• 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.

Oh. Yeah.

It was in the living room when I was sleeping.

And I never set the alarm. Go me.

The Thanksgiving weekend ended with a whimper. I am constantly reminded how different I am from the rest of my family. It’s not a bad thing, just an observation. But this visit was clouded with the coming doom – our move from the house on 33rd. I should have known the place would be trouble. I used to work near 33rd in Orlando – which is the prison. Fun times. 33rd is not a nice street – or so I have convinced myself. So, while my normal mood would be cheerful and fun, I found myself very short tempered and prone to sullying a day of thanks with a feelings of self-pity. That’s not the way to spend the holiday. Frankly, I think everyone was on edge. My Mom is muddling through a divorce right now, and her mother died this summer. Alexis is dealing with the divorce in her own way and her husband is overseas. Derick’s job is in a serious slowdown due to the economy. It felt like the entire vacation was colored by ick. Still, there were highlights, like the perfect tofurkey, my brother becoming a drunk Liger and biting my sister (who are both in their late 20′s, I might add), having my sister ask what the best and worst part of our day was with my brother and I answering “The worst was waking with a hangover, and the best is that the hangover is gone.” We shopped, and I bought a new sweater (my mother, of course, had to snarkily comment that it was black), drank too much, and purchased 50 bucks worth of David Hill Farmhouse Red because we didn’t get to go to the vineyard.

David and I, on top of hosting guests, had to go look at houses this weekend. For the money these people are charging, you sure don’t get much. We want to stay in the NE part of the city for many reasons, most of which are because we have ties here – my gym, D’s chiropractor, the parks, and our favorite breakfast place. We looked at two houses that DID NOT offer appliances. One was completely devoid of appliances, and the other had a stove. But most importantly, they were run down. I know what several coats of paint does to a cupboard, and how it sticks. There were 2 houses we have liked so far – on on NE Buffalo and another on NE 58th. The Buffalo house is bigger, with no appliances. It was remodeled recently, but the pergo floor was already bubbling up, and while it had three nice sized bedrooms, the carpet was absolute crap and looked like something Pip would chew on. The other one, on 58th is TINY, and I mean tiny, but when D and I walked up, David said “I have hope on this one.” We haven’t had a lot to hope for recently, so I pounced on it. Well, okay, I’m lying.

I got all pounc-ful (no, not a word in the dictionary unless you write it in, but it makes sense) after this snotty woman and her overly jovial mother walked up. I smiled at her, and she sneered “I’m here to look at the house too.”

Really?

Guess who put her application in FIRST, bitch.

But beyond my pissing contest with the woman, and the fact that it’s tiny, the place is adorable. It’s a little 50′s house with small bedrooms, a tiny living room with a WORKING fireplace (more on that holyshitIlovethishouse excitement later), a massive basement (fully carpeted), a sunny kitchen, and a backyard for my creatures. There were tons of birds and squirrels, with grape vines growing up the arbor, and a funky japanese maple in the front yard (good tree, love that tree!). And the garage is as big as the damn house. Oh, and it has an opener too! Groovy stuff. So, we applied yesterday. I am hoping to hear back tomorrow.

Today, I finally called and spoke with my landlady. My first instinct, because I feel like shit, was to give her holy hell. I did make her feel bad, pointing out that we were leaving as soon as possible because she failed to pay her mortgage.

Then she tried to sell me the house.

I politely declined and explained to her that we needed her as a reference. She needed to answer her phone when people called her and stop letting things go into voicemail. She also wanted copies of the notices left on our door. After stalling for a few minutes, stuttering as I took her to task for being such a shithead for putting us in that situation…..

She tried to sell me the fridge.

I politely declined, but told her I was interested in the washer and dryer. We will take that with us, I think.

She didn’t ask about rent, which is due tomorrow, nor about our deposit. I just want the bitch to answer the questions so we can get a new place and be done with this mess.

And now I am off to complete my day. I found a lot of boxes at work, so I will pack the trunk with those and hope that this whole thing goes smoothly. Regardless, we have a lot of packing to do. Send us good vibes. We want that house on 58th. It fits us. It needs us. And I want a happy place to rest my head.

