Sackin's Place

2006-09-30T14:10:00.000-07:00

And then in April we were able to have my newphew Rymer stay with us for the summer. He went back to live with my sister Gwen in New Mexico in September.

Teenage Riot

2006-03-08T19:23:00.000-08:00

That's my cousin, Rachel B. American Teen.

“Spirit desire
We will fall
Spirit desire
We will fall
Spirit desire
We will fall”
- SONIC YOUTH- Teenage Riot

is how the lyrics go.
I am reminded of my teenage years.
They were not the best years of my life.
It was more like
“Sleep. Desire.
Sleep. Desire.
Real, real bored.”

I was asleep to so much. It was the only way I could cope.
Yet I desired so much. All the time longing. For what?
Well of course for The Most Desirable Man in the World.
Desiring a way out of pain. A way to understand. A way to get out of that world.
A way to stay safe in that same world. It was all so hopeless.
And really, really boring. God, life was long.

As the lyrics to “Screenwriter’s Blues” wash over me, I am also brought back to my years in Southern California. Los Angeles County.

“Exits to freeways

Twisted like knots on

The fingers

Jewels cleaving

Skin between

Breasts.”

Exists to freeways everywhere, and me without a car. Without money.
Without a friend I could tell any of this to.
Hardly jewels- they were not a part of my life although it seemed to me to be around the necks of everyone in the Hollywood world I had glimpses of from time to time.
I hated my breasts. I hated my sexuality, but I was always awash in my passion. Desire.

“Los Angeles beckons

The teenagers

To come to her

On buses”

Oh and I did. One magic day that changed everything. The day I found love, my first, my worst.

“Los Angeles loves Love.

You are listening.

You are listening.

You are listening.”

Sometimes it all comes back.

Rose Garden Portland Oregon Dec 19

2005-12-20T15:45:00.000-08:00

It's not why you're running
It's where you're going
It's not what you're dreaming
But what you're gonna do
It's not where you're born
It's where you belong
It's not how weak
But what will make you strong
-“Summer Rain” U2

After waiting almost a year, Jamie and I went to see my the greatest band in the wold blow Portland away at the Rose Garden.

It’s a HUUGGEE stadium and it’s almost totally vertical. The seats are narrow and close together and you can’t even get the relief of standing up because you feel like you’re going to fall over. Of course, those were just OUR seats, the cheapest ones in the house, at $60. I’m sure the $150 were better. Marginally. We got there a little early and as I was sitting there I started to get a little claustrophobic since it was a sold out concert and I was surrounded. Also, I’m a little nervous about heights. Just sitting there was giving me vertigo.

By the end of the night, it was obvious to me that it was all worth it.

Kanye West opened for U2- that was a surprise. I like almost every song on his “College Drop out” CD, and I love his latest single “Gold Digger.” He’s been on the MTV video awards, BET awards and Saturday Night Live. Yet, most of those kids where I was sitting didn’t have a clue who he was. Maybe because they were from the same church group, or something. But whatever, I had a good time. Kanye tried to get his sound to fill the stadium, and for the most part he did. He got some people clapping along with him but my God, the man cannot dance. I mean it. It was funny- after all he’s a rapper and of you don’t have a sense of rhythm then you wont find the beat to get your jams out, right?

But he was just ... spazzing and flailing about. I was like What the hell, dude?

But Bono can dance, and he did. They opened with “City of Blinding Lights” and played for over two hours. They did 2 encores and closed with “40". In fact, that closing was one of my favorite parts of the show. At the end of their concerts, U2 typically does this thing where Bono gets the audience to sing the refrain from 40" “How long? How long to their song?”

(Which is funny really- because we always end up sing this same, THEIR song, well after they left the stage. And that’s a long time. I didn’t get the irony until just now, and I’ve been going to U2 concerts since I was 16).

So we sing the refrain back to the band as Bono walks off, then Adam, then Edge. Larry Mullen jr is the last one on the stage- he’s keeping that beat going for us and then he slows down a bit- softer and softer while we sing and then he waves and he’s out of there. But this show, we’re really singing it to him- It’s like every voice is raised and it’s echoing everywhere. Larry is slowing down those drum beats, like he always does ,going softer and softer. This time, he stopped. He took off his headset and sat listening to us still going strong. Then he did something I’ve never seen him do. He smiled, took up his drum sticks and gave us a full blown drum solo. Just beat the shit out of that thing. The crowd went wild- let out this huge roar of approval. It was awesome.

Other highlights were Bullet the Blue Sky. Naturally they kicked ass on their hit “Vertigo”. This was their last gig on a colossal round the world tour which lasted a year. Yet they gave it all, as if they were playing for a smaller venue, as if it was te first day of the tour. U2 is known for this, and they do deliver.

I am amazed each time, and every performance is better than their last. I try to see them every time they come out, but as was the case with their last tour, the tickets sold out too quickly. If they play Portland again, and it sells out, I’m going anyway- there were plenty of tickets sold outside. One guy paid $75 for the $60 ticket just two hors before the show, which I don’t think is a terrible mark up. Later, I heard a woman telling someone that about an hour into the show (before U2 even came on stage) they sold her a ticket for $45!

It was a great night. If I had the resources, I would totally be a U2 groupie and follow their shows all around the world.

We Left Thanksgiving Evening for the Funeral

2005-11-28T00:00:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of my sister Amber and I in the snow at a rest stop somewhere in Idaho.

On Thanksgiving, the dwindling members of Landon family headed east towards Montana to have a memorial in honor of Don Landon, my father’s younger brother. Uncle Jim and Aunt Debbie taking the Amtrack. My married sister Crystal, her husband and their three year old son drove their Toyota, and Mom the matriarch, my two youngest sisters, and ME all piled into the 7 year old Pontiac grand prix. I had never been to Montana, not being into cold weather or cowboys. My youngest sisters don’t really get along in the best of situations, so I was leery about what the 14 hours in a car would do. And mom is comfortable with Chaos. However, it ended up being a peaceful drive, everyone getting along; the weather was beautiful and the scenery breath taking. It was like a fun roadtrip, except for the fact we were driving to a funeral.

We all stayed in the Motel 6, where rooms where only $36 a night. Our family took up four rooms total, and we were all on the bottom floor. Oftentimes we had the doors open since everyone was wandering in and out of each others rooms, and the rooms themselves got too smokey as they had no opening windows or good ventilation. The situation reminded me of the dorms back in college.

We had the proper funeral at my uncle’s beloved Church of Christ. Mom, Aunt Debbie and I stood up to say a few words, but we where the only ones. The church people were very nice- put on a pot luck for us, and let us decorate the altar for Uncle Don.

The best part was when we cast a circle under that vast Montana night. We had not lit a fire because it was too damp. It had snowed but the snow was so light… more crystals than the mush we have in Oregon. The sky was clear, and the moon shone on the lake as we stood on its bank, spreading the ashes of my uncle. I was surprised at how warm I was. That shot of B n B we all toasted Uncle Don with really hit the spot. As we all clasped hands, I looked into that sky and blinked back tears. The night felt like a gift from the deceased, one last hug. It wasn’t a Hollywood moment though. As the Christians were praying with bowed heads around me, and I contemplated the heavens above, my three-year-old nephew began to cry and tug at the adult hands clasped in the circle. "Hey he wants in, someone give him your hand!" My sister yelled through the prayer. It was very real. It was simply family.

It was so hard to accept that I wouldn’t speak to him again, or see him. Or even hear news of him. It’s been three funerals in three years for that part of my family. Before I became more familiar with death, I realized that I used to see it in a more gothic, almost romantic slant. Songs of invisible caresses, horror movies of ghost whisperings, books where the scent of the deceased’s favorite cologne lingers- these are cliches of death, and I thought, like most cliches they had some truth to them.

This is not so. Death is much more boring and empty. There is nothing. No whisper in a quiet room. No dancing lights. No fragrance, or invisible hand on your shoulder. It is a void, as if the person never existed in the first place. It seems simple to say, but death is simple: the person you loved is gone and you, as long as you live on this planet, will never see, smell, hear or speak to them again.

Yet three days after the funeral, when I was home, snug in my own bed sleeping, I had a dream. I don’t remember exactly what I was dreaming, only that a lot of stuff was going on. In the middle of whatever colorful and chaotic situation I was dreaming of, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was a tall and good-looking young man of about thirty. I stopped what I was doing and turned to him. When he grinned at me I saw it as my Uncle Don! He said: "Sorry to interrupt but I gotta go and I just wanted to say good by". He gave me a hug and left. Because it was dream I was surprised but not amazed. I just went back whatever I was doing in dreamland.

When I woke up, I wondered at the dream. Naturally people would say that was just wish fulfillment because I never got to say goodby to my uncle, since his death was so sudden. But I don’t know. I never have dreams where things happen because I’d LIKE them to. It felt real.

I believe there is an afterlife. I’d like to believe that somehow my uncle crossed to void that is death, at least in dreams, to see me one last time.

R.I.P. Donald Ray Landon

2005-11-23T11:50:00.000-08:00

Uncle Don at my wedding.
He was my Dad's younger brother. They were all so close. Now there are only two left- my Uncle Jim (the eldest) and my Aunt Debbie (the youngest). They always had Don as the buffer, and Dad as the peacemaker.
They found my uncle on his kitchen floor last Friday morning. He lived alone, but had a neighboor friend, prob'ly another vet like him, who looked in on him from time to time. His girlfriend had dinner with him that very night. Somehow that comforts me because he's always been a loner, and it sounds like he wasnt lying there for days. He had friends.
We are going to Montana, four to a car, leaving right after Thankgsgiving dinner. It's a 14 hour drive, maybe longer depending on the weather.
I dont want to go. We are not having a viewing, there will be no funeral, and we might not be able to join in the spreading of the ashes if his stepsons do not wish us there. And they may not. All that depends on how my Aunt and Uncle act. The will be terrible in their grief, and will tear into each other and anyone else because thats just how they are. God.
Do they realise yet that all they have is each other? Everyone else in the family- well, they can hardly stand them. However, they are my family- the last two Landons in fact, so I am going there for them. It may be the last time we are all together. When my cousin Danielle killed herself, my uncle Don came out here for that. It was the last time I saw or spoke to him.

