - Jeezus. So, it’s been a busy little trek through the life of me. On top of family issues, tension in the home, and conflicts/issues with extended family connection — welll I feel like I’m drowning.

I need valium - Or a stiff cocktail.

It’s snowing!! - I am cooking lunch, wearing my purple fuzzy socks and a smile. Oh, and clothes too. Perverts.

for me – I’m fucking angry, and I don’t think that I need to submit the rest of you to this, but there’s a lot that’s pissing me off right now, so this will be protected.

my family is pissing me off… specifically my stepfather. For the first timein my life I realized that I’ve never really had a father.

Ketchup… – Or catch-up. which ever you prefer.

The halloween party was a hit. I dressed up as a white trash preggers person, with curlers in my hair and all.

Do we still need animal testing? – And does it really work?

I don’t know, and am scared to ask, what kind of trails were used for my meds. There have been several cases recently where drugs

Is this fair? – I know that you still speak with the one that slighted me. And I thought that I was a grown-up about it, but I’m not. How can you even think to associate with someone who hurt a person you care about? Anne had it right — you should choose. I’ve tried to be the bigger person here, but I’m immature when it comes to this kind of thing. You are going to keep her in your life, keep contacting her although she took you for granted and used you. And it pisses me off to no end. Where is the loyalty? Why is this such a problem for me? And I know you will keep talking to her, no matter how fucked up that situation was. And I know that you will keep her around, and I know that it will effect our relationship because I don’t believe in supporting someone or being friends with someone who is such a cunt.

I told you how I felt about it. and perhaps I should be clear about things. Perhaps I should stop bullshitting you, but I’ve tried to be the bigger person and its not working.

Where you sleep – My sister wanted to sleep between D and I. I told her that the dogs already had that position — chastity beagles. She said she would “woof” if we wanted. My sister is twisted and she always makes me giggle. There was lots of family conversation last night, but the most important thing was the solidification of the plans for May. I am graduating in a few months. I am scared. But my family is going to stay at mi casa for the 5 days they are going to be in town. Cat’s trip is shorter than she first thought, but we are going to drag her and Jewlie to dinner at Babbos. (there will be no argument Cat!). I was very proud of myself yesterday. I bought a queen sized mattress for someone to stay on. I am planning ahead. Go me!

I accidentally put too much sugar in my coffee. Gah!

I have my first midterm today. These years, this point, so close to completion, I am fucking terrified.

Dark to Light:

On an introspective note – We are coming up on the 3 month mark until the move. The plans for homes and jobs and such are coming together. But I realized yesterday, I won’t see summer with Seemore. The other students at Rollins are talking about summer classes and bitching about the lack of Humanities cores available in the fall.

I thought about it while I drove – Do Conservatives write poetry? Does the Christian Right (wrong) find inspiration from writing verse or essays that are reflective or creative versus bombastic condemnation with poorly chosen metaphors?

Changes to come – I am learning a lot more about the abilities and possibilities with WordPress,

Walking on Sunshine – I called my mother, my daughter’s family, my sister, my brother, and a few friends and told them all about my good news. My birthdaughter seemed only slightly impressed. I was happy to hear that she’s no longer failing Science, and that she got an A in PE. Did I ever tell you how I used to get bad grades in PE because I wouldn’t dress out ? Seems the apple and the tree have something in common. The Birthdaughter and her mother are going to Australia on Saturday. I’m jealous. She offered to take me along.

Boogers and fleas - Good god. My head is killing me. K i l l i n g …. meeeeeee. I would like to crawl into a hole and die right now. It’s making my eyes tired. I’m nauseous. Does anyone have a drill so I can relieve the pressure? An axe? An exacto knife? please?

I’ve had this headache for two days now. It started before I left work yesterday, and although I love my Composite Novel class, I had to squint through the pain. I thought sushi would cure my ailment. It didn’t. I pouted for the rest of the night. It doesn’t help that the beasties has fleas.

So, I am going to whine now. Ready? You sure?

What you won’t hear - Mom called last night, just to tell me she was calling not to bitch. I talked to her the other night, and she did bitch. I don’t mind those conversations. I enjoy them, actually. Although she’s my parental unit, she’s also one of my closest friends, so it feels good when she calls to bitch. But you won’t hear me relay the details of those conversations. I wouldn’t know what to tell you. Our family, like so many others, has bumps and bruises and scars and imperfections and all those other nasties that no one likes to talk about. Through the addictions, denials, abuse and fear – we came to love each other, building around the scars, and coming up with something amazingly flawed but clean. Our conversations often analyze the bits of our family that don’t work.

She’s always questioning my meds. When I told her that I was taking myself off the Seroquel, she balked. But she doesn’t have to watch me tear through the fog every morning. She knows I’m not a morning person, but that shit adds a level of fuzziness that’s almost too hard to overcome. I think she fears for my sanity, but often forgets that I have D to remind me to eat and sleep and breathe and relax. Not that I am completly incapable, but it’s good to have that voice and embrace to stabalize things. But, you won’t hear us talk about her depression or her drinking.

Untitled - Search back, deep in those memories blurred by time. Think of ice cream and running barefoot in the street. What did the sun feel like when you were a child? When you carried little and understood even less.

*snicker* - So, they are trying to lock down the internets at work. First, they finagled with my Windows Media Player downloads, then they started blocking radio sites altogether. I find this amusing for two reasons. One: if you have any kind of creativity and you know how to use Google, then you can usually bypass this kind of crap.

Recap – I spent Friday on the couch. Why? Jager. Jager is evil and we are still not sure how many actual shots I had. But I had a lot of Blackthorn, and I laughed and cried a lot. The afternoon started off with a bang. I went to ABC and bought some wine, and then met the class at the Woolson House for the last class. We were supposed to have a read-around, and we did, but I pulled blog posts and cried because one was about my birthdaughter. I heard lots of wonderful stories, and one of my compadres, Kyle, read poetry. His words amazed me. You can’t buy talent like his. So, class started to end, and I felt the tears and emotion well up. I was okay until I hugged Dr. Dunn. She made me cry.

