Out of the frying pan..and damn, where did I pack that?!

Did I say I hated moving? I think that was a misunderstanding. I love moving! LOVE it!! In fact, I love it SO much, I think I'll continue to do it for the rest of July! Yes I will! Just for fun even! Don't think I won't!

**Please note: All words above are written by yours truly who's gone completely delirious from lack of sleep, lack of respect, lack of power to do ANYTHING about the fact that yes, she will be moving AGAIN and BEFORE THIS MONTH IS OVER - actually, IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!**

I'm crazy. I'm going insane. No really. It's a fun place. Certainly funner (yes I said 'funner' and yes I KNOW it's not grammatically correct - but do you really want to push a crazy person??! I didn't think so.) than real life where I am right now.

I'll try to be brief: New roommate, Sunny, oy - if he wasn't so damn cut and strong I would try to strangle him! Not that I could, being my weak-ass self..but I'm a scrapper - he'd at least have some serious bruises on his shins. But he LIED to the landlady.. LIED! Why do men insist on stretching the truth? It never works.. just be a friggin man already. And I talked to her cuz he kept whining too damn much - such a boy. She dug me, thought I was a quality gal without me having to convince her specifically - I gots skilz yo.. I tell you, she was impressed and tho frustrated with him, satisfied I wasn't playing games with her especially when I told her about my cat, Emma, whom, according to the lease, she DOESN'T ALLOW, not that I knew that, but she gracefully added her to my temp lease she sent later just cuz I'm so friggin great and honest AND she isn't some cold and heartless bitch who throws a girl out on her ass like uh, the day she moves in. *Sigh of relief that THAT is taken care of.. phew!*

NOW.. onto the other issues: The Sunny of said thoughts in my head having to do with strangulation blurts out last night that this oil heating costs so much now having to only split it amongst the three of us. After a bit of discussion, I'm educated, having never lived in a house with oil heating, that the lovely oil providers bill every single month for the oil-giving because apparently, it's FUCKING EXPENSIVE..so they, you know, break it out to make it reasonably affordable. Um.. $125 a month, even in oh SUMMER is what they call AFFORDABLE?! Helloo - will someone take the CRACK away from the skanky and mean scrooges of oil?!

That clinched it for me, besides the fact tho I like this house, there's no storage in the bathroom. Hell, there isn't even a BATHROOM COUNTER! Um, hi, we might've just met, but do I look like a girl who has no toiletries?! Exactly my point.. I need counter space people.. on which to put hair products, their lids, contacts, the toothbrush & paste, and for fucks sake, the hair dryer! Has anyone ever heard of a woman and her NEEDS?! JesusMary&Joseph..where am I?! In Bizarro World?!

The solution? Well, since I have no idea how to keep this brief like I said, I'll tell you. I'm moving again. I know you didn't believe me before cuz I was crazy when I started this.. seriously.. but it's true. On July 15th I will be going to another random place, this time, not so close to the last one - with new roommates I would like to say I have known forever and we're great friends and better roommates.. however, I met them when I went to see the house YESTERDAY and we got to talking, blah blah blah - and I realized today - ohmygod - I SO need to grow up, get a boyfriend who wants to have a life with me and we move in together and get a friggin condo so I DON'T HAVE TO KEEP DOING THIS AN-Y-MORE!!!!

But I'm doing it.. moving into this house with these girls and trying to find a fourth for the last room. This new place is quirky - pinkish on the outside with teal colored doors.. and in Madison Park of all places - like hey.. welcome to the upper class neighborhood everyone.. and then there's my house - the one they forgot to turn into a mansion or brick Tudor style, but stands stubbornly, like moi, cuz it's not 'new money' or 'old money' for that matter - just old.. still it's got a charm.

Did I mention it's COMPLETELY TRASHED on the inside? Oh yeah.. forgot that minor detail. The former tenants left so much crap it looks like they realized the cops were getting close and skipped town. Plus, wow.. people are pigs.

The good news - and yes, believe it or not, there's a small amount of good news - the property management company is taking care of all that. YAY! They're also ripping up the carpet in the halls and the living room and putting in..wait for it.. hardwoods, new linoleum in the kitchen, painting the kitchen and painting and carpeting the upstairs bedrooms!! We still have to convince them to put in new carpet in the downstairs rooms cuz the carpet is just tragic.. looks like the stuff underneath carpet, threadbare and bubbly.. just.. EW. And don't think I don't hear you thinking.. uh.. you're giving them money before any of this and you have NO IDEA how these changes, however cheap, will look. And you're right - tho remember, you are talking to a crazy person so .. you know, it should make some sense.. and the other rooms are painted really nicely - it could be really cute (crossing fingers, holding breath, and praying to God, Buddha, Zeus - whomever will listen)..

Ok, I'm simply hoping it all works out cuz when they're done financially raping me for the month - and that's everyone, both the new landlady and the newer new landlady - and I'm done moving for the 36th and a half time after picking up and putting down box after box and climbing stair after stair and my poor hands are done being dry and cracked from all the cleaning of every single sink, floor, and counter there is in the WORLD, and I've lost every friend I know cuz they're tired of being roped in to helping me do this shit to myself over and over and I then have to sign contracts in BLOOD to show I'd NEVER ask them to help me WITH ANYTHING again..it's going to be oh, September when I can AFFORD TO EAT again but it doesn't matter cuz I'm going to get myself the longest full body massage I've EVER had...and then collapse into a week-long nap. God, I can't fucking wait!

No place like home

I thought everything was coming together. Like peanut butter and jelly. Like Ben and Jen 2. Like Michael Jackson and acquittals. I mean, I had one person, that's ONE friend people, committed to helping me move Saturday. It seems that moving isn't the thing to do on a projected-to-be beautiful Seattle morning. Who knew? And after what has been a week to top all weeks, a sort of send-me-to-the-mental-hospital-now-cuz-see-how-I'm-stabbing-myself-with-my-pen-cuz-it's-less-painful-than-this-problem-I-have-to-resolve-RIGHT-NOW potpourri of work issues, I thought I saw the proverbial light. I sweetly talked two of my co-workers into bringing their trucks over bright and early, saved myself, at minimum, $50 on a rented truck and did my little happy dance in the hall at 5pm relieved. Boy I was proud of my little eyelash batting.. you really missed a show kids.

I headed out of the office closer to on time than ever this week and that's saying a lot if you knew the kind of week I've had. On the way home, I could barely keep my eyes open and crashed for an hour long power nap once I got there. I woke to the sound of my cell vibrating (it's just the cell people.. keep your minds OUT of the gutter please!) and it was my soon-to-be roommate, Sunny. The short version of his message of bad tidings was that this 5-bedroom house is only leased to 3 people and, after the walk-thru today, the almost-invisible landlady decided to remind him that 3 is the maximum amount of tenants she wants. Seems there was no convincing her that 4 or 5 people could be as responsible and clean and almost exactly just like 3, except, well, not, and she was adamant that only 3 should be living there. After talking to me for a bit, he called her back, courage renewed, and tried to reason with her again.. to no avail. She, of course, had no time to really get into it and is going to call him tomorrow to discuss it further, but I'm guessing she's going to continue to stand her ground and we will all, in short, be fucked.

This..yes..this is definitely a problem. I don't like to move, as is stated very clearly a few times as of late. I can move in - apart from her blocking the access to the doorway - that wouldn't be hard. And, once I'm in, she'd have a difficult time getting me evicted without cause. Seattle is often on the tenant's side when it comes to a lot of rental issues - however, the cost would certainly be more than expected and yours truly needs to save save save - mainly cuz I suck at doing any actual real life saving, but I'm trying to maintain a budget here. AND who the fuck wants to deal with a bitchy landlady every month who doesn't realize she's making money off the people who live there and threatens that very income by being said bitch since uh, we can leave you know.. with only 20 days notice too..duh. Since some people are intent on shooting themselves in the foot, why not just let them? I love watching Darwinism in action, don't you?

So Sunny and I had a talk tonight. Sunny is a sweet guy - really - and you know, a guy. Guy roommate = killer of very small but scary spiders, bbq champion, and general fixer of any small household things broken. I need him. I've only lived with women the last few years and it sucks to throw a bbq party and realize, uh.. who's running the bbq? Three high-pitched 'not me's' later and you're looking at some under-cooked chicken and some irritated friends like.. well, this was probably not the best idea. Besides, the male energy is a nice change. Plus, we don't have to share a bathroom. This is key. Therefore, I proposed after Bitchy Landlady's call tomorrow, hoping she gives in, but if not, that we plan another course of action: finding a new place altogether for us to move into in August. He dug the idea. I told you I was good.

Cross your fingers July moves quickly or I will have nothing more to write about but the pain and anguish of moving forever. Dammit.. now where is that pen with which I can stab myself many, many times..?!

Changes

I hate moving.

Wait. Scratch that.

Hate is not a strong enough word to describe how I feel about moving. I get the same feeling about moving that I do when I have to do math or when someone suggests I garden - Ugh.. my stomach hurts..blech! Pure torture! There's just too much to do, too much clutter and packing and lifting and oh-look-at-this-I-forgot-I-even-had-this sort of discoveries while you clean and pack and then it takes me HOURS people cuz I have no clue what to part with and what to keep.

Aaaaaaaand..I had no idea I was this slovenly! I mean, ok, a little.. my room is hardly organized, but the rest of the house looks clean and happy. Looks can be deceiving tho once you start moving books around and wow, there's so much dust and...ah..ah..ah-choo! Geez! I mean will someone please tell me WHERE I got all these baking goods?! There's bags of sugar and flour, random dried herbs and half-full containers of spices and mini chocolate chips..ooh! I like those! Little gifts and trinkets from random acquaintances who felt obligated to bring some sort of tiny object as a nice gesture to whatever party I was having at the time and grabbed whatever they could quickly, not caring its sole purpose was to collect dust (Note to anyone inclined to buy me gifts: NO journals, NO plants, and NOTHING that collects dust by just oh, sitting there..unless you would like to be my permanent duster.. and in that case, great! But I can't pay you, ok?)..

