Lady Lemon's Blog

And...

2009-08-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

It's done. I say this with a laugh as I am typing for from work computer. But, yesterday was my last day, complete with and Ice Cream party and a gift card. My coworkers are really so sweet. It's makes me realize I AM going to miss them. Something I was not aware of previously.

But, I must run! I need to stop procrastenating, turn in my last time sheet and keys and hit the road! Last mintute packing - airport - NYC!!

Holy shitoly. Today is a good day!!

I hope it is a good day for all of you as well!!

Ten Truths

2009-07-28T08:59:00.000-07:00

This is stolen from the lovely Kori. She posted hers last week, and allowed anyone to steal this by tagging themselves. Consider me tagged.

1. I feel lighter than I have in four years. Shit, maybe more. With the weight of my job lifted from me, I feel like I am walking on goddamn air. Every time I think of something work related that would have had my stomach in knots and my hands wringing themselves, I smile instead. And I breathe deeply and my shoulders relax. There is nothing better.

2. My birthday is in 9 days from today. I will be twenty-nine years old. This is my last birthday before I turn thirty. This concept causes me to wonder were the hell my twenties went. Maybe I should check under the couch.

3. I am about to embark on a journey to New York City. Even though it will be most brief, I cannot wait. I have spent a great deal of time fantasizing about what our stay will be like. In order to punish me for this, my mind has devised some rather clever nightmares. I keep dreaming that the trip has come and gone, and I that I already back home again. The problem is that I can't remember the trip I took at ALL. I can't figure out how I could have gone to New York City and not have a single memory of it. That dreams sucks, but waking up and realizing that it is a dream - rocks.

4. I have an obsession. I am obsessed with make-up. No, I'm not one of those loons that can't leave the house without their "face on". I am in fact regularly seen in public without so much as lip gloss. What I am obsessed with is the buying of makeup and the WANTING to buy makeup (more of the latter). But don't get me wrong, I DO wear the stuff. Mostly on the weekends when I have the most time to devote to putting in on. There is just something so wonderful about feeling fully made up to me.

5. Growing up I was obsessed with Barbies. My grandmother, who I have written about before HERE catered to my obsession as I was her only grand child. I had the barbie dream house (with a pull string elevator which I thought was THE height of coolness). At some point she had a friend who made custom barbie furniture and she commissioned her to make some for me. I had a red-white-and-blue living room set and an all-red, lace and satin, heart-shaped Barbie bed. That was used for when Barbie felt like sluttin' around. Which, as I recall, she did quite often.

6. I am one of the palest people you will ever met. White sheets look tan next to me.

7. I never thought that I would enjoy blogging nearly as much as I do. I had no idea how much I had missed writing.

8. I have an animal addiction. My small house contains three dogs, two humans, and one cat. And believe me, if I didn't think that someone would call the city on me (or the nut-house) I would go out and get another dog TODAY. I am so going to be one of those old women that gets found living in a house with 79 feral cats one day, claiming to 'love' the smell.

9. My favorite colors are black, green, and silver. My least favorites are orange, yellow, and white.

10. I can't play the lottery, because when I do I actually get my hopes up about winning, even though I know what kind of odds I am up against. When I inevitably do not win, I feel very disappointed. I must be a bigger optimist that I thought I was.

11. Despite the fact that almost all of my blogging buddies are female (and QUITE dear to me), I don't have female friends in real life. Well, I have two female friends actually, but I wouldn't say that either one is really a "girly girl" at all. I don't know what it is about my personality that causes this, but it certainly must be something. Nearly all of my close friends are males.

So, my dears, tell me a truth about you? Could be something secret or just something silly. I would love to hear anything you wish to share with me. I hope you are all feeling fine and well today.

Help Me

2009-07-23T09:10:00.001-07:00

Good peoples of the blogging community. I need you. I need you to tell me that it's going to be ok. Talk me down.

I just did the unthinkable. I just handed in my resignation letter.

Do I have a new job on the horizon. No, I do not.

What the shit am I doing, someone please tell me??

Health insurance? Money? Oh, to hell with it all.

It's done. It's done, done, done.

After almost four years with the Department, I am bowing out.

Before my state-worker ass gets any fatter. Before my soul gets any deader.

I'm on to greener pastures?? Two weeks...

The Excitment Never Ends

2009-07-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

So, I had to dial 911 yesterday. Not a common, everyday type occurrence, no. Necessary all the same.

Why? Oh, my office was on fire.

So, I'm sitting at my desk, reading a blog around noon yesterday, when I hear the pounding on the door to my hallway (My office is in a different part of the building from the majority of the folks at my office. On this day, I was the only one on my side.) So, grumbling, I get up from my computer to see what the fuss is about. Through the see-through side-bar on our door I can see the frantic look on my coworkers face. Her hands waving for me to walk faster. I couldn't imagine what was going on. Maybe someone was having a heart-attack? Several of my coworkers are older ladies, so that was the only thing I could imagine.

As soon as I open the door, the smell hits me. A thick burning rubber/plastic smell smacked me in the nostrils.

My coworker, in her frantic state points through the door behind her, and I see it. Dense clouds of smoke pluming from the back of the room. I can't see the back wall.

"There's a fire in there!!" she shrieked. "Is Diane here?" (Diane is my boss and the building manager.) "No", I said, "haven't seen her all day. But, we need to get out of here right NOW"!

And that we did. On the way out of my office I grabbed my cell phone and called my supervisor who was in a meeting across town. I let her know the situation as best I could. She asked if anyone had called 911 yet. I felt certain that someone had already, as I was rather later to the scene than most everyone else in my office, but I figured I better call just in case everyone was thinking the same thing.

Did you know when you call 911 your cell phone enters into "emergency" mode and won't let you dial any numbers other than 911 until you exit out of it? I'm not sure what that's all about, but it damn sure was confusing in a moment of panic.

Within maybe a minute, maybe less, the firetrucks showed up. Yep, plural. They sent, for some reason I do not understand, three of them. The men in their heavy uniforms and masks trundled into the smoke filled building. Apparently one of my braver coworkers had thought fast and grabbed the fire extinguisher. She had already put out the flames for the most part, so really they were just checking to be sure it was out. Once they had confirmed that there were in fact no more flames, they brought out the industrial fans to air the place out.

While we waited for the smoke to clear, one of the firemen walked over to where a bunch of us were standing. "Well, we know what caused the fire!" he announced. My, I thought, that was fast.

"Yep", he said. "It was that candle."

And, we all knew what candle that was.

