It's Ok, Pull Me Under All the Way

"Muscle Cars"

Wussy

RIP

Tommy

Lewis

Gina & Zoe

And then there was one...

It's a surreal feeling explaining to others how I lost 4 out of 5 pets within a four-month time frame.

Lewis had kidney disease, a common problem among cats. Tommy had heart disease, also common among cats. They're from the same litter, and they were only 10, which isn't that old when you consider that many cats live to be 15-18 years old, sometimes older. But there's only so much you can do about these things, and believe me, we tried.

Gina developed degenerative myelopathy, a disease common among German Shepherds that eventually renders the dog paralyzed. For a dog as proud as Gina, not being able to get around on her own is pretty bad. Zoe reached a point where she had trouble getting around, but I think she rather liked being hauled around on her bed like the little fairy princess she was.

Zoe was a cancer survivor - she lived almost four years past the point of when we discovered her first mast cell tumor. The fact that she made it as long as she did is a testament to how strong-willed she was.

I learned a lot about pets and death this year. I'd been preparing myself for a few years, and I had a lot of anxiety about having to euthanize my pets. As a kid, my parents took responsibility for this unpleasant reality, and this was the first time in my adult life I'd had to handle something like this on my own. I think the most important thing I realized is how peaceful it actually is. It wasn't awful and gory, the way I feared it would be. It was serene and comforting. With the exception of Tommy, B & I were with each pet in their last moments, stroking them and talking to them, letting them know it was ok to let go. Unfortunately, Tommy fell ill while we were on tour in October, just a couple days after we to put Zoe down. My brother, who was Tommy's original guardian before he came to live with his litter mates and us, and my mother had to take him to the pet ER and eventually have him put down. If I couldn't be there with my pet, I'm glad it was two people who I trust implicitly to do right by my critters.

***sigh***

But, it still hurts. It's ridiculous how much I miss them, especially my dogs. Coming home from tour to our "cat", (singular), our house felt uncannily empty. For the last ten years, it's been B & I and our litter. Now it's just us and Marty, who has become a glutton for attention and affection. I'm not stepping over dogs or corralling cats. Something is wrong with this picture.

Inconclusive Results

In May, Mom went for her annual mammogram, a little overdue as it was. It turns out she had a tumor on her breast, about an inch in diameter. Cancer. Again.

Once more, ten years later, my brother and I find ourselves repeating the same story: Trips to doctors, hospital visits, phone calls, clocking medication times, preparing meals and finding plenty of comic relief. Only this time, Mama must do chemotherapy. **shiver**

Fortunately for her, the treatment was relatively short; four treatments, each three weeks apart. Still, it's a nasty business. It's over now, and she's detoxing. Her hair is slowly growing back, dark and baby fine. She is frustrated by the "chemo brain" she's experiencing, but her doctors have reassured her that will go away in 6 months or so.

All things considered, our family is extraordinarily lucky. This is not lost me.

Now, An Interpretive Dance

I re-read a couple of my last few entries. It's been a good 10 months since I've posted on this blog, and I'd forgotten about the commentary I wrote on marriage. Since then, several more of my friends have split up, a few are getting married and some are having babies. Funny, first it's college and boyfriends, then it's jobs and fiances, now it's divorces, babies and career changes. Welcome to your 30s.

So much transformation has occurred over this last year for nearly everyone I know. For me, it's with my family. For others it's their spouses and careers. It's times like this I wonder if there really IS something to the alignment of the earth with the stars. I think, surely there will be reparations to come for all of us. Maybe we just need to sift through what's happened, extract what we can and rebuild.

One thing about strife - there's a lot of inspiration to be found in it. Next week, I'm going to San Francisco to make the record I've been writing for the last year. I don't know if I'm really ready. I haven't figured it all out yet, what it all means, what I'm supposed to do with it. I'm doing what I do best: Flying by the seat of my pants with the unreasonable assurance that everything will work out the way it's supposed to.

A Working Class Hero Is Something To Be

• Yesterday, I found that my sheer dread and subsequent avoidance of going to the unemployment office could really be the spark that lights a creative fire. I did two freelance jobs, wrote lyrics for 3 different songs and worked on melody for 2. It was a much needed release. I love how you go into auto-pilot mode when you're working on a creative project. So focused, and yet not really focusing at all, like you're taking it in through your peripheral. I feel lucky when it comes, because when it's not there for a while, sometimes I think I'll never get it back. It's like trying to harness air. 