I ask you, WHAT, in the name of sweet baby Jesus, do I DO with this crap?! I can't re-gift cuz really, trust me, I just wouldn't do that to my worst enemy. Craig's List and Ebay take everything, but I'm too lazy to ship it out if some desperate home-bound clutter-fiend finds within my junk something they couldn't live without for one more second amidst their crammed floor-to-ceiling-with-small-porcelain-clowns filled apartment. Then of course there's Good Will.. but kids, the poor and homeless have enough problems, don't you think? *Sigh*

So it's spring cleaning around the house these days - except for, um.. not. It's June... so whatever, I'm a season behind. I don't set trends people - like this is news or something.. sheesh.

But I'm feeling the tingle of change starting and it makes me happy and nervous - some dread at the ache and pain I will feel in the form of sore muscles on Sunday when, after all the moving I will have just completed, accompanied by much exertion of my girly, and therefore whiny and weak body, I'll have to get oh so friendly with the mop and sponge that comes with the deep cleaning of leaving any comfy little abode cuz unfortunately I have no minions to do my bidding. You'd think with a moniker like the one I've ingeniously given myself that, you know, it'd come with some bonuses like minions or a magic wand.. or at least a really good knife set.. but I didn't think that far ahead. So if you know of any good, unemployed minions, send them my way. Minions might be the wave of the future.. A girl can always use some good minioning.

Moving on, sans minions, I started tossing out old magazines - keeping the Real Simple ones of course cuz hellooo, Real Simple. There's a love you couldn't possibly understand that I have for this magazine.. no, you couldn't. And it's mine and it's sacred. So just be quiet. I bravely got rid of the acquired Lucky and Organic Style mags of which I have great admiration and wishes for being that lucky and yes, that organically styled.. but they are no Real Simple and for that, even tho it was hard and I debated whether or not to look thru them all one last time at oh, midnight last night, just for one little, tiny thing I might've needed, I resisted, closed my eyes, and off to the recycling bin they went. Ooh.. that was tough!

But I have to be honest, cleaning is so therapeutic for me. Starting fresh feels so hopeful. Getting rid of what isn't needed, what may have never been needed in the first place leaves room for surprises and suddenly, what you never knew you needed at all has appeared without you even uttering a simple, whispered-under-your-breath wish and you realize, hey, I really needed that. I can't believe I ever went without it. However, what follows is that nagging feeling of second-guessing myself.. did I throw something away I could've used later? Something I should've cherished a little more? Even if it didn't give me everything I needed - did it need to be discarded? It had a reason for being there, in my little life, I'm sure, even if it was cluttered with the rest of the mess of cd's bought for only one song, the cute candle-y lanterns I honestly have no room for, and my thoughts and fears and loves and dreams and high-strung personality. I'm not really a pack rat per se - I just don't often get rid of things that don't do anything more but take up space and when it's time, those pangs of 'what if's' hover over me relentlessly so I just put off making any decisions about them. Once I do, I'm never sure if I made the right one or not. With all that can be collected in life, how do you determine what is really valuable and worth keeping?

Life shifts. It's a really good thing. Change is necessary. I grow so much because of it, especially when the shifts are difficult.. whether it be changing residences or the shuffle of people who come and go within my life. I inevitably just get thru it - pack things up, move on, out with the old and in with the new - cuz I have no other choice. We wouldn't learn anything if it was easy.. but God, sometimes, I wish life came with some friendly cleaners who swooped in and helped pick up the pieces or at least did the mopping. I've made some really good strides in the last couple of years.. becoming a better, stronger, and smarter person. I know I don't have all the answers, I know I'm not perfect. I think I'm slightly OCD, I can be too emotional or get too attached, I certainly have way too much money invested in too many hair products, and I can be a bit of a control freak, but I'm still proud of myself and what I've accomplished in life. Obviously, there's still more work to be done - namely, contemplating further if pizza and beer are enough of a bribe to coerce my strong, male friends into helping me move the heavy furniture objects on Saturday or if I have to flash them to boot. Crossing my fingers the former will suffice.

Children

I don't think I'm going to have children. My mother is always hopeful and she's getting creative. Once she said to me, "These days, you don't need a man to have a child anymore." Don't you just love that? I love it when Mom tries to be hip. But Gram's comment was priceless. She said she was going to start working on the baby blanket cuz by the time I had a baby, she'd be dead. Sweet isn't she? She also used to tell me, before my 4 1/2 years of braces when I was a bucked-tooth kid, at least I could eat a corn cob thru a knot hole. Ahh.. family. There's nothing like it.

I mention this cuz I'm a very proud auntie. Ok, they're not really blood relatives (I actually fear the day my brother procreates), but they're close enough. They're children of two of my best friends from high school with whom I'm still very close. I LOVE these children. ADORE these wee humans. LAVISH (ok, not lavish.. lavish on my very budgeted single girl's income) gifts upon them just to see their little eyes twinkle with glee. I really should stop this tho, except for the usual birthday and holiday occasions, cuz Erin, Kari's 5-year-old, with a pair of the bluest eyes I've ever seen on a child, looked up at me with anticipation and innocence last weekend when I visited and then ran straight for my car asking if I had any presents for her and her sister, Lauren. Children learn quickly these days.

But they love me right back.. really they do. I'm very famous at their house - aka Auntie Angel. They run around the house and get all excited when they're told I'm coming over. This just makes my knees weak. Why? I don't know. You'd think, for me, it'd only happen with a kiss from 'The One' or at least a really charming Mr. Right Now.. but children are so smart and so tiny and SO FRIGGIN ENDEARING. Erin, hugging me goodbye at the end of one of our visits, said she loved me, as she always does. I asked her how much just teasing her and her reply was, "To the moon and back!" I swear my heart swelled to at least twice its size. I think I was beaming for the rest of the day. Children just have that unconditional loving ability that isn't yet marred or jaded with the fear and rejection we, as adults, have experienced in our growing up. They are still brand new to the world and so incredibly untouched by anything negative outside the home and family in which they're surrounded. They know I'm there to provide when I can, when the mom and dad units aren't available, not that I'm a sufficient substitute, cuz really, nothing compares to Mommy and Daddy for them.. but they understand I have a concrete presence in their lives and they just accept it - accept me - with all of my faults and issues and so-non-mom-ish-ness. It's a humbling feeling.

Last weekend Erin actually requested I come to her dance recital. Now, she's 5.. most of the other children were about 5 or younger. Could you just die? This group isn't hers, but these younger girls were so precious - yes, I said precious cuz really, there's no other word I could possibly use and you'll see what I mean. It's a tad blurry cuz as children do, they were watching their teacher in the wings, waving to their parents in the audience, basically not paying attention as you can clearly see here and ohmygod, aren't they friggin adorable?! And they had very TINY TAP SHOES on people! Ugh.. very little else is cuter! I think these recitals are more for pure entertainment than a show of excellence and improvement. The chuckles amongst the parents, tho proud, were enough to tell me that, but it's still a one-of-a-kind moment.

Now I can't rave about Kari's gorgeous girls without mentioning Megan's as well. She has two also, Stephanie and Rory. Another set of just really pretty children. See, this is what I'm worried about - not that my children would be ugly, but that I couldn't guarantee they'd be this cute - or this well behaved cuz these kids really are good and so smart and so happy. I'm afraid I'd turn into the spawn of Satan as a mother.. when my friends really have it mastered. I feel it's just a much better (not to mention when they're 15, cooler) position to be in as the rockin' auntie they come to when in serious angst as 15-year-olds are wont to do.. when they are wonting, that is..

In the meantime, I live vicariously thru each of my friends and their cute little families. I get my fix at Kari's house at least once a month, sometimes more and I do look forward to it. I haven't seen Megan in oh, ages.. and Kari and Megan see each other even less. Stephanie is less than a year old so neither Kari nor I have met her smiley, little self yet..but we are planning a big reunion at my mom's house in rural Oregon sometime in July. Mom is the most central we can get from the coast where Megan lives and Seattle where Kari and I live. The bonus about this pending visit is that Mom and Gram will get their grandchildren fix as well - even if it's not thru me. Megan, Kari, and I have been friends since sophomore year, almost 20 years - there's no doubt they're family. So now I just have to convince Mom and Gram they already have plenty of grandkids to go around.

A day at the races

Rounding out the end of our weekend away in California, our last day was in Sonoma at the races. We got up VERY early on Sunday - ok, again I got up earlier than everyone cuz my hair has issues (This fact is well established and I don't need to continue to beat it like the dead horse it is.. thank you.). We still got up early and I felt much more rested thanks to the bro, SD, for giving me and AM the futon rather than the slowly flattening air mattress we had the previous night that left our drunk asses lying on the hard-as-hell, minimally-carpeted floor. We hit Starbucks on our way to out and tho it was early and chilly, we'd all become used to wearing multiple layers now so we didn't freeze in SD's travel-in-style-but-with-tornado-like-winds-in-your-face jeep. I hunkered down with my mocha in my hands and my scarf tied tightly 'round my head and imagined how I'd write about this trip on my blog because it was so loud during most of the drive we couldn't hold normal conversations. I sort of sang to myself like I did when I was a wee child - I was pure entertainment, I tell you.. at least in my imagination I was.. Plus, it was too damn early to talk anyway. Needed. Coffee. To. Digest.

We arrived earlier than our last visits to the Sonoma Wine Country Classic and had plenty of time to wander the grounds before the races started around 1pm. All I could think of was food.. all the other kids wanted to do was meander and look at the cars. Um.. hello.. we were at the races.. weren't the cars going to be there like ALL DAY? Ugh..

A few of our other friends arrived soon after and I think they wanted food too. I could see it on their faces and that hungry look in Ann-Marie's eyes, but their words came out completely different and they instead opted to walk the last two loops SD, SD's dad, AM and I just finished so they could see the cars too. Hmph. Why do people lie?