See, despite the fact that burning candles in a state building would seem to be an obvious no-no, and while it is EXPLICITLY against the rules, there are those that do it anyway. I don't know if it is some sort of act of rebellion on their parts, or just general ass-hatery, but I can assure you, this is an issue. Probably in every state building everywhere.

And this particular hard-head had set our motherfucking office on fire.

Oddly, this is NOT what disturbs me the most.

No, what disturbs me the most is that evidently, we do not have fire alarms in our office??? With all the roaring, rising smoke not a single BEEP! was heard. If my coworker hadn't come looking for Diane down my hallway, I might not have gotten out of the building!

How utterly fucking unacceptable is THAT? Additionally, how utterly unsurprising is that?

Exactly.

But, I am seriously pissed off about it, as I think are a number of my coworkers. I'm almost glad that Dumbass McBumpkin started the damn fire, because it highlighted this point. Next time, the fire might not be so easily controlled and someone might get seriously hurt or killed.

I mean, with all the jankity ass wiring going on in this office, it's a surprise that we don't have fires every damn day.

So, what the shit? Should I write to the head of my department? The governor? If this is an issue here, I know this must be an issue in lots of state offices. Where is the oversight for this shit?!

in which Lady Lemon leaves the state of Florida

2009-07-17T08:45:00.000-07:00

No, no I'm not quitting my job. I wish.

I'm traveling, if you can believe it. It's been quite some time since I have done such a thing. My last journey out of Florida was for my birthday, almost a year ago. The boyfriend, the dogs, and I went to Chattanooga and Lookout Mountain last year around this time and spent a few days away from the heat. We've actually done that on my birthday for the last two years in a row. It's nice because my dad has a place up there, so other than gas money, it's a pretty cheap little vacation.

This year, things have taken a rather different turn.

My good friend is getting married, and despite the fact that Tallahassee is her home town, she is not doing it here. No, she's getting married in Long Island, which is where she lives now. Sort of a break from tradition, I guess, since it seems that most people get married in the place they were brought up.

Being the wonderful and dutiful friend that I am (dusts shoulders off), I could not miss out on such an occaision, despite the crushing economic implications. Not to mention, I'm a bridesmaid. A title which requires a rather expensive uniform.

So, seeing as how her wedding is to take place two days after my birthday, I decided to make it a two-fer. NYC birthday/wedding extraganza 2009, baby!!

The plans are roughly as follows: fly into NYC on the 5th, spend the 5th and 6th in Manhattan. My birthday is the 6th, so it works out perfectly that we will have that day in the city. Plus, boyfriend has never been there before so it will be most fun to experience it through his virginal eyes. Then, we will head over to Long Island on the 7th, which will be the night of her rehersal dinner. The 8th will be the wedding and the 9th we will head back home.

Whew, just typing that sort of wore me out. It is certainly not going to be one of those relaxing-type vacations. No, not at all. But, such is the nature of The City. It's all "go-go-go", and "hop on the train QUICKLY, or else it will slam shut on your arm as you reach out to your fellow traveler already on said train".

Or, at least, that has been my experience.

I've already bought the plane tickets for myself and boyfriend. He is going to be paying for the two nights that we will stay in Long Island, at a room I have already booked for us. But, that left our bank accounts empty and still two nights in Manhattan left to pay for. Not to mention the INSANE expense that is associated with bridesmaids dresses. Ugh.

So, what to do?

I asked my father if he would pay for the two nights in Manhattan as a birthday gift for me. Now, my father really hates to part with money, so this idea took him a bit of getting used to. But, the one thing my father LOVES(other than Sai Baba)? Getting a good deal. It's like crack for him. So, I got down to researching some deals on Orbitz and found possibly the greatest deal ever.

Two nights, one room. Reasonable price (for Manhattan) at the WALDORF-ASTORIA!!! I know, right?!? I thought the chances were slim, but hey, it's worth a shot at this price, and maybe, just maybe, he'll go for it. So, I present dad with the information. He is very skeptical. He calls American Express (his go to source) to see what kind of rates they have for the W.A. The best price that they had for a room was almost 3 times my Orbitz rate!!!

Dad knows a deal when he sees one. So, for my birthday, I will be slumbering in the Waldorf Astoria!!! The hotel the KING stays in when he comes to NYC in "Coming to America". which is one of my boy friends favorite and most-watched movies. He keeps looking at me all wide-eyed and saying "the KING stayed there and I'm going to be taking a shit in the same place the king stayed!!". It's so fucking cute.

So, I'm going to NYC and I am going to stay in the mother fucking Waldorf-Astoria??!! For my birthday???!! I think I must be dreaming. Hell, maybe I'm dead.

Three weeks! In three weeks I will finally journey away from my home. I will go to the craziest of crazy cities and spend the night in the craziest of crazy hotels. If they don't turn us back at the door for being the bumpkins that we are.

*note - I also intend to stalk the shit out of cleaning staff so I can steal whatever sorts of fancy tolietries that have in their carts. Can you tell I stay in fancy places, like, all the time?

In a Pickle

2009-07-14T13:49:00.000-07:00

I am one hot, sweaty bitch today. No, I haven't just ended a passionate, day-long, love-making session (yeah right). No, no - my fucking work A/C was broken when I got here this morning. The guys didn't get out here to fix it until about 3:30 this afternoon. The temperature is slowly creeping its way back to an acceptable level.

And I realized that there is something worse than working a desk job for the state. Working a desk job for the state in the Florida summer with NO MOTHERFUCKING A/C.

I know, I know. I am a total wuss about these things. I wouldn't have survived 300 years ago. Of course, I am legally blind without my glasses, so that would have probably ruled out any successful hunting/gathering efforts I had in me.

Sigh, such is life.

Today I have pickles on the brain following the post of my dear Ms. Moon. I have always been a huge pickle fan for as long as I can remember. Just the dills! I can't get down on the sweet ones or even the 'bread and butter' variety. No, just the sour and salty. And really, in my book, the sourer (more sour?) and the saltier, the better.

I remember the first time I realized that I had an 'unnatural' love for dill pickles. I was about 5 or 6 and had just gotten over a bout of the dreaded stomach flu. I was still in that moderately pukey stage were not all foods were acceptable to me. The only thing I wanted to eat? You guessed it, pickles. They were the only thing that I could tolerate in that state.

I recall a couple of my mother's friends coming over and upon viewing me downing the delicious dills, expressed their shock at this. "You must be feeling a WHOLE lot better to be eating those already!", one said. I shrugged. It seemed perfectly understandable to me.

I still feel this way about pickles, to be honest. After a meal when I have just eaten to capacity and everything sounds yak-worthy, a pickle still sounds good. Almost stomach settling.

