Moody Meow

I slept like the dead last night. Using the treadmill will do that for you, if you pull yourself out of your own way to get something done. One thing I haven’t done: laundry. It’s still in a pile, collecting animal hair, and serving as the comfiest bed to both beagle and feline. Wish I had time to fold it. Okay… I do. But I wanted to sleep and watch a movie with D.  Perhaps I’ll get to it today.

So, D had an interview with Xerox (please ignore this if you read it before), and he should hear on Flyday whether or not he got the job. Cross everything you’ve got. Really. Yes, I even meant your eyes. Okay, well you can cross your eyes later. You need it to read this. Read on, cross your eyes later. But at least cross your fingers.

I read this on MSNBC regarding Heath Ledger’s funeral:

Fox News’ John Gibson on Jan. 22 opened his radio show with funeral music and mocked a signature line from “Brokeback,” saying, “Well, he found out how to quit you.”

Can I say…that’s just disgusting. And I’m tired of hearing the word “fag.” I hear it @ work. I hear it on the Xbox. Tired of it. Homophobia pisses me off. Let’s be honest guys (because guys seem to have more of a problem with the whole “gay” thing)… he’s probably not that into you.  Besides, Heath Ledger was a great actor, regardless of the roles he played. I’m sure some of your favorite actors(resses) have played tyrannical bastards, but no one blinks an eye when that happens. Mention boy on boy booty, and then the world freaks out. It’s enough to make me tear my hair out.

On a happier note, I smell like Burt’s Bees. It’s good stuff.

The weather here has been amazing. It’s damn cold, don’t get me wrong, which is why my blankets on the couch are so groovy. I run from the car, into the house, fend off the dogs and cats, drop my bags, and bounce under the blankets. It’s just for a few moments, because when I get home, the beagles want their food. The cold itself isn’t the problem right now, it’s the wind. It finds your marrow and freezes it solid. For hours, I struggle to get warm. I’m even wearing socks on a regular basis. But the views when I drive to work are just magnificent. St. Helens and Mt. Hood glow, the city’s taller towers peek from tall trees. Reflective windows shine warm light all over the city. Everyone seems to smile, although it’s hard to see their faces when they are half-strangled by scarves. Have I mentioned that I love scarves? I love them. There, now you know my secret.

My hands are cracking and my lip bleeds a lot because of the cold. Hence, why I smell like Burt’s Bees right now. I’d have them bleeding and cold everyday to live here. Luckily, it’s going to start getting warmer in a month or two.

I need more coffee.

Toodles

Portland is among the top 10 walkable cities. What confused the hell out of me — Miami?!? Really? I lived there. Sure, you can walk down the street, but you are going to walk damn far to get to a bus. The only pleasant areas to walk around were the Grove, the Beach and sometimes Coral Gables. As a whole, you need a car.

I walk a lot more, now that I’ve moved to Portland. I love walking here. I feel safe, stores are close, and honestly it is easier to walk to the grocery store than it is to drive.

So, I’m taking a break from scrambling my brain and I came across this article about having a green christmas. D and I don’t celebrate Xxxmas, at least not in the traditional way. I’m soooo not christian, and D is .. well he’s D. I decided that I do want lights this year. They seem cheerful to me, and because it gets dark here so freaking early, I have more time to gaze and admire the look of them. Lights I can do. A tree? Hell no. But presents are always welcome.

I snarkily laughed at this article in USA today. Gotta love the echo-chamber nature of conservative blogs. I’ve read a few that were written with intelligence and insight, that searched the meaning of the conservative movement. In general, those blogs offered ideas that almost made sense to me. Hate mongers line both sides of the isle, and people who parrot the party lines. I just wish poeple would stand and listen for a moment, all people, to make sure they aren’t being taken advantage of by their political persuasions .

I always thought this was a bad idea. But that’s just me.

It dawned on me a few days ago that I won’t be able to visit my sister until Xxxmas. We can’t afford the cost of the trip, especially now that I-5 is closed right, smack dab in the middle of my normal route. Those storms last week really did a doozy. For my readers in Florida, imagine if you lived on the coast and 95 was closed. — now imagine that between Lauderdale and Miami. It’s a bitch. The detour they planned out takes you 200 miles out of the way. A 2 - 2.5 hour trip will now take 5. Ouch. It kind of bums me out though. I want to go up or have her come down here, but that’s just not feasible right now. I think I’m pmsing or something.