… from an Irish Blessing.

She’s gone now.

I love you Grannie.

• My Grannie will be gone soon.
• My mother is dealing with the death of her mother, a divorce, and uncertain work future and carrying the weight of dealing with an entire family’s load of issues.
• My Budokan class has been canceled – she just didn’t get enough students interested and can’t afford to rent the space anymore.
• I was 45 minutes late to work because the alarm didn’t go off.
• I have to fly tomorrow.
• I’m fat.
• I have a shitload of work to do, and only one day to finish it all.
• I haven’t finished my novel.

A lot of that is pretty negative, but on to happy shiny stuff.

The Good:

• My Grannie won’t be in pain soon.
• My mother has the support of her entire family.
• I bought Budokan DVDs a few weeks ago, and they just arrived.
• My teacher is also a yoga instructor, so I will hook up with her for those classes since I can’t get my live Budokan fix.
• She may get me a gym discount.
• I got to snuggle up to Pip for 30 extra minute this morning. The room was chilly, and his little nose nuzzled in my arm.
• I am flying with my sister tomorrow.
• Our brother will also be joining us in Charlotte.
• While I am much heavier than I’ve ever been, I’ve stuck with Budokan for weeks (it’s a start) and I am going to set up the basement so I can continue my practice.
• My boss told me that I didn’t have to return to work next week when I get back from Charlotte. Instead he said “get your head right for school, and when you come back to work, your head will be in a good place.” We don’t get along sometimes, but he’s not the ogre I thought he was and I get a few days to collect myself, which is awesome. Most of that time will be paid.
• My novel is still in progress. One step at a time.
• My friends have been immensely supportive and kind.
• I have really nice earrings.

My poor Budokan teacher was really sad when she told us (me and one other student) about having to cancel the class. She has other opportunities to teach yoga, and she has to make ends meet, so I completely understand.  But I really enjoyed the time I spent in that studio – with its exposed, water-stained beams, the industrial light fixutures (with low-light halogen bulbs), the exposed brick, the interesting figurines everywhere. I noticed that I was able to focus last night. I found my breath and reveled in my peace and the stillness of the moment. And it could have been because it was my last class, or because I needed that space.

The sadness isn’t gone, but it’s been put in a little cup and placed on a high shelf where I will need a stepladder to reach it. I know it’s there and I know I’m going to have to deal with it, but the sun is shining today. It’s almost warm. I have one day of work to complete and then 2 weeks in which to deal with my Grannie, school, 4 plane rides, packing, and not seeing D. Right now my heart is okay, and I have to be grateful for that.

Have a great Friday, and do me a favor – share how you feel with someone you love, but who may not know it. Don’t let moments pass when you can say something helpful or nice. It’s all happy-hippy karma of me, but just deal with it – damnit!

Cat – thanks for the flowers hon. They definatly helped.

Today’s blessing – meetings all day, all over. First to Vancouver and then to Battle Ground. I’ve got a lot to do, but thought I would post a short update. That update being that there’s really no update. I’m in a holding pattern until today, when more end-of-life people will be met with and doctors will determine the danger in trying a surgery that could save her life, at least for a little while. I think I put it best when I was talking to a coworker – it’s like putting a band-aid on a broken dike. You can’t stop the inevetible.

I slept last night. I didn’t wait for the phone to ring, I didn’t stay on the couch because I was too awake to sleep and watch TV until 4 am. Pip and I curled up together and I think I fell asleep watching Hell’s Kitchen or some bullshit. D finally instructed me to go to bed. And Pip snuck under the covers. He really is a ninja-beagle.

My class last night went well. I’m not as sore as I have been, but I don’t think my head was in my practice yesterday. I felt distracted, by the noise in the rooms next door, or the washing machine in the back of the studio, or the cars, or my grandmother, or school. I couldn’t get my focus working nor my breathing steady. It takes practice, I know. Thursday will be better, I can feel it.

And now, it’s cereal time. I’m starving. Have a good Wednesday.

And things keep rolling. Although Lex and I are making our preperations to head east, I still have school in 2 weeks. I still have plans to make for that, writing to do, editing to work on, and I have to figure out how to ship wine to the hotel for Calie and me.  You can’t take wine on a plane. The terrorists love wine.

