Love of My Life

Dryer Haiku
   Your warm, linty air.
   I stand before you  content
   clean scented clothing

My 9/11 Story

  The night before my boyfriend at the time, Sam, and I were out in Jerseydale watching the planets align. In my memory it was Jupiter, Venus, Mars and Earth. We were out late, I think until 2 a.m, before we went home and fell asleep. We had the next day off from our jobs at Nativearth building leather shoes and being total hippies. I woke up around 9:30 and walked over two blocks to the grocery store to pick up a Lunchables Nacho and Cheese Lunch for breakfast. I smiled at everyone I met along the way said "good morning" wondering why everyone was glowering at me. I got back to my apartment, Sam was either asleep still or gone by that time back to his own house, I don't remember, my mother called me and told me to turn on the television. I did and watched as the news replayed the planes hitting the towers over and over again. I didn't know what I was seeing. My mother said "we're at war" and then I realized that Sam had joined the Army 6 weeks before.
    At the time I was more concerned about the fact that my boyfriend was leaving for war than I was concerned for the families of and people in the tower.   
     10 years later. I watch on youtube the towers being hit and falling every few months now. I cry every time.  I think about the families and individuals who lost their lives and were affected by this event. Whatever I feel, I cannot reconcile with the idea that so many innocent people have been killed because of our retaliation. How are we any better than those rotten motherfuckers who did it to us?

The House I Grew Up In

I grew up in a cul-de-sac, a phrase that I learned in 5th grade meant " a sack of coal". The cul-de-sac was inhabited by elderly people: Mr. Lewis with his garden of cactus, Mr. Gordon who ran his finger across bird crap on his car, tasted it, and then said "yep, it's shit", the Voskamps with the brick wall where the neighborhood kids played hide-go-seek behind, and the Skandrups who had the best lawn to play "smear the queer" on.
    The house I grew up in was a modest Ranch House, blue and white, with a juniper bush hedge and a palm tree on the easement just above the house to the East. It was a 3 bedroom house, 1.5 baths. My parents had a waterbed, queen size, where I watched The Monkees, The Last Unicorn and The Ewok movie while riding the ebb tide out in a laundry basket. Their bathroom had a tiled floor and a shower where my mother kept open buckets to catch excess water to hydrate her gardens.
    My brother's room had an overhead fan that he broke the lights out of when he tossed a softball up into it. He also had mirror closet doors that, when he was away at school, I would practice En Vogue's "Never Gonna Get It" with his electric guitar. When I sleep walked I would wake up underneath his desk.
    My bedroom faced out onto the street with a large shrub directly outside the window. The screen of the window was screwed in, something I learned when I tried to run away to live with the wolves. My closet doors were mirrors also; my parents installed them after showing us Poltergeist II (where the ghosts come out of mirrors to steal the children), this after showing us the Poseidon Adventure just before we went on a three week cruise.
    More later, if I'm not too messed up by traumatic childhood memories to continue

Loss

  Yesterday the baby and I hung out with David  "Mother Lode Progressives" Roddy ; we took him to the Pine Grove farmer's market where we listened to the music and bought salad and Habanero Jelly and lavender and then geocached in the next-door cemetery, because nothing says "fresh organic produce" like a graveyard looming over the fruit stand.
     We found the cache at the grave of a little girl killed in 1868 by a gun trap, then we walked around the cemetery while the baby played hoppity hop on the graves and tried to dip his hands and feet into the puddles of stagnant water where loved ones, long dead, are supposed to put fresh flowers. We joked about the names of the dead and discussed where or how we would want to be laid to rest forever.
    Later that night I received an e-mail from someone I love and admire that her father had died.
  Today I brought her a plant and a card and tried not to cry in front of her.
   My second year of college my best friend and I went to a Mormon Dance where I was promptly asked to leave for smoking in the parking lot. My best friend and I drove to the beach and stood in the parking lot staring at the stars, I said "hey, there's Venus, and there's Mars!" and my best friend looked up to the sky, smiled and said "oh, Hello Dad!"
  The next morning I woke up and thought to ask my best friend to have breakfast with me, instead he knocked on my door and told me that his father had died that morning. He had to leave.
    Two years later my best friend and I and his girlfriend held a seance on the spot where his father had died and I now and always will believe in ghosts.
    My best friend and I are no-longer best friends, in fact when we do see each other (which is very rare since he lives in Columbia) it is terse as our lives have forked in drastically different directions: I am married to the love of my life and have a gorgeous child and now have almost nothing in common with him, which needless to say makes conversation difficult "Hey, I haven't seen you in three years, yeah I have a baby and a different life where I'm actually responsible" him: "I've been traveling around the world and have met tons of interesting people and I have no sense of actual commitment" Me: "so, yeaahhhhh,"