Maybe it's the vinegar? The salt? I just do not know.

Oh, and another oddity of mine is that I detest, and I mean DETEST that cousin of the pickle, the olive. Well, maybe they aren't cousins in the technical sense, but they are both pickled, right? Olives (yes, black and green) make me want to vomit and pickles apparently have the exact opposite reaction.

I think this is most odd. If anyone know what's up with this let me know. Also, do you have an unnatural love/hate for a certain food item? Let me know! I don't wanna be the lone freak on the bloggy-block!!

So, Instead I Post

2009-07-10T10:43:00.000-07:00

I've been having a shitter of a day so far, which is unusual for a Friday. Usually with a weekend ahead there is very little that can get me down. Today, no. Maybe I'm dealing with some hormonal shit? Must be that bitch, the Moon, again. (Note: the Moon, not Ms Moon. I would never call you a bitch. Celestial bodies, on the other hand have no reprieve from my wrath!)

After purchasing $761 worth of plane tickets (dude, shit), I had a rather unpleasant conversation with my father which melted me into a sad, teary puddle. The details of this conversation in particular were nothing shocking or extreme, just the kind of stuff I really should be used to by now. I ended up crying on the phone to my mother, which made me feel slightly better. Of course there is nothing that she can do to change him, but she can at least understand where I am coming from and that helps.

I just get so jealous of people who have good relationships with their fathers. There are so many good daddies out there in the world. So many men who love to be fathers. Who love to spend time with their children. Who want to get to really KNOW their children and want those children to know them. And I know, as Aunt Becky would say "How dare you complain when others have it so much worse! There are people without feet and legs!" - which never fails to amuse me. Some people never had fathers, never got to even meet them. Some people have lost their fathers. Some people's fathers abused them. My dad never did that, certainly. But, still. I want to have a daddy that they feel close to.

I want this so bad with my dad, and even though I know I'm fighting a losing battle. As my mother said today, "you just have to lower your expectations." And I know. I KNOW that's the truth. So, why is that so hard to do? Why do I still try to expect things from my dad that I know he won't give me? CAN'T give me?

This is just a part of growing up. I just need to suck it up and the sooner I do, the sooner I will feel better about it.

Uggggh.

SO! I think a little good shit/bad shit might be in order to pull me out of this funk! Without further ado:

Good:
*good daddies
*traveling! - I'm going to NYC in a month!!!!!
*cocacola classic - I know, it's evil as shit. It'll rot your teeth. But, oh it's worth it.
*stand alone ice makers - we have one of these babies at my office. It makes perfect little square pieces of ice with the perfect texture. And they never taste like the fridge, because it's not in the fridge! I love it. When I'm rich one day (ha!) I will totally have one in every room of my mansion.
*basil - omg, I love this stuff. Bruschetta, anyone?
*The Princess Bride - totally one of the best movies ever made. I could quote the whole thing AND sing the song.

BAD
*foul breath - I hate smelling other people's stank breath. For some reason, the stank breath of my pets does not bother me. Go fig.
*turds on the floor - when you are potty training an animal, any day without one is a good day.
*My utilities bill - that shit was well over $300 this month. And I live in a small two bedroom. Yeah.
*Sprint - I have them as my phone carrier and cannot wait until my fucking contract is up. My service is utter shite and customer service? Ha!
*weddings/bridesmaid dresses - I am in the middle of dealing with one of each of these. I've never been more anti-wedding in my LIFE!

Ugh. These aren't very entertaining. Sorry, I'm just in the shitter today. I do feel slightly better now, though. Thanks.

So, what is making you blue today? A person? Your bank account? The weather? Let me hear about it.

As Whitney Would Say, I believe the Children are Our Future

2009-07-09T12:01:00.000-07:00

Teach them well and let them lead the motherfucking way.

I have a new hero.

Some Good and Bad Shit for Today

2009-07-07T11:25:00.000-07:00

Good:
*Singing, especially with harmonies. If only I possessed the talent, I'd have been a singer.
*Office parties. We had a most enjoyable one this morning. Complete with a hula hooping contest won by yours truly. I bet you didn't know I had the hooping skills, did you?
*Swimming! I got to do some great swimming over the weekend. I have finally decided to shake free the chains of fear that showing my bathing suit clad body produces. Fuck it! I'm certainly not the fattest person anyone has ever seen in a bathing suit! I have just as much right to enjoy the cooling waters as all those skinny heifers do. And I SHALL! To think of all the perfectly good swimming opportunities I've let myself miss. No more.
*Grilled Grouper!!! This is going to sounds weird to some of you, but there is this place in PC that serves "grouper throats" and while that does not sound appetizing, I assure it is the best tasting fish I have ever put in my mouth. If you ever see this on a menu, you really must give it a shot!
*Wind and Rain - these are the only two things that make Florida livable this time of year.
*Porches - sitting on them with friends and alcohol. This really is my favorite thing to do.
*Video games - yes, I'm a "gamer girl". That's one of the things my boyfriend loves most about me. Ha. Sims 3, Fallout 3, Oblivion. I'm so all over it.
*TrueBlood - HBO's new series. I am in fucking love with it. I thought it sounded really stupid and then someone forced me to watch the first episode and now? I'm hooked. You will be too!
*Bill Mahr - He's such an pothead-asshole. I love that about him.
*Kathy Griffin - I know, SB, you hate her. But, her show is one of my very favorites. It really is worth a shot, I swear.

BAD:
*Drama - office, family, relationship. In whatever form it appears, it's bad shit.
*American Idol - don't shoot me for this one! I know everyone and their brother loves this show, I just have never understood it's appeal. If you get it, feel free to enlighten me.
*Religion - yep. Just like that, I'm lumping all religion in as bad shit. Tossin' the baby with the bath water, that's how I roll.
* Meghan McCain - If I have to see this dumb bitch give one more interview, I'm going to puke on my TV. Just because your dad ran for pres (and LOST) does not make you worth talking to about shit you don't understand. Yeah, I know she's all "sex positive" or whatevs. I still don't want to hear her talk.
*Jon and Kate drama - ugh. Double ugh.
*Coffee shops - Why does my coffee have to come with a side of pretension?!
*Not having a baby - When almost everyone you know has one and you want one, it sucks. It's like being the last girl in your middle school to grow boobs. You run around looking at everyone saying "when will it be MY turn!!".

Sigh. So, what are you loving/hating today?

EDIT: I realized that I put religion on my bad shit list last time too. I really must get more creative with my hate. Note to self.