Full time veggie – It’s not hard being a vegetarian in Portland. Most restaurants don’t just accommodate, they take pride in their vegetarian options. If they don’t have something specifically for vegetarians, most are willing to rework a dish or two to satisfy us. I am a full time vegetarian. I had been for many years, a part time vegetarian. I would like to say it was a moral choice, and admittedly, it was to some degree.  But most of what kept me from eating meat was the amount of cash it took to make such dinners. And cleaning flesh, be it deboning chicken thighs, or cutting the gristle off a steak, grossed me the fuck out. The only thing I loved to cook and eat meat wise was bacon. Yes, I know it’s the french fries of the meat world – little (or no) nutritional value, full of fat and cholesterol.

But it tasted so damn good.

Coffee - Some rituals beg for a re-try. Julie, Cat and I used to have weekly coffee at the Barnies (now a Starbucks) in the plaza on Bumby and Colonial. We’d talk about relationships, school, etc. You know, the nice bs that makes friendships run. But Cat moved and that tradition died. Julie and I always intended to meet for coffee again, but we ended meeting at school, as that was the easiest place since we were both there so much. Last night Julie and I met back at the old Barnies and talked about the next 6 weeks. She’s due when we leave.

D would like this chocolate figure more than any other. I wonder if I can do this with dark chocolate? Hmmm..

the boxes build - My hand has hurt all week, and I don’t know why. I was hesitant to go back to the doc, because I know they would just say it is carpal tunnel, but there’s something really wrong this time. My grip is weak. My fingers are shooting with pain, not constantly, but its there. It is hard to type. I hate this.

With the futon gone, the front room is quickly becoming the center of the move. Boxes of books tower over boxes yet to be filled and it si all starting to scare me now. Things seem kind of uncertain. Did I mention that we have too many books? I haven’t been able to touch the other stuff, the knick knacks and whatnots, but there will not be enough boxes to contain it all. Dumpster diving is in my future…unless…. you know where I can find boxes. Do you?

We found more stuff to get rid of. I’ll post a list here.

Overheard - You gotta watch out for Jamaicans. They’ll shoot you. They ain’t got no remorse.

—

What was your GPA?

3.5 something

That’s crap!

Good morning headache - I feel all whiney. Gah!

D and I watched Pan’s Labyrinth last night. There’s a silly litte story about getting the movie (and I want the soundtrack!!). D, because he is the greatest husband ever, bought the movie for me last week when it came out. He thought he bought the two disk edition. The packaging was misleading and we found that he bought the normal versions.

Sore sore sore – I’m walking funny from Tuesday’s class, and tonight I am going to hop around like a monkey and try to stretch these aching legs of mine out.

Day 44 – 54 -  Regarding Families – I’m way behind with this, because of Grannie’s death and my inability to put fingertip to keyboard. This is the Meow playing catch up again. Deal with it

Day 44 -Dude from Jet Blue

I wrote down your name so I could tell Jet Blue how much you rocked. Your unusual name has been lost with a discarded boarding pass. Lex and I meant well.

Day 45 -Meredith

What a woman you are about to become. I see the bitchy tomboy in you, and understand why the fights with your brothers. Someday, everyone will grow up, and you’ll be friends.

Day 46 – Tommy

You remind me of my brother, gargantuan smartass. I see you trying to struggle outside the shadow of your brother. The Air Force will give you wings. Use them well.

Day 47 – Michael

Oldest, like me, so I’m allowed to say this. It’s time for you to grow up and show our family what you are capable of. You still need to earn “Bartz.”

Day 48 – Martha

I didn’t expect what I got. I admit I was wrong about you. While we are vastly different, there’s commonality. I’ve grown up and you’ve grown more tolerant. Isn’t’ it interesting?

Day 49 – Charlie

Aloof, but so proud of your wife. I cried when I watched you and Mom dance. Distant, but eager to share love and memories. And you have great taste in wine.

Day 50 – Riley

The little DJ, the sensitive, understanding, loving one. You have the best of our family in your heart. It’s going to be hard growing up, but remember your family loves you.

Day 51 – Zach

The big brother, smartass like the rest of us, tall, wicked grins, full of mischief and energy. You were a great host, and too entertained by the Garcia kids’ bad language.

Day 52 – Claire

Day 53 – Gramps

Day 54 – Marybeth

the outfit – The interview went really well. I’m not tooting my own horn, but interviews are my forete. It’s the resume shit that takes me forever to work out. But the company is teensy, and piggybacked on a larger company based in Canada. I would be working with a subcontractor

Bringing you up to date – Lots of things to talk about, but I’m focusing on the good stuff. I spent so much time bitchign about things that I (and others) can forget what grace is given to us.

Welcome to the beaglehouse – We got the house. We move on Friday. This is the bigger of the two houses, the one I was talking about on Friday. It’s very exciting, the whole moving thing. What isn’t so exicting is that the landlady decided she was going to try to pull her ass out of the fire and sell the house before the bank siezes it. Nice thing to do, but she sent over a realtor on Saturday with a prospective buyer. I thought she was comng.

Worried – I moved from Florida for a lot of reasons that don’t really need to be reiterated. The weather in Portland is gentle, nurturing, and rarely violent. And sometimes I forget how spectacular thunder is. But I won’t ever forget Hurricane Charley, ever.

Now Hurricane Gustav is roaring in the Gulf, heading for Cuba, and some of his rain bands are effecting Central Florida – where I still have friends and family. There won’t be a direct hit on our old stomping grounds, but the bastards is headed for a direct confrontation with Louisana, and especially New Orleans.

Close the door - And in the final throes of insincerity and lack of compassion, I listen to people in my office talk about how Spanish is an offensive language, and that the inclusion of foreign languages in American society is a result of lazy immigrants. Of course, they didn’t say such with any word more than two syllables and in a dictionary for lazy American speakers with little education and narrow minds.

Today, I am glad that I am leaving. Friday can’t come fast enough. In a panic, although I gave my notice a full month ago, the office is swirling around because there’s a shit load of work on my desk and not enough time to do it in. I tried to care, I really did. But the nazi, who gave me a card some months ago telling me how proud she was of me, pushed herself into my peripheral vision and refused to say anything to me until I pulled the headphone out of my ear. I’m not classically organized. I know where most of my stacks are and what they mean. I don’t have labeled folders and tabbed files. Piles work for me. She’s always been horrified by my lack of “organization.” Well have fun, lady. You can hire whomever tickles your pickle. But I would love to be a fly on the wall when I go. They will talk the most heinous shit. I’m not going to be here to intimidate, bully and protect. It’s easy to kill the memory of me. It’s harder to do it to the person. But I’m not concerned. I did my best to be a good person. It didn’t work all the time, but I tried.

