Sqt's Spare Parts

Oh Yeah. I Have a Blog Over Here

2008-12-26T19:37:00.000-08:00

I have learned something about myself over the last few months. I'm not as good at multi-tasking as I thought I was. I've had this blog sitting around for awhile. I meant to have it as a place to write non-sci/fi related posts but I never really used it that much. Or when I did I used it as a place to complain about my family. As my husband would say--that's not sexy.

In a way it's been a good thing that I haven't wanted to use this page in awhile. In many respects it's because I haven't had a lot of family drama to whine about-- and that's nothing but a good thing. My family hasn't all of a sudden turned normal, that would be too much to hope for don't you think? Mostly they went silent for awhile. We've slowly gotten back into communication, though it doesn't amount to much more than how are you doing? I'm doing fine... But in my world that can be a very relaxing thing-- and it has been.

I haven't given up the idea that I can write posts that are more personal without being depressing, but lately I've been putting those kinds of posts on my sci-fi blog because I've gotten too lazy to keep up more than one page.

But then I got a laptop computer for Christmas. It's pink people! And now I'm looking for excuses to hop on the computer and write something. I don't know if this will be a permanent state (maybe that isn't such a good thing if I intend to have a life).

But as I sit here, in my living room, rocking in the recliner while my husband channel surfs, I'm on my computer. Oh sure. It's no big deal. To you! But I have been chained to my computer desk forever! And now I can move around! Look at me, typing on my counter top! Oh look, I'm surfing the web in my bedroom! I'm typing and sitting in the recliner!

Very nice.

But does that mean I'm going to be using this blog more? I doubt it. I've decided that I don't really feel like separating my personal life from my other blogs anymore. I mean really. Who cares if I keep my personal stuff all neat and tidy and segregated? So I'm throwing caution into the wind and putting personal posts up on my other blog. What the heck. I'm going to live dangerously for awhile. And I hope to see the few of you who come here over on my other site. It'd be nice to see you now and then.

Etiquette and Awkward Situations

2008-09-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

When I think of awkward situations I usually think of silence. You know how it is. You're at a dinner party and the subject of conversation strays into uncomfortable waters. We all know we're not supposed to talk about politics and religion in polite company, but somehow we can't help ourselves and before you know it someone has inserted their foot firmly in their mouth. Pained silence ensues.

I've been in a few situations like that. I've been the source of a few situations like that-- though thankfully not too often.

But what do you do when something really weird happens?

Public outbursts are really awkward in my opinion. I've seen a couple of strange ones at the grocery store. Usually it's a customer that has decided they've been slighted in some way. One time I saw a woman go ballistic because she thought someone cut in line. I stay away from those people.

But sometimes there are situations that you can't gracefully exit from. Here's my personal example. I was at the bookstore last week. I like to wander around the big corporate ones because when I'm done I like to get a chai tea and then sit in the coffee shop area and read a magazine. When I get a laptop I'm sure I'll hang out there even more-- just for the silence. But, let me tell you, it wasn't silent last week.

I did my usual wandering bit and that often involves walking down the aisle toward the coffee shop a couple of times. I noticed a guy sitting right on the aisle-- not because he was remarkable, he was just sort of in my line-of-sight. He was a normal looking guy, wearing a polo shirt and slacks; basic business casual. He had a pile of books and a laptop on his table and seemed to be studying something. No big deal.

So I go over to get my tea and I hear the guy start talking. At this point I assumed he was on the phone. It sounded like he was having a conversation with someone about work and a job interview he'd had recently. Normal, loud-voiced bad cell phone manners. I get my tea and go sit down. He's still talking pretty loudly and I look up to see what's-up; you know, maybe give him a little eye contact and let him know he's talking a little loudly. Then I notice I don't see a cell phone. That's odd. I look to see if he has an ear bud. Nope. Speaker phone? Uh uh.

Apparently he's carrying on a conversation, loudly, with an imaginary companion.

Then he gets up and heads over to the counter. He orders something and then starts telling the cashier his story-- loudly. Something about a job interview. He tells the room that he was the best qualified but that the interviewer didn't see it that way.

I can't imagine why.

As this is going on, another customer makes eye contact with me. A college-age guy was sitting behind our loud talker and starts mouthing to me I thought he was on the phone... I quietly laugh and nod, telling him I thought the same thing. My new acquaintance then picks up his stuff and comes over to sit by me before the bookstore whack-job comes back.

We kind of look at each other uncomfortably and confer over the other guy's behavior. Our conversation mostly consists of do you know what he's talking about? and he's not actually talking to anyone is he? I find out that my new companion isn't from the States and doesn't speak English with total fluency--so he's really baffled. I try to let him know that not all Americans are crazy.

The guy then comes back to his seat. He's facing me and my new friend, so we can't really continue our conversation. Mr. loud talker then resumes his conversation with his imaginary companion-- even louder than before. Everyone in the place is pretty uncomfortable by now.

This is when my danger signals start lighting up. This guy might be totally harmless- but then he might not. We may be seeing this guy unravel before our eyes. I don't know if the guy is schizophrenic or something like that-- though his well-put-together appearance makes mental illness seem less likely. He just seems like someone who has lost his grip and I don't really want to wait around and see what exactly that means.

I feel a slight obligation to the young man who has come to sit by me, but not enough to put myself in personal danger. We kind of trade a few looks, but we can't really talk. I can't concentrate on my magazine, and I'm pretty sure no one else can either. So I decide to bail. I take out my keys and show them to my buddy and he nods. He gets it. He even says, very quietly, good idea. So I take that as my cue and leave.

But I still felt like I should have done something more to make my new foreign acquaintance feel at ease. I'm not sure what I could have done, but I hated the feeling that I was leaving him in a lurch. Maybe he left right after me. I certainly hope so.

I can say for sure that nothing came of that whole bit of awkwardness. There was no news story that day about a rampage in a book store. Thank goodness. But I still think it was good thing that I left. I don't think wanting to be polite is a good enough reason not to heed your instincts in a strange situation. And odd incidents like that remind me that for all of our beliefs in a civilized society, there isn't much more than good manners keeping people from doing bodily harm to each other every day. I mean, think of how often you'd like to smack that rude co-worker, but you don't.

Oh sure, we make snarky comments about people we don't like, but not to their face. Because we're polite like that. And we usually don't carry on loud, one-side conversations in public because that's just weird and it really makes people uncomfortable.

But every now and then someone forgets the rules and the rest of us are left shuffling our feet and wondering what we should do. My rule of thumb? Run.

Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator

2008-09-15T09:00:00.001-07:00

Okay, this is too funny to pass up. According to the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator my name is:

Speck Backfire Palin

That sounds about right....

Conversation Overheard in the Backseat of my Car Today

2008-09-07T01:18:00.000-07:00

4 year old son: Look Mommy, the sun is going down.

8 year old daughter: **eye roll** This sun isn't going down [thinking to herself this kid is an idiot] the planet is rotating...

4 year old son: **looking at sister like she's lost her mind** Look Mommy, the sun is going down.

Me [in front]: **giggling**

8 year old daughter: **exasperated** The sun doesn't go down [you know she wants to say dammit here. You just know it.] the planet rotates!

Me: **snorting**

4 year old son: Oh look, the moon is going up.

Ummmmm....

2008-09-04T11:49:00.000-07:00

Gosh. Should I post about the family again? It gets old but sometimes I need to vent somewhere and this has been a good place for a sympathetic ear.

I haven't heard much from my family for last couple of months. My brother went back to school so he could teach in Thailand and as far as I know he's working. This is a good thing since he won't have to rely on handouts from my parents anymore. I don't know much more than that. I think he and my parents haven't been getting along real well since he's moving again to gain some space from them. At least I think that's what's going on.

So I get an email from my mom a few days ago. I guess she tried to send it a few times but she always sends the emails to the wrong email address (why I'm not in her contacts list I don't know) and she drops a few hints here and there that there is something going on. She says she's happy that my brother is working because that takes the financial stress off of them. (Hellooo, took $100k from him. You should still be giving him money).

And then she says that they won't be able to make it home this month after all....

WTF?

What does come "home" for a visit mean exactly? Was she still under the impression that she and dad were going to be staying with me?

Oh yeah. After I told her that my son and I might have Asperger's she decided that everything I had said to her before was a delusion brought on by my afflicted brain. Or so my brother told me.

So what did I do? I panicked. I freaked out because I didn't want my mom to think that I had an open door policy. I felt like I had to make things crystal clear so that there wouldn't be any future misunderstandings. So I sent her an email that was basically a here's the deal kind of thing. I basically said-- no more lies, I don't appreciate having a potential diagnosis used against me, and if you're going to send me back another nasty email because I'm sticking to my stance of you can't stay with me then don't bother to write.

I didn't cuss at her. It was reasonable. I thought.

Then I get an email from my brother saying why can't we all just get along? Yes, a loving guilt trip from my brother. The one who calls me at 1:00 in the morning to rant and rave about my parents. The one who pokes a stick at the hornets nest and then wonders why there's a bunch of angry insects buzzing around. The one who told me his wife doesn't speak to my mom anymore. Oh, and then he adds a happy little post script that says my mom is "shaking" she's so upset. If I had a dime for every time my brothers had her in the same state while growing up..... But I guess he learned to sling guilt with the best of them and think none of it will blow back on him.

*Sigh*

I sent a reply back to my brother that basically stated the same thing I said above. I told him that I didn't think it was fair that I only get little bits of information here and there and then I'm expected to draw a whole picture from that. I told him that I thought it was b.s. that I have been expected to be the dutiful daughter my whole life but when I finally decide enough is enough and stand my ground I'm made to feel guilty about it. Naturally I haven't heard back.

Thing is, my family has never been particularly loving. **I'm going to divulge a little bit of uncomfortable info here** I was molested by my oldest brother (not the one in Thailand) when I was a kid. I don't remember when it started, I'm guessing around 4 or 5 (I think I've repressed most of the memories, though I have always remembered a few specific instances) and I made him stop by the time I was 9. I never told my mom what happened when I was a kid. I'm sure you've all heard about the shame and embarrassment that goes with this kind of thing, and it's true. But when I was 27 I told my mom what happened because she had kicked my brother out of her house, with his two sons. I was worried about the kids and I wanted to do what I could to make sure that custody was transferred to their mother.

So what does my mom do with that info? She decides to tell everyone in the family what happened -- without my permission-- just to make sure they were good and angry at him and would take her side in the whole argument. Yep. That's my mom. Throws me under the bus no matter what. The subject was pretty much dropped after that. She got what she needed out of it so now we can move forward as if nothing happened.

Between that incident and the way she has turned the whole Asperger's thing against me, I think I'm pretty justified in not trusting my mom. I haven't had this discussion with my brother, but I don't expect him to be particularly sensitive to my feelings. No one in my family ever is. It's been pretty much a life of shit rolling down hill and I'm the one who catches it all.

I feel like I'm at a fork in the road. On one side is my family-- chaos, heartache and pain. The other side is no family-- peace.

How sad is that?

If Sarah Palin Were a Democrat...

2008-09-02T15:48:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you how disgusted I have been of the "coverage" of Sarah Palin over the last few days. I think I had the same reaction a lot of women had when McCain put Palin forward as his running mate in that I thought it might be a cynical ploy to get the Hillary Clinton vote. But then I stood back and realized that Sarah Palin is not Hillary Clinton and it wouldn't take long for people to start focusing on their political differences. What I didn't expect was that the so-called feminist movement is only behind women who have the "right" politics.

Like a lot of people I wanted to know about Sarah Palin. Cynical or not, by putting Palin on the Republican ticket McCain has put a woman in position to take on one of the most powerful offices in our country. It isn't the first time, as anyone who remembers Geraldine Ferraro can tell you. But this has been a very close race. Democrats would like to think that their very polished candidate is going to take the Presidency in a landslide. In most cases the Democrats would be almost guaranteed the office following on the heels of an 8-year Republican administration, but somehow middle America hasn't fully bought into the Obama hype. It may be because Obama said that people who "cling" to religion or guns are "bitter." It could be because his wife Michelle, a Princeton graduate who also has a law degree from Harvard, declared she wasn't proud of her country until her husband was running for President. Maybe I'm bitter, but I remember that statement. Or maybe the Democrats aren't running as strongly as they could because Hillary was such a strong contender that she took the shine off of Obama-- at least for awhile.

Yes, the Democrats have surged after Obama's speech as the convention. And no matter your political inclinations, you have to admit the man can give one heck of a speech. But McCain pulled the spotlight back to the Republicans by picking Sarah Palin as his running mate. After I got over my shock that he did pick a woman I began to think his pick was less cynical than I originally thought. She's no Hillary clone-- not even close. She isn't just conservative, she's staunchly so. I began to think there might be a chance that she would invigorate the conservative base. I began to read stories about her through the online media (Washington Post, New York Times etc.) to see what the general opinion was of her and began to realize something. Feminism only works if you're a Democrat.

I couldn't believe the comments I read about Sarah Palin. They weren't about her stance on abortion-- which I could understand. No, the comments were full of innuendo about the birth of her youngest child. The comments were about her looks and the fact that she had been in a beauty contest at some point in her young life. I read comments by women who referred to her as a bimbo or whore, or worse. I read comments by women who had nothing but scathing remarks for another woman who would dare to seek a career in politics while she had children to raise. Or worse, choose to have so many children. (Don't even get me started on the number of people out there who consider themselves superior by only choosing to have one or two kids but neglect them shamelessly--I saw this often as a teacher) Apparently only Democrat women are allowed to work, the rest of world needs to be home burping the baby.

Then we find out Sarah Palin's 17-year-old daughter is pregnant. *Sigh* As expected, the comments have only gotten uglier (though points to Obama by his classy--so far--handling of the information). Apparently if a pro-life woman has a teenage daughter that gets pregnant, her pro-life stance must be to blame. After all, we assume, she must not have talked to her daughter about s-e-x. I mean, a pro-choice Democrat woman who talks to her daughter about birth control never finds herself in the same position as Sarah Palin. The approximately 520,000 children born to teenage mothers each year must be a result of conservative values gone wrong. Right?

I have a daughter that I have already broached the subject of sex with. I also talk to her about drugs, smoking and alcohol. Does this guarantee that she won't smoke, drink, use drugs or get pregnant? Absolutely not. My mom didn't talk to me about any of those things and I never drank before I was 21, never smoked, never used drugs and didn't have my first child until I was 30. Could I attribute any of those things to my upbringing? I seriously doubt it. Look at the statistics. 4 kids in the family: 2 high school dropouts, 2 high school graduates: 1 college graduate: 2 had children out of wedlock , 2 did not: 3 had (have) serious issues with drugs and alcohol. No wonder my brother calls my mom every year just to tell her that he voted Republican and therefore cancelled out her vote. I'm tempted to do the same thing.

At the end of the day I could care less if people go after Sarah Palin on her politics. If you don't like her stance on abortion, I get it. If you are against domestic drilling for oil, say so and vote for Obama. If you are anti-gun, I'm happy for you. But if you go after Sarah Palin because she is a woman I am going to get pissed off-- more than I already am. Barak Obama has young children and no one assumes he needs to be home raising them. Why can't we make the same assumption about Sarah Palin? Something tells me that if she were elected Vice President, her husband would probably move to Washington D.C. with her and just maybe, take some time off to help raise the kids. Just a thought.

And if you are rabidly anti Sarah Palin, ask yourself this. If she were a Democrat and strongly pro-choice, would all the "feminists" be so hard on her? I seriously doubt it.

As a woman, this whole thing makes me fume.

Just Call me The Winner

2008-08-21T12:30:00.000-07:00

I got an email from that horrible hosting site, Siteground, this morning. They're giving me a full refund.

Oh yeah.

I can be a pain in the tuckus when I want to be and I have been a royal pain to that company for the last three days.

Here's the deal. I've been having template issues. On both my fantasy/sci-fi sites I've had people complain that they can't read my posts because the template hasn't been loading. This has been an ongoing problem I've had with Blogger. Whenever they tweak their site, my blogs get all wonky, people get frustrated and stop visiting. I hate that. I'm not one of your funny bloggers, but I do try to write decent reviews and stuff like that. I put a fair amount of time into them since I have several publishers who have been kind enough to send me free books. I like to live up to the promises I make.

So anyway. I was looking at setting up a Wordpress site. I was hoping that if I set up a blog that has it's own host it wouldn't be in danger of being messed with by a company that it always trying to "improve" its product. But I know very little about setting up a domain and all that. I spent at least a day looking at hosting sites and realized I didn't want to pay over $100 to set up a site I might not want after a month or so. So I opted for a hosting site that didn't require me to pay at least 3 months in advance.

Turns out that wasn't as smart as I thought.

I found Siteground after cruising around and it seemed like a good offer. They showed a whole bunch of Wordpress templates that they offered and they would allow me to pay month to month. Sounded good. So, silly me, I signed up.

I took me less than an hour to realize that Siteground was totally unworkable. First, I couldn't find any Wordpress templates. They had some stupid thing called Sitebuilder that I couldn't even access. When I finally got a technician to help me out (by email, they don't do live technical assistance) I realized that the templates they had were awful. Mostly generic business stuff. So I went to cancel the account. Only when you cancel you have to click on a button that says you agree to certain fee's to cancel. Bullshit set-up fees. Not knowing what else to do, I went ahead and clicked on the cancel button knowing that I was going to dispute the fees since I never set anything up.

What followed was a bunch of back and forth between me and the company. They weren't going to return my payment no matter what. It was in the terms and agreements that I was to pay the fees and that was that.

Yeah right.

I told them that since they didn't offer what they promised (templates, bandwidth, service-- all a joke) that the terms and agreements were not valid. You can't hold me to an agreement when you don't hold up your end. They said nope, you gotta pay.

Oh no no no. I am a tenacious little bugger when I want to be. So I told them I was filing a complaint with the Better Business Bureau and then I told them when I did. I didn't know if it would do any good, but I felt better after filing a complaint.

This morning I got an email from a supervisor saying that while I should have to pay the fees, they were still going to give me a full refund.

I'm thinking the BBB got back to them fairly quickly.

But I feel vindicated.

It's a little thing. The fees weren't going to break me. But I'm a principle-of-the-thing kind of person. I think this company over-promises on its offers knowing that people will quit the service but end up stuck with the fees. I'm sure they make most of their money on the volume of fees they collect. I also suspect that most people don't complain because they don't think the small amount they're charged is worth the trouble. But I disagree. If I think someone is trying to pull one over on me, I get riled up.

But I feel good now. I honestly didn't think I was going to get any money back. When I complained to the BBB I saw about 11 other complaints against the company, 8 of which had not been resolved. I didn't think that was good odds. But who knows, maybe the company didn't want anymore scrutiny. If you could call it a company. I think it's a boiler-room set-up in an apartment somewhere. Seriously.

So now I'm in a good mood and I've set up a contest at my other blogs. Just click on the icons to the right of the page to check them out. I'm giving away some books and I'll send them anywhere in the world if you want them. I believe in karma, so if I give to you I will receive good karma back.

Oh oh oh. I just remembered a good karma moment. I left my wallet at a store last week. Stupid I know. But guess what? They called me and told me that a customer brought the wallet up to the counter. I went to get it, and it had everything in it. Not a thing missing.

Restores my faith in humanity.

I'm going to keep on giving away books.

Don't use Siteground! Ever!

2008-08-19T13:10:00.000-07:00

I've been trying all day to get a Wordpress site set up and made the bad mistake of signing on to a service called Siteground. They suck! I can't figure out how to use it at all and there is no live technical assistance. I decided to cancel and they're going to stick it to me with $50 worth of fees even though I haven't even set up a site.

Don't use Siteground ever!

Old Template not Working

2008-08-18T15:37:00.001-07:00

Gah! I'm so frustrated.

Hibernation

2008-08-09T00:04:00.000-07:00

The Olympics are here.

I love them. I watch them all the time. I will be of no use to anyone for about the next two weeks.

Children? What children?

There's no help for it. I'm a Junkie.

2008-07-29T15:03:00.000-07:00

Yep, back on the diet cola.

I swear, it's like a drug. One swig and I'm hooked.

Okay, here's the rationalization part of the post. I had been doing really well off the diet cola, but I had gotten into a bad habit of substituting wine for the soda in the evenings. Not a good idea if you want to lose weight.

I am a big believer in taking a bath after the kids go to bed. Those Calgon ads were more accurate than they knew. And I like to do it up. I like to have the bubbles, a book and a drink. It used to be that I would take a soda in with me. Not romantic, but a cool drink and a hot bath are a nice combo. But after I stopped drinking soda I started bringing in a nice glass of wine. Nothing wrong with that right? And if I stopped at one glass that would probably be the case. But I always have to have one more when I get out-- you know, to wind down and all.

Those wine calories add up.

Sooooooo. I bought a litre of soda, just to have a bath time. And I hate to say it. But it's been a good thing for me. I've lost weight and probably two inches off my waist in the last two weeks. I must've been drinking more wine than I realized. Gosh, I'm a lush.

So here I am. Back on the soda, but off the wine.

But all may not be lost. I hear Diet Coke is going to start using Stevia instead of Splenda or Aspartame. That should be better, right? I hope so. I've actually had the Diet Coke with Stevia before when I was in Japan and it's tons better than what we have now.

I hope Diet Coke switches over. I'd like to feel a little less guilty.

Sort of a good news, bad news, good news.. kind of thing

2008-07-24T00:39:00.000-07:00

Let me start with the good news. I took my son to the neurologist this last week and the first thing he said to me was "your son is definitely not autistic."

I like this doctor.

I wasn't actually too worried that my son would be diagnosed autistic. Despite the fact that Asperger's is considered on the autism spectrum, there seems to be some controversy over whether or not it should be considered an autism-like disorder at all. So all I was really worried about was what the doctor saw as a long-term prognosis for my son-- which apparently is very good.

The doctor said my son is too young to really evaluate for Asperger's, and since I have a couple of traits my son probably will too. But-- and this is what really won me over-- the doctor said "there is too much right with this boy for me to be worried about him."

Sweeeeeeet!

All I have to do at this point is make sure my son gets speech therapy and take him back to the neurologist in 6 months to monitor his progress. The doctor said the diagnosis could change over time, but he didn't think it would get worse-- only better. Words a mom likes to hear.

Okay. The bad news. My nephew calls me a few days ago. That's a good thing. I didn't have his number and had been wanting to hear from him. He's a good kid. He's 16, mellow and seems to be on the right track. His brother on the other hand....

This is where I get a pissed off for a bit.

My other nephew is in jail. Now, as bad as that is, that's not what I'm pissed about. My jailbird nephew (son of my jailbird brother) is 19 years old and has been in and out of jail for the last year (3 times I've been told) and I didn't know any of this. I also didn't know that he dropped out of school his Sophomore year (almost 3 years ago).

How is this possible you ask?

Because my mom is a liar. A chronic, bald-faced liar.

My mom spun me a story awhile ago about my nephew being in juvenile hall. Oh, he was in juvie, but that's all I ever heard. To hear my mom tell it, my nephew went back to school and everything was hunky-dory. WTF?

I remember asking my mom over the last year if she had had my nephews over to visit before she left and she always said she was too busy or too tired or whatever. I asked many times about those boys and not once did the subject of jail come up. I think I would have remembered that.