Return to the Motherland

2009-07-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

Tonight I am going to Panama City. The boyfriend and I will be loading up our three dog-heads and hitting the road. My family is from Panama City, both my mother's and father's sides. It's a long and classy family tree I come from, I tell you.

There has always been something just a little bit icky about Panama City to me. I can't put me finger on exactly what it is, but I have narrowed it down a bit over the years. It has something to do with the fart smell of the paper mill (and the related leak of chemicals into the ground water, no doubt), the tacky nature of tourist towns, and, well... the locals. Those people just don't look right. Spend an hour in the grocery store over there and you'll see what I mean. They aren't playing with a full deck of genes, or something.

Yes, I DO realize that this is the birth place of my own parents. Yes, I realize what this means for me. I've grown to accept that PC is in my blood. There's no point in denying it, is there?

ANYWAY - I am rather looking forward to this three-day weekend. It's hard not to be happy about a paid day off. But there are other things to look forward to than just sleeping in (which will be heavenly, I assure you). A couple that we are very close friends with will be joining us over there on Friday. They are good people who like to have good drinks and good conversation. Truly delightful friends. Also, my dad and his wife will be there, so I will get dad to take us out on his boat to watch the fireworks (and hopefully avoid any and all drama).

AND there will be drinking, smoking, and relaxing. My three favorite activities.

And swimming. By god I am forcing myself into a Target to buy a bathing suit. I am going to strap it on and haul my fat, white butt down to the water. Because Lady Lemon lurves her some swimming. Especially at night time with her man-candy. And because we will be right there on the water the breeze will be so strong that all this heat won't even matter. Well, won't matter as much, anyway.

I need this day to hurry up and be over so I can go home and get packed. I need to stock up on some chips and salsa, some sun screen. Some beer. And sparklers!!!

Ah yes, I can't wait.

So my lovely ladies, what are you planning for the 4th??

Father's Day

2009-06-25T13:20:00.000-07:00

Father's Days (and holidays in general) in my family seem to be getting weirder the older I get. Although, come to think of it, I don't really remember what we did for Father's Day when I was a kid. I don't know if that is a sign that I am a shitty daughter, or that I just have a shitty memory. Perhaps a touch of both. Hmm...

What I do recall are the events that occurred this Father's Day, and I will share those with you now.

So, Saturday afternoon my man, three dogs, and myself packed up in the car and headed for Panama City were my dad's family is from. For those of you not from around here, it's only about a 2 hour drive from where I live, so it wasn't too bad at all.

We got there around 6ish and settled the dogs in the place we where we would be staying and headed over to my dad's place. He had invited other family members to come over as well - my Uncle A, my Uncle M and his estranged son, daughter-in-law-and grandson, and my (very evil) grandmother.

We had a decent enough time - there were veggie chicken nuggets and tomatoes from my garden for consumption, so no complaints on the food front. I always like eating with dad and his wife because they are vegetarian, which means that there will be food available that I can eat (I'm a veggie, too). This is SO not the case at my mother's house (she's from the Paula Dean school of food-thought - if there's not bacon involved, why bother?)

After some drinks and good times, we headed back to be with our dogs for the evening. They were so happy to see us that one of them ran upstairs and laid a turd. Such fine animals, I have.

So, the next day the man and I went over to spend Father's Day with my father. Now, to explain a bit, my father is a very odd man. Not just because of his religious beliefs (which are far more than odd), but because he's just a bit on the bizarre side. I have often posited that his odd behaviors could be the symptoms of adult ADD (which, he SO totally has, even though he doesn't know it). But, that is neither here nor there. The fact remains that he is difficult to interact with.

What form does this difficulty take? Mostly him ignoring me and everyone around him. To a rather extreme degree. I'm not talking about being just a little absented-minded and maybe missing a word or two. Oh, no. You can look dad right in the eye and ask him a question, and he will look at you, obviously registering that something has been asked of him. Then he will simply turn and walk away.

Hard to picture, isn't it? Unless you happen to know someone like this, I am guessing that it would be. If he hadn't been behaving this way since I was born, I might assume he was developing senile dementia. But, no.

Sorry for all this babble. This is shit about my dad that just drives me butt-shit crazy though. And worst of all, it's not like he will snap out of it and say "oh, wow, sorry I was just TOTALLY IGNORING YOU. My bad". No, it does not even seem to register to him that he is behaving in an abnormal way.

SO, ANYWAY we got to spend time with my father, which mainly turned into us spending time with his wife, who (so very thankfully) is very awesome and a joy to spend time with. One can actually hold a conversation with her. Who knew!? Then we all decide to ride over and check out my Uncle M's new jewelry store. Which was really fucking amazing. My uncle M has be known to engage in some fairly sharty business deals (selling Lost and Found sun glasses bought from Disney world security officers, having a booth at the flea market, living in a bread truck), so naturally I was not expecting anything fancy. But the little store was adorable and all the jewelry was either silver or beaded. Just like I like it. I was somewhat overcome by a girly frenzy, I'll admit.

So, one ring, one bracelet, and one anklet later I had satisfied my burning need for all things shiny. My uncle A apparently had one "burning" desire left in him. "You got a toke on you, babygirl?" he asked. And, of course, I did.

So right there, in front of my uncles (open) store, we all had ourselves a little smoke break: Uncles A and M, Dad, Stepmother, Boyfriend, and me. Never in my wildest dreams as a little girl, could I have imagining doing this sort of thing with my family one day.

So, after that we were hungry ('cause, duh). We all loaded up and headed down the road for some seafood. There is nothing that can compare to Seafood in a coastal town (my apologies to those from the mid-western states). I had offered to pay for dad and his wife's dinner as a fathers' day gift (look, he's impossible to shop for). So, the uncles showed up and I felt I should extend the offer to them. Not to mention that my Uncle A "casually" told me he only had 9 bucks.

So we order (grilled grouper sandwich AND fries, be still my heart!), we sat, we ate, we talked.

"You know," said Uncle M, I heard that there are 44 different varieties of mosquitoes in Bay County alone. 44!! And they will only breed with each other. Can you believe that shit?!"

Dad doesn't miss a beat. He turns to Uncle M and says "Yeah, I can believe that. There are 8.6 million species on the planet."

Ok. Sounds believable enough, I suppose. I wonder what his source could be. Nova? NPR? PBS?

No, no I should have known better.

"Yes, Sai Baba said that there are 8.6 million species on the planet. I don't think anyone on earth could know that but him."

Then he looked at me. Not wanting to taint Father's Day for him, or either of my (Sai Baba believing) Uncles, all I could say was "well, I guess I'll just have to bite my tongue on that one."

