12.04.2008

I'm Over It

This is a repost of a blog I wrote for myspace a few months ago. I think it bears repeating.

• What is it with chicks and Tori Amos? I wish I could say I made it through all the way through at least one of her albums, but I just couldn't stay awake that long. She is not a goddess. Nor is she the leader of the feminist movement. As far as I'm concerned, the only movement she's leading is in my bowels.



• Why are bad haircuts trendy? You just spent $60 to look like my 5-year-old niece cut your hair with Barbie scissors in the dark. And don't tell me you're "weird" and "artsy," because any real artist wouldn't be dropping every last penny they have to get the same shitty haircut as all the rest of the suckers you wanna impress. They'd be spending it on gear and art supplies. And booze and drugs.



• Bands, you don't need a gimmick. You need good songs. If you'd just quit re-writing Green Day and Nirvana songs for five minutes and look out the god damn window, you might find some real inspiration. And put those silly costumes away. We're not doing Hairspray, we're doing rock n' roll. If you're spending more time styling your bad haircut and picking out a stage outfit than you do working out your material, you're a douche – a very unoriginal douche. But you'll still probably get a record deal with Dreamworks and appear on the Jimmy Kimmel show, while all the amazing musicians I know will continue to struggle to make enough money to buy gas to play some shitty club in Ohio.



• Drinking cheap, shitty beer is what you do when you are broke or there are no other alternatives. You're not making a social statement; you're just drinking bad beer. Take that $60 you were gonna spend on next month's trendy-shitty-mullet haircut and go to your nearest micro-brewery. You can thank me later by building some fucking character. 



• Getting naked on myspace doesn't make you a revolutionary. It means the chicks down at The Body Shop have better business sense than you do.

11.10.2008

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Well, hi. Is this thing on?


When Obama got the vote and Stevie Wonder came on, I said, "Man, they couldn't have picked a better song. Who's d.j.ing this thing?" I've been without tv for months, haven't listened to much radio, just reading my news mostly. Maybe that's the reason I missed the fact this song was already tied into Obama's campaign long before election night. Anyway, good choice.


Speaking of signing, sealing and delivering, I got laid off from my job last month, just after making my first mortgage payment. I was disappointed, but I can't say I was surprised. Business is slow, and not just with my employer. I think everybody's feeling it, though during my exit interview, the HR partner gave an encouraging speech about how he didn't believe things were as bad as everyone was saying about the economy and how he was relieved I felt like the office environment there was fun, because that was really important to him. This, as I sat across from him jobless, staring with what I hope was minimal contempt showing in my face. 


I took it really well. People, if you ever need to lay someone off and want to feel as guilt-free as possible, I'm your girl. I've got my mother's southern charm and manners wired in, and I was quick to offer understanding and sympathy. It's not exactly their fault I have to be let go, though I was a little offended I was canned before the free lunch program was, but hey, people gotta eat, right? I was handling things just fine, even when I had to break the news to B as he picked me up from work, and I came out of the building carrying a box and a lamp. He was all, "Ok, we're gonna deal with this" mode, as was I. Until I got home and saw my wayward, aging animals and our new house, the first real home we've had that's ours and only ours, and I suddenly realized that everything I ever wanted was right there in front of me and it was entirely possible that I could lose all of it. So I wept, while B held me and stroked my hair and reassured me that we would not lose the house and we would find a way through this together. Then he poured me a bourbon, I washed my face, and we headed to the bar to watch the presidential debate with friends, where more drinks were poured for me and there was a lot of bird-flipping and foul language that came from my direction when the white guy with all the houses was talking. If you weren't rooting for my team, you probably would have been very annoyed. 


Two weeks almost to the day from my "5 o'clock special meeting," B got laid off from his job. We weren't so much surprised it happened as we were by the timing. We spent a few afternoons in bed and evenings in bars till the shock wore off. Luckily, we have an excellent sense of humor and pretty similar interests. We have embraced what the gluttony of corporate America has lead our economy to give us, and we are using the time as an opportunity to work on things we really care about but don't get paid for. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared, but I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't excited about the possibilities. 

9.25.2008

Fun Till Daddy Takes The T-Bird

It's Fun to Work in an Office
There are many things I enjoy about working in an office environment. Take yesterday, for example. I was wearing a bright yellow scoop neck shirt with puffy sleeves that I bought at this awesome second-hand store in the Highlands. The first comment was made by my boss, the picture of sincerity: "Are you wearing my favorite shirt? Aww, you are! Gosh, I wish I could wear stuff like that."

After a solid hour of waiting for her to return with work as promised, I walked up to her desk where she was socializing with another, equally sincere co-worker. Staring at my shirt, Sincere Co-Worker asks with enthusiasm, "Are you going to have a sunshine-y day?!" I returned a blank stare in her direction and replied emphatically, "YES. YES I AM."

Other comments made by Sincere Boss in the last 5 work days also include, but are not limited to:
• "That skirt is soo cute. Did you lose weight?"
• "Is that new eye shadow? It's shiny."


Fun Quotes From A Weekend Visit With Family

• "I know how you guys just love music, and we have the BEST music at our church. You guys would just LOVE to come to a service some time." You betcha.

• "I call gay people 'flamers'." How wonderful and kind of you.

• "Do you want some bottled water?" x300.

• "I want a cousin!" As in, "You need to have a baby and provide one."

• "I'm never going to speak to _______ ever again." An old standard.

A Little Effing Credit
In case anybody's keeping track, I'd like to point out that in the name of keeping peace, I kept my internal dialogue internal. Just when I thought the dam of indemnity would burst and I would say something I really meant, I promptly excused myself and went to bed. All-in-all, a successful visit: no big fights and my dignity only minorly scathed. Several days of xanax and mind numbing activity to help erase my memory, and I should be back to normal.

Yep, It's Still Awesome
Owning a house centrally located to everywhere I need to go on a regular basis is still totally fucking amazing. Being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want, while answering to no one, is even better. It's the freest I've ever been in my whole entire insignificant little life. And I didn't even have to take over a third-world country.





9.18.2008

Let Me Come On Home

I re-read those last few posts and I want to assure both of you readers that I am fine, and I won't be fleeing the state or jumping off any buildings. The funny thing about a breaking point is, once you reach it, you're suddenly filled with an eerie calm.

We'd been planning for months to take this past Friday and Monday off of work to camp in Asheville, NC with friends. But after Zoe did the canine equivalent of tearing her ACL, we couldn't in good conscience leave her with my mom for four days. She literally couldn't even hold herself up to go to the bathroom. Serious bummer. She's doing better though.

Given all we had left to do with our move, canceling was the right thing to do, though I would much rather have spent 4 days running around the woods, sleeping outside and cooking over a fire. We're in the home stretch now – by Sunday we should be completely moved. Then we can spend the rest of the year sorting through all the crap we shoved in boxes and didn't bother to look at, in an effort to get the job done as quickly as possible.

The new house rocks. Every time we get in the car to go some place, we can't believe how short our drive is. I'm not sure everyone can fully appreciate what this means to us, but it's huge. The layout of our house is so conducive to our pet situation, too, that I don't think we even realized when we put the offer in how well it would work. Having a basement where we can store stuff and put the litter boxes is awesome. Living on one floor is great for the dogs – no difficult stairs for them to climb. Plus, we've finally got a porch big enough to hang out on and a dining room with lots of seating that we've already used a bunch. Living closer and having spaces to hang out in means B & I get to be much more sociable. We like to cook for people and have parties, and we just couldn't do that very often living where we did. Things are a-changin'.

One drawback to the house is trying to park our van on our parking pad. The van is huge; the alley is not. B. accidentally bumped the fence and scraped up the side rail. If you don't do it just the right way, it takes about 50 turns to back it in. But we're starting to get the hang of it.

With all the chaos and stress of moving, it still hasn't totally sunk in what we've done. We just got our first mortgage payment though...something tells me it won't be long. Regardless, it feels great not to have to answer to anyone about anything. I feel like I'm finally where I've always wanted to be in life: independent and self sufficient. I don't owe nobody nothin' except the bank, and I don't have to hang out with them for holidays.

I'd offer more, but I'm gonna jump in my car and go home for lunch. Gonna play with the dogs and make food in the peace of my own kitchen.

9.09.2008

I Want Action, Satisfaction

I am a woman of action. I don't like sitting around feeling miserable about one problem or another, waiting for a solution to present itself. And I tend to get impatient with others when they do, regardless of whether or not it's any of my business. I get what my Eastern KY/Southern IN mother refers to as a "wild hair" and decide I'm going to fix everything. And I'm going to do it right now, because if I have to sit around for one more minute thinking about it and not acting, I will lose my mind. Admittedly, patience is not my strongest virtue.