What I won’t miss

• The continual comments about the inferior nature of the immigrant populous and how they are polluting our society — you know what, motherfucker? Go work on a roof in Baldwin Park, send most of your money back to your family, and work every day from sunup until sunset, and then bitch. Add insecurity of being in a foreign culture, of being looked down upon, and then tell me your attitude is justified.
• Defending my vegetarianism and belief in animal rights —- I don’t care if you hunt animals.

One more nail in the coffin – Talked to the overlord/property manager last night. I swear to god, baby jeezus and all those fun-loving saints that this woman only likes to talk to me and hates D. Which is strange. I’m the bitchy one in the family. Anway, our conversation went well. She needed an end date for our lease, and in a surprising move of generosity, never made us sign an addendum for the extension. I guess living there for three years, paying our rent on time, not freaking out when the roof got shorn to shit in Hurricane Charley, fixing things without bothering them and not pissing off the neighbors has payed off. I also asked her for a recommendation, because as much as it chaps my ass, we are going to have to rent when we get to Portland. Logistally, it makes the most sense. But she has an end date now, and I’ve promised smiles and cooperation. It’s not smart to leave things on bad terms, even when she did show up that one time, unannounced. That visit cost us 350 bucks! It’s hard to hide a second beagle. My parental units are overlords property owners, so I should know better. Oh well. I just hope they don’t try to bleed the rock dry when we move. We can’t afford it.

Snips of an update – This is going to be in bullet form because I’m  still working my assy off and trying to get everything done while working full time. What a pain in the ass! (but a good one)

• Wool Coats – I thought we were headed for the heart of autumn, D and I hunted for winter coats. We bought some half assed coats last fall and froze through most of the cooler weather. This time I found a great wool coat that complements my womanly figure. I love it. It’s heavy, black, military inspired, but more fashionable. I think all that time off watching “What Not to Wear” really rubbed off on me.
• I Heart my iPhone – D and I did what irresponsible people do and finally switched phone companies with that 2k check I received from Rollins. I have wanted an iPhone since they came out, and by George, we got em. And it is as spiffy and groovy as I thought it would be. The funny part, in a not so funny kind of way, is that the functionality that I ached for – being able to check e-mail, facebook, websites, without detection, is an unnecessary thing now. My current employers don’t give a shit where I go to, as long as I get the job done. But it’s good to have the capabilities with GPS. I’ve already used it once …..while on my bike…. and no, you are not allowed to laugh.
• The Job – so I think I already stated that I took the job with the laid-back solar company. If you got creative, you could figure out which one it is, suffice to say, I love it. It’s so fucking busy that I get there  and I get to 11 or 12 and realize I haven’t finished my coffee, my apple or all the phone calls I need to make. Laid back is not EVEN close to the truth there, but for all their laid back ways, they are very serious about the business. There is also a shop dog – Brutus, who is a springer spaniel. He’s my work boyfriend. Overall it’s really unorganized (which is why I got hired), laid back, bike friendly, and the easiest commute of my life. And the people, I love the people so far. I think a few of them could become good friends.
• Biking – I have biked to work, and got lost trying to come home. Yes, only me. Suck it. I can’t bike this week due to the monthly rebellion of my uterus, but I will get back in the saddle shortly.
• I’m on Googlemaps – if you google my address, go down my side street, you will see me sitting on the porch, smoking. It’s from last summer. Just to make sure, I had Streetview slide down the street a little further, and sure as shit, there was our car. I don’t know why, but it amused me.
• The Green Microgym - I joined a gym, but one with a special twist. Go to the link, and you will see what I mean. It’s about 20 blocks from the house, an easy bike ride, and I plan on taking advantage of their REALLY killer hours. The Owner, Adam, was super nice and very excited about the battery systems on the bikes. When I told him I worked for a solar company, we kind of geeked out about watts and whatnot. I’m a total dork, but I thought it was right to support a local business trying to make a difference. Besides, I got in on the introductory deal and my membership is less than 30 bucks a month for the life of the membership. How can I go wrong?

I didn’t do it.. – I didn’t watch the debate. I should have. Then I could participate in all the great conversations everyone is having today. D and I went to the Blue Moose on Fremont and had our normal Wednesday dinner. We were the only ones in the place. I think most people watched the debate. But I didn’t have to! I have Twitter! I watched everyone’s reaction while I munched on my dinner and drank my wine. Honestly, I meant to record it, but what’s done is done.

My BIL is leaving for an overseas tour a lot sooner than expected. He’s not a front-lines kind of guy, but he will be in danger. The whole fucking region is a war zone and scares me. She’s being the stoic air force wife, knowing she will have to rally without him. We joke, because D and I have a hard time being apart. when I go away for school, it’s difficult. We are joined at the forehead. But Lex and G are fine, moving through the relationship wiht all the bumps and bruises that come with deployment.

Keeping it positive - My job – I am a part of something bigger. The standards by which most people measure success would not apply with this job. The pay hasn’t pissed me off yet, but I haven’t gotten my first paycheck. I know, soon, I will get moved into more responsibility. Right now, I’m treading water, but it feels good. My coworkers are all very different from places I’ve worked before – they are cynical but hopeful, funny but dark, and always prone to blaming something on “your mother.” There are very few people in the office most of the day, but those people make me laugh. And I found out the woman they hired before me bailed after day 2. I kind of understand. The place isn’t organized. And I lost sleep the first few days. The rhythm of chaos feels strange to me. There are no protocols on how to do things, no lists, no set of parameters. While on one end, it’s freeing, I realize I like structure, which is weird to admit. I started today less filled with panic, and took a risk by taking charge. It’s working for me, and the office. At least, no one’s bitching to my face yet.

Biking to work – Today, I biked to work. And it took me ten minutes to get there. It took me almost a half hour to get home though. I was carrying a bag, riding with wind, and going up a big frackin’ hill. D told me I will get faster, and I know I will. Start small. It’s the best place to start.

Cold Toes… – It’s lovely today.

**** Okay so this is going to take a couple days to finish. But that’s the start of the housecleaning. More to follow later. I hope you had a lovely new year

My ankle hurts. Why?

Because the bowling alley tried to kill me. I’m glad there is no photographic evidence of my spectacular fall, sliding on my bent ankle down toward the pins. Have you ever noticed how slippery those floors are, especially when you CROSS THE FUCKING LINE? Yeah, totally learned that on Saturday. The laughter erupted like thunder behind me. I’m sure my face was red. D, who hates bowling, finished the game for me. Why were we bowling? Ms. Amandapants’ bday. She’s getting old now (hehehehehe). I bought her sock monkey slippers because she likes to steal my slippers when we have movie night. And I also bought her an antique camera. It doesn’t work, but she may get it fixed.