• Money is tight, with a capital "T". Collecting unemployment is a pain in the ass. Delays, questions, delays. I'm finding one of the key differences between KY and IN is that in IN, when you apply for your weekly check, you must list 3 places you've applied for work and say what happened, like "no response" or "didn't get the job." In KY, you apply bi-weekly, answer a series of yes/no questions and you're done. For 6 weeks. Then you have to go into the unemployment office to show them your work in looking for a job. Going to the unemployment office is worse than the DMV. By far. The first time I went, I drew number 98. They were on number 86. It took 3 hours. The second time I went, I was there for 2 hours. They say to be there by 3 pm at the latest, in order to be seen. They close at 4:30, so I came a little later this time, in hopes to minimize my wait. By the time I was seen, it was dangerously close to 4:30 pm, as the woman was so kind enough to point out. She gets to go home from her job at 4:30, sharp. Clearly, she's not going to be late for that on account of my broke ass. Anyway, if the two of us could just not keep getting our pay periods interrupted, we could actually stop putting things like groceries on our credit cards.

• My friend S. said when she went to prove she'd been looking for a job a few weeks ago, the line was around the block, and both the news crews and military recruiters were there. As if being unemployed and making a trip to the Land of The Depressed & Jobless isn't bad enough. We have to create a spectacle. It is a spectacle though; look at how high the unemployment rate is. Shit, just talk to your friends. I don't have to tell you. We all know somebody who's jobless at the moment. Anyway, despite the judge-y tone of the clerk, there is nothing to be ashamed about. But you're still at their mercy, and that's a shitty place to be. I was so close to telling off the woman at the unemployment office in New Albany when I went to keep B company. She looked up his claim and said in a scathing tone, "You're just now coming in?" Well, maybe if your effing website was worth a squirt of piss, we'd have figured out what we needed to do. 

• On this same trip to the New Albany Work One office, I heard a woman complaining to the judge-y clerk that she had to cancel her cable. The clerk got all defensive and said, "I don't have cable! I don't have money either!" This is what people have been reduced to, a pissing contest about who's the brokest.

• All the inconvenience aside, winter has been a lovely time to be unemployed. There's nothing I enjoy more than holing up in my house when it's cold out. There is plenty of stuff to do here; I'm not the least bit bored. I do get restless if I don't get out of the house from time to time, and unfortunately, that is often commensurate with the state of our finances.

• I've been going to this awesome video store a lot lately. There have been several days where this is the only trip I make out of the house all day. Last night I discovered an entire section of live music dvds. I'm a goner.

I'm Your Back-Checkin' Cuz

Here is an email I once received at work from my husband.

"My Darling Wife,

I made a little discovery this morning after you left the house. That
coffee that I bought is also decaf. I don't know who's idea it was to
build a huge display of coffees, all of which are marked as decaf only
in fine print, but I'm going to be writing a letter. This is surely
going to cause some kind of accident. Anyway I thought I'd let you
know you might wanna get some caffeine in your system before the the dt's set in."

• He values caffeine.
• He knows how much I value caffeine.
• He looks out for me.

I love it.

P.S. It was totally a Starbucks that had the huge display of DECAF coffee. As if co-opting Italian culture and selling overpriced coffee wasn't bad enough. Morons!

Going to the Chapel

I'm at that age when most of my peers are getting engaged, getting married, having babies or talking about having babies. I even know a few people who've already gotten divorced. Now, I'm no Dr. Phil; divorced, but still handing out condescending advice and passing judgment like salt and pepper as if my own shit doesn't stink, but I have made a few disturbing observations.

The Race To Get Married
First on the list is The Race to Get Married. The thing about The Race to Get Married is, it isn't a race at all. There is no finish line and nobody's giving out blue ribbons. Still, there are people all around me who seem to view marriage as goal, right there next to "See the Grand Canyon" and "Get my Masters." Not that you shouldn't want to get married, but maybe you shouldn't put the cart before the horse. Like, maybe you should get a boyfriend first. Go on a few dates. Get to know each other, you know, outside of the bedroom. Maybe let the relationship develop naturally, instead of putting it on a timeline.