Invetory

 What I Have on my Bookshelf Right Now (Besides books)
   as inspired by Naiobe.

• A bottle holding flamingo, spotted owl, goshawk and chicken feathers
• An ostrich egg
• A box painted with stars holding the dried bud of every rose I have ever received. 
• Sculpture of a Horned Lizard mad from glass and burned horse hair
• New-world monkey skull
• several bottles dug up from out friend's yard
• a paper crane
• 2 woven paper matts
• a box in the style of an "oriental" filled with paper
• a bluebird ornament Hman gave me the day the baby was born
• a stack of trivial pursuit question cards
• another box, made of wood in the shape of yin-yang
• a wooden and cloth fan
• a copy of the DVD Billy Jack

Dark Irish

The Ballad of the Wife Left Alone

 Oh, husband, in the land afar, working for reputation, experience and for the requirement of your family
    Come home really effing soon, god damn it
 Seriously, it isn't worth the grief.
 Your betrothed and man-child require your presence.

If It's Saturday, Then it Must be The Rapture

 I regret nothing
well, maybe a few things

• I regret not letting that old man use the bathroom because it was closing time and I wanted to go home
• I regret telling Elana that the reason she wasn't invited to the party was because nobody liked her
• I regret cheating on my ex-fiancee, mostly because it resulted in a two year relationship with the worst boyfriend ever. 
• I regret cheating on my ex-fiancee when he was in Boot Camp
• I regret not finishing my degree and wasting my father's money

See you in hell. 

Marriage

This will be the happiest piece of writing you will ever read in your entire life. Prepare yourself by watching some snuff films or listening to Gary Jules  because the words I am about to type will give you the same sensation as  flying up into the upper atmosphere while at the exact same time experiencing the most mind-blowing orgasm ever felt by a human person.
  I love my husband so much that my everyday life is completely enveloped with the thought of him. He is the sexiest, most handsome, hilarious, unique person I have ever come in contact with. The moment I met him I knew that we were going to be married and have babies.  We are perfect matches.

How to Lose Friends and Alienate People

- Oh my god! Did you hear about that guy who picked up a 15 year old hitchhiker and then he raped her and cut off her arms back in 1978? Yeah , and when he cut off her arms her hands were still grabbing his hands and he had to pry her fingers away from his palms. Isn't that  just awful?!

-I was taking a walk today and there were like 10 vultures eating this dead cow on the side of the road, man did it ever smell!

- When  a chimp attacks  thy will go for your hands and balls. So watch out.

Meeting People is Fun (but not really)

 I was walking with a friend today. It's hard for me to define "friend" because I have a really hard time letting people get to know the real me, so "friend" really means anyone that I have shared any personal information with and that person has not run away in the opposite direction screaming,
   I have a very dark past, and it is difficult to relate to people because of that. I can't speak my mind to most people because they may recommend medication or therapy at least. The kinds of thoughts that I find conversation ready include:
 - All Bon Jovi songs sound the same to me
  -I used to date a guy who paid $50 for a strip of construction paper because he thought it was blotter acid
 - Did you know that some guy in 1948 dropped dead right on this very spot, I read it in a newspaper!
 - My baby pooped in the tub last night and I had to use an aquarium net to fish it out.
  -I'm pro-choice but I would never get an abortion.
  -My neighbor's brother committed suicide by hanging himself from this tree.
   -I love David Sedaris' work because he is a loser and so am I and now he's famous.