That's generally what's been happening to me over the last couple weeks. It's gotten worse as more things pile on, which they tend to do when you are juggling as many things as I am at the moment, until I have run myself ragged and become a giant anxious mess, trying to accomplish way more than one can reasonably expect themselves to do in a single day. As these things go, lack of sleep plays a sneakily big role in your perception of things and your ability to cope. Go without a good night's sleep long enough, and you'll find yourself on the roof of the nearest tall building, considering the fastest way down.

So that's why I'm taking a step back to take it all in.

Sure, we've got a pile of crap to sort and pack at the old house and a pile of crap to unpack and put away at the new house. And of course we're swamped with other commitments and likely won't accomplish those things in the next 2 weeks. Yes, due to our negligence, the ceiling fan we bought for the living room was installed in the studio, and in the process, the old ceiling fan was destroyed, so I'll have to drop $100 on another one. Of course the dog slipped on the pergo floor and tore her ACL and will have to be kept calm for months and may never walk without a limp again.

This is just par for the course, right?

The important thing is that I have running water, food and the health of my loved ones (minus an ACL). Autumn is near, the weather is cooler and good things are on the horizon. All I have to do is keep it together for a few more weeks. Just a few more weeks...

Anyone got an aspirin? Maybe an anvil you can drop on my head?

9.03.2008

Time Is On My Side

I just had the shortest drive to work I've had in ten years.

What do you people do with the extra 20 minutes?

A: Put your make-up on in the ladies room at the office, use the public hair brush to tame the bed head and realize you didn't put on deodorant this morning. And um, you smell bad.

Oh well. I'm moving. Gimme a break.

I have never been so glad to see a Labor Day weekend conclude in all my life. It was a looong, jam-packed weekend, and I am so glad I can finally concentrate on the things I really want to focus on.

•••••••••••••••

Brought the animals to the new house last night. Operation Fuzzy: Your mission? Coral 3 cats into a kennel barely large enough and move them, along with 2 dogs, all their food, medicines, beds and treats, safely and quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.

Marty, our feline who looooves our canines, popped right out of the crate at the new digs all, "Aahhh, yes, I totally approve. We can put my bed here, my food here, and yes, over here I will poop in the box..." Tommy U. Bastard stayed with his brother Lew in the crate for a good twenty minutes before slowly venturing out (most likely in search of food), all skittish and crouched low. But Lewis, well... He was pretty much, "I don't like it. I don't like it AT ALL. Eff you guys." By the time we were trying to sleep though, everybody was out and about, exploring, meowing, whining, scratching, jumping and running through the new house like a heard of caribou – just like old times!

•••••••

My poor little Gina is having a lot of trouble with her back legs. The vet thinks she's developing degenerative milopathy, which I'm still trying to figure out what to do about. I gather there's no cure, but I've read you can stave off the symptoms through massage and a special diet. I guess in German Shepherds this can develop into an auto immune disease, even more reason to act fast. If anyone has any info on this, I'd be interested to hear it. But anyway, it's making getting across slick floors really difficult for her, and our house has all pergo floors and some tile, so we're investing into rugs to help her get around easier. Breaks my heart. But I'm so glad I'm finally living close enough to run home at lunch and get there quickly after work to give both her and Zoe more attention. What will I do without my fuzzies someday?

A: Get suckered into more. Who am I kidding?

8.27.2008

We're On Lockdown At Our House

Ok, so those lyrics are my own, and to a song not even recorded, so there's absolutely no way you can reference this. But like Frankie says, "I do it my way."

********

We're buying a house. We close in two days. I have about 6 boxes packed.

So, um, yeah...

Last night, as we were lying on our dirty sheets, we asked ourselves when was the last time either of us took a shower. We couldn't remember. This morning we finally bathed (and even washed our hair), however, I failed to remember to brush my teeth. So I've been sitting here at work all day with a stale mouth and grimy teeth.

At home, there are boxes and things scattered everywhere. Along with a pile of dog shit on my front porch, left by aging Shepherd, who doesn't seem to realize when she's having a bowel movement anymore, and some cat puke on the last bit of carpet I plan to remove as soon as I can get everything else I have to do done. Things are a bit messy at the moment.

We're very excited about buying our first home. And a little nervous. There have been meltdowns and strained conversations and the kind of scene you totally make fun of other people for making, say, fighting in the mall parking lot in front of Sears on your way to purchase appliances. But for the most part, we are really, really excited.

This would be even more exciting (and undoubtedly include less meltdowns) had I not committed to doing 3000 favors for other people during the same week I am trying to buy a house. But I agreed to these things months ago, (probably out of some insecurity about being a good friend, saying no, and passing on opportunities to challenge myself) before I knew we'd find a home. Now I just gotta make lemonade out of dog poop.

So I would like to say, to all of my friends who bother to read my sarcastic dribble, that I like you very, very much. But I can't hang out right now. I can't come to your party, I'm not going to the show, I won't be at the bar for drinks, I can't go to the movie, and I can't help chaperone your little sister's party. As wonderful as it is to be liked and invited, I fear I may collapse under this pressure and find myself on some highway, alone in my car, thousands of miles from here, if I make one more commitment, however small. But I promise, when things return to normal in a week or so, I will do anything you want – make your invites, d.j. your reception, sing on your album, come to your show, watch your pets for you while you're out of town, give you a ride, you name it.

8.14.2008

I Read The News Today, Oh Boy

I read this article as I was watching the minutes on the clock snake by, which lead me to this 2005 article.

You know how rock beats scissors and scissors beats paper? What beats this? Because I don't think the kind of artillery it would take to kill this sucker is street legal...

8.11.2008

Going to California With An Aching In My Heart

Really, it's leaving California that puts an aching in my heart. So much so that I haven't even been able to post about the trip, and I've been home for a week.

If you live in the Midwest and have taken a vacation, you've likely gone to the East Coast – say to Florida, or North or South Carolina. And at the end of this vacation, you've likely felt some brief disappointment, lamenting what precious time you spent at the beach, surrounded by foreign vegetation and wildlife not found in our land-locked states. What I feel when I leave the great state of California far surpasses the conventional regret accompanied by the return home. It is soul-crushing. It's like coming home after years and years away – but just for a minute – and then you have to leave again.

I'm probably being melodramatic. I do love Indiana and Kentucky, their beauty and more affordable, somewhat slower-paced way of life. I often belt my war-cry, "I'm a Hoosier fa life!" mainly because there's such rivalry between these states in which I have dual lives, living in one and working in the other. But in my mind, they're pretty similar. I'm just partial to where I've lived the longest and gone to college.

I've been making trips to California for years. I have family just outside San Francisco, and until 2001, in Los Angeles. It was only on this last trip that I ventured farther north to Humboldt County.

Now, before we start cracking jokes about Marijuana Country, it's important to note that I was there for a destination wedding in the Redwood National Forest. This was not some hippie journey to find America's dankest weed. (Although we did that too.) This was a spiritual experience, not only because of the sacred event that brought us there, but because of our surroundings. Blue, blue water, giant ocean rocks, black sand, elk, redwoods, and acres and acres of forest filled with clown-sized clover leaves and banana slugs.

We arrived Wednesday night, a day late, thanks to US Airways and an awful, now kind of comical trip that I will likely blog about later when we're not pontificating the holy wonders of the west. We had a full day and a half to explore the area with the bride and groom before everyone else arrived. They picked us up from the airport, and after 3 hours of sleep and 10 hours of traveling, all we wanted was a hot shower, a non-airport meal and a bed.

But they had other plans. N & T had rented a convertible for their trip, which with the top down, left barely enough room for our luggage in the trunk. But it was worth it. Instead of taking us to the hotel, they drove us straight to Patrick's Point, a state park just off the 101. B & I didn't know where we were headed, but as we turned into the park, we instantly fell silent. It was like walking into church. The four of us made a short hike to Wedding Rock, where N & T kindly passed out local micro-beers, bread and black bean hummus. If only I could arrive with such a reception after every shitty airport experience.

On Friday we checked into a house in Trinidad. Not only did we have an incredible view of the Bay of Trinidad, but we could see whales swimming around at any given time. For Midwesterners who have never seen fish so large, this isn't merely environmental wallpaper. Throughout the day, more friends and family arrived, until our small group exploded into a chaotic, joyous party. Standing on the deck, local wine in hand, looking around at all the excited faces, I felt so grateful to be part of this experience.