I could tell by the look in his eye that, of course, this was not what he wanted to hear. He was disappointed. As usual.

And so it goes with me and my dad. I love him very much despite all of his utter insanity, but I can't lie to him about this. I can't just coo "ohhhhs" and "ahhhs" at him like he would like for me to do. I can't just be all "oh your God is just so cool, dad - everything that you say he says MUST be absolute fact!" like he wants me to. No, because then I would be disappointed in myself for not standing up for what I believe (or don't believe) in.

And I have been down that road before. I have told a white lie or two in a moment when I just couldn't bear to let him down. Again.

But, he lets me down too, I think. That he can hear and repeat every word that falls out of his sad, old, bullshitty "God's" mouth, but he can't be bothered to process me saying "hey dad, how're you doing today?"

I don't know, I don't know. For some reason thinking about this all right now makes me want to cry frustration tears, but it's probably just PMS coming on. Lord knows, this isn't a new issue for me. For us.

Thanks to anyone who hung in there this long. I know this post was a downer. Any suggestions of how to deal with this would be greatly appreciated.

I'm Jello, Baby

2009-06-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

So, it appears I have been tagged for a meme. This is all new to me. I've never memed before (is that right, memed??)

Bear with me, loves.

What is your current obsession?
The Sims 3. It's true. I'm a geek.

What is your weirdest obsession?
Wow, good question, so many to choose from. I have an odd obsessive love for condiments. They make everything better. I could eat a rotted rat carcass if smokey honey mustard was involved.

Recall a fond childhood memory.
Playing with rolly-pollys and snap dragons (i loved to make them "talk") in my mom's garden. Also, slip 'n sliding until my skin was raw. I never had a pool, so in the summer it was all about the Slip 'n Slide.

What's for dinner?
I have no idea yet. Maybe Cabbage soup if I am not too lazy to make it.

What would you eat for your last meal?
WOW. I'm loving this question. Must be an expression of my bigger love: food. I would say for my last meal I would want a big salad with no olives or mushrooms, but everything else, and a big ass cheese pizza with fresh basil on top. And garlic rolls. Is it not lunchtime yet??

What's the last thing you bought?
Pasta for dinner last night.

What are you listening to right now?
Keyboard/air conditioner sounds. This place is dead at the moment.

What do you think of the person who tagged you?
Steph is an all-black wearin', yoga lovin', California livin' lay-day. And her kids are too cute.

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Florence, Italy. Without the slightest hesitation. You know that song I left my heart in San Fransisco? Yeah, well...

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
One hour. Hmmm, what could I do in one hour... Amsterdam, Netherlands. Aww yeah, baby.

Which language do you want to learn?
I know some French and Italian. I would chose to perfect my Italian. I was never exactly fluent in it, but the years have not been kind to my recollection of it either. (See above). Other than that, Spanish. Sooo marketable in FL.

What's your favorite quote (for now)?
Today? "I'll bring home the turkey, if you'll bring home the bacon."

What is your favorite colour?
Like Steph said, if it's going on my body? Black. Otherwise, green or red.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
My brick-red, floofy skirt. I'm wearing it right now!

What is your dream job?
One that I can work at my own leisure. One that NEVER requires me to wake up earlier than I want to.

What's your favourite magazine?
The Week

If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Right now? Lunch.

Describe your personal style?
Umm, let's not. Ok, if I had to give it one word, I would say "nerdy". There you go.

What are you going to do after this?
Plants Versus Zombies

What are your favourite films?
Life is Beautiful, Battle Royale, Princess Bride, Royal Tenn., Stardust

What's your favourite fruit?
Cherries, I guess. More of a veggie person than a fruit person.

What inspires you?
outdoor beauty, sleeping dogs, musicals, food

Your favourite books?
David Sedaris and Stephen King. Poor SK is always getting shat on. I still think he's a great story teller. Endings? Not so much.

Do you collect anything?
Oh God, this is embarrassing. Cat whiskers. Don't ask.

Any advice that’s come from bitter experience?
Girls is bitches, yo. That's all I got. And no, I don't mean you.

What makes you follow a blog?
If I read something and think "that is something I could have said", then I'm all over it. Narcissistic, no?
.::.

The rules (revised): 1. Respond. 2. Tag four other people.

I am tagging: Windy Days, Margo, PF, and Kori. Do it!

No, no. I'm Meeester Neusbaum.

2009-06-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

This shit is so funny that it has been hauting my dreams.

Check it out. Really, if you don't I'll fart in your purse.

Good Shit, Bad Shit

2009-06-12T08:10:00.000-07:00

Back in high school my friends and I were very into keeping lists. It was a fun way to put things in perspective and most often they took a humorous turn. These lists ranged from who the cutest boys/girls at school were, to who we were going to invite to a specific party, to what my self-admitted slutty friend should do next with her labia.

Good times.

This prompted a couple of my friends to create one large master list. Or a pair of lists really. The Good Shit/Bad Shit lists.

These were epic. Most everything or everyone found themselves in these lists, somehow.

We weren't always the nicest of crews, I'll admit it. We used to have a string of really mean and hilarious nicknames that we called various people behind their backs. I'll spare you(and my coworkers, because if I was forced to conjure up all of those names I would be rolling on the floor and howling my ass off), because I don't want all of my readers to hate my guts. But, I know. We were immature and assholes. What can I say?

I am shamed, but also still amused by it all. So, in honor of the glorious lists of shit both good and bad, I am going to do my own today.

Good Shit:

*Fridays (yes, still talking about them)
*mild weather (Florida can go suck a dick right about now)
*dogs (my love nuggets of fur)
*clean anything (sheets, floors, showers, clothes, dishes...)
*coffee (with real half and half, none of this fat free bullshit)
*drinking with friends (5 o'clock here I come)
*health insurance (come on Obama, health care should be a right, not a privilege)
*home grown tomatoes (the best thing June in Florida has to offer)
*my boyfriend (aka "my man candy" - when he's good)
*burt's bees lip balm (the holy grail of lip balms)
*air conditioning (without this little wonder, I wouldn't survive the Florida summer. NO WAY. Someone would complain about the smell and they'd find me days later curled up in my freezer. Naked.)
*lightening bugs (I saw my first one two days ago!! They are so magical to me. Their asses provide light. Wtf?)
*make-up (I love being able to change the way I look for the better. It's really kind of miraculous, the before and after, isn't it? Covering up those dark under eye circles does wonders for my self-esteem)

Bad Shit:

*HUMIDITY (it's in a caps for a reason)
*The Hills (who is watching this crap?)
*Sardines (my boyfriend eats these like they are going out of style and the smell fucking KILLS me!)
*Horm Worms (these little, green sons-of-bitches are wreaking havoc in my garden.)
*My BIG FAT GUT (nuff said)
*Religion (Especially extremism. This goes for them all, I'm looking at you Judaism. Kidding. Sort of.)
*Sunburns (I've got pasty, Irish skin. Sunscreen is my BFF, Jill.)
*getting rained on (This has been happening to me a lot. May be fun for a movie moment when you and your significant other are frolicking and end up kissing, because THAT, totally happens. Not so fun if you are in work clothes going to a meeting.)
*public speaking (why, yes. i DO have to do that later this afternoon. thanks for asking!)