When Amanda and I first became friends, I went over to her house to study grammar for Dr. Law’s evil Grammar class. We spent hours pouring over adverbial clauses, and prepositions. I still have all of my notes from that class (and that awful book). But when you entered Amanda’s house, on the wall with the wedding pictures were beauiful older cameras, in perfect shape. So when D and I were shopping for her present, he found the camera sitting high on a shelf (meaning, out of my lower line of sight). I wish it worked, but sometimes you get what you get.

In other news, D and I went to Lola’s on Friday night with Adam from the Green Microgym (and his wife and a few of the trainers). We had dinner at McMenamins (Mmmm veggie burger) and then went upstairs to get our groove on. Two mistakes I made – wearing cute shoes that hurt my feet and underestimating the power of Ruby. Ruby is one of their beers, and I thought buying a glass or three would be okay. But they were six bucks and huge! And I think I had three. It’s the only thing that kept my brain from bubbling out of my ears. I hear beer congeals the brain…. yeah. So, my version of 80′s music and Lola’s are VERY freaking different. I expect to hear some Bauhaus, New Order, Love and Rockets, with a little dash of goth. But that’s not Lolas, where I heard hair bands, cheesy (and not in the entertaining way) new wave, and enough Madonna to make my eyes bleed. That’s not to say we didn’t have fun. We did, it just wasn’t what I expected. But I ended up with blisters on the balls of my feet. They are small, but painful.

Oh, and the parking garage for the Crystal Ballroom is hellish. I will go and take pictures of it because it’s six shades of creepy.

David and I also went to Ignite Portland 4. It rocked. My pictures sucked. And David is finally part of the twitterverse. My honey’s all grow’d up.

Now back to my shittastic monday.

I worked with Sarah at Borders in Miami, eons ago. She looked like a ballerina, long, lithe, caramel tinted like creme brule, with bright eyes and shoulder-length sandy hair. Her dress was effortless. She looked wonderful in everything she wore, from girly sundresses to white shorts and keds. She bought a car, a little egg-shaped car she named Eggbert. We weren’t friends for long, honestly. I remember feeling horribly abandoned, like she was obligated to stay with me. She was my “normal” friend – no drugs, no goth scene, just a fellow bookseller with a penchant for quick laughter and good coffee.

She matched her apartment. Trinkets, carefully selected and warm in the sunlight, poked from every corner. She was shabby chic before it was hip. The apartment felt larger than it was, an attic space on top of a massive house with rich furniture and the kind of windows that reminded me of department store displays – look, but you’ll never be able to afford such extravagance. Beautiful as she was, when I cared to look deeper, I found doors and windows that few took the time to explore. Sarah, like her apartment, felt layered. She possessed little secrets, of which I only heard whispers -the truth about her insecurity when she ran off to the Caribbean to work with her boyfriend James a yacht, her hidden dreams, only whispered in twilight afternoons thick with humidity and clove smoke.

She gave great hugs.

I will admit. I think I was a little in love with her, and wanted to become her. In striving to be tough and unbreakable, I forgot about the fragile beauty of living in the moment as she did. She smiled more than anyone I had ever met, found beauty in the color of a mural and the way wicker fades and crumbles with time. We laughed under great banyan trees, like children in a secret garden. But Miami was our garden, and our secrets, well I still won’t share those.

A hushed breath, and Sarah blew away, like wishes floating off a dandelion.

I moved to Ft. Lauderdale, still employed with Borders in 98. She visited me once (I didn’t have a car back then). Eyeball deep in a bad relationship, I didn’t have the time to set aside for her, for one more afternoon, one more conversation that explored the things we only shared with each other. I haven’t thought about her in years, until this morning

My house doesn’t look like an antique store, as Sarah’s did. But I can tell you a story about every rock, candle and toy in our home. I could tell you about the hanging dragon my mother bought me, or the ugly white blanket I insist on keeping because it was the first thing I bought for myself on my own. For all I loved about my former life, I think Sarah and I make more sense as friends now. I think Sarah may have seen who I could and would become – someone who lives in the moment, who cherishes every conversation, and someone who still wishes on dandelions, if the sunlight is just right.

“Honey, we are going to do body for life again.”

D looked straight ahead at the computer screen, intent on ignoring me.

Like the dogs, I stared at him. Day eyes wide, smiling.No response. I think I got in his face then, still sweaty from my two hour workout. “The Gym people invited me to do it with them, and I said yes.” I smile MORE.

He turns from the computer screen. “But remember last time?” I see the sad smile, and remember.

I am a total, raving, angry bitch when I’m hungry. I really am. This has nothing to do with my manic depression. I get mad, temper tantrum angry, when I need food. And the best part of this? D usually has to tell me that I’m getting bitchy, and then will ask if I’m hungry. It’s pathetic really.

Rewind to about 2002. D and I lived in the duplex in Delaney Park. We loved that place. It was the first time I tried to go to the gym. Actually, I was pretty dedicated to my gym experience. Like many things in my life, the only successful results I attained were through a structured program where a wonderful, but tough trainer pushed me beyond my limits. I found great pride in my ability to leg press over 300 lbs, and although I’m short, I stopped fearing the “big boy” weight room. She enabled me to venture forth three mornings a week, before dawn, to meet my workout partner for an early morning lesson in sweat. The ritualistic structure worked for me.

I swear, I’m getting to the eating thing.

Now, I can’t remember whether we tried this while I was trying to work my ass off at the Y, but D and I tried to Body for Life diet for about 10 days. After too many days of bland chicken, broccoli (no butter, please) and boiled eggs, we broke. We sat on the couch,staring at our plate of boring food. I wanted to cry. There’s no way to get excited about cooking baked chicken, night after night. The egg-beater omelettes – foul. I don’t think we touched them for a few years after that. We decided such a diet wasn’t for us and went to our favorite pizza joint downtown (I forgot the name of the road!! Jesus, I have a bad memory). We even had beer.

This time I feel invigorated about the challenge of changing our eating habits. D brought up a very good point – we are vegetarian and it’s a protein heavy diet. They consider beans a carb, so WTF am I going to eat? Quorn chicken patties every night?