Ours was a house of seven girls and B. (Lucky B.) These girls are almost ten years my junior, and I could only have hoped for one girlfriend as sweet and sincere as these girls at that point in my life, let alone 6. Getting ready for the wedding was THE girliest scene I think I've ever been part of – hair and make-up and clothes flying EVERYWHERE, everyone helping each other get ready, picking out jewelry, passing around the wine, giggling. It was awesome.


N & T's ceremony was by far THE best wedding ceremony I've ever witnessed. And not just for the obvious reason – standing in a clearing of a group of giant redwoods in Northern California – but also because it was the most personal ceremony I've seen. Before the vows, each of the parents had a little something to say about the bride and groom. Then the bride and groom shared a personal story about the other. Oh, we were all a mess. I didn't cry this much at my own damn wedding. All tears of joy, of course. For what's worth making a fool of yourself in a group more than witnessing the union of good friends and most importantly, two people who obviously couldn't be more perfect for each other. Ah, it's just gross, really. Wonderfully, beautifully gross. And I was honored to be one of just 25 folks to be there.

••••••••••••

On our last day, we took a trip to Fern Canyon. Literally, a canyon walled from top to bottom with ferns. And if that doesn't interest you, they apparently shot some of the Ewok scenes from Return of the Jedi there.

7.08.2008

Happiness Is A Warm Gun

Yesterday was a stressful day for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that I left my house at 8:30 a.m. not to return until nearly midnight. Lack of sleep has left me running ragged today, and I find myself muttering under my breath in fits and starts about things I need to do, things I should have done, why people are so uncooperative, why they lack such basic common sense and just generally cursing for no other reason than the comfort it provides.

I need a vacation.

Earlier I shuffled sulkily into the ladies room and closed the door to my favorite stall, the one with the window. Sadly, it's the only view I get all day, unless I go outside, and it's also as close to a sanctuary as I'm going to find in the office. I muttered to myself that people have all kinds of worse problems, and I should be thankful I don't have any of those. I have a couple friends who work in the children's hospital, caring for kids with cancer on a daily basis. A bad day at work for them can mean someone actually dies. And here I am pettily complaining about my lack of sleep.

Still, we all need an attitude readjustment now and then. Fortunately, I leave for a trip to northern California three weeks from today. One of my dear friends is tying the knot, and I'm a bridesmaid. Although there will be errands to run and things to do and the kind of chaos that only occurs when you're traveling in a group, I expect the scenery alone will be a spiritual experience. I've never been this far north before, and California is one of my favorite places. My friends are getting married in the Redwood National Forest, and this will be the first time I've ever seen a redwood tree in person. I'm stoked! If only I could drive my Hummer all the way there, my a/c blasting and windows down, chain smoking and chucking fast food garbage out the window...

6.25.2008

Shiny, Happy People


I know, two posts in one day. But there are so many things wrong with this ad I came across on CNN today, I just had to share.



1. "It's So Easy"
Honey, ain't nothin' easy except for Sunday morning.

2. "Become an optimist"
Why, is my unobstructed view of our stark reality offensive to you?

3. "Follow these steps to be happier, healthier and more attractive"
Sounds great! Wait, is this woman in the picture a clear representation of where these steps will lead me? All this time trying to find the right skinny jeans, when what I really needed was a bow tie the size of my head. And nothing screams health and happiness better than a severe, unyielding grin of magnificent proportions. "DON'T WORRY! EVERYTHING IS GREAT!!! MOMMY'S GOING TO TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING, DARLING! Now, where is Mommy's gun?"

Don't Hit Me No More

~Mabel John

*******

Yesterday, as I was coming to life over a cup of coffee and the morning news, an "etiquette expert" was discussing the appropriateness of pantyhose. It appears to be gradually disappearing from the work place, thanks to a younger generation of women who have succumbed to the comfort and, let's face it, less-than-professional look of bare legs.

Oh, the vulgarity. The lewdness of foregoing this sheer, nude netting and leaving the bare, unchaste stems of your feminine flower exposed for all to see.

With a knowing shake of her head, she urges women everywhere to at least have the good sense to wear hose if you're going to be in front of a podium.

Ladies, be warned. Between the line of propriety and obscenity lies a sheer pair of nylons.

****

Do you hear that? It's the sound of the blood, sweat and tears of our fore-mothers being flushed down the toilet.

6.17.2008

I Can't Get Started

Ira Gershwin / Vernon Duke

I've been at work for about 2 hours and just noticed my jean skirt has a large dark stain down the front of it. Probably coffee. I seem to remember thinking to myself that I'd have to launder it ahead of schedule. Which is to say, somewhere between the 10th and 12th time wearing it.

I should probably care more, but the truth is, I was lounging around in my underwear with my husband, drinking coffee and watching bad television till the last possible minute this morning. And that was way more fun than sorting through my closet for clothes that:

a) are clean
b) fit right
c) aren't falling apart

And

my work

has

been

soooo

slooooooooooooow.

Seriously. It's maddening. I can feel my ass getting flatter and my eyes glazing over every minute I sit in front of this soul-sucking machine. Must. get. sunshine. and. fresh. air.

*********

My Zo dog had surgery to remove her tumor yesterday. We'll pick her up tonight. I cringe to think about her hobbling around, all dopey-eyed with her belly in stitches and her head in a E-collar.

This morning Gina sighed and rested her big fuzzy head heavily in my hand, looking up at me with those doe eyes. I couldn't have said it better myself. We don't like when our meatball of a dog is away from the family den.

**********

B & I drove and walked around a few neighborhoods where we may potentially move this past weekend. It was interesting. And encouraging. That's all I'll say for now. It's a busy week, so I have to focus on the here and now and let the rest simmer in my subconscious for a bit.

**********

I'm trying to read The Red Tent right now. So far, I'm about 3 pages in, and it's boring the fuck out of me. I'm sure having 8 years of Catholic Schools under my belt didn't exactly fuel my enthusiasm for a spin-off of a Bible story either. I'm going to finish it though, because I'm determined to see what the fuss is all about.

6.10.2008

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

This morning we were halfway to work before B & I realized we were dressed almost identically. I wish I could say this was a rare occasion, but unfortunately, it happens with alarming regularity.

We'll have been married four years on Thursday. We've been dating for the last nine. I'm not making excuses, just sharing facts. It's disgusting, really. I keep waiting to be miserable like everyone suggests one becomes in marriage, but it just hasn't happened yet. It's probably just as well. It's much easier to live in a small house with five animals when everyone gets along.

********

We officially have a loan approval to buy a house. Just knowing I was going to send over our personal information to the lender today made my sleep fitful. I woke up anxious till my much calmer, more reasonable half pointed out we don't HAVE to do anything. That's good, because as anyone who knows me knows, I just hate being told my business.

********

Now that we're talking about moving, everything that I found insufficient or displeasing about our current home has been romanticized. For one thing, I never thought we had a very big yard till I started shopping for homes in the city. Turns out we've got a rather big lot. I've also been thinking about the pets, especially my elderly dogs. How will they adapt to a new home? How can I uproot them from the comfort and security of our cozy little den to the strangeness of a new neighborhood? And then I smack my forehead and remind myself that they're dogs. The only thing they care about is what time they're going to get dinner and how many treats they can scam out of me in the meantime.

But still, I know I will miss living here. I moved around a lot growing up, and this has been one of the most consistent places in my life. I have so many fond memories; climbing the sweet gum tree that used to be in the front yard, playing jacks on the front porch, my grandmother frying chicken, running around outside with my cousins, pulling grapes off the vines she used to grow, my brother telling ghost stories at bedtime, and sitting around the tiny kitchen with my family, the table set with iced tea and fresh sliced onions and tomatoes from her garden. There are even scents that occasionally still permeate the house and yard as they did decades earlier, and when they hit me, send me reeling into a dreamy state of nostalgia, for the family lost to age, illness and divorce and the time we spent together that seems altogether infinite and brief.

It's strange to think how seven years ago at 24, with the man I would eventually come to marry, I came abruptly and unexpectedly to live in this house as an adult; my grandmother buried only the year before. I remember turning onto the street in the middle of the night, utterly exhausted from hours of driving cross-country, wondering how the fuck I'd gotten myself into this mess. B was fresh out of college, and I wasn't much farther ahead. We were unemployed, broke and most likely clinically depressed. It took a few years before things really started to come together. We gradually cleaned up and redecorated the home, which had sat vacant for a year, my grandmother's furniture just as she'd left it, jackets and scarves still hung in closets, apples she'd canned herself still lining the pantry shelves. I can't quite express the mixture of joy and sadness I felt whenever I would open one of the jars to fry the apples, just as she had done for us so many times before. She was such a frugal woman, and it pleases me to think how delighted she would be that they didn't go to waste.