I did have the sun to distract me and it was getting warmer. I'd already changed out of my many layers I'd worn for the drive over so I could absorb as much as possible, and yet, it was still windy. Ok, we were out of the jeep.. and you know, walking.. and not in San Fran so hi, where was the wind coming from? Grrr..

Maybe you can take the tour with me. Here we have the row of Cobras which I love. Very sporty and I wouldn't mind my hair blowing all over if I was driving around in one of these babies. This green Lotus was a funky cool ride and this blue number actually had someone driving around in it, albeit with some really bad hair, but look at how he's actually using the hand brake on the right to stop. People, you know that would never work w/ me.. I'd wear that sucker out so fast..

Then, hallelujah! It was time to head up to the wine tent! Whoo hoo! What?! Don't be shocked.. It was noon. People start drinking at noon on Sunday - I know, I was raised Catholic. And ooh any priest with a drinking problem (and there are many) would've been so thrilled! There was wine galore! And little bits of olives and big hunks of cheese with crackers and ooh the SAUSAGES abounded! This is THE sausage you've been saving yourself for!! Um, I'm not kidding.. see the sign. I mean, it says that's what you've been doing, so uh.. trust me, when you taste it, you'll agree.. Mmmmmm.. And there was goat's milk ice cream and chocolate truffles and I really didn't even barely, well, just one sample, only paid attention cuz we, I mean I, saying I was coming back for 'others', went back for seconds and thirds on the fucking sausage. I'm telling you.. goooooood. In fact I could probably live on Picante's cafe de olla and Saag's sausage..I would even consider moving to California just for those reasons alone. Screw the earthquakes.. they've got sausage!

We ate and drank, drank and ate. SD and Ann-Marie are my documented examples and then, as if slyly trying to get a closer look at SD's share, Ann-Marie leaned in while SD steadied his distance - and, even tho only seconds after my first example, they seem decidedly more drunk here. In their defense (and my own, of which there are no pictures, strategically) there was really no such thing in this wine tasting tent as a tasting. And by that I mean, 1/3 of a glass is so not a taste. Not that I'm complaining about the generosity shown by the lovely and only-getting-lovlier-by-the-glass people in the wine tent, just that this is another reason why I needed more sausage after only having a measly Starbucks scone and mocha at the crack of dawn. Miss D = lightweight, especially on Sunday mornings when I'm usually much more pious and well.. not drunk.

We staggered over to the seats perched right above the first 'S' corner of Sear's Point raceway once the races actually began. This is where the cars come up, just after the starting line and veer a sharp right turn in the last tail of the curve that sometimes leads to spin outs and thus massive ooh's and ahh's by the crowd when the driver skillfully doesn't smash himself to bits. Everyone claps. It's very classy and no one spills their wine while doing so. You should see it. It's impressive. You can see our very exciting and perfect view where we were for the majority of the rest of the afternoon - well, when we were actually there and not back at the wine tent getting more 'tastes'. I think AM ventured back more than anyone. I assume he may have even gotten himself lost a couple of times, wandering around in his tipsy state with his phone glued to his ear as befitted him that weekend, his 'P is for Porn' t-shirt he wore every day and his very gay rockstar sunglasses I helped him pick out. Oh don't get me started.. you should've seen the ones he wanted to buy.. Even for a stark-raving metrosexual, his first pick crossed a line.. I saved him some serious mockery tho he refuses to acknowledge it.

After the races, we headed back to Oakland, to SD's little garage in the ghetto, all bundled up in the jeep, satisfied and sun-kissed - a little more than I wanted, but not nearly as badly burned as I was last year. I wish I had pictures of that. I looked like a Thanksgiving Day turkey just two days after we returned - dark brown, peeling and crispy on the outside and, right underneath, all tender and baby pink on the inside. Ouch! See, I don't burn.. almost never, but I underestimated the power of global warming and that oh, the sun in Seattle is vastly different than the sun in California.. it's like we're on completely different planets. And I might've neglected to use ANY sunscreen. In retrospect, yeah, that was pretty stupid and probably one of the most painful things I think I've ever done to myself. But hey, the tan that evolved has never left.. seriously, still there.

We said our goodbyes to SD and watched him drive off as we dragged our bags and wine boxes, safeguarded by me like a newly-acquired treasure chest, into the airport to check in. I've already mentioned the rest of the evening turned into the perfect illustration of why AM and I don't date anymore as frustrations quickly built up with each other during walks thru security, lines at the Southwest gate, and just simply getting off the plane in a timely manner.. *sigh* but I'm still very happy we took the trip. Mainly cuz I have lots of fodder by which to taunt him relentlessly and the pictures to prove it.. and oh yeah, vacations ROCK!

Reach out and touch someone

My friend, AM, says he's not a phone guy. These are his words exactly. He's said them many times in response to my complaints about when we talk on the phone that he a) sounds distracted, b) monotone, and c) will only use one word sentences like 'yeah', 'huh', and 'ok'. The other factor is that he's ALWAYS on the phone and when I see this while in his actual presence, he's not only using more than one word for sentence creation, he's animated and jovial as well and you know, sort of initiating conversation points.. It amazes me, this ability to just deny he's even capable of doing these things with a straight face..but he can be very convincing so once in a while I believe him. Not anymore..

Let me first explain the history of my California tripping that I've been writing about lately. A few years ago, I needed a gigantic boost of happy, some time away, a VACATION.. Yes, I know.. what a concept.. I just don't take them often tho. And the faux bro, SD, suggested I come down for a visit to see him in Oakland and heighten my mood with a little southern light therapy. I really needed to run away at the time, but SD wanted to combine this visit with a little trip to the races in Sonoma, something he was very interested in. Now, I have no interest in cars - old ones, expensive ones or otherwise - not really, but SD was building a GT40 in his little garage in the ghetto and since he's been such a good friend over the years, I thought I should see what this race car thing was all about..

Our plan, besides touring San Fran a little, was to hit Sonoma for their annual Wine Country Classic at Sear's Point raceway. I had such a blast on that trip that we'd decided to do this every year since. Last year, we changed it up a bit and invited AM, the ex-boyfriend I met SD thru, because he loves cars just as much as SD does. They've known each other since high school, but since SD left Seattle, they don't see each other unless SD and his dad are stopping by on the way to or back from Whistler. I also thought it would be cool to do the trip with AM as we don't get a lot of friend time either - even tho he is only like 3 miles away. Don't ask, I've tried and tried.. it's hard to be him and be so popular.. I'm sure (you can almost hear my eyes rolling.. can't you?).

Last year's trip was.. well, let's just say, sucky. Scott and I had a great time, but AM misunderstood the whole point of me asking him on the trip, which was for us to have some quality time together, and thus he invited his then girlfriend. Now, the gf was beautiful and sweet, but she had the self-esteem of trembling willow. It was so bad it prevented her from really and truly comprehending what you were saying to her since she ran it thru some quirky (and if by quirky you think I mean completely whacked, you are very insightful..) internal translation device in her psyche that drastically changed any harmless comment you made about the weather into some devastatingly insult-like information about her fragile relationship with AM. Seriously. You could tell her you loved her shoes and she'd run to AM and tell him you just said AM thought she was fat. I wish I was exaggerating.

I'll give you an example. We all met at a friend's vocal group performance in the city once. Before it even started, AM had some allergic reaction to the food there and had to leave early without the gf - but she was obviously still feeling neglected after and wanted my advice on whether she should go out with another guy friend of hers in an obvious attempt to try to make him jealous, but saying she no longer wanted to wait for him that evening. I told her yes, she should go out and have fun. What would be the big deal? That's simply all I said. I was told later, she ended up calling him, in tears I believe, and accused him of not loving her because, as she understood it, I'd told her from what I knew they weren't even together. Now, I knew they were on and off, but I didn't actually know they'd just labeled themselves and were exclusive.. however, this STILL had NOTHING to do with what transpired in ACTUAL WORDS between her and me. And you can imagine the strain of this which started to show in my existing relationship with AM, someone whom I used to date and with whom I've worked very hard to maintain a solid friendship. I had no choice but to distance myself from any acquaintance of his significant other, also known to me as 'that psycho bitch' and told him as much. I think he sympathized, but we both wanted him to be happy so he was going to keep at it - certainly I wished him as much luck as possible (cuz he seemed to need it).. BUT this is what I was faced with knowing she would be coming with him and my weekend would be colored with the stress of watching what I said ALL the time and trying to restrain myself from throttling the life out of her.. *sigh*

LUCKILY FOR HER.. I didn't have to. She made the choice at the last minute not to join us. AM, of course, was pissed at me for making it difficult on both of them, while I, of course, was pissed at him for being pissed at me since he was dating someone CRAZY anyway AND invited her without talking to me first. So the weekend was very tense, to say the least. We barely talked during, before, or after mostly cuz he spent the EN-TIRE weekend talking to her on his cell phone which drove us all mad, and they broke up eventually anyway cuz even if she was extremely hot, I think the pscyho bits finally got to him. This is my theory.. I really have no idea.. mostly, cuz I was thrilled and distracted by the never-having-to-worry-about-dealing-with-her-anymore part... Oops..did I say that outloud?

THIS year, it was stated, VERY CLEARLY and RIGHT AWAY that there would be no accompaniment by anyone AM was dating, leading on, or simply, sleeping with in any way.

He did, however, still bring his fucking cell phone.

I would like now to turn your attention to the state's evidence against AM and his many historical statements of just not being 'a phone guy'. Even with only the two pictures here, you can see, clearly - with the phone resting comfortably against his right ear, the sunglasses on for mastery in avoiding icy come-hither glares sent his way during dinners and wine tastings to let him know he should end his conversation sooner, rather than later, with Mr.- or Ms.-much-more-important-than-his-friends-he-was-with, and the distance away from the camera showing he was not actually with us while talking cuz that would, you know, be rude - that this is an obvious pattern of behavior. Just examine, if you will, example 1 and example 2 and you tell me if he doesn't seem like oh, the complete opposite of 'not a phone guy'... I think you'll see what I'm saying..

