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I am so blah
Times they are a'changin' and I've just never been all the comfortable with change.
And it's finally turning spring out there. Which I hate. A lot.
On the lighter side, my new clownfish is making my old clownfish very happy. they frolic and play in the current made by the filter pump. They sleep curled up together in the cave behind the rock. It's good to see her coming out of her own darkness...she was one sad clownfish. No one likes a sad clown...
Tam and I went to check out the park where her wedding ceremony is going to be held. Hereth Park. Has a wonderful sheltered area that will keep us from sweltering in the August heat. We tried to check out the VFW Hall where the reception is going to be held but alas, no one was in residence today. So then we went to URM and priced foodstuffs and paper goods. It's all coming together nicely. As soon as prom season ends and all the pretty frocks go on sale, Kelly and I are going shopping for our dresses. I'm starting to get excited but it's still a ways off...summer always seems so endless and brutal to me...
I've got nothing else. I thought I was in the mood to write but as is becoming the norm lately, I'm completely blocked...damn...I hate spring...
oh here's my good news, Meg got an apartment!!! At the Four Horses. I always wanted to live there, well at least I did way back in the 80's when they were new and fanci-fied with their pool and such. I guess they got pretty scary messy icky for awhile but theres a new owner and he's cleaned the place up and done a lot of improvements...or so we're told. It will be a good first pad for her though. It's a studio so she won't have too much to clean. And like she says, she's never going to be there anyway. It's mostly a place to store her stuff and bathe. Ah to be 18 again...
I'm appalled and ashamed that not a single one of you was willing to inconvenience yourselves in order to give up your seat to a young soldier on a 14 day leave from the war in Iraq who was trying to get home to see his wife and baby. That three hours you would have spent waiting for the next flight would have meant you missed your favorite TV program or were late for a meeting or started your vacation a few hours later than planned. But for Jarod it meant three less hours he gets to spend with the baby he hasn't seen in eight months and the wife he only had a couple precious months to be with before he went off to fight. He gets fourteen lousy days before he has to go back to the desert to risk his life. And no matter what you think of this war or the reasons it's being fought, there is no excuse for not feeling compassion and appreciation for the men and women who are fighting it. Remember on 9/11 how pissed we were and how we vowed revenge on the perpatrators of such horror? Well guys like Jarod answered that call and while we have all gotten on with our own lives they are still out there, sleeping in ditches, hungry and thirsty and dirty and a long long way from home, doing their jobs, risking their lives, missing their families. I hope you are all ashamed of yourselves as I'm ashamed of you for taking those three precious hours away from this family. I hope whatever it was you were rushing off to was as important as Jarod spending a few extra hours watching his son sleep, holding his wife, being spoiled by his mother. Personally, I can't think of anything more important than that. |
As always happens to me in the spring, I am feeling a powerful longing for something I've never known. For as long as I have memory, I've felt an undeniable connection to Ireland. I don't know for sure if this is because being Irish is the only thing I really know about myself or if it's really the strength of generations coursing through my veins. It doesn't really matter. Either way, when the skies are grey, the clouds thick and heavy, pewter and periwinkle, when the hills turn emerald green and I wake up to the sound of wind and rain, something inside me awakens.
Of course the approach of St Patty's day accelerates this longing to manic purportions.
At lunch today I watched Anthony Bourdain in Ireland, Belfast and Dublin. County Cork. I learned the amusing tidbit that Irish people, surrounded on all sides by the Atlantic Ocean, don't like seafood. Neither do I. But you'd think they would. Oh no, not my people. They'd rather starve to death. And did. I love Anthony because he always gives you a touch of history and culture and he didn't gloss over the eternal struggle that has been Ireland's history. I wonder if I'd been born there if I'd have been Catholic or Protestant. I can't see me as a Catholic but you never know. I can see me as a revolutionary. I've always been a rebel without a cause...
Anyway, there is my rumination on my heritage. I want to go there, home. I want to take my children and introduce them to their Motherland. Instill in them the deep sense of history and belonging and struggle that is part of who they are. I have every intention of making that happen, next year. Tax money. I'm going to Ireland...just wait and see if I don't
Everyone keeps acting like at any second it's going to occur to me that I'm about to turn 40 and I'll suddenly lose my mind and freak out and have a meltdown.