Four Years Ago

2005-09-22T21:23:00.000-07:00

Four years ago today, I put on a long sleeve silk dress, and my boyfriend put on a wool tux and kilt, on the hottest September day in living memory...

Today is Alan and my 4th wedding anniversary. People are so congratulatory and saying things like “I can’t believe it’s been 4 years!” But it feels so natural. I can’t imagine living with anyone else. We both had to work tonight, but he brought Thai food to the office and we ate the feast at my desk. We are celebrating our anniversary tomorrow by going to see Madness play at the Crystal Ballroom. This will be my 4th time seeing a band play there. It’s a fun place for concerts. When it first opened up we saw The String Cheese Incident for like, five bucks. Alan took me to see They Might Be Giants another time, and Jesse and I saw Interpol play an AWESOME show there when their first CD came out.

In other news, I have a free one-month member ship to an all women’s gym. I’ve gone everyday this week. My game plan for tomorrow is to go to the gym, then hit the Jacuzzi before the concert. Life is good indeed!

Internet Love

2005-09-16T13:25:00.000-07:00

She wants to feel understood. She wants to feel needed. She wants someone to want her. She wants some compassion. She wants someone to lift her up into strong arms. She wants to feel beautiful and precious. Somebody please tell her that she is beautiful and special and that her eyes are limpid pools of fire.
You want that too?
Then please... go here.... http://vanallens.com/404.html/
He’ll tell you that the page isn’t there, that he doesn’t have what you’re looking for. But just wait. Keep reading. There you will find the Love. Just when you weren’t expecting it. Just when you were searching for something else, expecting something else, there it is in the most unlikely place.
There’s a lesson in everything, even http://vanallens.com/404.html/

20 Things

2005-09-15T19:18:00.000-07:00

Taken from Gwen @ http://glass-arcade.hinky.com/ and Dave@ http://discodave.diaryland.com/

Twenty Things About Me

1. I have always loved the romantic, gothic look, even as a very young child. When I was five, I cried because all of the princesses costumes for Halloween had blond hair and pink dresses. I wanted to look like the heroines in the Vincent Price movies. Princess should have long black hair and dark jewel colored gowns! I couldn’t figure it out.

2. I think everyone in my family is mentally ill and that includes me. I have to fight depression and obsession the way most women fight to keep a trim waist. Perhaps that’s why I‘ve never been too strict with my diet. Too busy dealing with my head, I guess.

3. I have always known I was heterosexual. I kissed boys and had crushes on (male) cartoons and movie stars since I was small. I didn’t have a “type” until I was a lot older. The guys I had crushes on in childhood all looked totally different. They were: short, stocky, tall, lanky, black haired, blond, serious, and goofy.

4. I love food from all over the world. All kinds of cooking appeal to me. Of course, I haven't had food from every culture. Yet, sadly, I cannot like onions.

5. Obviously, I analyze everything.

6. When watching a movie, or show, I get pretty involved. When I get upset, my husband tells me: “It’s only a movie, hon.” But I’m like: “NO. It could happen. In fact, it probably already has in some time, in some way during the course of human history!”

7. I’m very open sexually, love talking about it, love doing it (of course) but am pathologically modest. Always have been, even as child.

8. If you’re stupid, I won’t like you, but I’ll make you think that I do. I'll even let you think you're smart because you can spell and never have typos.

9. For someone with a fanciful imagination, I am blessed with a common sense so deep it looks cold to some.

10. It is only recently that I learned to be a “good sport” about losing. As it is, my face still burns when I lose, thus giving me away.

11. I hate arguing for arguments sake. Really, I just want everyone to get along. Unless it’s an intellectual debate, because that’s different.

12. I love cake but HATE whipped cream frosting. It tastes so chemical. Gimme buttercream and lots of it!

13. When in a squabble and all you can say is: “Fuck You” or “Whatever!” I know then that I’ve “won” the argument. I will think you are stupid and have totally lost any credibility. However, I was amused when my sister Amber was quarreling with my other sister Katie. Katie said something shitty and Amber fired back: “Fuck you!” Katie taunted: “Is that all you have to say?” Amber answered coolly: “That’s all I need to say. I think that covers it.”

14. My relationships with other people are the most important things to me in my life. (Perhaps I only say that because I am in good health, though, heh.)

15. I hate pain and will do anything to avoid it. That may sound like a no brainer- but there are a lot of “No Pain -No Gain” types out there.

16. There are only a handful of people whom I have met who listen and relate to music like I do. This is not to say I can play music or even have great taste in it.

17. I have an unusually powerful sense of smell. Rarely does that do me any good at all. Luckily, I am not grossed out by as many odors as most people are.

18. I have always loved making mixed tapes for people. (Now mixed CD, of course.) It has bitten me in the ass a few times, though, because a couple of times, men have read something into it.

19. I love God, believe in miracles, in the goodness of God, in the afterlife, and absolutely am at war with almost all forms of religion. To me, religion is Anti- God. Yes, that probably includes YOURS.

20. However, most people who don’t know me well don’t know that about me. It’s a secret war, you see, because I am a Spy in the House of the Lord.

"Cripple"

2005-09-14T23:41:00.000-07:00

The year was 1987. I was getting ice cream with my 7 year old cousin Carolynn and my grandfather. It was crowded in Baskin Robbins that day, and while I stood in line, I leaned over the freezer cases, trying to figure out what flavor I wanted. Papa always got vanilla (with 31 flavors! But that’s what he wanted) and Carolynn, she wanted some kid flavored thing, maybe it was bubble gum. As I was trying to decide whether I wanted the flavor of the month or my old standby- chocolate and peanut butter, I felt my cousin slide up to me and take my hand. Irritated, I shook her off. At 16, with 4 little sisters of my own, I was not charmed by children. She whined. "What?" I asked.

"What’s wrong with that lady? Why is she like that?" she whispered. It was one of those kid whispers, which means everyone can hear it. I looked around and saw a woman in a wheel chair. She was greasy haired, obese- there were tubes running in and out but I looked away too quickly to register what they were for. "I don’t know. God!" I replied. Carolynn just stared. "Why is she hooked up like that?" she persisted. I was flippant: "Why don’t you ask her? Better yet, tell me what flavor you want again. We’re almost up."

"Hey kid!" the woman shouted at her from across the store. "Don’t you have any manners?" Carolynn shrank against me. " She’s just a kid!" I yelled back. I saw that my cousin was about to cry (although it didn’t take much, she was that kind of child) so I told her: "It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with her, ‘cause they’re all the same. Better learn that now. Cripples are bitter. They get pissed off if you ignore them, and they get pissed off if you don’t."

Like I said, the ice cream shop was crowded so everyone heard. People muttered against me. But I was so hard hearted I didn’t even storm off. I stood in line and got our damn ice cream. I’m not proud of that. It was callous and rude and reactionary. Poor fat woman with the tubes. You don’t call people "cripple".

When we came out, Carolynn was still sniffling into her ice cream cone. Nana was waiting in the car. "Why is she crying?" she immediately demanded. "What did you do to her this time?" I just shrugged and gave the typical teen answer: "Nothing. God!" Nana looked at Papa for an explanation. Our papa was a quiet man; he lived with a dangerous woman and knew the virtue of silence. However, this time he spoke up. In his deep voiced, quiet Mississippi drawl, he said: "Ain’t done nothing. Chil’ was just scared ‘cause there was a cripple in the sto’.
Which totally cracked me up and when I laughed, Carolynn laughed too. Two able-bodied, spoiled children laughing outside with our ice cream cones.

I don't know what made me remember that. It's so random. And so bad!

me n carolynn now

Part 286: Last month of being 34, early 21st cent., North American, female, Caucasian.

2005-09-12T15:45:00.000-07:00

God, I’m glad I don’t have to work today. It’s that time of the month, and my husband is being a bathroom hog. He’s only trying to get ready for work, which I’m Not. I know he’s irritated that I had to chase him out all morning, but I’m not feeling well. You know it’s some serious cramps when your body is contracting so badly it squeezes on your lower intestine. I try to hold it until he’s finished, but it makes the cramps so much worse. I wish we could afford a house with two bathrooms.

For that to happen I need to get a job.

I supposed to anyway. I’ve been putting it off because I need to redo my work history. It’s such a pitiful thing, my resume. It’s startling to write down your life’s facts and to see in black and white how pitiful they are. I cringle thinking of handing it over for someone else to see. Would it seem as pitiful and empty to them as it does to me? And yet, I don’t feel that way about my life at all! I’m looking over my resume and seeing that one part of my life is ending and I’m going to have to start a new chapter. I’m having a hard time being positive about it.

So instead of doing all that, I’m in my backyard, trying to ease these cramps. It’s beautiful out here, just perfect. Of course, I can look around and see that the yard needs all kinds of attention, that the floor needs to be swept, the hanging plants taken care of, things need to be picked up. Believe me, that’s not going to happen today. Even if (when! Be positive!) the "discomfort" subsides, I’ve got lot of things on my list to do.