Why? Why lie? I don't get it.

So I guess my nephew is following in the dubious footsteps of my brother. The one I haven't seen for over 10 years thanks to his meth habit. Oh man. I hate hearing this kind of stuff.

So I'm going to end this post on a happy note.

My new couch came today.

I talked my husband into a sectional couch that is just gorgeous. It's not super trendy, but it is micro-fiber so I don't have to worry about kids and pets. It's soooooo soft and cuddly. We ordered the fabric so it's not the cheap micro-fiber that's stiff. It's like a baby's butt. Is that a good description? I don't care. It's soft. And it has a corner with my name on it.

My husband... kind of like Costanza

2008-07-14T13:28:00.000-07:00

My husband is a great guy. I've mentioned him several times on my blog and I think we can all agree he got more than his money's worth when he married me. And not in a good way.

But like all people he has some strange quirks. That's okay. I think a big part of staying married is finding someone who's quirks you can live with.

So I'm watching "Resident Evil" the other night (yeah...I know) and my husband walks in during a scene in which Michelle Rodriguez is on the screen and asks "is that Denise Richards?"

Me: Blank stare.

Hubby: "What? Isn't that Denise Richards?"

Me: Looking at the TV screen to verify that the channel hasn't changed on it's own. Nope. Still Michelle Rodriguez on the screen. "What are you talking about?"

Hubby: Looks at TV again. "What? She looks like Denise Richards."

Me: "What planet are you from?"

I go through this kind of stuff a lot with my husband. There are times when I know we're wired differently and we will never see eye to eye on some things. However, he can't take all the blame--even on my own blog.

The thing is, I'm really literal. I mean really, really literal. I've mentioned before that I think I have Asperger's syndrome, and without belaboring the point too much, a super-literal mind is characteristic of the syndrome. Or maybe it's just me. I don't know.

Anyway, my husband is a goof-ball. Non-sequiturs are a big part of his everyday conversation. He likes "Seinfeld" to the point that he will insert quotes from the show into a conversation at will-- much to my confusion.

Just recently I was reading a book about Asperger's and trying to explain something to my husband about the syndrome when he suddenly pipes up "You're like George Costanza! You've got to do everything the opposite of the way you've been doing it your whole life!"

I literally started crying.

It took my husband about ten minutes to convince me that he was, in fact, kidding. He did not win any points for sensitivity that night.

And then it occurs to me that my husband is actually the one who could be compared to George Costanza. Throwing out an inappropriate comment is not that unusual for him. I threw a birthday party for him a few years ago and invited a ton of people. We were playing pool and hubby was playing a game with a female co-worker, Michelle, who has become friends with us over the years. Anyway, my husband missed a shot and ended up setting up Michelle perfectly for her next shot-- which she made with ease. Then hubby decides to pipe up and say, really loudly, "Oh sure, you always like my sloppy seconds" thinking that would be funny. Needless to say, every eye in the room looked at him in a slightly horrified fashion. My jaw dropped and just as I was about to whip out a can of whup ass on my husband, Michelle walks up to me, pats my arm and says, "don't worry, he knows not what he's saying..."

And you know what, she was right. He had no clue that "sloppy seconds" had a potentially offensive meaning, like this funny article I found, or that maybe it's not a good idea to say the phrase, loudly, in front of a lot of co-workers.

I think I've managed to rein him in a little though. I've tried, mightily, to get him to think before he speaks-- not an easy task. I haven't been embarrassed in front of a large crowd of people in months, so I think it's working.

The View Outside My Front Door

2008-07-10T12:46:00.000-07:00

~I actually have this on my sci-fi blog too. The smoke is so overwhelming that it's all I can post about right now...

Okay, I have to do it. The smoke here has been crazy today. I tried to take some pictures while out driving, but it's hard to drive and take pictures-- and I don't recommend trying. So the picture here is the best I could do. I don't know if you can tell how hazy it is, but let me tell you this. It was about 2:30 in the afternoon when I took the picture and about 103 degrees. We have no clouds in the sky-- just smoke. It kind of looks like a cloudy winter day.

The other picture you see here is right off my front porch. I took it at about 7:30 in the evening. I was hoping to catch a really red sun today, but it wasn't as bright as it has been on other evenings. Normally though, you wouldn't be able to look directly at the sun, especially as it was just going down. But this shot is just as it looked from the naked eye.

I wish blogs came with smell-o-vision so you could smell the smoke too. It smells like I'm directly in the path of a campfire.

I promise. This will be my last smoke related post.

Just pray there are no floods or earthquakes in my future.

10 Year Meme

2008-07-04T00:05:00.001-07:00

I'd say I'm sorry I haven't posted in awhile, but since I think only 4 or 5 people visit me here, it's probably not a big problem. I get it though. The family drama can get to be a bit much can't it?

But it has simmered down a bit. Thankfully. And in a weird way it leaves me at loose ends.

What on earth do I write about? I'm afraid I'm not that interesting without my dysfunctional family to gripe about. I did paint my toenails a very interesting shade of blue today though...

Fortunately Full Throttle Steve has saved me from the topic dilemma. He tagged me for a meme.

What were you doing ten years ago?

This is actually a very easy question to answer. Convenient timing too. I got married on July 18, 1998 and my 10 year anniversary is in two weeks. I was in the final stages of planning my wedding. The wedding had been a minor nightmare because my mom decided that my wedding needed to be an exact replica of my brother's. She had gotten into a weird competition with my brother over who made more money and who could spend it the most unwisely (see, I can fit family nonsense into any topic). Anyway, my mission, at the time, was to restrain my mom from turning my wedding into an out-of-control production and I have to say I think I did well. I wasn't really interested in having a big wedding, but we still ended up with 150 guests (many of whom I did not know) but it was very nice. Hot too. It was 108 degrees on my wedding day. Thank goodness we opted for an indoor wedding. Too bad the air-conditioning broke. We had a lot of sweaty guests. But they ended up happy since we had an open bar.

Five things on your to-do-list today.

Well, since it's the 4th of July, we're definitely going to light some fireworks. After that, I'm not sure...

Plan something yummy for dinner with a good dessert for a hot July holiday.

Maybe take the kids swimming (the gym pool is open part time today).

Fold the laundry. Which I %^$#*& hate.

Read.

What would you do if you were a billionaire?

First, do a happy dance.

After the obvious stuff, buy the dream house, car etc... I'd make sure my family, even my parents, were taken care of. Then, I'd try to think of what kind of Bill Gates' kind of charity thing I could do. Though I wouldn't plan on giving it all away.

What are three of your bad habits?

Oh boy, where to start?

I can be very cluttered. Thank goodness my hubby is a bit of a neat freak, he keeps me in line.

If I'm not motivated to so something it may not get done. I don't know if it's a lazy thing or a procrastination thing. I need momentum to get through the day sometimes. And lot of caffeine.

I stay up way too late.

What are some snacks you enjoy?

Brownies. Apples and peanut butter. Red peppers and ranch dressing.

What are the last five books you read?

Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

The Four Forges by Jenna Rhodes

Stray by Rachel Vincent

Before They are Hanged by Joe Abercrombie

Fablehaven by Brandon Mull

What are five jobs you've had?

Grade school teacher.

Cocktail Waitress.

Associate Producer (television)

Title clerk for auto wholesale company.

Advertising sales & freelance writer for small newspaper.

Where are five places you have lived?

We moved a lot when I was a kid, but mostly in California. Let's see, in Ca I have lived in Palm Dessert, Palm Springs, Corona Del Mar, Irvine, Costa Mesa, Fair Oaks, Granite Bay, Roseville and Rocklin.

Klamath Falls, Oregon.

Osaka, Japan.

Who am I going to tag?

No one. I think everyone who comes here has already done this meme.

Everything is just simmering

2008-06-24T01:15:00.000-07:00

Well, the family stuff has died down a bit. Thank God! My parents are supposedly "starting fresh," whatever that means and I think they're going to be selling some stuff to be able to pay my brother back some more money.

Isn't is nice when your parents try to do the right thing once in a while?

But I haven't been too stressed about it all. Nosiree! I tried a different strategy over the last two weeks for dealing with my family.

Nothing at all.

Yep. I didn't do a damn thing. When my brother first called me, I felt like I had to do something. Right now! I always react that way when my brother ambushes me. I don't know if it's the late hour of his calls or the urgency in his voice. Either way, he always gets me worked up.

But my husband recommended that I not do anything right away this time. He said that it really wouldn't make any difference and just because my brother drops a bomb in my lap every couple of months, it really isn't my problem.

My husband is a wise man.

So I let it lie. And you know what? The world didn't fall apart. My family figured things out for themselves-- sort of, and I didn't have to pull my hair out worrying about it.

I could get used to this.

I haven't heard from my mom in a couple of weeks, even though I asked her about selling some stuff for my brother. But he knows about it, so I'm not going to fret.

I'm going to learn how to chill out. And when my mom, or my brother, decide to get me all worked up again, I'm going to remind myself that they are in Thailand-- and too far away for me to do anything that can affect their situation in the near future.

Remind me of this when I get freaked out next time.

Picking my child's friends

2008-06-19T14:27:00.001-07:00

*Sigh*

I feel like a heel. But I don't really know what to do about it.

My eight year old daughter made a friend at school this year. A very very obnoxious friend.

This kid drives me up the wall. It started kind of slowly. She would walk home with us occasionally and one day she pipes up... So, how come you don't let your daughter have Bratz dolls? Just 'cause you don't like them!? My mom's nice and....

That's as far as she made it before I let her know that I wasn't going to change what toys I allowed in my house because some random 8-year-old objected to it.

It's been rapidly deteriorating ever since then.

Her mom invited my daughter to go on a play-date with them and I said okay. I met the mom and she seemed nice enough and they we're going to be close by. The mom did mention how glad her daughter was to make friends with my daughter since she'd had a hard time making friends since they'd moved to the area last year-- that was the first warning sign.

Anyway, we traded play-dates a couple of times until my daughter mentioned that while she was at her friend's house, the mom had been letting the girls play out front without any supervision.

What the hell? Did I miss something here? I don't remember being asked if I was okay with my daughter playing outside unsupervised. Maybe I'm over-protective. But my kid is only eight and not a big eight-year-old at that.

I found this out just before I was to take my daughter over to their house for another play-date. So, as nicely as I could, I told the dad when we arrived that I wasn't comfortable with my daughter playing in front of the house without an adult present. Just as I say that, their 12 year old daughter pipes up....oh, I was going to take the girls to the park today to play. Is that okay?

What!? Are you kidding me? You were going to send my daughter to the park, with only a 12-year-old to watch over her, without asking me first? Are you f***ing kidding me?

So, as angry as I was, I held it together and said that I preferred that my daughter be watched by an adult. Needless to say, I haven't let my daughter go over there since.

But this isn't going away quietly. This kid. This obnoxious child. She calls my house at least twice a day. They live right down the street (an argument for never letting your child play with neighborhood kids) and she shows up on my doorstep unannounced at all hours of the day and night. I've had to tell her not to call my house late at night and that we would prefer she not show up on the doorstep without calling first--especially after dark.

We tried to tell our daughter to try to make some other friends at school and not hang out with this kid exclusively. With those instructions, my daughter walks up to her at school one day and proclaims.. I can't be your friend anymore. Ouch! I said to make other friends, not rip the kid's heart out! Of course, that day we had this little girl on our doorstep, leaving notes and breaking my heart. Of course, once we realized what our daughter had done, we told not to be that harsh and we had to back-pedal a bit just to make sure our daughter didn't turn into some heartless wench. ((My daughter could care less if she plays with this kid. She's okay if they do get together, but not bothered at all if I say no))

But now it's summer and this kid won't leave us alone. I'm getting calls everyday and she keeps trying to get my daughter to come over to play-- when hell freezes over.

I don't know what the deal is with this kid's parents. I don't know why they let their daughter run all over the neighborhood they way they do. I don't know why they let her make us hostages in our home.

For the time being I'm pretty much not answering the phone. I know it's childish, but I keep hoping this kid will lose interest if no one gets back to her. I've tried to gently talk to the parents, but them seem kind of oblivious. You'd think they'd get the hint when we pretty much cut off all the play-dates, but they don't.

Somebody please make this child leave us alone.

Oh the karma is a bitch! Updated

2008-06-16T23:46:00.000-07:00

Okay. I am so sorry I keep posting family stuff here. I really am. But I kind of feel like this bit of family drama is more in the nature of gossip.

Is it wrong to gossip about one's mom?

My brother emailed me tonight and said mom and dad are fighting and that my dad told my mom he was done with her and she might as well find someone in the States to live with.

Oh snap.

The most amazing part is that I haven't heard from my mom. That's right. She hasn't come begging at my door.

I am in shock and awe.

Personally, I doubt my mom will leave my dad. A big part of the reason is because I'm not sure anyone here will take her and she has no money. Well, other than what she can take from my dad's social security-- and that isn't much.

I'm kind of on pins and needles waiting to hear from my brother. He'll probably call me next week. At two in the morning.

**Update**

I heard a little more from my brother last night. My mom apparently decided to tell my dad how she really feels and she let loose with a barrage of you're a loser and a prick and my life is ruined because of you. So then my dad asks her if she told me that she was the one who turned down the offer on the house?

Boy. My mom will walk a thousand miles to avoid responsibility for anything won't she? My dad has screwed up a lot but I suspect she's laid a lot as his feet that he isn't responsible for. I bet the main reason my brother is struggling financially is because my mom is the one who insists on staying in the hotel.

Oh well. Not my problem. She's not living with me. Knowing her she'll find a way to suck up to my dad and smooth things over. For her sake, she better.

Why does my family have to live in crazy town?

2008-06-10T09:44:00.000-07:00

Every two months or so, my brother ambushes me with a phone call. It's usually at 1:00 in the morning or some equally heinous hour. I don't know why. He just thinks he can do that because I'm his sister. Unfortunately he's right. I'd hang up on pretty much anyone other than him.

((Quick aside: my son just ran by carrying his Transformer blanket singing the Transformer song "Transformers...more than meets the eye..." He's making a fort in the living room. Cutest thing I've ever seen.))

This is the brother who lives in Thailand. Up until recently I thought he was living with my parents but I guess they've decided to live in a hotel in a nearby town. Apparently my mom likes room service.

When my brother gets mad his phone calls are kind of hard to decipher. Also, there's the added difficulty that his phone calls from Thailand are made on a phone card that usually runs out after six minutes or so. So his conversation comes at me in machine gun like bursts. I mean, he goes! I only hear from him every couple of months so he tries to cram as much information he can and it's pretty overwhelming. Let me tell you.

It goes something like this.

"Theresa, OMGwheredoIstart?Youcan'tbelievehowbadmomanddadarebeing.TheyaresuchassholesThey'respendingallofthemoney.Ihadtohockmyweddingringandmom'sbraggingabouthavingroomservice.They'rethemostworthlesspeopleever!

After about two minutes my head is exploding.

I'm so glad my family is half a world away. Although in a perfect world, my brother would come back and my mom and dad would stay in Thailand.

That may be what happens next.

I don't know the whole story, but then I never do. I did get a fairly nasty email from my mom a few weeks ago after I told her that I thought it was b.s. that they didn't pay my brother back and I was a bit bothered by the fact that they paid to store a bunch of clothes she didn't need while leaving behind all the art projects my brothers and I had made as kids. (you know, the little ashtrays and flowerpots kids make in second grade to give to mom and dad? Though I doubt anyone makes ashtrays anymore) Anyway, she sent me back a bile filled note full of denial and guilt. Pretty much what I expected. So I sent her back a note saying that my son and I have Asperger's and I can't deal with any of her b.s. right now. Surprisingly she then sent me a very nice note full of motherly love. That really shocked me. More than the mean note. Until my brother tells me that now my mom is telling everyone that I'm mad at her because I'm autistic and I don't know what I'm saying. I'm too addled to know what's what.

Now that's the mom I know and love.

So, since my parents are in the process of well and truly screwing my brother I'm selling the few items my parents asked me to hold for them so I can send the money to my brother. Oddly, I feel guilty for doing this. I've never been one to go against my word and I feel weird in doing something that seems so blatantly "screw you." But if my brother has to hock his wedding ring to buy food and my mom is gloating that she doesn't have to clean up her room because she has room service, I guess I can sell a couple of things for my brother without guilt.

Man, my mom's email is going to be really bad now. Maybe she won't talk to me anymore. Now that's something to hope for.

Ebay Issues

2008-06-02T08:01:00.000-07:00

I put some stuff up on Ebay over the last two weeks and I have come to realize that I am more obsessive compulsive than I had previously realized.

I cannot walk upstairs without turning on the computer to check my auction. I can't walk in the house without walking directly upstairs to turn on the computer to check the auction.

Right now it's a very good thing I don't have a laptop.

And I can't just look at the listing to see if the price has gone up. (Currently I am patting myself on the back because I have an actual-- no wait! 7 actual bids on my item. I'm on fire). I have to check the number of hits I have gotten. (93). and then I have to go to my "selling" page and see how many watchers I have. (14).

My auction ends tomorrow night so you know I will be sitting there, at the last minute, watching to see if there is a bidding war. It was rather exciting the last time. The two people who were competing over my last item didn't enter their last minute bids until there were only 14 seconds left to bid. That was a nail biter for sure.

I so need to get a life.

Hope You Don't Mind If I Have a Private Moment...

2008-05-28T22:56:00.001-07:00

This has been an interesting week. To say the least.

I mentioned, a couple of posts ago, that I have been potty training my son and that, at 4 1/2, he is a bit late in his training. I love my son, more than words can say, but I have not been blind to the fact that he hasn't been on the same track developmentally as most kids his age. I have brought it up, from time-to-time, with his pediatrician and was usually told that I was "over-comparing" him to other kids. I knew better than to accept that from the pediatrician, but I let it lie for awhile. I didn't want to deal with the elephant in the room that most parents don't want to deal with.

Autism.

This word carries so much weight these days. We hear about it a lot. We hear that the numbers are on the rise and we hear about celebrities like Jenny McCarthy that they too have kids with Autism.

God bless Jenny McCarthy. At first I denied that my son could have Autism because he seemed to function so much better than the stereotypical Autistic child. I remember watching "Rainman" and thinking the sort of idiot-savant that Dustin Hoffman played was what Autism was all about. That can't be my son I thought, my son hugs me, he tells me he loves me. He comes running to me when I come home from the store with a loud "Mom!" and a big hug. How could this child have Autism?

And then a funny thing happened. I started reading about it and I discovered a neurological disorder on the Autism spectrum called Asperger's Syndrome. And an even funnier thing happened. I realized that not only does my son have virtually all the criteria that would garner him a diagnosis as having Asperger's, I do as well.

I've always felt like a square-peg in a round-hole world, but I always found things to blame it on. I was adopted. I went to 11 different schools from kindergarten through 12 grade. Of course I was socially awkward. But the thing is, even in a safe environment, away from social situations that can leave me in a horrible state of anxiety, I'm still not what you might think of as normal. I look normal. I can pass for normal. I can hold a job and go to parent-teacher conferences relatively well. But if you and I were having a face to face conversation, I would have to force myself to look into your eyes. I do this because it's what I've come to believe is expected of me in social situations but I don't "get" why I should do it. My son is the same way.

When I go to a party with my husband I really get stressed out. I've never been able to read people very well. I tend to run on conversationally and have a one track mind that is staggering in it's focus. I cannot go-with-the-flow conversationally because my mind will stay on whatever track I started on and will not shift gears unless I make a conscious effort to do so. I tend to be blunt but think of myself as "honest." I don't mean to hurt other people's feelings but since I am not naturally tactful I do sometimes. I don't like to be touched (which drives my husband crazy) and can't stand loud noises of any kind. If I'm in a room full of people I will go into sensory overload and have to leave to spend time by myself. I usually stay up late every night just to be alone.

I could go on and on but I think I would bore you. The point of all this is that despite my personal diagnosis of Asperger's, I've managed to do okay. I have been with my husband for 13 years despite my social retardation. Most people would never, ever, dream that I suffer from a form of Autism. Thank goodness.

In a weird way I'm glad I have Asperger's. I would prefer that my son didn't have it, but since he does I think I am uniquely qualified to help him navigate through a world he won't understand. I can't give him enlightenment, but I can give him a few coping mechanisms. I would prefer that I didn't have this genetic mutation to pass on to my child (Asperger's generally runs in families and often the adult sufferer will be diagnosed at the same time as the child) but I can't help what has already happened.

The one thing that gives me hope is now I know why I am the way I am. I now know why I have a hard time relating to people and prefer the companionship I find among the blogging community. I don't need to read facial expressions here. All I have to do is read the words on a page and I can do that. I can also stand as an example to my son. I can say to him, I graduated college. I got married and had kids. I know how to love even if I don't know how to express it. I know what it is to be you, and you're going to be just fine.....

For more information on Asperger's Syndrome, THIS is an excellent place to start.

Six Unremarkable Things Meme

2008-05-21T17:54:00.001-07:00

Avery tagged me with this meme, and it appears that for this meme I'm supposed to come up with 6 uninteresting facts about myself. There are rules to this meme, not all of which I am going to follow... but I'll list them here.

* Link the person who tagged you.
* Mention the rules in your blog.
* Tell about six unspectacular quirks
* Tag six bloggers by linking them. (I have fewer than six regulars on this particular blog and I'm sure most of them have already done this meme)
* Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged. (read comment on previous rule)

Frankly I could come up with so much more blandness.

But I will limit my list to the six that I am supposed to limit it to. You should be grateful.

1. I'm not a naturally tidy person. My house is usually pretty clean because between my husband and I we get the chores done-- but I hate doing it. I never rebelled as a kid and I think my messy room was the only form of rebellion I felt comfortable acting out on. I hope my kids are just like me.

2. I sneeze when I see bright light. I can walk out into the sunshine or just look into a light bulb--I'll sneeze every time. My kids both do this too.

3. I am profoundly without rhythm. I didn't know what an 8-count was until I was on drill team in high school. I never learned how to play any musical instruments so rhythm has been quite the mystery for me most of my life. If I'm a crowd of people who are clapping to the beat, I have to watch everyone else so I am not the person clapping between beats.

4. I am a dress-for-comfort person. I have learned over the course of my life that I will abandon style for comfort any day of the week. I think Crocs were sent by the hand of God (or Shiva, or whomever) just to sooth my feet. (Though I did buy the cute little pair above--in two colors-- so I wouldn't look like I had duck feet all the time) I try to mitigate this by making sure my hair and make-up are as nice as I can make them. But I only wear heels for really dressy occasions. I think the last was my wedding. I can, however, walk in heels. I always feel a little sorry for women who look like they're walking on their tip-toes while wearing heels. Or walking on glass. I feel their pain.

5. My toenails are currently painted purple.

6. I went to school in Japan and got a minor in the subject in college but don't speak the language at all anymore. While I was there I realized I would never want to live or work there so I never bothered to keep up my conversational Japanese. It hasn't been a problem either.

So that's it. I'm not tagging anyone specifically, but if you'd like to do the meme, consider yourself tagged.