Unfortunately, this isn't something I can control or correct about AM. I can mention it to him, choose to ignore it, and hell, I can WRITE about it, which gives me a very devylish tickle inside cuz he does deserve to get shit for this, but ultimately, this is something that he told me point blank will not change, especially if it's business related. Of course anyone who knows me knows I'm no good at ignoring such things well and it drives me all kinds of insane that he continues to do this. He doesn't seem to understand that in two little days people who aren't 'business related' and think they MUST talk to him RIGHT THIS INSTANT are probably not having any sort of life crisis and, more importantly, will survive if left to their own communicative devices til he returns. Yet, he STILL ANSWERS THE PHONE! Um.. will someone tell me why MY calls go to voicemail?! On second thought, please don't.. I know already..

What I absolutley loved tho is while the plane was actually in the air each time, AM was forced to turn the phone off. I actually had a lengthy and guaranteed amount of time he didn't have the phone to his ear. Thank God for the small miracles of flight regulations! So we had a few nice moments together especially since he brought his dvd player and movies to go with so we could at least pass the time entertained. I mean, there are people you just can't travel with and he's not one of these people. He's very low maintenance actually despite having to put up with all his phone distractions. I can't say we didn't fight at the end - as we always seem to do at the end of these types of journeys, be it this year's weekend trip to California or .. well.. uh.. last year's weekend trip to California, but we have a lot of history together and some minor resentments that never go away.. Still we get over it and move on. Doesn't mean I don't want to throw that goddamn phone in the nearest fucking river and maybe smack some SENSE into him.. (he'd hit me back tho, much harder and honestly, I bruise rather easily), but at least I finally got him to admit that yes, he definitely is a phone guy. And that's all I needed to hear.

Wine not approved by God

Have you ever seen those books entitled Conversations with God? They come in parts I, II, & III and are written by a man I'm sure is very nice and thinks God, or some sort of force he calls God, has spoken to him and chosen him as one of his marketing people. I actually have a couple of these books and I like the idea - I've got a faith, but I don't go to church. God knows where I am and He's ok with that. Recovering Catholic, people.. 12-step program. I'm not saying this guy is crazy or anything.. but I'm not preaching either.. My whole point, which I'm sure you're waiting for me to get to - sigh - is, in one of these books, God, for lack of a better term that's what I'll call Him, tells the author - and I'm so summarizing here cuz I haven't picked up the book in ages since I think I've given up on the possibility of sainthood and plan on burning away happily in Hell, that he didn't make the human body able to consume alcohol. Don't blame me - it says so in the book so it must be true - according to this god who's talking to the author anyway. I don't recall that God says specifically if alcohol is bad or a sin or what.. I think He just says he didn't create the human body for the purpose to consume such things.

Well.. THAT sucks.

My argument against such an idea would be if God didn't agree with the consumption of alcohol, why give us free will to come up with such a great idea to make it in the first place? OR, better yet..He could've prevented the whole grapes and hops stuff from even existing. I mean, He is God.. right? And if there was no wine, there'd be no 'cup of the blood of Christ' to sip from at any Catholic church service on Sundays.. and if you weren't raised Catholic, you have no appreciation for this tiny little bit of fun hypocrisy the under-21 set get to have IN CHURCH. I know it's only a sip of wine..but when your 10 it's very cool.

So can you imagine if there was no wine?? Well, there'd be no bit of fun for the 10-year-olds near the end of church to look forward to.. AND since it's supposed to be symbolic for the blood of Christ, I mean, who knows.. they'd probably have you drink actual blood or something literal like that. I'm doubting there are many fans of that idea and all the other religions would see an influx in their memberships I'm sure as the masses (no pun intended) ran screaming from Catholicism and the new pope and his peeps would have some serious damage control on their hands...

What I'm saying is sure, this guy could've talked to God and all he wrote in his book could be true.. I just lean to 'not so much' on the just-say-no-to-wine part.. And amen to that! Because Lord - if it's wrong, I don't want to be right..

We started out early on Saturday morning in Oakland - ok, rephrase - I started out early cuz my morning regimen takes a fucking long time. I know people.. it's ridiculous.. I KNOW..but it can't be helped. So after all the men finished their whole 10 minutes in and out, we were off to my favorite little spot for breakfast called Picante where they have THE BEST COFFEE EVER. Seriously. It's called cafe de olla and it tastes like Christmas with all its cinnamon, brown sugar, and clove-y goodness.. I could bathe in it... it's like an ORGASM in a cup.. not kidding..

Ok ok, enough with the coffee..

We sped off in the jeep and had a little less miserable ride because it was starting to warm up and we were well out of the city limits of foggy and cold San Fran. Plus, I took a little 'olla' to go.. mmmm..Thank you Jesus for that!

Driving.. driving.. driving.. toll bridge.. God I'm bored.. and I'm deaf.. driving.. and we're there.. sorta. We pass the race track we'd be heading to the next day and continue past that to find the first winery we would hit. We, of course, didn't have any clue which one.. just sorta drove til the mood struck us. I gotta say, I was mostly struck by how beautful the area was.. herons flying around, lush hills due to the late rains recently and wow, did it ever smell good out there. You can see the view from the first winery of which I can't remember the name here. I mean.. can't you just smell the green and the flowers and the clean? Ugh.. LOVE it! And the first tastings started with champagnes and I thought once I win the lottery, I'm just going to spend the rest of my life doing this.. that and going to Picante for coffee.. I mean seriously, it's SO good!

At some point early in the drive, we see this. This is a real tree people. Covered in... yeah, no clue what. Whatever it is is greenish-blue and ball-like. We couldn't get close enough to see exactly and there was only one tree like it. Isn't it freaky cool tho? We called it the Dr. Seuss tree cuz, well, I'm sure you can see why. And we had no idea what this signified at all.. we just thought it was cool, hence the stopping on the side of the road and the taking of pictures.

Then SD couldn't stop.. he just kept driving and driving.. I think he really wanted to find somewhere good, God love him.. but I mean, as most wineries closed by 5 or 5:30, we needed to get crackin' cuz by then it was close to 2. So I tell him the next winery no matter what is where we're stopping and he agreed. Gotta love the power of the sisterly threats..

The very next one was St. Francis (Again - if the saints were drinking wine, do you really think God didn't want us to have it? I'm very confused..). See SD and Dad headed into the winery here. And oh yeah, St. Francis himself here (See? He drank and the animals STILL loved him!). The place was so beautiful. The wines..well, the words being thrown around to describe them were 'astringent' and 'acidic' and 'sucks', which is a technical term if you haven't done much wine tasting, but wow did the girl helping us have whiter-than-white teeth. I noticed that much. I'm betting they all get a whitening discount or something.. I should've asked. Damn.

After that, we started picking places by name. SD decided Blackstone Winery was the next one and of all the places we hit, even the group tasting at the races the next day, this was everyone's favorite. AND the tasting was FREE, well, except for the reserves we had - which were fucking amazing. I mean, yum! So we bought an obscene amount of wine for an obscene amount of money and really, that was ok with us. I think it was especially ok for the guy doing the tasting - Mr. Butt-Rock Guy of Sonoma. He was very cool.. but so Metallica-rocks kind of guy it was just funny to us. But hell, we were drunk so who knew what was really funny by then.

*Note for everyone ready to comment on the drinking AND driving - uh.. we WEREN'T doing that. SD was designated and was very careful not to taste too much. Ok? So don't even start!*

I have to say now, AM and I were not doing well. I'm such a lightweight and AM has the tolerance of a 12-year-old girl anyway, but in his defense, we hadn't eaten since 11am. I had to convince SD to stop at the market or else AM, since he was sitting behind me, would be graced with a not so friendly regurgitated cafe de olla and the rest of my breakfast.. We grabbed some chevre and some tasty water crackers and proceeded to our next stop, munching away.

Chateau St. Jean, another place named after a SAINT people.. was the most picturesque place outside of Italy - and I'm just guessing cuz I've only seen Italy in the movies cuz I'm a dolt and have no money ok.. cut me some slack. I know beautiful tho and this and this are..ugh.. beau-tee. Right? Right.. so shut up. I know what I'm talking about. The wines? Oh yeah.. eh.. pffft.

Lots of time has passed now and most places are closing. So we hit one last one on the way out called Stone Creek Winery. Unfortunately, it doesn't really exist anymore. They sold it to some bigger winery and I don't remember the name cuz I was too busy tasting the other wines and loving, LOVING the champagne! Only small amounts of this Stone Creek champagne are left we were told so we all had to get some. It was lovely, especially at $18 a bottle. I also discovered a very sexy chocolate merlot sauce I couldn't fucking resist. Mmm.. made me think dirty..

By the time we got home, I really was dirty and oh, FREEZING. More thoughts of jumping into canyons of fire and that sort of thing during the drive in the jeep and planning Survivor-like alliances with AM for next year when we fucking RENT A CAR! Or just get so blitzed-out-of-our-minds drunk we pass out and don't notice.

Other than that, the wine tasting was really fun and a huge success! We didn't drive drunk, we didn't make fools of ourselves - ok AM did when he brought the cheese and crackers INTO Chateau St. Jean and was eating right out of the brown bag - and ok, I had some too - so even if God didn't really approve maybe St. Francis will put a good word in for me..

Not in Kansas anymore, Toto

I'll start right off and tell you that I can't possibly encompass this whole California trip into one little blog.. You just wouldn't make it.. there's too much. You'd need a snack about 1/2 way thru and then on your way to the kitchen, you'd see Tom Cruise on tv AGAIN saying how HAPPY he is.. cuz you didn't get it the other 73,000 times before.. and isn't that LOVELY??!

So let's just save you ALL of that, shall we, and I'll ease you in and work my way thru the rest of it this week..

If you'd like to distract yourself now and give yourself a little preview, so to speak, oh, alright.. go ahead.. twist my arm.