I finally bought my bag for school. I  borrowed Amandapant’s suitcases for my last trip to Seton Hill, and had my vintage bags busted open during my first trip. After Amanda was kind enough to let me borrow hers, Pip decided that my toothpaste needded to be freed from the bag, and ripped a hole in the mesh pocket. So I don’t want to borrow her bags again for fear of beagle destruction. Being that I’m still sad, I’m attempting to relieve my depression and feelings of insigificance with retail therapy, kittens. I’m turning into my mother…ugh.

I’ve been a fan of Tom Bihn since about 2004 or so. My first purchase  was a laptop bag, then D and I shelled out a few clams for the Cafe Bags. I’ve had my eye on the Imago for since they developed it, but I’m really happy with my Timbuk2 bag for the day to day stuff. This bag should force me to pack lighter, which is good. For some reason I’m always compelled to bring huge bottles of shampoo and spare towels. If I was staying in the dorm, that would be understandable, but I’m in a hotel room. They have shampoo. They have towels. I should just chill.

I also went on a mini shopping spree at Threadless.com – I blame my mother again. She made me love sales, and threadless was haveing a killer sale, so I bought shirts. And I love this one. Because it’s true. Okay, it’s not true, but it still makes me laugh. And laughter, my friends, is the cure for what ails you. So is alphabet soup, at least, that’s what I hear.

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.

Mom is flying east tomorrow to help the family make the decision. Lex and I will fly out soon. Our family needs us. And while I know when she passes it wil be a blessing for her, and while I know that I’ve been preparing for the possibility for years, it’s just hard. I hate goodbyes.

THWACK!

Finger, dishwasher door propelled at 60 mph, and the counter all collided. And it hurt. But not in the “ouch” kind of way. Nope, it throbbed with the promise of more nausea-inducing pain because most of the pain nerves in the tip of my finger were whirling around going “what the fuck? Did we just get hit? React? Oh yeah, we are supposed to react!” And so began the rising tide of agony. For the record, my finger still hurts.

And Puck, ever the scavenger, just stood there – tail wagging, tongue lolling, waiting for me to drop the chunk of parmasean in my other hand. Dogs….. if they weren’t so cute, I’d scream.

I did my civic duty yesterday. I voted in the Democratic Primary, and contributed my voice to the loacl elections. Happlily, everyone I voted for won. Our new mayor, Sam Adams, royally spanked the competition, and I can say I am pleased.  But I do have an inkling of fear. When Glenda (clit) Hood left the Mayoral spot in Orlando, I voted for Buddy Dyer. I should have known, with those cheeks and that laugh, that he was as crooked as she was. But I voted my heart and my heart was wrong. I hope I’m not wrong about Sam Adams. The press here is quite diligent in digging up dirt, so I I think I made an educated decision.

And I have to say that Oregon has the voting system down pat. No polling places, no lines, no bullshit. Register to vote, they send your ballot in the mail. You can do all your research at home, and then mail the fucker back in. D, of course, sent his off early. I waited until the last minute. Why? Cause that’s how I roll….so I dropped my ballot off at the local libarary. With ballot in hand, I walked in, fearful when I saw the line. But everyone else was in line to pay the fines or check out books. The blue box, with like 15 locks, sat there waiting for me. I dropped it off and went on my merry way. That, my friends, is how voting should happen. My Mom told me that Colorado does the same thing. Good good stuff.

While I could have spend my evening watching the talking heads yammer on about how the voting ran, I took 3 Benadryl, had two beers and passed out on the couch. I got NOTHING done last night. But I slept, and sleeping is good.

Today, I’m heading up to the NW side of town for a little coffee talk with C. And then I will head to Moosey with D for our ritual Wednesday night veggie dinner. The rest of my week goes as follows:

• Thursday – Work, Indy, go home, try to sleep
• Friday – Work, have lunch with the bossy and the rest of the group (his wife had her baby on Sunday), go home, clean the casa, head to Mississippi Station for a portabello sandwich that could make your toes curl (and we will bike there, so I can’t drink too much), and then head home. No Battlestar this week….sigh.
• Saturday – Drop puppies off to be cleaned, pack up the doggies and head to Lex’s house. D’s bringing his bike, and mine, so we can get a little ride in for fun, party.
• Sunday – big BBQ with Lex’s neighbors. Party.
• Monday – head home 1st thing in the morning, trying to beat the traffic back to Portland. Upload all the pictures from the little trip. Sleep

And that about does it folks. I should get back to work.