I have the sense that some of my cousins find it morbid or unsettling to be in her house since she passed, but I couldn't feel more different. She had nothing but love for her family, and I sense nothing but good vibrations in this little home that unbelievably housed two adults and four children for so many years, and somehow managed to accommodate all of us during so many Thanksgivings and Christmas' and Mother's Days. More than half a century ago, my grandfather, who died when my mother was just 17, arrived unannounced on the doorstep of this same house after being discharged at the end of World War II. He traveled by train from California and walked the few miles home, his Navy-issued metal suitcase in hand. Knocking on the front door so early in the morning, I can only imagine the shock and surprise when my grandmother opened the door and saw him standing there. And here I am, decades later, sitting on the same porch with my own husband.


This is me carrying my grandfather's suitcase.

I'm not sure what's going to become of it when we move. I don't think my mother, who is now the deed holder, has any intention of selling it. So it isn't like I won't be able to come back. And even if that day arrives, nothing can detract from the history of our experiences, which I find more valuable than anything tangible.

6.04.2008

Almost Paradise

Yes, I just quoted the Love Theme from Footloose. Had the soundtrack on vinyl as a kid, because that's the kind of Footloose fan I am. I can't help that it's relevant, people.

*******

We spent the weekend around Indy, having a marathon visit with as many friends and family as we could possibly squeeze into a 48-hour period. We stayed with my in-laws, who live on 13 beautiful acres in a small town just outside the city. When we arrived late Friday evening, my mother-in-law, who is a fabulous cook, had hot homemade chicken and noodles waiting for us. Noodles that were made from scratch and chicken slow-cooked all day. It was amazing. Each morning we took a leisurely stroll around their property, coffee in hand, kids and dogs in tow. My father-in-law is a phenomenal gardener, and their property is something to behold. Gravel and stone walkways flow around tall pine trees and blooming flower beds. Honeysuckle and clematis cover the wood and copper trellis he constructed himself, under which B & I were married. Farther down the path is his workshop, filled with wood-working equipment, a handsome work bench he recently finished, made from wood found on their property, and a wood-burning stove. Two paned-glass windows overlook acres of green grass and a few fruit trees. Next to the workshop is the chicken coop. But this isn't any old coop with any old chickens. There are 4 or 5 breeds, and they are actually quite pretty. He built them their very own mini-house, green with white trim, with a side door leading to a small fenced yard, which our nephew kept climbing in and out of on his hands and knees (gross). Our niece made a game of trying to catch the chickens, and whichever one was unlucky enough to be caught was paraded around under her arm till we could coax her to put it back. Beside the chicken coop is the vegetable garden and a cold box for growing fresh greens year-round. Several acres beyond their house is where the former owner had planted Christmas trees for sale. Most of them have been cleared, but what's left is much too large to fit in anyone's living room. Between the aisles of trees the ground is blanketed with pine needles. I once had the rare pleasure of walking through there alone except for their little Shelty, when a grey-horned owl gracefully took flight from the top of a tree, startling both me and the dog. There's an acre or so of prairie and wild flowers and a path has been mowed between the prairie and trees for walking. Various bird houses are scattered around the property. Back toward the house, a labyrinth design, not unlike what you might find on the back of a cereal box, was carved out in an area of grass, and the kids jog the winding path covered in small white pebbles.

It's not a bad way to live. B & I are considering becoming home-owners ourselves, and after spending time in their little paradise, it's hard to decide between the peace of country living with a commute or the convenience of city living with smaller quarters. I expect I'll be debating more about this in blogs to come.

I'll leave you with a quote from Ben's mom, talking to her grandkids this weekend. If we ever have children, I should just accept that we're already doomed:

"Hurry up and finish your ice cream, kids, so we can go to the cupcake store!"

6.03.2008

Let's Go Get Stoned

Let's Go Get Stoned, Ray Charles

Can someone please explain to me why it's perfectly legal to operate 1000lbs of machinery at 70 miles per hour down the expressway, high off cold medicine that makes you feel like adrenaline is coursing through your veins at lightning speed while simultaneously having an out-of-body experience, but I can't buy a bag of marijuana without being arrested?

Shit's fucked. But then, we already knew that.

5.15.2008

Dialing For Dollars Is Trying to Find Me

Mercedes Benz, Janis Joplin

Before I get into whatever this blog is really about...

Q. Why would you buy a Lexus, (a.k.a. a pricey Toyota), when you could buy a Mercedes Benz (a.k.a. a perfectly awesome piece of German machinery)?

A. Because you're a schmuck.

Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to something relatable, because I sure as shit can't afford either of those vehicles and neither can you.

Our economic stimulus checks arrived just in time to pay for an unexpected, astronomical vet bill. (Just doin' ma part to keep 'Merica goin'!) Zoe went downhill over the weekend. She had a reaction to what was probably "degranulation of the tumor" and swelled up like a balloon. The vet informed us the situation was life-threatening and she needed to be hospitalized. It was quite upsetting. She has since been released. The swelling is slowly going down and more meds are being given. We're in wait-and-see mode, though so far the prognosis seems manageable.

I realize my pets are elderly and will die soon. I accept this, because this is what is. Life and death go hand-in-hand. And aside from the fact I don't believe death is the end but merely a change, and that everything is everything, I think to resist acceptance of this reality is not only a disservice to yourself, it's a renunciation of all the other wonderful things we take from living.

I know, one minute I'm dropping the F-bomb and the next I'm spouting off Eastern philosophies. But this is my reality, and I'm not tailoring it so it fits more comfortably for you. And I should hope you do the same.

What I worry about more is being put in a position where the choices I have to make with my pets are less clear. Either let the dog suffer miserably, or put the dog to sleep. Either spend your life savings or let your dog die. These are tough problems but with relatively clear answers. But what do you do when the choice is to spend a chunk of money that you can afford and the prognosis is undetermined, not necessarily life-threatening?

I don't have an answer. I just try to make choices that allow me to sleep at night.

******

On a much happier note, we've been invited to a soiree this evening that includes free food and free beer from my second favorite brewing company. Since B's hours have increased at work, I've been spending many an afternoon here, waiting for my carpool. It's like I'm becoming a regular, which I haven't been anywhere since college, because I haven't lived close enough for any one place to be my regular watering hole. It's oddly comforting.

5.06.2008

Insert Dead Flowers Quote Here

An update on The Red Devil: We met with the specialty vet, who was very encouraging, and Zoe is now scheduled for surgery next week. In the meantime, my dog and I are on the same acid reflux medication, and she's also taking enough benedryl that I feel sleepy just giving it to her. While we were waiting for the vet, I suddenly became acutely aware of how badly in need of a bath she is. Luckily for us, Red loves baths. Anything that involves touching and attention makes her uberly happy. How can you not love this creature? Quit fighting it. You won't win.

Seems like everyone around me, myself included, is still recovering from Derby weekend. We played a show Thursday night and didn't get home until after 3 a.m. Friday was a half-day at work, because in these parts, Derby is a holiday. Though not such a big holiday that they'd actually give us the entire day off, even though half the staff didn't even come in and the rest of us sat around for 3 hours doing absolutely nothing. Once again, I'd like to thank the company for allowing me to waste time and gas so as to keep the holiday pay quota to a min. Because I'm here for YOU. Friday my little girl cousin and her fiance (christ, I can't believe she's even old enough to get married legally) drove up from Indianapolis to visit and go to the infield for Derby. "Do you want to go to the infield?" No. No, I don't. We had a delicious dinner of pizza and beer at my favorite place and headed out for an evening of rock and roll. The youngins skee-daddled home before the end of the show, and us old fogies stayed out till nearly the break of dawn. I realized why it was that I never went out for Derby Eve in years past; all the shit-faced assholes. I nearly got into fisticuffs with a drunkard at the show who couldn't keep his hands off my lady friends. The ogling and the rude comments I can handle. The touching? Not so much. I confess I get a tad cranky in these kinds of situations. There's a lot of neck thrusting and dropping of the F-bomb. But the guy did leave us alone afterwards.