Next month, to the day, I turn 35. Last week, I was cleaning out my desk, with all of its papers, keepsakes, letters, this n’ that. Alan was looking through a pile of things I had shoved in my desk over the years. One was a giant button that someone from work gave me when I turned 30. I had to work on my birthday, but my co workers threw me a little "over the hill’ party ( amusingly, they were all order than I!). It’s black and reads: "30 ROCKS!!" So corny. For some reason, I kept it. Alan picks it up and says: "Hey, you have a birthday coming up. You should wear this- you could get away with it!" Or something sweet like that. I think I will wear it!
I had lots of plans for myself when I turned 30. I had thought my life would have followed the American Dream Format it was supposed to. Either that, or I was going to live a totally bohemian adventurous life on foreign soil somewhere. Heh, neither of which has happened. In fact, nothing really did happen, although THANK GOD Alan married me. But... where did those 5 years go? Didn’t I do any growing at all? I mean besides my considerable bulk. What the hell? And what will the next five years bring? Will it go as fast?

Found some old albums last night. Right now Eric Burdon and the Animals are singing about "Good Times". It’s strangely appropriate to this entry, I think:

"My useless talking
I could have been walking
Instead of complaining
I could have been gaining
Useless talking
All of my walking
All of my sinning
I could have been winning
When I think of all the good times
that's been wasted having good times...
When I think of all the good times that's been wasted..."

A Week In California, Part Two

2005-08-11T17:51:00.000-07:00

Some Photos From The Trip:

Me, M. and Rymer

At Embassy Suites Pool

Me and G.

Me and Mom, last day

The next day was M.’s wedding. I haven’t seen her in a years so when the family peeked in to see her in that tiny church room, she was in her wedding finery, make up and hair just so. She was such an old fashioned beauty, a far cry from that skinny frizzy haired little ragamuffin she was long ago- well, I almost cried right there before the wedding even started.

It went off pretty well. There were the usual glitches (badly behaved children- but not my handsome nephews, they were Golden- the reverend was an ass, the atar decorations caught on fire) but all in all it was the prefect Wedding Story kind of wedding. Best of all- no meltdowns or arguments- which is saying a lot for our family. Everyone acted as lovely as we all looked. Oh, sure, there was a little Nana drama. At the ceremony, when the Reverend asked the wedding guests who had been married the longest, up shot Nana’s hand. Sitting like the Queen of England in her hat and gloves, she boldly lied: "I’ve been married 54 years!" At that point, my mom turned around, her eyes and face perfects O’s of surprise. Gwen stoically faced front, which was a good thing because if she and I got to laughing M. would have killed us. I was about to bust a gut trying to hold back. I poked Alan and snicked: "At the most, she was married 25 years, even counting up all 3 of her marriages!" Alan’s eyes got wide but since the wedding video camera was on him (we were behind Nana) he kept a poker face. I tried to catch my cousins eyes but they were holding the church programs in front of their faces, hiding. As we were leaving the church, I hissed to Nana: "And in the house of the Lord, too!" She knew what I was referring to. She just tossed her head and said: "Curtain going up!"

The reception was long, but I didn’t mind at all. Since it was held at the Embassy Suites were we all were staying, we could slip in and out. My sister G. and Herold made it the best reception I’d even gone to in fact. I almost felt like I was clubbing because I had a continuous buzz on. I know the Bride did. It really was like an all night party. Even after the DJ packed it up at midnight, people went out to swim in the pool. It was that hot and muggy, even so late.

The next morning we all had breakfast together. Me and G. has plans for a rare day together so Alan hung back with my Mom and nephews. He even went to my sisters’ new in-laws house to take pictures of them opening their wedding gifts. G. and I went to Tijuana for cheep booze and smokes. It was tripy and fun and tiring all at once. I don’t think I’d waste my time going to T.J. again to save $15 on a carton of cigarettes. Not unless I was already in San Diego but it was fun hanging out with my sister.

By Monday the wedding festivities were over and Mom, G and R were up on their mountain, not to be seen for another year at least. (Unless an Act of God brings them here). Alan and I drove to Orange County to spend the remaining days of our vacation with Nana. We reserved a hotel room not a mile from were she lives. Well, that’s when she had to act up. Apparently she didn’t get enough attention at the wedding and was pissed about it. I called her when we were in the area to make plans with her.

I should have known by the way she answered the phone. At first I didn’t think she could hear me, since I was calling her on my cell.
I was all: "Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me?"
She paused, then answered coldly: "Yes. I can hear you."
"Ok, listen. We got a room just down the street from your apartment so after we check in..."
"You can just keep on driving. Don’t bother."
"Huh?"
" I said you can check in and just keep on driving. Don’t stop by here. Just forget you’ve go this number!" and she hung up.

Well. This was puzzling and hurtful but also familiar. You get this kind of thing periodically when dealing with Borderline Personality Disorder. You don’t always know why, or what triggers it, and you can drive yourself crazy trying to figure it out. If it were anyone else, I could call back right away and demand to know what crawled up their ass, but with people affected with BDP, it just prolongs the crazy dance. I did, for the record, call her two more times, leaving messages. Of course she claimed she never got them when recounting the story to my other relatives. They all know how she is, so it’s not like everyone thinks I’m the asshole. I also refused to let it ruin my vacation.

My Aunt, Uncle and cousin took us to Mrs. Knotts Chicken House, one of my favorite places to eat. We all sat around and rehashed the wedding, cracking up over Nana’s "54 years". My aunt totally sympathized with me on Nana refusing to see me (and received her mother wrath because of it.) Later my cousin and I went to an awesome dive bar where we met up with my sister M., since she wasn’t going on her honeymoon for a few weeks. It was strange that M didn’t really want to talk about the wedding but since it was rare that M, my cousin C and I ever got together all at once, we talked a lot about family. I even got to have one last dinner with my mom before we left and had a good time. My California family really is too estranged from one another. It’s so different from how things are up here in Oregon, and it makes me very sad.

In fact, I have to say, I left California with a feeling of sorrow. It wasn’t because of Nana ( I knew we’d make up) but something else. I almost didn’t want to leave. Things felt unfinished. I was totally ready for the temperate Oregon weather as I had been swollen like a sausage that entire week but I just didn’t want to leave. Things disturbed me. The people I loved were not happy, despite the frivolity of the wedding festivities. It about broke my heart to see how Mom was treated M’s in-laws. Without going too much into something that isn’t my business to get into online, the situation with Mom and G is terrible and ruining for them both. G. isn’t happy. Nana is just crazy. M. is so distant I have no idea have she even really feels about this wedding. I just wanted another week to talk to everyone, spend some time with them. I almost felt that if I had more time to spend there, I could just sort everything and everyone out, make everyone loving and understanding towards each other. That’s a laugh. I suspect that most of what’s broken has been so for longer than I’ve been on this planet. And even if I could "straighten" things out, there’s no one that really wants me to. I would just be perceived as arrogant. Knowing this, and aching for them all, I got on the plane back to Oregon with my husband, and back to our own brand of problems.

A Week in California, Part One

2005-08-11T16:14:00.000-07:00

Me at the hotel, Huntington Beach. Yeah, that's me in the the AM with no makeup.

It’s been quite the summer of floating around the pool. I’m thinking of doing this afternoon in fact. I’d better take advantage of these "carefree summer days" because pretty soon the fine weather will be gone, and I’ll be working more. It’s nice that I’m getting more hours at EV. But the drama and cattiness there…lord. However, that’s anywhere you work, I guess. My husband says: "Move on!" but I say: "Better the devil you know…"

Speaking of Drama, my California trip was NOT chock full of it. Alan went with me and he seemed to enjoy himself, except for that first day. We flew in Thursday, leaving PDX for LAX just as the sun rose. By 6 am it was already hot in Portland of all places- I heard it got to 105 degrees that day. The flight sucked because it was crowded. When we got to the car check in we had to pay more than my reservation because I had out in the wrong YEAR. We had to pay almost double then. I was upset about that. I didn’t put in any year, assuming it would default to THIS one. Seems a little fishy to me. The clerk put us in some weird-ass Dodge. It was part gangster mobile, part station wagon, all gas hog. It had to cruse control right next to the turn signal, which sucked. It also turned the heat ON when turning on the A/C. Seriously, heat- not just the regular hotness that happens when you first turn on the a/c, but hot devil breath.

Once we got the Demon Mobile, I drove to Huntington Beach. We were able to check in early thanks to the kindness of the concierge. Alan kept calling him "Marcel"- (incorrectly) referring to Lorelei’s inn partner Michael (pronounced Michelle) on the Gilmore Girls.
"Dude, you mean Michael. Marcel is the monkey on Friends." I told him. Do we watch too much TV, or what?
After lunch and strolling Surf City’s main street, Alan came down with one of his headaches. Since he could handle neither light nor noise, I spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening by myself. I was cool with this. I walked down to the beach, swam in the ocean, then drove around soaking up the Californianess that is Beach Boulevard. I especially loved walking the beach at night- it was warm with no wind. You simply cannot have that experience on the Oregon coast. God, I do miss those beaches.

On Friday we checked out, did a little shopping, ate some Thai and headed up to West Covina where my sister M’s wedding was going to be the next day. There we were, on a Friday evening, stuck on the freeway for… I dunno… years. Seriously, it took us 40 minutes to travel 3 miles. I would have gotten off and taken side streets but I am unfamiliar with the area. It’s that kind of shit that I DO NOT miss about California. As we were sitting in traffic, an "ol skool" LLCoolJ song came on. As they chanted " I’m going back to Cali, to Cali, to Cali" I sat there in the shimmering heat, looking at the cars all piled up and echoed LL: "Hmph, I don’t think so."

We finally arrived at the Embassy Suites, at the same time as my mom, sister G and my nephew R. I was sooo happy to see them. It had been a year since we last met I haven’t seen them in a year, which is far too long. We all unpacked, cooled off and headed to the bar for free drinks. Later we had dinner. G. and I got to hang out that night, relaxing, smoking, swimiming and getting geared up for the big wedding the next day.
(to Be Continued)

The Night Before California

2005-08-03T23:42:00.000-07:00

(This picture from http://www.freebeautytips.org/insomnia.html)
I usually go to bed at 2am. I'm leaving for the airport at 3am. It’s an hour to PDX from here and my flight leaves at 6am.

