aka krista

days ten and eleven

2011-08-01T17:30:00.000-07:00

HEY HI KENDRA HELLO.

Day 10 - A song that can pick you up out of a bad mood

i am really, really excited about this one! BECAUSE I GET TO LISTEN TO THIS SONG. and NOTHING on this planet makes me as happy as this fucking song:

(banditos - the refreshments)

so give you ID card to the border guard
your alias says you're captain jean-luc picard
of the united federation of planets
'cause he won't speak english anyway

THE NINETIES. I WILL TAKE THEM. one of my favorite cheesy videos, the best cheesy lead singer hair (lookin' mighty fine, rog), and oh oh oh the lyrics. happy, happy, happy.

i don't even have a second song. that's how happy that song makes me.

moving on to sadder things...

Day 11 - A song that can kill a good mood

(ne me quitte pas - nina simone)

as if it weren't sad enough in fucking french, i had to look up the translation once and obviously she's saying don't leave me over and over but then there's this (at least i hope it's a correct translation):

let me become
the shadow of your shadow
the shadowof your hand
the shadow of your dog

ouch.

i had to do it

2011-07-13T18:29:00.000-07:00

EVERYBODY'S DEAD, DAVE.

ritual

2011-07-13T09:23:00.000-07:00

(i deleted and posted this several times, but since i'm pretty sure it's just you reading it, i'll go ahead and keep it up. let's just be honest.)

wrapped up in a blanket, sitting at the kitchen table with half of an icebox cold watermelon and a table knife, a new book, a strange look, i picture you - wide mouth, half roman nose, maybe greenish eyes and one mischievous dimple, already sitting at my feet, tugging, insistent, chaotic, like me. come to bed, come to bed, come tuck me in. please hurry.

days eight and nine

2011-06-19T18:48:00.000-07:00

Day 8 - A song from a show/concert you've been to (sorry, 'to which you've been')

my two favorite concerts ever (yes, i am a boring loser):

(i needed somebody - irma thomas)

i fucking love irma thomas. you don't even. you don't even know. and she's a local girl, so come on.

(an old fashioned love song - three dog night)

i am such a square sometimes.

Day 9 - A song you would play to torture enemy combatants

oh, this is easy:

(streamline - newton)

day seven

2011-06-08T18:31:00.000-07:00

Day 7 - A song that reminds you of a lost love

this one is really easy so i'm going to do it tonight, too!

anybody who has ever known me can figure out who this one is about. the lyrics are just...perfect:

(joey - concrete blond)

i know you've heard it all before
so i don't say it anymore
i just stand by and let you fight your secret war
and though i used to wonder why
i used to cry til i was dry
still sometimes i get a strange pain inside
joey, if you're hurting so am i

(johnette napolitano's voice is like fucking lip balm. for the chapped soul. ew. anyway, that is somehow a compliment. i want to literally wrap my entire body in her voice. is that...weird?)

and this one is more for my secret spaces, for a friend, but i dunno. honestly, it encompasses all loss for me. sidenote: i cannot listen to this song. at all. without crying. when she sings "would you just look at me?" i want to slit my wrists and slip into the bathtub. well, hell, the entire set of lyrics just twists me all up. i am not even listening to it now! i hope it plays. ENJOY.

(clam, crab, cockle, cowrie - joanna newsom)

there are some mornings when the
sky looks like a road
there are some dragons who were
built to have and hold

i do as i please
now i'm on my knees
your skin is something that
i stir into my tea
and i am watching you
and you are starry, starry, starry

(there is another song, but it's another joanna song, so i'll spare you)

day six

2011-06-08T17:59:00.000-07:00

Day 6 - A song that makes you want to dance around like an idiot with people watching

(dance motherfucker dance - violent femmes)

no, really. i don't dance. i've got about as much rhythm and grace as a newborn calf. a direct order will do, though.

this has taken me so long because i CAN two-step, but i can't think of any good two-steppin' songs.

i can also box waltz to some old country music, so here:

(waltz across texas - ernest tubb)

also? also? one of the most romantic, dreamy songs ever to me.

my heartaches and troubles are just up and gone
the moment that you come in view
and with your hand in mine, dear, i could dance on and on
and i could waltz across texas with you

day five

2011-05-29T17:53:00.000-07:00

Day 5 - A song with deep lyrics

(insomnia and the hole in the universe - live)

holy shit, kidding. angel, don't you have some bagels in my oven? is probably my favorite line written in a song ever ever, though. i mean, really?

(sorry for the creepy kid video)

(el condor pasa - simon and garfunkel)

i'm taking the easy way out. one of my favorite songs, some of my favorite lyrics.

day four

2011-05-25T18:41:00.000-07:00

Day 4 - A good song to have sex to

a day late, sorry!

this...tripped me up a bit, to be honest. because i don't like to hear music when there are bits touching. it just throws off my game. i'm either really into music, or it sucks. there is no in between for me. so we can either play something i'm into, and i will not pay attention to you because i am playing air drums, or we can put something on that sucks and i will not have sex with you because you have terrible taste.

honestly? honestly? the first song that popped into my head was this one:

(drive - r.e.m.)

which...does that even make sense? no, you cannot have sex to that unless you're a fucking weirdo.

the only other things that popped into my head were horrible, angry things like TOOL and ALICE IN CHAINS and SOUNDGARDEN (what is wrong with me? why am i such a dude about some stuff?). so i mostly gave up.

that's not to say music doesn't get me in the mood...so have this one. because it does the trick, for whatever bizarre reason.

(no lie - it's the harmonica...nothing sexier than an instrument that sounds like a hot summer night)

(tell me more and more and then some - nina simone)

day three

2011-05-23T18:36:00.000-07:00

Day 3 - A song that makes you bob your head

pretty self explanatory. my favorite song to run to as well. thanks, kendra!

(put it down - redman)

day two

2011-05-22T17:37:00.000-07:00

Day 2 - A song you play to make people think you have taste

NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO LET YOU KNOW MY MUSIC MEME WILL NOT BE SAFE FOR WORK, CHILDREN, OR MY MOM.

(yankin - lady)

anyway, if you can't get through that video, all you need to know is there are hot fries, dill pickles, and four lokos in champagne glasses. you are welcome. if you did get through it, you...well, you're my sister.

okay for real - this one's really hard. the thing is, i don't really care? i know what other people think is super cool, or hip, or awesome, and i usually don't like it, heh. everyone who knows me knows i don't actually HAVE good taste in music. it's all over the map and it's mostly ridiculous. and the audience matters, too. am i trying to impress my parents? my friends? my coworkers?

i would probably play my favorite kitka song. and everyone would hate me.

(devoiko, mari, khubava - kitka)

day one

2011-05-21T10:00:00.000-07:00

Day 1 - A song you would make your personal anthem if you took over the world

If I'm going to take over the world it's because I'm drunk and pissed off. I'm not a race car driver (obviously?) but this song would be my anthem because Chris Cornell is so angry and because all of his words are so curiously slurred it took me around six years to decipher what the fuck he was singing. If you can't fuck shit up to this song, we probably can't be friends.*

(kyle petty, son of richard - soundgarden)

I came to fight so get out of my way
‘Cause Daddy told me don’t you ever
Take no fucking shit

*that's not really true. most of my really good friends are not in the business of fucking shit up. just, like, two of 'em.

hey whatever

2011-05-20T19:14:00.000-07:00

hi, mom.

i just opened this up for two things. one, to complete the 30 day music meme, but it's more or less for my sister, because...i don't know, because i've enjoyed hers and even though she hates my music and i generally hate hers, i feel like i should return the favor. because she dedicated a lady song to me. (go google the lady same bitch video and get back to me. no, not you, mom!).

also she (my sister, not my mom) posted this and it makes me laugh:

blogger feels icky to me lately.

2011-04-25T07:45:00.000-07:00

i'm going to focus more on -

a. what's for supper, sister? (because i need to cook more, esp. now that lent is over)
b. my old old old blog in hiding, where i don't have to worry about what i say/what people think/weirdos (if you just have to read, hit me up - but do you really?)
c. developing a book blog for pam and krista's eyes only (or not, i have no idea - kram, circa 2004)
d. believing the coupon industry is a conspiracy
e. buying in season fruits and veggies instead of spending fuck all on whatever i want
f. deleting these five lbs i've gained over winter/early spring (hoy)
g. making a baby with willpants, chicken dancer extraordinaire and all-around creepster. but my creepster!

i'll be back if i have something to say. ta!

2011-04-19T10:44:00.000-07:00

i was working on a new post and to prove a point, i guess, or just for fun references, i was going through my old journal, where my poetry is sporadically posted. it's not all tagged, so i am seeing a lot of it for the first time in about ten years. i promised myself i would never, ever post my poetry here, because i'm not that girl anymore, but this put such a big smile on my face i had to put it here so i won't forget it again.

(also, i feel like i should point out that no, i never took classes on writing or poetry so this is in no way meant to be polished or professional or even good. it just struck me, how much this summed up 22 year old me - confused, angry, hopeful, a little bit crazy, very deeply embedded in the earth.)

will get on that other post later, trying to remember the weekend i had.

i'm telling you now
i want to be tasha tudor
when i grow up
surrounded by tulips and
forget-me-nots
only underwater

but you can't
dye your hair

(i don't want to dye
my hair let it go grey)

who's going to sing
welsh ballads, who will
be your prince?

(i don't want a goddamn prince,
i'm an old lady - look at me
i'm practically dead.)

you'll be lonely.

i am lonely.

tasha tudor isn't lonely

yes, but she has a basket of pansies, see?
right there, yellow blotch,
red blotch, all in a cold frame.

her violas are her friends
her daffodils sing her ballads for her
i don't need a goddamn prince

(last week you said)

i was wrong.

you can't draw

(i'll learn
i'll be an artist
i'll paint wide strokes
in pinks and blues
that will end up roses
in summer)

i'll plant apple trees,
i'll move to fucking washington
i'll be whatever i want to be
and i'll eat apples all the while.

green or red?

fucking purple, does it matter?
and look here, i'll need a plaid green skirt,
a black top, a green paisley scarf to tie

here she's wearing all purple. too cliche.

no, her scarf is red. it matches the pansies.
or the bleeding heart. if i were tasha tudor -
my bleeding heart would bloom. my skirt would match the lilacs.

lilacs in louisiana?

lilacs in louisiana. lilacs in the middle of the goddamn
desert. does it matter? i'm dreaming.

but you really would be lonely

no, i really wouldn't.
i could escape this,
past mistakes and memories
i want to let go of
forget names and place
and dates

just like tasha tudor.

(yes, just)

tasha tudor had a prince
and four children
and grandchildren

fine. throw in a prince.
just keep him out of my
garden, send him to the orchards,

perhaps he can pick
flowers for you

if he'll sing
a ballad,
perhaps.

disney, a blog post

2011-04-14T07:34:00.000-07:00

Beware: this is a rambling, disjointed, sadsack mess of a blog about our vacation to Disney World last week.

There are pictures but I haven't uploaded all of them yet. Working on that! Do you really care? I mean, besides my mom? There is also a misuse of the Caps lock key which usually isn't my style, but I'm hoping everyone will be especially forgiving today.

(do you know how many drafts of our disney-story are on here? a lot.)

Okay, I'm here to write about our Gigantic Family Disney World Adventure. This won't be easy because I'm sick and it's probably going to be a work in progress (I almost typed WIP, how embarrassing, also by progress I mean it will take a couple of days.)

(It has been past a couple days, oops.)

First off, listen: my parents bought a 30 foot motor home. It's essential that you know that is how we traveled. My dad spent a lot of time pretending to be Clark Griswold, but that's unrelated to the motor home. He does that if we drive to the gas station. Anyway, this thing is huge and it has a toaster and a coffee pot and you can pee while you are going down the road. Mind blown.

Saturday evening Mom and Dad (hereby known as the Ls) picked us up in the Good Ship Lollipop (thanks, Mom) and we packed up our suitcases and hit the road to drive the two hours down to Baton Rouge. We had supper with my sister and her husband and Curt (hereby known as the Bs) at the hotel we were staying at - by we I mean the Ls and Will and I, HEREBY KNOWN AS THE Ps). The food took forever to come out so we got free cheesecake. That is a good way to start a vacation. It is also a good way to start a downward spiral of ill-fitting shorts, if that's what you're aiming for.

It was a boring night. There is only so much one can do in a Holiday Inn Express. Will frowns on trashing hotel rooms.

Monday we got up bright and early and went down to meet the Ls and the Bs for breakfast. I ate so many cheese grits I wanted to die. I love cheese grits. Anyway, after breakfast we boarded the school bus (which is what Curt called it, eventually shortened to bus - and so we all call it that now, because what he says goes).

We drove to Ocala, Florida, which is a very, very long way away in bus miles. I got a bit sick. There is a TV in the back of the bus that Will tried to watch, but there was a problem. We started watching Dead Poets Society, which he has never seen (WHAT, although, yeah, why would he have seen it? Also now I realize he never ever got any of my BARBARIC YAWP references, which is a real shame), but we hit a huge bump in the road and the movie switched to Three Men and a Baby. Bump: Catch Me If You Can. Bump: some movie with Robert Redford. Bump: a cartoon. We eventually turned it off because as fun as it was, it can get a bit disorienting. On a bus.

We got to Ocala and checked into a really pretty hotel. It had pink chairs and a huge staircase that Curt really liked. I did my nails. It didn't have a bathtub so I had to take a shower which I really don't like, but whatever, my nails looked fantastic. The bed gave me a backache. The next morning we had breakfast and then a storm came through so we couldn't leave until noon, hours after we wanted to head out. No problem! We eventually got back on the bus and drove two hours to Disney World, the motherfucking happiest place on Earth, they are not shitting you about that.

As the signs say, LET THE ~~FUCKING~~ MAGIC BEGIN.

We got to Disney World and dropped our bags off at the resort (the Ls and Curt stayed at the Grand Floridian, the Bs and Ps had adjoining rooms at the French Quarter Riverside, miles and miles away, heh), fussed over who would carry what, the headed out for the Magic Kingdom.

PRINCESS CASTLE.

I am a huge girl when it comes to the princess castle, by the way. I took three million pictures of it, to add to the sixteen million pictures I already have from previous visits. I just love that thing so much. It makes my chest all achy. Because maybe I'm a princess? I could be a princess, shut up.

I don't really remember what we did in Magic Kingdom? Besides try and keep everyone together? And Curt rode the Dumbo ride with Shayne and we ate some ice cream and maybe that night we watched the Electric Light Parade (is that even what it's called or did I make that up?). Curt slept through the parade so we left.

I am a bit fuzzy on all of this at this point.

Wednesday was when the family unit fell completely and irreparably apart. The perils of staying in separate resorts. Each couple (and Curt, duh) agreed we would meet in the Animal Kingdom that morning so Will and I got up and got dressed and headed over.

Will and I are CRAZY and I am a MORNING PERSON. So of course, no one else was ready. Kendra and Shayne were actually trying to have a restful vacation (WHAT) and Mom and Dad were struggling with a two-year old, so. The Ps didn't quite grasp that concept until we crashed much, much later with spasming calf muscles and bleeding feet. We never saw the Ls and Bs in a park setting again. From here on out, "we" is the Ps.

So we got to Animal Kingdom and hooboy, it was packed. Like, I had never seen it that bad. Mind you, I've never been to Disney World in the middle of the summer, but I imagine that's what it looks like in say, June. Mom talked to a native and even he said it was busier than he had ever seen it. So awful. But whatever. Shayne eventually called us and said, basically, NO, WE ARE NOT GOING IN THERE IT'S MAGIC HOURS (please google magic hours so I don't have to explain) so Will and I left lickety split, headed for Hollywood Studios.

I used to hate Hollywood Studios. My husband made me love it by buying me lots of ice cream and putting me on roller coasters and OH! Indiana Jones is all over Hollywood Studios and that is all a girl really needs in life, if you ask me. Indy and ice cream, anyway. We ate lunch here where they yell your name for "dinner" and fuss at you if you put your elbows on the table. Oh, yes, they do. I was a nervous wreck because "getting in trouble" is somehow in my top five fears. I fucking hate to be in trouble, you may as well take me out back and shoot me.
Then we went to Magic Kingdom and rode Space Mountain.

Thursday we decided to try Animal Kingdom again. Still packed but you could actually walk down the street, so that was an improvement. We rode a bunch of rides (DINOSAUR being my favorite, ahem) and were the jackasses wearing ponchos on the Kali River Rapids and we ate more ice cream. Then we ate at Rainforest Cafe, which to me is a must if you are in Animal Kingdom. We sat under the python.

Thursday night we had a reception to go to (we were technically all there for Dad's work, by the way, I should have mentioned that about thirty run-on sentences ago). The entire family unit was finally reunited and there was a buffet of super fancy food (salad in plastic cones?) and an OPEN BAR and CHARACTERS.

Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Daisy, Pluto, and Goofy were all there, walking around, fucking shit up. I was in heaven. Curt was alright with it, too.

I'm kidding, Curt almost DIED. Like, legit dead. It was adorable, though, not scary, I promise.

Then we went to Magic Kingdom and rode Space Mountain.

Oh, Friday. Friday is special to me. Friday we went to my favorite park, Epcot. We tried to hang with the Bs, but they got understandably bored waiting for Will to spin around in a spaceship. I got bored, too. And then I lost him, and he found me.

We rode all of the land/space stuff in the front and then walked through the entire World Showcase. It took us all day. Highlights:

I got hit on by two preteen boys. We were sitting on a ride, waiting to take off. The seating arrangement was me, Will, some kid. In front of us were two strangers, and the kid's friend. The friend turns around and asks Will "Are you two married?" Will says yes. This kid says "You are a very lucky man." The kid sitting next to Will turns to look at me and then give his friend a thumbs up and says "I agree, Tom."

At first I was totally flattered then I was a bit skeeved (what would your mother say?) now I think I'm a bit flattered again. I mean, the grey was even showing in my hair and I was oily from suntan lotion and a bit burned and sweaty. Thanks, Tom and your Asian friend in glasses. You boys are very nice, and you were also very geeky which means you have a good chance someone just like me will want to date you one day.

I lost a shopping bag in France. We went to see the little film about France and I left it in the cold, dark theater. I have always, always loved shopping in France (um, you know I'm talking about fake Epcot France right? Good.) but I really can't stand the people? Each country has natives of that country working...in that country (I should think about that sentence, but no, I don't want to) and EVERY TIME I go to Disney World, France is full of complete hateful beasts parading as cast members. So, anyway, I lost my shopping bag full of books from Germany and stationary from Japan and I was distraught. Sweaty and tired and distraught. So we found a cast member who looked and sounded like Jean Girard from Ricky Bobby (if you don't know what I'm talking about, please don't look it up because you will lose all respect for me) and he eventually FOUND IT in the very dark theater and brought it back to me and said "it will cost you." Hmm. I said, okay. And he said "ONE GREAT BIG HUG."