We stayed out so late, I was almost too tired to get in the car and drive home. One of my friends waited outside for a cab for 30 minutes, and when it finally showed up, this girl opens the door. My friend says, "Um, excuse me, but I think that's my cab." The girl retorts, "No, this is my cab," and climbs in the backseat, cigarette and beer in hand. Being the stand-up gal that I am, I couldn't very well make my friend wait for another one on a night as crazy as this, so I gave her a lift. It was in the opposite direction from where B & I were headed, and coupled with the torrential downpour, it made for a lengthy drive. We slept for a few hours, then I got up to help my cousin gather supplies for her day in the fiery pit of hell (otherwise known as the infield of the Kentucky Derby), then it was off to bed till about 4pm. We forced ourselves awake to watch some of the races, including THE race, made a valiant effort to get dressed and ready to go out again, then promptly changed our minds, got back in bed and rented movies off the tv. Home in bed, my favorite place.

In other news, some friends are getting married this weekend and I'm very much looking forward to their wedding. I love weddings. In large part, this is a projection of my own feelings about being in love and happy and wanting everyone I know to find someone who makes them feel all the good things I feel. What's more wonderful than watching two people who truly care for each other pledge their undying love and commitment? Plus, there's the added bonus of getting to wear a super cute dress that I've only been able to wear once and for which I have the perfect shoes to match. However, if for some reason, (say, all the junk food I ate on tour and the complete lack of exercise I've had) I can't fit into the dress, I will likely have a very different take on the day. Maybe I shouldn't have drank 3 pints of beer and had that 300-calorie, 20-grams-of-fat nutty bar from the vending machine yesterday. Mmmm...beer and nutty bars.

4.27.2008

Your Name Is Big Brother

More trials and tribulations of pet ownership. Off and on over the last year, we occasionally have to take our red dog to the vet to have some lumps inspected. She has been cancer-free for about two years or so, but she's a lumpy girl, and I don't have the qualifications to determine fatty cysts vs. mast cell tumors. Shortly after we got home from tour, I noticed a new lump on her side. Over the past two weeks, we've been to the vet's office three times; once to inspect the lump, once for testing and finally, for surgery. Hours after I jogged along side Zoe as she sprinted gleefully into the vets office, we get a call saying surgery must be postponed, because of some swelling and bruising they discovered after they shaved the area in preparation. Monday morning she must go back for more tests and then Wednesday we'll go to the specialty vet to consult with her on the next step.

It's a lot of running around during work hours, and even more so because of how far we live from...well, everything. Luckily, B's work is very easy going, as they have to be, considering how frequently they hire and lay off people. I mean, there's gotta be some perk for working in an environment void of stability. Last week 21 people were laid off. Same time of year I was laid off from the same company four years ago. (There have been plenty more hirings and firings in between as well.) The Fridays that were cut from B's schedule have now been returned. Seems they're short on help.

My work is trickier. They like to think they're understanding, but in reality, it's much more complex. Or perhaps a better term would be "passive aggressive." Even though I spent three-quarters of last week with NOTHING to do, it was necessary to stop me on my way out to pick up my dog so that I could send an email to both my boss (who knew I was leaving and why) and HR to let them know I was leaving work two hours early. Even though those people sit ten feet apart and could practically whisper to each other, and even though work was extremely slow, we mustn't miss an opportunity to document how we did you this favor in case we need to hold it against you later.

4.15.2008

Where My Thoughts Escape

Home, sweet home! Sleeping in my bed and using my own shower never felt so good. It was a fantastic ten-day break from reality, long enough to surrender myself completely to life on the road, but not so long that I forgot how wonderful it feels to be back in familiar surroundings. Our last show was a doozie. We played with 3 awesome acts to the largest crowd we'd had all week, won over some people and even sold several copies of our new record. Giddy from the successful night, we stayed up with our new friends and hosts till about 4:30 am, when it finally dawned on me that we had to leave by 8am in order to make the 14 hour drive home by a reasonable hour. I quickly corralled us into bed, set my cell phone alarm for 7:45am and slept in the clothes I played in.

Our hosts were three gay men. I heard someone joke that staying with a gay couple is definitely the way to go on tour, because they're house will be clean and they'll have cable. Joking aside, after having spent the majority of last nine days sleeping on the floors of friends and strangers, I have to say these men were by far some of the better hosts. In addition to offering us 2 extra beds to stay in and cooking up a couple pizzas for all of us after the show, they insisted on programming their coffee maker for our early departure, offered us clean towels and washcloths (you have no idea how much this is appreciated) and even put together a care package of fruit, scones and bagels for us to take. We barely know these people, and this is the kindness they offered us. Ironically, this is exactly the sort of kindness a certain prophet, whose name millions of followers use for the denunciation of homosexuality, would have done for strangers himself. Good thing we're excluding the gays from equal rights; I'd really hate for that kind of icky good will to seep its way in and poison our ever-altruistic society. But I digress.

Our 14-hour drive turned into a 16-hour drive with all the stops for food, gas and bathrooms, and we arrived back in the Bluegrass around midnight. After unloading and dropping off the mates, B & I walked through the door of our little house around 1 am. I dropped to the floor and all the pets surrounded us in greeting. Gina went straight for her favorite toy, a once-squeaky barbell, and began pushing it against me repeatedly, while Zoe jumped on me and began half licking, half nibbling my face. Once we got in bed, Lewis, one of our three cats, decided he needed to re-establish his position as "Top Cat" by chasing this brothers away and returning to nestle between us with a smug look on his face. Oh, it's good to be loved. And so good to be home.

4.08.2008

Living Just Enough For The City

Day five: a night off.

Crashing at the Ho Jo's tonight. A pricier choice than some, but considering the size of these boys, they're more liable to spoon themselves to sleep in a double, and this place offers two queens. The Lancaster Brewery is just next door, beckoning us from the moment we arrived. After showers, a nap and a little email, we dined on decent Italian food at La Piazza. The servings were so huge, 3 out of 4 of us had leftovers to go. There's a fridge and a microwave in the hotel room, but the restaurant offered foil pans and styrafoam, neither of which are microwaveable, so I had to, um, borrow a couple appetizer plates from them. But I fully intend to bring them back, I swear, I just don't want to burn down our room at the Ho Jo's while we're visiting the state capital of Pennsylvania. (Seems like Philly may have gotten the short end of the stick here, as it is Harrisburg, not the former capital of the new nation, that is the state's capital. WTF?)

Last night we played Pittsburgh with another band from our town and a local, both good, though unfortunately, we were practically our only audience. Still, we had a great time and a lot to drink, and managed to deliver an enthusiastic performance, albeit a sloppy one at times. Afterwards, we crashed with a friend of a friend whom we'd never met but was generous enough to offer two rooms with a bed and a futon. We've had to rely on the hospitality of others often this trip, and it's doing quite a bit to improve faith in my fellow man and woman. We've seen many good friends the past few days, made some new ones, and even got to see a some of my family.

Tonight is busy at the Ho Jo's, and the highway sounds outside the glass door to our balcony. The fellas have gone to the brewery, while I have elected not to spend yet another night hanging out in a bar. The restaurant was BYOB, and since I chose to stay in, I've co-opted the two beers we didn't drink with dinner. I sorted and repacked my suitcase while I watched the History channel in my jammies. I'm not that prissy, but I'm also not ashamed to tell you how good it feels to sleep in a clean, quiet place and have a bit of time to yourself. In another city...in another state..away from the dull reality of the day-to-day. We have five days left of the trip and already I'm feeling nostalgic to tour again. The thought of going back to work is so far from my mind. I could get used to this life on the road. As much as I love being home and having my own space, there's something very primal about the urge to keep moving. And that boy I love is here. What's better than that?

Tomorrow it's off to the Jersey beach for a show and then to NYC for a couple days. Looking forward to hanging in the city and seeing old friends.

4.04.2008

Then As It Was, Then Again It Will Be

"...An' though the course may change sometimes/Rivers always reach the sea"
Ten Years Gone, Led Zeppelin


It must be the time of year, but lately my head is flooded with memories of days passed. The newness of spring inspires me to take inventory and make changes. I've been thinking a lot about the things I complain about, wondering what's at the root of my dissatisfaction. It's a restlessness probably typical of the change in seasons, but no less valid. I'm experiencing nostalgia for old friends, places I used to live – but at the same time, having no desire to go back. The future holds too much allure for me, and the present demands my attention. I've been thinking a lot about the people I'm surrounded by and how naturally their energy affects my state of mind. I wonder what message my own energy sends. Yesterday a guy in a giant Hummer (boy, isn't that redundant) jumped lanes and nearly side-swiped my little VW. Without thinking twice, I simultaneously laid into the horn and gave the Italian salute, while offering him a few choice expletives. Not that it wasn't a dickhead move, and clearly it takes a certain type of personality to drive such a monstrosity with flagrant disregard for it's environmental and economic consequences, but I'm thinking this is not what Krishna had in mind when he was guiding Arjuna into battle.