And the kicker, which is kind of important to D and I. We relish our dinners out. We eat out a lot more than we should, probably, but we always have a great time. If it’s our $20 dinner at Moosey, or the $120 we spend that that Peruvian place we (I) like downtown. We talk over dinner. We discuss our futures, talk about the plot of my novel(s), his art projects, our families, my interesting family issues, his lack of family issues. Those dinners out are our couple time.

I know, I know. You are saying “Just do it at home! It’s cheaper than eating out anyway. Go on the diet.”

You would be right. It is much cheaper and smarter financially for us to eat small meals at home, and for me to go on this diet. I will have one day a week where I can eat/drink anything. And holylittlebabyjesus, will I ever exploit that. But part of me wonders if being hungry all the time, and bitchy  is really worth it. I work better with structure, and being challenged (like I was by the Gym owner and his wife), so this diet makes sense. But D’s not that interested in eating with such restrictions. I can easily make stuff for him, separate. But we would lose our Wednesday night dinners at Moosey, and our usual Friday night going out dinner with friend, family and lotsa wine. Is any diet worth losing that time?

Can I really lose this weight on my own? Should I at least try?

Should I stop whining?

PS. If you can – VOTE EARLY!!!

I stopped writing or speaking to my father when I was eighteen or nineteen. I don’t know exactly when I made the decision, or even if it was a conscious one because I was buried beneath a pretty time consuming drug addiction. It wasn’t heroine or meth, but it took up a lot of space. I joke that I can’t remember most of the 90′s. It’s funny in passing conversation, but in reality it’s kind of sad. And it was during those times, when I was so emotionally raw from my experience in becoming a birthmother and moving to another state alone, that I made the choice to cut my father out of my life.

I just realized, this entry, more than most, is going to be very personal. I guess that’s my warning.

Things come full circle, if you wait long enough. My relationship with my stepfather really ended years ago, with the accusation that my stepbrother molested me. You bring that kind of ugly to a family gathering, and nothing good will come of it. That truth, more than anything I believe, fractured what we had. We never recovered. I don’t think he likes me much. I was a total bitch to him growing up. And by the time I was ready to start having a civil conversation with him, the damage had been done. He couldn’t forgive me for being so cruel and rotten, and I would never live up to his expectations. These days, it’s civil and shallow, and we move on. My Mom and stepfather are in the process of a divorce. I know, pretty certainly, that we will have no contact at the end. He may hear about me through my sister, who still has a pretty good relationship with him, or through my brother, because my stepfather is the only Dad he’s ever known. My stepfather was there for many of the important things – my graduation day from high school, the day I found out I was pregnant with my birthdaughter, my wedding, the drive down to Miami for my move. I will be grateful for his guidance and wisdom. And when I found out about the divorce, I was very happy for my Mom, who has been my ally and close friend. But I was also sad because another possibility of a father was departing.

It’s hard being a Daddy’s girl with no Daddy.

Then came last week. My father, through my sister (this sounds like a daytime soap) professed an interest int contacting me again. She’s my little gatekeeper. She wouldn’t let him talk to me directly for fear that he would hurt me again. But things are very different now. I have my own family. I’m a birthmother, a wife, a beagle/kitty mommy, a writer, and a rockin’ coordinator for a solar company. But what I am not, at least not at this minute, is a daughter to a father. And this is where it all comes full circle.

My father wrote me a short, but nice e-mail. He professed his sincere apologies for what happened in the past but made a good point to allow the past to remain where it was and not to bring it into our future. Honestly, the e-mail didn’t really move me, which is strange. I think I’ve waited a long time for this and I expected something more – angels singing, rainbows, who knows. And I’ve not responded yet. Why? I don’t know what to say. I am actually speechless. And a touch confused. This will expose more issues than I usually like to reveal, but what if he finds out that I am a liberal vegetarian who rejects Christianity and war? And how can I hide who I am? My stepfather mocked my beliefs. My Mom told me he was trying to challenge what I believed, but he was very dismissive of my anti-war stance. Of course, he’s military, …but my father is as well. And I think they both function on the same conservative platform. But, then again, all I know of him I have learned through my sister and his actions towards her. They have maintained a strained relationship over the years. She accepts me. Will he?

I don’t know if I am afraid to write back because of the inevitable rejection, or because I’ve gone beyond the point of needing a father. I am very close with my Mom. She and I can discuss pretty much anything (except my sexuality, which still bothers her). I want the same kind of relationship with my father. That may be asking too much. He hasn’t been a part of my life since I was very young, whereas my mother fought through my shame and distance to make her presence felt, even when I lived in some very sketchy places in Miami. (BTW, I’m thinking out loud as I write this so sorry if this is a little disjointed). I think the best thing I can do is write back and expect very little. I have a very full life. My friends are amazing. My family rocks. My husband is the coolest man on the planet. Everything else is cake……. right?

I

hate

sweating.

But today it’s 70 something. I kept all the windows open because I want to justify wearing this sweater.  Yes, I am happily wearing a sweater…….. this is why we moved here.

I feel like I’m in some kind of anti-communication vortex jobwise. I cannot count the number of resumes I’ve sent out. I’m starting to despair. When D shoulders the financial responsibility soley, my guilt kicks in. This is a partnership. This is two of us. This is a situation where we need more money. This is Valentine needing surgery and Meow needing a trainer (I’m fatter than ever and not happy about it). This is about life not cooperating. It’s effecting everything – my writing, my heath, my sketchy mental health, my relationships. It’s hard to suck it up every day and say it’s going to be okay. It will, as long as D remains employed, but even that was shaken up last week, and due to a shitty situation, he’s still in jeopardy. It’s not worth discussing out in the open, especially since we found out his employer trolls sites looking for their name, but it is adding stress. Taking each day as it comes has gotten harder. I just need a little break. Can’t someone give me a chance?

But at least the weather is cooperating. Thunder woke me this morning and our power went out for a little bit. I rolled over, cuddled a beagle, and fell back into fitful dreams.

Oh, and so glad I’m not dealing with hurricane stuff. It could always be worse.

Here’s to a better week full of brighter things…

But I’m house-bound again due to my bloody cycle. And yes, I did mean bloody.

I wish I could get a hysterectomy to go -  like french fries, only messier.

…. and that all made sense when I first wrote it.

More coffee…..

One just thunked the window. God, I hate that sound.