...

SO I HUGGED THIS SHIT OUT OF HIM. AND THEN HE MADE WILL HUG HIM. HAHAHAHAHA.

This is so fantastic if you know my husband.

Anyway, oh and we ate lunch in Norway, which is Will's favorite country. We thought we would live a little, having absolutely zero idea of what Norwegians eat, even in Florida, so. It was excellent. So excellent, in fact, we sent the Bs to eat there the next day. It was probably the best meal I had all week!

Norway story I've told three million times: We were standing in line to pay for our food and when we got up to the cashier Will read his name tag. It said he was from Dombaas, which, well, you know what that looks like. Will was curious and said "How do you pronounce that?" pointing at the tag. This guy looks Will straight in the face and says "Kenneth."

And Will and Krista died all over their tortes and tarts.

I also want to say, so I never forget, that Canada had the nicest, nicest people of all the countries. Those Canadians were AWESOME. They were just so CHEERFUL and FRIENDLY and I mean, it was late at night and they had to be at work in stupid costumes helping dumb park-freaks but they were genuinely happy about it. I loved it. I didn't wan to leave! Will made me leave.

Then we went to Magic Kingdom and rode Space Mountain.

Saturday we went to Magic Kingdom and rode Space Mountain.

Okay, then we went to Downtown Disney and shopped a bit and saw Limitless, mostly because it was a cold place to rest our feet for awhile, not because either of us were particularly interested in it (I didn't like it - but it did make me want to do drugs and read the book, so, is that what they were aiming for?). We took it really slow on Saturday. We had been running through the parks at top speed, doing absolutely everything we could pack in (SQUEEEEEZE I would tell Will several times, we have to squeeze every drop out of this trip! And every once in awhile we would just make squeezy hand motions at one another) so we were beat. Just a slow walk through some stores was a nice way to wind down.

Oh, and then we went to Magic Kingdom and rode Space Mountain.

Well, Space Mountain had shut down for some reason and we were really sad. We had somehow come to the conclusion that the last thing we needed to do on this trip was ride Space Mountain. So we walked around awhile, rode a couple of other things, but every time we came back, it was still closed and no one could give us even an estimation on a time it would be fixed. Eventually our persistence paid off and it was open! But the line was out in the park, which, okay, there was no standby time posted but I've seen the time posted as two hours and the line is still in the building. We were thinking three or four hours. No sir. So we turned around to leave, dejected, and this woman stops us and hands us two fast passes! That she had had but was not going to use! SO WE RODE SPACE MOUNTAIN AND THEN WE WERE HAPPY.

(this is where you google fast passes, because I am so so lazy and high on cough syrup and I am losing steam on this fast fast fast)

Sunday we rode home. All the way, one way. That is a lot of hours, my babies. And I got really sick with some weirdo cold thing and ran a fever on a bus, which is a fear probably right behind my fear of getting in trouble. (can you imagine if I got in trouble for having a fever on a bus?)

And here we are. I think I wrote everything I wanted to remember. Oh, wait, we ate cheeseburgers and cheesecake for supper at least three times. And by supper I mean ten o'clock at night. That was fantastic.

Oh, and one night we stayed in Magic Kingdom until it shut down, and I have mixed feelings about that. It was awesome because it was empty and dark and weird (they still pipe the happy music through the speakers all over the park though, creeeeepy) and the night shift crew members are INSANE. But it was really sad because we had to watch it close down and get cleaned up and go to bed and the four year old inside me really didn't like that one bit.

And in case you were wondering, no, we didn't ever stay still to see the fireworks over the castle because it makes me cry every time. I did hear the music while we were in line for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and my eyes got all twitchy and wet. Yeah.

Summary: We rode every ride ever, emphasis on Space Mountain. We ate a lot. We had so much fun I got sick.

Of course, it could have been touching the roller coasters and then eating ice cream sandwiches, but who knows.

just checking in

2011-04-12T09:07:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a blog about our trip, but being away from my desk for six days has resulted in some pretty hefty piles of paper. Also, I'm busy eating my weight in avocados. I didn't bring any with me on vacation because that seemed a tad creepy. Oh, and I'm sick, I guess from putting my hands all over roller coaster seats and then eating ice cream bars. Who knew?

2011-03-30T20:31:00.000-07:00

nothing going on here. if you follow me on twitter you know i am:

eating a lot of avocados.
about to go to disneyworld with my family.
hating tv but it is always on.
suddenly tan-from-a-bottle.
suddenly fat-from-not-running.
tired 98% of the day for no reason.
drinking twice as much coffee as your regularly scheduled krista.

i hate this video but like this song:

(also i have been playing a pc game made in 1996 and writing really bad prose and laughing at everything)

the south's champion

2011-03-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

this is kind of for my sister, honestly, because we have a love of random rap music in common, which is so weird. it's so over the top and ridiculous (which is how i like my rap songs). also, turns out it's the song the new orleans hornets play when they come out on the court, ha! and it's good for running. and struttin'. you know. sometimes ladies gotta strut to make themselves feel good. the best accessory you can have is confidence. if you know you look good, everyone else does, too - true story.

AND IT'S GOT LUDA.

2011-03-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

will is working from another store today so i had a whole hour at lunch to myself to zip around (hahahaha) and do whatever i wanted (you know, because will holds me back*). i had a nice time. i bought a new pair of comfy shoes for summer time (okay, i bought two) and then i bought a candle at bath and body works so i could use my free something-or-other coupon. and then i had this great, great idea. let's go to mcdonald's and get a vanilla cone, even though i totally don't need it and it will fuck my stomach right up let's do it yes yes yes ice cream knock off. i drive thru and give my order and pull up and pay and pull up and and and i am so ready for ice cream and so ready to want to puke and die from eating it and

what is worth one dollar?

taking your ice cream from the hands of a girl

who has bandages all around her mouth

and thanking her and getting a lovely band-aid smile

and driving off and peeling off that little wrapper on the cone

and throwing that cone out the window to feed the ants.

a dollar well spent on an easy lesson, i say. and my stomach is thanking me for it.

i have a love/hate relationship with ice cream, by the way. and morrisey, and shoes, and the internet.

*KIDDING, SHIT.

2011-03-20T18:25:00.000-07:00

So I was going to sit down and write all of the horrible, nasty thoughts I had about our trip to New Orleans this weekend. But it just felt wrong and pathetic and weak, and then someone posted a bible verse on Facebook that I think I really needed to read:

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.

Which is just fitting enough to get myself to shut the fuck up and be grateful for what I have, which is a whole fucking lot.

(I know it can be off-putting to have a bible reference thrown up in your face when you are usually met with harsh criticism of daily life and the word FUCK, but I think we all know how I feel about religion, so. SO.)

Anyway, we made it back to our little corner of the world just in time to see Curt and bring him the coloring book and crayons we bought him, take a 3 hour snuggly nap (that we totally deserved, holy shit*), water all my plants and get the sprinkler working in the veggie garden, go grocery shopping (by myself mmm) and roll up to my grandparents' house for two heaping bowls of homemade cherry ice cream. Now I'm sitting in my very clean kitchen, listening to the washer and dryer (and Depeche Mode, duh), drinking a beer, and oh yeah, my house smells like the Ritz in New Orleans (um, yum).

I got it alright, yeah?

*Because I am going to want to remember this always - we are so tired because the hotel we stayed in had really, really thin walls and the room we were adjoined to had a huge gap under the door into our room? And the neighbors watched television until midnight. Oh, right, and they had a loud, filthy threesome** starting at 4:30 until our alarm went off. And when I knocked on the wall to quiet them, they spent the next thirty minutes fucking AND cussing me out. Lovely!

**At first I thought it was two dudes, but there was a kind of quiet lady in there, too.***

***You're at a shitty Sheraton in Metairie, Louisiana...is that the best you can really do?****

****One of the dudes sounded like he was dying instead of fucking. I really wanted to leave a note under their door to tell him to work on that (distraaaacting) but Will said no ma'am.

you have the right not to be killed

2011-03-16T15:48:00.000-07:00

CLICK HERE TO LAUGH. (at least kendra, okay?)

will and i watch that like fifty times a day. a convert? probably not - he doesn't laugh at the taco mail skit.

me: tomorrow is st. patty's day!
boss: ARRRR.
me: that's a pirate.
boss: fuck.

there is nothing going on here. i took monday off and cleaned my house like a crazy person and now it's nice. i've been eating a lot of easter candy (that is really not new - just that it is holiday themed).

here are some songs i like by bands i like that will doesn't like so i have to listen to them when he's not around:

(does anybody else here hate ol' leo? aside from being arnie grape?)

(i do not know how my husband can not like the clash.)

i am going to go bake him a cake, even though.

2011-03-11T16:19:00.001-08:00

2011-03-10T06:09:00.000-08:00

nothing new going on over here. i've been so, so tired these past few days, and weak, and whiny, and teary-eyed, so i dragged my sorry ass to the doc yesterday to have some blood drawn. fingers crossed it's my thyroid meds that need to be upped and not me just being a pathetic little bitch (although that is a likely possibility as well).

also also will gave up soda for lent (for real this time - all leaded sodas, not just the dark ones) and, for a twist, meat? so...i guess...hit me up with your best seafood or veggie recipes? for the next forty days? thanks.

we are going to lafayette for reasons unknown to me this weekend. i think to shop? but i'm not sure for what. my husband is a pill.

then we are going to new orleans soon to see the hornets play the celtics whaaaat. i love new orleans in the springtime, but probably won't get to see much of it other than the inside of the shopping mall and maybe a stray whataburger, because we are going with my in-laws.

this past weekend was nice - some margaritas, a mardi gras parade, some drive-thru daiquiris (all with will and cat and marc and his new lady), lots of hangover and hangover cure (the daiquiris).

(why yes, sir, i do dominate conversations, it's just what i do)

so we had a dude out here at work for the past three days - he was in new orleans for mardi gras. he rolls up in here today with practically no voice, looking like a sad dog. so i guess since his voice is shot he thinks he's not going to answer the phone. well, i have news for you, buddy.* i'm not answering the phones first because my brain is shot from picking up your slack while you were out throwing cheap pieces of plastic at titties. shame-on-ya, as...someone says. i can't remember. if i can work drunk, you can work hungover (no, i am not drunk).

we go to disneyworld in three weeks. then i can finally get off my stupid pills and try and make a baby with mr. bateman. so i can...be more tired? and whiny? and mean to my coworkers? hmm, maybe i haven't thought this through.

*when i wrote this i immediately started singing tool: i've got some advice for you, little buddy, before you point your finger you should know that i'm the man...

which means, yes, i would like that vacation very much.

so much talking

2011-03-04T06:52:00.000-08:00

True story: spellcheck isn't working today, so I apologize for any errors. A quick spellcheck is generally the only proofing I do?

This will probably end up a mish-mash of bullshit and bullet points. I'm trying to keep a record, after all. Wait, maybe I didn't share that with you. I'm getting kind of tired of sharing.

I'm not in a bad mood, I'm in a mean mood. Do you ever get like that? Lots of eyerolls and back talking.

- Will decided we needed a joint checking account. We pulled 3/4 of his balance at his bank and brought it to my bank to put his name and his money on my account. I have had this account so long my mom's name was still on it, so they wouldn't let us add Will without her signature. Ridiculous. Well, no, not really. So we opened a new account, dumped the money in there, got some temporary checks and now we wait patiently for his card to come in and for my debit card to transfer to the new account. Only...

it's not...

...and soon all I will have is some temporary checks? So, let's get a move on that, bank.

Pros: Will makes a lot more than I do, therefore he pays for a lot more than I do. Now I can go grocery shopping by myself (hallefuckinglujah). He can buy things on Ebay without having to give me the money to put in my account to cover the Paypal cost (for some reason we could never get his set up, I can't remember why), my mother says you aren't really married until you have a joint account?

Also, I changed my name for real, finally, government-approved, brand new social security card in the mail, oh god. I dropped my middle name (Lynette) and slapped my maiden name in the middle. I love my middle name because I was named after my dad (Lynn, and my parents still think Lynette is spelled with two n's? But no, it's not?), but you know what reminds me of my dad even more? My maiden name, duh. So. I didn't hyphenate it because that seemed kind of weird and pretentious (I'm not royalty over here), but I still will probably sign my whole name.

And I need to practice because I am really, really bad at writing an uppercase p. You guys would die.

Also, we bought a new car.

(WE HAVE BEEN REALLY BUSY)

It's a Hyundai Santa Fe. I'm kind of in love with it. I don't think either of us ever thought a new-to-us-car was a luxury we could ever allow ourselves because it's not as important to us - a used car would have been just fine, as long as we have some funds to enjoy life. We don't want to be those people who have a fantastic new house and two new cars and a boat and the biggest TV, etc. etc. We want to be able to take stupid weekend trips and go to the movies once a week way more. So. SO. I was so proud of Will for doing a ton of research and finding a great ride for us (and future baby p-pants), getting a good deal, and just generally TCBing. He is a great dude.

And he's happy because right now I drive a Mustang - I like to race people, drive like a dipshit asshole, and there are virtually no blind spots in my car so I'm a little less careful (sorry, parents). This car gets great mileage, so there is just enough go to maybe pass a Sunday driver and the ENTIRE FUCKING VEHICLE is a blind spot. I spend a lot of time twisting my torso around to see what the hell is going on around me.

It's ok, no tears! I still have my 'stang!

I had to take a new license picture for my name and address change (yes, no, I had yet to change my address, even though we've been living in our house for I think three years) and you know what? Stupid girl magazines are right - lips totally get smaller as you age. I kept my old license and I can't stop staring - it's amazing how I look like an entirely different person. My chin is pointier (neverminding that I'm about 15 lbs. lighter than when I took the old license picture around eight years ago), my skin is better (thanks to no smoking, I am guessing), I apparently pluck the shit out of my eyebrows now, and my lips and...my nose, I think? Seem narrower. Which is fine, because I always thought my face looked like a big mishapen lump - my nose is a big crooked, my lips are TOTALLY FUCKING CROOKED and they used to be huge, and just no. I was never fond of my face. But for the past few years I've started to accept it and now I see why! My face makes a lot more sense! Also I have crazy cheekbones that have appeared out of nowhere.

What I'm saying is, I am alright with my face now. I still don't think I am the most gorgeous lady in the ENTIRE WORLD HOLY SHIT, but I guess I'm alright. I mean, I get by.

Speaking of getting by, a very short man with a missing tooth bought me a cup of coffee the other day. He kept talking very loudly about oh-ho-ho all of his conference calls and he called everyone sweetheart.

I keep buying grande coffees, but then only drinking half. But then I always forget about this, and keep ordering grande.

Hey, it's Mardi Gras weekend! What are you doing? I always wish wish wish I was going to New Orleans with Pam like I used to do (everyone go to Mardi Gras in New Orleans ONCE, and go to a ball, and meet fantastic nice people and smooch sexy, sweaty celebrities barefoot, please), but no. I think Sunday Cat and I
are going to the parade here in town (I know that means nothing to outsiders - for future reference, I am talking about Alexandria - anybody from anywhere BUT Alexandria calls it "town") and she wants to eat crawfish and get margaritas somewhere, which, I mean, come on. I'm game.

And then tomorrow I was invited to go to Mamou. Here is some very limited information on Mamou. Besides visit Will's crazy-adorable grandfather, do you know what people do in Mamou? They go to Fred's! Which is this famous tiny bar with zydeco music and you go and dance with cute old Cajun men and drink at 8 AM until you die in the street. Oh look, Fred's has a Facebook page.

I cannot decide if I want to do this for a couple reasons.

1. I do not dance. I can barely walk without faceplanting, and I am not exaggerating. But I don't want to be rude to old men.

2. I will get so drunk. I WILL GET SO DRUNK. Come on, guys, you know me.

But I kind of want to do it so I can say, yes, I've been to Fred's. Been there, done that, passed out in the ditch. I will probably not make up my mind until about two seconds before it's time to leave. I just get so-fucking-nervous these days, stepping outside my shell. That used to not happen. It's sad.

My lucky, lucky sister who married into Cajun blood, is going to Elton. Here is Elton. I believe she'll be there for the real Courir de Mardi Gras, which I am so jealous of. Mamou has one too, but all of that is on actual Fat Tuesday, when I have to work. Or, well, I don't know anyone living down there. Will's grandpa, but he is much too old to dance or ride a horse.That is the only Mardi Gras celebration I haven't seen yet. I watch videos every year, but have never been to a real one. Up here we just have our dumb parade on the weekend, and then I've done the New Orleans thing which words can't even fucking DESCRIBE, but you know. Cajuns.

Oh, something else. Y'all know my aunt died in my house right? Okay, she died in my house. And when we moved in creepy things happened and my mama came over and had a talk with her (no, really). Well, something strange has started happening again? Every day before we leave I turn up the air conditioner. Lately the high during the day has been upper 70s, so I turn it up to about 74 or 75, cool enough to the kitties, warm enough to not send our bill through the roof. I control the a/c in our house - Will is not allowed to touch it without my permission because I am crazy temperature lady. Anyway, a couple times this week, I've come home and the house is stifling and the a/c is...switched off. All the way off. Which reminds me of how the radio station on the radio we used while we were painting would completely switch. Actual, physical things. Will does not believe in these things and therefore thinks I am an idiot woman who can't remember turning the a/c off.

Um, no.

Anyway. Something to chew on. Today I made him WATCH ME turn it UP, not off. Aunt Pinney, don't let me down. Turn it off again and scare the ever-loving shit out of my husband, please. I'd really appreciate that.

Also, I've already decorated for Easter. I was trying to wait until the weekend after Mardi Gras, when we're in the sad, boring days of Lent (it's not so sad for boring for me - except I have to be careful what I cook on Fridays, and that drives me nuts. And Easter is my FAVORITE HOLIDAY so it's torture waiting for it) but no dice. Bunnies have taken over my house and it's fluffy and adorable and pastel. My sister would throw up if she saw it.

Holy shit, this felt good. And now I'm in a much better mood. And I shared the shit out of stuff, after saying I was tired of it. And Will still hates when I start sentences with conjunctions. And I will continue to do it that, as well as not put the new roll of toilet paper on the holder. Although, I really think that is a genetic problem.