So, there it is. Tell me - what is your good shit and bad shit today??

"To Keep the Big Ones High and Dry!"

2009-06-05T13:41:00.000-07:00

Beaches, how I love thee.

This got stuck in my head this afternoon. Thought I'd share.

Enjoy!

Salvation in a Speedo

2009-06-05T08:30:00.000-07:00

I wrote about this in a blog comment the other day and it struck me as something that might make for blog material.

Back in the summer of 1997, when I was 16 and had just learned to drive, my friends and I decided to take a little end-of-the-school-year trip down to the beach. It was just for the day mind you, but this was strictly forbidden by my parents who thought all of my 16-year-old driving skills should be kept within the Tallahassee city limits. Which in hind-sight, was incredibly wise of them. Of course at the time it seemed like nothing but a hindrance to All Things Fun.

So, being the only one of my friends who could not only drive, but also had a car, I was selected as the Designated Driver. Which didn't have anything to do with alcohol. Back in those days we didn't have any access to buying alcohol and therefore always went without. We were plenty high on our youth anyway.

So, we loaded up my car with a few essentials: a loaf of Cuban bread from Publix, slices of lunch meats, chips, and glass bottles of Coke. I've always loved Coke in a glass bottle. It seems so luxurious to me for some reason. Tastes better, too.

We drove about an hour and a half down to the coast, grabbed a blanket from my trunk and had ourselves a nice little picnic by the water. It was so calm and lovely that day, I remember. What little food we had seemed to taste extra good. The ocean seemed extra sparkly. I can only imagine it was the glow that comes with breaking the rules.

Either way, we had a fucking blast.

Then the sun dipped lower in the sky and it was time to pack it in and head it home. We gathered up our stuff and headed to the car. As I approached the vehicle I got that awful dropping feeling in my stomach.

WHERE WERE THE FUCKING KEYS?!?!!?!?!

Yeah. In my car. My locked car.

OK,don't panic, I thought, though panic was clearly setting in. Ummm, extra key? My parents have the extra key! Well, ok that's out. Ummmmm.... fuck!

With no good option in sight, I quickly melted into a puddle of sorrow and fear. I was completely without a plan of attack. Nothing like this had ever happened to me and I had zero experience to draw on.

Then, like a biblical moment, my Saviour appeared. He was a short, round, hairy Mediterranean Man. In a Speedo. AND a mesh shirt. I shit you not.

In that moment he was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

With very few words, he strutted up to my car. He had some sort of tool, and used it to open my trunk (was he a professional criminal? where had he learned such a skill? i'll never know.) He then fiddled with my back seats which were able to be pushed down, thus opening a way for me to craw into the car. And I did.

It was a miracle.

Keys in hand, I grabbed that sweaty, hairy stranger and hugged him.

"You do not do that, again, ok?", he said. I wasn't sure if he meant locking the keys in the car or hugging him. Either way, I agreed.

More than 10 years later I still fondly recall that event fairly often. Well, whenever Speedos are mentioned. Or someone tells a story about locking keys in a car. Or when men with excessive body hair come up. Whichever.

So, to you Mr. Hairy-Mesh-Shirt-Wearing-Speedo-Man, where ever you may be, thank you for being there when I needed you. You hold a special place in my heart.

It's tha Freakin' Weekend

2009-05-29T08:33:00.000-07:00

It's Friday today. Friday is without a doubt the best day the week has to offer. Even though it involves going to work for me and Saturday and Sunday do not, I prefer Friday hands down. Because Friday gives me that wonderful, electric feeling that the weekend is looming. Sometimes I think I enjoy the anticipation of the weekend more than I enjoy the weekend itself.

I don't know. All I know is that the best I feel all week is when I push through the doors and walk to my car on a Friday afternoon. There is always a spring in my step. A song in my heart? No, no that's too cheesy.

Tonight I will get off of work around 6ish and head home to be with my man and three doggies. And my mostly forgotten cat. We will pour a couple glasses of wine and chill out under our fans on the back porch and with our plants. I will get a little tipsy and wax poetic about something or another. My boyfriend will dutifully listen to me blather on while practicing his disc golf putts and all will be well with the world.

And tonight, we will watch the Soup. I fucking LOVE the Soup. Joel McHale can have my baby any day.

You know what else I love? Dave Chappelle. Most of all when he is playing Rick James. I'm sure that most of you out there have seen this gem, but if not you really should.

I miss the Chappelle Show. It going off the air was "Cooold blooooded".

So tell me good peoples: what is your favorite day of the week and why?

I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire

2009-05-22T11:27:00.000-07:00

Last time I was with my grandmother (the one I have written about here before), I sang her the lyrics in the title of this blog. Uncertain that she would recognize the song (I am no singer, and I really didn't know if she would have heard it or not), I looked hopefully in her eyes for some spark of recognition.

She turned to me, full of excitement and said "I just want to start a flame in your heart?"

For the Benefit of Mr Kite

2009-05-21T11:38:00.000-07:00

It's one of those days when bullets are your best friend. No, no. Not those kinds of bullets. These kind of bullets:

* I got twelve hours of sleep last night. There are those that say that amount of sleep is unhealthy, and perhaps even a sign of depression. I say that's the amount that body needs every night. Either that, or I'm dying. And I've always been dying.

* I am butt-ass-wild about my Roomba. It was the best gift I have ever gotten myself and it may be a while yet before I shut up about it. Just imagine how annoying I am in real life about it! Of course, I have convinced 2 friends, my mother, and my aunt to purchase one. Maybe I just missed my true calling: Roomba sales associate.

* I have a fancy (or rather, bullshit) title at my job, and every time I hear it I just have to laugh (at least on the inside) It's one of those things like calling a secretary an "administrative assistant" or a garbage man a "waste removal technical specialist". Wanna hear it? *Clears throat* I'm a Government Operations Consultant. Ain't that the fanciest bullshnarky you've ever heard?