The Fame Bubble

2008-05-19T00:06:00.001-07:00

Whenever I try to think of posts for my blog, I often muse on different fantasy & sci-fi topics. I'll often scan the news trying to find some sort of real-life story as a tie-in on my blog. Those are some of my favorites.

But I realized I have probably missed one of the most obvious fantasy tie-ins ever in my year-and-a-half of blogging.

The Fame Bubble.

That's right folks. If you haven't heard of The Fame Bubble, then you don't watch enough Kathy Griffin.

The Fame Bubble is a term that Kathy has given to the strange little fantasy world that celebrities live in. You know what I'm talking about. The world that somehow convinces celebrities that they can give their kids names like Apple or Banjo and somehow the fame they enjoy will insulate their children from all the insults any child of a lesser person would experience.

The Fame Bubble must be a happy place, don't you think?

Imagine for a minute if you got to live in The Fame Bubble............

You would never have to consort with the common rabble ever again. If you need new clothes, the store will shut down for you-- and probably give you most of your clothes for free! You want to to to Magic Mountain, they'll close the park for you so you never have to wait in line. (Just ask Mariah Carey) Never will you have to watch a movie that doesn't have a red carpet and an entourage-- at least as long as your Fame Bubble is big enough that is.

Having children in the Fame Bubble is a totally different experience than that of the rest of us plebes as well. Naturally every part of the pregnancy will be covered with appropriate reverence and if you're a first time mom, no problem; the doctors will be more than willing to schedule you a C-section so you don't have to go through any unnecessary pain, or messy labor. Of course, once your perfect child comes into the world, appropriately named Huckleberry or Credenza, he or she will be on the cover of every magazine on the planet-- scoring you no less than $6 million a picture.

Working in The Fame Bubble is something completely different too. I do hear from time to time that the hours are a bit long and that the hard working celebrities may have to lounge around in their opulently appointed trailers, while suffering through manicures and hair extensions, while waiting for their scenes to be shot. But I suppose the $20 million dollar paycheck does compensate one a little bit for that hard three months of work.

Normal rules of decency can be completely ignored in The Fame Bubble too. It is perfectly acceptable to flash one's privates in any venue and clothing may be see-through for most major events.

Getting into shape need not involve too much work either. Regular visits to the doctor for regular liposuction will keep those pesky love-handles at bay. And if the personal chefs, trainers and lap-bands don't do the job, air-brushing will be used liberally.

In The Fame Bubble, you are the center of the universe. People do hang on your every word. Whole legions will be devoted to the perfection that is you. You will have fan clubs and blogs that follow every significant event of your life. No one will fail to notice that new hair-do, I promise.

Maybe I'm being a little hard on those who live in The Fame Bubble though. I mean, the fame bubble does come with all the annoying paparazzi. I mean, who needs to deal with all those cameras while you're stumbling drunk down Sunset Blvd six days a week? Jeez, some people are so judgemental. And if one wants to have a tirade on a talk show and tell all the women in the world that they're evil for taking anti-depressants for postpartum depression, shouldn't one be able to do that without all the little people thinking they ought to have an opinion? I mean really, Scientology does have all the answers.

The Fame Bubble says so.

Do we really believe this guy?

2008-05-13T13:19:00.000-07:00

You may have seen this video before. It's been on MTV for awhile and I noticed a lot of people are talking about it on the net. But I can't help it. I must know what you think.

If you haven't seen this, the video is of a man who claims to be straight, but does gay porn for a living. Don't worry, this video isn't graphic. It's from the MTV show "True Life."

I gotta say, I don't believe this guy can be straight. I don't care how much money he makes. There's no way a guy can have gay sex and not be attracted to men. Is there?

This guy (I think his name is Aaron) says he makes $5000 a shoot and does about 8 a month. That is a whole lot of money. But still... I wouldn't do it.

But is it a gay thing or is it a moral issue? I don't have anything against gay people-- that's not what I mean by moral issue. For me, having video of myself out there having sex would be the main problem-- I really don't need my kids ever seeing anything like that. But there is less of a stigma for women having gay sex isn't there? For the record, I have never been one to "experiment." I don't know when girl on girl action came into vogue, but I certainly never felt any desire to make out with a girl. I guess that's why I have a hard time believing this guy is straight.

I'm not attracted to women and frankly, no amount of money is going to change that. I'm not coming at it from a moral angle. Really it's just a matter of desire. I don't want to grope another woman and I don't want to be groped. No offense. But I prefer men.

So I'm baffled by a guy who claims to like women but will have sex with men for money. Isn't that a bit drastic? I know he wants to have a nice lifestyle and all, but my goodness. That's like selling your soul to the devil isn't it? Especially if he's being honest and he really truly isn't attracted to men. Suppose for a second that he is telling the truth. How does he turn off his normal instincts to complete the act? Drugs? Alcohol? Denial?

I really don't get it.

Happy Mother's Day

2008-05-10T23:32:00.001-07:00

I'm taking it easy today. Hope you are too......

Missed the Emergency Room... Barely

2008-05-08T23:13:00.001-07:00

Thanks for the kind replies on my last post. I don't mean to keep venting about my parents, but man, they make me crazy.

My mom hasn't emailed me back either. No big surprise there.

So we just got back from Disneyland and mostly it was a good trip. Better for me than my husband. The poor guy got food poisoning. We don't know what caused it, but neither me nor the kids got sick so it was obviously something only my husband ate.

I hope I never get food poisoning. Let me tell you, it's ugly.

My husband started feeling sick on Monday morning, which was our first full day at the park. We had taken the kids to the Electric Light Parade on Sunday night (which they looooved) and while I took my son back to the hotel room to put him to bed my husband and my daughter went to see the Fantasmic Light Show. They got back to the room around 11:30 so my husband was pretty tired after driving all day and then staying up so late. On Monday morning he wasn't feeling too well, but assumed he was just tired.

We got to the park as it opened on Monday and headed over to the Finding Nemo ride. If you haven't been to Disneyland lately, be prepared to wait in a long line for Nemo. It doesn't have a fast pass and every kid wants to go on it, so at best, you'll wait 45 minutes. Poor hubby wasn't too sure if he was up to it but stuck it out and we made it through. After the ride I told him to go to the room and get some sleep and I'd meet him back there in a couple of hours. My kids were really tired too, so we didn't hit too many rides before they wanted to go back to the room and rest.

I thought for sure hubby would be rested and well by the time we got back but unfortunately that wasn't the case. He was lying on the bed, pale as can be and in too much pain to sleep.

At this point I wasn't really sure what to do. I wasn't sure how sick he was so the only thing I could think to do was take the kids to the pool so he could have a chance to rest some more and hopefully sleep. We went through this cycle all day. I'd take the kids out for an hour or two, hoping hubby was finally getting some rest, only to come back and see he was in worse condition. I won't go into the gory details, but his body was definitely purging something at this point. By the time evening rolled around, I was just trying to keep the kids away so they wouldn't be alarmed.

This is my worst nightmare when it comes to being away from home. My son had an ear infection that had me taking him to the Emergency Room about two weeks before we left. I kept telling my husband how lucky we were that it happened before our trip so we didn't end up in the hospital while on vacation. And now I was faced with a sick husband without knowing what was wrong and should I take him to the hospital. Monday night was a bit nervous for me and hubby but we decided to wait and see how he felt Tuesday morning. I had already decided that if he didn't feel any better Tuesday that I would take him to the ER.

Let me tell you, my husband is one heck of a strong guy. After a miserable, pain filled day, he was up Tuesday morning ready to take the kids to Disneyland. I couldn't believe it. If it had been me, I would probably have been down for a week. But not my guy. He was so funny too. He kept telling me he wasn't 100%. He'd give me a run-down during the day saying he was about 70% or so. By Wednesday he assured me he was feeling at least 80% of normal. He even drove home.

Luckily my kids didn't even really know anything was wrong. They knew Daddy wasn't feeling well but we managed to keep them out of the room while he was really sick so they didn't have a clue as to how bad it was. So they got a trip to Disneyland and they get to remember it as a happy one. Not one spent in the Emergency Room. Thank God.

I am in awe of my husband.

Wow, no matter how far away they are, they can still screw things up for me

2008-05-03T12:13:00.000-07:00

So I get an email from my mom this morning.

Ugh.

I get about one email a month from my mom. Generally they don't say much. I've gotten more info about what's going on with her and my dad in Thailand from the one phone call I got from my brother. But this time she decided to ask me why I haven't sent pictures to her.

The last email she sent she asked me to send pictures, specifically of my house. No mention of the kids. Naturally, I was suspicious. I figure my dad wants to see pictures of the house so he can pick out their bedroom. So without saying anything I just didn't send any pictures over. I did that because the whole non-acknowledgement thing is my mom's strategy. Whenever I ask her something she doesn't want to answer, she just ignores the question. I thought, okay, I'll do the same thing and put her on the spot. If she wants to know what's up, she's going to have to ask. And she never does that.

But she finally did. A day before we leave for Disneyland. Great timing mom.

So I had to tell her what's what. I had to tell her the stuff I found out about after they left. I had to tell her that I was offended they paid for a storage unit to store her clothes but left behind the stuff my brothers and I made for her as kids. I had to tell her that I'm not letting them stay here if they come back to the states.

This sucks.

I hate being in the position of having to lay all this out. I hate having to send off that email and potentially leave without knowing what kind of a reaction she's going to have to it. I hate that I will probably be mulling over this during my trip to Disneyland. I want to enjoy myself and I don't need any more of their B.S.

Why do my parents have to be such shits?

I Think it Would be Easier to Change the Name of the Island

2008-05-01T13:34:00.000-07:00

I swiped this link from Furiousball

Lesbos islanders dispute gay name

Campaigners on the Greek island of Lesbos are to go to court in an attempt to stop a gay rights organisation from using the term "lesbian".

The islanders say that if they are successful they may then start to fight the word lesbian internationally. The issue boils down to who has the right to call themselves Lesbians.
Is it gay women, or the 100,000 people living on Greece's third biggest island - plus another 250,000 expatriates who originate from Lesbos?

The man spearheading the case, publisher Dimitris Lambrou, claims that international dominance of the word in its sexual context violates the human rights of the islanders, and disgraces them around the world. He says it causes daily problems to the social life of Lesbos's inhabitants.

Injunction sought

In court papers, the plaintiffs allege that the Greek government is so embarrassed by the term Lesbian that it has been forced to rename the island after its capital, Mytilini. An early court date has now been set for judges to decide whether to grant an injunction against the Homosexual and Lesbian Community of Greece and to order it to change its name.

A spokeswoman for the group has described the case as a groundless violation of freedom of expression, and has pledged to fight it. The term lesbian originated from the poet Sappho, who was a native of Lesbos. Sappho expressed her love of other women in poetry written during the 7th Century BC. But according to Mr Lambrou, new historical research has discovered that Sappho had a family, and committed suicide for the love of a man.

Jeez. Some people are so sensitive.

Disneyland

2008-04-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

Oh how I love Disneyland.

We're taking the kids next week and I am stupid excited. We haven't been in four years since we took our daughter there for her birthday and I think I'm more jazzed than the kids.

My son has never been so he doesn't have a point of reference. He's kind of excited but I don't think knows why. My daughter is kind of excited too, but she's torn between being happier over going to Disneyland or missing school. Understandable.

Disneyland is one of those memories for me that has never been sullied by anything unpleasant. Even arguing over who got the last E ticket (for those of you who remember those) can take the shine off the Magic Kingdom. I remember going on Space Mountain as a kid and being dazzled by the stars glowing in the darkness. That was my favorite ride for a long time. Now that I'm older I appreciate the Pirates of the Caribbean more. Who needs all the twists and turns of a roller coasted when you can watch the pirates chase the pirate wenches -- though now they've made it PC by having the wenches carrying platters of food so delicate minds won't think salacious thoughts.

Oh and the light parade. I used to love staying up late and watching the light parade. We're driving in Sunday and we're going to take the kids to see the parade once we get there. My daughter was a little scared of it the last time we went. I remember her being bothered by the snails that would drive around in circles. Hopefully she's forgotten that by now.

Sadly, my daughter isn't into the Princesses anymore. They're too babyish for her now. Fortunately she is replacing the Princess fixation with a healthy appreciation for Jack Sparrow and frankly, I can find no fault with that.

So here's looking forward to walking our legs to the bone, standing in lines and getting sunburned in the happiest place on Earth. I can't wait.

Sunny template gone, but this is cool...

2008-04-26T12:58:00.000-07:00

Just me. Messing around.

Oh this is sunny, isn't it?

2008-04-25T23:42:00.001-07:00

I found some new blogger templates and I'm messing around, as you can see. I like this one. It's all sunny and perky.

Anyway. Don't be too surprised if the blog looks different each time you come here. I may switch to Wordpress if I can't find a template in Blogger I like. So I'll be experimenting a bit.

Change is good though. Right?

Wow, is it time for my weekly post already?

2008-04-24T23:32:00.000-07:00

My, how time flies.

I've had a pretty good week, though sometimes it's hard. I really hate using my blog as sort of a pity party, but I just can't help myself. So today I decided to start writing in a journal to kind of vent all the nonsense that's been building up in my head.

I wrote 28 pages today.

Aren't you glad I decided to inflict that on a journal rather than you?

I must say though, it's one of the best ideas I've had in a while. I used to do this when I was a teenager. High school is such an angst-ridden time anyway and whenever I had additional stress, the only way I knew how to express it was to write in a journal. I don't know why I haven't done this since then, but I think it's high time I rediscovered it.

But I feel good. I feel like I had a long talk with an understanding, non-judgemental and very patient girl friend, who just happens to be one hell of a good listener.

I'd forgotten how cathartic writing can be. I think anyone reading this understands what I mean. We're all bloggers right?

There is something fairly egotistical about blogging-- not that there's anything wrong with that. At least for me it is. I have humble expectations, but at the same time I like to think that what goes on in my head is relatable to someone. I'm not the funniest blogger by a long shot. But like a lot of people I lay my humanity out there, with all its warts and wrinkles, hoping to connect with someone who "gets" where I'm coming from.

I'm working on being less damaged and needy. I'd like to be able to have a conversation without laying my life story at someones feet hoping for commiseration. I don't feel like being that pathetic anymore.

But still, 28 pages in one day. I have a lot of junk rattling around in my head don't I?

But hey, tomorrow's another day. Maybe I'll only write 14.

Next step. Channeling all that writing energy into writing a friggin' book!

Last Minute Mom Stuff

2008-04-18T08:53:00.000-07:00

I feel like this blog is my neglected child. I have two other blogs that focus on sci-fi and they take so much of my blogging time that I never seem to have the chance to use this personal blog. I suppose that's just as well, I have had a tendency to be too maudlin over the last few months and no one really wants to see that. Heck, when I read personal blogs, I prefer the funny stuff. I just wish I had better comic timing.

I'm yawning all over the place today. My daughter, who turns eight on Sunday, decides to remind me last night at 9:30pm that she needs cupcakes to take to school today. Doh! I should have remembered that myself but it slipped my mind. Well, almost. I thought of it last night before she reminded me but I thought, I can do it Monday, that's closer to her birthday anyway. But second graders don't think that way. The class celebration must be prior to, or on, the actual birthday. So, not wanting to be the mom who shafted her kid on her birthday I schlepped myself up to the store, got supplies, and was up to about midnight making cupcakes. Oh well, it's all for a good cause. She may not remember as she gets older that I made her cupcakes for school, but she sure as hell would remember if I didn't!

She's a good kid though. I would've probably been kicking myself if I hadn't done it.

Not to get maudlin again (sorry!) but my parents have been known to forget my birthday. Not too much when I was little, but that's kind of hard when you have an 8-year-old reminding you every other second that their birthday is 2 days and 6--- no 5 hours and 45 minutes away. But there was this time when I was 10....

I'm not entirely sure they forgot my birthday but I think they did. I didn't get any birthday presents that year. My mom and dad gave me a card saying that my dad was going to build me a swing-set for my birthday. Bwahahahahahahah! I knew right then and there I'd never see the swing-set. My dad is not exactly a master builder. He put up a fence once and forgot to put in a gate. It was funny. We had this massive yard and my dad built a fence around the downstairs sliding door so we'd have a place to let the dogs out. But you could only get in and out of the yard through the slider since he forgot the gate. But he was so proud of that fence. It wasn't straight, but he built it.

I never asked my parents about the swing-set. I knew my dad wouldn't build it, but I also knew that if I pestered him enough to actually try, I'd end up with something sure to break my neck, so I let the whole thing lie. But I still think they forgot the birthday and tried to come up with a last minute promise so I wouldn't think they forgot. Wouldn't be the last time.

I wonder if my brothers had this happen to them too? I've never asked them and I probably won't. Why bother bringing up something that will just end up in a bitter conversation? (I know.. I know... why do I do this?) But in a way I'd like to know I wasn't alone in being a little forgotten.

Okay, I gotta shake this off. I don't want to be a downer. It's just I think of this stuff when my kids birthday's roll around. I know women have looooong memories but I suspect we all do when we're kids. And I sure as heck don't want my children to remember that I forgot to think they're important on their birthdays. I would deserve to be smacked for that.

Damn! Those Catholics are Good at the Guilt

2008-04-11T08:23:00.000-07:00

I wonder if I should title this "us" Catholics, after all, I was raised in the church, confessions at 7 years old and everything.

Is it a sin to confess to something you didn't do just so you wouldn't waste the priest's time?

I thought I got away from the church though. I lapsed myself out of going to church, saying confession, lighting candles, rosaries and crossing myself. And I don't miss any of it.

But my husband has been feeling the guilt.

We haven't baptized our kids. I don't mind so much because I really don't believe that splashing some water on my kid's heads is going to make a damn bit of difference on where my kids will go when they die. (hopefully many many many years after me) But it's wearing on my husband so out of respect for his feelings (fear) we'll be baptizing them.

The church is a pain about the whole thing though. We had planned on getting our daughter baptized right after birth but the local church wanted us, and anyone who would be the godparents, to jump through some serious hoops. I remember classes were involved. Needless to say it didn't get done because no one we knew (relatives included) could do all the stuff the church demanded.

We're in a new area now and we'll be looking into the Catholic church out here to see what their demands are. What a pain.

I'm pretty comfortable with stepping outside the church and baptizing my kids in a Christian church of pretty much any denomination just to get it done with, but I bet my husband is going to insist on doing it the Catholic way. In most cases this wouldn't be a problem since I usually do everything. But I've been dragging my feet on this one and my husband so hates to do anything himself, so the process has been seriously stalled.

Why am I doing this? I'm not precisely sure. I don't have any problem with baptizing my kids, I just don't really buy into the biblical version of how I should live my life. I already do so many things the bible doesn't approve of, what's one more? I don't believe gay people are bad or evil, so I'm already cherry picking my belief system and the bible doesn't like a lot of the cherries I pick.

Does this mean I don't believe in God? Not necessarily. I just don't believe in the biblical version of God any more than I believe in Zeus. I can't disprove God exists so I guess I'll leave the option on the table that he could exist and leave it at that. Mostly I prefer to live my life according to the Golden Rule. You remember that don't you? "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Good words and ones to live by IMHO. I try to be ethical. I return wallets if I find them-- unopened (have done this), try not to lie (this should be easy but sometimes the "does this make me look fat" question has no tactful answer) and generally try not to curse or cut people off in traffic-- but no one is perfect.

Anyway. No Catholic guilt for me. I leave that to my husband.

Sad Day

2008-04-06T23:41:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite people in the blog world has lost his father. If you get a chance, do me a favor and go by Furiousblog and say a kind word or two. He is one of the funniest, smartest and nicest people I have had a chance to "meet" online. I think once you see his blog and read his posts you'll agree.

My thoughts and prayers are with you Van.

Science and Fiction

2008-03-31T22:59:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry for more stolen content from my sci-fi blog. But I though the one or two people who come to this blog might get a kick out of this post....

Dear Blog

When I started you about a year and half ago, I gave you a theme. I gave you a title and called you Fantasy and Sci-fi Lovin' and I've tried to stay true to you-- to the best of my ability.

But I had something of an epiphany today. At the gym.

Science fiction occurs in real life. Yep, it surely does. I know the "fiction" in the title would make it seem impossible, but I'm telling you, I see science and fiction together every single day I go to the gym.

Exhibit #1

Don't get me wrong. I totally admire the dedication it takes to get this physique. And maybe I'm a tad cynical, but I just don't see this body happening on a woman without some serious scientific intervention. Now, I don't know who this woman is, and I don't want to accuse her of using steroids if she hasn't in fact used them. But something tells me her voice is a tad husky.

Exhibit #2

This is another sort of science fiction I also see everyday at the gym. This woman is also apparently a famous female body builder, though I chose to focus on other....er....assets. I think it's safe to say that without the intervention of current medical advances, this woman's rather impressive rack wouldn't otherwise be possible-- not to mention gravity defying.

Exhibit #3

Oh jeez, I apologise for this. I really do. Some works of science fiction should remain a mystery. I promise, dear blog, to go back to my regular subjects tomorrow and leave the real world out of it. *shudder*

Brave New Frontier?

2008-03-27T00:17:00.000-07:00

Another post pilfered from my sci-fi blog....

I have to admit, I'm kind of flummoxed by this story I read today. A transgendered man is pregnant with a baby girl and due to give birth this July.

Wow.

This gets my attention for a lot of reasons. I'm not particularly judgemental about straight-gay issues. I pretty much figure I have no business worrying about someone else's sex life. I don't even particularly care that a woman might decide to become a man and then have a baby. Whatever floats your boat.

What does get my attention is the medical intervention required to make this possible and the question of whether we may be messing around with Mother Nature a bit too much. According to the article I read in the Times Online, Thomas Beatie (formerly known as Tracy Lagondino) underwent gender reassignment surgery that involved chest reconstruction and testosterone therapy, but chose to keep his(?) reproductive rights (in other words, all the internal female organs).

The mind boggles.

The article mentions that Beatie stopped taking testosterone therapy and was able to conceive through artificial insemination without the need for additional hormone therapy. There is some concern that the baby could be affected by the testosterone that has been injected into his system over the last ten years since his ovaries and eggs have been exposed to the abnormally high levels the whole time. At this point I admit, I have a hard time thinking of Beatie as a "he" since I'm writing about eggs and ovaries, but legally, he is a man.

As I sit here writing this I do wonder if I have the right to judge the decision Beatie has made. I'm a little uncomfortable that this story makes me squirm a little bit. I like to think I'm open minded and I do think it's very brave of Beatie to come forward and talk about his story. His is married and his wife is unable to have children, which prompted his extraordinary choice to conceive.

At the same time I wonder at the things we, as humans, decide to do sometimes. I know a woman who used a method called MicroSorting to ensure that her last child would be a girl. I'm amazed, and yet appalled that we have gotten to the point that we are now choosing the gender of our children. I know-- I shouldn't make that kind of a judgement. But jeez, how much of a control freak do you have to be to go through that much trouble to make sure your kid is the proper gender? All I'm saying is that I can't say that only choosing to keep the male child has worked all that well for the Chinese, so maybe we should leave some things up to nature (or God if you prefer) to decide.