Then there's the folks who've been dating for years, but mysteriously aren't any closer to determining the direction they're headed than they were on their first date. It never ceases to amaze me how many people choose to just "go with it," over the discomfort of a break-up. It's totally lame, not to mention cowardly and a complete waste of your time and theirs. And worse, plenty of their partners ride it out, in hopes of some emotional breakthrough; or drop not-so-subtle hints about The Future, on the off chance that their lover has merely forgotten they've been sharing an apartment for the last 4 years. Do you really want to marry someone who can't decide whether or not they want to be with you? Puh-leeze. My dog has more self esteem.

Side Note: What's with people moving in together right after they begin dating? Am I the only person who can see far enough ahead to realize what a pain in the ass this is going to be if it doesn't work out? That you'll be stuck sharing this one bedroom apartment for 8 more months unless you can come up with the means to break the lease? Maybe I just hate moving more than some people. Or maybe it's that I've helped some friends move one too many times out of their boyfriend's/girlfriend's apartment. All I'm saying is, leave your hormones out of the decision-making process. There's always sleep overs.

You're Married. Now What?
So you just spent the last year of your life planning your dream wedding and dropping every last penny on the reception hall and that all-inclusive couples resort south of the border. But you're married now! All those doubts and conflicts you were having as an unmarried couple magically disappeared after that ring was slipped on your finger, right?

Wait, you mean you still don't agree on how to spend your finances? Or what city you want to live in? Or whether or not you want to have kids? You mean, now you have to consider this other person before you make any big decisions for the rest of your life?!

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but that's what I see happening to people around me. They're so caught up in the "getting married" part, they don't realize what it actually means to be married. And hey, maybe it's not that big of a deal. You can always get divorced, almost as easily as you can find an exit off the interstate with a McDonald's. Having had my own wedding, I'm just saying it seems like a whole lot of hooey and expense to bother with if you're not willing to put forth at least the same effort into your marriage. Yeah, I said "effort." You're not lying on your back getting a Swedish massage here. You're a participant.

I Know What You're Thinking
It kills me how two people, who are supposed to love and support one another, come to expect the worst from each other. I see this all the time, and it's really bugging me, maybe even more than the rushing into marriage part. You come to assume your partner's reactions and feelings, without batting an eye. You stop giving the benefit of the doubt. You expect the worse, and the worst is delivered. It's a vicious cycle of bickering, over the stupidest shit, simply because you're both too stubborn or lazy to consider any other alternatives to what you've come to expect from each other. Let me tell you something, peoples of the eenternet. Being stubborn is childish and unproductive. No matter how right you think you are, you're never going to move beyond where you're at if you're not receptive to your partner.

Monogamy: Leaving The Compound In Utah
Generally speaking, you're not supposed to "do it" with anyone other than your spouse when you're married. It's an idea that haunts a lot of people when they're thinking about a proposal. To those of you who fear the idea of being sexually active with only one person the rest of your life, I submit that you lack innovation and creativity. But you have my understanding just the same. It was something I worried about myself during the first year that B & I were dating, having previously enjoyed being single and sleeping around, having cheated on boyfriends, having boyfriends cheat on me, etc, etc. However, I quickly discovered the benefits of our commitment far outweighed any sexual exploits from my past.

On the one hand, it's just sex. For some people, it's just as perfunctory as eating and sleeping. So what's the big deal with a few wham-bam-thank-you-ma'ams on the side, apart from the regular STD tests? If you are able to maintain a successful open relationship, more power to you. But the fact is, most of us can't stand the thought of their partner being with someone else. Let alone how complicated it could get around Valentine's Day.

On the other hand, it's just sex. So what's the big deal with keeping the booty in the marriage?

How you choose to deal with the issue of monogamy within your relationship isn't for me to decide. But, for fuck's sake, make sure your partner is on the same page. And give each other a break, already! It isn't like once you're married, you're dead inside and all your sexual urges and inexplicable attractions to other people completely disappear. But if you're contemplating ending your marriage because you're attracted to someone else, my unsolicited advice is, douse a little cold water on those hormones and then see how you feel. Consider what you're left with, once the hot flashes subside.