This was my first real vacation in ages and you know how you get all excited for your trip cuz you think it'll be the best thing ever and then some lame drama happens or you lose your favorite sun glasses or ruin your best butt jeans..? Well, nothing crappy happened.. this actually was an amazing trip - practically perfect.. well, we were all completely plastered and woozy from the excessive tasting, drinking, and guzzling of wine for 3 days straight.. and the sun was everywhere... just out for the world to see.. not a cloud in the sky anywhere at all ev-er.. This part of the world definitely has an 'in' with God..or at least some good black mail. You just knew it. Ugh.. it was beautiful, people..

The first night the faux bro took all of us to meet up with a bunch of friends and significant others for dinner at this great place in the SoMa district called Tamal. In my little life experience with large parties I've never been able to order 1 of everything. I mean, you say it as a joke.. but you can imagine my sheer child-like joy when we not only ordered 1 of everything, but 1 plus 1 more!! Wow.. yum is the only right word. The food rocked except for a few things, and dessert more than made up for any bits of dinner that were so-so.. and what with the many pitchers of sangria, who really cared.. until the bill came. I about fell over when I saw that it was somewhere in the mid-$600's. Apparently, when in San Fran, I turn into some penny-pinching little old Jewish lady.. seriously, you'd hardly recognize me. I had to shut her up a few times when I felt the oy's coming on.. but in San Fran things are a little pricier - the standard of living is higher tho too - but still, I'm guessing even entry to Trader Joe's requires a platinum card minimum..

So at the end of the night, we're poured into the faux bro, SD's, jeep. This is the first of what are to be many of the coldest and most miserable passenger experiences of our lives. SD has taken off the top and the doors - he says flatly, ‟It's summer." I say just as flatly with a tinge of matter-of-fact, ‟If by ‛summer' you mean cold as all hell cuz this IS San Francisco, then yeah, I can see your point."

*SD then does something surprising to all of us and puts the doors back on and some tarp-y looking thing on the top to assist in some sort of wind protection and warmth.. and really, it doesn't achieve either* Ok ok, it helped me a little and I was happy I had some sort of visiting-sister-ly-pull, AND I was lucky enough to be the girl, which honestly, is really really great sometimes cuz I never had to sit in the back, which I heard sucked exponentially.

Let me also say, San Francisco isn't like the rest of California. It's like um.. Seattle.. in California. With fog. And bay windows. That's really all that's different. I think God put it in the wrong state, if you want my opinion.. And driving in that sort of climate in an open jeep from the city to the east bay is just a little on the suicidal.. You may think you're sane when you get in and put on the roller-coaster-like safety harness (really not kidding about that) that this is just a quick ride and you'll be fine.. (but you're forgetting that anywhere you drive in California is 30 minutes at least.. which is anything but quick), but by the time you get out, you're calling the people with the fashionable fasten-in-the-back white jackets to come take you away yourself! I would've paid to leap into a canyon of FIRE that's how cold I was.. I wanted to sell my soul to the devil TWICE in case we had to take another drive. And we DID.. ooooooooh yes we did! So by the time I have a man in my life who might want children with me, I imagine, maybe by then, the ovaries might be defrosted enough. But barely.

And then I had a conversation with my hair. Or rather, it had a conversation with me.. It's very high maintenance.. and um, no fan of wind. While literally lashing out at me, it was saying, ‛Hellooo..bi-otch.. *slap* uh yeah.. you there..*slap slap* Can you stop this incessant wind crap? There's to be no subjection to astronomical wind speeds.. *sllllllllap* Only the slow-motion beauty of a Vidal Sasoon commercial! Do you hear me?! I mean, sister.. this will cause TANGLES.. and RATS.. and you know what those lead to.. SPLIT ENDS! So fucking stop the INSANITY!'.. and at this point, I stopped listening. It was losing it.. the hair.. had gone mad.. there was no saving it really (AM, the ex, was apparently having the same conversation with the collar of his thin leather jacket he brought.. tough break. It kept slapping him around like a surly French waiter. I think I had it easy comparitively.). But by the next day, I'd finally gotten wise and dug out the scarf I'd luckily brought with me. I couldn't really achieve the hot, 1950's Hollywood starlet look.. it was more like the young-white-Aunt-Jemima-wanna-be-rap-star sort of look, which doesn't really work much for me. Happily, there are no pictures of this.

After arriving at SD's home, what he affectionately refers to as ‛the hood pad', which is in the neighborhood I affectionately, and more to the point, accurately refer to as 'the ghetto' in Oakland, we're all ready for sleep. Mostly. AM has discovered SD's Lego Star Wars video game and can't stop playing it.. and you haven't seen anything til you've seen an animated Lego version of Chewbacca.. so friggin cute! Where do they come up with this shit?!

But the air mattress was filled, SD's dad settled on the futon, SD was in the mini loft where sugar ants were trying to discover uncharted territories that boggled all of us.. and we all fell asleep...til the middle of the night.. like an hour later.. when my ass was on the floor. Hmm.. that's.. interesting. The mattress had a silent and tiny leak. Twice SD dutifully filled it back up after we discovered the thin carpet over the cement floor is amazingly uncomfortable.. yeah, surprised us too. The third time, I think he said ‟screw them" or snored it maybe and I was so damn tired I didn't really notice - ok, that's a lie.. there was some serious stabby pain in my back, but I tried to drown it out with fantasies of floaty clouds made of cushy cotton........ yeah, didn't work for me. Pfffffft.. I got up anyway since I needed a good 60-90 minutes more than the guys did.. ok 90 minutes... at minimum.. It's the hair people! God..

Tune in next chapter when Miss Devylish and her trusty sidekicks attack Sonoma and its many wineries by storm.. or rather, drink to oblivion and then drive home.

One carry-on please

I have to move. Ugh.

I hate moving. Where's that ballpoint pen I should use to stab myself in the eye... cuz that's less painful than moving. You think going thru craig's list and the paper and checking out new digs will be fun.. and it is, for like a minute. Then you realize how much you have to drive around to places where they're asking WHAT for HOW MUCH and YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.. and you roll your eyes as you walk out, after trying nicely to say thank you to someone who obviously only wants to rip off their tenants and Jesus-on-a-tricycle, this is a pain in the ass!

I found a very cute place tonight - on the hill - not the yuppie family oriented hill, the 2-hour-disheveled-looking-almost-heroin-addicted-wanna-be's hill.. you people who live here know exactly where I'm talking about..but goddamn, the right place can have a killer view of the city. And that's what I found.

It's a condo this lovely woman owns, all hers.. like, just redecorated so um.. she wants me to keep everything I own, or close to it.. in what would be my room. Let me just say currently, I'm in a house.. a run-down sort of thing, but a house nonetheles with rooms.. like, MULTIPLE.. and I have stuff people.. real stuff that takes up space and which you can SIT on..THAT kind of stuff.. and it's not bad. Mostly. And this room I'm looking at... it's just tiny. I think my freshman dorm was bigger and that was a Kleenex box of a thing. It's not unbearably small.. but it is small. Ghandi would be fine. I, however, which I'm sure you've noticed, am not Ghandi. Or anything close. Like, at all.

Other than that, I love this place. She's ripping up the carpet and putting in hardwoods, she's repainting, re-doing the kitchen.. great! So what if I can't put anything of mine out.. that's cool. Most could be garage-saled or stored.. So what if there's nothing but street parking.. ugh.. oy.. but.. ooooook.. ok.. I can get used to that.. but the issue really comes down to Miss Emma kitty wouldn't be able to romp in the grass and neighbor's yard anymore making eyes with all the boys.. and she'd only have the deck to daydream from... People, there's a deck - looking out to this beautiful 180 degree view of Seattle that I dream of.. DREAM I tell you.. God I want it.. but then my little kitty, who only wants love and affection and food and little tuna treats every morning, would be stuck with a litter pan and major freaking out when I let her out front. Too many cars and too much sidewalk and not enough grass to eat and puke back up.. and someone else hinted she could actually just get picked up and stolen. STOLEN??? God, do I have to worry about that too? Are there crazed kitty kidnappers out there? Is there some kind of kitty security system I can get? Are there breeds that are more stolen than others, like Hondas are? These are things I never thought about.. and don't want to think about. She's my baby.. cuz sorry to break it to you Mom, tho the rest of the world will be greatly relieved, you'll probably never get any grandchildren from me.. not ‛real' ones anyway.. For now, it's just the cat and we, meaning, she, the cat, Emma, and I are very happy with that sitch.

So more thinking. I have to think about it. It's the first place I've seen, but I really liked the woman.. and the space, minus the lack OF space..but that's just in the room I'd be in and I wouldn't be in there ALL the time, right? Ok, thinking.. Must think of Emma, must think of the children! Must see some more places when I get back and get a grip. God I'm already tired and bored of THAT idea.. (the seeing of places, not the getting of grip..) Blech.

Oh yeah, I'm leaving for San Fran in the morning kids. Whoo hoo! Going to see the faux bro, SD, who I met thru a long-ago ex. The ex, AM, and I have been friends since our break-up forever and ever ago and we're actually traveling together this time. SD is like a brother, but not actually related, hence the faux.. he's much smarter than my real brother - not that my real brother is a dolt, but.. well, he's eccentric and sometimes he has a British accent.. and a kilt.. and he's never been to England.. or anything close.. Oooo, he's a long story for another time.

But SD is always looking out for me. He's rad. With a capital R. He and the ex, AM, are into cars.. so this big event we're seeing Sunday is about watching some really old ones race around a track while the part I like the best is the tasting of many, many wines and champagnes from around Sonoma and eating yummy, greasy California-white-trash-who-attend-racing-and-wine-combo-events-in-Sonoma food.. yay!

Did I mention the SUN? Oooooooh yes.. that missing bright yellow object from the Seattle sky will be more than present in Cali and in the high 70's-low 80's.. I'll be there just long enough to remind those freckles from last weekend they have come out to stay.. and they'll not be allowed to go back into hiding. Is anyone jealous? No? Well, you probably HAVE sun where YOU are. On a regular basis. Don't rub it in. Seattlites need all the light therapy they can get - away from here sometimes even.. but I'll be back, Sunday night.. tho you'll have missed me, and I you, I'll have pictures and stories and treats for everyone, I promise.