At any rate, science is allowing human beings to take remarkable liberties with our reproductive choices and I'm not sure what I think about it. One the one hand, I have friends who have beautiful children they wouldn't have been able to have without In Vitro fertilization and I can rationalize that as a good use of science. But can I argue that they are more deserving of a child than Beatie? Mostly, I'd say no. But there may be issues with the health of the baby Beatie is expecting due to his previous hormone therapy and I must admit, that makes me a little less open minded about his decision to conceive.

That said, the baby is on its way and I hope for a healthy happy child.

Happy Chocolate Bunny Day

2008-03-23T01:18:00.001-07:00

Oh the Humanity

2008-03-17T08:18:00.001-07:00

I don't know about you, but I'm a believer in always learning as you get older. Not only should we strive to learn new things, but I think it's important to learn from our mistakes. That seems like common sense, right? Most people think that way don't they? Well, maybe Elliot Spitzer hasn't learned that lesson yet, but we should try at least, right?

My parents don't seem to think so.

Sometimes I wonder how they managed to keep a roof over our heads. I mean, I really really wonder.

My brother called me a few days ago. He made the token effort to say I ought to call my mom. I made the token effort to agree, for a second or so, but then I started thinking about the manner in which they left and my voice started getting higher and higher and my brother finally told me why he really called.

Even brothers need to vent.

First, you should know, my brother is the worlds most easygoing guy. He invented the word mellow. I mean, you'd have to be incredibly calm to lend someone $100k, not get it back, and then let them live with you. Me? I'd be in jail by now.

So once my brother calmed my tantrum down he started to tell me what it's like living with them on that side of the world.

Basically, nothing's changed.

My parents arranged to have their social security and my dad's disability checks sent over there and that's what everyone is living on. Fortunately the American dollar goes a long way in Thailand so they have more than enough. Of course the standard of living isn't like the U.S., but it's not bad. But my mom, who I remember as never being satisfied by anyplace we ever stayed at, is already wanting to move to a house on the beach. That's my mom. Even broke she wants the best of everything.

I guess the IRS also caught up with them. My dad hasn't paid taxes in years so the IRS has attached their money, but they're not really taking that much (especially considering how much they likely owe). There is a loophole though. The IRS can't take any money if you're making less that $20k -something a year-- I can't remember the exact number. So my parent's accountant is supposed to send a statement to the IRS showing my dad hasn't worked for the last few years. Of course my dad uses that as added justification as to why he can't work.

But get this, my parents are still spending all their money. My brother is going nuts. He's trying to keep them on a budget but they want to have everything and they're being insanely lazy. My mom was supposed to get her visa renewed but she didn't in time so now they're going to have to pay almost double-- which is just stupid since they had no reason not to get it done. They are the laziest people you can imagine. But the worst part is that they're withholding money from my brother. I am so disgusted by this. My dad is acting like he has the right to dole out the money on his whim even though he owes my brother more money than he could ever pay back. My sister-in-law and my mom went to the store to buy food and my mom was being super cheap about everything (she's only cheap when she's not spending on herself). So Yui (my sister-in-law) tells my brother and he asks my dad what's going on. Turns out my mom wants to go to Bangkok and spend the night in a hotel. So my dad tells her fine, don't spend money on food so they can splurge on a night out for themselves as the expense of my brother's family. Nice. These are the lovely people who raised me.

I'm sorry I keep belaboring this, but it's the story that never ends. Just when you think it can't get worse, it does.

There is a little bit of black comedy in this though. My mom and dad bought some sculptures about 15 years ago that I swear they thought were going to be their retirement. They had this 300lb marble angel that they told me they paid $10k for, but has a $30k appraisal. They also had a bronze sculpture that had an $18k appraisal. I kept harping on them for the last year to sell this stuff. They're broke and need the money, right? And I couldn't figure out why they just sat on this stuff. So when they left I told them I'd sell it and send the money to them. After talking to my brother I decided I would send the money to him though-- and I told him that on the phone. So the next day I got in touch with Bonhams and Butterfields in San Francisco. They're a very old, very prestigious auction house. I talked to a wonderful man with a very sophisticated British accent (my mother would have felt very chichi doing this) and he told me their stuff was basically worthless.

I'm sorry, but this is funny. My dad is one of those guys who thinks he can never be taken by anyone. Used car salesman, remember? If anyone pays $1000 too much on a car he'll give you hell and tell you that you "got your head ripped off." And laugh at you. Seriously. But the thing is, my dad is the biggest sucker for a good sales pitch. He's the guy who buy crap stock because some guy he met on the airplane said it was good. He buys stuff from people making calls from a boiler room.

The thing is, I always thought the appraisals on their stuff were suspect. They were written up by the same company that sold the items-- which has subsequently gone out of business. They misspelled words on the appraisal-- that should be a clue shouldn't it?

So my parents thought they had a 19th Century piece of art that turned out to have been made in Mexico about 30 years ago. They thought it would be worth more than $30k and I'll be lucky to get one thousand out of it. Yeah, that sounds about right. The other piece, the one that's supposed to be worth $18k is worth about $500.

I felt bad at first because I thought I wasn't going to be able to send my brother anything. But all may not be lost. My parents left 4 pieces of art by Peter Max (on the living room floor for anyone to take no less) that are signed and authenticated. Those might actually be worth something and my parents don't even know I have them. If I can get something for those that will go directly to my brother so he can recoup something out of this mess.

So my husband has more stories to tell at work and I have more material for my future therapy sessions.

Sorry for unloading again. But jeez, my parents are crazy. I wonder if they have alzheimer's.....

The Verdict so Far

2008-03-12T23:52:00.000-07:00

I think it's been about 3 weeks since I've had any diet coke and I have to say, I have formed some opinions on the subject. This is by no means scientific, it's just me, not drinking diet cola or consuming any artificial sweeteners.

I think I'm really glad I stopped.

What prompted me to write this post tonight is that my left knee isn't hurting. That may not seem like a big deal, but I am so used to accommodating a sore knee that I almost don't know what to do without it. It's kind of a shock to sit in my chair and not have to contort my body in a way that doesn't stress my knee. I also tend to have chronic pain in my right shoulder that seems mostly absent these days. I've read that one of the side-effects of drinking carbonated soda is joint aches-- I think I believe it.

Now I'm sure the diet cola addicts are still sucking up their aspartame and shaking their heads at my new-agey silliness. But I think I'm on to something here.

Normally when I try to lose weight I have two problems; appetite and sugar cravings. Since I've ditched the diet cola, those problems have almost disappeared. That isn't to say that I never want any chocolate, but it's a lot easier to eat it in moderation right now. I've also been able to incorporate a lot more veggies into my diet without feeling the need to go back and demolish the leftovers from dinner.

Baby steps.

I don't weigh myself because scales are deadly to me. But I have lost an inch off of my waist, so I'd say that's progress. I'm still lifting weights and doing cardio six days a week too.

I'm not trying to say that I think going off of the diet cola will make your weight melt off. Goodness knows it takes at least twice as long to get off as it came on. (If you haven't ever watched "Supersize Me" by Morgan Spurlock, you should. He gained 25 pounds in one month of eating nothing but McDonalds food. It took him 4 months on a strict vegan diet to lose 20 pounds and another 6 to lose the last five-- so don't expect overnight results) I can't stress this enough to anyone trying to lose weight--with or without the diet coke-- be gentle with yourself. Don't expect overnight results.

I've decided I'm going to give this whole diet-coke-less thing at least a year (though I'll probably never drink it again) just to see what kind of a difference just changing one thing can make.

If you don't mind, I'll post regular updates. This works for me as kind of a journal I can use to keep track of my progress and note the changes I feel in my body. Hopefully I can encourage some other people to try this experiment with me.

If that sounds interesting to you-- One trick to not drinking soda is simply switching to something else. Some people have luck with tea but I wanted something cold. So I drink a tall glass of water and juice; 3/4 water to 1/4 juice. I avoid juices with artificial sweeteners and the high fructose corn syrup. So far the juice/water combo works well for me.

Tell me what you think? Anyone else tempted to leave the diet evil?

Who Would Make Your 'Laminated List?'

2008-03-06T22:36:00.001-08:00

I have this post over on my sci-fi blog but it's a good fit here too...

I was watching New Amsterdam this evening and decided I have a new crush. The star of the show, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, is hawt! I've also realized that I seem to have a particular type when it comes to the men I drool over. Maybe I'm the only one who sees it, but he reminds me a little of my main celebrity-crush, Hugh Jackman.

Anyway, thinking of these hot men reminded me of an episode of "Friends" that created the cultural phenomenon of the Laminated List. The urban dictionary defines the list as:

A list of the top 5 people, usually celebrities, with whom you could have sex with without repercussions, if the opportunity arose, regardless of whether you were in a relationship or not.

A woman's laminated list might be:
1.) Mel Gibson
2.) Brad Pitt
3.) Colin Ferrel
4.) Pierce Brosnan
5.) Russell Crowe

C'mon, don't tell me you've never considered who'd be on your list.

The funny part for me is that beyond Hugh Jackman, and now Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, I have a hard time coming up with a solid list. Well, okay, add Daniel Craig-- then it gets hard. The final two. Hmmm. Let me think. Brad Pitt? Good looking but not rugged enough. Jamie Bamber? Very good looking but I think he may be short. Orlando Bloom? Cute but too young. Justin Timberlake? Ditto. Jake Gyllenhaal? Ditto. Johnny Depp? Very nice but I like a man to look like he bathes once in a while. Harrison Ford? ...That's a tough one. But I seem to really favor men closer to my own age. Clive Owen? Ooooh, definite possibility.

So you can see my dilemma. It's hard to nail it down isn't it? So I guess my list -- so far-- would be.

1. Hugh Jackman (he is my first love)
2. Daniel Craig (Bond. Need I say more?)
3. Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Sigh)
4. TBD
5. TBD

Now it's your turn. I'd like to know who you'd put on your list. I'm not going for sci-fi people either. Just those people who'd make your top five. Maybe I'll get some good suggestions...

Diet Evil

2008-03-03T09:17:00.000-08:00

I'm sure I've mentioned in past posts, since I can be a bit obsessive-compulsive on some subjects, my struggle to lose weight. I'm not talking about a ton of weight, but enough to bother me.

Ever since I had my first child I've struggled to lose weight. I was always thin prior to having kids and it has bugged me to no end that I can't get my svelte physique back. My obsessive nature has seen me exercising up to two hours a day and eating virtually nothing--with no results. I knew something was not right from the get-go but could never figure out what it was. I worked twice as hard as anyone I knew with half the results.

I didn't give up completely, but I've come close. Over the last year I haven't really been as rigorous as I was before because it has been too darned hard on my body. Running 4 miles a day has taken a brutal toll on my knees and they forced me to take a look at the fact that my body just isn't going to take too much abuse anymore.

The most frustrating part of this is that I gained about 20 pounds a little over a year ago due to what I now know was a hissy-fit thrown by my thyroid. Now, if any of you have ever had to deal with a thyroid that has decided to act up, you'll know it's hell. You get the joys of insomnia, dry skin and weight gain. Woo Hoo! I haven't had a lot of luck in dealing with my doctors over the years. I tell them I can't lose weight and they tell me I'm fine. Healthy as horse. Nothing to worry about.

So, out of total frustration I started using over-the-counter glandulars for my thyroid. And am I glad I did! They have been a godsend and I feel tons better. I saw my doctor last week and she tested my thyroid and it came back normal. Whew! This sh*t really works.

But I'm still overweight. Not tons. I can wear a size 10 or a 12 and that's not deadly at 5'9". But I wanna lose more weight (I whined).

And then I heard something on the TV that really got my attention.

I don't know how many of you are Diet Coke addicts like me, but maybe it's time to rethink that addiction. This article and others like it have been quite the eye opener for me. If you haven't heard, it seems that researchers are now seeing a correlation between diet coke consumption and obesity-- to an even higher degree than regular soda consumption.

Well knock me over with a feather.

I have thought on an intuitive level that I should stop drinking diet cola for some time. Mostly I was thinking in terms of the acid content and the fact that it can lead to osteoporosis. But weight gain? From a diet soda? No way!

I always assumed that diet cola was God's gift to me. I could enjoy a fizzy drink without any calories. But if any of you drink diet cola you have probably noticed that over time your consumption has increased. I used to drink one or two a day, but then it evolved into grabbing one right when I wake up and plowing through the majority of a six-pack throughout the day. But according to studies, the more diet soda you drink a day, the higher your risk of obesity.

Oh hell.

Apparently your risk of being overweight is significantly increased by just drinking one a day. Heck, the study suggests that just 1/2 can a day will prove deadly to you weight.

Now, if you're like me. You're probably all too ready to scoff at this study. I have read tons of posts on different blogs about this topic and I can't believe the amount of denial out there. People are seriously attached to their diet colas. I've heard people say it's the sugar industry that's behind the studies or the tree-hugging crowd trying to rain on our parade again. I've had friends react almost violently when I have suggested trying to wean ourselves off of the diet coke. They say things like but it's my only vice!

Believe me, I know. I've said if for years. I have a ten-year diet cola habit to break. But by golly I'm going to. I am tired of my body rebelling every time I try to lose a few pounds. And if you think I'm being overly dramatic, there are now studies that show diet cola is linked to metabolic syndrome, that lovely cluster of symptoms that include the inability to lose weight, high cholesterol, abdominal obesity and high blood sugar.

Some people are trying to say that there are other lifestyle factors that cause metobolic syndrome and that diet cola isn't to blame. I might be willing to give this some credence if I had not been dieting and exercising myself to death over the last ten years. I know, I mean, I know my body has been fighting me for a long long time and the only thing that makes any sense is the diet coke addiction. Some studies suggest that the artificial sweeteners in the drink actually stimulate appetite and sugar cravings.

You know what, I agree. I've been off the cola for a little over a week and I can't believe how much change I can see already. I haven't dropped 10 pounds (I wish) but my appetite and sugar cravings do seem significantly reduced. I have girl scout cookies sitting on top of the fridge and valentines candy in the pantry that I don't feel an immediate desire to devour. Wow. That's new.

So whether you agree with the dangers of diet cola, wish me luck. I'll be everyone's guinea pig if you'd like. I'll go off the soda-- and all artificial sweeteners-- and let you know if I see any results. That way, if you're not ready to give up the diet crack, you can at least think about it while you watch me fumble around and try to figure out what it is that's keeping the fat on my belly.

Trout Pout

2008-02-24T08:51:00.000-08:00

I've never had plastic surgery. I've never been injected with Botox or had anything surgically implanted into my chest.

I think I'm in the minority in my town. I went on a mommy's-night-out awhile ago and it dawned on my during dinner that there were more women at the table with breast implants than without.

Yikes!

My new gym membership has also provided a quite a view into how prevalent plastic surgery has become. I saw a woman in the locker room who had the scariest implants I have ever seen (and that's saying something since my mom had the old-school-hard-as-a-rock silicone implants) they puckered on the sides and left her with vaguely square shaped breast. Yowza.

But truthfully, I'm not trying to be judgemental when it comes to all the plastic surgery out there. When the most beautiful women in the world go under the knife, how is Ms. Average (like myself) supposed to feel? Take Elizabeth Hurley for example. I can't think of a women with more natural beauty, but she has become one of the many to inflate her lips into what has become infamously known as the "trout pout." And apparently Jessica Biel and Lindsay Lohan have followed suit. (I could mention the Paris Hilton pic, but do I really need to bother?)

The "trout pout" is the one the few forms of plastic surgery I haven't seen among my peers yet, which surprises me a little given what I have seen. My mom alone had implants and and eye job. I've had many friends get implants, lipo, Botox and the occasional tummy tuck.

If this seems excessive, remember, I live in California.

And I have personally felt the pressure to get plastic surgery. Prior to having kids I had a great figure-- super flat tummy, great ass-- but no boobs. I had a boyfriend who made not-so-subtle hints that I should get a boob job and I think my mom wouldn't have exactly frowned upon it. I'm glad to say I didn't cave to the pressure and ditched that boyfriend. This proved to be a good thing since childbirth brought me from and A to a C cup. Sure I have some extra cushion now and the abs aren't what they used to be. But I'm comfortable in my skin and plastic surgery isn't likely to improve upon that.

Like I said, I don't mean to be judgemental. If someone has a nose they don't like, by all means, get it fixed. But I gotta say, all this craziness over trying to stay young just doesn't seem to be working. Have you noticed that all celebrities running around with massive amounts of surgery seem to look worse? I mean, hello, Burt Reynolds? Joan Van Ark?

I hope we're just on the upside of a pendulum swing in the direction of plastic surgery that will wane on the down-swing. I sincerely hope that people will begin to realize that living healthy is the best means toward looking good. That gastric bypass surgery, lipo and face lifts are likely to only be a short-term fixes.

But I doubt it.

Nonetheless, I think mother nature is going to keep trying to tell us to leave well enough alone. I think we're going to keep seeing ridiculous looking celebrities trying to deny the effects of father time to disastrous effect. If we'll only bother to learn the lesson.

Me & Tina Fey

2008-02-22T12:55:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had those moments when you decide to radically change your look? If you're a woman you probably do.

Last week I decided I was tired of being blond. I don't know why, but it seemed like time to go brunette again.

That isn't such a big change, but then I realized I needed glasses. I've been wearing contacts for over 20 years but they started bugging my eyes, so I needed to switch to glasses. I have an older pair, but they're the rimless style and very boring to me.

So I decided to go for some Nerd Chic and do the Tina-Fey-dark-framed things.

What do you think?

And no, I can't take a picture without the camera showing. I'm retarded when it comes to taking a pic while holding my arm out. I need a mirror.

And what about my artistic side view? You think you know what I look like but you wouldn't recognize me if you saw me face on-- since I'm not really blue and all... At least that's what I tell myself.

But the change is good. My husband gets to pretend he's going to bed with another woman and I can hide behind my glasses. We both win.

Checking My Ego at the Door

2008-02-12T13:30:00.000-08:00

I got a gym membership.

I've been sweating it out running at 5:30 in the morning and that was surprisingly okay. Except my knees didn't think so.

I've been running for eight years and frankly, my knees are more than just a tad angry. I notice this the most when I sit in my recliner to play Guitar Hero. After amazing myself with my manual dexterity and masterful playing skills I will shift in my seat to gear up for my next virtuoso performance and notice that my knees have locked into place.

That kinda hurts.

So I was forced into thinking of another way to get some exercise and really, the only thing to do was sign up for the gym.

I've learned a couple of things.

First, I am in better shape than I thought. It turns out I'm pretty darn strong. When you sign up for the gym you get three sessions with a trainer and I am pleased to say that I can lift a lot of weight. This, I am sure, is because my 40lb son still insists that I lug him around all the time and that little sack of potatoes has given me some pretty strong arms and legs. Not only that, but running all the time has given me great endurance. I can do an hour long cardio kick-boxing class and not collapse on the floor.

Secondly, I have learned that I am in worse shape than I thought. I have done karate for years and that does involve standing in front of a mirror for an hour straight. But in karate we wear a little outfit called a gi, and those gi's are pretty baggy. At the gym there are lots of women running around in little gym outfits that prominently display their midriff and their oh-so-buffed arms. Me? Not so much. I am about the same size as Tyra Banks without the massive hooters and I have shoulders like a line-backer.

I don't think I'm going to be wearing a tank top to the cardio class again soon. I don't think my ego can take it.

Hmm, I Can't Decide if Winehouse Was Good or So So

2008-02-11T14:24:00.000-08:00

Yes, I watched the Grammy's just so I could see Amy Winehouse.

Of course they put her on near the end. I wouldn't be surprised if they Grammy coordinators were sweating it the whole time. You know they had it organized so they could put her on in a moment's notice in case she threatened to bolt.

I can't help but feel bad for this poor thing though. Did you notice how many times she mentioned her husband Blake (her "Blake incarcerated") during her performance? I noticed at least 2 during the songs. There just seems something a little desperate about that. She also looked like she was too frail to stand up on the stage.

I hope she gets help at some point. There's obviously some talent there, just a tortured soul to go with it.

Me and My Shadow

2008-02-07T00:42:00.001-08:00

I haven't had a dog in a long long time. I've always been a cat person. Cats are ideal for me because they don't ask for much. Most cats I've had mainly just demand food and the occasional leg to attack, and they're good.

Dogs on the other hand....

I mentioned before that I inherited a small ball of poodle fluff named Sassy. Sassy is the first dog I've had in awhile. We briefly adopted a dog about 6 years ago, but when she decided she was the alpha to my husband and started baring her teeth we spun her little hind-end around and out the front door real quick (on the advice of our local SPCA who promised to try and find a home for her without children). My daughter likes to say that Bear (the dog) "had issues."

So Sassy.

She is cute as can be. A little 8 pound fur ball that follows me everywhere. I don't think that I am usually a klutz. Well, maybe a little. But lately klutzy is my middle name. Every time I turn around to do anything, Sassy is there, entwined between my feet ready to lick her little heart out. (Let me tell you, that dog can roto-rooter your nose if you're not careful).

I hardly know what it's like to walk without a dog underfoot anymore. Walking down the stairs is now an acrobatic routine that I pray won't end up with me in a cast or a broken neck.

But oddly, I kind of like have the little fur-ball underfoot. I've never had a dog attached to me like this before. Growing up, our dogs usually took to my mom or my older brother. The cats usually liked me best but they never felt the need to follow me to the bathroom for a game of catch.

Yep, it's a whole new world.

But Do We Really Know Who They Are?

2008-02-02T23:40:00.000-08:00

I've been blogging for almost a year and a half and for the most part it's been a really positive experience. I've become acquainted with a lot of great people and for me, it's been a good outlet and way to socialize when I'm feeling overwhelmed with being a stay-at-home mom.

But like anything else blogging can be abused-- if that's really the appropriate term. Over the last couple of days I've noticed something on two blogs that I regularly go to; appeals for money. I don't have a problem with people making money off of their blogs. I've toyed with the idea of doing PayPerPost so I could raise money for giveaways on my other blogs. There are several blogs that I respect who advertise and earn all kinds of money. I have no issue with that.

What I don't like is blatant appeals for money using a sob story of some kind. The fact is, I really don't know these people and have no idea if I'm being conned or not-- and let's face it, they're more than likely being dishonest.

One blog in particular caught my attention. The blogger (who shall remain nameless unless I find out for sure there is any wrongdoing going on) is one of those who has had ads and donation buttons on her blog for some time-- no big deal. But about a week or so ago she decides to put up a post about some pyramid-type business she's doing and wondering if anyone is interested in joining. Okaaaaay. Her credibility is dented a bit but not irreparable.

But then yesterday she puts up a post about her ailing grandparents and how they need money for meds and so on.

Am I wrong to be suspicious?

The post is all touchy-feely, sweet and certain to pull at the emotions. But is it real? I have no way of knowing. I do know, due to her gushing gratitude, that over $4000 has been raised by donations on her blog.

Granted, the people who donate are doing so of their own free will and they have the ability to question the credibility of the story as much as I do. But still, I have a feeling they're being conned.

Another blog has an appeal for money to help a young girl leave an abusive situation and go back home to her mom. There's pictures of the trailer she lives in and everything!

Yeah, I'm not buying it.

Sorry folks. No donations from me. I'll take my money directly to my local receiving home if you don't mind. It's nothing personal. I just don't know you people. Really.