And then, if I broaden the scope, I think about how across the ocean, on an entirely separate continent, there are millions of people coping with rampant infections of the AIDS virus and mass genocide, while I'm driving around in my $20k import on the way home from my job to a house with a yard and clean water, angrily flipping the bird to my fellow man. It's ridiculous. And it's a conundrum, really, because we can't change our American reality. Well, we can, but not all at once, and only with some cooperation. My dad is famous in our family for his deadpan response to hearing the craziest of situations and responding with a shake of his head and the reminder, "Everybody's got problems."

I can't fix everything I'd like to, but I can control the role I play and the energy I give off and the people who surround me. So that's what I'm thinking about.

In a few hours I'll be staring at miles of highway, searching the grey concrete for incite. I'll let you know if I come up with any.

3.26.2008

Hit the Road, Jack

Ohmygodi'mleavingfortourin7days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Commence freakout.

Funny, I started writing this blog 2 days ago, and I just can't seem to finish. Anyway.

Let's not even discuss the amount of time I don't have to get everything done. Or the money I don't have to pay for the things I need to get. Instead, let's discuss some of my favorite essentials to bring on a road trip:

• Aveda chapstick - At $8 a pop, this is some pricey stuff. But it works better than any other lip balm I've tried, including it's $15 counterpart, the Aveda Lip Replinisher.

• Thayers Slippery Elm Lozenges - I'm digging the tangerine flavor. Keeps the throat lubricated and has vitamin C.

• Traditional Medicines Throat Coat Tea - So far, the best thing I've found for a sore or dry throat. Yogi's Throat Comfort is a close second.

• Pen and paper - There's nothing like a road trip to inspire some creative writing. I also like to make a lot of lists. Things I see that interest me, words I want to study, things I want to do when I get home, etc.

• Hoodie - Because it can get cold out there. And because sometimes you just want to burrow and hide when you're trapped in close quarters with others for too long.

• Water - And lots of it. Funny how sitting in a car doing nothing can still dehydrate you.

• Kashi granola bars - They're delicious, filling and free of high fructose corn syrup.

• Eye drops - Staring at the road too long turns my contacts crispy.

• Kleenex - Without a doubt, I always need them.

• Petroniekins Hangover Remedy - Because inevitably, there will booze and rough mornings to follow:
* B Vitamins - this is what most of those hangover remedies on the market have in them anyway, but personally, I'm a little freaked out by the amount of caffeine and sugar accompanied by them. Take it before bed & again the next day for best results.
* 7-up - Because Sprite sucks. Sorry, it just does.
* Ranitidine - I have acid reflux problems anyway, but this is just the ticket when our tummies are feeling a little queasy. Generic ranitidine works for me, but you might find the other generic antacid drug, famotidine, (see active ingredients on things like Pepcid Complete) works better for you. Again, for best results take before bedtime. It takes a little time to kick in.
* Gatorade - Make a pitstop at the Hydration Station. You'll feel better.
* Ibuprofen - Last, but not least. Again, if you can remember it, before bedtime is best.

******

I'm a creature of comfort. The way I see it, if you're comfortable, you'll deal better. And ain't there always something to deal with.

3.24.2008

Girls' Room

Dear Whoever Keeps Peeing On the God Damn Seat In The Girls Bathroom,

Seriously? You couldn't have just wiped that up? Or sat on the toilet that's probably cleaned more than your own bathroom?

3.17.2008

It's Raining, It's Pouring

It's raining to beat the band out there, as my mother would say. Or is it "ban?" I don't know. The woman has more expressions than I can count. Really. I've been writing them down for the last 15 years or so, because they're hilarious and odd and I rarely hear anyone but her use most of them. One of my favorites is, "from hell to breakfast." As in, "If I'd have said that, my daddy would've kicked my ass from hell to breakfast." Seriously, this is just how she talks. I love it.

Anyway, I know you're just dying to hear more about my animals defecation habits, so let's get that out of the way. We spoke with our vet, and evidently, some dogs just "can't handle the fiber" in this new dog food. There's an understatement if I ever heard one. The solution? Keep Zoe on the new food and put Gina back on the old. As if we didn't have enough daily pet processes to work through. Some day, in my dreams, I will have a home with *decent* (I'm not even asking for nice here) furniture and floors that have not been destroyed by four-legged creatures.

Oh, who am I kidding? Once these critters are gone, I'll probably get suckered into more.

******

Is it just me, or is St. Patrick's Day one of the dumbest holidays ever? Who'd have thought so many people would take pride in a celebration of one's heritage that often seems only to amount to a glorified abuse of alcohol and the color green? I'm not knocking anybody here. I'm sure I've got some Irish blood, just like half of America. I just wonder why more people don't find it mildly offensive that centuries worth of an entire culture have been boiled down into leprechauns and green beer. It's kind of like how Italians are always represented as one giant crime family of gun-toting, drug-dealing henchmen. Maybe it'd be easier to take if we made a hallmark holiday out of it, with lots of red wine (you know, red for all the blood we shed) and cutesy little organza bags with grams of cocaine in them. Just a minute while I get the Vatican on the phone...

******

So yeah, you won't find me throwing down on St. Patty's Day, but I'll recount a tale a friend of mine told me from the weekend's celebrations. She was walking down a heavily-populated bar area Saturday night, when she saw a young girl with a bachelorette sash across her chest run drunkenly out into the middle of the street and get struck by a Lexus. She heard a scream and then a loud thud, and the girl was almost struck a second time by a car going in the opposite direction. The girl got up and walked away. Everyone clapped. The man in the Lexus asked who was gonna pay for the dent in his car.

The girl was seen again later in the night at a nearby bar. While I'm sure your inebriated stamina is applaudable, that had to be one hell of a hangover the next day.

3.13.2008

You're In the Jungle, Baby!

Yesterday, I was looking at this website and a co-worker saw what I was looking at and exclaimed, "That's dumb!"

Silly, yes. Over the top? Maybe. But dumb?

What's dumb about website dedicated to posting hilarious and adorable photos and video of animals? Have you been on the internet lately? Do we really need to talk about the myriad of sites available and the ridiculous topics to which they are devoted? I think you're dumb.

I've given it some thought, and I think at the ripe age of 31, I've made an important self-discovery: If you do not like animals, we can not be friends. Something is fundamentally wrong (dare I say evil?) with harboring a general disdain for other living things. Perhaps you prefer not to have pets or spend time with animals. Fine. I think you're a little nutty, but hey, I respect your personal preference. The keyword is "respect." Lest we forget we're merely animals ourselves.

*******

Now that I've made my epiphanic declaration, let's discuss the downsides of pet ownership.

No sooner had we finished cleaning up bloody pee for a week straight, then my other dog began pooping ALL OVER THE HOUSE on a near daily basis. The reason I know it is my beloved German shepherd, Gina, is because she has the unique habit of walking while she poops, as though she's leaving a trail of breadcrumbs through the forest, only the forest is my yard and driveway (our mailman undoubtedly hates us), and now my home. Unlike Zoe, who squats still, like a normal dog. I come home each night to find a trail of turds leading from the couch in the living room through the kitchen and into our bedroom. Recently, she's begun urinating in the house as well. I don't know if this is because their food was switched during the whole UTI fiasco, if it's simply old age or if this is an effect from the prednisone, but I intend to call our vet and ask what the fuck.

Meanwhile, as we're cleaning up feces and opening windows (hey, wanna come over?), the felines are stepping gingerly around turds the size of their heads, seating themselves on a nearby perch so they can stare and occasionally blink disgustedly at us, as if they've never seen such filth.

As if to ask, "Surely you don't expect us to cover this up?"

******

3.10.2008

What Do I Care If Icicles Fall?

I finally had my review last week. I received excellent marks – as if I expected anything else, right? This is the first time I've had a review that involved meeting with four people, and it was a little nerve racking. What's worse is, after we went over my "scores," my direct supervisor had to leave the room so the other 3 people could interrogate me on her performance as a manager. What am I going to say here, folks? The only response was the one in keeping with my new "No Drama" work policy. "She's doing an excellent job!"