Sorry to disapoint folks, but ain't gonna happen. I could care less. I feel the same as I did last year and each of the years before other than the fact that my life is actually in much better shape than it was when I was turning 20 or 30. I am in love with the love of my life. He seems to find me pretty acceptable in return so that's a plus. In June we will celebrate our 3rd anniversary as married folks, and since most of our friends gave us about six months, I'd say we're doing pretty good. My babies are happy, healthy and reasonably well adjusted considering. knock wood. I have a job that I enjoy and coworkers I adore. We have a decent roof over our heads, the bills, for the most part, are paid up to date. We have health insurance at long last and no longer have to give blood BEFORE going to the doctor. We even have a nice car (again, knock wood). I am now eight chapters into my book and if I do say so myself, it's some of the best work I"ve done. I'm finding my own voice at last. It's hard, I still slip into Nora Roberts or [shudder] Danielle Steel now and then and then I'm forced to nuke entire chapters and start over. But it's progressing and nicely.
I've been lucky so far in the physical dept. and I'm going on the theory that all this chub is plumping me up so much I've yet to really wrinkle. I have a tiny touch of crows feet (those are laugh lines folks) and despite liberal applications of all kinds of skin toner and firmer and lotions, I'm starting to get that old lady crinkling in my cleavage but only when I lay on my side so as long as I'm upright I'm cool. Dear God I'm not ready for the day I'll have to put my cleavage away forever...eek. I have yet to find a gray hair and considering I just colored my hair I think I'll make it all the way to 40 without finding one. I did get a wierd spot on the back of my wrist that might be an age spot. Might be melanoma. Or a freckle. Who knows. The point is I'm not gonna freak about it.
So having taken stock of my life, my bod, my emotional/mental state, I'd have to say I'm in pretty darn good shape for an old lady. And as long as the cute boys in sales keep acting shocked when I say I'm turning 40 and guessing my age closer to 30, I think I'm gonna live...a little longer anyway....
Spring, oddly, makes me nostalgic for Vegas...go figure.
It was spring when I moved down there. Spring when we bought our first house and planted our first garden. Spring when we sat on the couch, during an amazing desert thunderstorm, talking about forever, planning the future of the baby I carried under my heart. Spring when he broke my heart for the first time...and the second and the third. Spring when I went back to work after my second child was born, working my first Grateful Dead show, coming back to life for the first time in years...Spring when I realized I was still a woman with a heart and a soul and dreams of my own...
Hmm...that's a poser. Let's see, he should be handsome with thick white hair, a slightly jowly face that makes you want to pinch his cheeks...he should play a wicked sax and smoke cigars...he should be capable of being humbled as well as becoming righteously angered when called for. He should care passionately about his country and his fellow countrymen. I don't care what he does on his own time or who he screws as long as it's not me...well maybe, under the right circumstances...
Okay since there is little chance we are going to get William Jefferson Clinton back into the White House as anything other than first hubby, here is more realistic description:
I want a president who has been poor, who has struggled and overcome. One who knows what it's like to not be able to pay your doctor bills AND still buy the prescription meds that are keeping you alive. One who has sent an unsigned check to the power company and an empty envelope to the phone company, hoping to buy a few more days to come up with the money...I want a single mom who knows how to make 101 things out of hamburger or a dad who worked for Boeing for 20 years and was laid off due to budget cuts in a struggling economy. I want someone whose never had a haircut that cost more than $15 and wears a suit that is either a hand-me-down or was purchased off the clearance rack. How about someone who used to be a waiter or a dishwasher or drove a city bus or taught third grade. Someone who knows how scary it is to live in a world where violence and poverty and drugs are more than "issues" to be used to garner support. Someone who has been touched by those things in their own life. Someone who wakes up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night worried that their youngest child may be called to serve and die in a war they don't support, for a country they are struggling to still believe in.
I want an American. Not a politician. Not a democrat or republican. A human being. With a soul and a heart and eyes wide open.
Anyone who knows someone who fits that bill..lemme know where I sign up to support them
Other than that, we're still waiting to hear about the car we want to buy and we are planning on going to see the house we hope to rent tomorrow. If we get the house we are also getting a puppy so we're excited about that possibility. And especially that miss moo will come to live with us and let me spoil her for awhile. Fingers crossed.
life...currently pretty good.
just another of our freedoms in danger of being stripped away....