Purple

2008-01-27T12:07:00.000-08:00

My husband decided this weekend that we needed to paint my daughter's room. Actually, since babysitting is hard to come by, he decided he needed to paint her room while I kept the kids out of his way.

Ever since we bought the new house, my husband finds little ways to put his his mark on it ("piss all over it" is his more earthy way of putting it....) and I can't blame him. If anyone has been paying any attention to the housing market for the last 5 or so years, then you know how crazy it's been. We waited a long time to buy and now that we're owners, hubby likes to do little things that remind him that we can do whatever we want to the place.

My daughter is 7, so the color choices are generally predictable for a female at that age. She settled on purple. Not lavender. But a fairly jarring shade of purple called "Freesia Purple." It's better than Pepto Bismol pink, right?

I don't really care too much about the color though. My daughter is (luckily) not a hyped-up ADD child that's already bouncing off the walls, so I doubt the color will jazz her up too much.

[total tangent here] My sister-in-law has a kid who is diagnosed ADHD and she painted his room "Cardinal Red." WTF??? You want the kid to be a 24-7 nervous wreck? [tangent over]

But I am surprised at how overall this color situation is making my head spin. This is the first time in my adult life that I have been able to pick colors for my home and I am finding out how style-challenged I am. Back home, when I still lived with my parents, I painted my room a very pale peach color and that was fine. I didn't have to match anything other than my bedroom walls and my comforter--simple. But the whole-house-matching-the-furniture-thing has me totally intimidated.

And I can't really defer to hubby. He thought the purple my daughter picked out was perfectly tasteful.

Scary.

The purple is fine for a 7-year-old girl's room, but I would hyperventilate if it was anywhere else in the house.

I don't live in a brothel.

(Oops! Did I just hint that my daughter's room looks like a brothel? That can't be good.....)

Morning People

2008-01-22T08:08:00.000-08:00

I am not a morning person. I probably never will be, no matter how hard I try.

I've been a runner for almost 8 years. It's the only exercise that seems to reliably keep my weight down, so I keep doing it. I've tried pilates but I just can't get any excitement for yoga. I've been doing martial arts for 15 years, but I don't put it into the exercise category because two days a week just doesn't cut it.

So I run. But the problem is that with two kids and a husband, and all their corresponding schedules, I have a heck of time squeezing my exercise time in. In a strange bit of desperation I've started running in the morning before my husband goes to work. The problem is, my husband leaves for work at 6:30am and that means I have to get up at 5:30am or so.

Ugh.

I'm on my third week of this schedule and I still can't seem to get a clue. If I want (hahahahahahaha) to get up at 5:30, then I should be in bed by 9:30pm to get 8 hours of sleep, right?

Oh, that will so never happen.

I am a night owl in the worst way. During my college years I worked nights and rarely got into bed before midnight-- and that's being very conservative. Usually I was lucky to be off work by midnight. And many a night was spent at the local Denny's eating french fries and chocolate shakes with my co-workers. Maybe if I'd had fewer nights like that I wouldn't need to get up while it's still dark outside....

I've gotten myself into this vicious cycle where I get up and run, stagger home tired and bleary eyed, drink one of those super-duper caffeinated energy drinks to wake-up, get through half the day on a caffeine buzz, crash about mid-day, drink tea to get through the slump and then get my second wind about 7pm which kills any hope of getting into bed before 11pm. The worst part is that my body gives out sometime around Friday afternoon and most of Saturday is spent recovering.

You really would think I would get it together and go to bed. But no, I'm dense. Every night, when the family is in bed and the house is quiet, I say to myself I should go to bed. But then, the quiet of the night lulls me into staying up, just a little longer. I read a little or enjoy having control over the remote and before I know it-- I've cut my sleep by two hours.

Sigh.

There is a bright side though. I don't think I was aware I was awake until after I ran two miles this morning. The third mile was a bitch though.

Can a daughter be too pretty?

2008-01-15T19:27:00.000-08:00

You're gonna think I'm just a bragging mom. Maybe I am a little. But I have a seriously gorgeous kid.

See, you think I'm bragging.

But from the time she was an infant I've had people stopping me to comment on how beautiful she is.

You still think I'm just bragging.

I got cornered once in the meat section of the grocery store by four people- who did not know each other- who said they had to come over and look at the gorgeous baby. I am not making this up. I've had a lot of people ask me if she models and even had one woman dig up a magazine to show me a picture of a child who looks amazingly like my kid. I swear she still thinks I'm hiding my child's secret modeling career.

The point of all this is that it's kind of tough to encourage your kid toward a career in medicine while everyone else is saying she ought to model. A couple of weeks ago my husband's family was over at the house and the conversation was something like this.

Great Grandma: Oooooh, look at those long legs, you should be a model dear.

Me: Or a doctor.

Grandma: Oh I know, she could be an actress.

Me: Or a doctor.

Great Grandma: And those eyes, definitely a model.

Me: Or maybe she could GO TO SCHOOL.

*Sigh*

I'm happy my daughter is pretty. Mostly. But I also fear the fact that people (like family) might skew her perception of reality and make her think she doesn't need things like an education. Or a personality.

And don't even get me started on boys.

Ugh!

2008-01-14T14:12:00.000-08:00

I hate New Years resolutions. I never make them. Well, mostly. I pretty much resolve to lose weight year round and pretty much gain and lose the same 10 pounds in an endless cycle of self-loathing.

So I threw the scale away. I really did. I just can't live like that anymore; pegging my self-esteem to a number on a scale. I swear, it got so bad that if I weighed myself and I was up 2 pounds I'd be depressed all day.

What kind of life is that I ask you?

I blame my mom. She of the freakishly high metabolism that kept her at about 100lbs her whole adult life and couldn't figure out why I had such a hard time. After all, being skinny is easy, isn't it? I should never have relished in her menopausal weight gain but I did. She stopped griping about my weight for the first time in my life and I got to lecture her about how beneficial a trip to the gym would be. Oh paybacks are a bitch.

I feel like I am in this weird flux state in my life right now. I haven't weighed myself in a couple of months and it's been pretty great. The world didn't end, my clothes still fit and I can make it through the day without a fit of self-loathing. Who knew how liberating ignoring ones weight could be?

Sadly, it does help that my mom is gone (not dead, just out of the country...). I no longer worry about comments about my current hairstyle, clothing or shoes. Yes, I can wear my Croc's without comments about how wide they make my feet look. These are silly little freedoms but you'd be surprised how the little things add up.

I just hope that I have learned something though. I hope I can raise my daughter without so many superficial judgements. I hope I appreciate her for who she is and what she can offer without letting 'appearances sake' get in the way. I've had enough of that for one lifetime.

My Dog is in Lust With Santa Clause

2008-01-08T12:19:00.000-08:00

I almost didn't get my dog a Christmas present this year. I've never been one to buy my pets presents on holidays because, well, they're pets! It's not like they're going to know or anything. But when my seven year old daughter asked me what I thought Santa was going to bring Sassy this year, I knew I had to get something for the dog.

So my husband picked up a fairly generic doggie-stocking stuffed with doggie toys and we put it under the tree. At first it didn't really seem like the dog was that into her present. She'd kind of half-heartedly chase the squeaky ball or nose the toy candy-cane around, but no real excitement-- maybe she had been hoping for a new exciting chicken-flavored chewy-- I don't know.

But after a day or so I noticed a new light in the dog's eyes (or at least the one she can see out of). She seemed to be favoring the stuffed-Santa toy. She'd kind of sidle over coyly and gaze at Santa with a look that could only be called adoring.

And then she'd attempt to hump the bejeesus out of the thing.

I didn't know girl dogs did this until Sassy came along. Unfortunately my mom never got her spayed. At first there was a glimmering of an idea to breed the dog, but then it just turned into laziness and the dog was left with these feelings, or yearnings maybe, that can't find expression without a boy dog to help her out.

Apparently Santa is a decent surrogate.

When this slightly alarming behavior started (you try explaining what the dog is doing to Santa to your young children) I had already had Sassy scheduled to be fixed so I didn't worry too much. I assumed the dog's hormones would cool it once she was no longer fertile, but it turns out that was a foolish hope.

I don't know if all dogs will try to hump stuffed animals after being fixed, or if it's behavior that's only common to dogs who are older after being snipped. I doesn't really matter, Sassy still wants to get it on with the guy in red.

But I've had to put the kibosh on her party. It's just too awkward with kids or polite company. So I had to take Santa away.

The dog usually sleeps on our bed at night, but for the last two nights she's slept on the downstairs couch. I don't know if she's in mourning or if she simply isn't speaking to me. Or maybe she knows Santa is sitting on top of the TV and she's hoping he'll come down for a midnight tryst.

I hope I'm not getting in the way of true love.

What a Drama Free Life Looks Like

2008-01-07T14:27:00.000-08:00

My parents have been gone a little over a month now and it's HEAVEN I tell you. My mom calls every few days but the phone cards only last 6 minutes so the calls are blissfully short. It's beautiful.

So what have hubby and I done with our new peaceful existence? Did we take up zen meditation to get into tune with our spirits-- or whatever the hell that stuff is for? Heck no! We bought "Guitar Hero."

I have never in my life played video games before. I hate the whole joystick thingy. I cannot push buttons and aim at the same time. I don't know if it's an X chromosome thing (kind of like being directionally challenged) or if I'm just lazy. But "Guitar Hero" rocks (no pun intended)!

I can play a game that lets me hold a guitar and pretend I know how to play it. How great is that? I don't need to know my way around notes or chords or melodies or any of that junk. Nope. I just push the blue button when it appears on screen and music happens! Instant gratification never felt so good.

Blogging is tough though. My hands are all tired and cramped up. The first night I put a brief post up on my sci-fi blog and I could barely type.

But I have found it's a great stress reliever and oddly enough something my husband and I can do together. Yeah, we're dorks. Parent free dorks....

Big shock, they're gonna sue....

2008-01-02T18:52:00.000-08:00

I'm sure most of you have heard about the tiger attack at the San Francisco Zoo last week. If you haven't, all you have to do is google San Fransico Zoo and tiger and you'll have all the details you can handle. But in a nutshell, 3 boys were visiting the zoo on Christmas day and according to bystanders were teasing the tiger, which resulted in the animal scaling the wall and killing one boy and mauling the other two.

So, big shocker, the surviving boys (brothers) have retained a lawyer (ambulance chaser Mark Geragos of Scott-Peterson-trial fame) and it's looking a whole lot like they're going to sue the zoo.

What bugs me to no end about this whole thing is that I think the zoo is responsible for the attack despite the fact that the survivors appear to be total tools. The boys haven't spoken to or been cooperative with police at all. I don't know if they have even spoken to the family of the boy who was killed but I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't because their behavior thus far would indicate they are complete assholes.

And if their personalities were taken into account they probably wouldn't get anything from a jury.

But here's the thing. The tiger got over the wall. No matter what those boys did to provoke the tiger the fact is the zoo should have been damn sure that such a dangerous animal couldn't have made it over the wall. Because we're talking about a wild animal, whose to say what could have caught the tiger's eye at any given time and made it curious enough to get out? What if it had been my kid (or yours) on the other side of that enclosure carrying a balloon that made the tiger just curious enough to check it out?

See what I'm getting at?

The zoo takes our money and offers us the spectacle of wild animals on display with the promise of safe viewing. It doesn't matter whether you approve of keeping wild animals in captivity or not, it just is what it is and the zoo didn't ensure the public safety. And now, two complete shitheads will probably walk with a ton of money they don't deserve and a beautiful animal was put to death because the zoo was careless. And lets not forget the boy who was killed. He sounds as if he was the most decent of the bunch. At least, for his parents sake, I hope he was.

Favorite Christmas Movie Quotes

2007-12-23T23:41:00.000-08:00

George Bailey: What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary.
Mary: I'll take it. Then what?
George Bailey: Well, then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, see... and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair... am I talking too much?
~It's a Wonderful Life

Ralphie as Adult: [narrating] Over the years I got to be quite a connoisseur of soap. Though my personal preference was for Lux, I found that Palmolive had a nice, piquant after-dinner flavor - heavy, but with a touch of mellow smoothness. Life Buoy, on the other hand... YECCHH!
~A Christmas Story

Fred Holywell: [on his Uncle Ebenezer] ... His wealth is quite useless to him, really. He doesn't do any good with it; he doesn't even make HIMSELF comfortable with it.
Ebenezer Scrooge: [whom nobody else can see or hear] I haven't SQUANDERED it, if that's what you mean by "making myself comfortable!"
Ghost of Christmas Present: You mustn't argue with those in the right. It's pointless, and even tactless.
Ebenezer Scrooge: Tact is a quality I despise.
Ghost of Christmas Present: *That* I can see.
~A Christmas Carol

Frank Cross: I want to see her nipples.
Censor Lady: But this is a CHRISTMAS show.
Frank Cross: Well, I'm sure Charles Dickens would have wanted to see her nipples.
Guy who works on set: You can barely see them nipples.
Frank Cross: See? And these guys are REALLY looking.
~Scrooged

Kevin McCallister: I took a shower washing every body part with actual soap; including all my major crevices; including in between my toes and in my belly button which I never did before but sort of enjoyed. I washed my hair with adult formula shampoo and used cream rinse for that just-washed shine. I can't seem to find my toothbrush, so I'll pick one up when I go out today. Other than that, I'm in good shape.
~Home Alone

Clark Griswold: Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.
~Christmas Vacation

Santa: That's another thing... Buddy you should know that your father... he's on the naughty list.
Buddy: Nooooo!
~Elf

John McClane: Merry Christmas, Argyle.
Argyle: Merry Christmas.
Argyle: [Argyle shuts the limo door]
Argyle: Man, if this is their idea of Christmas, I *gotta* be here for New Year's.
~Die Hard
(Yippie-kay-yay, motherfucker is really my favorite, but I was trying for a holiday quote.... )

Have a great holiday everyone!

Who Knew Burger King Was Into S & M?

2007-12-19T12:56:00.000-08:00

This site just cracks me up. It's called Subservient Chicken and you have to see it for yourself.

I'm generally too chicken myself to ask him to do more than the chicken dance. Let me know if any of you are brave enough (or clever enough) to come up with some interesting commands.

For Those Who Can Get to New York on Short Notice...

2007-12-05T20:29:00.000-08:00

I have movie premier tickets at Madison Square Garden for "I Am Legend" to giveaway on my Sci-fi blog. Go HERE to find out how to enter!

The Light! I Can See the Light!

2007-12-02T22:55:00.000-08:00

My parents flew out this morning. They really did it. They really left and I managed to prevent them from moving in with me. How I prevented this ~~miracle~~ tragedy (already drunk while writing this...) is still a mystery to me. Of course, I still need to stay vigilant to make sure that I don't end up with family members mooching off of me later, but I think we've set a good precedent.

I can breath now. I may not even need a bottle of wine to go to bed with. Starting tomorrow...

Time For a Crazy Check

2007-11-30T08:01:00.000-08:00

I have a friend who is going through the same kind of B.S. with her mom that I've had going on with my parents. And we were wondering if it's a generational thing, you know- crazy baby-boomers, or if it's an age thing and we're all going to act like that someday.

We have both decided that we would rather be strung up by our eyeballs than end up like our moms, so we've promised each other that if we see the other doing anything reminiscent of our bat-shit-crazy mothers, we are obligated to give each other a 'crazy check.'

I think this could work, don't you? I mean, wouldn't it get your attention if someone said to you, "um, you're starting to act like your mom..."

((shudder))

But mostly, I'm thinking it'll be time to end it if my daughter ends up with a 'crazy check' agreement with one of her friends.

Sob

2007-11-28T14:57:00.000-08:00

I wish I didn't need to use my blog as a diary. I wish I didn't feel like the acid in my stomach is a volcano ready to erupt. I wish my parents were leaving when they originally said they were going to *&^%$# leave!

They delayed their flight by three days. That might not seem like much, but it's an eternity to me. I went over to their house today to pack up stuff that they've graciously decided to pawn off on me and my gut has been ready to explode ever since.

Is it wrong to wish for a big blow-up so I can tell my dad never to call me again? I actually wish for this too.

The drama right now is over the fact that my parents want to store a bunch of stuff in our garage. My husband is so mad he can't see straight. My dad lays this guilt trip on me that because we're "family" he shouldn't have to even feel bad about asking us to store his shit for him. WTF? I don't remember seeing a family rulebook that says it's okay to take advantage of your kids without guilt. Then my dad tells me that because he gave us this pinball machine that my husband wanted ....I could've paid for a years worth of storage for what I could have sold that for..... we should store his stuff for him. My husband is ready to go rent a truck and park the pinball machine in their driveway.

I don't blame him.

My parents have also said they want to spend the night with us right before they leave but I think that's going to be off the table. My husband has decided he will put them up in a hotel before that comes to pass and I think that's wise. I can just see my dad telling us, after he's already in the door, that he's postponed his flight again and they're going to spend Christmas with us.

I think not.

Stress!!!

2007-11-20T19:26:00.000-08:00

I'm as so stressed. I know I've been using my blog as a personal diary lately with TMI in virtually every post. But I'm sure you've been there before, haven't you? The stress you're dealing with is family related and you can't exactly call your mom and tell her what's going on when your mom is the problem. And my poor husband is just plain tired of hearing about it. And frankly, hearing his rants about my family don't exactly lift the stress right off of my shoulders either.

We're moving this week (Ya!) and that's actually not too bad. We have probably had the most hassle-free home purchase ever. This is so ironic considering the credit crunch that is going on right now. I guess the frugality that my husband and I live our lives by has finally paid off. We got the keys today and my dear hubby is currently painting his brains out. I would be over there helping him, but without babysitting there is no way I could take our 3-year-old demon child over there an expect to have a fingerprint-free paint job. Heck, I expect the boy would be covered in paint from head-to-toe in a matter in minutes-- right after my husband pulled all of his own hair out.

No, my stress is pretty much all related to my parents. Isn't that something? I'm moving during Thanksgiving week and that's nothing compared to dealing with my family. But you so know what I'm talking about don't you? You know you do. You're planning on having Thanksgiving dinner right now with relatives that drive you up the wall. Don't lie.

I've been living in terror for the last three weeks that my mom and dad were going to try to weasel their way into living with me. We bought a house that would be big enough to move them in, but there is no way in hell that I would ever, ever let that happen. My dad threw out a comment the first week that hey, there's room for all of us there! Your mom and I could go on hubby's insurance as dependants and I could pocket my social security money.

I think my exact response was oh shit!

My dad is one of those people who will say stuff like that to see how you'll react and if it's not a positive reaction, they'll try to pass it off as a joke. Riiiiiight. Just a joke. He wouldn't be joking if I said he could move in.

But I told my mom straight up that there was no way that I could live with my dad. Period. I've watched my dad wreck their finances for the last 5 years and I know for a fact he would take advantage of us and put us in the poor-house as well. No thank you. I may be a cold-hearted daughter, but I see no reason to bankrupt my family because my dad hadn't the financial sense not to rack up almost a million dollars in debt-- that he will completely default on.

What's really galling is that my dad wasn't some poor schmuck who earned minimum wage his whole life. No, he earned big bucks. He'd spend $30k a year on lavish vacations. They bought a stupid $10,000 marble statue of an angel that doesn't go with anything. My mom bought fur coats and we live in California. Need I say more?

Luckily, my parents have finally made arrangements to go to Thailand. They're flying out 3 days after we move. Thank God! But it's been a grind. My dad expects me to put my life on hold to help him with his stuff even though I'm moving! He calls me and says I need you to do me a favor and tells me that they're going to be spending the night at my house the day we move. Um, hello? Ever think about asking me if that was okay first? I put my foot down though and told him no way. I don't care that you have packed up your mattresses, where the heck do you think you're going to sleep at my house? On the boxes I haven't emptied yet? Jerk.

So then I tell my mom yesterday that I'm tired of them telling me what I need to do for them. If they want me to do them a favor, ask! Don't demand. My mom gets all patronizing when I get mad and says things like I know, we're all stressed, as if they're not actually doing anything wrong, I'm just stressed out. She did this to me too when I was planning my wedding--but that's an old gripe.

But I still laid down the law. I said I would help if I could. I would try to find a way to let them spend the night right before they left, but not the very day we move in. My mom tells me that my dad's feelings are hurt. Jeebus. My dad has never given a rat's ass about any one's feelings his whole life but now we need to worry about his delicate sensibilities. Sorry, that ship has sailed.

So I'm trying to hold strong. I'm trying to protect my family while managing to stay on speaking terms with my parents-- not easy. But if I have to go silent to keep my kids and my husband from harm, then I will. But I guarantee my parents are going to be nice to me. They won't have anyone else to stay with if they come back for a visit.

What It's All About

2007-11-12T18:46:00.000-08:00

Jocelyn over at O Mighty Crisis (best blog name ever) put up this amazing post on her blog and I couldn't help but think, yeah, that's the way it's supposed to be.

I love my family dearly, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not a little relationship impaired. Somehow I found a man who thinks I'm normal and we've managed to hold it together for 12 years, and counting. But I think he's impaired in much the same way I am, which is a good thing. He has no other point of reference.

But, as I've said many times, my family is nuts. So how do you figure out how to function as a whole person when the tools you've been given are a bit lacking? In my case, I think I do owe a lot to a husband who fills in the gaps for me. (no I didn't say "he completes me...............") But he is the yin to my yang. He's all about the details and I'm the big picture person. He sweats the small stuff and I say "why worry?" He doesn't think I'm a freak for watching "Farscape" reruns and I don't belittle him for owning a David Cassidy record. Most of the time.

Jocelyn has inspired me to look back on my marriage and give thanks to the man who has been nuts enough to put up with my family for the last 12 years. Is there an award for that? There certainly should be.

I'm 3 years older than my husband and I think that has a lot to do with why we're still together. When we first met his 22-year-old self was quite in awe of my sophisticated 25-year-old self and he thought he was quite the stud to land the older woman. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wasn't as impressive as he thought I was and just let it lie. I'm nice like that.

Despite the fact that I am older, we graduated college at the same time. (I'm a slacker-- though I did get a minor in Japanese and did overseas study that added to my time in college. At least, that's what I tell myself) So we were both on the hunt for "real" jobs at the same time. Honestly, I forget who landed one first, though he is still at his first post-college job while I had several. One job took me to L.A. I got a job as an Associate Producer for a syndicated TV show and couldn't pass the job up. I thought for sure my husband (then boyfriend) and I would break up. I'd had limited experience with long distance relationships and figured the relationship would fizzle out after a few weeks. We'd been together for a little over a year and I knew I loved him, but I had been disappointed before and prepared myself to be disappointed again. I told him we should break up.

Fortunately for me, my husband is not the kind of guy to take bad news lying down. He accepted what I said but didn't accept what it meant-- if that makes any sense. He helped my move my stuff to L.A. and get my apartment set up and I was impressed but not convinced that he was really going to hang around. O me of little faith.

For the next year, my husband-to-be flew down to see me EVERY weekend. Well, almost every weekend. I think he couldn't make it twice-- those times I flew up to see him. Is that dedication or what? It only took a few weeks for me to realize he wasn't going to just fade quietly into the sunset. This was a man who meant to hang around. Wow. Every girl should have a guy like that in her life.