You kids be good while I'm gone. Ciao!

Sex, Seattle, and a Single Girl

Nope.. this isn't some hot, little three-way..I mean, unless I was getting some.. and I'm not.. really.. This city is practically barren for being like a mini-San Fran. I don't get it. There are men, don't get me wrong.. nice ones, cute ones, witty ones.. and if by nice, cute and witty you think I mean gay, wow.. you're quite perceptive! Johnny give the reader a prize! No, ok, I don't mean they're all gay.. just sometimes. Like.. a lot of sometimes.. *sigh*

So what's a girl to do in this city? Like everyone else and their dog - no seriously, their dog - ok.. if not their dog, their children - I am a member of quite the plethora of dating websites. Of the ones that are out there, I think I'm on LavaLife (what the hell is up with that name anyway?), Hot or Not (Let's be honest, it's not so much a dating site as a last ditch effort hope for the 'what ifs' and the 'oh, why nots' stragglers that might be out there and really.. it's way more NOT than HOT.), the weekly alternative paper, The Stranger's ode to single-dom life partner searching, LoveLab, then I think there's Fast Cupid (I should warn you, he ain't that fast people..), and if you really want to dig, maybe My Space even tho the beardless youth that hit me up on that site are only dragging themselves away from video games of zombies and unrealistic karate moves long enough to greet me with an oh-so-sexy, ‛Hey, wassup hottie? LOL' and I'm left to figure out what it is that's so funny.. and enough to shout it in caps even... other than the fact the first digit in front of their ages is usually a 1.. Delete.



It's just so friggin sad.. sad like seeing-Morgan-Fairchild-naked-in-The-Graduate-stage-production-with-your-parents-and-you-need-lots-of-drinks sad.. (and if you haven't checked out her link yet, Miss Doxie is the best - this blog right here, is the funniest thing I've read since.. oh..birth.) The choices a single girl has here would seemingly be abundant.. I mean, you might think.. with all the options out there of being straight or gay and/or bi-sexual and/or transexual and ALL.. I would have some choi-ces people.. Yup. Ok.. YUP I said.. door should be knockin' any minute.. yes indeedy.. or be knocked down maybe.. um.. I'll go see if it's unlocked... um.. yup... *crickets*

Oy.

I'm not saying I don't date. I do.. I get my share of attention here and there, but nothing wildly insane that does the clichéd sort of sweeping off of my Franco Sarto booted feet. Oh.. like y'all don't want that too.. puh-lease.. There wouldn't be so many leeeeeeerrrrrve sites out there for idiot moi to join if the rest of the terrorist-and-Bush-administration-fearing people weren't out there net surfing for the same damn thing..in addition to whatever is new on ebay. If you can't run into it on the street or in a bar, you MUST be able to find it online!

Like, for example, this lovely and probably very intriguing man who's hitting me up from AUSTRALIA..who, incidentally, is probably reading this right now. And I was like.. dude, really.. um.. like there's a chance.. helloooo.. I mean, I know I'm cute and all, but c'mon.. Still, he persisted, pulling out all the offensive and coy stops in hopes to charm little ‛ol me right outta my virtual PANTS.. and tho it's a thought.. and he'll actually be here at the end of next month for a week on business.. hmm.. I'm not making any promises either way, T.. but we'll see.. You may have an accent, but it's not Canadian..

Did I mention Canadians LOVE me?! I'm not sure what it is.. and I love them right back.. oooooooh yes I do, for the love of everything that's good and right with the maple leaf baby.. They're CUTE! They're like Americans, except um, NOT.. and they have the cutest little lilt in their voices that makes them say things like ‛sowr-ry' for ‛sorry' and ‛to-moh-row' for ..well, you know what for.. and their inflections are a little different and it's freakin' adorable so like 10 minutes of that and I'm horizontal. Well, most often I'm also in BC as well so the whoring of myself doesn't really count being in another country and whatnot. Once you cross the border, it all cancels itself out. What, I hear you saying to yourself..? You've not heard of this phenomenon?? Oh Girlfriend (or Boyfriend, whichever applies here), you are missing out! Really, it's something for Ripley's, but it's quite true.. You should try it. Born-again virgin once you re-enter the states. It's like confession, but with a border patrol and drug-sniffing dogs.. and since it's only about a 2-hour drive back up, you can make this your own little foreign church of love and forgiveness every week if you wanted. Yahoo!!

But I don't. I live here. I visit BC and wish the Cute Canuck Boy Gate would be opened and they could visit here more often, but I think the border patrol can't understand them and are too busy getting them to say 'aboot' cuz it's so funny and they've watched South Park too many times.. so they send them packing back to whence they came. Or from whence they came. They get confused by the whences either way. And the dual-citizenship children we were meant to have or at least seriously think about while we bought birth control together, with English and French on the box, are certainly never thought of again.. at least not til the next debaucherous trip north.

But trust me, children aren't what I'm thinking about.. mmm-hmmmm..

Sunny things

It's been a sufficient amount of time that's passed since I last wrote.. and nothing, truly, nothing substantial has happened to me. *Sigh* I know.. I can hardly believe it myself.. I've a feeling the only reason that's the case is because this is a holiday weekend and even drama needs a vacation. However, for some reason, the cold that's been lingering like a bad house guest didn't quite catch on to the notion of the beauty that is a 3 day weekend and decided to stick around and continue to plague me. I feel like the parts of me that are supposed to be made up mostly of water must have been replaced by snot. I've gone thru the evolution of tender sore throat to scratchy sore throat to total head cold symptoms of sniffling, sneezing, and headachy-ness, and now it seems the head cold symptoms have all been reunited with scratchy sore throat - like one of them was just out on a beer run or something, but hey, now they're all here! Party!

The good news is the downward spiral of being uncomfortably ill is not so fatal that I couldn't at least enjoy what turned out to be incredible weather on Friday and Saturday. We hit 90 on Thursday people.. and seriously, Seattle was stunned. People stood frozen in absolute shock that it could get this warm this early in the year here.. IT DOESN'T HAPPEN. It's widely known and just accepted that there are only two seasons here: Winter and August. And summer doesn't start til the day after the 4th of July - I'm not kidding.. would I kid about something like this?! For the 9 years I've lived here, that's truly the way it's happened. June isn't even considered part of summer. It's gloom and doom for the ETERNITY of winter that rolls into what the rest of the world calls spring and still feels pretty damn cold here thru June.. then BAM! It's 5th of July and God, Himself, is smiling on us in the likeness of 80 degrees and a slight, cool breeze.. Maybe it's the 4th's celebration of fireworks and explosions that actually scare Mother Nature - she knows we mean business as we've been denied the warmer weather already for so long we've become rabid for it. Not wanting to risk a nasty bite for which she'd have to seek medical treatment and a tetanus shot, she succumbs to our growling threats and lets the sun shine down.. This year, she didn't have to be coaxed it would seem - maybe that new neighbor, Global Warming, spiked her Ovaltine...

So when the heat continued thru Friday and Saturday, you could tell people, tho still in shock, were starting to get comfortable with this turn of events. My friend Pixie and I, on a mission to cheer her up from the recent break up of the night before between her and her live-in beau, found ourselves bikini-clad in a lovely spot on Greenlake, oiled up like female mud wrestlers and eating cherries. Ahh.. the life! Even my freckles didn't know what to do with themselves. Many came out of their obscure hiding places to rejoice. I, of course, welcomed them with much fanfare. They're cute.

In this literally sunny state of bliss I was now in, I decided, out of the blue, to reward myself with something new. So I cashed in my contracted time with my cell phone provider and voilà, I got myself a fancy new cell phone! Now, I know what you're all thinking.. why get a new one when I already had the old one..but honestly, it was cruel to keep the other alive. Really, I put it out of its misery and it didn't suffer at all. You can't hold on to the past and blah blah blah.. besides that.. ooh look at all the gadgets, the color screen, the camera, and downloadable ring tones that abound!! The old phone is quickly forgotten and buried in the old cell phone cemetery in my mind.. but really, the other made me sound like I was under water and quite loud - and really, an obnoxiously hyper girl who already yells every possibly thing she can rejoice about doesn't need to be any louder than she already is - and if she's got something to rejoice about, she certainly wants to be heard.. clearly. Causing her friends to go deaf and be unable to hear her altogether is just so NOT the goal..

I know I'm late in the game for catching on to these new compact phones and features. You can be quiet over there.. I know this. I'm not lying when I say the last one could've had a dual use as a weapon, but I'm never the first to set trends.. not with technology anyway. You haven't met me, but if you had, you'd understand..I fall down a lot too.. but I mean, I just got a dvd player this last Christmas. I'm slow, what can I say? Technology is a bit scary to me and I'm like the runt of the litter when it comes to keeping up with it. It's doubtful that will all change as I get older and can't keep up with the youngsters like I once did.. but hey, I can get a 50 cent ‛song' as one of my ringtones.. I could be hip.. I gots the 411 and mad style yo.. or at least I can sound like I might.. and yes, if I was any less black, I'd be clear.. I'm ok with that..

Tomorrow predicts to be in the 70's again and I think Greenlake and my bikini will be calling. I love that dirty feeling of Sunday not being the last day of the weekend. Just feels uber sexy like I just cheated on the work week with the pool boy... uh-huh...

Good karma does exist..

Not sure if anyone else has noticed, but it's my time. Yes, people.. sorry to disappoint you, but your time is over cuz God has seen the proverbial light, even if He had to create it Himself, and decided that my life shouldn't thoroughly suck so much anymore. Hallelujah! Praise Jesus and curly fries! The clouds have parted, I'm hearing choirs of angels, seeing rays of light shining on me (literally, if you read my last blog) and I must tell you, there's something in the air and it smells like happiness and cotton candy.

The prime example of this came late Saturday night while out with Gays of our Lives.. I love my gay boyfriends, don't get me wrong.. they were cuter than what most of Chop Suey had to offer and certainly knew how to dance better than the majority.. Oh wow.. you should've seen the poor children moving about like mental patients without their Ritalin.. it was sad.. like Sally-Struthers-children-with-flies-all-over-their-faces sad.. but I digress..