  Anyway, I mentioned to my friend that I was weird and antisocial and that I had a hard time making friends, especially with other moms because I talk about weird things. She laughed and turned to me " I think Bon Jovi's songs all sound the same too, I think you're wonderful!" Hence: Friend.
 

Hi, I'm Bruce Meester!

  This afternoon the baby and I were driving to the grocery store when  I realized that we hadn't been for a walk in months. I detoured and we ended up walking down a country road for 3 miles, a walk I used to take every day. I'm glad we did because I found a brand new burned CD on the side of the road. 
   I inserted the CD in the player and listened to a recording of 8th grade student Bruce Meester. He owns a Honda motorcycle that he uses on his paper route which earns $45-50 dollars a month, but his mom has a rule that if he doesn't clean his room he pays her 10 cents for an unmade bed or clothes left on the floor so he doesn't really like that rule. Also his friend got some developing paper for Christmas which he used to develop some pictures of Bruce popping wheelies on his Honda.
   This may have been the most awesome CD I have ever listened to. the first track was Bruce talking about his life and then his 4 brothers came on different times to talk about sports, the fall of Lucifer (seriously, the five year old explained the fall of God's favorite angle) and what they got for Christmas. The rest of the CD, 19 tracks, was soul music.
   I must find this Bruce Meester.

Poor Us

 I have an acquaintance, I suppose. I guess the most you could rank him at is co-worker of a loved one. Anyway after the catastrophe in Japan this acquaintance posted on his facebook page something along the line of "oh great, now gas prices are really going to go up".
   Usually when someone says something assholish on their facebook I hold my tongue/index finger and ignore it. But seriously, what a dick comment.  So I made a comment that belittled him in my passive aggressive sort of way: something along the lines of "yes that is truly the worst part of this disaster".  He replied with an explanation of how he understands how things are "difficult" for the Japanese but that we should realize that our already tanked economy will tank further.
  Yes, poor us.

Hold Thy Tongue Foul Woman

 I have a relative that is in a very bad relationship. The relationship, as far as I know, is not abusive but in its nature has, by accident produced a son . To my relative I am cordial and admire her beautiful son. However, deep in my heart, I hate the mother flipping a-hole that impregnated her and I desperately want to tell my relative that she needs to get rid of that waste of space and raise her son herself because she would be much better off.
  The reason I hate the "father" is nothing casual. This person has no job, drinks all day, smokes his bullshit  "medical" marijuana constantly and has never, not ONCE mentioned his child. He comments on hotboxing his friend's car "HOTBOX ENGAGE"  but ignores the fact that his kid has taken his first step. I also hate him because I had to explain/confess to my mom what "hotboxing" is.
  But I can't say anything, which makes me hate this 'hamburger' even more GHAAAAAA!

Gossip Monger

     So two weeks ago H-man loaded a bunch of crap into the back of his truck and drove off, he hasn't been home since.The other night I changed the locks on the house.
  Oh, the old lady tongues in our neighborhood must be a-wagging. For almost two weeks now no one has said a word to me, this after a year of non stop questions and advice. Nothing. Today I had several different neighbors come up to me and ask how me and the baby were.
  I offer nothing as to the state of my affairs. I smile politely and say "oh, just fine"  I'd  rather they don't know, because, frankly, that's much more fun.
 The Husband has taken on a job for the next few months down South. On his way out of town I had him take a bunch of our excess crap to our storage unit. A few days ago I noticed that our front door knob was falling apart so I went to the hardware store bought some supplies and changed the knob out (that's what she said). Our next door neighbor was trying to be inconspicuous about watching me but as I wrestled the hardware into place (er, that's what she said?) I couldn't help but notice her face staring out from her kitchen window.
  He comes home on Saturday. I propose we have a big screaming match in the driveway before he takes off. But I guess we'll see what happens.