I get to make salsa this weekend, and I’m using my nephew as slave labor. I get all the benefits without having to feed him more than once a month.

I’m very cheerful today, and I realize yesterday’s blog post was written like poop. I would go edit it but I was very excited. D and I watched American Gangster last night. Made me sad. I didn’t like it at all. I finished it saying to myself  “What in the hell was the point of that?” Oh well.

D and I are planning on seeing Indy this week. Yeah, cause it’s going to kick mucho asso.

And now, back to chipper mornings and coffee.

First, because it’s the most soap-opera-ish of the bunch, the family ties. I’ll keep it brief. My stepmother lives about a half hour away from my sister now. We found this out on Tuesday. While it means nothing to my day to day life. She will never be welcome in my house, it does irk me. I was happy in Florida, if for no other reason, that my stepmother would never be down there. And at the time, I knew my father would also never make a trip to the land of swampwater and misquitoes (and killer sunsets, amazing trees, and the best flowers known to man). I’m hedging a little on the father issue, but that’s for another blog post. Anyway, my stepmother, who seems to have forgotten her transgression against me and my siblings, wants to spark up a new, shiny relationship with my sister. I don’t begrudge Lex that opportunity, but I warned her to be cautious. So did our Mom. For now, it really doesn’t rattle my cage. I’m bothered that she’s just hours from my house, but if she ever showed up, I would slam the door in her face. I’ll never regret moving here. I’m grateful for every sunny day (I saw Mt. Hood on the way to work, skirted in clouds, and it made me very happy), for my friends here, for the relaitonships I’m building and those that I am now closer to. Nothing will ever change that, not even people from my past that I wish would dissappear.

The Blue Moose, my favorite veggie restraunt in Portland, is reopening today! wh00t! SOUP! I’m into comfort food, and D and I love the place because it’s homey and welcoming. And they always have good food. But with the fire they had back in March, they’ve been closed all this time. So, when I was sick – no Moosey. When I was sad – no Moosey. Today I am tired, but I still get Moosey. Yay!

I am still playing ketchup with the writing thing. I have a HUGE deadline – like the end one for the fucking semester, next week and I want to get everything finished ON time, with some kind of skill. I turned back in my project approval chapters. If they aren’t approved, then….I think I held back a term. Which would offically blow, but what are you going to do? So, if you want to talk to me in the next 2 weeks, send a messenger pigeon. Although, D has been BEGGING me to see Ironman, and C&B want to see it as well. I got voted off the “that’s a cheesy movie” island. So, we will see it this weekend.

I still think  it’s going to be crap. But D’s just waiting for me to eat my words.

I was going to talk about my period, and the size of pads now, but I think I should actually get to work. I’ll rant about the forehead-sized pads laster.

Mmm…coffee.

I’m writing this as I cook peppers and onions. D starts with Nike tomorrow! HURRAY!

That’s not to say it was a failure. We cooked 3 different proteins to satisfy the 3 different types of eaters. D and I obviously had tofurkey. Mom made a turkey and a roast. Then there were smashed taters and all the other side stuff. Although this kitchen is much larger, I still found myself dancing around hot pots and beagles. And because I woke up later than I intended, we started cooking much later than we should have. Lex and I took a quick trip to the grocery store, and returned with those last minute items that we forgot in our initial shopping spree. Lex brought the family silver, and extra dishes. Amandapants’ casseroles were a hit. All day, the TV blared with football coverage, and D and I occasionally hid in the room.  C&B came later with home made pumpkin pie and banana bread. The pie was divine. I heard the bread was good, although my nephews and huzzie ate it for breakfast the following day, so I never got to try it. With dinner done, the booze began to flow, as it always does with my family.