It’s back to work for me.

I’ve started collecting furniture from my friends. That gold chair that everyone loves to hate came from my friend Karen. Then D’s desk is actually one that Julie (the Rev) gave me when she moved from the apartment near Rollins to her place off Ferncreek. Now I have a desk from C. It’s beautiful. She refinished it, and it shines. What makes me happiest is its legs match my other desk, the one D bought for my birthday.  Now I have room for my printer, books, and a place to put my laptop when I’m not working on it. I’ve got both a desktop and a laptop running most of the time. There’s room for everything now.

It took me a long time, but we finally saw the last Harry Potter film.  I think I’ve talked about McMenamins Kennedy School before. It’s walking distance from our house, and when I want a good veggie burger with tater tots covered in crack, I go there. The building also houses a movie theatre. It’s late runs. 310 to Yuma and Harry Potter are playing right now. I was very impressed with the price - 3 bucks per person.  Then we found out that the entire restaurant menu was available for theatre goers. Fantastico! Finally, when we got into the theatre itself, we saw the amazing seating. All of the seats were couches or chairs, spaced nicely, with cute end-tables dotted here and there for good measure. I found a seat with an unobstructed view, and D and I snuggled down for the show. Oh, they also don’t allow anyone under 21 in the movie after 6 (insert happy dance here) and you can buy booze. I’m going to make myself a regular. It’s good good stuff.

Today is miserable. The winds are ripping the last of the fall colors off the trees, brutally, I might add. The wind is steady around 2o mph, with gusts up to 40. Chilling rain thwapped me in the face when I ran outside to rescue my plants. I think winter arrived this morning.

I’ve got a lot of work to do, but I keep getting distracted by Puzzle Quest and Heroes. I’m such a dork.

and now, for some linkage:

Am I the only person who doesn’t think that this season’s Heroes has been a problem? Sheesh.

20 films that changed CGI history — I heart Tron!

Liberal is a bad word in politics. And it seems another person’s morals are being questioned because she’s doing what she thinks is right. (or left, in the mind of her detractors) Why is that so fucking wrong?

• Still in the midst of deadline, this is a quick post while I cook.
• Our fireplace is toast. We can’t burn anything. The firebox itself is solid, but the chimney is falling apart. One strong wind, and we will lose bricks. That means I am very bitter.
• The heater died as well. After NW Natural Gas came out to look at the heater, we were forwarded to a contractor. The contractor told us it died because of a safety switch. Basically it committed suicide so we can be safe. The landlord is having it replaced on Friday. *grumble grumble*
• Finally, on the house front — the landlord came over today to negotiate with the heater contractor, and she let it slip that they never did an inspection on the house when she bought it. What does that mean? This place is a lemon. We ain’t sticking around.
• We picked up my Ratchet and Clank game. It makes me drool.
• I bought an egg timer so I can schedule things more efficiently. I know it’s silly, but when the bell rings, I have to switch up what I’m doing. It’s a good system for me.
• Academic reading is really fucking boring. For my undergrad, I skimmed a lot of books, but for this program, I had to read an entire book on the advent of the Book of the Month club and its effect on the publishing industry. Interesting, sorta. Most of it made my eyes bleed.
• It’s raining.
• I can’t wait for the weekend. It’s my first Halloween party in Portland
• The thanksgiving holiday is getting nutso. All my fam (Mom, sister and fam, brother), C&B plus Sarah and C’s brother, Amandapants….. it’s gonna be soooo much fucking fun!
• Leopard comes out on the 26th!! Wh00t!
• I really think this is cool.
• I started my other blog. It’s more stuffy, but have fun (it’s also still in the works. Got some kinks there)
• It’s time for dinner.

I really can’t stand Anne Coulter. She’s a hateful skeeze, and the only reason she gets play on television is because she pisses everyone off. That’s entertainment! Why do people buy her books? Why would someone support a woman so full of hatred and disdain (in full disclosure - I haven’t read any of her books, and don’t plan to)?  She is beloved by the right. She really is. She makes a living with her name calling and rude assumptions. And now, I am writing about her, because she pisses me off. And people listen to her. By the way, she doesn’t think a woman’s right to vote is a good thing.

this is poorly written, but then again, what would you expect from a Liberal?

Wow, they do things stupider in Texas, don’t they? If the person taking the rental application saw the tattoos to begin with, then why let them conintue with the process? And they took their money for the fee! Man, this makes me want to buy a house.