I've experienced my fair share of office drama, and frankly, I'm over it. It can be hard to rise above it, because you spend a good chunk of your life at work. Even the most skillfully detached may find it hard not to take a sense of pride or responsibility in what they do, and therefore may find the blatant disregard for their hard work and sacrifice frustrating. You may even feel justified in speaking out against injustices perpetrated. I support you; leaders of the movement, advocates of change, proponents of equality. I just don't have the energy for it these days. The cons have drastically outweighed the pros of speaking out in my last few work places. My chances of winning the battle within the corporate environment are slim, and at best, my candor only serves as a temporary release of my frustration. Sure, there have been a few time where I spoke my mind, and regardless of the outcome, I felt pride in not being a doormat or standing up to a bully. But in my experience, the conflict and/or the job just hasn't been worth the trouble.

******

State of Emergency!

It snowed about a foot this past weekend. We were officially under a state of emergency, which in our family means a "State of Emergency Party." I love nothing more than being trapped in my house with my loved one and litter of fuzzy creatures, complete with a bottle of bourbon, good food and movies, during inclement weather. Seriously, it's like one of my favorite things on earth. Something about having a legitimate excuse to hole up and not go anywhere. "Sorry. Trapped. Can't leave." If I come into a lot of money someday, I'll be spending my winters in a cabin in Maine, so that I may experience a 3-month long State of Emergency Party. I'm telling you, it does wonders for one's creativity.

3.03.2008

Following a brief shot of Princes William and Harry on the news the other morning:

Me: Prince William is hot.

B: You think he's hot?

Me: Uh, yeah.

B: Well, I'm sorry I'm not a prince, who's all rich and debonair, who showers every day!

3.01.2008

Easy Like Sunday Morning (except it's Saturday)

Playing a rock show is not a bad way to end a very stressful week. All of us had a rough week one way or another. (Our bassist found out all their pets have worms! Yuck.) It felt like we combusted under the pressure with sweet release. We had a special guest play with us last night, my cousin C., who sings like an angel and plays violin to match. She brings a new energy and makes everything sound much fuller. If only we could have her all the time.

Today is a well-deserved lazy day, with our greatest accomplishment so far being the shower I took and the clean sheets we put on our bed. The sun's shining, and I considered opening the windows, but I think it may be a little premature. Winter is not done with us yet, though it is nice to see the sun again. The dogs have spent most of the day outside, lying in the grass like cows in a field...except for when the neighborhood kids come by on their skateboards and they take off sprinting to follow them the length of the fence, barking like crazy. The cats are taking turns lying in the sunlight coming through the living room windows and sleeping their cat bed in our darkened studio. They may even inspire me to nap.

2.29.2008

Let It Bleed And Bleed (Pt. II)



How much red can a red dog red if a red dog keeps peeing red?

Zoe is showing signs of improvement, but not as much as I would like. Fortunately, she doesn't seem to be in much pain. It's getting a bit tiresome cleaning up bloody urine and washing dog towels all the time. Even when we're home, she doesn't always let us know she needs to go outside. I think she just can't control herself. And meanwhile Gina looks scared every time we come home and there is pee on the floor. The cats seem to have picked up on her illness because they stand very close to her, sniffing and looking concerned. It's a bit stressful at our home. B has the day off, so I'm taking comfort in the knowledge that everyone is getting a lot of love and attention today.

2.27.2008

Let It Bleed. And Bleed. And Bleed.

Yesterday was filled with stress. The kind where it feels like an elephant is sitting on you. Even when you're able to hold the moment at arms length, examine it, reason with it, and you know it's going to be ok regardless. But the shit just keeps coming, like you slipped on the one turd holding it all in place. Aside from the time I spent with my lady friends after hours, I'd have just canceled yesterday all together. ("Everyone go home. Today's been canceled. It's much to shitty.")

My dog has a urinary tract infection. In case you haven't experienced this before, let me give you a little head's up: pints of coagulated blood-laced urine are perfectly normal.

I came home from rehearsal Monday to discover what looked like the scene of a crime, and by the look on my German shepherd's face, you'd have thought she committed one. I suspected it may have been a UTI, which is the only reason I didn't completely freak. I assumed it was my shepherd, because she's been on steroids for arthritis in her hip. Prednisone makes dogs (and humans) very thirsty, they drink a lot, and they have to pee more frequently. I thought maybe the medicine was causing her organs to failure. We thought, this is it. I examined her and thought I saw remnants of dark pee. Regrettably, I did not examine my red dog. Long story short and $200 later, we discover the wrong dog has been taken to the vet and subsequently had to endure a stressful experience, while the sick dog was at home, trying to push pee out so hard that we later discovered may have caused what looks like a broken blood vessel in her eye.

Yuck. Ow. Sweet Jesus.

So we've been cleaning up bloody pee and running load after load of laundry, waking up at all hours of the night, cleaning up more bloody pee and letting the dog out and in and out and in for the last three days.

The good news is, Zoe has only taken 2 rounds of antibiotics and she's already showing major improvement. She even did the crazy mad dash in the house when I called her in this morning, tail wagging. And there was a lot less pee to clean up tonight too. I am truly relieved.

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My review has been rescheduled. Will any potential raise be retroactive to the year anniversary of my start date, nearly two months ago? Outcome unlikely.

*******

Spring is just around the corner, Friends. Winter hasn't bled all my hopes dry. Good things are on the horizon, even if it feels a bit tight at the moment.

2.26.2008

Now You're Messing With

An angry bitch! Remember the review I prepared for a week early? It was rescheduled. For today. At 2pm. At 1:59, I was informed that one of the FOUR people who is supposed to participate called in sick and we will now reschedule for a third time. Evidently this information couldn't have been relayed to me in a timely fashion, say at the beginning of the day when they first found out. Normally I would take this in stride and not be boiling over with the fury of 1000 Hells Angels, as I am right now, if it weren't for the fact that I completely abandoned my husband today to deal with an emergency pet situation. One that involved blood and a healthy dose of fear and transporting our beloved creature back and forth to the vet's office, a good 25 minutes from our home. Causing him to be out a half day's work, when his hours have already cut. The pet situation is under control, however my temper could use a little work.

2.15.2008

What's Going On

I shouldn't be allowed to watch or read the news before I'm fully awake. I'm much too sensitive for this kind of thing even at my best moments. I should give myself plenty of time to slip on that thick layer of skin before I face the world and it's saturated news market capitalizing on the misfortune of others and sensationalizing the minutest of details.

There was another random shooting at a college yesterday. All I have to say about that is: What the f#ck people?! Get a hold of yourselves! And then a twenty second blurb about how a satellite we put in space may come crashing to the earth. But rest assured, NASA's got everything under control. They're just going to fire a couple missiles at it to break it up into smaller pieces first.

So if you're out for a stroll and you happen to see a piece of metal fall from the sky, chances are the pieces weren't small enough to disintegrate upon entering our atmosphere, and you might want to get out of the way.

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After all this good news, I caught a few minutes of the Curious George cartoon. I'd like to end with an actual quote from this episode:

"George and Jumpy played nut hockey till the sun went down."

Um...

2.13.2008

The Mess Around

I took my sweet time getting up this morning, lounging around, drinking coffee, slowing waking to the world. I knew we'd be late, but the roads were slick and there were flannel sheets on my bed. Finally I dressed and was just about to walk out the door, when I realized I have my first annual review at work today. It was too late to turn back on that shower I swore off for the second day in a row, but I scrounged up some better looking clothes (translation: jeans without holes, a decent shirt tossed in the dryer for a few minutes to get out most of the wrinkles) and tied my hair in a knot. I put in my contacts and applied make-up in the car while B. drove us into the city.

Now I'm at work and I've just realized:
a) I forgot to brush my teeth
b) there are stains (coffee?) on my jeans


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I ran errands on my lunch break that took a bit more time than I expected, turning my hour long lunch into an hour-and-a-half long lunch. I race-walked the 4 blocks back to the office, threw down my coat and bag and headed to the bathroom to tidy up before my review. Then I came back to my desk to double check the time for our meeting.

It's for next Wednesday.

2.12.2008

Do Right Woman

This morning, as I was staring disapprovingly at the flesh bulging out from my jeans, lamenting the exercise I desperately need, if for no other reason than to simply keep my bones from melding together, I had the nerve to wonder how this happened.

Later when I got to work, there was a giant cookie cake sitting in front of the coffee maker. Before I could register what I was doing, I squealed, "Sweet! Cookie cake!" and gobbled down a piece.

Oh. That's how that happened.

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They brought in Kentucky Hot Brown for lunch, along with broccoli soup so thick it could double as cheese dip. God help me.

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Ok, I had some of the soup, but I passed on the hot brown. Get off my back already.