As EmmySuh just said in an e-mail: BAM. FRIDAY.

downtown

2011-02-23T07:57:00.000-08:00

I really, really don't like shows about ghosts. I think they're a little silly. That being said, Ghost Hunters is apparently one of those shows on Syfy (I fucking hate typing that, it feels so wrong) and tonight they're airing an episode filmed entirely in downtown Alexandria, where I used to hang out a lot before I got married. And by a lot I mean every night. And by hang out I mean got really, really shitfaced all the time. And this one time, I went to my senior prom down there.

I'm not sure I'll watch because I mean, I live here? I can go to these places every day if I really felt like it? And also, those places are kind of sad for me, in the way your childhood home or first car is sad. What I have now is terrific, and much better, but sure I miss hanging out downtown! I miss some of the people I hung out with, I miss all the laughter and good stories. I miss these places. But that's okay, it's better that way.

(HAHA I just realized I could be SUPER POETIC and write about my ghosts in downtown Alexandria, but no. I am not that person, thank you, Jesus.)

That being said, tune in, because they are showing:

The Diamond Grill:

- where an old friend first introduced me to Shiraz.
- where my mother got drunk before coming down the street to confront a bunch of lesbians at a bar (one day I will have to tell that story)
- where we used to order really expensive appetizers because they would deliver it to us at the bar (amazing)
- where I once got lost trying to find the bathroom

The Hotel Bentley:

- where I went for my senior prom.
- where I sat in the lobby by the Christmas tree, drunk
- where they didn't lock the conference rooms at night, begging for shenanigans (and got them)

Finnegans Wake:

- where one of my good buddies got married. (she walked down the aisle to Prince, y'all)
- where I first met Will (but didn't really care at the time)
- where I spent St. Patrick's Day (starting at 1 PM) when someone took that lovely photo of him and I first noticed him.
- where we went on our first official date.
- where I met a lot of other douchebags, to be honest.
- and a lot of really neat people.
- where I used to go for Drama Free Thursdays with Laura and Nicole.
- where I drank a lot of "deritas"
- and a lot of vodka tonics
- and vodka and sprites
- and lemon drops
- and Irish car bombs
- and a lot of skinny black bitches
- and just drank a lot in general.
- where I used to go every day after work to meet Derek after Ray's closed.
- where one of my best friends got kicked out.
- where I kind of stood up for her.
- where I held another friend's drink while she may have hit some other girl. I can't remember. I just remember holding onto that drink.
- where I learned a whole lot of lessons about shitty and good people, and about myself. Yes, in a bar.

I don't have any pictures of the first two places (I do have prom pictures, but let's keep those safely hidden!), but here are some of the highlights of my time at the pub:

(The first time I met Will - that is him hiding behind me, with our buddy Trey and Marc of the infamous Weasley twins in front. I would not have even remembered him there if there hadn't been photographic evidence.)

(our first date - proof that we are all class)

(just your average pub wedding with some kids from Alexandria)

(Sorry I got drunk at your wedding, Amber. But it was in a bar.)

(Maybe my favorite picture of all time ever? Margarita night. Every night.)

that sweet boy you all like

2011-02-17T16:18:00.001-08:00

Will has, as a teenager:

- broken into his high school at night (several times; no good reason given)

- hopped trains (my fav)

- shaved his head on a dare (will not show me picture)

- smashed innocent mailboxes with a baseball bat (no admission to how many times; showed a bit of guilt when I told him story of my great-grandmother's many, many mailboxes)

But he also:

- won many baseball trophies which I'm sure are good for something.

- ignored girls while committing all this tomfoolery.

- had a precious gap between his front teeth until he was 17.

prep

2011-02-15T09:19:00.000-08:00

At noon today, Will is driving back home to meet with a lady and give her some money so we can rent a 10 x 10 storage unit.

We are both really happy to have a place to put extra stuff (seasonal decorations, rarely used cake pans, winter clothes, action figures, baseball cards, CDs, that over-the-toilet cabinet thing I bought that doesn't fit over our tall toilets that I hope to use in the new house whenever that will happen) and super super glad we were able to get one near the house.

This is, actually, scarily, oh-God, the first step we are taking in getting ready for a bundle of what-the-fuck-are-we-doing.

It means I get to clean out a lot of space, haul all unneeded items to storage, decide what room will belong to a baby (and for Christ's sweet sake, let's oil the hinges on the door) and start to panic. Because I didn't want to do all of that while I was pregnant, right? Except panic. And wait for Disneyworld! And have a drink or two or twelve!

I really don't want this to be a blog-about-thinking-about-starting-a-family but it's haaaard. Because babies are making me mushy right now.

And because after filling up our little storage unit and hob-knobbing with Mickey, that's my next big project. And I really, really, really love projects.

(PS we're spending a weekend somewhere in May for our anniversary...right now we're looking at Memphis. Any suggestions on what to do there? Don't say Graceland, we both want to see it again anyway!)

my picture-heavy valentine

2011-02-14T06:02:00.000-08:00

happy valentine's day to this dude

who is very gorgeous

and very sweet

and who has delicious eye squints, especially when he's had enough shenanigans.

(and looks hot soaking wet at an amustment park, yes?)

happy valetine's day to the boy who makes me laugh

who looks at me like this

who hangs out with my grandma

who once gave me a ring but didn't get down on bended knee because he has a "bum" one

and who did this with me! that's huge.

happy valentine's day to my disheveled hoonymooner

my make-believe groundhog

my cat-napper

and the best uncle there is.

happy valentine's day to my dominoes partner

the most beautiful set of eyes i know

and the boy who really wants to be friends with the horse next door.

happy valentine's day to my best friend and my husband and the love-of-my-life, who puts up with me and hangs out with me and does it all like a champ. happy valentine's day to the boy who finally made me say "who?" about all those other dudes. you blow 'em out of the water, patrick bateman. (he just wants to fit in)

happy valentine's day to tom, from dolores. i'm glad someone decided to take this picture, a long time ago (four years ago in march), and then didn't delete it when they gave my camera back. it worked out well for me, didn't it?

things i miss about spring (today)

2011-02-10T13:43:00.000-08:00

(ice in the trees this past weekend)

fresh zucchini for bread
the smell of bleach from cleaning off the porch
the smell of my husband after mowing the grass
taking walks, the smell of asphalt
sweet clover
gumballs
baseball
rolling up my sleeves and getting some sun while i'm fishing
talking to my dad while he ties the hooks on
taking walks
sitting outside at harry's (i need to just go so i can stop thinking about pronto pups) sharing fries
sweating (seriously)
crickets and bullfrogs outside my window
fried green tomatoes
easter dinner
a reason to do my toenails
mixed pots
hummingbirds
honey bees!
mulberries and mulberry pie
sweet tea and real lemonade
mixed pots
potting soil
blowing bubbles outside with curt
fresh cut flowers all over my house
(daffodils, dogwoods, bridal veil, sasanqua, lily of the valley, wisteria, dianthus, geraniums, roses, gerbera daisies, little sweet faced torenia, million bells, bacopa, bright ivy growing back from frost)
oh and searching for peach colored salvia and verbena - where did janet always find it?
warm toes
sweet faced baby cows in the sun

(geranium from last year)

My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I’m with.

If you’re not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity. My words
tangle and knot up.

How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.

When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can’t hope.

The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.

Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back to you.

(I am, unfortunately for you all, on a Rumi kick again. I just love that last line so much.)

the dreaded valentine's day

2011-02-09T08:09:00.000-08:00

Last night I dreamed about this kid I went to elementary school with, my best friend's cousin. Who ended up working for my parents a few years ago. Who gracefully maneuvered himself around my mother's attempts to hook us up. Who turned out to be gay. Anyway, we went to some farm and ate fresh peach ice cream and looked at kittens and lambs and it was all very friendly and weird.

Meanwhile, back in real life:

One of my favorite customers came in my office to hand me his check ("Better late than never, right?") and I always joke with him, asking him to please buy a whirlpool tub (he's an HVAC guy, not a builder). He always tells me no, in some joking way, but today he told me "Well, maybe in a couple of years. I'm planning to build by then." Knowing he had built a house not too, too long ago, I showed interest. He said, "Yeah, finally got rid of my second wife. Looking for my third. Bad luck to move a new one in the other one's house."

Hmm.

Anyway, point (of the post, not of that story): what do y'all for for Valentine's Day? I always storm Will with ideas, points (he still hasn't figured out that I'm not a big fan of roses from a florist), etc. and then ten minutes later I break down and say no, we aren't doing shit. It's a stupid holiday made to make assholes spend money. I don't need flowers that will die or more perfume and I definitely don't need an entire box of chocolates to myself, and the last thing on earth I ever want to do is go out to eat on Valentine's Day, standing in line with 20 other couples to eat sub-par food in an overpriced restaurant while strangers make googly eyes at one another the next table over. Shit!

That just happened this morning. I spoke very fast: I don't like roses, maybe we could just do cards, how much are you spending because I don't want to get you too much or too little, you've known me long enough now you know what I like to do and eat and what kind of jewelry and perfume I like, call your mama, call my mama, they can help you, I don't like roses, but that's not meant to offend you.

Will: Oh, well, I thought everyone liked roses. Didn't you just buy perfume? I'm not calling my mom, I want to do this on my own.

Aren't you sweet! I'm going to the post office and the bank.

When I came back, more fast talking: Will, listen. Let's just go to Harry's for supper and I'll make us a tiny cake and we'll spend all night snuggled up watching Arrested Development. It's a stupid holiday. We just spent a ton on Christmas, I love you every day, I don't need a special day just to love you. It's dumb. I want to go to Harry's.

Will: One year we went to McDonald's.

We were both sick.

Will: Yes, that's right. (Sometimes my husband talks like that, like normal, Southern, casual people don't talk. I suppose, yes, that's right, did you know?)

So. Harry's! (For those of you who don't know, Harry's is a horrible filthy local place that is kind of old: my parents used to go there on dates. They sell fried corn dogs and greasy burgers and perfect, perfect french fries. The owner is rude and mean and it is possibly the most wonderful, unromantic place in the world. Also, you eat in your car.)

No. We need to do something. I want to get you something. We'll go to Verona's.

We can't go to Verona's! It's the hottest new restaurant in town! It's ranked number five on urbanspoon.com! It will be packed!

Do you ever listen to yourself talk? Hottest new restaurant in town? Really? Really? (This is an impression of a wrestler he does. Disturbing.)

Can't we just -

No. We need to keep the romance alive.

My turn: Really? Really? (same wrestler. more disturbing) You're taking me to Lucille's for lunch. What's more romantic than that?

Making you wait in line at Verona's. We'll see.

So. So.

I thought about a hot-dog-movie-date (exactly what it sounds like - you go to the movies, you eat hot dogs), but no movies are coming out we want to see. I thought about cooking a huge dinner, but I do that pretty often anyway.

Really, how do y'all celebrate? Do you? I just don't like doing the cliche dress up and go to dinner at some dumb restaurant thing. I don't even...ok, outside of decorating my house in PINK and HEARTS, I'm not even sure I like Valentine's Day. It's an ignorant little holiday, isn't it?

Will and I are not really romantic people. We mostly wrestle and punch one another and call each other horrible names (he likes to call me stupid, because he knows that gets to me, and I like to call him cocksocker and shithead, because come on! I mean, those are great, and I fight dirtier than he does.) But sometimes, like last night, out of the blue, he'll pull me to him (I hate to snuggle at night) and give me a smooch and tell me how much I mean to him. That's better than any old flowers, if you ask me.

i'm so lonesome i could blog

2011-02-07T09:46:00.000-08:00

i was just about two seconds away from deleting this blog. and then i decided to password protect it. and then i thought fuck it, i'll just write.

i am blue today. that is really the only word i can think of. i don't like when people say "i am depressed today" (no you aren't, not for one day and one day only) and i'm not really sad, i'm just blue. and i'm lonesome.

i think everyone knows i'm a weirdo extrovert people person, right? so i don't know if i just haven't met my human contact quota for the season or if it's just the shitty weather that has got me down, but i am jonesin' hard for some face time with someone. anyone. well, girlfriends, i guess. i have will, and that's awesome, but there's only so many times you can giggle over jareth cutestory together or patiently explain which icing spatula you need.

maybe what i'm describing is cabin fever?

because yes, when it's warm i can:

shop for plants, and then i don't need people (if it's warm enough)
go to natchez, hopefully with christy
take walks with christy
do other things, i guess with christy?

maybe it's not cabin fever? i just would like a word for this empty, achy feeling in my chest today.

(white people problems): i used to have a pretty large network of friends, and even if i was only close to a couple of them, i always had someone calling/emailing/texting me. the other day i sent an email to a friend and she kind of blew me off? which, you know, hurt. because when she sees me in person she waxes poetic about me and how much she has missed me and how we should hang out every day for the rest of our lives.

so...maybe...be more approachable?

i know i did this to myself (that doesn't sound right?) because i chose to get married to my dude, and i think that was a faaaantastic decision, but i don't know. you see, my husband has two friends. these two friends live in another city. so will doesn't ever really leave the house unless it's to play a sport. if i want to hang out with my friends, i have to leave him behind, and that makes me sad, too.

he tells me to bring my friends over if i want, but that seems strange to me. i've been to friends' houses where i was hanging out and creepy-significant-other was sitting in the next room being...well, creepy. (not that will is creepy! he's just...not...the most social guy i've ever known, you know what i mean? and ok, he's creepy, but that's why i married him)

i would like a cup of coffee or a jog or an art exhibit or a cup of coffee or a road trip or a cup of coffee? with a lady. and i'm nervous because soon i will be pregnant lady and hoo boy, if i thought just lady-ladies were hard to find? imagine trying to find a pregnant one. and then a mommy-friend.

i feel isolated, i guess. in my old(er) age.

this too shall pass.

allow me to freak out

2011-02-01T11:37:00.000-08:00

Taking applications for hand-holder. Apply in comments.

I think I put on a pretty brave front in the face of adulthood. It's no secret I was taken care of (and still am) by my super generous parents. They have tried to teach me about budgeting and being a grown-up but I am really fidgety and didn't always listen. Sorry, folks.

The thing is, it didn't happen slowly - it's all happening at once. This year. We are about to buy a large piece of land. Hopefully start a family. Hopefully sell our house, so we can start building. And we both agreed we need a small SUV before vacation in April and babytime. We both drive very small cars (a Mustang and an Accord) and I'm pretty sure a car seat won't fit in mine. But they're both paid off, which is a luxury I am really enjoying.

I'm just really nervous about money. So I'm writing it here in hopes it will make me feel less antsy.

We make good money. Will makes about as twice as much as I do, but a good chunk of that is a car allowance that he doesn't use. So we can say goodbye to that once we buy a new vehicle. And I can look at the amount on paper and think holy shit, we are doing good, but it in no way matches what is in the bank, and that pisses me off. I know where mine goes - fucking Visa (AND IT IS GETTING CUT UP, I DO NOT CARE WHAT WILL SAYS, even though everyone had a nice Christmas) and my new laptop (I am not sorry for that purchase, though).

As soon as Visa is paid off, I'm going to try and put a couple hundred in savings every month, and Will puts in quite a bit more. He just forgets, but I don't want to remind him, because that seems like nagging or begging to me. I don't like asking people for money, even if it's for OUR savings account for OUR land that he WANTS to put money in. I'm weird like that. I'm nobody's charity case, dammit. Not even my husband's.

Our goal is to get a new car (new to us) and pay it off as fast as possible. But before we even talked about a new car, our goal was to purchase the land (I am so in love with this piece of land and I hope I never ever regret buying it...I feel like that weirdo incest novel by Phillipa Gregory over here, only I don't have a horse to ride around and check on my peasants, what a shame) and pay it off as fast as possible.

That's...wait, how much do used cars cost? I don't know. That's bugging me. I need a figure. How much do babies cost? Who knows. WHO KNOWS. Not this girl.

So I can't plan. And. It's driving me crazy.

(It drives Will crazy when I start sentences with conjunctions in e-mails)

Suddenly I feel guilty about things - $50 for a haircut, buying fresh fruit in the middle of winter instead of frozen, buying more expensive cuts of meat, or going out to eat for lunch twice a week. I feel guilty for buying expensive lipstick at Sephora instead of Cover Girl. I feel guilty for our Netflix subscription. I feel so guilty about spending $40 on a bottle of perfume (even though it's regularly $120 and I happened to find it on Ebay) that I could sit here and cry. I'm guilty. I feel like if we fail, it's my fault. I'm the spender in this family. I'm the one who controls the bills, too, and decides what we eat or buy. And I have fairly expensive tastes for a little girl from backwoods Louisiana.

There are two things, though, that I have wanted practically all my life: a gorgeous piece of land in the country, and a house that I designed and decorated and watched go up. And now, for the past year or so, a kid has been added to that list.

And a greenhouse, but I'm thinking it'll be another decade before that happens, honestly.

And that breaks my heart, but right now I want my land. And I want to put a house on it, worthy of summer parties and cold winter days by the fire. And I want kids running around that house and

this kind of thing, these thoughts, these memories that aren't even made yet, make me cry.

So, to recap: we are not broke, not yet, but I'm nervous. I'm guilty. I'm crazy. I'm worried. I want someone to hold my hand. I sometimes don't want to be in charge of this operation, even if I know the women in my family are always in charge of these types of things. Watching mama pay bills and balance their check book and plan a grocery list and summer vacations and Christmas dinners and fuck all never looked this difficult, did it? And now I know it's the hardest job of all.

P.S. This did not help one bit. Sometimes blogging is for the birds.

backed up

2011-01-30T16:26:00.000-08:00

i can't stop listening to this song. well, the whole album, but this song the last couple of days. i wish the video weren't so...stupid. i basically hate all music videos ever.

1.21 - post office, as promised

1.22 - i think she thinks i can't see her

1.23 - blurry hubby getting ready to go play ball

1.24 - lady katherine anne lancaster

1.25 - new mirror at work

1.26 - a really gigantic cat.

1.27 - cockeyed rooster (for amber)

1.28 - why i sometimes call will mickey

1.29 - my bracelet (and i cheated - this was taken today)

1.30 - dirty mirror, cluttered room, open closet, and me, before a very tiring day in mamou and ville platte.

Golf is a good walk spoiled. - Mark Twain

2011-01-28T06:30:00.000-08:00

Do you, by chance, date a golfer? Or maybe you're married to one? Isn't it the most infuriating thing ever?

(not actual golf. but actual golf grip.)