I had this whole paragraph about how much I loved cereal, but it made no sense. The Cliff’s Notes version – I love granola that’s flavored like granola, not like coconut or mango. Raisins are okay, but only sometimes.

Yesterday had to be one of the hardest days I’ve had in a long time. The good thing about rapid cycling is that I know the mood will pass. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. For the first time since last November, I pulled out the box knife. It sat on my desk. I cried. And then I put it away. I did not cut. I can’t say that will happen every time I have the urge, but it worked this time. The scar on my left arm reminds me how ugly this illness can be. Cutting and manic-depression are not mututally exclusive, but I’ve known several people who suffered from both at the same time. D wants to look into insurnance so that I can get back on meds. I honestly think I agree with him now. At first I didn’t want to do it, but he made a good point last night. I love living in Portland. I love what it offers and I love what I can do here. But I’ve been looking through a cloud of crazy since last summer. I’m contstantly distracted by trying to keep things in check, to not lose it. Our relationship has suffered. The older I get, it seems the worse it gets. It’s just hard sometimes. Today I am much better. I woke up, almost cheerful. I’ve been job hunting. I’m writing this post. I called the vet to schedule Val’s surgery (she’s supposed to call me back). The simplest acts, showering, walking, eating – become impossibly difficult when I’m in my lows. And with the mania, well I’m a brilliant writer who can’t focus on a clear thought.

/sigh

The french braid thing comes from yesterday as well. I had an interview I blew off. I got up at 6:30, showered, braided my hair, put on makeup, dressed. And then I fell apart. I e-mailed the lady and told her I had a family emergency. It was just with a temp agency, not a real job offer. But I just couldn’t do it. And then I shut off my phone and turned off my computer. D got very worried…he can see these swings coming pretty early. And he said to me the other day that he felt like he couldn’t help me anymore, that he didn’t have the cure for the moodswings. But he does. His just being there makes me feel like I need to work harder to make it better. It’s not just me that’s in this mess. Being married to someone with this illness has to be hard for him.

But, that’s enough of that.

Here are little bits of stuff…

• D sold his carbon-framed bike. We need the money for Val’s surgery, but he also didn’t ride the bike much anymore. He loves his steel framed bike. We got a good deal, enough money for the surgery and any unexpected things that may come up with that.
• I completed my deadline for school —- late. With everything going on I’ve had a hard time really getting my writing done. I can’t deal with a lot of what is going on in my own life, so challenging my characters to deal with their little heap of crap has gotten impossible. I realized I’ve been cheating a little as well. Every time I have to explore character feelings, I kill them. Now, I’m having a lot of fun killing my characters, but death is starting to lose its meaning in my plot. That’s why 1st drafts rock…. I can fix this in a later draft.
• Books — I have TONS of books to read. Good stuff.
• My sister is in CO with her friends and family. I’m insanely jealous. Last summer I took a trip with her to visit, and I can’t do it right now. We don’t have the money and it would be irresponsible, but I almost feel like a week in CO would help me write. I thought isolating myself would help me finish my novel, but I need to do that at home. I can’t run to Momma’s house when I have problems here, especially when the issues are in my head. Have fun, Lex!
• Not using the car has challenged D and I to find creative solutions to our issues. We walk to New Seasons. We bike to the pet store. We don’t go to Fred Meyer’s (it’s down Broadway..and down the VERY steep part of 33rd), we haven’t gone to the movies. But we have gone downtown to Powell’s and bebopped here and there. He has a transit pass. I’m using our change, but I’ve come to love riding the bus. It’s fun, of course we aren’t riding it during rush hour. I think that would be the suck.
• I’ve gotten a few “thankyoubutno” responses to my job applications. It’s disheartening. I think that was a part of my getting bummed out.
• I’m still not smoking, although I’ve wanted one recently. Must. Resist. Smoking.

I think I need to reiterate that I’m much better today. I feel like I have a handle on life, that I can do what I need to do when I need to do it, I just feel a little isolated. But that’s the hazard of not having a job. Someone freaking hire me!

And now, the puppies are demanding a walk. Fucking dogs are spoiled.

The party ended up at the casa. Now, the hallmark of a good night is that I don’t remember part of it. And ladies and gents, I don’t remember going to bed at all. The last thing I remember was drinking my wine, sitting on the porch. My BIL smuggled some wine back from South America for me, one being a bottle called “Gato Negro” —and I fucking drank it but was too intoxicated to remember why I liked it. I also apparently bought the Rent soundtrack for some reason while I was blitzed. Oh well, now D can listen to me sing Seasons of Love over and over and over again.

The vineyard was amazing. D and Manderpants and I had a blast tasting the estate wines, talking to the people who owned the place, and I found a Chardonnay I actually liked. Because Amanda and I are total dorks, we joined the wine club. Huzzah! And I bought quite a bit of their wine. It’s going to be saved for special occasions, because I’m good like that.

The presents I got were amazing. Mom bought me a necklace, and gave me some casssshhh to help out. She hates giving us money, but I promised her I would buy something nice with it —- so I bought wine. She appreciated it. Amandapants bought me a cool purple plant, and we are going to take a class together at New Space in the fall – her treat. I can’t wait! Chris bought me wine and these really cute bowls (picture forthcoming)…. I think my friends think I’m a lush ! Ahhh… gotta love being a wino.

We got some bad news about the car. D noticed that our tires are shot…and I mean undrivable. So we are carless until we can get some new tires put on the damn thing. Can I just tell you, I will be really happy when July is over with. This month sucked sooooo hard. But, on a good note, I gotta lot of booze.

I hope your week goes well. To my Seton Hill kids – write on!

One thing I find interesting, as more of a general comment, is that when I go back and look at the archives, I still self-edit. I didn’t get fully into how hurt and pissed I was when Natalia left me in Gainseville, nor the misery that ensued when I found out indirectly via Myspace that A got married, nor how the Dogfather’s distance turned into total silence. Those things really effected me. They still do. Those events laid the groundwork for the current issue(s), and how I will ultimately handle them. And again, I will try to figure out what I did wrong. But sometimes people don’t do anything wrong. Could I have been a better person, a better friend? Shit, yes. We all can, but I don’t think I’m to blame this time. With others, absolutly. I’ve paid my karma debt…. this one ain’t on me. But again….it’s time to move on.