2.04.2008

A Fine Romance

Indeed. B & I rented a little cabin in the County o' Brown this past weekend, otherwise known as the "We Don't Have A Baby...Hooray!" weekend extravaganza. But in fact, we have 5 fuzzy ones, two of whom we brought on our trip. Next time, we'll think better of that. Aside from the fact that this is the first trip we've taken in three and a half years, since our honeymoon, for no other reason than to just "spend time together," we've spent the last couple months looking forward to this trip for mainly two reasons: fireplace and hot tub.

We arrived at the cabin to find the driveway, which was curvy and steep, completely iced over. Unable to drive the car to the top, we were forced to unload two elderly, arthritic dogs and all of our weekend belongings at the base of the hill. Six periling trips up and down the driveway of Mount Everest later, as I'm balancing delicately on the ice to extract the last few items from my vehicle, a big truck with a plow pulls in and a young man jumps out. "They told me to come down here and bust up your ice a bit so you could get up the drive." Don't bother, I tell him. We're finished.

Once inside, we unpack and settle in for our weekend of frivolity. We made a delicious dinner of filet mignon, broiled to perfection, spinach salad and baked potato. Nearly comatose from food, we decide this would be an excellent time for a dip in the hot tub. This is, after all, one of the main reasons we're here. Excitedly, we rip off our clothes, dig up our robes and race outside, tearing the lid off the hot tub.

The water was tepid. After searching frantically for a temperature dial, hopping from one foot to the other in hopes we don't freeze to the deck, we gave up for the night and decided to call the realty office in the morning. We weren't fit for public consumption at that point in the evening anyway.

The next morning, a maintenance man was sent to reset our hot tub and drop off a space heater, since the wall heater in the bathroom didn't work, and given that it's separated from the rest of the cabin by a closed door and another room, it was a balmy 20 degrees in there.

Fine, minor interruptions, but we carry on in good spirits.

Then, at approximately 4:30 in the afternoon, B looks out the window just in time to see a young couple walk up to the front door of our cabin and knock. If they would have been just 3 minutes earlier, this would have been quite a bit more embarrassing than it already was. Apparently, they stayed there recently and left behind their little hand-held gaming device. (Who the hell brings video games to a CABIN in the WOODS?!) They said the realty office told them there were "just cleaning people" here and they could come by to look for it. B, a bit flustered, let's them in and they're all apologies and smiles as they root through our piles of blankets and pillows strewn about. They chatter on nervously about their trip to the cabin, ("Yeah, we were just chilling on the couches when we lost it," the guy offers. "We got engaged here," the girl bubbles.) as I stand there looking, I'm sure, a bit stunned and wondering if they're going to pull out a pair of my panties from the crevices of the couch. What I wanted to say to her was, "Yeah? Well we are married. And let me tell you what happens when married people finally get what's supposed to be a private weekend to themselves..."

Instead, feeling self-conscious in B's over-sized fleece vest I'd thrown on over the skimpy sheer white tank I was wearing–braless, because that's how we married folks do it–I retreated to the second floor. Once they were gone, we just sort of stared at each other in astonished silence for a few seconds. I chose that time to call the property manager and inform her that our hot tub was still not hot and oh, by the way, total strangers just showed up at our secluded doorstep on her office's suggestion that they just drop by to look for their belongings. For this, we received merely the reassurance that our hot tub would be heated appropriately in time for use this evening and surely these people showed up on their own accord, because "no one from our office would say that." At least she seemed almost as irritated as I was about the unexpected intrusion, though a little compensation off our bill would have really sent home her tone of concern.

All this aside, we had a lovely time. Instead of sticking around the area for a little site-seeing or dilly-dallying, we drove straight home, in record time. We were surprisingly, absurdly happy to be back in our cozy, cluttered home.

1.28.2008

Just got home from a little 3-day tour Sunday. I ate poorly, drank too much, slept little and had more fun than should be legal. And some of it probably wasn't. We played some great shows, made a superfan, met some fantastic people, connected with friends and even got to drink some genuine Appalachian moonshine. (It's better than you'd think, but could still probably fuel your gas tank.) It was a much needed vacation from the ordinary, and my faith in humanity has been restored. It's always hard to come back after all the fun.

Sunday, we woke up an hour past our hotel's check out time. MC was outside smoking when a member of housekeeping asked rather snootily if we had, in fact, requested a late check out. Had I been outside smoking, here's what I would have said:

"First of all, you're very rude. Secondly, I've got 6 people drunk off moonshine in there. You think I'm just gonna shake them into consciousness?"

We had to haul our gear up 3 flights of stairs and only one person was able to take a shower because the water would not drain. That was 70 dollars well spent! But what they lacked in service they made up for in food at the diner attached to the hotel. And they had THREE plasma tv screens that only showed cakes. Big cakes, of a various assortment, and lots of them. I think they call that the Stoner channel.

Speaking of fun tv channels, did you ever listen to the This American Life episode about the guy who wanted to start a channel that showed only puppies? The Puppy Channel! And studies show people are actually interested in watching puppies on tv, but they were unable to find proper funding. If you are wealthy philanthropist, I urge you to locate this man and give him your money. You won't regret it. In fact, I have a plan to bring peace to the Middle East. It involves hours of footage from the Puppy Channel and a large projector. Who wants to blow shit up when there are sweet lil' puppies around? I can see the commercial now: Me, in the desert, surrounded by puppies clumsily falling all over each other, holding one up to my tear-stained cheek, my makeup streaked, crying, "If you could just donate an inkling of your love to a puppy in need, countless lives could be saved!"

Just an idea. I'm full of 'em.

1.16.2008

I Got Your Number

Office musings:

1. That impatient, vaguely annoyed attitude coming off you like stink? Won't get your jobs done any faster. But a little sugar could make a world of difference. Or at least an extra 15 minutes, give or take.

2. Look, I realize you're new, and before you, there weren't a whole lot of twenty-something men with reasonably good physiques and a big helping of self-confidence running around here, but when we're talking and you eyes keep drifting to my chest? Yeah, I totally notice. Not fooling anyone.

3. Just because we're coworkers, doesn't mean we're friends. Nothing personal, but outside these four walls, in my real life? I try to avoid bringing megalomaniacal, egocentric people into my fold.

1.08.2008

Gettin' Hot In Hur

Only a mere two-and-a-half weeks ago, the Winter Solstice marked the beginning of winter in the Northern Hemisphere. In Kentuckiana*, winter means temperatures around the 30's, with the occasional rain, snow and ice. Today, January 8, it is 70 degrees outside. My husband keeps commenting on how nice the weather is. But I'm wondering how high I'll have to climb to safety when the polar ice caps melt.

*Kentuckiana, so far as I can tell, is how the locals refer to the area surrounding the border of Kentucky and Indiana. Does this happen everywhere? Because I don't hear people calling the area around Illinois and Indiana "Illiana," though that may because Gary smells like it may be solely responsible for the hole in our atmosphere. Hmm, on second thought, that'd make a great name for that area. Or what about Kentucky-O, where Ohio and Kentucky meet? That'd make a great name for a cereal. I imagine it would be a delicate balance of snooty whole grain and enough sugar to put a small mammal in a coma.
The word, "Kentuckiana," is not listed in Merriam-Webster, proving once again that we're all just making it up as we go along and attributing meaning as we see fit. Think about that the next time someone is offended by your bad language. Fuckity fuck fuck fuckity fuck. See? Just words. Didn't hurt a damn thing.

1.02.2008

It's a New Day

I spent 2 full days last weekend tearing apart, cleaning and organizing my office/studio space. It's amazing how much shit piles up, particularly in the form of paper, over the course of a year while you are traveling, working and generally avoiding the little things that need to be done. (Because in my world, a clean house is low on the priority list. Don't like dog hair on your clothes? Don't sit on my furniture.) It feels so good to have a clean and organized workspace, though I didn't touch a single other room in my home. I find it difficult to get in my organizational super-cleaning mode, and unfortunately my momentum was impeded when I had to come into work on New Year's Eve for a half day, only to be given about an hour's worth of actual "work." Thanks for interrupting progress in my real life so that I could help limit your quota for buisness holidays. Because I'm here for YOU.

In the afternoon, we had a fun rehearsal/recording session, after which B & I found ourselves free from any New Year's Eve obligations. I was so excited about not having anything to do, I can't begin to tell you. Funny, because not so long ago I would have been geared up for a night of partying. Instead, we had ourselves a private pajama party. And you were not invited.

All of my New Year's Day dreams came true; I spent the entire day, in my pajamas, with my husband and fuzzy babies. Call me a simpleton, but I can't think of a better way to spend my time.

Hope you had a fantastic holiday and that all of your New Year's dreams came true.