Here is the thing about golf. When you desperately want some alone time, or to go out with a girlfriend for a lunch without feeling like you're abandoning your golfer, there is no golf - it rains, or the other golfers don't want to play with your little golfer, leaving him sad and alone in front of the television (watching golf).

But if seeing your little golfer so defeated makes you blue, don't bother asking him if he'd like a day trip together. Don't plan on spending the day with him. Golf will show up. When you decide you actually do want to spend time with your golfer, he will pull a game from his ass, or just decide to go to the driving range with some sweet tunes (Van Halen, really?) on his iPod and leave you behind to turn off the TV.

I'm really just bitching - because there is no Saturday too sacred, nothing but rain will keep my golfer off of the golf course. And when it rains, he stays home in his sweats and pouts about it (okay, broods). Sunday is our day, but even that is cut short so he can leave to go play basketball in the early evening.

Sometimes a girl wants to bore you to death in antebellum homes, you know? Sometimes a girl wants to make you look at dainty teacups in gift shops on the other side of the Mississippi River. How can golf be better than that?

we got high in the park

2011-01-26T08:40:00.001-08:00

things I would like to remember:

that rooster is cockeyed

2011-01-24T11:52:00.000-08:00

Compromise: I will turn on comments on picture only posts because I'm not exactly a photographer, so comments are pointless. I know my cats are adorable, I know my house is cozy, I know my yard is scraggly. I'm just going to keep showing them to you, I guess. I did try and branch out and I took a picture of the post office (odd, maybe) and I felt really, really uncomfortable doing it. Which is why the photo is at such a strange angle - I was ducked down in my car seat holding the camera up hoping my grandpa didn't pass wondering what the hell I was doing snapping photos of our post office.

The picture is at home on my laptop - I will probably include it as part of my 365 since that story just made me chuckle.

I just realized half of the time I don't capitalize correctly and the other half I do. I wonder what part of my emotional state dictates that?

This weekend I spent a lot of time in bed aching and finally, for the first time ever, watching Dexter.

One: I love Dexter. Did someone tell me about this show and I brushed them off? Surely someone told me about this show, to my face, in an in-depth conversation? How did I miss this?

Two: Holy shit do I hurt. I don't know why? Saturday morning, I think, or Friday night (I really can't remember) my legs started to ache. I thought maybe it was another cold-type-thing we've all been getting, but I knew it didn't feel quite the same. My legs just ached. It started in my calves and by that night my thighs were hurting. Sunday morning it was up to my behind. Sunday afternoon, my behind was included. Sunday night, it had moved up to my lower back. Today - the ouchie includes all previously mentioned body parts plus my upper back, stopping right between my should blades, except, well, now my neck is twinging a bit, so. So. The only way I can describe it is...the way it felt when I had a slipped disc in my back once because of a wreck. Maybe I did something to my back to do this? Like picking up a two year old?

But now my right leg feels like I have a shin splint, only I haven't really been running lately. Mid-last week was the last time I ran, and that was only a very little bit.

So - let's assume for a second it is, in fact, my good ol' inflamed disc coming back to haunt me - is it possible for both legs to hurt? I know anything connected to the nerve around the disc can hurt, but does that nerve branch off to both legs? Does that make sense? I'm not exactly a fucking doctor here. It does not hurt when I walk or stand up, just when I sit and hoo boy when I lay down. Like wake up at midnight and at one and three am hurt hurt hurt.

The more I talk about it the more I've convinced myself I just have a slipped disc, so that's good! Man, I'm getting old.

It is still winter, but, but - has anyone else been watching their spring social calendar sloooowly fill? We're going to New Orleans in March to watch a basketball game, have a big trip in April with the family, and a friend just called to see what weekends Will and I are free in April for her bachelorette party and the fiance's bachelor party, then in May they get married. (Mike and Cat, for those of you keeping tabs)

Oh yeah, and there's that baby thing.

Spring is going to be busy. Which is good, because winter just drags it's ass, doesn't it?

My boss hung a enormous mirror behind me so every time I get up I freak out because someone's looking at me. We also hung up a huge clock and some weird iron things and wall sconces. We bought fake fruit and filled a bowl with it, put up some fake plants, and we bought a HUGE CERAMIC ROOSTER. My showroom looks...different.

Hope everyone is having an okay Monday. It's the least we could ask for.

2011-01-20T17:34:00.000-08:00

(supper!)

I have had a pretty good day. An old friend I hadn't talked to in over a year contacted me and we spent the day sending long e-mails back and forth, catching up. It feels really good to talk to someone you've known a long time after not talking to them for awhile. Forgiveness feels good. Especially when I'm the one being forgiven.

I have decided that I will never pass up dessert and coffee, should the situation present itself. And I don't mean every time we got out to eat I will order dessert and coffee, I mean at my mother-in-law's house, or if someone like...holds a gun and a pie to my head and forces me to partake. Obviously, then I'll eat it. I don't want to get shot in the head, for Pete's sake.

On the other hand, I have been trying to be good to my body. I mean, the best I can. A lazy girl from Louisiana. There aren't a lot of options around here as health stores and running buddies, and people look at you real funny if you even whisper the phrase lifestyle change, so. But I started thinking back to when I was single and felt good (ok, minus the vodka and pack-a-smokes a day) and I ate really healthy and worked out every day. I'm not going to go to the same extremes (I can't work out every day - I have a house to clean and supper to cook etc. etc.) but shit, I can do so much better. So this week I've been working on it and I've been successful. I haven't had a cup of coffee or a Diet Coke in the past four days (I'm tired of being addicted to caffeine - four cups of coffee, 2-3 DCs a day is not on) and I've felt okay about it because I've also upped all the good stuff I've deprived my body of for so long - lots of leafy greens and good fruits and 8+ glasses of water a day. I feel fucking great, to be honest.

I keep asking myself (getting ready for baby-making), would I give that to an infant? before I eat something. Because I want a baby to have a healthy place to grow. And I'll probably be the woman eating a gallon of ice cream poured over a bucket of fried chicken every day until I deliver, but I can tell myself now that I'm doing good.

I did make a loaf of honey wheat bread yesterday and I've already eaten half the load by myself. That was a BAD IDEA to make it. But it's so freakin' good I can't keep it out of my mouth. And it keeps me away from the cookies and the Chinese food leftovers my mother-in-law dropped of to Will at work.

Oh, that's another obstacle. Will. I have to feed him, too, you know, and he's not into the health thing. Will is probably going to have a heart attack at the age of 45, the way he eats, but I can't convince him to buckle up and do better. So I'm constantly having to find ways to feed us both and it's nerve wracking. How do you guys balance that if you have the same problem? Without making two different suppers? Or making frozen pizzas every night, ha.

I am rambling.

So today at Wendy's (great segue, right? Will ate there - I had already eaten a leftover veggie sub and just joined him for company), I sat down while Will went up to the counter to order. Across from me was a set of grandparents and their little grandson, he was about 4 years old. I caught his eye and he stared at me for a second and I smiled at him and no sooner had the corners of my mouth inched up he hollered to his grandmother "That girl stole your jacket!"

That little shit.

We weren't even wearing vaguely similar things - she had on a windbreaker and I had on a sweater coat. She told him to hush, I gave him the evil eye (heh), and peace was restored. He kept trying to look at me, but I ignored him.

And ate three french fries.

(Also, do y'all ever feel like turning comments off? I think like three people comment here but sometimes I just want it to feel more like a diary and less like oh-they-commented-because-they-feel-they-have-to. You do not. There is no pressure here. Pretend you were digging through my nightstand for a pen and you found this and it's a big secret. I really don't mind.)

vain little samson

2011-01-19T20:07:00.001-08:00

a story in pictures or: making up for missed days

2011-01-18T15:43:00.000-08:00

Here is my little catch-all board in my kitchen. It's cute, right? It's covered in things I love, and some very crafty thumbtacks from various Etsy shops. I really love adorable thumbtacks.

It's on the wall over my little red cart that holds my candy apple red mixer. I really love my mixer.

(that's an old picture)

My mixer can do things like make dough for five dozen cookies at a time. Or three cake mixes. Or three loaves of bread. Whatever. It can cut in butter. That's really important. Not as important as the cookies though.

Mmmm, y'all. Cookies. Cookies. Oh shit, you know who loves cookies?

This dude, here, the one quizzing himself on sports trivia. No really, that is exactly what he is doing:

And waiting for cookies. Waiting while I mix the cookies. In my mixer. Under that board. With the thumbtacks. Mmm, cookies.

PS:

This is the disapproving look my husband has when he bites into a precious little thumbtack baked into a cookie and tries to chew it.

Mmmm, cookies.

cheating

2011-01-17T16:27:00.000-08:00

did y'all enjoy your break from constant updates? good, me too. i did not take pictures today and i am running out of things to take pictures of in my house. bowls of oranges and dismantled vacuum robots are not very i interesting or pretty.

here are some old pictures, picked at random from my flickr stream.

i love this picture. this may be my favorite wedding picture even though it's not of my wedding? this is the first time i tried on that dress, unaware that it was going to be my dress. i was just having a good time. also, i am totally going to get skin cancer.

my favorite picture of curt and i.

crazy people.

i do not feel good mentally.

oh and:

TGIMFF

2011-01-14T20:12:00.000-08:00

a long time ago emmy left a comment saying something about i don't post a lot of pictures of my face. so i have tried to fix that, i really have. it just makes me nervous - for being as vain as a peacock, i'm not always that fond of my face, you know? you know.

anyway, my camera traveled to work with me again today. we have to take a picture every year to send to our home office so they can hang it up. we finally got around to it today.

maybe i shouldn't be posting pictures of work people online? i don't know. anyway, l to r (by nickname only!): fred, cicero, unc, me (princess? regina? short stuff? lil' mama? monkey nuts? it's hard being the only lady), t-landry, cat squirrel.

will took that for us. some of us call him sugar plum. at work. honest.

and will took one of me later:

and i like it because you can see how my teeth stick out a bit and make me look goofy sometimes from the side. and because my husband never ever grabs the camera. and honestly? that looks like a picture that a kid could look at later and think my mama was pretty, wasn't she?

happy weekend!

the pipe

2011-01-13T16:49:00.000-08:00

so this one time i came into work and someone had smeared feces on my front door. so i made up this sign and i hung it up, locked the door, and have only opened it since to feed a squirrel. if someone complains i tell them my shit story and they shut up real quick.

suffice to say, i do not like shit on doors. or cleaning the showroom. or fixing my hair.

2011-01-12T19:38:00.001-08:00

welcome to the bird room.

not for peeps (ha!) who find fake fat feathered friends frightening.

(did i just write that?)

we are those people

2011-01-11T18:48:00.000-08:00

I was going to blog about

1. a conversation Will and I had that made me LOL (the title here is from him)

2. my sudden worries about being ex-bulimic and ex-depressed and how putting a HUMAN BEING in my body could really fuck shit up

3. something else? I don't really know.

But here are some pictures.

I know, with the cats, right? But I loves her. That's Battlecat, for those who aren't sure which orange demon I'm displaying.

That is full of apple pie.

That's my dad! Doing stuff. In my house. I loves him, too.

last second

2011-01-10T20:01:00.001-08:00

Niblet really, really likes all things mom's bathroom.

this right here is my new hairdo

2011-01-09T16:11:00.000-08:00

I'm listening to Rasheeda and throwing plastic hearts all over my house, because. You know. She cracks my shit up. And I like Valentine's Day.

it's just air!

2011-01-08T14:10:00.000-08:00

One: He's sitting on my chair. Two: He's wearing my clothes. Three: His name's Remus Lupin...

I don't even know where to start this blog because I'm literally giggling while I try to type, like falling off my chair, feet scuffing the floor as I try to right myself, lunatic giggling. Because, because, because, these are hanging in front of me. On my paperwhites, for some reason. Well, for the reason that they are right in front of me:

I hate hate hate saying what I got for Christmas or any other holiday or special occasion because I find it tacky as fuuuuck but I'm making an exception here. These aren't gifts, these are...these are...better. So much better.

Um. Um. So I met my friend today for lunch and a bit of shopping. I think I've touched on my friends before, how each friend is something different to me. This friend, Pamela, is my...well, she's the friend I nerd out with, my heterosexual life partner, a very patient redheaded lady I've known since I was 9 or so. She bought me those earrings. SHE BOUGHT ME REMUS LUPIN AND SIRIUS BLACK EARRINGS.

I'm kind of speechless. I mean, obviously not, because here I am typing about them, and I could type and type and type but I WON'T but guys. Honestly. Can you even. They are. Moony and Padfoot earrings.

To put on my ears.

She also got me the Harry Potter Cookbook and I mean. She's my friend, you can't have her.

And? And? There was this makeup case that matches my purse and I wanted it, and I SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT IT because the store only had one, but I didn't, and it was gone when Will went back to buy it for Christmas, so he got me a gift card to get it online. YOU KNOW WHO BOUGHT IT?

Pamela. PAMELA BOUGHT IT FOR ME.

DO YOU SEE WHY SHE IS MY LIFE PARTNER?

Okay, whew.

Here is the real 365 picture I was going to share, before Pam unloaded a gift bag of motherfucking awesomeness into my unsuspecting lap:

That is Niblet. If I leave my bathroom door open, she will work her paw under the cabinet door until it opens enough for her to squeeze inside. Then she will nuzzle up with my bath towels and try to take a nap. I rarely rarely leave my door open for this reason (somewhere Danielle is worrying about me leaving poor Niblet in there to DIE), but I did this morning, because I was feeling bad for her because she got in trouble earlier. She usually is ready to come out before I leave and let her out, and she lets you know by...not being able to open the door. And banging against it. So. And then I have to rewash the top towel.

MOONY AND PADFOOT EARRINGS PEOPLE. I MEAN COME ON. I CAN'T.

i'm a boat captain!

2011-01-07T19:08:00.000-08:00

i feel like i cheated yesterday because the picture i posted was from my phone? oh, and it was a few months old. ha.

BUT i'm making up for it today.

that's my back yard as i'm leaving from work. which reminds me to go out to our land and see where the sun rises and sets there, and i hope hope hope it's half as pretty. and rises somewhere around where i want a back porch. (i love sunrises)

i am feeling good today! after missing three days of work, as well as eating-moving-bathing, it was good to put on clothes and wash my hair and haul my ass to work. a coworker's mama brought in a big pot of soup for us and i went to the store and bought a fudge-iced cake and a big loaf of french bread and it was a good way to go back to work! also, there was coffee. lots and lots of coffee.

then i had a great idea, and i buzzed will's office, and asked him if he wanted to run to the store after work to pick up some whipping cream and some milk and some sausages, and he said yes, and and and. well, this happened for supper:

(i always give myself the wonky waffle that comes out last)

i highly recommend this supper. it's cheap as hell, except for the pecans maybe, but those are FREE FROM MY HOUSE if you need them (please, seriously, so many pecans in my freezer) and it took me all of fifteen minutes to make. and we died so good. so good dead. is it healthy? fuck no. but i mean, sometimes a girl has to smother some carbs in syrup and whipped cream and faceplant in it. also, i haven't eaten an actual meal since monday, so. i owed it to my hips.

i was thinking tonight about kids (getting close over here, especially since we just moved up our pre-baby-making trip to the first week of april instead of the last) while i was getting out of my bath. what will there be about me that my kids will like? i mean, i bet there is something about your mom that just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, am i right? something undeniably yourmom that makes you feels safe and at peace, or if you don't have a good relationship, i don't know - maybe it breaks your heart a little. maybe it breaks your heart anyway, because you're not a baby anymore.

my mom - the morning smell of newsprint and coffee breath. celosia. a thin film of hair spray all over the bathroom. that perfume that smells like cupcakes on her - poison? her knees (that are now my knees?)

anyway, what will your kids like? what will my kids like? soft cotton nightgowns and rose perfume at night? a never-empty cake plate always on the table? red toes or my terrible singing voice? i wonder.

anyway, that's enough sentimental bullshit for now. tomorrow i have a lunch date with m-pants (greek!), and then i'm going to sit down in a bookstore with a cup of coffee and browse home decorating mags to see if there's one i like enough to subscribe to (my mom's idea, good good good). and probably sneak off to look at v-day decorations. what, i like love.

(i'm not proofreading this because i'm watching the soup. what is up with joel's hair?)

ladies

2011-01-06T19:49:00.001-08:00

no chance, you metal bastard

2011-01-05T17:27:00.000-08:00

still very sick so i did this all day. all day.

Kryten: I beg you to reconsider, Sir. Human history is resplendent with examples of such sacrifice. Remember Captain Oates: "I'm going out for a walk. I may be some time."

Rimmer: Yes, but the thing is, about Captain Oates; the thing you have to remember about Captain Oates; Captain Oates... Captain Oates was a prat. If that'd been me, I'd've stayed in the tent, whacked Scott over the head with a frozen husky, and then eaten him.

Lister: You would too, wouldn't you?

Rimmer: History, Lister, is written by the winners. How do we know that Oates went out for this legendary walk? From the only surviving document: Scott's diary. And he's hardly likely to have written down, "February the First, bludgeoned Oates to death while he slept, then scoffed him along with the last packet of instant mash." How's that going to look when he gets rescued, eh? No, much better to say, "Oates made the supreme sacrifice," while you're dabbing up his gravy with the last piece of crusty bread.

what? i like to read.

2011-01-04T16:58:00.000-08:00

On the left are all of the Harry Potter books, waiting to be reread before the last movie (minus the first one, that is in the stack on the nightstand). A Separate Peace (although I'll probably stop before I cry, like I always do) and Sybil are also getting rereads. The Secret History (which is strange so far, in the way you put an unknown candy in your mouth and are not quite sure what it tastes like, but in a good way) and The Historian (which sucks so far, in the way you are stuck in the guest room of your grandmother's house at Christmas because adults are boring) have been started but not finished. My true crime book of the moment is House of Evil.* Not even cracked open are Goodbye Tsugumi and Imperial Bedrooms. (can't wait)

Out of your line of vision (in bed with me) there is A Year with Rumi (my favorite) and The Blues Line (awesome).

*I noticed yesterday that all of my true crime books are on the bottom shelf of my bookcase. Someone remind me when we have kids and those kids start to have grabby hands that I need to move those? For some reason all my old children's book are at grown girl eye level. Thanks.

when you teach me not to stare into the sun

2011-01-03T16:13:00.000-08:00

Pale sunlight,
pale the wall.

Love moves away.
The light changes.

I need more grace
than I thought.

(Rumi)

(i'm collecting
fatherless friends -
a mourner for each age.
wondering what it feels like
to have the ground shake beneath you;
you are only fingers and harnesses and dirt.)