* I take the antidepressant Effexor, and I really think it is a bad match for me. I get these dizzy, spinning feelings if I do not take it exactly on time each day. Even being an hour or so late causes me to feel like I am coming down with flu like symptoms (charming, no?). Why haven't I switched to something else/better? Because I am scared to death to go through the withdrawal symptoms that I have read about others experiencing. Seriously, there is some scary shit out there about Effexor. I hear that a group of patients are trying to get a class action law suit started against them. Something like 78% of people on it experience the negative side-effects. What the shit?

* My boyfriend and I just made our first serious purchase together. Drum roll please? We bought a brand new High Effiency Washer and Dryer. I feel like a couple of energy star, front loading spaceships just landed in my laundry room. There are lights and buttons and digital displays. It's clothes washing ecstasy!! Confession time: when they delivered those babies, I sat myself down on the floor with a flashlight and watched a whole load wash, rinse, and spin. Illegal substances may or may not have been involved. Don't judge me!

* My sun sugar tomatoes have been a huge disappointment for me this year so far. Their flavor is a pale shadow of what it was last year. When I had my first one last year, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. The flavor was so rich, sweet, and fruity. This year it tastes much like a watered down piece of crap. WHY?!?

* I am a proud (ok, maybe proud isn't the right word) watcher of total crap TV. I watch all those stupid "Of Love" shows on VH1. And I do mean all of them. I watch Solitary which comes on, dare I say it, the Fox Reality Channel. I know, I know. It's the brain equivalent of junk food. There is just something so pleasing and relaxing about watching dumbasses make even bigger dumbasses out of themselves.

* The sound of my ticking biological clock is getting louder by the minute. This is only fueled by the fact that literally every person I have ever know is either pregnant or just had a baby (ok, maybe not literally) I have not one, but two pregnant step sisters at this very moment. Almost all of the blogs I am into are written by mommies (though, not necessarily "mommy blogs") Logging into Facebook and Myspace is somewhat akin to looking through a photo album of Leon High Alums baby pics. I WANT MY OWN BABY, DAMMIT!!!!

* The older I get, the more of a prude I become. Sad, but true. As a teen and younger adult I could talk about the dirtier details of sexual encounters until the cows came home. I never blushed over graphic details or use of vulgar language, and I never had any compassion or understanding for those who did. It's a part of life, and all that. Well, the older I get the more I DO blush and even wince at the descriptions of certain acts. I have recently begun listening to the Dan Savage Lovecast. Which is both hilarious and very informative at the same time. But, oh my. It turns me all shades of pink and purple. If you are less of a prude than me you should check it out. Also good for those trying to fight their prudish way (aka: me).

* I am a terrible speller and user of English grammar. I promise I am not an idiot, I just type like one sometimes.

* I highly doubt that I am cool enough to have any lurkers, but I can dream. If you lurk here, please feel free to say hello! I love a good comment. And a correspondence is even better!!

In the Garden

2009-05-11T12:23:00.000-07:00

So, as I have said, things in my garden are finally starting to grow and bloom and (can it be?) set fruit. I thought I should finally offer a little proof of this in the form of photos.

I sincerely hope that this doesn't bore everyone to tears. Remember you can click any picture to make it bigger.

This one is of mostly everything that I have from a distance. Mostly what you can see up front are the tomatoes.

These are three cherry tomato plants. If you look close you can see the little clusters of green cherry mates.

These tomatoes shown here are from the silvery fir plant. They are my tomatoes that are really getting big.

Ok, I know this one is blurry, I just wanted to show the color on my one orange sunsugar tomato that is ripening. (Note- much to my chagrin my boyfriend plucked this tomato the next day even though it wasn't fully ripe. Boo!)

These freaky beauties belong to my Roma tomato plant, the "Blue Beech" I believe. I love the oddness of their shape.

These are my "veggie plants" (okra, eggplant, cucumber, and squash) right after I planted them. The were soo teeny!!

And, this is what they looked like a few days back. And they are even bigger today!

This is a closeup of a eggplant bloom. I think that they are such a pretty color. I didn't realize until I looked at this picture on the computer that it was covered in tiny, creepy, green bugs!

Pepper plants! The little ones are HOT and the longer ones are Banana peppers.

This is my little Lemon tree. Its a Myer's lemon. I know it doesn't look like much, but if you could have seen how it looked a few months ago, you would be impressed.

And these are the lemon blooms. They smell so nice when they open!

Here is my confederate jasmine. I thought I had killed it when I cut it at the roots, but no. I can only imagine it has an extra set of roots in the ground in my neighbors yard. The smell is amazingly rich and thick.

Last, though certainly not least, is my baby doggie. He is 8 months already! Jeez! (I don't know why I can't post it the right direction. I'm a bit 'challenged' in that regard.)

So, that's it. Tune in soon for more ripening!

Journey to "God" - Part 3

2009-05-08T11:55:00.000-07:00

I need to back up a step here and describe for you one of Baba's claims to fame. As God, Baba holds the sole responsibility for, well, everything. But being God does have it's perks, and along with the all responsibility of the Universe comes a few magical powers. As I mentioned in a comment on my last blog, Baba is thought by most of his followers to have the power to heal the sick and raise the dead.

But of course as God he doesn't see fit to spend very much time on those two activities. No, Baba prefers to spend a large amount of his time bestowing blessings upon the blessed. By this I mean Baba's western followers, and specifically those with enough money and means to travel halfway across the world to see him.

Like my father.

So, in the middle of darshan one day he is plucked from the huge crowd of worshippers, and along with a few other people he is rushed off to a special room used only for "interviews". After a few moments of nervous chatter they are all instantly silenced as the tiny God-Man enters the room. He greets them all one by one. He asks them their names, their origins. (One would assume that this information would be known to God, but perhaps he was being polite, you know.) He then takes my father into another smaller room. They are alone for a moment, just God and my Dad. And then Baba does what he is famous for.

He asks my father to hold out his hand. My father does as he is told without the slightest hesitation. He knows what is coming next. With a wave of a hand and a flick of the wrist, Baba "materializes" a small object and drops it into my fathers hand. It glistens. "Die Mind", Baba says to my father looking deeply into his eyes. "Die Mind", he says again and points and the ring. "Die MIND!", he says a final time and points a finger at my fathers head.

My father calls me later that day. Though a crackly connection he tells me he was called for interview.

"Well", I ask, "How was it?"

"I'll tell you all about it when I get home".

By the time my father arrived home the ring had begun to chafe his skin and turn his finger a slight green. None-the-less, he wore it every waking moment.

It wasn't long before I came to see him and take a look at his "blessing" for myself.