I understand the argument between private property rights (as in the right of the landowner) and the rights of the individual. As someone who is tatted up quiet nicely, I understand that I have to cover things in order to make a go at life sometimes. But I’ve never heard of anything this restrictive when it comes to a living situation. While it’s not right, it is legal. The guy is still a douche for setting that  policy up. I would think that someone with a clean credit history and good references would be a find for a landlord.

This makes me glad to live in Portland.

I read this today, and it worried me. I remember (I and miss) the suddenness of Florida storms, how they erupt in a moment and either bathe the world in water or tear the houses down. The rains here are nothing short of gentle and kind. Misty and almost mysterious, they don’t assault the senses like Florida storms can. As a result, no one writes stories about the storms here, but there — well you guys keep your eyes out for those twisters. They scare the shit out of me.

I still read the news from Florida, especially Orlando. I’m keeping tabs on things, checking up, making sure the place hasn’t gone to pot since I left. It’s more than a little narcissistic to think that it would, but it was my home for a very long time, so I like to keep tabs on things. I realize that I owe a lot of people phone calls. Wait till after the 25th. I have a school deadline, so please just be patient.

I bought a new helmet for my bike today. The old one was perfect, except that it doesn’t fit on my head anymore. Why? My fucking hair. The front is almost down to my chin and the back is way beyond my shoulders now. I have big, thick, tangley hair, and it doesn’t sit well in a helment that was sized when I had no/short hair. Ahh, vanity.

Why do the maker’s of womens’ sport gear/clothing/equipment insist on using pink? I’m not 5, sucking on a lolipop, dragging around a doll. It drives me NUTS! I don’t want to wear pink. A lot of women I know don’t want to wear pink, so why does “women’s” automatically mean that there has to be some pink flower or stripe? Gah! It drives me mad! I’m a woman. I’ve got boobs and a chip on my shoulder about gender-specific colors. Can’t I just have some green or purple on something that fits me properly? Please?
*end snark*
Wait… also. Enough with the fucking flowes already!
*really…end of the snark*

And now back to my regularly scheduled homework.

I used to kid that he would die before he finished the series. I feel like a total ass now.
Sweet dreams great author.

I think this is crazy, but it still made me laugh.

• The squirrels have finally arrived at my feeder. Happiness.
• D and I found my favorite Zin again… but we are calling it Follie of Doom.
• I haven’t had a hang over like that in eons.
• When a drunk E says “just one more bottle” — it’s a bad thing.
• I love playing dominoes.
• Puzzle games are crack.
• B makes damn good pizza.
• The raccoons here are massive
• I hope Frankie does well in NY
• Sometimes, all you need is some salsa
• Congrats to Miss Amandapants! She gotta job!
• She also has a blog — and will update it if I have to beat her!
• This is a little scary. Jeesus.
• We went here yesterday. Nice store - amazing jewelry.
• Happy trails to Hollie who’s in Dallas now
• Things like this make me want to cry.
• Yet another reason I want a PS3
• We bought a compass so I don’t get lost in the city.
• It’s huge.
• The Parks near my house are amazingly beautiful.
• It’s time to get to work.

RIP

So very sad. Did you read her books?

It’s been a few crazy days, but there’s much to talk about today.

First and foremost — congrats to Claire! She had her baby and is home resting well.

I’ve come to a realization here in Portland that the servers function in their own time-space continuum. While the service was spotty throughout Orlando, I find the comparision with Portland slightly disturbing. To be honest, we’ve gotten good service at only a few places. And it seems that the more we pay for a meal, the less likely we are to be treated like human beings. It’s frustrating. I don’t expect a whole lot, honestly. Keep my coffee/water/adult beverage full, don’t make me ask for silverware, and don’t cut eyes at me when you ask if I need anything else. The only place I’ve found consistent service is at *gasp* chain restaurants. It makes me ill sometimes. But there’s so much good food in Portland. We found a place that serves veggie comfort food and another rockin’ breakfast place. Both had excellent meals, and the service was spotty, but didn’t hinder my longing to return.