After I was in L.A. for a few months he proposed to me and I knew I had to marry him. He was, and is, special. But more importantly, he thought I was special enough to fly down and see me every weekend no matter how expensive or inconvenient it was. I grew up in a family that sometimes forgot my birthday. I needed a man who could cherish me.

I won't say we haven't had rocky times. We have had some beauts. But the one thing that holds it together is that my husband never stops trying. There is really nothing he wouldn't do to hold our marriage, our life and our family together. He's not perfect-- and neither am I. But there is that link between us that makes me believe that soul mates exist. He finishes my sentences and knows what I am thinking before I do. He is in a word, irreplaceable.

Oh Dear God! Why??!!!

2007-11-09T13:26:00.000-08:00

So I'm cruising the net today. Normal stuff. And somehow I come across a mention of a YouTube video called "2 girls 1 cup." (I got the name wrong when I put this post up, but I was too shaken to go back and find the video to verify its name)

Do not watch it ever. Never. I can not stress this enough.

I want to take an SOS pad to my brain and scrub. I wish I lived in the world of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."

I want to hurl.

If you have never heard of it, it involves two women eating feces. I wish I had never watched it.

I feel dirty.

*shudder* *shudder* *shudder* *shudder* *shudder*

Is This Really My Child?

2007-10-31T13:41:00.000-07:00

I wonder if my son was switched at birth. It just doesn't seem possible that he could be related to my daughter. My girl is such a mellow kid. We're moving soon and it's not bothering her at all. I was neurotic about moving her because I moved so much as a kid but she just takes a look at her new walk-in closet, says "cool" and is good-to-go.

My son freaks out if I leave the room.

My son is the kid you see in the McDonald's play area climbing on the side of play structure above the "do not climb" sign. He's the kid who picks up the bark at the park and throws it everywhere. I am the mom everyone looks at like "can't you control your kid?" No. Not really.

He's killing me.

I mentioned on my sci-fi blog how my son is going through a potty mouthed phase. At first I didn't believe what I was hearing. My son is a little bit speech-delayed (he's too busy climbing the walls to worry about talking) and his words aren't always that clear. At first I thought, well maybe he's saying "sit." But no, he wasn't explaining what his toys were doing on the floor, he really was exclaiming "shit!" whenever something didn't go his way. *Sigh* I got stop saying that every time I find that he got into the permanent ink markers and christened my couch....again. I still haven't figured out how to get the black ink off his belly from last time.

This week it's Halloween. To most people that might mean costumes but to my son it means candy. More specifically, chocolate. I will say this, the child has the good taste to prefer chocolate over all the other stuff most taste-impaired children go for. My daughter will trade a Kit-Kat for a gummy worm. Helloooooo? But not my son. He holds up his candy bar triumphantly and cries out "CHOCOLATE!" before smearing it all over his face and my furniture.

And now I'm trying to move and deal with this child. I'm pulling my hair out. He is the master of dragging the dining room chairs around to get into the higher cupboard-- or on top of the fridge. No place is safe from this child. I caught him with a knife the other day as he was trying to use it to open a candy package he had grabbed off of a high shelf.

And lest you think I leave this child unattended, let me assure you this is not the case. The last time he got a hold of a Sharpie, I had been following him around all morning. My husband has asked me to do all the transferring of utilities from the old house to the new, and I was making phone calls. I kept a note pad with me so I could be mobile and kept following my son as I made my calls. I'd go downstairs and dial and he'd immediately go upstairs. I'd follow him up as the phone was ringing and he'd turn around and go down. This went on for awhile until I got in the middle of a conversation with the cable company and realized after two minutes I my son was on the opposite floor again. I followed and found that he had pulled the Sharpies from the shelf (I think he stood on a box to get to them) tore open the package and got to work. He hit the couch, the kitchen floor, two tables and himself before I stopped the madness. Fortunately I got there before the ink was dry and managed to prevent any permanent damage. Thank God my husband wasn't home. The neighbors would have turned us in for sure.

But this is what it's like every day. I'm so tired I can't stand it. Between my family chaos and my son I need a sedative-- but I'm afraid I'd like the happy pills too much, so I'll stay away thank-you-very-much.

But what the heck do I do with a kid on testosterone overload? Seriously. Ideas?

My Mother-in-Law is a Tattooed Wiccan

2007-10-26T23:50:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in an earlier post that my in-law's divorce saga was just too good a story to pass up-- and it is. I'll try to just hit the highlights, but I may still ramble a bit.

When I first met my husband's family I thought they were soooo normal, and for awhile, they were. My in-laws have been married 35 years and they kept it together for most of that time. They did split up for a year back when my husband was 11, but got back together when my father-in-law supposedly shaped up his act.

Let me back up a bit. My FIL is a career military guy. He flew F-4's in Vietnam and is now a General. I won't specify his position because it could actually hurt his career to have stuff circulating about him, and despite the family drama, I do respect the service he's given his country. But military men are notoriously controlling and in his younger days he had a temper. My MIL was not a strong woman back then but she finally decided enough was enough and left. My FIL calmed down, treated her better and they worked things out.

But over the years another problem creeped up. Confidentiality. My FIL has a political job that involves a lot of secrecy. My husband will sometimes ask questions about what he does and his dad has to say, I can't tell you that, it's classified. It's not as bad as I could tell you but I'd have to kill you... But in all seriousness, that's the job and my FIL isn't making it up. But can you imagine the strain on the marriage? Most of the time he can't talk about his job. The habit is so ingrained that we never hear about his job. No workplace gossip or anything. I couldn't stand that, I love water cooler talk.

Over time this has bled into my FIL's everyday life. He is so used to keeping to himself that I don't think the poor man knows how to communicate beyond giving orders anymore and my MIL is literally starving to death for attention.

So, about two years ago, my FIL starts acting even more secretive than usual. He'd say he was going to go to Home Depot to pick something up and be gone for three hours. He started getting mysterious phone calls. My MIL found his Viagra. Yep, an affair, though he still won't cop to it.

The sad thing is that my MIL held on to the belief that is was just an "emotional affair" for a long time (as if that was better) but I think she's finally come to terms with the fact that he probably used a few of those Viagra, though I don't know if she actually counted them. I would have. But I'm a glutton for punishment.

My MIL's reaction was a bit strange though. Rather than kick his butt out she started acting like a rebellious teenager looking for attention. ((We actually kicked him out for her, but she let him back in just two weeks later after he promised to go to counseling, declaring I've known that man for 34 years and I trust him. He never went to counseling.)) I forget which came first, her decision to become a witch, or the tattoos. I think it was the witch thing first.

I can't remember how it came up initially. I just remember she told my husband that she was going to be a Wiccan. My husband just kind of rolled his eyes and went with it. She's always been the type to get wild hairs every now and then, but this was a new one. I told my husband not to give her a hard time because I thought she was looking for a diversion. But in hindsight, I think she was hoping to shock her straight laced military husband. We'd go over for Thanksgiving and she'd force us to sit through all these pagan blessings. Oh, but only after saying that Halloween was now some kind of major holiday for witch-kind and decking the house out in all it's Halloween finery, lighting candles and casting spells. At least she doesn't do anything halfway.

Unfortunately my FIL just wasn't as rattled by the whole Wiccan thing as my MIL hoped. He'd kind of shake his head, but never really offered a big reaction, which is what I think she was hoping for. So she started getting tattoos. Now, I don't want to be judgemental. Tattoos are pretty commonplace now, but when your MIL starts getting them, they just don't seem that cool anymore.

She started with a moon and stars on her ankle, then a ladybug on her foot. Followed by a small fairy on the other ankle and a great big fairy on her inner ankle that goes up her leg. They're pretty-- I guess. But they're also a pretty drastic measure to get your husband's attention don't you think?

And sadly, that didn't seem to get his attention either. I think he's just totally indifferent now. So MIL is talking divorce, though I don't know how long it'll take before she gets the guts up to actually do it. My FIL is beyond indifferent to her emotionally, but he manipulates her into staying because he doesn't want to lose half his pension. I personally think he's back with his girlfriend but I don't know for sure. I don't really have the energy to deal with it since my parent's drama is ongoing, but I expect that within days of my parents finally leaving, my in-laws will go into full-scale drama mode.

Oh, and I haven't even mentioned the fact that my MIL decided awhile ago that she was bi-polar (she used to be a nurse and self-diagnosed herself) she got a psychologist to go along with it and has been taking meds for it--including Lithium. And she's become a raging alcoholic-- using the drink induced haze to run her mouth at family gatherings.

But you gotta laugh. It's like a black comedy written by the Farrelly Brothers. And the weird thing is that I still think my family is worse. My husband agrees. He thinks that compared to my family, this is garden variety stuff. I should write a screenplay.

I haven't heard much about my MIL's "religion" lately though. I wonder if she's got some other ideas brewing in that head of hers to get my FIL's attention. It could be an interesting Christmas this year.

10-20-30 Meme

2007-10-24T12:23:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by John over at Grasping for the Wind with a fun meme that asks what you were doing 10, 20 and 30 years ago. Unfortunately I have answers for all three....

10 years ago I was mostly getting ready for my wedding. I had a job in L.A. that I left to come back to Northern California since my husband-to-be couldn't relocate his job as easily as I could. I decided to move back with my parents to save on rent money and I didn't want to live with my husband prior to marriage-- you know to keep it special. I was also scrambling to get a new job which ended up with me back in school to get my teaching credential that I completed soon after we married. All-in-all a hugely transitional time of my life.

20 years ago, let's see, I would have just turned 18. I had been in college for a year at that time and was just starting to realize I was going to have to actually apply myself if I was going to graduate someday. I was working as a waitress at a local Mexican restaurant-- after leaving my oh-so-glamorous job at the movie theatre. I had a lot of fun at this age. I wasn't a partier at all, but I had a bunch of friends that I worked with and we often would socialize together outside of work and had a blast. We'd go river-rafting or just hang out at Denny's at 2am. I didn't have a steady boyfriend at this age so just dated a bit and flirted a lot and got way too little sleep. Good times.

30 years ago I would have been 8. We were living in Irvine California. We moved a lot when I was a kid, I went to a different school almost every year in fact. I liked third grade. We lived in a great house in a nice neighborhood. The problem was that my parents only rented the house and couldn't keep up the payments after the first year-- but oh what blissful ignorance until then. I went to Turtle Rock elementary and I fondly remember a little boy Carl who declared his undying love for me-- at least until his next crush. I imagine that boy was quite the charmer as he got older. Even then he knew that compliments and gifts were a sure fire way to get the ladies. I hope he didn't turn out to be a cad.

I'm sure I'm supposed to tag someone. But I'm lazy, so consider yourself tagged if you want to be.

Sorry for the lack of action....

2007-10-18T23:47:00.001-07:00

For the few who actually read this blog, sorry for the lack of new posts. I wrote THIS POST to explain on my sci-fi blog.

Obituary: Common Sense

2007-10-15T14:56:00.000-07:00

I totally stole this from Factor 10 but I think it needs to spread around a bit.

Obituary
Common Sense

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a sticky plaster to a student, but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know my Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm a Victim.

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.

Author unknown

Sassy, the One Eyed Wonder Klutz

2007-10-11T22:46:00.000-07:00

So, we're getting a dog. By the title of my post you've probably already deduced she's not any ordinary dog.

Who wants ordinary?

My parents are moving sometime in the near future and I'm inheriting the dog. I love this dog. As the title of my post suggests her name is Sassy and she is the greatest animal on the planet.

I don't know what it is, but my family has never had normal pets. We're all a little nuts and I'm sure our pets reflect that; but our pets also have personality. Oh yeah.

Where do I begin with Sassy?

My mom got Sassy just before I had my son, so she's almost four years old. She was the cutest puppy you ever saw. A little apricot colored bundle of toy poodle with bad hair. You know how most poodles have a kind of regal snootiness about them? Not Sassy, she's the poodle who's hair sticks out at weird angles and isn't quite curly enough to sustain the pouf the doggie hairdressers try to put in her tail. You gotta love a dog who has bad hair days.

Sassy had a great personality from the get-go. Super sweet with this teddy bear face that almost diverted attention from my newborn son. Though we noticed right from the start that Sassy was very clumsy. You know, the kind of dog that trips over their feet when they're running at you. Most puppies outgrow this but Sassy still finds running very tricky.

My mom has always spoiled our pets shamelessly and they often live twice as long as they're supposed to for the food alone. Sassy got the doggie bed, the little outfits, the toys and even a little knitted blanket. I remember the blanket well. Sassy was laying on my couch one day when my mom came over to help with the baby and I was petting the dog. Sassy jumped up in a puppy frenzy to play with me and promptly started yelping as her front claws got caught in the fabric of the blanket. Poor baby. I untangled her and she licked my face in puppy gratitude and got on with her day. It was an omen I think.

Our dogs have always had these kind of slender metal collars; designer duds for doggies I think. So of course my mom immediately went out and got one for Sassy. I don't think it lasted a week. Somehow, while trying to get the collar off, she got the collar wedged in her mouth. I don't think this is too unusual, my cat used to do this every now and then. But Sassy wedged that thing in so tight my parents couldn't get it off no matter how they tried. My mom got out the wire cutters and metal collars are now a thing of the past.

Things went along like this for awhile. Sassy would run and trip and bite her tongue and do all sorts of silly things, but nothing too serious. Until the Great Dane that is.

My brother had a Great Dane. Another dog with a fantastic personality. I remember when he got her and told me her name was Kingcow. Huh? What the hell kind of name is Kingcow? Turns out he named her after a friend of his who lives in Thailand. I suppose Kingcow (Kinkow?) could be a Thai name. But I digress. After my brother decided to move to Thailand my parents agreed to keep the Great Dane. I don't know many people who would take on that challenge but we are the type to go overboard with our pets. So they ended up with two strangely paired dogs: the Poodle and the Great Dane. And they got along very well; no sibling rivalry at all. But it turns out, size matters.

My mom was babysitting my kids for an overnight stay when the strangest thing happened. I have given my mom a lot of crap on the blog so far, but one thing I really admire about her is that nothing rattles her. Nothing.

So the kids had been at the house for a few hours and I called to check in and my mom tells me every thing's fine and the kids are having a great time. Cool. So my husband and I have our date night and go to pick up the kids the next morning. When we get there I notice that Sassy is looking very strange. One of her eyes looks like it's about ready to pop out of her skull. And it's an alarming red color.

Oh, funny story, my mom tells me.

Mom: Kingcow knocked Sassy's eye out last night.

Me: Um, what did you just say?

Mom: Oh, it's nothing really. The dogs were playing and Sassy jumped up somehow and her head went into Kingcow's mouth and I think one of her teeth hit Sassy's eye and knocked it out.

Me: Silence.

Mom: I didn't want to worry you when you called last night. Dad had already taken the dog to the vet and the kids didn't see anything. I saw Sassy's eye right after it came out and I picked her up really fast so the kids wouldn't see it. I had dad distract the kids while I put her eye back in.

Me: Standing with jaw dropped.

Mom: The vet said there really wasn't anything else we could do. He thinks the eye will stay in but doesn't know if she'll ever see again.

Finally I manage a coherent thought. You put her eye back in??!!

Mom: Well, I had to, it was kind of hanging there....

Me: Kind of twitching now, And you didn't call me to come pick up the kids?!

Mom: I didn't want to spoil your evening....

Me: More stunned silence.

Even though I called Sassy a "one eyed" in the title of this post, she still actually has the eye, though she can't see out of it. You'd never know. She's always been clumsy so there's no discernible difference, though she has a tendency to look at you sideways if you're facing her bad eye. Weeeeellll maybe she is a bit more clumsy. My mom actually knocked the dog out cold one day playing catch with the dog. I kid you not. She threw the ball and Sassy apparently didn't see it coming and it hit her right on the temple and the dog keeled over like a tipped cow. My poor mom thought she had killed her dog, but fortunately Sassy rebounded quickly and my mom's heart started beating again.

My hand to God, this is all true.

And I can't wait to bring her home. My mom is not looking forward to leaving the dog. I mean, anyone who would put your eye back in must really love you right? Gah! Just the thought of it... Maybe I'm crazy for a taking a dog with this history, but maybe it's like someone who has already been stuck by lightening; what are the odds of it happening again? Quick, I need some wood to knock.

And is my mom a cool customer or what?

I Should've Been a Rebel

2007-10-10T23:39:00.000-07:00

I never rebelled as a teenager. I had three older brothers who did more than enough rebelling for the four of us. But sometimes I wonder if I should've raised a little more hell.

The problem in my house was that I didn't really get much out of being the good kid. I wrote a post about my psychotic family and a couple brave souls left comments (thank you by the way) so those who read the post might understand why I wanted to remain invisible as a kid. And that's what I was aiming for; invisibility. But looking back, I realize I didn't get much mileage out of being the mild mannered one.

I mean, I didn't do anything. I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I didn't skip school and I got good grades. Out of four kids, only two of us graduated high school and I'm the only who went to college and was the first in my family to have a college degree. I got something out of being the good kid on a personal level, but from a familial standpoint I didn't get squat.

What I mean by that is that my brothers were so busy raising hell that my parents didn't have time to care whether or not I was doing anything good. To a degree, this was a good thing since I did strive for invisibility. But on the other hand, when you don't raise hell, you get in trouble for the dumbest shit.

Case in point. The only thing I did that bugged my mom as a kid was that I had a messy room. Looking back, it wasn't even that bad, just an unmade bed and some clothes on the floor. But you would have thought I set the place on fire. My brothers were doing drugs, getting kicked out of school and getting in fights that resulted in more than one hospital stay. Were their rooms clean? Um, no. Did they get grounded for having a messy room? No. Did I? All the time.

Am I the only one who sees a glaring double standard here?

Obviously my mom was looking for a measure of control in an out-of-control life and I bore the brunt of that. And it chaps my hide to no end. I have laid into my mom on this and to her credit she admits it was messed up. But daaaaaamn, I wish I would have had the guts to just go a little crazy back then. I mean, what's the worst that could have happened? Getting grounded? Sheesh.

And now I'm a mom and I don't have the luxury of rebelling. Oh, I could do the Britney Spears route, but how sad is that? I wouldn't put my kids through that for anything. So I'm kind of stuck being the good girl for different reasons now. I have a good life, a nice husband, beautiful kids and nothing to be too ashamed about. But every now and then I wish I had been a little bolder when I was younger and had the chance to live it up a little. You know, given my parents a real reason to ground me.

My daughter has a messy room too, and I don't say a word.

Someone Said I Was Beautiful Today

2007-10-06T23:49:00.001-07:00

I went to Starbucks to get a chai tea latte today, and the greatest thing happened. The woman behind the counter handed me my hot concoction and said "Here you go beautiful..."

And it made my day.

Now, I have no doubt that she uses that with everyone. She's probably one of those personalities that calls people "cutie," "honey," and "beautiful," but so what? It made me feel special for about 2 seconds. Okay, at least 10 minutes.

Somehow my days of being called beautiful on a semi-regular basis left me about 10 years ago. I'm not saying I was a great beauty, but youth seems to attract the kind of compliments that we miss as we get older. I remember my mom once was so thrilled when a strange man told her how beautiful she was and I was thinking soooooo. How stupid was I? At the time I was thinking, well yeah, she is beautiful (my mom was a serious beauty) so what's the big deal? I hadn't gotten old enough yet to realize that as we get older we get a little less approachable, definitely more guarded. The open-faced child of 10-15 years past isn't there anymore with the assumption that life will continue to stroke our fragile egos as often as we might wish. How did those days go by so fast?

Now I'm told how beautiful my daughter is. And as much as I miss hearing it myself, I'm not jealous. I love to see her face light up when she hears that and she remains wonderfully modest too. I'm very proud of my beautiful little girl.

But every now and then, it's nice to be reminded that I might have a little something left that glows just a tiny bit with the radiance of youth I see in my kids. That someone might in fact think that I could be beautiful still.

I'm going back to Starbucks tomorrow.

How Come I Am This Way?

2007-10-03T23:37:00.000-07:00

Do you ever wonder why you have certain personality traits? I do. All the time.

I swear I was type A personality in the womb. I was even born six weeks early. Having children has forced me to relax a bit. It's impossible to be as obsessive over dumb s*** when you have other little people to worry about. But I would give anything to be more laid back.

I mentioned in my last post that I fret about my weight. Oh I cannot begin to tell you what an understatement that is. My metabolism seemed to have shut down by my reckoning after having kids. So I bugged and badgered my doctor about it until he told me to knock it off and that I wasn't overweight. You'd think that it would be fabulous to have your doctor tell you that you're fine, but noooooo, not me. If I'm not perfect I can't let it go. Why is that?

I have a friend who never seems bothered by anything. I know it isn't true because every now and then she lets a tiny bit of weakness show through and says something like my hair looks like crap today. Oh happy day, she felt the need to complain about something. And I envy the heck out of her. She can be cut off in traffic and not think a thing of it. She can run into a rude cashier at the grocery store and somehow manage to make that person love her before she even swipes her debit card. She can put on a bikini and not freak out. The woman is inhuman I tell you.

And everyone notices her ability to sail through life seemingly unaffected by the B.S. that wears the rest of us down. I even asked her mom about it and she said that my friend was always like that, even as a child.

How? How did she win the personality lottery that allows her to skip the part where she gets stressed out by stupid stuff? Chicken Soup for the Soul my ass, you gotta be born able to not sweat the small stuff.

But still, I wonder. Is is possible to develop these kinds of personality traits? Was Dale Carnegie telling the truth when he said he could teach us how to win friends and influence people?

Seriously. I worry about these things.

The Delicate Art of Husband Management

2007-10-01T14:58:00.000-07:00

Men don't get it. And they will tell you that too. They will also tell you that they have no conscious thoughts floating around in their heads at any given time. Just ask.

So is it really surprising that they almost always say exactly the wrong thing?

For me this comes up most frequently when I lament the fact, that despite running several miles a day, doing martial arts and eating grass disguised as salad, I can't lost weight. You'd think, after 12 years together he'd have a clue by now. But no, still clueless. Instead of saying what any sane woman wants to hear, Honey, I love you just the way you are... he's always saying crap like, I'm sure if you keep at it, the weight will come off. Tell the truth, you want to kill him already, don't you?

But I must admit fault here too. See, I was very slow to realize that I was supposed to tell him exactly what to say. That's right ladies, they will not figure it out for themselves. Ever. So it is up to us to coach them in the fine are of saying the right thing.

So the last time my husbands started in on his Oh, I'm sure you'll get it figured out eventually.... I stopped him mid-sentence. I tried not to actually say shut up, but it may have slipped out. Anyway, I stopped him before he made sure he'd never have sex again in this century and told him point blank, that is not what you're supposed to say!

Oh the confusion. The poor dear really didn't know what was going on. But I stood my ground and told him to quit trying to encourage me because he just didn't know how. I told him to repeat after me and slowly, with careful enunciation, said the words that every man should write on the back of his hand and say at least 10 times a day to the woman in his life. Honey, I love you just the way you are. I made him repeat it. I also told him to throw in a I don't think you need to lose any weight for good measure.

I told him to practice on his own. A lot.

Next week we're working on I don't care if you gain 50 pounds, I'll still love you just the way you are.