One of my all-time favorite dj's, Mark Farina, blessed us with his presence and it was such a great release to just move around and jitterbug all the bad ickies out of my system from the last two weeks.. I so needed it.. Upon taking a break since we could barely breathe the sweat-laden, humid air à la Dante's Inferno, a cute guy approached me I instantly recognized from a pub where we both used to work years ago.

Scott: Hey, do you remember me?

Me: Yes, of course..

*niceties ensue - blah blah blah*

Scott: I just wanted to tell you, I think about you all the time..

Me: *shocked* Really? Why?

Scott: Well, remember when we ended up together one night? I was really drunk..

Me: *embarrassed slightly cuz that's not how you ever imagined someone starting a brilliant conversation telling you they remember you but also the fact they were plastered.. badly* Oh.. yeah.. what about it? *wincing for what I thought was going to come next*

Scott: Well, I remember I had a good time with you.. and I woke up and said something stupid like ‛Wow, I was really wasted last night'. And what I should've said, was 'Hey, I really like you, I had a great time with you, can I see you again?'....

Me: *stunned into silence..mouth agape (if mouths can be agape these days.. then mine was)*

Scott: You didn't call me after that so I figured that was your answer.

Me: Um.. no, you blew me off, if I remember right.. I had a mad crush on you.. I think I would've called ..but there was a lot of awkwardness that day and since we both worked for that awful place, I understood what you had going on..

Scott: I think I was sort of an ass..

Me: Maybe.. but that place made us all like that.. I still liked you tho..

Scott: *laughed* Story of my life.. well, that's how I remembered it, but I do feel badly cuz I should've said what I meant to say and I have no idea why I didn't..stupid.. but I'm sorry.. for the record.. and now, you look great, very sexy and cute, and you're probably making someone very happy right now.

Me: *laughing even harder* Yeah.. 3 gay boys.. Story of MY life.. You should give me your number and we can catch up..

By the way, yes, I know.. this isn't quite the hilarious conversation you were all imagining.. but this is part of the story so just deal..

So he uses his phone to take my number and just call me since mine was in coat check and we both thought it'd register the missed call and that'd be that, we could reconnect.. and a bit later, I went up to him and told him not to leave without saying goodbye and he agreed he wouldn't.. but I had to finish dancing.. Literally, 10 minutes later, after my last bit of gettin' down with my bad self, which I must say, I was groo-oo-vin (So good, it needs 3 syllables), and I turned around and he and his friends were gone. I figure, no worries, he probably didn't want to interrupt me.. but when I checked my phone later, no missed call. The call just didn't take.. Yet the guy remembered my first AND last name. When introducing him, I didn't even get his first name right, which at the time, I would've sworn on my own life I knew.. He was very sweet about correcting me, tho I felt like an ass then, but he didn't care.. besides, he distracted me with his cuteness.. and it really has been like 8 years.. cut me some slack!

So ok.. you're asking, uh.. point please? Yes.. getting to that.. the point is, even if he never calls and thinks I've blown him off yet again, which I hope he doesn't cuz he is a really good guy, I got something guys don't offer very often - CLOSURE. And hell, an apology too. Bonus! Who'd have thunk it?! No one gets that 8 years after the fact.. just doesn't happen. I mean, maybe you aren't stunned.. but really, I was.. still am that he had the balls to approach me and say that when he easily could've avoided the whole situation. Maybe he was just trying to set his karmic record straight.. I have no idea..but it really feels like things are happening that just aren't normal for me.. life-changing as it were.. and God, it feels good.. so to whomever is twisting fate around in my favor.. uh.. please don't stop.. and oh yeah, thank you!

Thunderstorms, rainbows & the big picture

This is what I drove up to when I turned on my road home yesterday.. It didn't come out as beautiful as it really was..but it'll do..

It has been pouring here.. thunder and lightning.. like the opening scene in Day After Tomorrow.. I'm waiting for the sign of Noah.. I mean, holy crap.. the last couple of days it seems like God's saying something and maybe only a few of us are paying attention.. I don't know about the rest of you, but I am. Better to be safe than sorry people.. and if there's an ark to be built.. I'm sure as hell gettin' on it.. that's all I'm sayin'.

I've certainly seen better weeks than this last one. I've realized sometimes people who love you will do really stupid things that hurt you anyway.. realized maybe I don't handle those things so well.. ok, no maybe about that.. and goddamn do I need medicated for my pms! Lord.. yesterday I was tearing up over commercials for cotton.. I mean.. WHAT is THAT about?! And on a side note.. why the hell do they need commercials for cotton? Practically every piece of clothing I'm currently wearing and probably you're wearing.. and maybe your boss is wearing has cotton in it.. I use cotton balls for my nail polish remover, Q-Tips to lovingly remove the heinous wax in my ears every morning.. why why why do they need to advertise? Like we aren't hearing it loudly enough, ‛Hey people.. don't you just love that cotton?? Buy more!' It seems a tad unnecessary.. doesn't it? Are polyester and spandex taking over to the point we need to be worried? Am I the only one who's ever asked these questions? Hm.. maybe so..

But I drove up my road after a long day at work, after trying to make a positive move toward this friend in whom I'm sorely disappointed, after thinking this isn't the worst thing that could happen or has ever happened for that matter, and I see this gorgeous rainbow.. defying the fact there's visibly no sun out.. tho I'm sure it's there somewhere, thru the raining of cats and dogs and clouds and rolling thunder and reminded me this is SO small in that cliched big picture.. It sorta gave me a friendly but firm smack on the top of my head like.. ‛Hey don't be an idiot.. see this sort of random prism of light and color? THIS is amazing and incredible.. your problems..? Yeah, not so much.. so fucking get over it already.. Geez!' Yeah, just like that.. and then I laugh at myself cuz I had that little kermit-the-frog-banjo song, The Rainbow Connection, going thru my head and I felt like I was 12 and dorky all over again.. Oh shut up over there. You know the words too.. Don't lie..

The nasty funk I was in is being kicked to the curb and I'm happy I feel better.. Knowing drama is only perpetuated by further creation of drama reminds me I have to learn how to prevent that more often.. I mean I've changed a lot in the last year alone.. but remembering to keep myself from shifting into the drama-queen gear isn't second-nature yet.. It helps to have really good friends around with oh so many many skills of tolerating and listening to me.. I couldn't possibly be more blessed.. really, trust me on this..

What's on your friend menu?

Do you lean towards the deceitful? The unkind? The bitchy and sometimes just plain mean? Or like the rest of us, do you prefer your friends to be sweet and kind and supportive and loving and fun and trusting? I'm just wondering .. you know, for no reason whatsoever.. next to the thoughts of what's in my belly button and what the meaning of life is.. it's there, this thought of what makes up a good friend.. needing to be answered. Plaguing me like a door-to door Mormon insisting his 5 levels of heaven are better than my minimal amount of 1.. You have to answer (and, if you're me, argue with them too) the question when it comes up.

I've found my group of friends mostly made up of all the good things I want and need.. I'm often told at parties where I have a large group of people around I know that my friends are great and nice and most often, good people.. It always makes me happy to hear because I'd like to think the statement about you attracting those who most reflect yourself is true.. But over a little time, I've seen that little menu of characteristics I have in my friends evolve into a little trailer hitch addition of the negative.. and it's not caused by everyone.. just a random person here or there causing distraction, bumps in the road that you figure out quickly, change that bad tire out and distance yourself because that's the best thing for you.. but what happens if it's someone who isn't so fly by night.. someone you really like and you've known for more than a year..? This is why Mensa isn't calling me..well, among other reasons.. cuz I'm stumped..

Where do these people come from? Some bi-polar plane where they come off nice and sweet and cool at first and then when you like them they turn on you? Stop taking their medication? You know these people.. they're insecure but sort of ballsy and intimidating.. and there's something sexy about that sometimes.. all Will & Grace wit and kick ass style.. it suckers you in at first cuz you don't think that's completely all that they're about.. there's a compassionate and adorable side to them.. isn't there? Well, isn't there? Hellooooooooo..... *echo* *echo*.... Because if there isn't.. those type of friends should be limited to the people who don't have any.. who are so desperate they'll take any backstabbing, two-timing, lying and cowardly associate they can get.. right? Cuz who in their right mind would maintain a friendship like that.. someone with a masochistic tendency who likes crappy friends and also, coincidentally, stabbing themselves in the eye with a ballpoint pen?! No.. not necessarily Dorothy.. click those heels together and you might come home to find a little wicked witch in your favorite little Glinda.. It happens. Sometimes they become friends thru obvious ways.. thru boys you dated or other friends you know and you bond over everything... nights out, cute shoes, bad days, etc.. and you think, wow.. it's good to have good friends.. So it comes on slowly, at least to you cuz hey, maybe you're slow, like me, hence the Mensa comment above.. and you don't think anything of them telling a new person that you are their friend, but so and so is their GOOD friend..well of course not. The GOOD friend is practically her sister, known each other for years.. so whatever, that's really nothing.. or she introduces you to new guy she's been hanging out with.. she stops hanging out with him when she starts seeing someone else.. and you and he become friends.. suddenly you notice he's back on her radar...oh.. um.. interesting.. I guess.. you and he are just friends so it doesn't matter..but does it seem like she's trying to compete for some reason? No..that's silly, she wouldn't be like that.. would she? No, no... but then there was that guy she knew you liked.. and he doesn't like you now but did at one time, last summer and you didn't like him til he was well over it.. so what, so maybe she didn't seem so supportive when you needed to just whine about how you missed your chance.. It's not like you have to be completely mature or right when you bitch to your friends.. he disappears cuz he thinks you sorta screwed with his head, you understand, but it still sucks cuz you were friends, you thought.. but whatever, he's an ass, whether it's true or not you only need to hear someone back you up, just a little.. that 'yeah.. he sucks..' is so comforting. Not a lot to ask, right? That's what friends do..Except it sort of seems that you're the one who sucks for not liking him when you had the chance.. cuz you know, it's THAT easy to turn your feelings off and on.. right right.. stupid me. Mensa may not be calling me, but hey, the circus might..