We’ve discovered that opossums do live in the great Northwest. If you’ve read this blog for any amount of time, you should know about a few of our incidents. One, was the burgler possum trapped in the hallway, then there was a nice little fuzzy who lived under the Nebraska Street house beneath the bathtub (it was hard not to get freaked out when you heard his/her nails scratching the tub, then there was the one (probably the same little bastard) that the beagles tortured every night. This weekend, we found out that opossums live here as well. The dogs went out for their nightly romp, and went apeshit for some reason. I called them in, so as not to disturb our barking-sensitive neighbors, and the night wore on. About 2ish we let them out again, and Pip started screaming. Dog screams are unlike any other sound in the world. I could tell he was scared. I ran outside again, called them in, and figured out that they cornered a big ass opossum. The thing is the size of Valentine. The dogs seemed irritated, but fine. Miss A sat on the couch, petting Pip when she looked at her hand in shock.

“I think he’s bleeding.”

We ran him into the bathroom and found three puncture marks under his chin. One bled pretty steadily. Poor Pip - I made him roll over and cleaned the wound. Then I put neosporin on it, and tried to make sure there wasn’t any other hidden bites. We figured out that the stupid creature probably tried to play dead. Puck’s smart, and stayed back, just barking at the bastard, but Pip probably nosed him, and that’s when it bit him. D and I ran back outside. The thing looked scared, hissed at us, but wouldn’t move. We chucked a few rocks near him, hoping he would jump up and run, but he stuck his ground, and kept hissing.

Fast forward to the following morning. D lets the dogs out after breakfast while I am in the bathroom getting ready. He starts yelling, and drags Puck into the bathroom with me. His head was smeared with opossum shit. I hope you never, ever have to smell that rank stuff. I’ve dealt with poop in my life - after all, we have four creatures, but that shit really stank. Puck looked pleased with himself until I tossed his ass in the bathtub. D said he was rolling in the spot where the opossum was the night before. Stupid dog… gah! And we just had them groomed too. While I bathed the beagle, D went out back to pick up all the poop he could find. Puck got clean. I got annoyed, and thought I smelled possum shit for the rest of the day. Gah. It gives me heebyjeebies just thinking about it now.

Miss A discovered biking, and I found my love for it again. We went with her to purchase her brand new pimp-mobile, and then took a ride on Monday. The view from the trail is amazing. The sun was setting, and Mt. Hood looked orange and pink. Sometimes it gets hazy and you can’t see Mt. Hood at all, but it was clear and beautiful. The river borders the trail, so I had to try to keep my eye on where I was going rather than stare at the boats and floating wood. We are going to head back out there tomorrow. It’s time for another ride.

I’ve also discovered that I don’t know how to use a sewing machine. My sister came down from Tacoma just to give me a lesson. It’s pathetic really. There’s math involved in sewing, so I know I’m screwed. If you come into our bedroom, and notice the curtains, just smile and nod. So far, the two panels I’ve sewed are uneven. So please pretend they are pretty or I will cry….. maybe.

This is chunky… I’m not up to editing.

I’ve taken to this whole “unemployed” thing. I spend my days reading, exploring the city, writing, and today I will garden. The yard is a blank canvas. It needs some love. We went to Home Depot the other day, Friday I think, and when I tried to pick up a bag of garden soil, my bare toe caught the wooden pallet. I ripped a chunk of it open. It bled profusely. D looked very worried as I insisted that we continue to shop for a trowell and a little shovel. My toe is fine. I’m wearing a pirate band-aid. And today I will plant my jasmine and the johnny jump-ups that I stole from my mother. Actually, she dug them up for me, but I thought it fitting that she gave me flowers.

Speaking of things from Mom. My mother has a major stash of jewelry. Much of it is costume, sparkley and dated, things that I don’t really want. But she has pieces, like a few opals, that I lust after. Then there were the bangles. See, when I decided that I wanted to wear bracelets again (yes, this was an active decision), I searched high and low for jangly bangles. I couldn’t remember where I got the longing from, but now I remember. My mother wore a set of 9 or so when I was a child. They sounded cheerful. Lex and I went through Mom’s stuff, with her permission of course. She sat with us, told us the stories behind some of the pieces. We saw things that Mom wore when we were kids, and some awful charms we bought her. She still has the Gonzo charm, and the little frog. Kids don’t have much taste. Then she pulled out the bangles. I traded my traveler’s bracelet. It means a lot to me, but I love that Mom’s wearing it now. And on my wrist, the happy bangles jangle, and I think of her and my childhood.