I got up early today (8:30) to try to make myself tired, and made a point to keep myself busy all day. No naps, just cigarette breaks. I figured around 9pm or so, I’ll hit a lull in my energy and go to bed. I found myself busy until 10pm. I noticed I wasn’t remotely sleepy because I am so FUCKing hot. It’s about 80 in my house right now. Not kidding. Oh, sure, I have all the windows open and our (two) working fans going. But it is 75 outside right now. Yeah. In Oregon, in the middle of the night.

Normally I wouldn’t bitch too badly since I know it’s summer, August already. That’s what summer does... it gets hot. I did point the fan full blast at me and tried to sleep. It just wouldn’t happen. You know how it is: the more you stress about getting up early, the harder it is to fall asleep. It’s just that I haven’t pulled an all nighter in a long, long time. What? I could sleep in the plane, you might suggest? I WISH.

I’m just too overheated and excited to sleep so I feel grouchy. I wish it was time to go right now. But no. It’s nearly, merely midnight. I shouldn’t worry though. 3am will get here soon enough, just about the time I’m getting tired, and am ready to sleep.

Then there’s the ride to the airport (maybe I can get a nap then?). Then Check In, and wait around for an hour or so. Then the flight. Then the car rental. Then driving (me!) from LA to Huntington Beach. The hotel Check In isn’t until 3pm so I have to find away to stay awake until then. Lemme tell you, once I get to my room, I’m drawing the blinds, cranking up the A/C (oh, blessed air conditioning) and hitting the hay.

Yay! That’s just 15 hours from now.

Wedding Dreams

2005-07-30T12:17:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of my mom and Aunt Kathy on my aunt’s wedding day, long, long ago in a land called 70's where everybody was young and thin and pretty.

One week from today, my sister M’lisa gets married!! She’s been with her fiancé for 5 years, and living with him at least 3. I think. It might even longer than that. Anyway, she knows what she’s getting into.

I dreamt about the wedding last night. It was in St, James Church, in Norwalk. In the dream, it was a big ol’ Mexican wedding. Remember, I grew up in southern California, where Mexican culture had a big impact on me. When I was growing up, nothing could be grander than a Mexican wedding. The biggest puffiest wedding dresses, the live band, hundreds of guests, the food, the towering, highly decorated wedding cakes, and the cars all adorned with tissue roses. I had forgotten all about the Kleenex roses until I dreamt of them last night.

M’lisa’s wedding had all that (in the dream, in real life it will be very different). I don’t remember a whole lot about the dream, except my dad was there, and his friends. In the logic of dreams, I was like: "Hey dad, how’s it going? Let’s take a picture together." It didn’t even faze me he was there. I was just glad to see him.

M’lisa was rushed and excited which I’m sure she truly will be next Saturday as well. Her bridesmaids (especially the one with all the makeup) were total bitches to me. Whenever I would approach M’lisa, they were all : "BEAT IT!" They treated all of M’lisa’s family (namely me, G. and Mom) like we were complete animals. We were "put up with" because we belonged to M’lisa, but we had to be contained and constantly monitored least we shit all over the carpet.

And then, G and I got into a fight. A REAL one, like with shoving and tearing at hair. It was horrible. We’ve never fought like that in real life. I had forgotten to pack the dress she’s going to borrow from me. And for some reason, I was too embarrassed to tell her, so I just told her to meet me at the church. When she showed up, I was like: "Um, yeah. Sorry about the dress. But Norwalk Square is right next store. Maybe you can find something at Millers outpost. LOL." But then Carolynn saved the day because for some reason she brought an extra dress. Nana said something nice to G., she felt better, I apologized and we made up.

Fuckin’ Millers Outpost. Do they even have those stores anymore??

I’m getting excited about my trip to California. I am determined to have a good time next week. I might even cry to see M’lisa get married. There will be music and dancing (I hope- I don’t know how "white" everyone is going to act. But wedding are for dancing!!) And food. And drink. And maybe, just maybe if my sis G. pulls through, a little something extra.

Summertime Rolls

2005-07-28T10:12:00.000-07:00

"fell into
a sea of grass
and disappeared among
the shady blades...
children all
ran over me
screaming tag!
you are the one!"

That's from my favorite summertime song ever, by Jane's Addiction.

The last couple of days have been more of the same. More pool, more sun, more Harry Potter. I’ve got Malika with me for two days. Man, is she an easy kid! Jamie did a hellova good job with her. We swam in Mom’s pool all day, along with the Battan- Dodged family who came over for a bit. I got snacks from the $ store, and got the CDS out of my car. 'Twas a regular fiesta.

I’ve been trying to take advantage of this, my last summer. I say last because I’ll be working. Yes, yes, just like everyone else. Last night was so hot. My sis Katie and her bf came over last night around 9:30. We sat on the back porch, just to get some breeze. I mixed up some "hotel Oregon"s. Alan even came out to visit. Her bf had to be up at 4am (GOD, I know- but he’s 18, so he could pull an all nighter and still be cool.)

K. was just going to drop him off and then come home. I asked if I could go with. I was hot and bored and Alan was going to have to go back to work. Sheridan is only 15 miles from here, but they get a lot more wind. When the air is still and dead in MMV, it could be a wind storm fresh off the ocean just down the road. The kids were good sports and let me tag along.

We took the back roads, smoked, had the windows down and the rock turned up. Immature of me? Possibly. But I love that feeling. It says Summertime. No, it says very especially American Summer. I told Katie: "I don’t care what my age is, or how many summers pass, this never gets old. I hope even if I’m 63 I’ll have at least one night of summer like this: late at night, where I can hit the gas, fly along the deserted roads, with the wind in my hair and a song through the speakers."

Later on, we went to visit my other sisters place. She was still at work, but my brother in law was very hospitable. He always is. He’s got a their back porch equipped with wind screen, tables, lights, a radio, couches, plush chair. "Dude" I said because he IS such the Dude, "You’ve got quite the set up. I think this is my favorite room in the house." He’s always got some friend from high school hanging around. Last night it was his friend M.L. What a goober. He seriously looks like the guy from Deliverance. Same face shape, same eyes, same mouth, same grin. He was playing with his bow and arrow. He wanted to shoot it off the roof. And Katie was encouraging him. Let me add that it was 1 in the AM and he had been smoking herb all night. I don’t care how fucked up I have gotten, I always know this: Avoiding accidents = avoiding pain.
*picture of an Oregon road taken from www.jacey_z.tripod.com/atripacrossthewest/id5.html

OH NO! Ron and Hagrid Are DEAD!* warning: spoiler's ahead

2005-07-27T00:46:00.002-07:00

These are just some random Midnight thoughts. I'm not really writing about Harry Potter. There are no spoilers here and Ron and Hagrid are not dead.

At least not right NOW, not with the 6th book. Who knows what the hell Rowling will do? I mean, she already pissed me off by writing ...No never mind. I'm not writing about Harry Potter.

Not that it's because I'm against writing about Pop Trash. I just got finished watching Rescue Me. Dude, Sheila totally LOST HER SHIT. Imagine. Screaming in the streets at some man.

Right now, no one is home but me. It’s finally cooled down to about 72. The windows and door are all wide open to catch any breath of air. A moment ago I decided to turn off the TV and get on the Internet. Instead of turning off the TV with the remote, I accidentally turned the channel. Up flashed a black and white photo of a stained and messed up bed. The voice over was some country sounding creep, saying: " Well, I jus tuk 'er over to the bed and held 'er down. She wuz struggling but I..." before I hit the right button and turned it off. NOT what I wanted to hear/see.

Why do some people think those kind of accents are cute? It sounds like hick dementia to me, like a serial killer waiting to happen. Nice thoughts before bed, huh?

From the RedNeck files

2005-07-18T02:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get Email forwards from people at work. Some of them are funny but most are not. Some are even offensive. People really hate to be "politically correct" and I know that sometimes political correctness goes too far. Yet oftentimes, it's just about common sense and courtesy. Be nice to people. Don't call them names. Maybe LEARN about something that isnt in your backyard. So I get this "joke" memo about "towelheads". It goes:

"TOWEL HEADS"

"Recently I received a warning about the use of this politically incorrect term, so please note, we all need to be more sensitive in our choice of words.

I have been informed the Islamic terrorists, who hate our guts and want to kill us, do not like to be called "Towel Heads", since the item they wear on their heads is not actually a towel, but in fact, a small folded sheet.

Therefore, from this point forward, please refer to them as "Little Sheet Heads."

Thank you for your support and compliance on this delicate matter. "

I don't have the guts to address this matter in a reply. It's too small of a town, and only in the last 40 years or so have people here stopped being "Sheet Heads" themselves. As in white sheets and burning crosses, ya dig?

Anyway, if I had sent a reply it would have read like this:
Ok first off... not every one who covers their hair like that IS a Muslim. Most of the "towelheads" you see are not even Muslim, many are Sikh, followers of the doctrines of a monotheistic religion founded in northern India in the 16th century. It’s a combination of Hinduism and Islam.

Also, you fucking cracker, not every Islamic person is terrorist.

Two: I’m pretty sure Islamic terrorists don’t give a shit what Americans call them. We could call them Towel Head, Shithead, Friend, Brother, or Uncle Bud. They don’t care because they are murderers who want to extinguish this country, this culture and every heathen and "un-Godlike" thing about us. We are vermin to these people, and it doesn’t matter what vermin thinks about you, does it?

Three: the only people who might give a shit about such racist and ignorant terms are innocent Muslim Americans who are trying to live in this country and practice their religion.

And Four: Please, please, please stop assuming that because we share the same skin tone we can share anything other than Max Factor foundation. Do me a favor and keep your knee jerk redneck politics at home along with your "nigger" jokes and pseudo Christian evangelism.