(decidedly not Rumi)

2011-01-02T16:18:00.000-08:00

IF I WERE PARTICIPATING in that really stupid 365 thing, this would be my picture of the day. IF I WERE. WHICH I MAY BE I DO NOT KNOW.

I hate winter. I hate winter so hard. Like, right now I am sitting here at my kitchen table (see previous picture post) wondering if my feet will ever be warm again. No, they will probably not.

And I put out these fake flowers, like, maybe good ol' mother earth would see 'em and get kind of lonesome herself and say fuck it, let's bring spring in a little early, cats.

So far, it's not working, but the sadness of the little fake orchids (I cannot grow real orchids to save.my.life.) tickled me so I had to take a quick, terrible shot of my optimism. Then I collapsed on the couch clutching the Cloraseptic.

new year

2011-01-01T18:46:00.000-08:00

holy shit guys i'm tired. am i getting will's weird illness? i might be, my throat hurts. i'll kill him.

i was thinking of doing that 365 thing that everyone does (and then never finishes - and yes i remember that i still haven't finished that weird 30-days-of-me-bullshit), but i'm not sure. either way, here are a couple of pictures from this weekend:

(obviously, you need to click on them so you can see them)

two of my favorite people ever-ever, sharing a piece of pizza on my best friend's kitchen floor.

and today! today! i took down christmas and although i love love christmas, taking it down makes me very very happy as i can put up all of my normal things (cake plates and fruit bowls and birds birds birds everywhere in bright happy spring colors and candles that don't smell like pine trees) and it was so nice to sit down at blog with a clean, de-christmased room in front of me that i took a picture.

as in, this is where i write a lot:

hope everyone is having a good start to their new year. i skipped the black eyed peas and cabbage because i was too tired/busy/sickly to go to my mama's house and partake and now i'm freaking out about it but i'm sure it will be fine. we had butter beans instead?

what does it matter

2010-12-28T16:20:00.000-08:00

my christmas was better than everyone's ever because it included my grandmother asking "what is a dildo?"

now we are coming down with something icky so i'm making a big pot of chicken noodle soup, even though it turns out neither of us are hungry.

i'm worried i'll miss the annual unpopular-kids-from-high-school-soiree and our dipping and fireworks new years eve party with our bffs.

on my way home, my ipod (on shuffle) played - in a row - waiting for somebody, the waiting, and waiting for the night. it made me laugh.

i bypassed it all (yes, even depeche mode, can you believe it) for this great song:

(this video makes me laaaaugh but then i am running a low fever)

how was your christmas?

(i love love love christmas, truly, but i'm always glad to get my house back...)

christmas traditions

2010-12-24T07:36:00.000-08:00

you've seen all these, but it sure was fun trying to find them again. Click to make them gigantic and adorable. It just never gets old to me, the sweaters and the fuzzy stubble and the putting-on-of-socks.

Today I'm making pies for tonight and Sunday, then we're going to catch a movie with my parents. Tonight we're going to his folks for our Christmas and then to midnight mass. Hope everyone is having a great holiday so far - tomorrow is the big day!

(Also - I updated over at What's for Supper, Sister? with recipes for the stuff from the Christmas supper I blogged about a couple weeks ago)

just checking in

2010-12-22T09:45:00.001-08:00

I have bits of candy cane in my hair.

We haven't been online at work for three days so I have had nothing to do.

Except eat candy canes and tug on my hair.

christmas

2010-12-17T09:50:00.000-08:00

I just spent a good few minutes pounding out an angry missive to the random strangers who have been awful to me this week – ticking off each tiny injustice on my fingers: the man who hung up on me, the lady at Target who rolled her eyes at a simple question I asked and got a “have a merry fucking Christmas” for her trouble (her jaw looked fantastic on the floor, they always do), etc. etc. because the list goes on and on and on. Merry Christmas, indeed.

THIS is what I can’t stand about the holidays. People. It’s supposed to be the time for fellowship and peace on Earth and all that horseshit, but it’s just the time for grabbing shit off the shelves and pushing people aside and being completely and pointlessly rude.

I know you are stressed out. I am also stressed out. You were most likely rude to me in line at some place, some place we both had to whip out our credit card, the one we swore we wouldn’t use. Maybe you are having the worst day or your life, but maybe I am, too.

I highlighted all that text and hit delete.

Instead:

Merry Christmas to the cashier at Target (after I switched lanes, leaving the scene of the crime) who laughed when I told her how I used to go home after working retail one Christmas to blow glitter out of my nose.

Merry Christmas to the bumbling redneck in the bookstore who seemed he desperately wanted to talk to someone while we stood in line for ages – and so I struck up a conversation with him and we passed the time laughing over the antics of his nieces and my nephew, while everyone around us huffed and puffed and acting like we were completely out of line, two strangers being friendly to one another.

Merry Christmas to the man who grabbed and handed me a handful of napkins when my latte spilled all over the sleeve of my jacket.
Merry Christmas to the woman who broke out into an impromptu dance with me in the grocery store when we couldn’t get around each other.

Merry Christmas to my boss, who bought us all lunch today from a benefit for a little girl with cancer.

Merry Christmas to the baby boy who cooed at me as I passed his perch in his mama’s shopping cart.

Merry Christmas to everyone who has taken the time out of their busy day to not be an asshole – to throw a smile my way, or at least not a scowl. Merry Christmas to anyone who humored my questions, my looks, my gestures. Merry Christmas to you, if you are not a complete and total douchebag, hell bent on ruining everyone else’s day, along with your own.

Here is the secret of me: if you are nice to me, I will be nice back to you tenfold. I will probably try and give you a a bear hug. If you are rude to me, I will be rude back to you, and then I will try to time my purchasing to where we both end up in the parking lot at the same time (alas, your cashier was quicker than mine).

If you are ambivalent, I will be nice to you first. All you have to do – and this is super, super easy – is be nice back.
So, for Christmas this year, I want you all to go out and be nice to someone. They probably don’t want to run you over with their car in a parking lot, but they will.

And then after all this blows over, we can get roaringly pissed at the end of the month and go back to acting normal.

she hates the beatles, but likes the stones

2010-12-15T17:38:00.000-08:00

sorry about all the videos lately, basically all i've been doing lately is listening to lots and lots of music and staring off into space while my fingers hover over the keyboard and then i'll sip some whiskey and write random sentences about people who don't exist who are very unhappy and i try to make them happy and it all just turns into run-on sentences. it's winter, y'all!

so, um, here are two more videos. i burned some cds for a blog friend, jordan, the other day, and i finally narrowed it down to FOUR cds. i just listen to so much fucking music. and i was explaining to her that i still have every cd i had in high school. and the cassette tapes before that, that i've since purchased on itunes. so, i have thousands and thousands of songs at my fingertips and they're all the best songs! and the best albums! by the best bands! and it's overwhelming. and they all have memories and thoughts and things attached to them, visceral and real. (i hate the word visceral, but there you are. is it not the most overused word ever?)

i lose my mind in winter and summer, but i can handle it in winter. in winter it doesn't want to go anywhere, it just wants to fester. it's so cute!

this first one is one of my favorite songs ever ever. and you have to listen to the whole thing because it just gets better and better with each passing note. i may have posted this before? if so, i'm not at all sorry.

it makes me think of that short lived time before i met will where i was still lonely, in my own way, but not painfully so - and i was starting to ease into being single, kind of starting to almost feel my heart harden...

...and then some drunk guy took a picture of some silly boy at a party while i went home with someone else and then that silly boy told me his name was tom and then we listened to the gordon lightfoot album and then there was that one night he stood on my porch wrapped in a blanket holding a glass of crown while a biker died right in the driveway and the silly boy said hmmm, that's a bad day.

and he holds my hand and puts me in headlocks and sits by me and tells me i'm hot and that i'm his best friend and that if i died he wouldn't get remarried because he really couldn't be bothered, could he?

oh and this one? this one? does anybody else remember the 90s, holy shit? and i mean, really remember them and i don't mean the fucking late 90s when suddenly everything ever went wrong, somehow, after so much motherfucking awesomeness, i mean the early 90s when things were starting to form in your brain as totally cool or complete shit and you were sad because you were TECHNICALLY a teenager only you weren't OLD enough to get IN on that fucking awesome action, right? and you were so jealous. only don't be jealous now, because all the people who were old enough to really, really enjoy the early 90s are like ten years older than you NOW, which is not nearly as lucky as being ten years older than you THEN. this was on a compilation cd called home alive: the art of self defense and i have to say most of the set was complete shit, but there were some really good songs on there (like one from a band called catfood* that completely disappeared and i have to wonder if they didn't make it far because the inside of their cd was shockingly sapphic - like, even i was a little taken aback - or if they really, really sucked and i only liked that one song and that was only because my sister could play it on guitar pretty well and i knew all the words and could sing it in a way i suspected to be on key).

i listened to those cds constantly on our family vacation to yellowstone, the summer before i turned 15.

guys. GUYS. I WAS 14. which means that was 14 years ago. which makes me...oh, i don't know, OLD.

THIS SONG reminds me of burned mountains and number two pencils and that weird flowering herbs smell from bath and body works and cold showers in tiny cabins and wondering why the FUCK i was 14 FUCKING years old when things were so cool. perhaps this is when i started getting so ANGRY at the unfairness of it all.

and it still makes me get up and dance. and it means a lot more to me now that i'm older and embody most of the lyrics. basically all except the bit about flowers. i quite like flowers.

*seriously, kendra, google them.

soundtrack

2010-12-11T09:27:00.000-08:00

I was feeling sentimental yesterday while I was driving home, so I pulled up my wedding playlist on my iPod, which I haven't listened to since...oh, our wedding day? I had kind of forgotten how awesome the whole thing was.

Like, the weirdo string quintet of college students we had play at the ceremony.

And how they had to help me out-Southern everyone ever on that day, when they learned to play Tara's theme from Gone with the Wind:

(that music makes me cry, but it did before the wedding, so)

Or our bizarre choice for first dance:

We're still wondering if anyone got that we were making a baseball reference.

Hope everyone is having a great weekend!

christmas with friends 2010

2010-12-08T19:15:00.000-08:00

The Paddie and Gurganus Christmas Supper of 2010:

(planning)

(new location this year, oh ho ho!)

Blue Cheese and Roasted Red Pepper Spread (to be eaten while we cook and play Nancy Drew PC games)
Pot Roast (this is tradition)
Mashed Potatoes and Gravy (mine, natch) (I totally typed Mashed Potatoes and Gacy on the first try)
Creamed Spinach Casserole (from The Book, 2010 birthday edition)
Sweet Potato Casserole (Christy's)
Corn Pudding (I made this once? Okay?)
Some form of frozen dinner rolls because you have to be a lazy ass somewhere
Cherry Cream Crumble Pie (also from The Book)

Hot chocolate pots and Nancy Drew totes and chocolates shavings and goodie baskets will follow, only don't tell the pals!

Here are some more pictures from around our house:

(lights on)

(lights off)

(such sad garland)

remix

2010-12-08T11:04:00.001-08:00

sitting in captain d's (um) i say ok listen you - i'm trying not to cry because they're playing ol' blue eyes and i start thinking about telling my kids about him and will's happily chewing and ignoring my questionable facial expression (sad? hopeful? confused?) and so i ask him

the spring?

ooooor

the fall, like we initially planned?

and he says oh well hmmmm let's make it spring bite chew chew and then

i go in for a high five

and he goes in for a fist bump

so he punches me in the wrist

and i think of the curl of little ears

and so there's that...

ummm

2010-12-07T17:05:00.001-08:00

mommy and battlecat

presents!

panic

2010-12-06T09:38:00.000-08:00

So, I've foolishly been telling people as soon as we get back from vacation next spring, we'll start trying to have a baby.

That. is. a little over four months away.

Four months.

Um.

Where did this year go? Or, for that matter, my entire life? What if I'm not ready? What if my inclination to sob openly at the sight of smiling baby or a happy grade schooler is, in fact, not an indication that my ovaries are ready to be all up and at 'em? What if I am just really soft-hearted for kids in TV commercials or I'm just pleased there is at least one child in the entire world who knows how to behave in the line at Target on a Tuesday afternoon? What if?

What if Will only likes Curt's tantrums because they aren't directed at him, ever, because they are partners in weird, wrestling, boy-crime? What if I vomit on my own child the first time it vomits? (I probably will)

What if I have a baby and it grows up to really, really, really like commas and it misuses them blatantly?

This is where I would like to just sit back and say "fuck, fuck, fuck," only, I'm not sure planning-mothers-to-be are allowed to use that word so excessively? But I'm so good at it.

Four months is not even enough time to plan a trip or get stinking drunk enough to say yes this is a good idea or to get a really terrible haircut and then grow it or figure out why the two spare bedrooms are so fucking cold all of the time or pick up smoking just so you can quit or or or or.

I just assumed that when I set these limits on myself, my brain would have read the list, checked in, and been okay.

My brain has tricked me again.

christmas

2010-11-28T14:54:00.001-08:00

somebody likes the tree!

good night

2010-11-26T19:27:00.001-08:00

thoughts that i'll regret later on

2010-11-26T18:30:00.000-08:00

Let's be REALLY HONEST. Will says I should TALK about it, and while this is not what he meant, this is what I feel like doing. I'm hurt beyond belief, I'm angry. I'm thinking back over twenty-nine years of every little injustice (I know this isn't healthy), every little slight, and every little hurt. (For being second, second best - let's not deny the obvious).

I have spent the majority of the past six hours randomly crying. I have done other things: put up clothes, cleaned the kitchen, took a bath, etc. etc. while crying. It was fun.

I just want to make it very, very, very clear to people that I am going to be a good mother. What I mean by this is - good for my children. I don't have to be a good mother for anyone else.

I may be a little overbearing, I may be a little overprotective, but I will be good. I will make stupid fucking mistakes (just like every mother), but I will learn from them and move on.

There are only so many little jabs a person can take (oh, wait until you have one ad infinitum, all major holidays and get-togethers) before she snaps.

I will never make one child second best. I will never talk over her, or interrupt her, or treat her differently or value her opinion less. I will never expect more from her, or expect less! I will stop what I am doing and celebrate the smallest of victories with equal vigor for all the children I may have.

(It will not be about money, or gifts - it will be about words. I can promise you equal words.)

I will never, ever, ever say to motherless people "wait until you have one" or anything like that, because doesn't that just imply they won't be as good? And won't they be? I won't say it over and over until they snap. That is cruel and unfair.

Won't I love my babies just as much as the next mother? They'll be made just for me, and you certainly don't have to like them (since I'm told all the time what little hellions they'll be!) but don't imply I'll be unable to handle it. If I do indeed give birth to the spawn of Satan as is believed, I will do my best to raise that child.

I am not a jackass or an asshole for reaching my limit or emoting. I am not a bad person for wanting it to stop because it hurts. I'm a human being with emotions, just like you. I'm nobody's scapegoat or punching bag or the butt of a joke.

Why shouldn't people get a chance to prove themselves before they're judged?

You're allowed to get mad at me for saying what I'm thinking, that's cool. I hope you don't - I hope you think about it for a second. I'm not trying to get the last word in or piss anybody off. I guess I'm just kind of defending myself.

This is not open for discussion or comments or thoughts - here or elsewhere in the online or real world.

thanksgiving

2010-11-25T07:42:00.000-08:00

At this moment, I am thankful for my house.

I am thankful for the dishwasher that is washing all of my chocolate covered mixing bowls and utensils right now, however loud it may be.

I am thankful that I have a couch that cleans easily of cat vomit, like it was never even there, while we go on pretending Katy has the digestive tract of a cat-that-isn't-fifteen-years-old.

I'm thankful for this cute little fleece blanket my friend got me for my birthday, so I can cover my chilly legs as I sit in the wonderful hand-me-down chair given to us by my in-laws by the window and look out over my front yard...

...where I am thankful for the paint job my husband did on our porch (even if it needs a second coat...two years later).

(I am not thankful for the the sound I just heard - kind of the horn of Gondor from...that dishwasher I just mentioned)

I am thankful for this laptop I bought for myself, so I can sit in this chair by the window with a blanket over my legs and type out little stories that clear my head. Although, admittedly, I do more gazing out at the falling leaves than I do actual typing.

Oh, wait, it was the washing machine that made the noise. I'm thankful for you too, friend.

I'm thankful that I have a grandpa that I can make cakes for, even if it's nerve wracking, and all I can think of is how he was a baker in the army and wouldn't this look and taste much better if he did it?! It doesn't matter - he asked me to do it.

Of all things in my little house, I am most thankful for my husband. For fussing at me when I do stupid things (although I will continue to do them), for laughing at my stupidest jokes, for pretending to be other people with me, for taking care of the cats when I don't have time, for being cute and asking me for "canteen money," for stretching like a cat when he wakes up, for popping my toes, for keeping his shoes off the rug (mostly), for always testing the milk for me, for putting things into perspective, for maybe being a serial killer, for his unpretentious love of the macabre, and for filling up all of my empty chairs, ever.

For his head of blond hair and his squinty green eyes, and his gorgeous, gorgeous smile that I might get to see twice in our house one day. For his patience. For his unquestioning loyalty in me, even though he knows I fuck up.

For very, very rarely fucking up.

For sounding like Norm McDonald.

For marrying me and nobody else.

one more moment

2010-11-22T05:57:00.000-08:00

My heart wasn't in this...I'll come back to it later.

I had a really terrific weekend. Do you have a friend who, the more you hang out, the more you miss them? I have a friend like that. Being an adult is a tremendous burden sometimes, isn't it? I miss the old days. Like, sometimes it takes my breath away.

I keep thinking maybe having children will fix that? Maybe I can watch another person creating their own "old days" and magical little adventures and I can let mine go more easily? That's obviously not the reason I would have children, I'm just hoping that a side effect will be for my heart to stop clenching at odd moments. That's probably pretty selfish.

In that case, I hope my children are a bit less sentimental than I am. Which would make them only mostly sentimental, not batshit insane with it.

Hope everyone enjoys their Thanksgiving holiday!

My mom has already put up her Christmas tree, and my dad has already fried a turkey for us. Curt is here for the week, sister comes in Thursday, and much joy will be spread.

I will be swallowing coffee without actually tasting it and giving in.

(I am thankful I have good memories to miss, and that I can feel, even if most times I just want it to stop)

novemberish

2010-11-18T06:36:00.000-08:00

What? What's that? I have a blog? Really? Oh dear.

