FUCKIN' FRIDAY!

It's my fuckin' birthday too. What a sucky way to spend a birthday. In pain, in bed and a crazy 8 year to boot.
What's a crazy 8 year you ask?
There is a little bit if a story there, if you really must know.
You really must know now?
It's not that exciting of a story...really it's not.
You still want to know?
Well, you asked for it.

See, when I was about 7, I became intrigued with the idea that I would be alive at the turn of the century. I'm sure some teacher brought up the whole concept, maybe my dad now that I think about it. Whoever it was set in motion a train of thought that still chugs through my mental station every 10 years without fail.
At the tender age of 7 I calculated how old I would be when the calendar changed from 1999 to 2000. The ripe old age of 28-which every 7 year old knows beyonf a shadow of a doubt is ancient indeed. So with thoughts now focused on my inevitable extreme elderliness just 20 short years away I began the process of breaking that up into more managable chunks of time-tens of years rather than twenties-after all every almost 8 year old longs for the day she turns 18 right?
The following 10 years did not exactly fly by but without my planning any great thing away they did fly. At 18-not when I graduated highschool nearly 6 months earlier-I finally felt emancipated and well, officially "grown up" and did what any self respecting teenage girl does...I got in a fight with my mom(just a day or two after "the big day" if I recall) and vehemently moved out.

The following 10 years did not fly by but once again without my planning any great thing away they did fly. I had somehow accumulated a child, a mortgage, two dogs, two parakeets and a lover leaving for China so I did what any self respecting almost 28 year old does and vehemently moved to China.

Fortunately my mom and I had made up by then and though she wouldn't take the greyhounds or(at first)the mortgage she did agree to keep the child for me.

There I was, in China, in 1999 partying like well, like it was 1999 when it hit me...I was about to become old, ancient even. Yup. I was about to be *gasp* 28. Just ask Big Daddy D-I was very traumatised by my 20 year obsession with the number 28 in combination with the number 2000.

The following 10 years did not fly by and still with no great planning I find they have once again flown away. I have some how managed to accumulate a husband, two more children, a couple more dogs, several cats, innumerable fish, three parakeets, a couple of hamsters and another mortgage. I've lost plenty along the way-a child and most of the pets but not(unfortunately) the mortgage and like any respectable now 38 year old, I wonder...

What am I going to vehemently do now?

Sometimes I get bored...

Sometimes I have poor impulse control too...especially when it comes to Sharpies.

I've been busy...

Chasing spiders with a ginornous red truck...

Taking kids to Oreo stacking contests at tiny grocery stores...

Stacking 17 Oreos, the Kid won!

Finding just exactly the Crepe Myrtles covered with Spanish Moss that you might imagine...
When Moms stay up til all hours of the "ahem" morning drinking Lemon Drops the kids will put themselves to bed...

In the recliner...
In the rocker...

And of course the couch...

Some mornings even Opal doesn't want to get out of bed...

Adventuring here...

Looking at Mother Nature's porn...

Aaahing at Mother Nature's cathedral...

Posing for terrible photos...

Taking good photos...

Taking bad photos of waterfalls...

Going down 232 stairs-and then back up...

Observing strange fungi...

Applying "permanent" purple make-up...

Posing for a gratuitous bikini photo...

Saving a snake the size of a linguine noodle from a spider web...

Running from the PoPo cause we were having too much fun...

Laughing with my sister about our horrible dining experience...

Enjoying a small park in a tiny town...

Admiring my artist in residence at work...

Proving that my eyes are blue...

Pondering the whys of crooked trees covered with fur...

Ooooohing over boat shaped houses...

Aaaaaaahing over lighthouse shaped houses...

Checking my bank account to see if I could buy this $1.5 million house made out of grain silos...

Excavating fishy remains...

Observing cousinly love...

And cousinly annoyance...

Enjoying time with my sister at sunset... Being grateful for that one last great day with Loved ones...

I have indeed been wonderfully busy.

The Hangover

(These pics are from my own trip to Vegas three years ago- with my grandma, mom, and my oldest-4 generations on the best road trip ever. No rufies or hangovers here-just an awesome 3 weeks on the road out West!)