SAVE BECK

2005-07-15T21:30:00.000-07:00

It’s a beautiful hot summer day. I went shopping for Malika’s birthday gifts, then jumped in the pool this afternoon. Later on, I took a nap with the fan on me since I got a little sun. When I woke up, I was craving, of all things, a funnalcake. I went on line just to see if I could find the recipe. Just then, Alan came through the door, holding two fresh funnelcakes. YAY!! It’s a post Independence day miracle!!! Since its too hot to cook, we had that for supper. Plus, today is payday. What a sweet Friday.

I was reading the Arts and Entertainment section and they were going on about the fabulous Beck concert that is happening tomorrow. I can’t go and I am bitter. The article also mentioned him being a sociologist. Since I don’t know all that much about the evils of sociology, and I don't know anyone in the cult, I don’t really give a fuck. I mean, how bad could it be? Any worse than the dogma I have been subjected to most of my life??
Well, according to this article ...
http://www.lermanet.com/beck/
...it’s very bad indeed. Poor, poor Beck. I love him. I want to save him. I want to tell him:
"They trapped you! They snared you with Marissa and now you’re stuck! Get out! People will still love you and support you if you find the strength to leave. You won’t be left alone, no matter what your "church" says."
Anyway, you should read the article....http://www.lermanet.com/beck/
I dont know if it's all bullshit, or what author's agenda is. This could even be real.

Turkey Rama & Laundry Trauma

2005-07-09T02:45:00.000-07:00

Today Alan and I went around and did the local festival: "TurkeyRama". If you don’t know what TurkeyRama, then you don’t live in Yamhill County, Oregon. Too bad for you.

We walked around and looked at shit, ate carnival food, Alan even looked the midway over. When we were tired, we saw Howels Moving Castle at the theater downtown. I had the best sushi roll ever. It was called a "Bob" roll. It was made with real crab and shrimp, and Bob totally would have dug it.

I was supposed to go to a party in Portland today but I didn’t have anyone to go with. Alan had bronchitisand didn’t feel like going to PDX and Jamie didn’t have a sitter. I am kind of bummed but today was sweet with lots of good old me n hubby time. It was like we were dating. But it’s even better now we’re married.

We were quite the team tonight when the sink that drains the dirty water from the washing machine broke. DIRTY, VOMIT- SMELLING water was everywhere. Soaking wet towels- which I am washing now at 2am because I don’t want that smell in my house. Thank God Alan had a wet vac. This was my evening. And it’s allllllll good.

The 4th! FUN! FIREWORKS! FAMILY! FOOD!

2005-07-04T23:37:00.000-07:00

That’s a picture of Alan’s aftermath.
This independence day was big and hot, just like they should be. Many people were invited to the big Independence Day shin-dig Georgia likes to throw. It’s always fantastic, a day of food, fireworks and family. It’s FUN. Ha- sounds like I'm writing a flyer for the event. "A Fantastic day of Fun with Food, Family and Fireworks". Guests were: 24 children in the pool all at once, and about 65 people total.

But this July 4th I was in SHITTY mood. Nothing could stir me from my bitterness. People I didn’t like were going to be there and I just wasn’t happy about it. Instead of being glad I was invited to this, of being happy I’m part of a big family, of being grateful for lots of food and the luxury of a real in ground pool, instead of being happy that the people I do enjoy were there - I was sweating the assholes who might bother me.

What’s funny is despite my pissy mood, it ended up being a pretty good day. I didn’t even get annoyed by those I dislike. In fact, I had an enjoyable moment with one of them! Alan put on his fireworks finale in memory of Bob, the police came but NOT FOR US this year, I got to see my buddy Nancy at the free Mac Fireworks show... A pretty good day all in all. Even for sourpuss me.

Nana-isms

2005-06-15T01:02:00.000-07:00

She liked my new car. It was roomy and easy to get in and out of. Not too low so its hard to get out of, or too high to climb up into. She bitched a little about Aunt Kathy’s new Dodge Durango. "She thinks that SUV is so great! It’s too high off the ground! God, it’s like getting into a semi truck. And she pays a mint for it every month. How much do YOU pay for this?" she asked slyly. I told her and she nodded. "Not bad, not bad." I don’t know why she does this; talks badly about one kid to another. Is it to foster some sort of competition? Is it to make us feel secure in her love for us? I would never tell Aunt Kathy that she was talking about her car...she’d punish Nana by not taking her anywhere at all. I can see her thinking: "So she hates my new Durango, huh? Well, she never has to ride in it again!" leaving Nana to rot in her one bedroom apartment. I can just imagine what Nana says about me to Aunt Kathy. Mostly about how fat and sloppy I am, how sickening Alan and I are together, or maybe how I made her sleep on the couch… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.

That first Tuesday, she got up around 9am. I had purchased her favorite Foldger’s Instant Decaf and Coffee Mate liquid Hazelnut creamer to make her feel more at home. I woke up to the sound of the coffee spoon clattering the cup, mixing the whole thing together over the sink. Alan’s low voice was talking to her. It was comforting to wake up to that- the sounds of both my "homes". For as long as I could remember, I woke up to Nana’s morning coffee routine.
I got out of bed and fixed myself some good coffee. I don’t fuck around with the instant myself. Alan teased me about getting up last, which I accepted with a shrug. I like to sleep- too bad if you don’t. We all settled in comfortably with our coffee (except Alan who can’t even stand the smell) and read parts of the morning paper. I asked Nana if she’d like anything for breakfast. "I don’t eat but one meal a day," she reminded me. "As long as I have my coffee, I’m fine."
I had some cereal and Alan made some weird stinky sandwich for breakfast. Later on in the week, after observing our morning rituals, Nana asked me why I didn’t make him breakfast. "After all, he’s the one who goes to work and you’ve got all day to sit around. Aunt Kathy makes Uncle Steve breakfast every morning, AND packs him a lunch. And makes dinner!"

I told her that I’ve offered through the years, but he only takes breakfast on the weekends. When Alan has to go to work, he just wants to wake up slowly over the paper without anyone asking him questions. It just irritates him to have me standing over him saying: "You want pancakes? Hash browns? How about some eggs? How do you want them? I’ll make you biscuits and gravy if you want…. Dude, make a choice, this shit takes time to make!" By the time he’s ready to make any heavy decisions like what to eat for breakfast, he’s already hungry and reheating something in the microwave.

Nana said: "You don’t ASK him. This isn’t a restaurant. Just make him something and he’ll have to eat it."
"But Nana, I've done that. I’ve made him eggs, or pancakes, or whatever and if he wasn’t ‘in the mood’ for it, then the food just sat there in the pan. And then I get pissed off because I made all that for nothing."
Alan joined in the conversation at that point. "It’s true. She used to make me food, food I didn’t even ASK for and then get mad at me for not eating it."
Just thinking about those times started to get me pissed off again, something Nana recognized since she’s known me all my life. She said: "All right, all right… I’m not getting in the middle!" and dropped it. Later when Alan left the room, she leaned over to where I was sitting and hissed: "I wouldn’t make him anything EITHER then." Which made me laugh.

We watched Gilmore Girls at 11, and I hopped on the treadmill for a while, or not. I filled her in on the goings on of Luke and Lorelei, and Rory and Dean, etc. I found out at the end of the week that she thought it was a regular daytime soap opera.
"I thought you told me you don’t sit around and watch soap operas," she said.
" I don’t." If I’m bored or high, I’ve watched those reality shows on VHI or MTV but she didn’t know that.
"You do! That one with the mother/daughter team you watch every day before Jamie comes to lunch!"
I tried to explain that it wasn’t a soap opera, but you know, the more I thought about it, the show kind of IS soap opera-ish. It just airs on Prime Time and has better film and dialogue.

Nana liked to take the mornings easy- thank god. She didn’t get dressed until she realized that OMG Jamie was going to be at my house in a HALF an HOUR! And what would Jamie think, to catch Nana in her robe?! Nana was sweet as sugar to her. Getting up when Jamie first arrived to give her a hug. " HIIIIII, Jamie!!!" Nana gushed. "How are you doing?" and calling her sweetie. Jamie and I usually take ourselves outside to eat on the patio (Jamie eats, I smoke). The first day Nana sat out there with us, but I don’t think she liked it out there that much because she didn’t sit with us at lunch time the rest of her stay. Maybe she just wanted to let me have some time with my friend, which was very considerate. So at noon, I set her up with another cup of instant and turned on the 12 o clock news. Nana loves her news stories.