The road trip with Lex was fun. I took some amazing pictures of rocks in Utah ( I really do hate that state), but I drove a lot of the way, so I don’t have very many pictures. We spent a lot of time with Mom, and we had some good discussions. One thing I will have to do in the future is to protect the posts about my family. I refuse to let my contemplations and observations to be used as weapons against my family. Unfortunatly, that could and would happen. So, I get to talk shit as usual, I’m just going to limit who sees what. The password will be different this time, but e-mail me when I post somehting and you are curious.

D and I went to C and B’s house last night. He has a PS3 —- I WANT ONE! So purdy. *stars in eyes*

Now, before I go and eat.. a list for you.

• D fixed the garbage disposal. Yay!
• Bean dip is a good dinner.
• Stumptown coffee is the best.
• I’m now addicted to Portland Metroblogging
• I was a part of Orlando Metroblogging for 5 minutes, but I didn’t write (I had my senior thesis to finish) so they cut me off.
• Ooops
• I’m dreaming of more tattoos
• I don’t have enough walls for all of my stuff
• We need to get the fireplace serviced.
• The birds still don’t like my birdfeeder.
• I’m smoking too much these days
• We finished unpacking finally.
• I still don’t have a place for my cds
• The beagles love C’s house.
• They are especially fond of running up and down the stairs.
• I really missed C and B while I was gone.
• We are planning a big Thanksgiving with family and friends
• Although we don’t usually celebrate holidays, I think I can make an exception this time.
• We went to the worst and best restaurant on the same night.
• It’s coffee time.

The trauma with my hands continues. I went to the doc and they told me that I have bone pain. No shit! I just paid someone money to tell me something I already knew? Lovely. Next, a hand doc. The bad thing is that I lose my insurance next week. Wonder if I can bang this fucker out.

Julie had her spawnling shower on Sunday. She raked it in - lots of diapers, cloths, spit-rags (eww!), and other baby things that confuse me. I love the Rev, and although our relationship has gone through a few hiccups (errors on my part) I am very well aware of what she means to me. But, this baby stuff? I just can’t get into it. I will be a good pseudo-aunt from a distance, and I am sure the kid will be adorable, but baby showers make me nervous for some reason. I was glad to go for her, but honestly happy when I escaped from the overwhelming sensation of drowning in estrogen and the deafening squeals of “Oooooh! That’s so CUTE!” Julie, I love you… truly.  I bought non-pink items. Someone bought purple clothing! I should have thought of that!

D and I took Rojalita over to his mother’s house on Saturday. We got it detailed, sorta. Octopus did a fair job getting the car all spiffy looking on the outside, but there was still infernal dog fur in the back seat. I used to obsess about such things. No dog fur on couches and cars!  Then again, the beagles are painfully adorable, and I relent. So, I tried to get as much fur out as possible, but Mom’s going to get the car detailed again. She wasn’t pleased with my air freshener. It plainly displayed the appropriate hand signals for irritating drivers. D knew it was there and didn’t take it down. He thought it was funny.

Shit! I need to drive nicely! Erica…remember the speed limit…. yes… the speed limit. Oooohhhmmmm…
This is kind of cool. If a drought has any benefits, perhaps revealing our history is one of them.

Mmm… Apple. Yes, I think Apples are cool just because they are from Apple. I’m a fan-grrl. Eat it!

5 Rides to work towards. I will be the bike mastah!

More biking in Portland! Fun fun fun…

Now it’s time for one of my bossy people to take me out to lunch. Mmmm lunch!

Wandering the web, and look what I found.

I lost my son to a war I oppose. We were both doing our duty. The idea that saying anything against the war is a crime against the troops, well that’s just a tactic our government uses to get us to shut the fuck up. This is a beautifully written piece. And it’s illuminating.

And I won’t shut up anymore.

Speaking of war.. I found this via Digg. I am amazed by the moronic comments made by the talking heads we call newscasters. She needs to go back to that morning show she had and let the real newsmen and newswomen take the news back from ignorance and entertainment. Gah!

Another Digg find. …but I am embarrassed to say that I know a lot less than I should. And I’m headed to grad school! For shame!

Are you aggressive? Yes? then you shall get laid!

What happened on the day you were born?