Other than those two major deals, pretty quiet round our hovel. I'm already starting to pack and clean and sort and toss. I love moving, I know that's wierd and when your in the middle of doing it, it's a drag, but I love fresh beginnings. I love figuring out where to put things in cabinets and closets. Arranging furniture in new ways. I love packing things and unpacking them...it's like Christmas all over again.
In the last few years, thanks to my husband who is king of conspiracies, I've had my comfortable middle class blinders ripped from my eyes. Like everyone else in the country I wept and prayed on 9.11. I cursed the "terrorists" who perpatrated such horror and evil on innocent people. I swore vengence on the bad guys and I actually cheered and welcomed the war that followed. Someone had to pay. Boy howdy. Someone does have to pay but the war in Afghanistan didn't do it and the one in Iraq is not going to, nor whatever future war our govt is plotting. And I firmly believe that is exactly what they are doing at this moment. Deciding where to go next. And I have no doubt that if we, the people, make noise they will have absolutely no problem reminding us why the war on "terror" is so necessary. I firmly believe that our own gov't at the very least allowed 9.11 to happen to us. At the worst I have now come to believe that they may have actually had a hand in it's planning and execution. They are most certainly profiting from the aftermath of the tragedy, they and their rich Texas oilmen friends.
And I know that thanks to the many freedoms we have handed over to them in the years since 9.11, it's possible that they are reading this post. But I don't care anymore. I won't let fear stop me from standing up and shouting that this country is well and truly fucked if we don't wake up FAST and take back our rights and our freedoms and DEMAND that our gov't be held accountable for it's crimes. We cannot allow the republican empire to continue to reign over us, to strip away one by one what little freedom we still have. We can't allow the "fear machine" to scare us into accepting video surveillance of our every move. We can't hand over control of the internet, the last bastian of free speech. We can't let a handful of Republican companies control the media and color everything we see and hear to suit their purposes. Remember the book 1984? Doesn't seem quite so farfetched now, does it?
It's time for a grass roots movement, it's time to go old school and start a buzz on college campus', in coffee houses and back alley's where ever people gather. Spread the word. Stand up. Speak out. Demand we be heard. Take back what is ours. Stop letting them wipe their asses on the Constitution.
I want it clear that I absolutely support the men and women of the military. I am grateful to them for the enormous sacrifices they are making every day. But right now at this moment someones son or daughter, someones husband, wife, lover, friend, is dying in a foreign land. American blood is being spilled in the sand and it's not being spilled for honor or duty or glory or even revenge. It's being spilled for greed, for oil. For money and power. And this year it's someone else's kid over there but in two years time it could very well be my kid. Or yours. And I don't know about you but I don't want my son giving his life for the glorification of George W Bush or the like.
In regards to the upcoming election, a poll on cnn.com said that the chief concern of the American public in this election is the state of the economy. For real? Can that be true? Cuz I could give two shits about the price of tea in China when people are DYING in a war that no one I know continues to support. My number one concern is getting our men and women home, safe. And not sending them to another country, another fight that is not ours. I want to know what our gov't is doing about that and I don't want to hear anymore of Bush's double speak stumbling bumbling BULLSHIT.
We're not stupid Mr. Bush and we are not blind.
We see you and we know what your up to and for the moment we might be immobilized by fear, confusion and the desperate need to believe that we can still believe in our gov't and in our country. But people are starting to whisper and that whisper is going to quickly turn into a roar...we're coming for you, one patriotic American at a time.
Stand up. Speak out. Demand justice...it's the American way.
I emailed the girl who posted those clips and asked her if she happened to remember a kids show from the 70's that was taped in Portland. It was one of those cartoon shows where the host, usually a wacky middle aged guy in a sweater a la Fred Rogers, chatted with the studio audience (grade school children and their parents who usually remained hidden off-camera) in between cartoons. I've been trying to remember the name of this show for years and bless the girl who emailed me back to say...Ramblin Rod! It was teh Ramblin Rod Show! Yay. Somewhere lost in the annals of time is a scrap of footage of me and my sister, in matching patchwork dresses made by our mother, matching shit-fountain hair-do's on our heads, teased to within an in inch of our lives and lacquered with enough Aqua Net to prevent movement in hurrican force winds. I was singled out because it was my birthday and I was cute damn it. But of course all my friends same me, dressed by my mom with my shit-fountain hair. I took crap for that for weeks...but I did get a Duncan Butterly YoYo and a case of Pop Shoppe Pop so it was totally worth it.