Day 20 – This month, in great detail

You see how I'm doing this in the middle of the month? Consider it a cop out. Consider it a I-am-so-over-this-30-day-bullshit.

This month has really flown by. Not much has happened, and if it did, I barely witnessed it.

I got my first laptop, which enabled me to spend the first half of this month propped up in bed with whiskey or hot chocolate, typing away on a story, or in a chat. Also watched the first two series of Red Dwarf again. From my bed. It's amazing. I realize now that it's not that I don't like TV...I would probably watch it 24/7 if it didn't suck so bad.

I quoted Red Dwarf a lot in various places. Two people got it. I need a RD friend.

Will was gone for a couple of nights, so I didn't sleep, giving me a week long headache that made me want to put a hammer through the back of my skull. Couldn't get the angle right, though.

I didn't put mums on my grandma's grave like I had planned. I am lazy and a bad granddaughter.

The weather has been insane - hot and cold.

I made a fig cake, my dad and uncle grilled a prime rib.

I have consistently disliked someone every day so far this month. It makes me feel bad, but what can I do about it? Stop being so...dislikeable.

I have considered quitting the internet entirely, but I have this shiny new laptop, you see.

I video chatted with my nephew for the first time in my own house! Niblet joined me.

We watched a documentary called Cropsey that should've been better, I think.

(We watch a lot more TV as it gets colder)

We had a hot dog movie date and saw Due Date. I love hot dog movie dates.

We may have gone fishing? Was that in October? I think we went fishing.

Last night Christy came over and we listened to classic Christmas music and rolled out cookie dough to make cookies shaped like cats.

We decided to spend New Years together instead of staying at home and going to bed early. We planned a dipping menu? Salsa, blue cheese dip, chicken dip, queso, and fondue. And a movie. And Jay's magnificent fireworks.

Tonight, Danielle's going to come over and help pipe chocolate whiskers on the cookies. There will be Harry Potter and whiskey and potato chowder. With a splash of lemon.

Tomorrow I'm taking the day off to take these cat cookies to a bake sale to help out my friend's cat shelter. I will pretty much do any ol' thing for cats.

Afterwards, I'll meet up with Pam and we'll see the new HP movie (at matinee prices, ooh la la). Then we'll try the new Greek restaurant. We'll hold one another and cry into our hummus. Our hearts will swell. We may draw up a suicide pact, I'm not sure.

We will probably bring up that unfortunate David Duchovny action figure. Storm in a teacup, that kind of thing. I can't go into all of our depravities, they're private things.

I'll drive home in the dark, blind as a bat.

My boss just said he was going to be "on him like hotcakes" (about a customer who owes us money). Wouldn't that be a good thing? Aren't hotcakes yummy?

This weekend I'm going to take everything out of my house and put it on blankets in the front yard. Then I'm going to fill a pressure sprayer with bleach and spray all surfaces in the empty house. Then I will hose it out and let it dry. I will then move my belongings back into the house.

I'm not really going to do that.

Oh wait, Thanksgiving. I'll eat some fried turkey with my family, and I'll make a maple cake and a chocolate cake (requested by grandpa. he is a lot like a cat, in that i will do also do any ol' thing for him).

I will teach potatoes how to swim.

I will find other obscure, outdated television shows to reference.

I'll put up our tree! I will contemplate getting a real one this year, then realize we don't have a way to get it home, and I will be sad. Because our fake tree is ugly and falling apart and makes me cry a little. And last year it was full of baby roaches.

I will mourn the ending of November, because the first weekend in December is inventory. INVENTORY. Cold, cold inventory.

dunca will

2010-11-13T18:47:00.000-08:00

So, my sister wasn't lying. My sweet, kind nephew is two. He is so fucking two, for real.

Everything is his. My toy. My bed. My monkey. My car. My pillow. My blanket. My shoes. My cake. My cookie. My juice. My chair.

The only time he hasn't argued with me this weekend about ownership of various items around the house was when I tricked him, grabbed Will, and said "MY CUH!"

(Cuh is what he calls Will...)

This afternoon I went to check on him while he was napping to find him rolling around in bed, rubbing his eyes. He squealed happily to see me and I sat down to play with him. I found Walter, his cherished stuffed monkey, and before I could hand it to him? MY WALTER! I tickled his little feet. MY SOCKS. I tickled behind his little knees. MY PANTS. Ok, I tell him, if you can't play nice, I'm going to go play with Mimi (my mom). So I stood up and started to walk away when he yelled at me No, Teta! Teta back in bed!

So I sit back down and look him in the eye. "I'll stay, but will you be nice?"

He hesitated, looked around the room, then back at me. He sighed, like I was really testing his patience. "No," he said, and started to play again.

The only thing keeping from deciding this is a good reason to not have my own kids is Will. Through all of this screeching and melting down and throwing fits, Will just chuckles and continues to try and play with Curt, find out whats wrong, what he really wants. For some reason, Will just really seems to get a kick out of being smacked in the legs and playing tug-of-war with pillows. The rest of us retreat, and Will marches onto the battlefield. It's pretty adorable.

This is for my mom:

2010-11-10T05:31:00.000-08:00

see more Memebase

she's bound to run amok

2010-11-09T17:42:00.000-08:00

2010-11-07T13:53:00.001-08:00

"what are you doing?!"

"I'm...reading?"

"but why are you in the bathroom?"

"I needed a place to sit."

...

"and I wanted to look extremely creepy."

life hardly matters here in the dark

2010-11-05T06:10:00.000-07:00

Friday friday friday!

It's kind of chilly here today. For whatever ignorant reason, I pulled my winter clothes out I think around the beginning of September...when it's still in the 90s here. So I've been going into my closet and trying not to make eye contact with sweaters. Anyway, today it's finally cold enough, so I threw on a sweater and oh! it's even cold enough to throw on a jacket.

I have a collection of corduroy blazers that would make you run away from me. It's my first step in my plan for my reincarnation - in my next life I want to be a...I don't know, a gay librarian with an impressive collection of corduroy blazers who likes to wear lipstick in the comfort of his own home (which will make him seek out a psychic who well tell him he was me in a past life, and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, won't we, sir?) I just like dressing like an old dude and wearing lipstick, I guess.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could pick our kids' genetic traits? Like, how awesome would it be if I could sit down with a specialist and say "I want her to have black hair and green eyes. And my wrists. And her daddy's smile. Ok, go." I will love my kids no matter what they look like, I just think it would be great if we could go ahead and give them the upper hand of being pretty. It would make high school a lot easier for them.

Oh, and there's this:

Day 19 – Something you regret, in great detail

Starting a blog? (oh, ha ha)

Spilling coffee on my keyboard yesterday so that I have to beat the shit out of the keyboard if I want to capitalize a letter or use the letter 'k'? (umm)

No, wait - I regret...letting people get the best of me. I regret not standing up for myself, ever. I regret not letting some people stand up for themselves.

I regret sometimes losing my mind - every time. I regret not waiting, and wanting too much, and pushing too far.

I regret the years I smoked, even though I miss smoking, and I still do it sometimes. I mean, I regret a pack a day habit.

I regret about 2/3 of what comes out of my mouth, but I just can't think while I'm speaking.

I regret second guessing a friend, because of things they've done in the past, even if they've apologized to the moon and back.

I regret that one day, sometimes.

I regret being such a lazy little shit when I was a kid, and not making better grades, and not paying more attention, and not being more popular or prettier or better.

Yesterday there was a thing going around Twitter about what you would say to your sixteen year old self. I was going to participate but everything I wanted to say to myself was absolutely hateful. So I didn't do it. I bet in ten years, I'll regret that I ever had those thoughts towards my younger self.

We need something upbeat for Friday, but dude, that's not what I'm listening to. I'm listening to this band, which is nice because they stopped making music like 11 years ago, which means they can't fuck me over now with shitty music. This was one of my favorite bands in high school. This album reminds me of Yellowstone and their second album reminds me of my dead aunt.

Happy Friday?

(there is a...cartoon penis? in this? just in case you work somewhere cartoon penii are totally off limits...like they should be?)

hateful pastries and birthdays

2010-11-04T06:06:00.000-07:00

So I promised this customer yesterday I would bring in a treat today. So last night I whipped up some of the pumpkin cupcakes I had made for our Halloween party, only last night they didn't rise. I didn't worry too much about it, plumbers aren't exactly known to be picky eaters. I carried on, a little less happy but just as determined, and made a batch of cinnamon cream cheese icing. I didn't look at my recipe, I did it from memory. Which basically means I covered my squatty little cupcakes with...butter icing? Or something? It tastes like freezer burnt butter?

Whatever, I used it. Decorated them with the 1M tip and some plain white nonpareils. Good to go. This morning they were lovely (and squatty. and buttery.) and ready to go. They survived the car ride over, and I got them out of the car in their little carrier. I stood in front of the building holding the carrier by the handle waiting for Will and...oh, you know where this is going, don't you?

Yeah, two dozen cupcakes, buttery and flat and sad, on the gritty concrete of the parking lot. Like, maybe if they had fallen in a field of wildflowers, on freshly fallen snow - maybe then I could have mustered up some courage.

No, no courage. Instead, I weighed my options and decided to have a small breakdown, won't that feel good? But I couldn't do it. Nothing came out. I just stared blankly at the cupcakes, and I could feel my bottom lip poking out, which is what I do when I'm upset but not really upset, and that pissed me off because that is something babies do and I ain't no baby. Maybe I am.

The whole time Will is watching me, ready for action. Do I need to hold her? Tell her to calm down? Chase her down the street as she runs away from it all?

But I've had this headache for like four days, non-stop (like, no, it can't be stopped) and I haven't told him so I just "I have a headache." And I walked into work and mumbled a greeting and maybe a i-dropped-your-cupcakes-whoops and I made my coffee and sat down at my desk and Will shows up, tentatively seeking out what actions he should take with his delicate, insane wife.

"No, I still have a headache. I will have a headache forever and those cupcakes were evil."

"Evil cupcakes," he agrees. (Even though he ate two last night)

And he left me alone, brilliant man, my husband, so I'm sitting here with my coffee and I'm listening to Kitka which is a...a what? An Eastern European women's choir? and I'm trying mightily to muster up enough emotion to be grateful I have a job to sit at. Or this cup of coffee. Or, I'm alive enough to have a dull pain at the top of my skull for the past ninety-six hours. Or that five of the cupcakes landed top side up and sweet Will brought them in and arranged them on a paper plate and placed them in the office kitchen.

Another thing to work on.

Day 18 – Your favorite birthday, in great detail

I don't know - I love birthdays, but not so much my own. It wasn't my 16th, I hated that one. It wasn't my 27th, when Will and I fought like cats and dogs on the drive home from Biloxi. It wasn't the countless birthdays my dad was out of town or my grandma forgot to call. I'll say it was the year, although not on my actual birthday, that my mom took my younger cousin Trey and I to Disneyworld, just the three of us.

I guess it seems weird, almost, to think about going on such a huge trip with your mom and your 18 year old cousin (was he 18? 17?), but it worked for us.

Hey, you know what, that was the same year as the trip to Biloxi. I think I just canceled out the question. So I win...at life. Excluding cupcake carrying.

bert +marie

2010-10-31T16:51:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween!

memories

2010-10-26T10:12:00.000-07:00

Day 17 – Your favorite memory, in great detail

Today I'm feeling the strange combination of both nostalgic and unkind. I'm in a terrible mood, but I'm lonesome for things in my past, and it's making me kind of squirm, you know?

I've already written about good things, good memories - memories from the greenhouse, whiskey and cigarettes on a front porch stoop, the simple pleasures my life mostly provides. I thought about this question a lot yesterday, but I couldn't come up with a favorite memory. There was my wedding day, of course, and that was nice, but not my favorite. The moment I first held my nephew, but no. I don't have a favorite. Those are good, but my favorites are with my friends.

For instance:

Walking around in the woods behind Christy's house and coming to a clearing with a burn pile. I walked up to it, Christy trailing behind me, and I stopped short and gasped and Christy ran smack into me and huffed and asked me what was wrong, and then she laid eyes on the doll head in the middle of the burn pile and I was chanting oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck and she turned me right around, hands firmly on my shoulders, and marched me right to safety. I am terrified of baby dolls.

Sitting on Jodi's couch late one night with a box of wine and a Kenny Rogers hosted country music CD infomercial.

Sitting in the back of Danielle's car in high school, my sister in the front passenger seat, when Danielle turned the lights off and drove us home on our curvy, winding road by moonlight while we squealed.

Christy's wedding day, with her pink napkins that said "Today I Marry My Best Friend." She pulled me aside at the reception and said very sternly, "Now, you know that that is just a napkin. You are still my best friend forever." And how hard I laughed at her in my very pink dress.

The faces of my girlfriends when I had picked out my wedding colors and had to break it to them.

Sitting on Pam's living room floor in the first place she lived out of high school, eating chocolate ice cream out of the carton and big slices of pineapple while we watched TV.

Oh, I do love your clavicle!

The time Jodi and I woke up in her apartment to find strawberries all over the house. That's all I can tell publicly of that story, although everyone really knows what happened. How tall is he? He's lying.

Driving around the swamp with bottles of cheap wine, windows down, sucking the dirt in our lungs.

The Mardi Gras balls Pam and I attended. The pictures that followed.

How do you talk to an angel? ...Hi, Angel.

All of Derek's hugs.

All of Jodi's hugs that are really just headlocks and an excuse to mess up my hair.

Anytime Pam snorts at me, because I'm being stupid and silly, just so she will snort at me.

What kind of grapes do you like?

Any calculating silence, and then the execution of a well-thought out plan. This happens between all of my friends. Well, Jodi and I usually skip the silence and just dive straight in and that's how we make the most trouble.

The New Years party at Amber's house that was BYOB so everyone bought a bottle of champagne...and then drank their entire bottle on the spot at midnight. At least I think that was at Amber's.

The after-graduation party at Pam's house.

That's a beautiful charcoal skirt you're wearing.

Playing board games with Christy and her husband so we can gang up and cheat on him, just because we're good at it. Oh are you getting up? Grab me a coke, will you?

Having my face so easily read by any one of these people.

And the last one, and while I was writing this, I've decided is maybe my favorite of all is this one:

A hot, hot summer night in Will's apartment in town. We're lying on his twin bed in his messy bedroom, waiting to go out (he said you can't go to the bar before 10 PM, you look like a loser or a drunk). His air conditioner is broken and his bed cover is flannel and I'm starting to sweat. I'm wearing a black knit dress and some jangly bracelets and I'm b-o-r-e-d. He says do you want to listen to a record? and I think what the fuck are you on about? but I say sure! because I like how he's small and compact and tightly wound and unlike the other boys I've dated. So he puts on Gordon Lightfoot, of all things, and he lays beside me, our feet dangling off the side, bare arms touching, and we listen. To the entire album. And then we go to the bar.

kisses

2010-10-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

Day 16 – Your first kiss, in great detail

I don't remember the actual kiss at all. I don't remember kisses from anybody, to be honest. I couldn't tell you one kiss from another. I like kisses, but they aren't the kind of thing that sticks with me. Unless it's a kiss on the cheek, my hand, the top of my head, or something brutal and crushing and desperate. I like all of those, but I don't like remembering being a confused teenager. So.

First kiss: 15, outside, under my second story bedroom window. Socked feet, standing in pine straw. Jeans, red t-shirt. I think it was before I got braces, so no problems there. Moonlight was very bright, shining off the neighbor's pool, the white fence. Everything smelled like pine trees, because that's what home smelled like back then. Brick scratching against my shoulder blades. Inside things were going on normally - sister upstairs, dad watching TV, mom doing mom things. Must have been the weekend if Bryan was at my house at night and hadn't been picked up or brought home. Maybe time slipped away from the adults. It was fall, kind of cool, maybe it had gotten dark early and no one noticed the change. I may have had red hair or black hair or virgin brown hair, it may have been short or long. Bryan was skinny in the way teenage boys are skinny, firm in the way teenage boys are firm. (I have written several filthy things here and deleted them all.) He had crooked teeth and spiky hair and smelled like CK1 and pot. He always wore his boy scout jacket over his t-shirts, that's how tiny he was. Just two tiny teenagers, standing in the moonlight, and we kissed. He was better at it than I was, I think, because I wasn't his first. I felt strange and not good enough. I felt like I was repressed. Years later, we kissed again, and I was not repressed and I scared the hell out of the tiny boy in the boy scout jacket, but I've already written about that here.

music

2010-10-18T17:16:00.000-07:00

Everyone ever stop and make music and perform like this. Thanks.

Further proof that I am kind of old on the inside.

dreams

2010-10-14T06:57:00.000-07:00

Remember that thirty day meme I was doing? Yeah, me either. Anyway.

Ok, no, really, I'm gonna do it today.

Day 15 – Your dreams, in great detail

A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he seems the dawn before the rest of the world. - Oscar Wilde

(not quite fitting, but I love it, and him, so much)

I saw this topic almost a month ago. I had just woken up, and my morning ritual is to wake up stupidly early and draw a hot bath and lie in it forever and check out online stuff while I chill. I guess it would make more sense to sleep in an extra thirty minutes, but that's not how I do. Anyway, half asleep, the first thing I thought was dreams, like actual dreams and I thought who in the hell wants to read about my dreams? Are we in high school?

Nothing turns me off a blog more than someone telling me about their dreams. If it's not prefaced with something like "this is just so I'll remember it, because I found it interesting, please skip this," I am totally out. Because while I don't practice writing down my own dreams, I do understand how a certain dream could hold some value to the dreamer. That's cool if it's your thing, I guess. My dreams are all stored neatly in my head, intensely personal and mine. You just cannot have them.

It actually took me several hours to see the flip side of this (in my defense, I don't drink coffee until I'm at work...and then it doesn't hit me until mid-morning that I'm alive and breathing and should probably try to function), that maybe they meant, oh, you know, my dreams dreams. No shit, right?

But I didn't want to write about that. I didn't want to write about that until after October 22nd, or maybe spring of next year, or maybe when Will and I started arguing about sending our kid to parochial school or where we're going to retire. I like to procrastinate. A lot.

And then last night I had a dream. And I thought, this is so fucking ridiculous, I should write this down, but where. Oh, my blog. Oh shit, no, I can't do that. I can't be that person. But it's not personal or important, it's just silly.

Long dream short: Will and I adopted a baby. I decided this baby needed to be taken to a gay pride parade. Will wouldn't go with me, but my friend Pam would. We went to a city that maybe was Austin? It looked like Austin to me. We got a hotel room that was pink everywhere and had an old upright piano painted aqua. The baby had pretty much disappeared at that point so Pam and I took naps and then we went and ate Greek food and we talked about books and had a very nice afternoon.