And move on I have. D and I set about finalizing the bday plans for this weekend. Miss Amandapants, D and I are all going to a vineyard for the day. Lex won’t make it down to later in the day so she and Gregg are going to do the slumber party thing. Actually, this entire thing has turned into a slumber party. We all plan on getting pretty sloshed at the restraunt. Why? Because of the margartia list, and I loves me some margaritas.

Anyone got a spare air mattress? I don’t want Amanda driving home after margaritas. It’s just dangerous (and that woman is too fucking accident prone)…

The job hunt isn’t going terribly well. I’ve gotten no nibbles on my resume so far, but one can always hope. I just have to remind myself that I don’t have it the worst out there.

BTW…. I really like this song from Ladytron.

Here are some blanket observations from the last week or so:

• Batman was fucking fantastic. Brilliant. I have one beef & that’s Christian Bale’s “growly” voice when he’s the Batman. It bugs me…but the rest was fantabulous.
• When it comes down to brass tacks, family is all we have. Whether we include others within that sacred circle is a whole different issue, but I know when shit’s down, my sister and my husband will be there for me, and I’m a lot luckier than  most.
• I read KL’s blog daily, and I think I need a dictonary for military life. They have so many fucking acronyms! I want to lend a friendly shoulder and all, but I don’t understand half of what she talks about. It’s the same with my sister…. she has to translate mid-conversation. Does anyone have a handbook or a flyer I can read?
• I think Portland Roasting coffee is better than Stumptown. I may get flogged for this, but this girl’s got an opinion.
• No one lives in a vaccuum. This is where the hypocrite in me really needs to wake up and smell the bullshit, but I must remind the world that every action has a reaction, no matter how small. And that’s everyone’s responsibility.
• For school we have to post on a forum. It’s part of the required class structure. Race has been brought up as an issue in the program. People think WPF is too white (or doesn’t address other racial issues). I had to keep my mouth shut most of the time because I don’t think that’s what a school forum should be about. It’s supposed to be about writing, but I have to give the guy who brought the subject up a lot of credit. Even in this PC-loving world, there are underlying issues that a lot of people are uncomfortable discussing. That being said, there’s also the issue of beating a dead horse when people don’t want to address the issue. It’s a hard balance to maintain.
• I think websites don’t need a freaking soundtrack. I’ve spent a lot of time on the web, for jobs and such and the sites that start with audio really irritate me. I want to continue to listen to Ladytron or Dave Gahan without some elevator-music knockoff of techno blaring at me. /end rant
• My library doesn’t have the two books recommended by my mentor. I’ll have to buy them, but I really don’t have any room left on my shelves!

And here are some beagles for the rest of your day…

In spite of the warning from my mother, I will bankrupt myself to save this cat. D’s more logical when it comes to that kind of stuff, but I will sell most of what I have in order to pay for his surgeries. I know it won’t come down to that….but I would.

As for the job thing….. that’s for a private post.

But I’m through with my 3:

1. Grannie died.
2. Lost my job.
3. Cat with a tumor

I could also add a number of other shittastic things that have happended but it’s not about being negative. I don’t feel like I’m struggling right now. But being manic depressive, that could change in five minutes. It’s fun being able to logically contradict yourself at every turn.

D and I are going to the Night Ride tonight. 2,000 people will be downtown, with bikes, riding through the streets with smiles and stuff. We are going to have a great time.

I hope you are having a good weekend. Be grateful for what you have, because tomorrow it could be gone.

And go eat a doughnut. Life’s too short to live without sweets.

• Money is the marriage-killer. D and I went through a really rough time in the beginning and I think part of it was due to my obsession about having “enough” money. Then with the uncertainty of both of our job situations, well it made for tense times. I hate money. I love toys and presents. But I would rather not have 1 more gadget if it meant that D and I didn’t fight about money. We don’t fight now, thank goodness. We both have good jobs, but man, that was tough.
• Things happen the way they should. Being a scattered planner, I wanted things to work out a particular way. But life just doesn’t cooperate like that and I had to accept being wrong, and understand that going with the flow doesn’t mean giving up.
• Giving too much is worse than not giving enough.
• Distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, it makes you forget.
• I, the MoodyMeow, am not a superhero. I wish I was. I think my power would be to make flowers bloom and smell pretty, or to smite people without killing them.
• After 30, my skin has gone to hell. I’m a blemish factory. It’s disgusting.
• There’s no place better to eat, drink, and be merry than Portland.
• Thunderstorms are miraculous, and worth paying attention to.
• Death has made me fully realize that life’s too short to waste your time.
• Bookstores are heaven.
• How to get from my house to pretty much anywhere in Portland proper. Now, if I need to go outside the city limits, I’m screwed.
• Speaking of which, I need a GPS device rammed into my temple, and have a constant link to my sister who can guide me through Vancouver to Battle Ground when I need to go. It would just be easier if we were telepathically linked so I didn’t have to worry about my phone dying on me.
• No matter what the financial or emotional cost, family is incredibly important.
• My hair is a lot heavier than I remembered.
• I miss my shaved head.
• Pip is allergic to grass….we think. He was allergic to everything in Florida, but his allergies calmed down when we moved. Now they are acting up again. He’s getting bald spots, poor beast. At least we don’t have fleas.
• I don’t miss fleas, palmetto bugs, roaches, black widows, spiderwebs under the house, that scary-ass shed in the back yard of Nebraska Street, monsoons, being under trees and getting wetter than you would if you just stood in the storm, heat, humidity, and hurricanes.
• I do miss the thwap/whusssh sound of the sprinklers hitting the palms in Leu Gardens, red-bellied woodpeckers, bats, purple sunsets, thunderstorms at dusk, the sound of the rain on the chimney-cap, low-hanging eaves and windows that opened, the Nebraska Street front porch, the Rollins Campus.

Grannie’s been gone for a long, long time. And it’s best for her that she goes. It’s the kindest thing to wish for her because there is nothing that dulls the pain, and there are machines breathing for her and she, if she still possessed the faculties she had 10 years ago, would be horrified by her current situation. A woman who can’t dress herself? Shocking. But I’m human, and I’m selfish. I want one more conversation with the woman who cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner after I moved to Miami. I want to eavesdrop on her conversations with my Grandfather where she says that she’s so proud that I’m making on my own, but won’t tell me to my face because my head might get too big. I want to steal a moment at her jewelry box, where she plied me with pink plastic, but because I loved her so completely, I let her hold the shiny baubles to my ears.

She always wanted a girly granddaughter. Thank god Lex is around.