So then it comes to pass out of no where that disappearing guy isn't so gone.. you're in his email addresses (Why why why do people do that anyway? It boggles me.. it's boggling.. ) for random everyone-in-his-address-book emails.. and thru niceties at first you question, like any NORMAL person would do, why he disappeared.. this gets into dredging things up you didn't mean to.. suddenly oh there was just a lot of awkwardness between him and your girlfriend he says because she and disappearing guy's close friend were a couple.. when they broke up, right around the time you decided you liked disappearing guy, (before he disappeared of course) low and behold, he and your friend apparently sucked face.. right when she knew you liked him.. a few times.. did I mention she knew I liked him? And it happened more than once? Oooooooooooooh.. Really? That's...hmm.. oh so interesting cuz I DIDN'T KNOW THAT....

*ahem*....

Honestly, it's not like I care now who they've smooched on .. I care I was told almost a year later.. and that no one ever contradicted my belief that he walked away cuz he didn't want anything to do with me. They actually created too much icky amongst themselves that he decided THEN to scurry away cuz he needed to be a better friend to his.. well, ‛friend'.. I guess.. I'm sure he was just racked with guilt.. or the clap maybe.. one can only hope.. I don't care what they did so much as the covering it up part. I just sorta have this thing about lies.. and the liars who tell them.. or witholding information, which is the same thing as a lie. And it's not like I'm proud of my reactions. Oh I went thru the gamut of emotions with this.. just plain freaked out a little. I shook so badly from the adrenaline yesterday I thought I had Parkinson's caused by one of her asenine emails of  ‛trying to be nice' when the only thing nice about it was that ‛nice' existed there in that sentence, but it was never actually something she was conveying. And then there was his slam that I wasn't mature - cuz oh yeah.. that's exactly what this is about.. MY maturity.. Completely forgot.. I would think maturity was the obvious thing they were probably missing along with GOOD JUDGEMENT last summer when they both decided to be crappy friends to people.. but oh yeah.. this is SOOOOOOO about me.. Thanks for the reminder.. I must be crazy.. forget the circus.. call for the psych ward.. I'm obviously a hazard to the community!

The funny thing about this.. when I calmed down.. was that I realized how easy this should've been. Simply put, a real friend would've emailed or *gasp* called me (instead of getting mad cuz I didn't call her and deal with this the way she thought I should) and said, ‛I'm really sorry. Please tell me what I can do to make this better. Let me know when you want to talk.' They're simple words.. very short sentences.. nothing complicated or above 3rd grade level, but she chose to email sans even a small greeting and asked for her things back - not forgiveness or understanding - nope, just ‛please return blah cuz I know you borrowed them..' Oooook.. like if she didn't act quickly I was going to burn them or something.. cuz you know it's not like I want to keep them.. but obviously I'm such a mental case, immature and oh yeah, wrong to be upset cuz she's SOOOOO trustworthy, that I couldn't possibly be 33 and adult and able to return things that don't belong to me. And I can't believe I was thinking about stupid things like friendship and trust when ohmygod - STOP EVERYTHING - I have her belongings!

*sigh*

It does help tho.. cuz I had this epiphany.. the one of my life without her in it, where things are a bit easier and happier cuz there's no questionable girlfriend who talks behind my back or competes with me for whatever guy or was voted ‛most likely to deceive' . It's genius really. Is that my phone ringing? I think Mensa might've changed its mind. Or is it Zagat cuz I mean, my friend menu could be back up to its 4 star rating?? I'm betting tho it's just the clue phone I'm finally realizing is for me.. cuz it really IS that simple..

In memory

Today's my dad's birthday.. I think he would've been 59 if he was still alive. It's weird.. with those I was close to that have died I usually I forget their birthdays. I don't know why. And I feel so badly when I forget and that I should've mourned them more, but I think they'd rather I think of them on all the other days during the year that I do.. I dunno... they're dead, so I have no idea what they think..or even if they do.. I'm sure they do, but hoping they're too busy in whatever I imagine heaven to be playing volleyball with Ghandi or something.. well, maybe not volleyball.. Ghandi's a bit on the short side for that.. badmitten maybe.. yeah..

On the 15th it'll be 5 years ago that he died in his sleep - we should all be so lucky. His heart was just worn out. He was sick anyway.. had leukemia but was in remission, going on 5 years, but I realized that is about as long as they expect you to live when you've had it.. and his body was so damaged from every pill that was supposed to keep him from having something worse...he was basically legally blind - can't remember if that was caused by the meds or not, his hip was deteriorating from the meds he took to keep him from being nauseaus all the time and that bothered him enough he had to walk with a cane, stuff like that.. and that was besides the results of the (and please forgive any misspellings here cuz I'm no doctor) graft vs. host disease he got about 6 months after the bone marrow transplant he received from his brother near the end of my last year in college in 1995 .. for no reason, the new bone marrow didn't really like him much - most of my family didn't either so no surprise there, but he was still my dad and watching his tummy swell up to something that looked like it belonged more on a pregnant woman about 8 months along was hard. Fluids weren't processing out of his body like they should so they accumulated in the cells between the skin tissues we were told. They had to operate a few times, putting what's called a shunt in his body to help drain the fluids, except sometimes the shunt would get plugged and they'd have to go in and fix that too.. and I do believe he and Mom were both thinking positive that he'd get that new liver he was on the list for.. but I think I was the only one who was realistic enough to know if they ever called his name, he'd never survive the healing it would take from that process if he ever got out of the operating room..but I never said that outloud.

Yeah.. let me tell you, not so much fun.. especially if you knew my dad.

We were one of those families that defined the saying ‟We put the ‛fun' back in dysfunctional". If even the smallest thing got on Dad's nerves, he didn't just tell you, he yelled about it.. well after you left the room he was still going on and on.. and on and on.. he was, to say the least, a very angry person. The oldest in his family of 4 boys, he received the brunt of all the discipline from my grandfather, who, in his old age you could never imagine him being so rough, but I'm sure, when he was younger, he took the belt to my father too many times.. that's the way it was back then. And all that abuse resulted in some seriously fucked up self-esteem and lots of unresolved anger in my father and, being the redneck he was, God love him, he never dealt with that. Don't get me wrong, Dad could be the biggest sweetheart too.. my favorite memories are when he would call me Suzie Q, which had always been his nickname for me, and he'd whistle thru his teeth on the 's' or the times when I was so small he'd let me wrap my arms around his leg and he'd walk around with me sitting on his cowboy boot all giggly and pretending I wasn't really there.

He definitely had his good moments and I loved him dearly being literally, the biggest man in my life.. but the illness only heightened the bad moods and made him pretty much intolerable to be around when he was really uncomfortable and/or in pain. I hated the way his gorgeous blue eyes turned icy cold when he was mad.. I remember holidays just being so nerve-wracking wondering if something might launch him into a tirade..but, I think ultimately, he was just really, really afraid of dying.

I couldn't blame Dad for his fear.. Just a few months before in February, my mother lost her step-dad to cancer and he'd apparently been battling it for 10 years, but I didn't know about it. He seemed fine to me.. but then suddenly it escalated over the holidays and he became a shadow of himself, unable to talk and moments away from death as his whole family surrounded him saying goodbye. When he was going, my cousin was sitting next to him holding his hand - my grandfather just squeezed it and Lyle shouted to my gram. God - almost nothing is more heart-wrenching than watching your grandmother run into a room desperate, saying goodbye to the man she's loved for more than 25 years, huddled over him, holding on for dear life and telling him through her tears that it's ok.. she loves him and he can go... No really, just try to find something worse.. I dare you.. I mean, it was beautiful and amazing and awful at the same time.. I still feel very lucky to have witnessed all that, but I hated to see her so broken.

The day before my father died was Mother's Day and I'd called to say hello to both of my parents - I think I'd driven the 4 & 1/2 hour trek down to Stayton the week before for Dad's birthday so I'd just been there - and when Mom was talking to me, the usual small stuff we do, she happened to mention that Dad had been ‛weird' lately.. which isn't something she ever said about anyone so when I asked what she meant by it, she told me he'd been really forgetful, absent-minded, forgetting where keys are, that sort of thing - but sort of goofy too - also just unlike him. When it was his turn to chat with me I asked him if he was feeling ok and he actually did sound rather spry when he said, ‛Yeah I'm fine, Suzie.' We had a really good talk too.. just about nothing, but not like we'd had in a while.. it was so nice and more than that, a relief for once.

I rather like remembering that day more than the next when I was back home and Mom called my office that morning and told me not so calmly but point blank that Dad was dead. He'd gone back to bed after getting up that morning and hanging out with her for a bit before her dentist's appt. When she came back, she reminded him it was time to take his meds and there was no response, she went to his room. He was still just a bit warm, but gone. She tried to revive him and I don't really enjoy thinking of her completely hysterical calling 911 and going thru all that, but I know it happened.

About 5 years before that one of my best friends had died, fallen asleep at the wheel on his way back to Arcada from Portland after his mother's funeral (a different buzz kill story for another time) and I felt his presence for a good 2 months after that.. I can't explain it, maybe it was cuz he was so young and it was so unexpected... but I was in my father's room the afternoon on the day he died and there wasn't anything. A month or so after, I had a dream of him where he seemed so sad and in pain, but told me to look after Mom and make myself happy. I woke up crying, but instantly noticed the most interesting thing.. the room felt tingly.. like some energy had been there and the tail end of it was just about gone.. I don't know how better to explain it.. but I was so relieved to have felt something finally - some sort of acknowledgement. I didn't see him, but I know it was Dad.

At Christmas this year, Mom told me he actually appeared to her one evening when she was in the tub. She heard him call her name, she got out and saw him in the room across from the bathroom - just standing there... and he told her he was ok and not to worry. I prefer to think of him that way - out of pain, happy, and free. Again, we should all be so lucky..

I love you Pop.. happy birthday!