Taking the Blog Down the Rabbit Hole

2007-10-01T09:06:00.001-07:00

So I'm checking out Pay Per Post.

Need I say more?

I have always resisted the whole Pay Per Post thing, especially when I think certain blogs abuse the use of it. You've been to those blogs I'm sure.

But I have 3 blogs and sometimes it feels like a job. I have the book review blog, which is great because publishers will send me books to review. Free books are a beautiful thing...

But the sci-fi blog doesn't pay for itself in any way at all. And I can't post PPP ads on it because I have contributors listed on the site. That's a good thing I'm sure; keeps me honest.

And I never considered using this blog for PPP until someone said they make $600 a month with their PPP ads. Really? Um, that much? Just for posting a few ads?

No, it's not a huge amount of money, but it isn't half bad. And here's the thing. I've also seen blogs that use ads and then turn around and use the ad money to do contests on the blog. For example, Ree over at Confessions of a Pioneer Woman has "name the photo" contests and has given away as much as $600 in gift certificates in just one contest. How cool is that?

I do book giveaways on my review blog, but I'd like to do more stuff like that. It's fun and it's a nice feeling to be able to give rather than take.

So if the few of you who have actually come back to this little blog from time to time can stand a few ads, I might be able to use the $$ for fun and maybe give away some Amazon gift certificates, or something like that. Do you think it would be worth the bother?

Dear God, Please Don't Let Me End Up Like My Parents

2007-09-26T23:20:00.000-07:00

(Warning. This is a long friggin' post)

I bet just about everyone has uttered that prayer once or twenty times, my kids included. But let me tell you, I've got reasons.

I don't know what it is, but it seems like everyone I know who is in my age group (mid-to-late 30's) is going through some kind of parental crisis. And I don't mean a paltry health crisis either, oh no, that would be too easy. I'm talking divorce (my husband's parents), finances (my parents) and health (pretty much everyone).

I've generally stayed away from stuff that's too personal on my sci-fi blog, mostly to protect my kids. But after spending a year in cyber space and meeting some very cool people, I think I can vent in a general way from time to time. I just won't use names, you know, to protect the guilty.

And you gotta vent, right?

Alrighty, let me fill in some details for those of you who've managed to stay curious about all this.

My parents. Where do I start? Deep breath. Okay.

I was adopted as an infant and for the most part I'd say I have no issues with that. But there is a weird disconnect that comes from knowing you are not blood related to the family that raised you. I grew up thinking that maybe the love I felt for my family wasn't as strong as it would have been had I been related by blood. That's ridiculous of course, but still, you can't blame a kid for not understanding that.

It took having my own kids to realize that the love is the same and for that I will always be grateful I had kids. But at the same time seeing yourself reflected in the face of your children and their mannerisms drives home the undeniable truth that no matter how much you wish it wasn't so, you are different from the people who raised you. I don't mean values and that sort of thing. But the truth is there are things that come with genetic bonds. Your doctor knows this is true, that's why they ask you about your family history every time you have a health concern.

In my family, like many, the issues related to substance abuse and manic-depression. My parents were fairly stable, though my dad has a tendency toward alcoholism and gambling and my mom --hell, I don't even know the story there. Okay, maybe not so stable.

Anyway, the reason I mention all that stuff is to kind of give a background so you understand how they got where they are now. On the surface my parents look normal, successful even. But my mom wouldn't have it any other way. She has always compulsively tried to make sure the world would look at us and see the ideal family. Oh dear God, who did she think she was kidding? But it was this drive to appear normal that has allowed her to ignore what has been in front of her face for 40 years. Our family is nuts.

More history-- I have three brothers. One I haven't seen in 10 years due to a bad meth and alcohol addiction. How bad? He was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver and hepatitis C at 35 and told one good alcohol binge could kill him. Didn't slow him down. Last I heard he had somehow managed to get out of jail despite a weapons charge that included endangering a minor. He should never have been let out but he usually informs on his drug suppliers to get paroled and then leaves the state. Another brother moved to Missouri about 15 years ago and I seem him every 8 years or so. My third brother-whom I am closest with and love dearly, is manic depressive and moved to Thailand about 2 years ago. I get phone calls now and then.

Back to my parents. I've been nagging them for years to save money for retirement. My dad made a lot of money during his good earning years but they spent like crazy. They'd go on these month long vacations and stay in 5 star hotels. My dad once told me the tab on one vacation was $30k. So I bug my mom since my dad won't listen to me. I ask her what they have put aside for retirement and she tells me they're fine. I suggest that they cut their vacations in half and put away the money they'd save in a retirement account. She tells me, "oh it's your father who wants to take these vacations..." I'm thinking, what's that got to do with anything?

So I nag and they tell me I'm so tight I squeak. That's always been the family joke. Everyone in my family goes through money like water, but not me. For some reason I've always been very frugal, even as a kid. There's no reason for it, my parents never denied me anything. But for some reason I always had a different mentality about money-- one of the things I've kind of wondered if it could be inherited genetically, but probably not.

Once I got married and had kids I became too preoccupied to nag my parents too much about their health or their finances, but I did still try. My dad was a chain smoker for most of his life and I bugged him about that. He was always losing weight on the Atkins diet and then gaining it back-- and then some. My mom had fake boobs (that's a whoooole other counseling session) and they burst and made her really sick and she ended up with lupus and arthritis. My dad predictably ended up with diabetes and heart disease that culminated in a massive heart attack he barely survived.

Needless to say, their health is poor.

Oh but wait, there's more. Oh so much more.

The heart attack put my dad off his feet for almost a year. He'd had his own business for over 20 years but it was a one man shop and there was no one to take up the slack. I asked my mom about that, but everything was fine. But I knew that wasn't the case because my dad had taken a loan out against the house in a business gamble that was poorly thought out and didn't go well. I don't know how much he lost, but it wasn't pretty.

Fast forward two years or so. My brother comes home from Thailand to settle some business and he stays with my parents for a couple of months. He starts telling me they aren't doing well financially. I knew it was bad but I didn't know the extent of it. My brother tells me he loaned my dad $100k, and I'm thinking, wow it is bad. So I bring it up with my mom to try to find out how bad. She didn't know about the loan. Boy, my mom can wear blinders with the best of them.

Cut to the final tally-- $600k borrowed against the house and $200k+ on the credit cards. Holy crap! $800k+ in debt and my dad's business was losing money. My mom makes my dad shut down shop since it's losing money-- and here's the kicker-- my dad doesn't go back to work claiming his health is too poor. WTF? He's been getting up and going to work everyday up to that point but now that the debt is so bad he can't see daylight he quits working altogether? Oh wait, I get it, he thinks he can sell their house for enough money to cover the debt and then some. Except he forgot that the California housing market is going into the crapper.

I found about all this about a year and a half ago.

So my dad's brilliant idea is to sell the house to cover everything. And it might have worked had they sold the house a year and a half ago. But they decided to go to Thailand since my brother and his wife were expecting a baby. They stayed 6 weeks. They come home and tell me they've decided they're now going to sell the house and move to Thailand. Okaaaaaay. Actually, this is okay. They can live on social security and get pretty good health care much cheaper than here. And because my dad can't go to a McDonald's everyday and further abuse his health his blood sugar is the best it's ever been. I tell them I whole-heartedly support the plan.

So you'd think they were on the fast-track to sell the house right? Um, no.

My dad dinks around for several months supposedly getting the house ready, but really he's just moving stuff from one pile to the next. My mom doesn't nag him to move along because she doesn't really want to move to Thailand and she's hoping for a last minute miracle. It doesn't come. January, they finally get the house on the market, but price it about $100k too high. This in a falling market too. My husband and I talk to the realtor and get their appraisal on the house and try to talk sense into my dad. He blows us off. My mom stops talking to me because she doesn't want to hear me nagging anymore. My dad starts smoking again, and my mom won't do anything about that because she doesn't want to stress out my dad any further. Yeah, those cigarettes aren't stressing out his arteries at all.

At about this time my in-laws start in on their divorce crisis-- I will probably go into this later. It's just too good a story to pass up.

So the house sits for months and as far as I know, no offers. Then I find out they did get an offer but my dad rejected it because it was too low. My mom tells me the offer was for $700k, but I later find out it was $785k. But my mom's lies are nothing new (my dad is actually my step-dad, though he's the only dad I've ever known. She told me years ago he couldn't legally adopt me because her ex wouldn't sign off on the adoption. But during the purge of all their stuff she inadvertently gave me a copy of a letter dated 1977 giving my dad consent to adopt me. Nice huh? But I'm used to it. Sort of.)

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Eight months later my dad finally realizes the house is priced too high. He lowers it to $800k (it was at $950K in the beginning). Alright, we're making progress. He's also really regretting he didn't take that earlier offer.

Now they sit. They've sold off most of their stuff to keep the rent paid but they've finally run out of money and stopped paying the mortgage. They are praying they can sell before the house forecloses. My brother who lent them the $100k is now broke and calls me periodically for money. Sigh. We don't have a big enough house to have them move in with us and did I mention, we live in California? It's still crazy expensive here and we can't buy a big enough house for all of us.

And I am ashamed to admit, in moments of reflection, like this, that I'm glad I'm adopted. I don't have an addictive personality, manic depression, heart disease, diabetes and all the other stuff in the bloodline. Of course I don't know what I do have to contend with, but maybe that's a gift.

So we all sit on eggshells. I blog about my personal stuff because I don't have anyone to talk to about this. We moved almost every year growing up (I went to 11 different schools) so I don't have any childhood friends and frankly, I'm not good at making them as an adult. And really, is it fair of me to dump this on some poor unsuspecting soul?

Oh wait, I just did.

Marcia Marcia Marcia Indeed!

2007-09-25T00:06:00.000-07:00

I'm back at it. But the celebrities just won't stop the insanity.

In case you missed it, Maureen McCormack-- Marica Brady for those of you who've lived under a rock for the last 30 years-- has decided to divulge some, er, interesting details about her relationship with her TV sister Jan.

My only question is why? Okay, I get it, the more salacious the details the more books she'll sell. But jeez, does she need to sell her dignity too?

Apparently so.

What Do I Look Like? A Mom?

2007-09-23T18:39:00.000-07:00

My little dude (3 years old) woke up with a fever this morning. Actually, he woke up at about 1:30am and proceeded to whine the rest of the night. Ugh.

The thing is, I don't really know what to do when my kids are like this. Mostly, I'm just glad they're not throwing up.

My son, bless his heart, is going through a mommy stage too. If any of you have been through this before, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If we go out in public, he must be carried by mommy. Mommy must be the one to hold his hand, etc. etc. So of course, since he is sick during his mommy phase, he only wants mommy to comfort him.

On one level, this is great. We all want our little monsters to love us right? But on the other hand it's also exhausting. I find myself saying don't you want daddy to hold you? a lot these days.

So, today my son has spent the whole day lying in my bed in a kind of lethargic stupor. My husband, myself and my daughter have taken turns keeping him company but he keeps kicking everyone out and demanding that I go back and lay with him. Sweet, but kind of boring after 4 hours of Power Rangers.

I really, really hope he feels better tomorrow.

Could This Get Any Weirder?

2007-09-17T10:14:00.000-07:00

I had no intention of turning this page into a celebrity blog, but it seems I can't help myself. The foibles of people in the public eye offers a never ending flow of jaw dropping stupidity that must be remarked upon.

So now that that's been established, let's talk O.J.

I had actually thought about putting up a post last week about the release of O.J.'s book "If I did It," but it almost seemed too grotesque to even bring up. Then I watched the interviews of the Ron Goldman family on Oprah (with a separate interview of Nicole Brown's sister, Denise) and almost put up a post about that. And yet, for some reason I wasn't moved to post until now.

I'm sure if any of you read or watch the news you've heard all about O.J.'s most recent arrest. I mean, does it get any more surreal than this?

If you haven't heard about it, let me fill you in. O.J. claims that someone stole a bunch of property from him and was attempting to sell it illegally. The best part of this is that O.J. didn't go to the police but decided to get some guns, and some help and attempt to steal back the items at gunpoint.

That O.J. It doesn't seem possible that so much common sense exists in one person does it?

The thing that really sticks out here though is the fact that O.J. has really decided he's bulletproof. And why not? He got away with murder and everyone knows it. It's always been galling that O.J. has been so in-your-face with his acquittal. I don't think I've ever seen more arrogance in my life.

Of course, it's not enough that he got away with murder, he also had to write a book saying, oh, and here's how I did it. (As an aside, I didn't expect to have any sympathy for the Goldman family for releasing this book, but they made a surprisingly good case on the Oprah show. Even Oprah, who is convinced she's Jesus IMO, seemed more inclined to be sympathetic toward their position by the end of the show) And now, he figures, hey, I got away with all that, so I might as well do this.

The only thing that shocks me anymore is that the Goldman family hasn't hired someone to put O.J. out of our collective misery.

The good news is that O.J was arrested without bail and if (big if) he is convicted on these charges he could get 30 years on each count-- adding up to something like 250+ years.

Wouldn't that be something?

Who Doesn't Love a Good Celebrity Meltdown?

2007-09-10T16:02:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I'm so fascinated by publicly broadcast train-wrecks, but I know I'm not alone.

Who hasn't been talking about Britney Spears lately? Obviously the bungee cord that held her brain together snapped a long time ago, but it's just sad to watch this thing going on and on.

Sometimes I hear people want to jump on the media/paparazzi for broadcasting this stuff, but I have a different take on that.

Years ago I worked for a TV show as an Associate Producer and got to know a little about how the business works. There was a Senior Producer I worked for who loathed....no...HATED George Clooney. With a passion. Why? Well, back in the day when Clooney was lucky to get a few lines on Roseanne, his dad, Nick, worked for as a TV reporter. My Senior Producer worked for a lot of tabloid shows back then, A Current Affair and Hard Copy among them. He told me that he worked with Nick Clooney on one of these shows, but I can't find anything to confirm that (intentional omission on Nick Clooney's bio I'm sure). Anyway, my boss said George used to come in and beg for publicity. He'd plead for them to do any little snippet on him so he could get some more on-air time to boost his career.

Fast forward 10 years or so. Clooney now has a prime time gig on ER and is starting to make it on the big screen. He's a big shot now. Princess Diana is killed in a tragic car accident and the paparazzi are implicated. Who is the first actor to attack the press? Clooney. How does he do it? By calling a press conference and denouncing all the tabloid shows, naming Hard Copy specifically. He's such a hot shot now he doesn't need the press anymore apparently. Not that that has stopped People magazine from repeatedly naming him the "Sexiest Man of the Year." I guess the tabloid press is okay if we like what they are saying.

I don't have any particular ax to grind with Clooney in particular. It's just that I've seen this time and again. Celebrities know what they are doing when they put themselves in front of the paparazzi. When Sharon Stone decided to make a public statement against gun ownership (not long after the Columbine massacre) and turned in her rifle (rifle?) to the local police department, you can bet good money that she called the press and made sure they were going to be there. In fact, I bet she bought the rifle just for the occasion.

So while it's sad to watch Britney continue to melt down, just realize that each time you see her without her underwear in public, not only has she likely planned the exposure, but there's a good chance she called ahead to make sure the press would be there to cover it. Somehow this poor child has convinced herself that attention from the press either equates a still viable career or, pathetically, someone still cares about her. Does that make her fair game for the press and pundits? Frankly, yes. Does that make it okay when people go after her kids? No.

Honestly, I wish Britney would learn to isolate herself from the press. I wish she'd find a secluded space, far far away and at least try to get well.

Why Hasn't the Hammer Fallen on This Kid Yet?

2007-09-07T12:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone watches the reality TV show about Hulk Hogan called "Hogan Knows Best." My husband watches it but I find the family insufferable and stopped watching it almost immediately.

One of the reason I can't stand it is because Hulk, and his wife Linda, spoil the kids, Nick and Brook, beyond belief. They fabricated a music career for Brook despite any evidence of talent and then sponsored their (then) 16 year old son in a career as race car driver (drifting). Huh? Who the hell thinks it's a good idea to give a 16 year old a Dodge Viper and say here son, why don't you race down the track in this? Is it any surprise that the kid got four speeding tickets within one year of getting his drivers license-- at least two were over 100mph.

How was this kid's license not pulled?

So, predictably, a kid is in the hospital after Hogan's kid got into an accident almost 2 weeks ago. The passenger is still in the hospital now.

So WTF? Why hasn't anything been done yet?

Hulk Hogan is of course claiming his kid didn't do anything wrong. He says his son wasn't racing (despite numerous witness statements to the contrary) and that the media is being "unfair" in bringing up Nick's driving record. Way to go dad. Way to teach your son how to take accountability for his actions.

But it gets better. The mom of the passenger, still in critical condition, is defending the Hogan family. Now, I don't want to call her a sell out-- that wouldn't be fair, especially since her son is still clinging to life in the hospital. But it is public knowledge that the Hogans are paying the medical bills (as they should) and I can't help wonder if there has been talk of a monetary settlement between the two families. I'm betting they've already begun negotiating numbers.

What really pi$$es me off about this whole deal is how the Hogan family is treating the whole thing. Oh boo hoo, poor Nick is being beat up by the press. Our poor baby didn't do anything wrong. But he's trying to keep a stiff upper lip and get on with his life....

Are you kidding me?

And somewhere in all this the police are supposedly investigating this thing, but so far nothing has been done. Nada. Why? Because Nick's the spoiled brat kid of some celebrity and no one wants to step on the toes of anyone famous. We wouldn't want to offend anybody.

This whole thing infuriates the heck out of me.

Me Me Me Meme

2007-08-27T10:49:00.000-07:00

Sfgirl tagged me with a fun, self-indulgent (are there any other kind?) meme. This one is the "your name" meme and the rules are as follows:

1) Go to http://www.google.com/

2) Click on Google images
3) Type in your name and search
4) Repost (w/ a link) the picture of the oddest, craziest, strangest, coolest, oldest, etc. person that shares your name. Post multiples if you find a few you like.
5) Have fun with it and pass it on.

My real name is Theresa. I suppose I could do the meme with SQT, but I usually get a bunch of technical sites, so I'll skip it.

From Wikipedia: The meaning of the name Theresa, or Teresa, is "one who reaps". The name implies one who is destined to work hard, but who will receive great bounty for her efforts. The name is associated with the fall season of the earth's life cycle: a time of harvest, of plenty, of purposeful labors, of warmth and generosity. Theresa shares her harvest with the world, as the earth has given its fruits to Theresa, thus respecting and supporting the natural cycle of life.

Yeesh, that sounds exciting doesn't it? Okay, lets see who shares my name.

This adorable girl shares my exact name: Theresa Lucas, though she spells her name Teresa. She is on an acting school website, so I'd say it's safe to say she's an aspiring actress.

This is a picture of the Hotel Theresa in Harlem. Apparently it's quite famous. Way back when it first opened in 1913 only white guests were accepted. This changed in 1940 and since then the guest roster has included, Louis Armstrong, Sugar Ray Robinson, Lena Horne, Josephine Baker, Dorothy Dandridge, Duke Ellington, Muhammad Ali and even Fidel Castro.

Well, there's just no getting around the fact that most Theresa's that can claim an Irish Catholic background were probably named after St. Theresa. I was in fact named after my mom, who was named after St. Theresa. This picture is The Ecstasy of St. Theresa, it is the central marble group of a sculpture complex designed and completed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini for the Cornaro Chapel of Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome. And it is one of the sculptural masterpieces of High Roman Baroque.

This is probably my favorite find. I found this Teresa Lucas on a Benny Hill website. Apparently she was one of "Hill's Angels" and was most notably featured in a segment called "Love Machine."

That's all I found right off that got my attention. As usual I'm not going to actually tag anyone, though if you want to do this one, consider yourself tagged. If you like meme's do this one. It's kind of fun to find out a little history on your own name.

Redemption

2007-06-13T00:20:00.001-07:00

Time again for another assignment from Stewart Sternberg. This one is supposed to incorporate the line I see things in darkness that no should see by light of day... We are also supposed to pick ten words from our writing and use a thesaurus to replace them with other words rich with meaning. .....Oh, and should I mention that Father Stewart is an homage to our own Mr. Sternberg??

I see things in darkness that no one should see by light of day.

I prefer the darkness.

"Father Stewart!"

I turn my head as I hear my name and see a novice running in my direction with her braids flying in cadence with her footsteps.

"Father" she gasps out as she comes to a stop in front of me.

"Yes daughter?"

"Brother Isaac asks for you, he says it's urgent."

I raise my eyebrows. Isaac has been working on a special task for me and I know he wouldn't have sent for me if it wasn't, in fact, urgent.

"Thank you my child." I say as I bless her with a caress across the cheek before I walk away.

I don't need to ask where Isaac is and I head down a side corridor without another word to the novice who had come for me. So preoccupied am I with concern over Isaac that I almost trip over a woman scrubbing the floor in the middle of the hallway. A rebuke is on my lips before I realize it is Kara and I stop myself before uttering any angry words.

Kara holds a special place in my heart; she was my first. The first soul I saved. Kara had been a prostitute in her old life and the conflict between her profession and her conscience had brought her to my doorstep many years ago. I was early in my calling and perhaps a bit too earnest in my desire to help my flock find redemption and Kara's mind had been altered more than I intended. She ended up simple and capable of little more small chores. But her soul is no longer in danger of being lost and that is all that matters.

Kara doesn't talk as she looks up at me nor does she smile; rather she just stares as is her way. Though I am in a hurry I kneel down and gently wipe a bit of spittle from Kara's lip before looking into her eyes for some sign of recognition. But her focus is elsewhere and I know it is the will of God that her mind has been removed from most mundane concerns. I guide her hand back to her scrubbing and continue on my way.

The church has grown over the years and odd corridors have been added as space was needed. I had seen to the building of rooms for my personal use and had found them very useful on many occasions.

Isaac is the only person I have come to trust with my secrets though I am not sure the One God will consider him worthy to take over for me once I have taken my place at my God’s side. I am sure He will reveal His will to me in time as He has done in the past.

The hallways are very dim as I do not light many torches to show the way. I believe sin divulges its secrets in the darkness and I have made the night my servant. Many people have walked these passageways with me as I gave them the opportunity to meditate on their transgressions without the light to distract them.

As I come closer to my destination I can hear Isaac’s voice echoing off the walls and can’t help but frown in concern; this has never happened before.

Picking up my pace I quickly come to the door I am looking for and Isaac’s muffled words begin to take on some clarity. I listen at the door so I don’t walk into the situation unprepared.

“You wanted this!” Isaac yells “This is your only chance, you know that!”

The reply is too indistinct to hear.

“You cannot change your mind!” Isaac continues, but the rest is lost as he lowers his voice. It doesn’t matter, I know enough.

I open the door and enter quickly, hoping to catch the man who is the object of Isaac’s attention in an unguarded moment.

He is sitting in a chair in the middle of a room devoid of any ornamentation and only the light of a single candle. He is not physically changed from the last time I saw him other than the sweat on his brow though it is not uncommon for people sitting in that chair to leave with far more gray hair than they started with.

I see fear and pain on his face but not enough determination to worry me. Fear is easy to deal with; it’s the pain I must convince him is necessary for his salvation.