And after writing that I'm thinking how stupid it is to type that because I've had dreams far, far more interesting than that. But I guess I thought it was funny because I hung out with a lesbian all night and then ate a piece of pizza right before bed.

So then I thought, if I am ok with writing this bullshit down, surely I can write about my real life dreams, right? Putting them down won't necessarily make them not happen, right? I like to only skirt around my wants in life, I like to not say them out loud because it almost always happens that when I do admit to wanting something very deeply, it disappears. It's magic.

Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. - Epicurus

So here are my dreams or my wishes or my hopes or my prayers, all for the future:

-a content, satisfied husband.
-a house, old fashioned and open, on a hill between pecan trees, that hopefully are useful. i like pecans.
-a nursery, successful and pretty and close enough to home that I can run back and forth if i need to.
-healthy, happy children.
-that maintain a sense of mischief throughout life.
-and fall in love, but not too easily.
-but always, always love me and their daddy.
-to be able to take my children on vacation at least every other year - nothing fancy, let's just hop in the car and see our country, shall we? your daddy doesn't like to fly, so yes, we shall. shh, he's just like grandpa.
-for my children to build a bona fide snowman, and maybe they'll let me help.
-no hurricanes that take down pecan trees.
-johnny jump ups every fall, poinsettias in the winter, things you can't pronounce in the spring. dancing in the summer.
-lots and lots and lots of bright, wide moonlight.
-tons of blinding, white sunlight.
-parties. parties and parties and parties with music and liquor and dancing on the porch and up the stairs and down the hall and then coffee and cake whenever it hits us.
-soft little moos in the distance while I sip my coffee on sunday mornings.
-to learn all things my mama and teachers tried to get me to learn when i was a kid that i dutifully ignored - french, piano, manners. (i'm not so bad on the manners, honestly, i just prefer to be upfront about it all)
-to be a good daughter, sister, aunt, grand-daughter, niece, cousin, wife, friend, mother. above all, a good mother - protective and fun and happy and please, please always tell me everything because i can handle it. i have done things my kids had better not even dream of doing.

Usually when someone asks me what I wish for or what I want for myself, I tell them a sandwich. And eventually all my dreams come true.

(please click on that and make it larger, you will not regret it)

Now, wasn't that easy?

act ii

2010-10-12T05:37:00.001-07:00

(i wouldn't have married him if he wasn''t ridiculous)

may you live all the days of your life

2010-10-12T04:27:00.000-07:00

happy, happy birthday to my husband,

my best friend,

my partner in crime,

this goofy gentleman,

this very good-looking man.

natchez

2010-10-08T06:55:00.000-07:00

A little over an hour away from home, over the Mississippi River, there is a wonderful little town called Natchez, Mississippi that I've spent a lot of time in since I was a little girl. It's filled with old antebellum homes, most completely restored. All year, you can tour the big mansions and I've seen them all. Then in the spring and fall they have the pilgrimages, where you can tour the homes that people actually live in. I've never gotten to do that before, so I skipped work yesterday and drove over with my mom and got to tour seven unbelievably beautiful houses and man, do I have the itch to build. It didn't help that most of the homes were decorated in the exact style I crave for my own future living space.

As in, what would it look like if Krista built a house? And had a bit of money leftover to decorate just so? (Or spent the next three or four years dragging Pam to antique and junktique stores all over the state?).

It would look like this:

(well, I can't afford this kind of detail, but still)

(hello)

I've been looking at houses a lot lately, but haven't fallen in love with a style. Until yesterday, and then I came across The Burn. Obviously, we would have to scale it down a good bit, but I think I'm going to start with this look and work my way around it. I change my mind every ten minutes, though, so don't bug me if I build some some retro thing when we're ready. Just don't even say a word.

I'm just thinking...wouldn't this look gorgeous tucked behind six big pecan trees, down an old dirt road, in the middle of a cow pasture, with a nursery on the side? I thought so, too.

Here's a better picture someone else took:

(more pictures on my Flickr, if you are into that kind of thing!)

i want a ticket to anywhere

2010-10-05T19:02:00.000-07:00

(you know how there are only a handful of albums in the world you can listen to the whole way through without skipping at least one song? this is off one of those albums for me.)

serious rambling

2010-10-03T16:35:00.000-07:00

For the past few weeks I've been trying to find a song that an ex-boyfriend put on a mix tape for me. Yes, a cassette tape, so it's long gone. I can see it in my head, the case, the cover, his handwriting in black ink (I think he always used Pilot pens?). It was the first song on possibly the first cassette he ever gave me. All I remember is it had the word "dark" in the title. Isn't that helpful?

Eventually burning CDs became readily available and he switched to that format and I have most of those (well, ok, I ripped the songs I liked to my computer and made a back up when THAT technology came around, but the physical CDs are missing as well), but I think the tapes are pretty much long gone. I've looked all over the house for them - no dice. Today was my last hope at figuring out what the name of this stupid song is, so I went over to my parents' barn and headed upstairs.

Are your parents sentimental packrats? Because my parents are. You wouldn't know to look in their house - everything is needed and is perfectly put away. But holy shit, their barn. THEIR BARN.

First of all, it's dark. And there are shreds of paper everywhere from rats (Anne of Green Gables seemed to be the favorite series to nest in) and it's dark and dusty and almost kind of morbid - the family highchair, a painting of my infant sister that I believe was created by someone in prison (can prisoners have oil paints? is it even oil?), piles and piles and piles of my questionable footwear and clothes spanning a decade. And maybe a mattress and a tiny grill.

And a backpack. A backpack, front and center, drawn on with magic marker, flowers sewn on the flap, a very industrial backpack in army green and taupe and it's filled with cassette tapes.

I didn't find the tape I was looking for, sadly, but I found some other interesting things (to me...and my sister). I found tons of homemade mix tapes - my favorite being one that has a bright red insert that says Book Two with a heart and on the spine - krista's bright red birthday tape of love. (I would love to find Book One but it seems to be MIA). I found a Pearl Jam album that I forgot ever existed (and I bet everyone else did, too)...Yield. And a tape by a band called Catfood that I KNOW everyone else forgot existed, because try and do a search for them and see what you find. Yeah, that's what I though.

And then I found this testament to mine and my sister's endless teenaged free time and questionable sanity:

This is the cover of the only copy of KBTC radio, a fake radio station my sister and I created. I'm pretty sure we just sat around and talked about how hideous Courtney Love was and then we played some Bikini Kill. I actually still have a (possibly haunted?) cassette player, but I'm terrified to listen to this tape. I'm terrified of my blasé teenage voice, my barking laugh (it took me awhile to grow into that one and still sometimes I startle myself with how it sounds), or the connection my sister and I shared. I don't know. I think I'll wait until I have her here, with a great big bottle of whiskey. I can see her holing herself up in the bathroom closet with me, clutching the cassette player to her chest, scared of the same past I'm scared of. Not our parents or our family or our home, but ourselves. I've always been a bit scared of myself - who I was, who I am, who I will be. A girl who will dig through rat nests to find a song title, a girl who would sit around in her bedroom and talk about grunge music into a recorder.

I'm thinking about who I was a lot lately, as the reality of having my own children is getting pretty close. Sometimes my nephew will do something just.so. and I have to shake my head and call him Kendra. I wonder if my kids will be unforgivably weird, I wonder if people will make fun of them, or I wonder if they'll be more like their dad and fit in everywhere because they'll be good at keeping their mouths shut (and being ridiculously good looking instead of having glasses and braces like I did).

I'll be happy with a child no matter what, obviously, but I can't help but have a mental checklist of what our kid would be best off with: Will's eyesight and teeth and metabolism, my hair and nose and dimples. Will's athletic nature, his patience, his street smarts, and my book smarts, my sense of humor...and well, my weirdness.

I really sometimes worry that my kids will not inherit that from me. They'll be weird, sure (they don't stand a chance with us being their parents), but will they be weird like Will - only where a couple of people really know who they are? Or will they be different like me - unabashedly, unable to hide it? Will they suffer for it from their peers like I did? Will they grow stronger because of it? Or will they join the basketball team and try to fit in and cut their hair just so and Mom, everyone has one why can't I?

I'm not sure I'll know how to mother a kid like that. And I worry a kid like that will know I'll feel awkward and confused.

My parents pretty much never had to worry about drugs or sex or dances or sports or sleepovers. I'm not saying I want my kid to be a miserable hermit, but I never really bothered with those things, so how will I know how to be a mother when it comes to that kind of stuff? I can just see myself googling "appropriate homecoming dress 2027."

Anyway, the point is (as usual, there wasn't a point until I started this sentence), we're getting close to that time where we start trying to start a family and I'm already freaking out. I told my best friend about it and I felt calm when I said it - by the way, we will start trying for a baby soon. It sounded good, it sounded natural, it felt good.

But now, alone, brain unoccupied, I am freaking the fuck out. Am I fit to be a mother? I have this tremendous, overwhelming feeling that yes, I will be an amazing mother but I'm almost embarrassed to tell people that because I've had jabs from friends to family implying I would be terrible and I should probably not breed. I'm already worried about the pregnancy and labor and money and vacations and high schools and grades and football (they can't play football! no way!). I'm wanting to shake Will and ask him HOW ARE WE GOING TO DISCIPLINE OUR SIXTEEN YEAR OLD SON?

Y'all. Y'all. We don't have a sixteen year old son.

Why is my brain wired like this? Why do I lose my shit well in advance of whatever scary thing is happening?

And will my kid inherit that?

bouncing around

2010-09-29T08:12:00.000-07:00

I think I've mentioned my memory is terrible. I can see the big picture, but I have a hard time remembering details. Every once in awhile, though, something will come back and hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks and knock my breath out.

Standing right inside the door of the potting shed with Janet, watching the girls outside help the customers. I was taking a break from potting up asparagus ferns, had my gloves tucked under my arm. It was early spring, warm enough to wear shorts and go barefoot (barefoot in the sun, still too cold in the potting shed), cool enough where we hadn't started sweating. Breezy, blue, all of the good things you want at a nursery. We each had a cigarette (Camel for me, Marlboro for Janet) and we just stood there with our backs against the slow-draining utility sink, where the girls and I would wash our hair in the summer when we did start to sweat. She had put on a Nina Simone CD, just loud enough for us to hear in the room, maybe a couple of the higher notes drifted out to the customers, but we just stood there, shoulders touching, heads bobbing, smoking and smelling the earth all around us.

Another time I thought about was when a friend I went to see Brokeback Mountain together and got our hearts broken. We are both ridiculous, dramatic people who like to hurt, so that's what we did one Saturday afternoon. We stumbled out of the theatre into the blinding sun (I hate that feeling) and knew immediately we needed two things to survive the rest of the day: cigarettes and whiskey. I don't remember if we had to go buy the whiskey or if she already had some at home, but we ended up at her house on Jackson St., middle of the city, stretched out on her steps in the sunshine. We may have cried, even, over the heartbreak, but mostly we chain smoked and sucked down whiskey and held on to each other like the whole world was crumbling down around us. We laughed at ourselves a lot, too.

We eventually got over it and maybe went to a bar. Maybe we took a nap. I hope I didn't drive home, but that's also a possibility.

When I’m feeling high I don’t have nothing to do
Just fill me full of good liquor I’ll sure be nice to you

autumn

2010-09-28T09:43:00.000-07:00

This week will still be warm during the day, but the mornings are cool and the sun and moon are perfect every time I look at them. I know this is the only angle y'all see of my yard, that's because it's right outside my front door. I stepped out yesterday to head to the store to buy a few groceries and I thought this was perfect. I climbed into my car and rolled down the windows and listened to music from high school and thoroughly enjoyed my alone time. Even the people at the grocery store were friendly, for what it's worth.

pictures from today

2010-09-23T13:43:00.000-07:00

Cut up carrots this morning for supper. Someone lost their prize winner in Albertson's.

I work in the ghetto. In line at McDonald's (in the ghettoooooo, says Elvis) I checked my mail and this popped up. YESSSS. (yes, I get email from Captain D's. Hi, Kristan!)

Work tomorrow. Two words: SHRIMP. BOIL. (shrimp berl if you're nasty). Wear old jeans and don't touch your eyes. Peach cobbler comes with, thanks to yours truly.

aaron, my man

2010-09-22T17:53:00.000-07:00

I hadn't heard this in a long time and it just popped up and played for me. This song should always be accompanied by liquor, moonlight, and slow dancing with someone who is very drunk and who thinks you smell really good. You husband, your best gal, the neighbor's dog - whatever. The only real problem with this song is it's not hours long. So you might want to loop it. Until the sun comes up and you all pass out in the back yard. The dog will protect you.

what i'm wearing again, no really

2010-09-22T07:24:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling very creative lately, so I've been writing a lot more. I wish I could write something other than this blog that I could share, but oh well. I'm enjoying it while it lasts in the privacy of my own little office at home.

On Wednesdays Will and I take separate cars to work because on Wednesday nights we go our separate ways (he plays basketball here in town and I go back home to spend some quality time with my gal Christy). I really, really, really like Wednesday not only because of Christy time, but because I DRIVE MYSELF. I get to work in about half the time it usually takes us when Will is driving, and I can listen to my iPod without having to skip every other song (Will does not like "weird" music, he doesn't like music that consists of "one whiny guy and one guitar," and he doesn't like old black ladies singing. That is my ENTIRE MUSIC COLLECTION). I did download some Duran Duran and Steve Winwood for when we carpool in my car, but that will only get you so far out of several thousand songs, you know? I can do math, surprisingly, and the chances of Nina Simone popping up are far greater than getting to hear Rio on the thirty minute drive to work. So we mostly take his car, and we mostly listen to sports talk radio, and I mostly sleep on my way to work.

Do you know the entire point of that story? There wasn't one. I could have just posted this picture that I'm about to share and said "here is my back yard at 7 AM." But I felt like I should explain why I took this picture. It's because I was alone and it was warm and I was backing up, listening to Jeff Buckely sing Mama, You've Been on My Mind and I looked back to make sure I stayed on the driveway and I saw this. The picture doesn't do it justice, but I hopped out and took one anyway. I wanted to duck back into the house and grab my camera, but I also really wanted to hurry so I'd have time to pick up a Diet Coke and still make it to work on time. So this will suffice. It was sharp in real life, very bright and startling and it was a weird contrast to the heat. Looking at it, above all the yellow leaves and shedding trees (we get our fall because it doesn't rain and everything starts to die, which is what is happening now - autumn in Louisiana is nothing but giving up), I could almost imagine it was cold and I was wearing my new red sweater and a nice pair of boots and I would come home tonight and make soup and hot chocolate with lots and lots of marshmallows.

It's still hot here, by the way. Well into the upper 90s. I keep buying sweaters and trying on my boots, making sure they look good with the jeans I am in right now. They look good, so I just need some chilly weather.

Anyway, here is my back yard on the first day of autumn:

And here is more of this bullshit:

Day 14 – What you wore today, in great detail

YES AGAIN.

Today I'm wearing some dark jeans from The Limited, with some black flats that have ruffles on them. And a grey sweater, also has ruffles around the neck. Little white buttons on the front. 3/4 sleeves but I've rolled them over my elbows because this sweater is a bit old and has a tendency to lose it's shape. It's from the Gap so maybe you remember it. I'm wearing GIGANTIC earrings that are this lime green stone set into a gold post. The stone is HUGE and I wear them almost every day. No picture today because I don't exactly match. Oh, also, my panties have a safari scene on them and I want my mom to know that every time she takes me to the safari, I wear these panties. Tonight I'll go home and change into some navy shorts, a white sports bra, and a lavendar tank top. I will bring that sexy business to my mom's house and get on her treadmill. There will be grey and pink tennis shoes involved because it's a thing with me: my last three pairs of running shoes have been grey and pink. After a jog and a shower, I will probably wear a pair of dark grey velour lounge pants, an LSU t-shirt, and my yard shoes. And I will wear that, unabashedly and with sopping wet hair, to my best friend's house. And I will put my wet, cold hair all over her and make her squeal. And I will take my shoes off at her door because I love her and her floors are still new and perfect. And hopefully she will feed me like she feeds all hungry, homeless animals.

Jeff Buckley's version is the one I sang almost every day in the spring and summer to the plants at the nursery. I only sang it to the perennials, and I sang it very quietly so no one could hear me.

Perhaps it is the color of the sun cut flat
And covering the crossroads I'm standing at,
Or maybe it's the weather or something like that,
But mama, you been on my mind.

I mean no trouble, please don't put me down, don’t get upset,
I am not pleading or saying that "I can't forget you."
I do not pace the floor bowed down and bent, but yet,
Mama, you been on my mind.

Even though my eyes are hazy and my thoughts they might be narrow,
Where you been don't bother me or bring me down in sorrow.
I don't even mind who you'll be waking with tomorrow,
But mama, you're just on my mind.

I am not asking you to say words like "yes" or "no,"
Please understand me, I have no place I’m calling you to go.
I'm just whispering to myself so I can't pretend that I don't know,
But mama, you're just on my mind.

When you wake up in the morning and look inside your mirror,
You know I won't be next to you, you know I won't be near.
I'd just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear
As someone who has had you on his mind.

(I actually brought up this little box this morning to say I stepped on Will's feet just now when I met him in the hallway and I said "Oh! I'm sorry, I stepped on your new Air Jordans!" and he said "These are my Nike Airs. If you had stepped on my Js, I woulda had to pop you." And I thought that was hilarious, so.)

work

2010-09-21T07:26:00.000-07:00

I was just up at the sales counter asking one of our truck drivers about a delivery of a toilet I need to go out today. I was clutching my latte, probably trembling in the way excitable lap dogs do, buzzing with nervous energy and that feeling of GO GO GO! I force on myself when I need to get something done. There was a plumber sitting on the counter with his own little cup of coffee, watching me while my boss wrote up an order for him. When I was done discussing the delivery, I turned to him and said "Good morning!"

He said, "That toilet's going out in your between time, ain't it? You ain't even gonna remember it!"

My boss started to laugh so hard I thought he would fall off his stool. I just stared at the plumber, not sure if I had just been insulted. "The between time?"

"Tell her the story," my boss said, "it's her. Trust me, it's her."

So the plumber told me "I have an uncle who loads up on coffee every morning and then gets home and cools himself down with liquor. In between those you got the between time! You don't know what the hell's going on in the between time!"

Huh. I didn't know it had a name.

Came back to my office to write this out, and my boss trailed me in here a few minutes later. "Hey," he asked, "is this racist or just mean..."