Bed Times

2005-06-14T20:58:00.000-07:00

The bed dilemma didn't really come up. I offered my bed, but she didn’t want it. It took just one sit on my fabulously comfortable couch and she was sold. I told her: "OK, I’ll get you set up here, but if you find you don’t sleep well on it, or wake up stiff, then tell me and you can sleep with me. We’ll make Alan sleep out here; he likes the couch anyway."
She made a face: "What? I’m little! I’ll fit just fine."
"It’s not your size, ok, we all know you’re as wee as a little mouse… but maybe you want to stretch out…"
"No, No, I’ll just hug this little corner of the couch." She looked around and tugged at the throws we keep on the back of the couch. "Don’t bother with a blanket…I’ll use these this little couch throw to cover up, but maybe you have an extra pillow? I suppose I could use these decorative pillows if you don’t…." her voice faded away.
Yeah right. I should just see her shivering on the couch with just a thin cover-up and a small hard couch pillow, while my husband and I lay up in the big bed with our quilts and feather pillows. We have extra bedding, so I brought out flannel sheets to cover the couch, a comforter, a smaller blanket and a real pillow.
Thankfully she goes to bed pretty late, because Alan doesn't even come home some nights until 1am. When she wanted to go to sleep, I made up the bed and turned out all the lights except the small one on the side table, so she can turn it off when she pleased. She told Alan that he could have the TV on (when he can’t sleep he likes to watch it with the sound turned low, and the captions on) or that he could use the computer- it wouldn’t bother her. However, the thing with Nana is you never know if she’s telling the truth. Sometimes she’s just saying it’s ok, but will bitch about it later. Now I just tell her up front: " If you say its ok to do something, and then I do it and you’re UNHAPPY about it…. Well, I’m going to keep doing it until you tell me it bugs you. I’ll never know otherwise, and I’ll be blissfully unaware of your discontent, happily doing my thing, while you seethe inwardly. And that hurts no body but yourself."
She didn’t like hearing that- after all THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PLAY THE GAME- but I noticed the martyr stuff started to slow down. So before I turned in for the night, I told her again: "If Alan is keeping you awake and you want to go to sleep, don’t be afraid to say something. I wont get mad and neither will he."
"I’m not afraid of making him mad! I’ll tell him whatever I want" she told me in her feisty way. "He won’t keep me up- I take enough pills to knock me out for the rest of the night." Which was true- she brought a pharmacy. Some of it was pretty strong stuff: sleeping pills, muscle relaxants, pain pills, even a morphine type patch for her arthritis.
Every morning when she woke up, I asked her how she slept. "Just fine!’ she would insist. A couple of days later, the Landon’s went on a trip to Idaho, so they had some beds free. They offered the use of their house to us, but Nana wasn’t that interested. When we went to Seattle one weekend and the coast the next, she got to sleep in a bed. She bitched more about having to share a room with me. "God, it’s like trying to sleep with a fright train going through the room," she said of my snoring

NANA VISITS

2005-06-13T21:47:00.000-07:00

She came on the 13th. I met her at the baggage claim, where a fight attendant wheeled her off the plane in a wheelchair, as per her instruction. She bounced out of the chair and began searching for her luggage. She only brought the one suitcase, she explained, its paisley with a purple ribbon tired to it. Eventually it came and we made the long track to the car. Nana is old now and moves S-L-O-W. She wasn't joking about needing a wheelchair. Waddling along beside with her big suitcase, (which had no handle) I asked about her flight. She told me it was great, but that "the man who dropped me off- he didn’t help me with the luggage and there was no one with the wheelchair to greet me!" She described how she wandered around the airport with the electronic ticket in her hand, with no clue as to how to check in that way, struggling with her luggage. I got shivers picturing her lost at LAX, with her purse wide open, money falling out, shoving her wheeled suitcase along with her cane and asking terrorists how to use this damn email ticket.
I then asked her how everyone back in California was doing- and got a litany of complains (edited due to possible family drama) . Changing the subject, I marveled at the good weather: "It’s been raining all week. The sun just now came out."
Nana nodded, smiling her grim smile. "God said better watch out, better not rain… that bitch is coming to Oregon!" I laughed, because it was the first time she said it. I would hear it again through out her two-week stay with us.
She asked if I had eaten lunch. I hadn’t yet and was hungry. She wanted breakfast, so we went to Elmer’s. I had a hard time with the off ramp but I found it. She kept looking around the city saying: "Wow. Wow. Wow". I wasn’t sure if it was a comment on the city landscape or how I was driving.
When we sat down at the restaurant, I took a good look at her. She was so small, so cute with her light green shirt, her culottes, and matching green purse and shoes. I took a picture of her with my camera phone. It’s a very sweet picture.
We ordered the same thing- an omelet with the fixings. It was delicious. Nana didn’t finish all of hers. She only ate a bite or too, saving the rest for later. She’s weird about food anyway; only admitting to eating "one meal a day" The rest of the time she lives on snacks and decaffeinated coffee.
She likes to read so one of the points of interest she hoped to visit in Portland was Powell’s bookstore. She kept calling it "Pals", which I loved. (She’s got such a flat nasally voice- it’s very unique. Sometimes I save her voice mail messages so that Jamie can hear them later. She always leaves the same one: "JAAAQUELINE!! It’s Nan-naa. Nothing earth shattering, just wanted to say hi.") Even though the bookstore was downtown, my usual luck with parking spaces held and I found a decent spot without even having to use her Handicapped sign. The entrance to the famous bookstore was about half a block away, but it took a good part of the afternoon to get there- so it seemed. She was also browsing the windows of the 3 story building, pointing out the giant size book posters and telling me which ones she read.
She used to be on a regency kick for years, now she’s on Mysteries. I hate mysteries. I’ve tried to read a few but for the most part, especially the modern ones, especially (I hate to admit this) the ones written by women are just awful. They should be called Books Written About Stupid People For Stupid People. Not that I would say that. It kind of pisses Mystery fans off.
We began what was going to be a two-week hunt of G.A.McKevetts "Just Desserts". By the end of the two weeks, we had gone through what seemed like every bookstore between Seattle, Washington and Newport, Oregon. This being the Northwest, that’s a shitload.

2004-10-10T01:36:00.000-07:00

bowl

2004-10-10T01:32:00.000-07:00

Two cars

Got Suckered in Again!

2004-09-14T17:35:00.000-07:00

I gave my speech today. I hadn’t memorized it so of course I brought my notes with me, which was noticed. In the Toastmasters organization, using notes during a speech is a frowned upon. This means that people are forced to speak off the cuff a lot more.

Let me just state here, privately, that the people in my club have no business doing anything off the cuff- EVER. The speeches are excruciating to sit through. It is the number one reason I don’t like to go anymore. The same 6 people giving these terrible, dreadful anecdotes…. I don’t think anyone actually writes out their speeches. They’re kind of like rambling stories told by office workers or annoying relatives at a family gathering. In other words, there’s no obvious clarity of thought, no quick-wittedness, or clever turn of phrase. They plod through their speeches even though everyone there has had more than a year of guidance. Thankfully the ppeeches are seldom more than 7 minutes long.

I know I am being much too hard on my fellow toastmasters. They are good people, and they ARE trying. Not everyone has the gift of gab. Going up against their natural shyness with no spark of wit or talent is brave of them. I’m not such a bitch as to let this on, and I would be ashamed if they read this. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, since their only sin is failing to be interesting. Not everyone can be entertaining. I’m no David Sedaris, but when I get up there, people are like: “MY GOD she’s brilliant! What a talent!” You might think this is gratifying for me. It’s not; it only serves to illustrate how wide the chasm is between who I’d really like to associate with and who I actually DO.

The fact is, when I get up there, I am just as preachy and cardboard as they are. It’s required. It’s a very conservative crowd, and there are strict rules about what you can say and how to say it. I sort of like the strictness of it, however. It gives me some sort of structure to work towards. One of the things called to my attention is my accent. I’m from California, and have a college education so I was surprised when called up on account of it. I mean , I don’t have a hillbilly twang or anything. But I DO have a lazy general American accent- I run over my words, slur when I should be precise, pronounce my tt’s as dd’s, and will say “ ‘em” instead of “THem”.

I think I am railing against it because- heh… I got duped into doing this again!! No, I didn’t quit when I gave my speech. In fact, I even…. I volunteered to judge at the next contest. ::Sigh:: I went in with the intention to quit and got even further involved. I’m such a push over. In case you’re interested in this whole Toastmaster tirade, you might find the following interesting. It’s an example of the nice, generic TM speech, my speech today was on Forgiveness:

Toastmaster Speech: FORGIVENESS

2004-09-14T17:19:00.000-07:00

“Madam Toastmaster, fellow Toastmasters:
Alexander Pope wrote "To err is human; to forgive: divine" To forgive IS divine. The catch is, the only divine Being is God. But what about the rest of us? How can we forgive? WHY should we forgive?

I don’t need to tell you what you know already- that we live in an imperfect world. Wrongs will be done to us and we’ll be faced with the dilemma over and over again of whether or not to forgive those wrongs. It’s highly personal- only WE can decide what is forgivable and what is not. And even then, the list of what we think we can or can’t forgive is variable. Here’s what I mean: we really don’t know what we can forgive until we are in a situation. Something we are sure we could never forgive becomes a different story when we find ourselves actually confronted with the situation- while something else that we would have sworn we’d get over easily becomes surprisingly insurmountable.

Forgiveness is a process that depends on the actions of both the person being asked to forgive and the person who’s asking the forgiveness. Anytime we are faced with a serious question of forgives we need to think about the following in our ultimate decision:

Compassion: Compassion belongs at the heart of every action we take towards every living being on this planet- and that definitely includes forgiveness. For me, compassion can be summed up in the so-called Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Compassion, when applied to forgiveness, simply means hearing out the other person, putting ourselves in their position, taking all of their circumstances into account. Taking into account all their strengths and weakness. They have them. So do you. So do we all.

Motive: Also, we should always try and look at a person’s motive. It matters. There are deliberate actions and then there are accidents. Many of the things people do to hurt one another are not deliberate acts of cruelty- be rather acts of carelessness and ignorance and rash moments of thoughtlessness. Let me give you an example: A man forgave the drunk driver who killed his wife on the way home from a wedding they had all had attended. He was grieving deeply but he had come to forgive the driver. When asked how he’d managed to forgive the drunk driver he said: "I matched him drink for drink at the wedding. It could have easily been me who killed someone that night. The driver didn’t mean for this to happen anymore than I would have." If HE can forgive in the face of such lose, if HE can recognize that the only difference between him and that drunk driver was LUCK not MOTIVE, then the rest of us can try harder to do the same.

Also, people, we need to get a sense of proper proportion. In other words: "Don’t sweat the small stuff". I know people (and you probably do too) that treat an unreturned phone call from a friend, bad taste in a Christmas gift, or someone taking ‘their’ parking space with the same gravity as if someone kidnapped their child or murdered their parents! Life is already full enough of real crisis and serious betrayals without giving our full emotional energy to someone for forgetting our birthday or a waiter for bringing you the wrong order.