With the departure of the futon, the front room has becoming the staging station for the building box towers. I thought, albeit naively, that all of the boxes I’d collected from work would be plenty for our books. Dead wrong was I (we watched a show about the history of Star Wars last night…sorry. Yoda speak I will). More and more books seem to erupt from long ignored shelves and little boxes. My habit of collecting books that form a tower, thereby limiting the flat space they take up, has increased the number of books that need to be boxed. I’ve gone through the stacks and find that I’m not leaving much behind. I will donate what I can to the library (never throw away books or the gods will smite you and make you read poorly written political fodder for the rest of your life) and then take the other stuff to used book stores. I can’t let go of books, and it may be the death of me.

I love hanging out at Anne’s house. It’s roomy, and comfy and it reminds me of a long-gone era when people sat in their driveway while neighborhood kids played hide and seek on the dark street. There’s a pool table in the garage and the extra fridge for the beer and soda. We ate bean dip, talked late into the evening and had a very good time. Anne’s a great hostess. Will’s a wonderful host, and I will miss them both when we leave.

We have so much to do and I only have three weeks left of work (woooo fucking hoooo and I REALLY mean that) and then our life truly speeds up. Holyshit!

D and I have more stuff to give away, although I think we may have a garage sale first. I’m getting a little funny about money. It was bound to happen. Do we have enough? Will we survive? Can I get my meds? It’s just a little panic attack. I will get over it.

Might I share this? I’ve posted several times about the shifting safety in our neighborhood and the other neighborhoods that surround the downtown area. We lived in Delaney Park, and now we live in Colonialtown. We have watched the crime grow as they evict and eject the poor and needy from their usual facilities in Parramore. We’ve someone carjacked a citizen and then had a standoff with the police @ Mills and Nebraska. The cops killed him. I wondered how many bullets they shot and if any inadvertently ended up in someone’s house. Then there was an older woman murdered in her home buy a homeless guy strung out on Meth. Then I got chased by 2 drunk people in Colonialtown. This happened some months ago, but it does happen. I don’t know what Orlando needs to do, but I think adding police and mental health and addiction facilities are a good idea. What else to do? I don’t know. Land is at a premium now, especially downtown. The revitalization doesn’t include the poor. Shouldn’t it?

I would like to see if you all have boxes. We need all shapes and size, although mid-sized are kind of preferred. Things like dragons (wooden and stone), picture frames, candle holders, and misc bits of this need boxes. I’m going to get creative on many things - like the television, but I will worry about that later. Is it bad that I don’t want to pack up the Xbox and the Playstation until the VERY last minute? I’m such a dork.

I have a bruised finger and my lip is a little sensitive. And I know you are going to ask why, because I know you care. Hollie and her friend came over to get the futon. I forgot how heavy and awkward it was. D and I had to turn it on its side, shimmy it through the front door and then try to get it into Hollie’s Suburban. Hollie had a hell of a time getting all of her seats down (read the instructions next time woman!!) but we finally managed and were able to get the futon and the mattress in. It was a comical scene, truly. But while pulling the futon into the Suburban, my finger got caught. It hurts us, precious. And then as D and I walked out the door with it, the foot snagged on the door jam and my lip smashed into it. Ouch. I am the kind of friend that bleeds (and smooshes fingers ) for others. I deserve a pat on the back! Just kidding.

And……. that is why I hate being short, by the way. D and I are totally not in sync when it comes to carrying things. And I am too chicken shit to wear my platform shoes because I am painfully clumsy. Gah!

And now, a list for Hollie (hehehe).

• D and I are giving the car to Mom on Saturday
• D and I are giving the bookshelves to Julie on Saturday
• D and I are heading to Anne’s (with some plants) on Saturday
• I have to clean up the front yard.
• The beagles already miss their futon.
• I have gas.
• I am pmsing
• I have a headache
• The planted onions make me happy.
• I have to clean/write my resume
• I didn’t get any responses to the houses I contacted in Portland
• I wanna frickin house already.
• D and I are going to see Pirates on Friday
• “To err is to Human…. To Arr is to Pirate“
• That is the best shirt ever.
• Okay…not the absolute best.
• “This t-shirt hides my cold robot interior“
• That’s my favorite shirt.
• I am tired of this attitude about the gay lifestyle.
• I can’t donate blood because I lived in Germany
• Sometimes, I am ashamed to be a part of this country.
• (No - that was not an article about the war, so chill out).
• Yay for the tortoises!
• I need a “native birds of Oregon” book.
• I have (thanks to Frankie and Cat) the dog lover’s guide & a guide to vineyards.
• I’m going to take the beagles and get drunk.
• And now, I am going to revel in my headache and swim in my coffee
• PIRATES COMES OUT TOMORROW
• YYYYYARRRRR!
• (I need a parrot, a peg - leg and a hook…. really… but only a stuffed toy parrot)
• Sometimes, people surprise me with their generosity and frank observations.
• I think its best to be thankful for what I’ve experienced here rather than to remain bitter about the conflicts.
• I think, in spite of it all, that I’ve grown at as a person due to my job and I will take away the best of those experiences and I hope that people I worked learned a little something from me, even if it’s just how to unjam the copier or install printer drivers.
• I’ve learned a lot from them…

Sometimes I’m just odd.