I'm going to need a double dose of Friday.

week

2010-09-21T06:03:00.000-07:00

Day 13 – This week, in great detail

This is another hard one because I have a terrible short term memory. I don't remember what I ate for supper last night. I don't remember where I put my dishtowels sometimes. I ask Will the same question five times before the answer sinks in.

I also just don't feel like doing this. But I am doing it, because I have no idea when I'll feel like doing it. I'm kind of running on auto right now - my body is going through the motions and I'm just happily chugging along, oblivious to everything and everyone around me. I'm kind of sleepwalking. That's another thing - I'm exhausted. I'm always tired, and yet I can never sleep. This morning my eyes popped open around 3 AM and open they stayed, trained on the window, waiting waiting waiting until I could get up and turn myself on and get it over with. Will says I have an overactive mind.

I guess that's what I do when big things happen? Big things are happening, kind of, they're on the horizon and I'm impatient as fuck. Everyday some tiny shift will happen - sometimes in my favor, sometimes not. I brace myself in the mornings for whatever chip in our plans will happen and see what the next move is. But it's not every day, it's more like once or twice a week. That's not fast enough for me.

What I'm trying to say is I don't remember the past seven days in great detail. It was my birthday, so I ate a lot. My in-laws took me out to one of my favorite locals places on Tuesday night, a mostly-sandwich place decorated in clowns and movie posters (huh?). Then on Wednesday night Will took me out to eat at my favorite bar and grill, not far from our house. I had two margaritas (on the rocks, and I'm getting damn tired of the salt) and a turkey burger and onion rings and we watched the Yankees play...who did they play? Who knows. I think they lost. My grandparents made me black walnut ice cream and tea cakes. My sister sent me this gigantic cookbook she put together herself. One day I'll take pictures of it because you have no idea. Will and I went to the movies and saw Devil. My nephew came and spent the weekend, and he is TWO. He is so, so two. My parents and Curt and Will and I went to Cracker Barrel for my official birthday supper with mom and dad and that was nice...I didn't get dessert because did I mention? CURT IS TWO. We mowed the yard and cleaned and bleached the porch and rocking chairs and threw out all the dead summer plants. Weeded and cleaned out the vegetable garden. Went to Sonic and ate tater tots and hamburgers on a hot, hot Sunday.

We went and walked across a certain piece of land a lot, and I baby talked the cows and told them I wanted to spend time with them and a big cup of coffee on a misty autumn morning. They blinked at me.

Cows are my favorite animals, in case you were wondering.

I took a nap, but I don't remember it. I woke up one afternoon with no recollection of actually ever lying down. I lost two hours and it was weird.

And here I am, back at work. I say a lot that I would like a cave to hide in, and I still want this, but now I want a big slab of rock to slide in front of the entrance of my cave. I want to scream at people I don't understand, because I'm not listening, because I'm not really here. Leave a message and I'll get back to you after I know what's going to happen to me.

I want cows and I want pecans trees in front. Then I want a place to go to every day and be happy. I want to grow things with my soul, and a place to rest my head. And I'm just waiting day by day by day.

on the fence

2010-09-20T06:30:00.000-07:00

My mom once told me that every relationship is like a fence. I guess this analogy could be about a wall, a house, anything. She said that every little argument, every cruel word or deed, every cross look, would put a hole in the fence. Some of the holes are going to be bigger than others, but they're all there. And over time, if you don't mend the fence - if you just let it keep getting knocked down, you're fence will be destroyed and it's useless. You can rebuild a fence, but will it ever be the same?

I know which fences in my life are pristine. I can only think of one that has zero holes and that's the one I've built with my best friend. The rest of them all have a little wear and tear, some are half of what they used to be, some are knocked down completely and there's a mutual understanding that they won't be rebuilt. You move on.

Every time I think of someone, I picture their fence. How does it look today? Does it need any reapirs? Sometimes I can't repair it - the other person has to do it. Sometimes it's gotten so bad that it's overwhelming and I turn my back on it, hoping someone else will come along and fix it for me. That's where the big problem is, because who knew we had a fence?

All of that being said, a tree limb fell down yesterday afternoon and it was so large that when I heard it, I thought someone was on our porch. Instead, it was several feet away, and Will says it damaged our (very real) fence at the bottom. That, among a couple other things, is what made me think of fences this morning.

The meme may resume today. I'm really tired.

the only thing i want

2010-09-15T07:20:00.000-07:00

Every year, people ask me what I want for my birthday. Every year since Curt has been here, it's getting harder and harder to come up with something, because literally all I can think of, all that I ever want, is this:

(one month)

(one year)

(fresh into his second year)

(and i hear he is handling it like a true turd)

I love my buddy so much. He's coming to stay with my parents this weekend, so that'll be my birthday present! Kendra, isn't it nice to get off so easy? ;)

my purse

2010-09-14T06:06:00.000-07:00

Day 12 – What’s in your bag, in great detail

My purse kind of looks like it could be hiding a murder victim. It’s a huge mess (but it keeps Will out, digging for change and gum, like a hobo). I’ll take this opportunity to clean it out.

Also, yes, my purse is huge. But looking at this list, I’m not sure how it holds all of this stuff. I like to think it’s magic. I have purse magic.

A Ziploc bag with two apple oatmeal cookies
Two loose Motrin pills (thrown away…ew)
Two emery boards
One of those metal things that push back your cuticle…no idea what they are called
Two gum wrappers
A little pack of Kleenex
Two earrings, each belonging to different pairs
A white hair clip
A tag cut out of a pair of Levi jeans
A bottle of Dramamine
A bottle of Penhaligon’s Lily of the Valley hand cream
An empty coconut M&M bag (ahem)
A loose Kleenex
Two receipts from Albertson’s – one for groceries, one for coffee
Keys!
Two Hello Kitty band-aids
A half torn Walgreens receipt that was later used as a lipstick blotter (gross)
Three fortune cookie fortunes: I posted a picture of two of them before on this blog, the other one just says “Accept yourself.”
Two Uniball Signo pens, jacked from work
Bright red savings account register
A very old brush
Nirvana Unplugged (haha)
35 cents, loose (now tucked away in wallet)
Wallet! Which is full of cards and my checkbook and license, our house note book, return address labels, voter's registration, and three pictures: Curt on Santa’s lap, Will when he was 17 (thanks, mother-in-law!), and Jodi…behind makeshift jail bars that Amber photoshopped on. There’s a caption I probably shouldn’t share. No cash, but I am a AAA member.
A bottle of fingernail polish remover, cotton balls, and Q-tips, packed away in a smaller bag.
Fingernail clippers
A rubber band
A shower cartridge
Three bottles of polish: ORLY Passion Fruit, OPI Fuchsia Fling, and clear
My phone
A bottle of Synthroid
Scissors! You should never be without scissors. Unless you’re at the airport or if you’re going into a ballpark. Leave that shit at home, yo.
A lint roller
More band-aids? (not Hello Kitty, boo)
Blistex
A little travel bottle of perfume: Un Jardin Sur Le Nil (I really don’t like when people ask me what I’m wearing, because I sound like a moron trying to say that correctly…if you took French in high school, you know about THE ACCENT and so I still try and do THE ACCENT only…I can’t)
My makeup bag:
pressed powder
Stila all over glow in pretty in pink (which I have to buy off of Ebay now, because they no longer make it – I have three containers of this stuff in holding ha)
Cinnamon waxed floss (I like the corners of my mouth to burn after I floss)
A blush brush
Eyelash curler
Clinique mascara (not my favorite, but free! I do not have a favorite because I rub my eyes a lot, so none of it stands up to that)
Concealer and brush
A hair band
Mark lipgloss: Pop Passion and Swank
An Avon eyebrow pencil in Dark Brown

This was...mostly dumb.

kinker

2010-09-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

No news is good news, right? I guess I need to get back to this thing here, before I forget about it.

We went to Dallas this past weekend and we did a lot of stuff, but mostly I ate. At home I eat fairly well (not counting the insane amount of lattes and Diet Coke I ingest) but I went crazy this weekend and it felt fucking amazing. We started off by picking up breakfast at McDonald’s Friday morning on our way out of town. I had one of those ham, egg, and cheese bagels. It was disgusting and greasy and smelled like plastic. I ate the whole thing by myself. We skipped lunch (I ate an apple, but I’m insane about apples, I’m almost always eating apples) and that night we went to supper at Outback – I had a steak, a sweet potato absolutely drenched in butter and topped with brown sugar, a wedge salad covered in chunky bleu cheese and bacon and I probably ate at least half of the damn fried onion we ordered. Plus two margaritas. The next morning? A fried chicken biscuit from McDonald’s and a pumpkin spice latte (not together, ew). For lunch we went to one of my favorite places in the entire world (hey, I’m easy): Steak n’ Shake! I had MY OWN milkshake, MY OWN hamburger, and MY OWN fries. I didn’t have to sneak fries off of Will’s plate or beg for a sip of milkshake. MINE MINE MINE. Then at the ballpark I had a hot dog smothered in whatever I could find.

Today I had an apple of breakfast and I still want to kind of throw up. Will and I agree it’s nice to not eat like that ALL THE TIME because you sure do appreciate it when you let yourself do it. The first couple meals I felt insanely guilty but by the milkshake I let up. I can’t imagine people who eat like that constantly, ugh.

Anyway, that was seriously the highlight of my trip. Guilt-free gluttony.

Back to the meme:

Day 11 – Your siblings, in great detail

This is another of those don’t know what to write things – she’s my sister! I know so much about her there’s almost nothing to tell. Family is like a second skin…how can I tell you about something I assume you have already seen? But, of course, you haven’t.

Myyyy sister (my only sibling). My sister’s name is Kendra. She’s 3 ½ years older than me, lives down southaways, married for 10 or 11 years, and she is the mother of the cute little blond dude always cutting eyes at y’all on my blog.

I would love to tell you about high school Kendra, in depth, our entire relationship, but that’s for me for mine, and I’m not giving it away. We were very close, we took good care of each other, we are sisters.

I will tell you one story that sums up not only her, but our relationship (the infamous cheese toast story) and then I will make a list of things I can think about her that not only would I like to share, but I think she wouldn’t mind. My sister is a very private person.

Ok, so there was this day. I believe it was early spring, I remember it was cool enough for mom to leave the windows up in our room (my sister and I shared a room until I was around 7 or 8). I have no idea how old I was – 5 or 6, maybe? Anyway, it was SPRING and it was SATURDAY (I’m guessing, since we weren’t in school).

Wait, back up. You know what? I’m going to tell this story exactly how I remember it – from the brain of a little girl. If the details aren’t straight, I think it’ll be ok. Can we all agree on that? A five year old girl doesn’t know what the fuck is going on around her most of the time, you know?

OK SO.

A SPRING SATURDAY. Breezy, a slight chill in the air. I WANT TO PLAY. Mom and Dad are primed and ready to go out to work in the yard – Dad in his jeans and cowboy boots, an old scrub top covered in blood, a cap perched on his head, hair stickin’ out. My dad is the quintessential 80’s Southern man on this day. My mother is probably wearing shorts and a t-shirt. It may even be terry cloth – this is the 80’s, anything is possible. Anyway, that’s the last time you’ll hear of my mother in this story. MAIN CHARACTERS: ME, MY SISTER, MY DAD.

When I was little I would eat breakfast with my dad every morning. Dad knew exactly how to make cheese toast in just that perfect way – a slice of white bread, a slice of Kraft cheese, a little bit of oven action until it’s kind of bubbly on top and it starts to burn and turn black and then it deflates and melts into gooey perfection. Dad: master of cheese toast. On this lovely day we all ate breakfast together and my dad asked me what I wanted. CHEESE TOAST. I WANT YOUR CHEESE TOAST, DAD. My dad complies. He makes us a couple of pieces, sets mine in front of me.

It’s on a heel.

Now, I know some people are totally ok with the heel of the bread loaf. I am not one of those people. I will throw it in the yard for animals. In fact, I’m sorry, but I do. I will not eat it. It’s tough, it’s awkward, it makes a terrible sandwich, a terrible piece of toast, and unthinkable piece of cheese toast. As far as I’m concerned, don’t even save it for bread pudding or bread crumbs. Throw that shit out in the yard for the dogs. I’m wasteful.

Five year old me wasn’t touching that goddamn toast, no-way-no-how, no sirree, put that right back where it came from, I don’t want nothing to do with it.

I’m guessing most of you had daddies at some point. And I’m guessing all daddies are mostly alike. And I’m also guessing y’all know that wasting food, food that your daddy worked hard to buy, does not fly. I can see that now. I totally side with my dad on this one now that I’m older.

Anyway, my Daddy says “If you don’t eat that cheese toast, you can’t go out to play today.”

What will I do?

“You’ll sit in your room until you eat that cheese toast.”

And…well, I did. I got carted off to our bedroom with a little saucer holding a heel of bread covered in cold, gummy burnt cheese and I was told to stay there until the cheese toast was gone.

I laid down on our bed and cried my little eyes out. It was a beautiful day and mom had opened the big window in our room – you could hear the birds chirping and mama digging in the flower beds and talking to my sister, hear them laughing. Daddy was on the lawnmower, everything was at it should be except I wasn’t out there with them.

Sadly, looking back, I realize I could’ve done several things – flushed it down the toilet, ran to the kitchen and buried it in the trash can (knowing no one else was in the house!), EATEN IT. But no, I was as stubborn then as I am now.

And so, my sister enters the story.

I can’t describe what this toast looked like after it had been sitting on my nightstand all morning. It was…well, it was ice cold, burnt cheese toast. My sister didn’t even LIKE cheese toast. Hot, fresh, and unburned, she wouldn’t touch the stuff. But in she marches, ponytail trailing after her (goddamn that thing was long) and she sat next to me, grabbed that saucer, and gobbled it up. Now we could play.

That is what a sister should be, am I right? A savior, a protector, a sidekick. A best friend, a confidant, and a hero. And my sister turned into all of those things, in one day, in piece of toast.

Now for a list:

Last fall, Kendra and I emailed each other back and forth about apples. We would buy different kinds and try them all and compare. “What did you think about the Pink Lady?” “Very good, I’ve got a Jazz this morning.” “Those are nice, a little too sweet – what about a Braeburn?” “I’m not sure I saw those, might have to try a different store.”

Last fall I bought a pomegranate and brought it to her house and we shared it. Before all of this, I had googled how to eat it. Seriously.

When I was in high school, my sister moved in with her boyfriend (now husband) and I would go visit. She would make me a drink – Southern Comfort and coke, with peanuts and lemons and we sat on her couch and watched Mystery Science Theater in the pitch darkness.

When I was young, my sister actually hung out with me – took me to the mall, took me to Arby’s.

My sister taught me how to drive.

Once I walked into her bedroom and she was folding her laundry or putting it up or something, and she had on a movie. I laid across her bed and watched it for awhile. It was Hamlet. I stole her Shakespeare book and I was hooked.

We used to sit in her dormer window and play music together. Guitar, bass, singing, rhythm, rockin’ out – it was fun.

We used to write with one another – I would write a section, she would write a section, and so on.

My sister was a tremendous poet and painter.

My sister doesn’t ask a lot of questions. She likes her privacy and she likes to give others the same. It’s not that she doesn’t care what you’re doing or what you’re about, she just would rather you tell her when you’re ready. I don’t know if she knows that or not.

My sister’s hair always smells good. Almost peppery, if that makes sense. Like nasturtiums.

Once she wrote a little poem about me that broke my heart, but only because it was true.

It’s been a dozen or so years since we lived together and it really, really bothers me that there are parts of my sister I don’t know and will never know. I guess that’s what getting older is.

My sister is a fantastic cook, much better than I’ll ever be. I came up with the idea for the cooking blog, but she updates the most: what's for supper, sister?

She once took Louisiana Literature class and I think she hated most of the books and passed them on to me. Some of them are now my favorites.

When she attended Louisiana College, she would take me to the art building at night while she worked.

She has done a lot of stuff for me and with me that I can’t list here.

She let me crash at her apartment in Baton Rouge I don’t know how many times.

I hated her husband at first, because I thought it was his entire fault she moved. Then I hated her for awhile. Then I got mostly over it.

As sisters, we aren’t perfect. There’s sibling rivalry sometimes, even though it’s muted and strange, and we butt heads on some things – mostly politics. So we don’t talk about those things. Problem solved.

We look very much alike, we think very much alike, we have the same sense of humor, the same quirks, the same movements and accent (we both suddenly morph into Cajuns when you piss us off) but we are almost exactly opposite.

There’s not much more to say. She is pretty awesome. And I love her. I wish everyone had a big sister.

(Also, I hear she is very sick today, and at work, so everyone band together and say HEY KENDRA. THANKS FOR EATING THAT CHEESE TOAST.)

curt on his birthday

2010-09-07T18:44:00.000-07:00

don't touch my fishsticks, lady.

there's this thing i gotta think about

2010-09-07T18:39:00.000-07:00

I know I'm smack in the middle of a this huge meme, but I got a lot of stuff on my mind. I'll return to it soon! Maybe even tomorrow? I also have a post ready for sister supper, but I still have to edit it! Hopefully all of this waiting and worrying will be well worth my time. And will contain less of the letter W.

aka krista

days ten and eleven

i had to do it

ritual

days eight and nine

day seven

day six

day five

day four

day three

day two

day one

hey whatever

disney, a blog post

just checking in

the south's champion

you have the right not to be killed

so much talking

more white people problems

downtown

that sweet boy you all like

prep

my picture-heavy valentine

things i miss about spring (today)

the dreaded valentine's day

i'm so lonesome i could blog

allow me to freak out

backed up

Golf is a good walk spoiled. - Mark Twain

we got high in the park

that rooster is cockeyed

vain little samson

a story in pictures or: making up for missed days

cheating

TGIMFF

the pipe

we are those people

last second

this right here is my new hairdo

it's just air!

i'm a boat captain!

ladies

no chance, you metal bastard

what? i like to read.

when you teach me not to stare into the sun

new year

what does it matter

christmas traditions

just checking in

christmas

she hates the beatles, but likes the stones

soundtrack

christmas with friends 2010

remix

ummm

panic

christmas

good night

thoughts that i'll regret later on

thanksgiving

one more moment

novemberish

dunca will

she's bound to run amok

life hardly matters here in the dark

hateful pastries and birthdays

bert +marie

memories

kisses

music

dreams

act ii

may you live all the days of your life

natchez

i want a ticket to anywhere

serious rambling

bouncing around

autumn

pictures from today

aaron, my man