It’s not something I talk about regularly, but I lived with my grandparents after my parents divorced. My mother had reconnected with the man that would eventually be my stepfather, and for reasons I only am beginning to understand, Mom left me in Tampa with Grannie and Gramps while she secured our home and livelihood in Alabama. I’d already moved through one school that semester, she was trying to keep me from shifting again. Grannie and Gramp’s neighbors took care of me in the early afternoon while Grannie and Gramps worked. And when they came home it was “E, how was your day at school.”

She held me when I was incapable of saying the word “father.” I had a hard time articulating my emotions back then, and I think I still have that problem. But I always felt like Grannie had that space, that energy, that made being angry okay, or being sad, or hurt, or whatever – it was all justifiable. When I lived with them, she made sure I had a safe space in which to heal, room to cry, and rage, and laugh. And I spent that time in a kind of emotional bubble, which would burst in the most spectacular way when I moved back home with Mom and my siblings.

Grannie is my only grandmother. My stepfather’s mother died several years ago, and due to my problems with him, I never allowed a real relationship with blossom with her. My father’s mother is somewhere in California, but I haven’t spoken to her since I was a teenager. But Grannie’s seen the drug addict, the pierced-face, the tattoos, the boyfriends (only 1 – but she loved D), the best friends, the goth girl in big boots, the raver in big pants, and the adult I would learn to be.

She walked during my wedding. I joke that I had to have that whole goofy thing for her, and honestly, she was one of the main reasons D and I did that. But she walked, for the first time in months, that night. I don’t think she’s walked since. And it was beautiful seeing her, dressed in yellow, smiling, exhausted by the chaos. She couldn’t go to Lex’s wedding because of the altitude, and the fact that she couldn’t fly anymore, but she was more than ready to go to Orlando. And she didn’t blink at the fact that I wore a black dress and carried a bouquet with a peacock feather. For all her judgments, I like to think she accepted who I am.

I don’t really know where this post is going. I guess I am just walking through the blue, trying to find her smile in my memories, and the sound of her voice as she hummed, rocking me into a blissful sleep, after wiping my tears and my worry away.

She is the matriarch I will never be.

Fucking duh!

But I am now interested in reading the book. Not because it Bush bashes, because Mr. McClellan was on of Bush’s chums. I don’t think there’s going to be a lot of overt criticism of the president But Rice, and Powell, and Rove – those stories still interest me, although I know they will royally piss me off.

I never finished my weekend recap.

So, on Sunday, after we BBQ’d out at the park, Lex and I had to figure out something to cook for the brood. After much discussion (see: confused arguing and “no – you decide” type conversation) we opted for the grill again. This time, I would grill out veggie skewers, baked taters (hurricane food), asparagus and veggie Italian sausage. G would cook the meatworst (brats) and the corn. It ended up being that I cooked everything except the meat. But it came out holyshit good. The grilled asparagus was almost perfect. A little olive oil, salt and pepper plus fire and you have

*ta da!*

Really damn good food. And I bought 2 bunches of it, thinking that I would lose about half to being overripe or slightly foul, but they were perfect. I even got the non veggieheads trying out the stuff. And again, my nephew J loved it all. And I want a big-ass grill with lots of fire, because that made the food damn tasty. Some of Lex’s neighbors came over, and we all ended up talking until late in the evening…okay it was 2:30 or so when I went to bed.

And we left first thing in the morning. But Lex called yesterday and told me I left my spices there. I bring them with me when I go to her house, because well….she doesn’t have some of the same stuff I do.  But I left them there, and that means, eating out tonight.

Now, back to work, but…. little linkies…kind of like sausages, but not.

• Find out what’s in season, and cook it. Being up here in the NW, it’s harder to get foods year round and I can tell you right now, the garlic I’m getting today vs. the garlic I bought 2 months ago is FAR superior, so it’s nice to know what’s out there so I can plan accordingly.
• Gay birds…good parents. I find these kinds of articles interesting, because I think they go towards proving that being gay, straight, transgendered, etc. is not a choice. It’s something we are born with. And as such, I won’t deny that I still fancy girls….from afar.
• And I am going to start taking Budokon classes. I bought the DVD a few years ago, and tried to keep with it, but once I get my ass home, it’s just too easy to sit down. Twice a week, it should help get me into shape and move my brain from constantly thinking about smoking, and more into thinking about peaceful things….like…..not smoking. Momma needs help, and this is good for me because it’s part martial arts and part yoga.
• Half and half equals… a vote that most don’t know how to court. Being half white and half hispanic, one could argue that I don’t have enough of a ethnic mix to give a shit about the other ethnicities, but I do, and when people pay attention to that which isn’t WASPish, then I perk up as well.
• How to carve up the N Pole - and it just makes me sad.
• But this, of course, makes me very happy.

Have a chipper Wednesday.

We took the  Max all over the city this weekend. First a trip to the Portland Saturday Market, then back to la casa to walk el puppies, then back downtown to go to Velour, then to Beaverton, and then back to our side of the world. It’s really nice not having to drive. Really. Spending the time, chatting with D, taking in the sights and sounds of the drunks and disillusioned, watching people listen, laughing at the overly affectionate couple. A story (many stories) could be told about the people on the train.

D encouraged me to buy a new bracelet with a quote on it to remind me of who I am and why I am. It says:

May my thinking be creative and fill the world with light.

It’s a good reminder. It also fits my wrist perfectly. You gotta love his taste in everything.

I think I’m tired of Halo. I should spend more time reading anyway. So, this is fair warning to everyone. I’m going to dissappear for a few weeks. I’ve got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it in. Don’t be offended if I don’t call, write or blog. Feel free to call & write. I need the distractions sometimes to clear my head.

Oh, and on Flyday, we had sewage in the bathtub. Roto rooter came out and told me that the pipes were set to a shallow grade, and that we’d end up with another clog if we kept putting shit down the drain. Even with the garbage disposal…. frack. So, I’m going to look into composting. They’ve got these cool little composters that sit under the sink with the garbage can so that you can compost in your kitchen, rather than have a huge pile of rotting food in your yard. I’m all kinds of a treehugger and shit, but that could be quite nasty. We’ll see where this goes.

• Thank you Alexis for being my friend, and for making me laugh.
• Thanks C&B for one of the best Saturdays we’ve ever had.
• Thanks Amandapants for showing me my favorite restraunt in town.
• And thanks D for being you. I like your pants

I need to get myself some lunch. Happy Monday.