For weeks, two onions grew long, pale leaves, and they were growing said greenery in my vegetable drawer in the fridge. I didn’t want to throw them away. After all, they were mighty pretty. So, when in doubt - call Mom. She told me to pot them and when they’ve established some good root structures, plant them in the yard.

She told me to do that three weeks ago, and I finally got around to it last night…..

at 11.

I was sitting on my porch steps, digging through dusty Miracle Grow, and I couldn’t figure out why the damn water kept pooling and running over the tops of the pots. WTF? Then I remembered Good Eats. Seems Alton Brown’s  advice regarding adding wet goods to dry is also applicable to dirt and water. What to do next? Make mud soup. My fingers haven’t squished themselves through dark, wet mud since I was a snot-faced, scabby-kneed kid. Water moved into dirt and mud oozed and I was very, very happy. Only after D came out to see what was taking me so long (did I mention it was 11 and he’s usually sending me to bed at that hour) that I realized I was having fun. After another few minutes, I planted the onions. They are quite beautiful and the pots sit next to my ivy and mini bamboo plant. And the leaves smell lovely… a little like.. onions.

By the way -  you should close the bag of Miricale Grow so it doesn’t end up fluffy, dusty dirt. And it makes great mudpies.

And that story is to share with you how random I am sometimes. I will delay and procrastinate in doing something (yes, something as simple as planting an onion - or as important as getting the wedding rings) and only finish the project when it feels right. Sometimes I don’t even know that I am purposefully halting the progress of this or that. Then something clicks, and its okay to move forward. Why is that?

30 bits of trivia about Star Wars. I think D knows all of this already, but its fun to review. Ahhh… geekdom

I think I should try to make this….. heheheh

You may not be interested, but this is kind of dick. WTF is up with Apple? Don’t they know I don’t have AT&T? Gah! I won’t change my carrier, at least not right now. I love technology, and I love Apple products, but this just seems counterproductive, and lets not mention the price point?!?! Shit. I’ll just get a PS3 and call it a day. I’m horrible with phones anyway.

Speaking of PS3…..ooohhhh. Happiness. Mmmm...

D linked me to this article (or blog postish type thingy) by Joss Wheadon - of Firefly fame (yes, I know he did Buffy and that other thing, but I loved Firefly…and it’s my blog — so nah!). Read the whole thing. I don’t know why I am endlessly surprised by men who really respect women, who try to understand where the toughness and tenderness and coexist. I’ve never been of the mind that women are better than men, that we are superior, but there’s something to our ability to create life that no man can take away.

This may be hypocritical of me to say. I’m well aware that I don’t want children (thank you — did my spawning at 16 — the genes have been spread) but I can still create life if I chose. My womb is a cyclic dance, endlessly moving and changing. That will never end. And it seems, neither will the violence against women. Why are we so frightening? Why is it okay to subjugate women to a male ego.

Please understand that I am not saying this as an abused or even irritated woman. I’m married to the kindest man in the universe, and my brother is similarly reverent of women. There are many people in my life who have never hit a woman or talked down to them or demeaned them. But theres always someone out there who thinks it is okay to denigrate their wife or emotionally abuse their mother. Or… that it’s okay to hit.

I realize this is kind of unfocused rambling, but this issue rings in a place I thought long healed. It’s tickling at memories I would like to forget. If you love a woman, any woman, remember that we deserve respect and kindness and an equal footing in society, otherwise, we are just perpetuating stereotypes over and over again.

For the record — I’ve been many things a woman’s not supposed to be: blunt, uncompromising, sexually adventurous, fierce, and thoughtful. That will never change. You can call me a bitch, a slut, crazy and emotional — it’s all about the adjectives, I guess. But you can’t take away the fact that I’m a strong woman.