The ultimate goal of forgiveness is peace of mind- not theirs but our peace of mind.
It’s a choice- a gift- "for- giving"- and ironically it’s the forgiver who receives the greater share of the gift. You may be asking: "How is it that if **I* forgive someone who hurt me, then how is it that I’m the one who gets the "greater share of the gift???" We can sit here and talk all we want about how forgiveness is a moral and/or religious duty and how spiritual evolved we are to forgive. But the fact is, you aren’t really free to move on unless you sincerely forgive. When we forgive we are no longer under the negative power of the event or person who hurt us in the first place. It is spiritually paralyzing to stay stubbornly bound to something that hurt us.

Perhaps you don’t believe in the spirit or soul- why should you forgive then? Does it matter?
The scientific and medical worlds are starting to realize such negativity is physically destructive as well. Holding on to smoldering grudges and unresolved resentments take their toll on our immune and cardiovascular system. Forgiving brings us peace and also allows us to let go and move on. Our health literally can’t afford getting stuck on emotional wounds without taking steps to help them heal.

We are going to make mistakes in this life and one way or another we are going to hurt someone. I believe that part of the reason for being here on this earth is to have challenges to overcome and learn from. All sides of forgiveness- giving it, receiving it, even refusing it are basic and essential to the growth and ultimate grace of our spirit.

……………………Madam Toastmaster”

Toastmaster Blues

2004-09-13T17:38:00.000-07:00

Over a year ago, I joined my company sponsored Toastmasters club. It was free and since I knew people already in the club I thought it would be fun. I also had some sort of grandiose idea of learning to speak well in public so that when I found my own church here in Bible thumping country, I would have some experience.

I got my CTM (that’s 10 speeches) and was pushed into entering a local contest (where upon I gave my 1st speech ENTIRLY WITHOUT NOTES!). I quit my full time job, but since I am still employed on an “on-call basis” my membership is still in effect. Meanwhile people that I knew in the club dropped out and I no longer had the daily contact with the work people in the club so my weekly attendance dropped. I went to California for a month, and well, never really made it back. Since I was still on the roster, I was picked to do a speak Sept 14, even though I haven’t been there for months.

People, that’s tomorrow. I still haven’t written a speech, even though I was constantly nagged about it by Alan. It’s not that I won’t go- people are counting on me being there to fill the spot, and I consider it bad form to say you’re going to be there and NOT show up. I decided that I’d just give one of my old speeches. It’s lazy but legal. I want to drop out but I don’t want the hassle of explaining why. I find it difficult to say “no” to nice but persistent people.

Speaking of the Old company, I’ve been working here a little more often. An inept operator was givin the heave ho a few weeks ago and I’m picking up the slack. It’s been kind of weird for me. I still have the same “relationships” with the people here ini my HEAD as when I walked out the door, but to them a year has passed. I don’t know if I like that, or what. It certainly makes things easier, tho.

Not in a swell place

2004-09-07T16:29:00.000-07:00

Haven’t updated lately as I've been somewhat busy and wanted to take some time on my entries. Maybe I won't do that in the future; maybe I'll just let things fly. After all, the whole point of me writing this blog isn't so much to have a forum, but rather to record my daily activities.That's the only reason I haven’t been writing. No, I haven’t been depressed, as is usually the case when no one hears from me. That used to happen a lot. It's made me more aware others depression.

Sad thing is (no pun in intended) writers tend to be depressed. They get all grouchy and morose. Feeling sorry for youself and feeling the despair the world around you easy to do when you’re sensitive and introspective, as most writers tend to be. Even the best on line diarists sometimes come up with some glum observations. I guess that was the case lately with Rob of Darn- Tootin.com when he wrote: “I'll leave it to you to decide how sad it is that two of my best friends are a mute four year-old and a rodent”. It's kind of tongue in cheek, but also forlorn. When I read it my reaction was to laugh! Not because I am a cold unfeeling bitch, or I look at him with condescending eyes- but because I can relate to that feeling. I dont know him at all, but from what he writes it seems he has his problems but he has a lot of blessings too. He’s got lots of readers ( more than your or I hope to have) praise for his writing, a beautiful child, (mute thought she may be) a loving family, a job… I could go on, but that would make it sound like I’m trying to be all: “ Stop yer crying- or fate will give you something to cry about!” No, I understand- it doesn’t matter how many blessings you have in your life – it all turns to shit when you get the blues. Mr. Rob has in my unprofessional, layman’s opinion just a wee bit of depression going on. Seems to take him out of the blue, again, no pun intended. (I hate puns- why do they come to me? Get lost evil word daemons- go bug Alan, he thinks puns are a hoot.) And they seem cyclic. Well, I don’t know him, like I said, but I can recognize that when I see it, since it’s something I’ve had dealing with since puberty.

Things have been good though. This is the first time I’ve felt good on a consistent basis without anti-depressants. I've been off them since May. It’s not like I’m Mary Sunshine, but when I see my thoughts sliding towards a darker path I can recognize it.Of course, currently, I DO have a very good life. I feel almost superstitious writing that, as if it’s daring fate to snatch it from my hands. I have problems and disappointments, and some of them I just don’t see a really happy ending too, but its nothing I cant live through. I don’t know how healthy it is that my whole happiness is wrapped up in my husbands, but it’s the truth. As long as things are good with him, a long as he is happy, in my life and working (yes, working- don’t ever kid yourself that being poor isn’t devastating) I feel like I can stand just about anything. I know, I know, on a spiritual, enlightened level I should know that happiness is in my hands and it all turns out in the end, trust in God, etc. I do know it on some level, but I’m no Job… I don’t want it test it out. Guess I’ll have to work on that.

Life is hard even when you're pretty

2004-08-27T15:25:00.000-07:00

Crazy ass kids. I don’t want to be a teenager again, I’ll tell you that. Life is hard even when you’re pretty- it's all drama, uncertainly and experimentation. My two sisters are in the thick of it. Last week I got a front row seat to the instanity that is adolescence.

You see, last Monday, Mom went into the hospital for a hysterectomy. I have mixed feelings about that since it seems that giving women hysterectomies are something too many MDs do when they don’t know what else to do with a woman. If you don’t think that there exists such a thing as medical sexism, email me and I’ll point you in the right direction. At any rate, Mom needed the surgery since they found some "rogue cells" which had the potential of turning cancerous. She was scheduled to have the operation a month ago but didn’t go thru with it. This Monday, my younger sisters and I, along with her friends, actually went WITH her to the hospital . Even then, after she was prepped for surgery, she tried to run away! Yeah....

Since she was going to be at the hospital all week, she wanted someone to stay at the house with my two youngest sisters, K. (17) and A. (14). Both of them were a little put out at "needing a babysitter" especially the 17 year old. I told her the truth: "I’m not here to babysit you. If you want to get piss drunk and fuck everyone on the football team, I cant do anything about that." She just rolled her eyes and said : "Yeah RIGHT, like I’d even touch any of those bone heads on the team." "But," I told her : "I’m babysitting the HOUSE. Mom doesn’t need to come back to a trashed house. She likes the way things are... nothing broken , stained or missing."

Actually, the girls were pretty good. Altho they ran around with their friends, they were not gone all day, they didn't have people over and they always came home at night- both girls coming home at night before 11pm. Amazing, considering what most kids would do with keys to a truck and no parents to look after them. The last night before mom came home, I even let them have a little party.

Yeah, how cool am I. Partying with the high school crowd!!
Hey, I’m not their mom, and the drugs were free.

(Only kidding)

Back in the Game

2004-08-20T14:26:00.000-07:00

Finally broke her "cherry"- way to go! After a long hiatus, Sleeping Beauty woke up.

(This is not my story to tell but I had to make note of the date)

Getting to Know You.

2004-08-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

I love these things. Some people think surveys are boring, but I like to send them to my friends and have them fill it out. There are some things you never know about people... Anyway, here's the newest one I got from cousin Carolynn.
LAST PERSON WHO

x. Slept in your bed: a big ol nekkid man- in fact, he’s there NOW!
x. Saw you cry: maybe at my Dad’s funeral last year. I hate to cry in front of anyone so I keep it to myself.
x. Made you cry: I cry over a sad book, an emotional song, when someone hurts my feelings. I cry as easily (and as quickly) as I laugh.
x. You shared a drink with: My 14-year-old sister! lol
x. You went to the movies with: It’s been a while since I went with anyone. I took myself to the matinee twice last month to get any from the heat.
x. You went to the mall with: Malls, like movies are rather a solitary pleasure for me.
x. Yelled at you: Some dude from work. It’s always work related. People like to yell on the phone. Oh, and Alan yells at me from time to time- but he’s actually just “talking loud” because he’s frustrated.
x. Sent you an email: Jamie

HAVE YOU EVER...

x. Said "I Love You" and meant it? Of course.
x. Gotten in a fight with your pet: what the hell….?
x. Been to Florida: yes, when I was 16. It was summer, and I felt like I was breathing thru wet gauze. Screw the East Coast and their humidity. I’m keeping my ass right here on the West Coast!
x. Been to California: Born n raised.
x. Been to Hawaii: yes when I was 8 years old. I have great memories of that vacation.
x. Been to Mexico: Yes, Puerto Villarta in October. I want to go back- it was fantastic.
x. Been to China: Not yet.
x. Been to Canada: yes when I was 13
x. Danced naked: ha ha , just thinking about it makes me laugh. Can I get a HELL no?
x. Dreamed something really crazy and then it happened the next day? nope
x. Wish you were the opposite sex: nope- men have to act a certain way otherwise they get beaten up, called a fag, etc, etc. Such bullshit. I would hate that.
x. Had an imaginary friend: no
x. Do you have a crush on someone: right now? No.
x. What book are you reading now: Doorway to heaven
x. Worst feeling in the world: rejection/disappointment
x. Future son's name: Landon
x. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal: heh… no. Just Alan.
x. What's under your bed: dust bunnies.
x. Siblings: 5 sisters
x. Location: McMinnville, Oregon
x. College plans: been there, done that
x. Piercing/tattoos: 2 holes in each ear and a nose piercing from 1992. Still sportin’ it too.