Michael and I have decided we want to retire to Rhodendron Oregon after Max graduates and goes off to college. It's a quaint Swiss Village on the side of Mount Hood. Of course the houses start at $950,000 so we'll need to get rich first. But just think, 40 minutes to Portland, 2 hours to Seaside? I'd be in heaven!
Happy Birfday Johnny!
I hope you have a rockin' day!
Then we stayed up most of the rest of the night watching more Tyra and the girls and slept late New Years Day. I didn't even get out of my jammies all day yesterday, just flopped from the bed to the couch to the fridge and back again. It was divine indulgence. Just the way I wanted to start off the new year.
The babies were together at Ashley's playing xBox live and shooting off fireworks and I'm sure munching Melissa out of house and home. I felt good knowing they were together.
So now the holidays are officially over and it's back to the grind. Time is trickling so slowly over here today. I can't believe it's only 10. I was sure it was nearly noon. Ick. I had too much time off apparenlty and now I can't get back into the groove. Oh well. Luckily it's a short week.
In 11 days my husband will turn 41 and in 13 days my son will be sixteen. Wow...time keeps on ticking ticking ticking...
nice nice nice Christmas.
Four days off in a row, very nice. Relaxing. Lots of TV watching and sleeping was had by all.
For the first time in the history of us, my husband participated fully in the festivities. Yay! best present ever. he went with me and the kids to look at Christmas lights on Christmas Eve. Then we took turns reading the Christmas story from the Bible and sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and had cake. Then we watched WWE from Iraq because we thought Ashley's husband Jarod might be on there talking to one of the famous wrestler guys but they didn't show him, darn it. Then the babies went home to bed and Michael and I snuggled down for a long winter's nap. The babie's came back at 9:30 and we opened presents, again with his maj present and accounted for. Yay! I made a huge breakfast and then Meg went off to Ashley's grandparents house where she gets treated like one of the family-meaning spoiled rotten! She got gifts from Ashley's grandma and her husband and from the grandpa and his wife so she was double spoiled. Plus Ash and her Mom and DJ gave Meg presents too. She scored this year. 6 months of xBox live, $100 gift card to Walmart, not to mention all the crap her dad and I piled on her. Brat.
My personal booty went like this:
My fish tank. A $20 Petco card to go and buy more things for my tank from the kids. An awesome retro Seahawks Biederlack blanket that is so soft and warm and has the original Seahawks colors and a Seahawks pillow that my darling boy made me all by himself in home ec. Prized possession. A very cool teapot that I will probably never use and a totally wicked leather purse that I love love love from my mom-in-law and Mr. G...$20 from my mom and dad along with some jewelry I'll never wear. They also gave me and Michael a roll of paper towels and a Campbells' All In One dinner. Money is a little tight for my folks these days.
So now I'm at work and it's so dead here it's not even funny. I am pulling out my hair with extreme boredom. But I only have to work today and I get four more days off so I can't complain. Well...maybe just a little....
If someone asked me to create a perfect holiday, it would go something like this...sleep late, watch a parade, bake delicious pastries, cook wonderful food, nap, watch "Miracle on 34th Street", hang out with my kiddies, eat, groan, sleep. Oh wait, someone already came up with that holiday.
My fridge is bursting with food, a rarity these days. Mr. Turkey is resting comfortably, blissfully ignorant to his fate. I made the cheesecake yesterday and by Thursday night it will be absolutely perfect and creamy and delicious. Pumpkin pie for the boy and Irish creme truffles for the girl. A tiny one man white cake with white frosting for the old man. Meg is having dinner at Ashley's grandma's house but she'll be over for dinner. She did not want to miss baby Rylan's first Thanksgiving even though if they are lucky he'll sleep through most of it. I have two dozen butterflake rolls that just might be enough to satisfy my roll loving son. All is well in culinary land. You donkey's!
In non-turkey related news, Asotin is headed to Tacoma Friday for the final playoff game of the 2007 football season. If they win they will be returning to Tacoma next Friday to defend their state title. Max is floating on air and at the same time so nervous he can't stand still. We can't make the trip this weekend but plan on going to state, knock wood.