See, the reason they call it a "commitment" is because you're pledging to work it out, even when it doesn't feel good. Even when things feel really bad, and you said some things and they said some things, and you're not sure if you'll ever be able to look at them the same. I'm not suggesting you stick it out with the jerk who smacks you around because his dinner is cold, or the bitch who's systematically fucking all of your friends and spending all of your money. I'm just saying, Be reasonable, people. Think about how you treat each other. Have a little compassion. Quit assigning blame and start accepting some fucking responsibility.

Otherwise, I want the 50 bucks back that I spent on your sham of a wedding gift.

"They Misunderestimated Me."

So the title isn't really a lyric, but it is the same old song from the worst President we've ever had. 

I try not to be, but sometimes I find I'm judgmental about certain things. While I like to operate on the philosophy that all possibilities are in existence (which may explain why it's so hard for me to make decisions), I tend to draw certain conclusions about people's character based on what some may consider trivial observations. On the other hand, actions can often be a reflection of one's character, so maybe I'm not that far off base. Some things that give me cause for suspicion include: 

• people who don't like animals

• people who drive Hummers or extra large Dodge pick-up trucks, which my husband and I have deemed, "The Official Truck of Assholes," while having absolutely no utilitarian need for a vehicle of that stature.

• people who don't use turn signals or generally drive like an asshole. Triple points if they have children in the car.

• people who frequent Jimmy Buffet concerts. It isn't just your musical preferences called into question here.

• people who leave refrigerator doors open for lengthy amounts of time or leave water running for too long or any other act which demonstrates a blatent disregard for its environmental consequences on account of minimal inconvenience.

Petty? Perhaps. But show me an extra large Dodge pick-up truck, and I will show you a driver who is likely white, male and an asshole. 

Maybe it's just that I haven't been surprised by people in a while. That's probably it. I think it's why I'm starved for inspiration at the moment. I want to read or witness something that moves me in such a way that I derive a crucial answer to some philosophical question that will subsequently cause my life to ricochet onto a path of enlightenment. This is what draws me to the Arts. It's probably also a good indication as to why I have such trouble relating in a corporate office environment. We have different priorities.

But that mentality isn't exactly going to net me a job making $80k a year, now is it? Lucky for me, my needs are comparatively minimal. I want more, but I can get by on less. At the moment, it's become a bit of a social experiment to me: Just how much can I do without? I miss tv, and I wish I could go snowboarding in Colorado like my friends N & T, but I'm conscious of what I do have going for me: a home, running water, food and a house full of keyboards. Could be much worse. Could be hiding out in an elementary school in the Gaza Strip, wondering where the next missile will strike.

I'm sure the economy won't always be as bad as it is now, (Thanks George & Dick, and your pals in the Greedy Banking and Oil industries! We couldn't have been fucked without you! Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!) so I am committed to riding this out, as I'm sure you are, on a mixture of optimism and intrigue. What choice do I have?

Bailamos In La Media

(Draft Riots)

I made a list called, "About 2008." I won't post it all here. It's just an exercise in perspective. But I'll share some things of note. 

Among those in our favor: 

• Played about 30 shows.

• Visited Brooklyn, New York and Humboldt Co., California for the first time.

• Someone backed into our car and we got a new paint job that covered up the place where someone keyed my car a few  years ago.

• The house next to my grandmother's, where we lived for 7 years after her passing, burned to the ground, without damaging so much as our fence. 

• Bought a house.

• Recorded 2 songs in the studio.

• Got a Rhodes piano for FREE, indefinitely

• Celebrated B's 30th.

Among those things not in our favor:

• Gained about ten pounds.

• Fell asleep at the bar once when I was really drunk.

• Lost my job. (But gained a lot of free time)

• Lost my husband's job.

• The dog got cancer again.

Mostly it seems 2008 was balanced in our favor. Given my skepticism, it makes me a little nervous for what 2009 will hold. I'd like to think there's some rhyme or reason to the way the year flows, like evens will be good and odds will be rough. But I don't believe it. I think any connection between the characteristics of the animal on a Chinese calendar and what the year is really like is usually coincidence, but I still like the idea. The alignment of stars may be related, simply for the science behind the moon controlling the tides and our feminine rhythms, but mainly because I don't believe anything is too separate from another thing. If you believe all possibilities are in existence, our experiences are limitless. It is with this mindset that I approach the New Year.

All possibilities are in existence. The future is limitless. 

Or maybe it's the psychedelics talking. Either way, I am enthusiastically both observer and participant.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

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...

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.