Ah Yes.

• I go to the bathroom. I reach for the TP and realize that there is none there. I turn around and see the unraveled tanglement of TP heaped on the toilet tank. "Oh, that's right" I say to myself, "I have a toddler." 
•  I slip in antipasto and a little bit of banana. 
• I gather stares from people at the supermarket "that's right, I'm hot" I say to myself. Then I realize I have tanbark all over my ass from the playground.

More on That Note

This morning the trash guy came and picked up our garbage. I was lurking behind the venetian blinds watching him go from neighbor to neighbor picking up their garbage cans. As he dumped the trash into his truck I watched him looking at the garbage, monitoring it for offending items not allowed by the higher-ups at wherever he dumps said garbage. As he picked up our can, I felt judged by him and was suddenly concerned that our garbage wasn't good enough. I swear to god that I saw a flash of disapproval on his face.
Later I went to the gym and dropped the baby off at the in-house day care they have. He wouldn't stop crying so I went in after a few minutes and tried to distract him with a teddy bear that I had taken off a table of stuffed animals. A little girl came up to me and said "NO, you messed it up!" and she grabbed the bear out of my hand and put it back on the table. I apologized to her.

Feeling Shitty About a Lot of Things

Like should the "a" in a lot be capitalized, for example.
I feel like such an ass these days. Several weeks ago H-Man mentioned to me that something he can't stand about me (needless to say this made me feel AMAZING to hear) is that I will do anything to avoid making other people uncomfortable, even if that means making myself inconvenienced. My immediate and intensely reactive response was to explain that being polite was very important as I hate all people who don't think about other people's feelings.Literally, I HATE people who are inconsiderate. Just today I was shopping at a narrow aisled store, I was pushing a cart along with the baby in the basket and selecting different items to buy when I came across an aisle that left much to be considered and evaluated. Several minutes into this aisle I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a woman pushing her cart behind us . She nudged closer and closer to us. I tried,oh believe me, I tried to pointedly ignore this lady. All she had to do was whisper "excuse me" and I would have leaped out of her way. But she didn't. She kept on nudging her cart against mine until finally, I gave in and retreated momentarily as she breezed past me smiling and said "Thanks!"
Now I feel shitty. I should have held my ground and said, "Fuck you lady, take a different aisle" Well, I should not have said that but instead have insisted that she be polite and humane. But I didn't, because I let assholes walk all over me. I am proud to say that the exception to that rule is when I am encased in my steel cage called a car and I can be passive aggressive without immediate consequence. But of course those consequences are much more life threatening.

Ex-MTV

A memory:
My momma and I were driving home after watching "Edward Scissorhands" at the Redwood Shores Cinema. I was crying uncontrollably, after all it is a very emotional movie, especially for a 12 year old.
We pulled up to the train tracks that defined our neighborhood and downtown, a train was coming so we stopped. As the bars came down mom turned to me and, with tears in her eyes, said "well, Pearl Jam is on MTV Unplugged tonight so don't be too sad."
That evening I watched Eddie Vedder write pro-choice on his arm and then fall off his stool. I was entranced and in love.
Kurt Cobain's last performance on film was on MTV unplugged.
Now I see that MTV is no longer.
Now we get "16 and pregnant" and "skins"
So what can kids see on tv to expose them to music?