No no, I'm not talking about mine-one of which I do not have for the record. I'm talking about the movie which is outrageously hilarious. Thank god we went and saw it on a weeknight well after the opening. I laughed so loud and so hard and talked to all those crazy guys on the screen so much that any other day I would have been politely escorted to the door. The only reason I think I was permitted to stay is that it seems I was saying things the rest of the people were thinking. Don't ask me anymore. All the laughter and the beer and the sex have become jumbled up in my mind and have left me with vague fuzzy memories of just how it all went down.

Just kidding.

The funniest part was... well all of it. Those of you who have seen it know it's true. The capper? As we were leaving one guy turns to his companion and said "I need a rufie" so I turn to him and ask(cause I do indeed feel perfectly free to eavesdrop and then clarify what I just heard with the eavesdropee) "Did you just say you want a rufie?" and he said "Yes, yes I did." Then we all laughed. I bet he goes to Vegas soon.

For the record laughter is not only the best medicine it is also a powerful aphrodisiac. I tell ya, things here go back and forth and up and down (gosh you have a dirty mind-oh wait...that's me) but last night was an excellent reminder of why it is worth sticking out this rough patch.

It is great to be a little drunk, raucous and silly with someone who gets me and enjoys playing with me when I get that way-and I am still not talking about sex...yet. There are many things that we are talking about and working through. Our history, the shared victories and tragedies, the inside jokes, the looks that we understand-all of it- is not something I want to give up or have to start building with someone else.

On to the sex.

Haha.

Some things I will keep to myself.

Lets just say it was hours of awesome crazy fun and that it's a good thing the Big Girl is out of town and that the Kid is a sound sleeper.

I aahhh, have some toys to put away and some laundry to do and then it's off to the gym for another workout.

Catch ya later!

It's F*@#%ing Friday!

Minion #1, in an effort to lesson her debt, sold her hair so to speak. Her friends bet her $50 that she would not bleach her hair blonde. I told her I would do it when she had the cash in hand.

Last night we learned a few things:

A strand test is a good idea but even they lie.

Do not wait til 9 to start the strand test-especially when it turns out you will indeed have to process her hair for the full 90 minutes.

There are reasons people go to beauty school(bleaching out someones hair is hard work!)

Going from black to blonde in one easy step is the biggest lie ever printed on a package.

When it comes down to it the Minion and I can have a good time together.

Raucus laughter from the bathroom is sure to wake up a mildly disgruntled Big Daddy D("It's after midnight! What are you guys doing?!?!")

So here's the new do. She liked it last night.

If she doesn't like it this afternoon-or more likely hates me by this afternoon-I will be moving to Oregon. It's a lovely state.

Manifestation of Desire

I found my necklace!

I have been quietly despairing for weeks now, devastated by its loss.

The necklace I got in Shanghai.

It was in my chair.

What makes it very strange is that I got the chair after the pig disappeared.

So bizarre.

And why this morning was I compelled to lift the cushion and plunge my hand into the depths of this used barcalounger?

The shock and the joy I felt, still feel, upon pulling this necklace from that dark recess is better than any Christmas in recent memory.

My jade pig is once again where it should be!

I wear it to remember some of the happiest, carefree days of my life,

In the hope of having similar experiences in the future.

Wanting to have those feelings now, as I go about my everyday life,

Sometimes succeeding.

My my my, my tattoo...

Okay. Take the two top pictures and then combine the best of both and then place the base of the limb at the inside of my left elbow with branches extending down the inside of my forearm, the tips ending at my wrist. Then imagine that the limb has a fork in it and that the second limb branches up to the outside of my upper arm.

You might have to squint your eyes a bit to get the picture but that is OK. I don't want something too stylized like the first forearm pic, or as dark as the second forearm pic and the branch is going in the wrong direction in each of those. The upper arm tattoo pictured above is altogether too dark and masculine for me but it serves for illustrative purposes.