Littlebro became a very drunk pirate, we all talked about family and goofy shit, and Lex and I ended up going to bed somewhere around 5:30 in the morning. Surprisingly, I felt fine the next day. I drank a lot of water. It’s a good thing. And hanging out with the fam for the rest of the weekend made me really happy, although my Mom was in a funk the entire time. She’s weeks into quitting smoking, and I think that those of us in the family that still smoke make it harder on her.  She promised to spend some time with me, but ended up getting frustrated and wanted to head back to Tacoma earlier. Even in Tacoma, she seemed distant. I am very well aware of the load on her plate — my grandmother’s continually failing health, and imminent divorce, issues with money, etc. I always think that I can make her relax and enjoy her time at our house, but she never seemed to get a chance to let her hair down. That, and she re-injured her knee just standing up, so she was in pain for most of her trip.

Saying goodbye didn’t really hit me until I got home from Tacoma. Then I sat in the house, it was quiet, and I wanted to cry. I can attribute this to little sleep, a lot of alcohol consumption, and no moving my tushie. It’s going to take time for me to right myself, but for now, it kind of sucks. I always want more time, more laughter, more… peace. But there’s something that always gets in the way. Real life doesn’t stop or stand still for those moments when I need time to connect….and now I realize I’m just rambling.

I’m overwhelmed with school stuff, and the pressing financial issues that are coming to a head now. Because D and I haven’t worked since we moved, we are almost out of money. That means no more trips to here and there, no more booze, pinching every penny because finding a job here is harder than I first anticipated.  I am hoping some of my attempts pan out soon, but if they don’t… well I don’t want to think about that.

It’s feeling like winter right now. The weather people are talking about snow and ice outside of Portland proper. I bought a scarf and gloves. This is true fall/winter weather, and I am loving it, when I leave the house. I even keep my hair down most of the time…it’s still strange having a full head of hair.

Amandapants’ cats are downstairs right now. She’s gone again, so I get to be kitty-aunt. They have a lot of room to lay about, but they are sticking to the little chair/tent I constructed so they have some place to hide. My goal is to keep them calm, to keep Baxter distracted so he doesn’t piss on anything, and to make this time away from their house as comfy as possible. They aren’t up to playing or coming out for treats, but I’m working on that. It isn’t helping that my cats keep sitting right by the door. They know someone is down there.

Tonight, the plan is to medicate myself to sleep, get up at a good hour (see: before 11), run, and get all of my school work finished. I’ll be scarce for the next couple of days. Solitude and rebalancing take time. So, have a happy week.

and I promise the next post will be full of cheer….

Hope you had a good deadturkeyday..

Lex, due to come to help me with the sewing machine again on Saturday, slept till 4 on , when she finally woke up, she threw (and I giggle at that image) the kids in the pimpmobile, and hauled ass down here. Meanwhile, Amandapants finished laundry. But on Saturday I think we finally solidified the menu for Thanksgiving. Lex and Amanda are working around the menu with me. This whole thing is  big deal to me. I live to entertain. Besides, D and I went to his familys’ house every year, and then we hung out with friends. This time around,  we are in a new city without that circle we used to have. It feels good to have the family here. My only concern is that my brother in law is allerigc to cats. I’m going to be vaccuuming the shit out of my house.

I printed out my novel (I’m working on it) and Amanda was here.

“Is that it?”

“What?”

“Your novel?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just got goosebumps”

It’s hard to think about everything I need to do to this thing, but I’m still working on it.

Lex decided against going to Colorado for Xxxxmas. What does that mean? We are heading up to Tacoma (with Amanda in tow) to do the HappyJesusDay with them. Hopefully my family will come, at least my Mom. She’s hoping papasan will show up, but I doubt he will if he knows I’m going to be there. Then again, he may surprise me, because he loves his grandson more than almost anyone. I’m not sweating it though. I’ll be happy to be near the fam again.

D and I may have some great news in the coming weeks. Cross your fingers and your toes for us.

My nephews played Ratchet and Clank on my PS3. I have an egg timer. They can only play for an hour, but let me tell you, they had a good-ass time with that hour.

It  stopped raining. After I make dinner, I think I am due for a good run.

Now, It’s time to make salsa!

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