Devestated

In 2004 I traveled to the city of Christchurch to visit my Momma and as kind of a "closure" trip to a very bad and confusing relationship. I walked around the city for a month by myself and drank in all the charm, grace and beauty of that wonderful city. I walked along the Avon river and visited the botanical gardens in Hagely park. I viewed the art museum and museum of natural history. I climbed the Christchurch Cathedral tower and looked across the town and thought about what my future would hold and all the possibilities of life. Most of all I thought about the exciting new man I had just met back home and how I was going to marry him someday. On my last day in town I payed my 2$ and climbed back up that tower and carved into the stone, among the names of 100's of strangers, my love for this boy. I love Christchurch. I left New Zealand with a new perspective on what I wanted and how beautiful this life could be.
Three years later I returned with my new husband and we climbed up the Cathedral tower and I showed him my carving. New Zealand and Christchurch in particular remain in our hearts as a very special place where our love for each other swelled and stretched and as a place where we want to raise our family, it is etched in our hearts just as much as our names in the cathedral are.
Two days ago my mother called me to tell me that there had been a horrible earthquake just outside Christchurch and that the Cathedral spire had fallen, many people were dead. Looking at the pictures of all the damage and devastation took my breath away. The city that I love has been utterly decimated. The spire of the Cathedral, with many dead underneath, lays in rubble on the city square. Buildings all around town are just...gone.
Everyone I know is safe but there are so many families who can't say the same. My heart and mind goes out to everyone in Christchurch and the surrounding areas. I sincerely wish all of you safety and love in this terrible terrible time.

A Town Named Panic/Christchurch

My mother lives in Christchurch. She's okay despite the fact that there was a major earthquake with at least 65 fatalities today.

Just Like Jimmy Stewart

So you have been diagnosed as having Vertigo.
Lucky you! It's like being car sick all the time.
Are you sitting on the couch watching the show "Friends"? Well, add to your bad feelings by having the spins- it really makes Jennifer Aniston that much less enjoyable. Now, instead of just wanting to puke when you see her, you just want to puke all the time.
Enjoy the show "Arrested Development" ? Now you can live the show and fall over randomly just like Lucille II.

A fan of Hitchcock? Now you can be just like Jimmy Stewart and be crippled by horrible dizziness and watch your girlfriend fall from a mission's roof, (that movie really should be called "Acrophobia"
Seriously, I have been having ear aches and the spins for a few weeks now. Our doctor diagnosed me as having Labyrinthitis, or Vertigo. Unfortunately you won't see any small Spanish children running around my head. Except on Thursdays.

Things You Don't Know About Me. Extended

-The first Spanish words I learned were when my mom, step-dad, and myself were driving around Bakersfield listening to "Feliz Navidad"

-I love watching videos of squirrels trying to get into bird feeders. I hate those mother flipping rodents and receive great joy from seeing them falling off a bird feeder to the cold, hard ground.

-I love animals. Yet, I hate PETA. Screw those guys.

How to Excel in Pop Music.

Step 1: Have a song that is catchy.
Step 2: Have a pretty face.
Step 3: profit.

Road Rage GRRRRRRR!

I have what some people would call "road rage". I like to refer to it as "common decency and respect for human life", but you know,I'm crazy like that.
If you are in a car and I am in a separate car and we are approaching an intersection in conflicting directions, and you get there first, by all means, take your turn, goddammit.
If I am backing out of a space and you are approaching from any direction I will stop and let you pass. Please don't flash your brights at me because then I will hate you and complain about you on my blog, and to my husband.
If you are approaching a stop sign, please do so in a manner that traffic that is not required to stop is assured that you will stop, i.e. not speeding up the stop sign/ edging forwards from a stopped position while cross traffic is approaching.
If I am going 5 MPH over the speed limit or more, and you tailgate me, I will not speed up. I will slow down to exactly the speed limit, flip my rear view mirror so I can't see you and turn the music up. It's called passive aggressiveness, and I excel at it. Just ask H-man.
I suppose, bottom line, that people should not behave with their cars in a manner that they would not behave with themselves in polite society.

Oh and How I Count the Ways

He plays guitar. I wake up some nights and he's gone from the bed, but I hear guitar music from across the house, in the empty room at the end of the hall , and I know he's there.
The next day, that song is in our heads and we sing it back and forth to each other.