I really love the loose yet realistic style and colors in the acrylic painting and the stamen detail in the photograph.

So that is the idea of what I want. It will cover a lot of area without being heavy and well, it just feels right.

Cherry blossoms have different meanings depending upon which culture you ask, and all of them are appropriate.

In Japan they represent the beauty and transience of life. In China they represent feminine beauty, strength, and grace. There is an element of remembrance in every interpretation and I like that too.

I am ready.

Because that's what Easter is all about...

Ok, Ok.

I moved the Jesus doll beside the Barbie. They were meant to be together don't you think? Though Barbie may be rooting for the tall dark and chocolate professor on the other side. Or heck, maybe she wants 'em both. She could be freakier than we ever knew. Or maybe it's me that is the freaky one since I took the picture and made up the nice stories to go with it. I will keep my imaginings to myself this time. You make up your own.

I hope you can hear me laughing right now.

I am also enjoying my super clean house right now. Suddenly I feel a little free-who knew that knowing there was dust lurking in corners was weighing me down.

Watching these ladies work took me back to my days working on the dude ranch in AZ. I was a maid there, making beds and scrubbing toilets. Gosh, I was all of 19 when I did that.

Ya wanna hear how I ended up in Arizona? It is a twisty tale so buckle in.

Technically an 18 year old can't run away from home but that is essentially what I did. I was attending a small local college and had recently gotten engaged to a young German fellow who I had realized terrified me. There is a bit of a story there but let's just say if I had gone back to Germany with him I would be typing this from the grave I am sure.

So I did the only thing any sane young woman would do and cleaned out my checking and saving accounts -a whopping $500 I believe-drove to a bus station in a neighboring town dropped my dad's truck keys in the mailbox and bought a ticket to Tulsa Oklahoma.

You guys would have done the same, right?

I had dreams of finding a cowboy and falling in love and riding across the range forever(I had a thing for Sam Elliot-still do-that man's voice well, I'd love to "talk"to him on the phone=} ) .

The romance of youth.

Instead I ended up accidentally leaving my teddy bear and favorite boots in a hotel room-what you guys don't travel with your teddies?

Hush now, I still have a way to go with this tale.

With no cowboys turning up in Tulsa I decided(after only 2 or 3 days)that I needed to move on to a smaller-and cheaper- city. Enter Muskogee Oklahoma, located right outside the Western Band of Cherokee's Nation. If I remember right, I decided to turn my attention to snagging me an Indian boy and hey, I am 1/16th Cherokee anyway right?

It was in Muskogee that I discovered temp agencies and can't tell you how grateful I am for the ladies at Kelly Girls who took me under their collective wings. They made sure I had work and helped me find a safe place to stay. They invited me into their lives and, looking back, watched over me until I found my feet.

Dovey and Carmen, wherever you are, Thank You.

I worked at a Coca Cola plant on the Gatorade line-this was when they still used glass bottles- and have not willingly had a sip of Gatorade since(so glad it wasn't a Dr Pepper bottling facility). I worked at a jelly company and at Bush's Best canning factory. If you are going to buy beans or vegetables in a can-BUY THE MOST EXPENSIVE ONES YOU SEE! Seriously. The Bush brand itself is fine too. I worked a few other jobs there, as a nanny, and also a finisher of furniture at a local BareWood store. I even took a job for a brief period of time as a door to door salesperson selling cleaning supplies and made it as far north as Wahoo Nebraska before I got sick of it and got my free bus ticket home-well back to Muskogee anyway.

All this and no cowboys or Indians!

So once again I did what any sane young woman does and answered an ad from the help wanted section at the back of a Western Horseman magazine. Two, actually, and took the job in Arizona before I had heard back from the ranch in Colorado.

The Circle Z Ranch in Patagonia was and may still be a lovely place. I worked for room and board and $350 dollars a month. It was not an especially hard job and I do have some pretty good stories from the four months that it lasted.

Wow. I think I'll save those stories for another time. It's later than I thought- and even though I don't have any cleaning to do- there is still some supper to think about and get started on.