EXTRA STUFF

x. Do you do drugs: of course not, just… you know, recreationally.
x. Do you drink: No, what do I look like, a DRUNK?
x. Who is your best friend: Jamie
x. What are you most scared of: being fat… opps! Oh shit, it’s already happened. Ok, I guess being poor. Opps…. Ah, ok being burnt in a fire and then having to survive it instead being allowed to die.
x. What clothes do you sleep in: just panties in summer and an added tee shirt in cooler weather.
x. Where do you want to get married: I got married in a beautiful historic church.
x. Who do you really hate: I hate Pirate and Tracy but only because they got in the way of what I really wanted.
x. Been in Love: yeah
x. Do you drive: my ride is a 1989 Toyota Corolla- PIMPIN’!
x. Do you have a job: sometimes
x. Do you like being around people: sometimes- and then only SOME people
x. Are you a health freak: absolutely- except for the health part.

STUFF

x. Have you ever loved someone you had no chance with: yes, that used to be my M.O.
x. Have you ever cried over something someone of the opposite sex did: of course
x. Do you have a "type" of person you always go after: tend to go for tall, white guys
x. Want someone you don't have right now: other than Bono….
x. Are you lonely right now: no, I’m content and feel loved.
x. Song that’s stuck in your head a lot: whatever was playing last
x. Do you want to get married: I’m married, very happily
x. Do you want kids: I think so, despite evidence that it’s a lot of thankless work.

FAVORITE
x. Room in house: toss up between my bedroom and my living room
x. Type(s) of music: rock n roll baby with a splash of hip-hop for flava
x. Color: maroon
x. Perfume or cologne? Inis (Irish cologne), and Dazzle (Gold) from Estee lauder
x. Month: October
x. Stone: opal

IN THE LAST 48 HOURS, HAVE YOU...

x. Cried: No
x. Bought something: yes
x. Gotten sick: No
x. Sang: No
x. Said "I love you": yes
x. Wanted to tell someone to tell you that they love you: yes and he did :-)
x. Met someone new: no
x. Missed someone: yeah
x. Hugged someone: yes
x. Kissed someone: yes

Robert Stephen Landon 1949-2003

2004-08-18T22:38:00.000-07:00

A year ago today, a great man finished his work here on earth and went Home.

I miss you, Dad.

2004-08-17T22:02:00.000-07:00

Went to N.’s house, stayed pretty late, went home and ate ½ a bag of cheddar Sunchips. I knew I would pay for it in the wee hours of the morning by having what is known as G.E.R.D.. What that means is I have bad heartburn and sometimes the horrible bile will come up, making my throat burn and choke. I hate it.

The only solution is not eating past 8pm but since I go to bed really late that means I go to bed hungry sometimes. I hate going to bed hungry- so I choose between hunger or GERD. Of course, I would lose weight if I stopped eating at night, but oh well. Some days I’m more disciplined than others. Anyway, so there I was being awaked by this GERD shit from 4:30 until 6am. Finally dropped off at 6, when my work called me to coming in at 8. I work on call so I had the option of not getting the phone.

When I woke up about noon, I found out that my friend had her baby but she hadn’t been able to hold him yet. He’s healthy except for the fact that as they were getting him out of the womb, he took a big breath- unfortunately he breathed water. That’s bad news. Since everything else about him is healthy, they’re sure he’s going to be fine but they have to take care of him just in case. My friend N was trying to be cool about it, but she wanted that baby! Of course she did. I hope that when my time comes (if it ever does!) I’ll be that cool. I have a feeling that I’d be at turns bitchy or whiney- and will end up sending See’s chocolates to each and every nurse for their trouble.

Monday morning, coming 'round

2004-08-16T20:37:00.001-07:00

Finally, finally the flood has stopped. I feel so much better - I can get some stuff done. Ok: Change sheets, wash sheets, do another load, fold and put away laundry. Clean up debris from not picking up after myself all last week, clean kitchen (oh, god that FLOOR).

Opps, it’s already time for dinner. Make Alan his favorite (spaghetti) then it’s time to go to my friend N.’s house. She’s having a scheduled c-section, as well as getting her tubes tied and a hernia operation tomorrow morning. I know she’s a little nervous about it (and she’s really not alt all the nervous type) so I’m going over there to play cards and keep her company until she’s tired enough to go to bed.

Could anything be more boring than the diary of a housewife? Don’t answer that

PUNJABI ME

2004-08-15T21:23:00.000-07:00

Today was India Day in PDX. Having a love of bongra music and makhani sauce , I decided to go. I had already been to my favorite Indian lunch spot- which raised the price from $7 to $8, so I was too full to enjoy the Indian food booths. This is only the 2nd year the Indian Cultural Association has put this on, thus there were not a lot of other booths to make it interesting. Still, it’s a very popular event, judging from the crowd. Although the booths did not hold my interest, the people did.

Oh how I love Indian dress. I love the scarves, the colorful embroidered saris, the flattering princess seamed Punjabi suits. I love the colors and styles so much. Sadly they do not make such clothes in a 3 x. Don’t argue with me; I’ve looked. Certainly there are fat Indian women (There were none in attendance today, but I have seen them in California) However, they are small, fat women. Even if I were to magically become a medium sized person, those clothes might still be out of reach. Indian clothes are very expensive; several hundred dollars. And if the gold dripping from every female’s forehead, wrists, neck, nose, etc, is real- those families in attendance today are wealthy indeed. So I looked on at the beautiful outfits with envy. There were dances, great music and an mock Indian wedding.

I only stayed for a few hours, but it was fun. The best part was where I was sitting with these young Indian Americans. They knew many of the dancers, and had a comment for everything. It was very high school. They spoked English of course, otherwise I wouldn’t know they were being catty but...well, actually, cattiness does translate well, so maybe I would have known by their tone. It was fun being a part of (sort of, vicariously) with the little circle. The comments started out like : "Oh! That’s the song YOU were going to dance to!" "Yeah but I wouldn’t have opened with that move." "What the hell are they trying to do? They are not in synch". "Did they even practice?" "So n so always had a dead leg, look at that- so stiff" "I would SO not par that dance with that song" all this peppered with what I took to be either Indian slang or insults, which finally ended up with the group having grudging respect for those in their community that actually DID get up and dance.

After that, I took a trip to Powell’s books- got my Nana some G.A McKevett books she asked for- ON SALE! Score! It was a good day.

How ya like me now?

This Week Is All About Flooding

2004-08-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

Its Saturday. Yesterday Alan and I were going to go to a Portland outdoor concert to see Death Cab for Cutie and They Might Be Giants. I didn’t get to go b/c the bleeding and cramping are still pretty bad . This is not typical for me but I just couldn’t see walking with these cramps, and trying to deal with this in a (gag) porta potty. Alan had to go by himself. I missed him.

Today we were going to hang out together, but his mom called. She lives a few miles away by herself. Some pipe burst at her house, causing flooding. He went over there to take care of it. He didn’t even have time to eat breakfast- which was sausage and potato pancakes, with vanilla nut coffee. (He doesn’t drink coffee, tho). I’m still taking it easy, not doing anything but the breakfast and clean up. I decided to write a blog entry and catch up with emails. Had a nice little convo with Andrea.

I just devoured an "inside out" KitKat. I love those things. But I ‘ll always be this fat if I keep eating that way. Don’t get me wrong- I don’t hate fat people, or fat women or myself b/c I am fat. I don’t even mind being fat really. I just don’t like having to bypass dresses with have a waist and I don’t like how the excess fat has distorted my face. I used to be pretty. Now I’m grotesque. Ah, to be only 200 lbs again. That’s right, 200 pounds. Fat by anyone standards, but just lovely for me.

All the Oregon Sisters- Crystal's Wedding July 24

2004-08-12T16:43:00.000-07:00

Left to right=Georgia, Katie, Crystal, Trevor, Jacqueline, Amber

Got beat up by water and left for dead by the sun

2004-08-12T14:50:00.000-07:00

I just started this b/c I want to comment on Andreas blog, and the site made me sign up to do it. Still, i dont think thats such a bad idea. I wanted to start writting a journal again. People have been asking me about it -which is a good sign, seeing as how I get off on being entertaining. I do still have the the old geocities off the shelf2 site, but I really dont want to fuck with it. You know, do the html. I LIKE being able to customize it, and I REALLY REALLY dig having a new picture up every day, but..... I keep meaning to get around to doing it- i dont' and thats another day lost of writing.
So here, i 'll just write on this easy blog. If it works out, I'll send people the addy.
So, to recap this week-
On Monday it was 100degrees. hot as a witches tit in hell- so I took myself to the theater, saw Manchurian candidate.
Tuesday I to0k my younger sisters Katie(17) and Amber (14) with their cousin Becky (18) to a water park up near Seattle. We played hard all day and drove back that same night. I was running up and downshills, climbing 4 stories to the water rides. Yeah, acting like I'm not a "Morbidly Obese" 33 year old. Didnt feel the pain until the NEXT day.
Wednesday- another near 100 degree day with no AC. The shit from Tuesday caught up with me, and I lay there like a slug, sunburnt and sore. Did make Alan dinner tho- least I could do. After i ate i started huring really bad - thought the salmon I ate was bad. But no, it's just my period. I just had one, so I'm bleeding internally! Or having a miscarrage! But I'm too hot to freak out. Whatever.
Thursday: I know I should go see muy out of town relatives, but bleeding and being in pain IS a fairly good reason for holing up in your own cool dark house while the sun rages and boils the scorched earth outside. Somehow i have a feeling that wont cut it, so I'll end up the asshole.
Good thing I dont care enough right now.
I think I'll go eat something with sugar in it.