Oh and the piece de resistance...I got my Christmas present early this year...a 40 gallon saltwater fishtank complete with two Nemo-style clown fish and two Damsel fish, neon blue with yellow tails. They are absolutely hypnotic and I can't stop staring at them. I've wanted a saltwater tank all my life and now I have one and I'm ecstatic. The clown fish are called Emmit Kelly and Bozo (the only clown names we could come up with, I said marcel marceau but michael insists that a clown and a mime are not the same thing.) The Damsels are Liz Lemon and Caractacus, named after characters on 30 Rock our current favorite show. Tonight we are going to Bob's to find a crab or shrimp or other bottom feeder who will keep the tank sparkling clean and amuse us with it's antics. The clown fish are awesome, they have this wonderful bobbing swim that looks like they are dancing and already I've taught them to follow my finger along the side of the tank and up to the top for a feeding. The damsels are shy and run to hide in the plants when I approach the tank. RIght now they are all playing a game of tag and Emmit is it. It's so soothing and relaxing and adds humidity to the air. What could be wrong with all that? I always thought it was too expensive and too time consuming to care for a saltwater tank but so far it's been a breeze. Knock wood. I want a seahorse now but have learned that they are happier in pairs and since they cost about $50 a piece that might have to wait. If I had a bigger tank I could have a puffer fish and a shark...so now I'm dreaming about that. Thanks Santa Claus. Delightful...
I love love love XM radio. Have I mentioned that already? Yes, I'm sure I have. We were just rocking out to David Cassidy. Whee...
So those babies came over last night and we decorated the tree at long last. Meg wasn't feeling very well and she forgot to bring "It's A Wonderful Life". We've decided we'll watch it on Christmas Eve instead this year. Meg of course put on the very first ornament, the little snow frosted pink glass ball that was the first ornament we put on my familys Christmas tree each year when I was growing up. There was another one that was red and had a candle shape cut out on one side and a holly sprig cut out on the other that was my sisters but she lost it years ago. So now we put the pink ball on first and then the colored macaroni ornament Max made in kindergarten that has a picture of him, mullet and all, in a blue dress shirt and red tie. It makes me cry every year, he was so absolutely precious it's not even funny and I know I'm biased but too bad. He was the cutest kid in the world. We used that one and Meg's third grade picture that is encased in an acrylic bear shape as the tree topper since I loaned our tree topper to the office this year. Michael hates it, it's silver with a purplish bluish tinge and has feathers and stars on it and I love it but he hates it so out it goes. Anyway, just about every ornament on the tree has some special meaning for me or the kids and I get very emotional every year looking at each one and remembering times and places long gone. God I'm getting old.
Max spent about an hour crawling around under the tree arranging and rearranging our Christmas village. We have 36 houses now plus the skate pond, a gazebo with a band in it, Santa and his bag of goodies in a horsedrawn sleigh, an out of place English phone booth, a fireman with an ax, a girl chasing a dog who stole her scarf, working streetlights and traffic lights and a light up Christmas tree...etc etc etc. This year he added two long strips of fake cobblestones to make a street for Santa's sleigh to go down and we realized we need some cars next year. When he was all done he took a whole bag of plastic snow and sprinkled it all over the village. It looks so awesome. I had to get down on the floor and take pictures of it it's so freaking cute. Fun.
Nice to have both babies under one roof too. That doesn't happen near enough for my taste. But soon the boy will be mobile and he swears he'll come over more often. We'll see.
In exciting news, I've had another story accepted by Family Fun magazine. This one is about sparking creativity in your kids and will appear in the March issue. I wrote about the stage we made for the kids when they were little with a drum set, guitars and keyboards and lights and a sound board. The ex had all that stuff from when he was in the band in Vegas and it was just sitting around gathering dust so we threw a birthday party with a rock and roll theme and let the kids jam onstage and took pics of them all lipsyncing and acting cool. After the party we left the stage up in our basement for hte next few years and all the kids came and hung out in our basement. It was so cool. I wonder if he still has any of it left. I think most of the stage materials went into Max's skateboard ramp a few years later. Anyway, they are paying me $100 for my submission, I just sent in my release forms and should have the money direct deposited into my account by the end of the year. Sweet.
Jules, if your reading this, you really should submit some of the wonderful things you do with your kids. Join the Family Fun reader panel online at familyfun.com and they e-mail you when there is a story idea coming up they need ideas for. THey basically let you write the article and as long as your not a total dweeb they usually print it word for word. ANd pay you. It's great and so fun to see your words in print.
And now I better get busy...
The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my instrument
And his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I’m just a living legacy
To the leader of the band
I am the living legacy
To the leader of the band.