Yawning Can Be Dangerous

I firmly believe that when it is your time to die it will happen. There is no bargaining, no escaping, no putting it off for later. No matter what you do or where you go, when it is time the universe will make it happen. I joke and say that life is a terminal disease, have fun 'cause no one makes it out alive and by all means enjoy it while you got it 'cause you sure can't take it with you. This belief of mine is not morbid-really it's not. Unless you think finding stories of strange deaths morbid.

Okay, it's morbid-but it's a little funny too. Admit it, you chuckled just a bit. I think I'd rather end up swallowed by a hippo than lingering in a nursing home with my mind mostly gone, a body too frail to move and only habit keeping me here and breathing.

My great grandmother died in her bed at 103, her husband-my great-grandfather ended up strapped to a bed in a nursing home to keep him from wandering (he wanted to go home to his wife, I think it just took him awhile to figure out where she had gone and how to get there-he was 98[yes, she was older than him]). Both grandfathers gone, one -after surviving (and largely recovering from) a catastrophic aneurysm rupture that should have killed him 40 years ago, suffered a stroke and died of pneumonia in the hospital. The other chose to die of cancer and later, his wife, my grandmother chose to starve to death in a nursing home.

Most of these people as far as I know, LIVED. They didn't muck about much wondering why me or what now. My great grandparents planted their garden one year with zinnias because they wanted to see what a half acre of flowers would look like in bloom. My paternal grandparents traveled North America in a camper because they wanted to experience every moment of the journey and every place they went. My maternal grandfather never gave in to his disability and had more fun with his grandchildren than any other man of his generation I have known.

This stuff is on my mind because Big Daddy D's grandmother fell and broke her hip a couple of weeks ago now. She is 94. She won't heal. There is currently no cure for old age or alzheimers. I don't know her, her life. I don't know if she lived.

As we wait for her time to run out here on this earth I just know one thing.

I want to live and do it loud, experiencing every moment while it lasts and whether I end up in a nursing home or a hippos stomach...I know it will end when it's supposed to and I am not afraid of that.

Waking Dreams

I am tired and I am bored and perhaps a bit blah. I read somewhere that being bored was something lazy people say. That there are things to do and boredom is the excuse to not do the things that must be done.
Whatever.
If I was folding the laundry right now I would still be bored. I know this because I have done it ad nauseum. Being busy does not equate to being engaged. Being completely in the moment is wonderful and I have been there, even in the laundry process.
Not today though.
Today I want calgon to whisk me away for an afternoon horse ride, a hike in the mountains, or a walk in the woods. I want to think about what I have read today and wonder about what I haven't.
I don't want to wonder if Baby has once again put a whole roll of toilet paper in the toilet thereby clogging it yet again. I don't want to think about how quiet it's gotten and if I am going to have to rescue some pet or other from Baby's house of beauty. I don't want to be thinking about what new and delightful food to prepare for supper or even pondering the possibility of busting out a tried and true family favorite.

I am tired.

Maybe I should sleep.
Dreams, take me where I want to be.
Or should I wake?
To live where my dreams are.

7 inches

The time for me to make you writhe with envy and possibly turn you against me forever has come. But these pictures are so worth it.


Let me show you what a little over 25 pounds translates to when you are a smidge over 5 feet tall.





First the belt. I bought it over a year ago and wore it on the third hole then. And then one day, I had to wear it on the last hole.


That was in about March.


Wow, nearly a year ago.


Anyway as you know I decided that that was just ridiculous.


Really.


I had made it back to the second hole in the belt (a little tight but hey-I could do it!)when the food poisoning struck back in June.


Since then I have had to tighten my belt past the actual holes and into the flower cutouts.


I was thrilled when I had to do it the first time and let me tell you, moving it to the second set of flower cuttouts a couple of weeks ago, I think I was dancing around the house!


I didn't think to wash that mirror(It's in baby's room) before I started snapping but the proof is there!


There is also proof that I have been pregnant more than once and l wear those marks gladly-proudly even.

And ignore the mess, I have better things to do than pick up after Baby every five minutes.


Like take pictures of my hot self!