I look at Isaac in sadness, I had expected more of him. Properly rebuked he looks down at the ground and steps back.

I have compassion for the man in front of me. What he has chosen to do is not easy but he must find the courage to continue; the fate of his soul depends upon it.

"Brother Markus."

His attention is drawn to me even though I speak his name in the barest of whispers. His hair is wet from perspiration and his eyes are shot through with red but his gaze never wavers from my face as he listens to my voice.

"Why have you weakened my son?"

"I can't... this isn't right...." His voice is hoarse and weak and he swallows convulsively. I watch him silently and wait for him to continue.

"I didn't know." He quietly begins to sob. "I didn't know."

I lay my hand on his arm half expecting him to flinch but he doesn't. I am not the one who has been the deliverer of his punishment so he does not fear my touch.

I wait until he is composed enough to hear me before I speak again.

"You have not been here long, have you my son?" I ask him.

He looks confused and does not answer.

"You have only been under Isaac's care for two days now," I explain patiently. "Yet you have many years of sin to atone for. Do you believe God will only punish you for two days after you sit in judgment before him?"

His mouth works but still no words emerge. I grip his arm harder in my desire to make him understand.

"I am offering you eternal bliss my son! All that you must do is be willing to suffer God's retribution in your mortal body to save your soul. How can you waver now? I am giving you the greatest gift I can bestow."

Tears are running silently down his face and I can see acceptance in his eyes. I run my hand across his forehead and murmur words of encouragement. I realize it was a mistake to allow Isaac to take my place so soon and know I will have to finish this myself.

Before Markus has a chance to become more upset I place my hands on either side of his head and let the power flow from my hands into his body. His eyes roll up into his head as his body begins to convulse from the pain, though I do not allow him to lapse into unconsciousness. He must be aware or God will not accept this reckoning.

I can feel the weight of his sins flow into my body and savor the rapture I feel in his deliverance. I have missed this feeling and realize that Isaac's failure was God's way of enlightening me that I must continue this work myself. Slowly I allow the flow of power to fade from my hands and watch Markus slump in the chair. I kiss his forehead in blessing before I stand and turn my attention to Isaac.

"I am afraid you were not ready to take my place my son." I shake my head sadly, "And I had not thought you would need to return to the chair so soon."

Original words...............................Replaced by
Salvation....................................Redemption
Simple.......................................Mundane
Corridors....................................Passageways
Sins.........................................Transgressions
Punishment...................................Retribution
Give.........................................Bestow
Project......................................Task
Euphoria.....................................Rapture
Telling......................................Enlightening
Understanding................................Acceptance

Some Small Adjustments

2007-05-09T10:55:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone will come here to read any of my 3 part story that began with "Mark" and continued with "Aftermath" and "Dangerous Lines." I've decided to take them down because I am reworking the story to enter it into a short story writing contest. I am only keeping a small portion of it and completely redoing most of it to make it an original story. But since it is based on a story that I started here on the blog, I wanted to take it down so there wouldn't be any conflict or reason I couldn't get it published. If, on the off hand, anyone wants to read the originals, email me and I will send them to you.

Thanks.

Renewal

2007-03-13T18:01:00.000-07:00

Here it is, the latest Stewart Sternberg assignment. The theme is renewal.

Sara heard a man in the line talking about fear. He had two men to either side of him and seemed to like the audience.

"Fear is like a blanket you see, it covers you, smothers you......"

Sara listened with growing contempt. She had been walking in line with the rest of the refugees for the last two days. Like most of the sad group she didn't have a blanket, or any other supplies for that matter. Her face had worn down to the bone, closely resembling the threadbare condition of her jacket.

How could anyone who had ever felt real fear compare it to a blanket? A blanket enveloped you with warmth and comfort.

Fear stripped you bare.

She had been living in a shell that used to be a home. At night she huddled in the corner of the rubble strewn bedroom and tried to stay away from the window and the yellow eyes that looked inside. It had taken less than one night before she gave up the comfort of blanket in favor of using it to cover the window. She didn't know why the creatures that scratched outside the door never came in and she wasn't about to ask.

She wanted to tell the man that she knew what fear tasted like, the coppery feel of it on her tongue and the dryness it left behind. She wanted to tell him that when he talked about naked fear, then he would know what he was talking about. But she wasn't interested enough to waste the time.

Sara didn't have any kids and she knew what a blessing that was right now. Maybe once it was a dream, but no longer. She watched mothers, and the few fathers who were still left, herd their children over the rocky terrain. She saw the fear in their eyes as they gave what little food there was to the kids, not daring to think that more would come soon.

The hills they traveled through were dark. The scouts were trying to shelter them from the sun and the eyes of wandering-- something. Scott had left months ago to fight against those who would take their home, but no one expected that things out of nightmares would materialize when before only guns and bombs had been used. Once she saw the eyes at the window, she knew better than to expect his return.

She had been pulled out of her village two days ago in what was being called a rescue if one insisted on believing it possible. There had been rumors that the one who coveted their land was sending more men and more creatures to drive them out. It didn't take much persuasion to convince the few people left to leave.

So here she was, listening to a man she'd never seen before talk about something he knew nothing about.

Then it started with a howling in the North end of the gorge, about a half mile back. The sounds were alarmingly loud for so far away and coming toward them fast. Sara wasn't a fast runner and she knew her only hope was to hide and maybe get lost in the confusion. There were more than a dozen families with twice as many kids who had the same idea and she tripped over several screaming people who were trying to herd their children toward some sort of shelter. She almost ran down a girl who couldn't have been more than two who was sitting in the middle of the road crying for her mother. Sara looked frantically around but didn't see anyone claiming the child. Without thinking she scooped her up and kept running.

By this time the howling was so loud she couldn't think. She made it to the nearest blanket of scrub she could find and ducked under it with the child. Desperate to save herself and the girl she held her hand over the girls mouth and crying in terror kept shushing the child to keep her quiet. Soon the wailing was so loud Sara didn't even bother trying to keep the girl quiet as she didn't think it would make any difference. Wind whipped at her face as the noise reached a crescendo and she thought her ears would bleed.

The noise stopped so abruptly she didn’t realize it at first.

It seemed as if it was over too fast. Too easy. Sara couldn't force herself to move, finding strange comfort and warmth in holding the child despite the violent quaking of the girl's little body.

It was the calls of desperate parents that brought her out of her spell; that and the frantic squirming of the girl.

No one claimed the child at first and Sara feared that her parents had been lost with the people they were just realizing had been taken with the noise and the wind.

“Emma!”

The child immediately responded to her name and took off running toward her mother, without a backward glance at Sara, who was too numb to care.

It was a weirdly detached group that continued on. There were people missing but no one held any illusions that they would be found. The leaders of the group hurried them on with promises of shelter before nightfall.

Sara listened for the man whom she had heard speaking earlier but he appeared to be among the missing. That made her sad for some reason.

But then the most unexpected thing happened. The trail emptied out of the hills they had been traveling for the last two days and sloped gently down into a valley that looked so green, so alive to Sara’s tired eyes. Shouts came from the group as a large city came into view and it looked as if their strange journey was coming to an end.

There were even people waiting for their group to arrive.

Sara couldn't fathom who could possibly be waiting for the people of her village, or why. She barely spared a glance for the people grouped at the bottom of the trail when for some reason a figure holding onto a crutch caught her eye. Something in the way he stood........

“Scott!”

The name exploded from her as she felt the blood rush to her face. She started running though her legs felt as if they might collapse.

“Sara!”

She knew she wasn’t mistaken when she heard Scott call her name. Running full out she almost crashed directly into him until she realized he couldn’t stand on his own. But before she could fully stop, Scott threw the crutch to the side and limped into her embrace.

And for the first time in too long, Sara dared to let herself feel hope in a warm, blanketing hug.

Copper and Patch

2007-01-24T10:46:00.000-08:00

Here's my latest writing assignment from Stewart Sternberg. This one is supposed to be from the perspective of a pet.

Copper didn't like the puppy.

Puppies have no dignity she told him.

Patch was all wiggles and puppy enthusiasm and Copper wanted no part of that. Copper was sure she had never been so excitable. She had watched over two fine children and she couldn't love them more if they were her own pups.

The family had managed to carve out their own bit of green in the desert, but Copper knew all too well the hazards the could have threatened her charges. She could smell on the wind when the wild dogs were near and she knew how to sniff out the hidey holes of the snakes who might strike out at moving legs.

Puppies did not know how to watch over children properly.

Copper loved her home. She loved to roam the ranch, bark hello to the horses and steal food from the pigs. As long as she could remember she'd follow the kids as they did their chores; patiently waiting until they had time to throw a stick for her and pat her glossy coat when she returned it to them. She most definitely didn't like to play fetch when Patch was around.

Patch had started to make it his habit to trot at her heels as she followed the kids. Sometimes Copper would give Patch a quick nip to remind him that she was boss. But puppies are forgetful and it usually wasn't long before Patch would jump on Copper's back, earning another scolding.

Remember your place she would growl at him.

She also was quite affronted that her family didn't seem to mind the pup's inappropriate enthusiasm. So she continued to hold herself aloof whenever the family would laugh and encourage the mad frenzy of puppy energy that Patch regularly displayed.

But as pups do, Patch would tire in the early evening and sleep long enough for Copper to have time with the family to herself. She would lay herself flat as she could in front of the TV so the kids could lay their heads on her belly as they watched their shows. Close proximity to kids often meant treats given when the parents weren't looking too.

But there was an unusual amount of activity on this late Fall day and Copper followed Dad around with her ears perked forward trying to figure out what was going on. And then she heard the word that let her know what all the excitement was about; hunting.

Oh, Copper loved to hunt. It didn't matter if it was ducks or deer, just so long as she got to run into the woods and help flush out game. Copper didn't know that she had the nose and breeding for hunting, she just knew it felt right. She couldn't help but wiggle with excitement as she followed Dad around the house, her body quivering under his hand as he reached down to pet her.

"You know where we're going tomorrow don't 'cha girl?" Dad said and she barked with excitement.

Copper got a little carried away and woke up Patch. After yawning and stretching the pup came in and wagged his tail in response to Copper's excitement.

"Look Copper, you'll have Patch to help you this year, won't 'cha girl?"

Copper's ears drooped a little and she tried to plead with her eyes to have this one thing to herself. But Dad just ruffled her ears and kept on with his preparations.

I get to go too! I get to go too! said Patch as he ran in circles around Copper.

Copper barked sharply at Patch, behave! But Patch was too excited to listen.

So Copper resigned herself to a hunting trip with the puppy.

You do what I tell you to do she instructed Patch, though she didn't think he'd listen.

The family got up before dawn the next morning since they had to travel closer to the mountains for good hunting. Copper made sure she got the preferred seat between the kids while Patch sort of roamed around the very back of the car.

Are we almost there yet Copper? The pup kept asking.

Copper chuffed at Patch, but didn't bother answering. They'd get there soon enough.

And despite the puppy's company, Copper was in a grand mood. She was with her family and they were going hunting.

The weather was still warm, though the promise of Winter hung in the early morning air. Copper edged over to the window and scented the air, though they were going to fast to really catch a single odor. But she knew by the familiar smells they were getting close to their destination. Forest foliage flew by the window as they left the last of their desert home behind.

Once they hit the rutted dirt road that led to the cabin, Copper began to get excited. She stood over Younger Brother and looked out the window, waiting for the cabin to come into view. Patch didn't know what to look for, but taking his cues from Copper, he began to excitedly jump around the back.

Soon they were there and Copper bounded out the door as soon as it was open. Knowing that the family liked to get settled before they'd head out, she followed Dad as he put away the supplies. Patch made a general nuisance of himself by running under everyone's feet.

Once they started laying out gear by the front door Copper knew it was almost time to go. Mom would stay back at the cabin with Younger Sister since they didn't like to hunt, while Dad, Older Brother and Younger Brother would go out with the dogs.

Dad had brought something he called a "bow" which let Copper know they were hunting deer this time. And though Dad also brought the "rifle" he never brought the "bow" when they were hunting duck.

We're hunting a big four legged animal called a "deer" she told Patch.

What does it look like? he asked.

It's very tall, with long skinny legs. Just follow me and I'll show you.

Once Dad and the boys starting putting on their gear Copper almost danced with anticipation.

"Copper! Patch! Time to go!" Dad called out and they began their trek into the woods.

Copper roamed ahead with her nose to the ground trying to scent out deer for Dad to bring down. She could smell old tracks and sometimes followed them for awhile to see if they led to a common path or a drinking hole. But usually she'd come across a newer scent and veer off on that trail instead. Patch hung at her heels trying to recognize the unfamiliar scents on the ground but mostly followed Copper since he didn't know what he was looking for. Dad and the boys fanned out behind the dogs ready to run if Copper bayed to let them know she scented their quarry.

Before long Copper found a recent trail and began to trot at a faster pace to let her family know she was on the trail.

"Looks like she found something boys," Dad always called out as they picked up the pace to keep up.

And sure enough Copper saw a flash of the deer's white tail as it turned and bounded into the woods. Baying loudly Copper took off after the deer leaving Patch to try to catch up as Dad and the boys took off at a run after Copper and the deer.

Copper was able to cut through the trees and grass quickly since she was low to the ground. She kept baying loudly, as she had been taught, so that the hunters knew where to follow and stay on the trail. Patch struggled to keep up, and tripped over fallen branches as he ran, but he could scent Copper on the ground so he knew where to follow.

Amid lots of baying, yelling and crashing though the underbrush, Dad yelled out that he had sighted the deer and the boys stayed back as Dad took his shot.

"I think I got her!" Dad yelled, though it was hard to tell since the deer kept running.

Copper stayed on the trail and within a few yards spotted blood drops on the ground and knew Dad had in fact hit the deer. Copper barked to get Dad's attention and he ran over to see what Copper had found.

"There's blood, hopefully she won't go too much further," he told Older Brother as he walked up and they began to follow Copper further into the forest.

Patch caught up as they slowed down and again began to trot right behind Copper as she followed the blood trail to try to find the injured deer.

Copper was intent on the deer's trail and barely lifted her nose off the ground as the scent of fear and blood got stronger as she began to gain on the deer. The trees were thick and there weren't many breaks in the forest so Copper slowed down to let her family keep up. There was a lot of blood on the ground so she knew the deer was too injured to go fast enough or far enough to get away. Sure enough she soon saw the deer thrashing weakly on the ground near a large rock outcropping and she bayed again to let Dad know she'd found her target.

Copper sat down and didn't go any closer to the deer as she had been trained and waited for Dad to catch up. She could hear her family crashing in the woods behind her and knew they were almost there. Patch reached her first and wiggled with excitement and ran in circles around her.

Why are you waiting here Copper? Isn't it more fun to grab the deer?

WE don't grab the deer she told the pup that's Dad's job.

Younger Brother was actually the first to arrive.

"Good job Copper!" He told her as ran his hand over her head. "You too Patch!" He said as he tried to pet the excited puppy.

Not bothering to wait for Dad, Younger Brother started approaching the now still deer. He had almost reached her when a loud noise high up on the rocks suddenly startled Copper and she caught a scent that caused a thrill of alarm to go through her body.

BIG CAT! BIG CAT! was all she had time to think as a tremendous yowl sounded through the valley. Younger Brother fell back in alarm as he realized there was an enormous mountain lion perched on the rocks just above where the deer had come to rest during it's final struggle.

Copper bunched her legs and began to launch herself to where Younger Brother lay in an attempt to get there before the big cat could attack.

The cat screamed again and jumped down from the rocks and landed in front of the deer and faced off toward Younger Brother in an attempt to keep him away from the deer.

Panicked, Copper started barking and running toward the deer, but before she could get there a flash of white and black fur suddenly appeared in front of the cat barking furiously. Copper realized that Patch had instinctively run at the cat in an attempt to protect Younger Brother.

Knowing that the little dog would not be a match for the big cat Copper redoubled her efforts and launched herself at the cat just as it raised a massive paw to bat the little dog away from her. Just as the cat brought it's paw down Copper landed right between the cat and Patch and she felt the stinging pain of the cat's claws as they raked across her right flank.

Yelping in pain, Copper nonetheless held her ground and began to growl furiously at the cat. Patch stayed close barking in a high pitched frenzy as the cat reared up and prepared to launch itself at Copper again.

BOOM!

Dad had arrived and fired the rifle toward the cat, but wide so it wouldn't hit the dogs.

Reacting to the noise the cat fell back crouched facing the newest threat.

BOOM!

The rifle fired again and cat fell back once again, not getting up this time.

Knowing the immediate danger was over, Copper sank the ground and began licking her flank, whimpering a bit at the pain.

Dad hurried over to the dogs and began looking over Copper's injury.

Are you ok Copper? Patch asked anxiously as he laid down in front of Copper nose to nose worriedly seeing if she was ok.

Copper looked up at the pup. Licking his ear gently she quietly said to him.

You did good Patch, real good. I couldn't be prouder of you if you were my own pup.

Gently scooping up Copper into his arms, Dad picked her up and without a single look back at the fallen cat began to carry her back to the cabin, and Copper knew everything would be alright. Their family was safe.

Head Rush

2007-01-10T09:05:00.000-08:00

This assignment is again from Stewart Sternberg of House of Sternberg. It's supposed to be about unrequited love from the gender perspective opposite my own. And the main character is supposed to have a handicap, imagined or otherwise. Here goes...

She's late again. This is the third time this week. I wonder what's causing the deviation in her schedule. I have been keeping track for months and this is the first time she's been this far off.

I feel a little panicked. I shouldn't have gone off my meds, but I can't focus when I'm medicated. I need to be able to concentrate. I need......

My mind has wandered again. That scares me. I stopped taking the clozapine so I could C O N C E N T R A T E.

I breath deeply, in and out my nose, in and out. I can feel the oxygen clearing my mind, giving me life, giving me direction.

God, she's beautiful. Beeeuuutiifuuuuullll. She's wearing black today. I like her in pink better. Pastels set off her eyes. I think about the colors I've seen her in. I lose myself in a kaleidoscope of colors, imagining each one on her skin. I can almost see yellow swirls forming in the shiny surface of her shoes. That’s better, a little color to brighten things up.

I follow her as she leaves her apartment. She’s off schedule by seven minutes, I counted off each second as I waited for her front door to open. She doesn’t look in my direction, but then, she never does. She’s focused on where she’s going as always. I carefully count off fifteen steps before I follow. I don’t like to be closer, I’m not ready for our auras to touch.

She passes the coffee shop. She doesn’t stop. Why doesn’t she stop? She always stops. I can feel the panic welling up in me. I can’t take this much deviation in schedule. It scares me. Why is she not going in? I stand in front of the coffee shop, indecisive. I want to go in. I need to go in. I need to see her order a mocha latte. She’s walking away, she’s walking down the sidewalk but I can’t seem to move.

A man jostles me as he tries to get past me.

“Shit man, you’re blocking the door...”

I stumble forward a step. This is good. It moves me toward her. It was meant to be. I turn to thank the man for helping me, but he’s gone. Tears spring to my eyes, where’d he go? I need to thank him before I can follow her.

“THANK YOU!” I yell. I hope he hears it, I can’t stop to make sure. I have to go, she’s almost twenty feet away from me now and I need to hurry if I want to make sure she stays within the fifteen foot distance I am comfortable with.

Okay, I know she has to be at work. I speed my steps up. I alternate between watching the ground for cracks and looking at her back. I noticed a long time ago that she doesn’t step on the cracks either. That’s how I know she understands me. She doesn’t want to fall through either, she knows the darkness that waits underneath.

I catch up. I feel better. Things are back to normal. I count her steps, yes, fifteen steps apart. Okay.

She passes the front door of her office and keeps going.

Blind rage fills me. What is she doing? Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I start to run, fourteen feet, ten, eight, six....I’ve never been this close to her before. But I have to get her back to her office. She needs to go back. The world will fly apart if she doesn’t go back.

I’m yelling now.

“Back! Back! You must go back!.”

She stops and turns around. She looks at me. She looks confused. She’s lost and I have to help her go back. I reach her and grab her arm.

“BACK!”

“Let go of me!” she yells.

“BACK!”

“Get off me!”

“BACK!”

I feel arms on me, pulling me off of her. But she stops moving. That’s good. Now if I can just get her to understand that she needs to go back.

“BACK!” I yell again. My eyes appeal to her but I don’t know if she understands. I try to show her, but my arms won’t move. I look down and see hands holding me.

“Back” I start to cry.

“Back” I whimper as I am taken away from her.

Walter

2006-11-29T19:19:00.000-08:00

This is an exercise in bad writing. I think it took me a little time to get into it. I actually had more writers block with this than I usually do because I found it harder to think of ridiculous metaphores than anything else. But it was fun. I hope you think it stinks!

The holidays were no fun for someone with holes in his pockets.

Walter shuffled down the sidewalk in a lurching kind of motion, his hands in his pockets fingering the hole he had just found all the while looking like a whipped dog that had been drowned too many times.

He had started the day with a fifty in that pocket and had planned to use it on small holiday celebration he had planned just for himself. He had no family, no place to spend Christmas Eve so he figured a room and a prostitute would do just fine. But now his money was gone and he thought finding a whore who would give him a freebie about as likely as finding a needle in a stack of sewing.

He knew the street though and hoped someone would give him some credit. Who knows maybe even whores had the holiday spirit. He knew he looked like a reject from a 70's thrift store but he didn't care. He had never bothered to worry about his looks, the only women who bothered with him were paid to do it. Even on Christmas.

Spotting a woman who was as likely to be a real redhead as O.J. Simpson was as likely to be guilty he lurched to a stop. He thought her name was Fern, but he wasn't sure.

"Ar..Ar...Ar, you Fern?"

"What's it to ya?"

"I.. I.. was loo.. loo lookin' for..somethin'.." he said looking around.

"Yeah?"

Walter just kind of stood there with his head down. Pathetic like a puppy.

"Well, what are ya wastin' my time for?"

Walter shrugged.

"Go on to the Salvation Army will ya? I don't do handouts."

Walter lurched on looking for someone else to talk to. It wasn't fair, being burdened with a stutter. No one wanted to talk to a guy who spit his words like a woodpecker trying to bash it's brains in on a tree at the speed of light.

His walk was kind of like his talk, stuttering. But he kept trying. He was a lonely guy and he hoped to find a lonely gal who didn't have anything better to do than spend the night with him. Pitiful but sad.

He spotted another woman a little further down the street. Coincidentally she was standing in front of the Salvation Army looking a little like someone else's leftovers too. He walked up and stood in front of her but couldn’t find anything to say even though the stutter would have made it really hard anyway.

He just stood.

Apparently she didn’t have much to say either because she just stood quietly too. Finally Walter gathered up his courage and looked up and into eyes as blue as daisies in a field of wheat and asked her name.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Sammy.” She whispered quietly.

Walter thought for a second.

“Hi Sammy..d..d.. do you want to go with me?” He was surprised his stutter wasn’t as bad as is usually was, because it was usually bad.

Sammy closed her eyes and seemed to be thinking, though Walter thought maybe she could sleep on her feet. Who knew?

Finally she opened her eyes and looked at him.

Reaching out she grabbed his hand and they walked down the street like two people who were destined to meet like wolves who mate for life on their first date.