My father thrust his hand toward me with glowing pride to view the divine gift. Now, I am no great judge of these things, but I would say the stone in the ring was at least five karats. It had a circumference a little bigger than that of a dime. It was set in yellow gold and on my father's manly hand looked like something a mobster would wear. I winced in both shame and revulsion at the tackiness of it.

"Die mind", my father said. "That what he told me when he gave me this. Because I am supposed to let go of my mind and give over to my divine self. That's what this ring is supposed to remind me, to let go of the physical world."

Uh, really? A huge diamond ring? Meant to lessen one's attachment to the physical???

"Are you going to get it looked at? I mean by a jeweler?", I asked full of hope.

"Oh, no. That would be doubting God. Besides, I know that its real, so it doesn't matter what a jeweler would tell me", he replied with great certainty.

"But, Dad, surely you have to be at least a little bit curious. I mean, if it were real and you could prove it... just imagine", I pushed hoping he would bite. My father is nothing if not practical when it comes to things with monetary value, and I thought that if I could get him to take it in and have someone tell him it was just a rock that he would wake up from all this insanity.

"No."

"Well, let me take it in. Let me doubt God, Dad! I don't mind. Really."

He shook his head in disappointment.

The human spirit will go to great lengths to see what it wants to see and avoid what it doesn't.

Despite claims in the media and on the Internet that Sai Baba is everything from a charlatan to a child molester, my father's faith holds strong.

Dad still has his ring and has worn it every single day of his life since Baba gave it him.

Journey to "God" - Part 2

2009-05-05T08:46:00.000-07:00

So, my father went to India.

Let me say, that India is a place that I have never been. I have heard great tales from those who have visited, and those stories have formed a picture in my mind of what it is like. I imagine a place unbelievably rich with history and legend, filled with wonderful and mystical smells from curries and incense. A place where the people are more spiritual and in touch with the "Divine" than something you would ever imagine seeing in the Western world.
Heaven on Earth.
Overlaying this image, like a clear plastic sheet used for an overhead projector, is another image of what India is. A place so dirty and polluted that your boogers turn black from breathing in the air, a place where they do not use trashcans (in some towns) and litter lines the streets. A place where poverty reaches levels that are mind numbing to witness. Small children beg in the streets for food and money and babies are passed around as props for "mothers" who are trying to gain extra sympathy when panhandling so they can get enough money to feed their real children.
Hell on Earth.

In hearing these descriptions of this far off land, I can truly understand how such a place could leave a big, huge impact on a person. How in such a place small things could seem large. Everyday things could seem miraculous. Something false could appear as something true.

Which brings me back to my father. My father who had always searched for some enlightenment, for salvation. To be close to what is Holy.

This is when my father first heard about Sri Sathya Sai Baba. Or "God", if you will.

When he had returned from Egypt he had brought numerous Ankhs carved from metal or drawn on papyrus and varying hieroglyphic forms of art. Souvenirs from a journey. But when my father came home from his first trip to India, he seemed even more excited and energized than he had been from his trip to Egypt. And his souvenirs were all the stranger.

Upon his arrival home dad called me into his room. He had something "very important" to show me. He pulled out a framed picture of a short, Afro wearing Indian man in a orange robe. "Do you recognize him?" he asked, eyes wide with excitement.

"Yes!", I said without a mocking tone. "He looks just like a darker version of the dad from happy days that does those Glad bag commercials now."

"He knows you.", dad said. "He knows everything. He is God incarnate".

Uh huh.

At this point I was getting pretty used to my dad coming home with all sorts of weird, spiritual accountrements, so this was just one more to add to the collection. I really didn't think too much about it. It was a phase he would pass through and then he and the Agape folks would jet off to some other part of the globe and he would find a new bizarre thing to fixate on. No biggie.

Though my logic was solid, I could not have been more wrong.

Dad started to distance himself from his beloved Michael Beckwith (good riddance, I said)and his Agape church and drew closer and closer to Sai Baba. Michael may have been his former gateway to God, but Sai Baba? Well, Sai Baba WAS God and you can't get any closer to The Divine than that, can you? Dad just took out the middle man in the equation and went straight the source.

He began waking up at 4:30 am every morning to meditate. My father was not an early riser (much like me) and before this I had seldom seen him up before 8:00 am. He would burn incense and chant and "talk" with Baba.

He gave up eating meat and drinking alchol, because Sai Baba said to. He would dress in all white linen once a week and attend the local Sai Baba devotee meetings (yes, right here in Tallahasee).

He turned our former computer room into his devotion room. He had the whole thing draped in Sai Baba's traditional orange color (same as the robes that SB wears). He had orange candles for burning. He had orange incense holders to hold the incense. He bought picture frames made with special, expensive, non-reflective glass to display his pictures of Sai. He even had a chair that his beloved deity could "sit" in when he come to "visit" dad during meditation.

Dad began planning more and more trips to India. He would go as often as he could get away from his job, staying for several weeks at a time. He purchased an apartment in the city where Sai Baba lives, Puttaparthi, so that he would always have a place to stay near the ashram.

During this whole time, dad had never actually spoken directly to The Baba. He had attended Darshan, which is similar to Catholic mass, but even longer if you can believe it and you kneel on the floor THE ENTIRE TIME. During Darshan Baba will come out onto his stage for a bit and allow his devoted followers to sing songs to him. They wait all day just for this little glimpse of him.

It is every Baba devotee's dream to meet and speak with Baba in person. This face to face time with him is called "interview" and my father wanted it more than he may have wanted anything in his life. But, Baba said that only when a devotee has cleared his mind and heart of the egotistical desire to be seen, only then will he be called for interview.

And finally, my father was called.

Tune in soon for part 3.

sorry for the delay

2009-05-05T07:13:00.000-07:00

I will be trying to put out part II of my story today. I have been unavoidably detained by my Roomba.

I CANNOT STOP STARING AT IT.

Journey to "God" - Part 1

2009-05-01T10:42:00.000-07:00

So, before I get down into the dirt of this issue I would like to preface it. This blog is going to be about my father's religious beliefs and his journey to get to where he is today. I want to say that I love my father very much and that I truly belief him to be one of the smartest people that I know. He is not crazy, not even a little bit, in fact he is a very stable and responsible person. He is a good husband, father, and grandfather. He is a respected business man who has always worked hard and supported his family.

I say this because I don't want this to come off as disrespectful to him. Not that he would in a million years ever end up reading this (he is still mystified by google), but I don't want to misrepresent myself or my feelings about him. He's a really great guy and I know it.

But everyone has their faults.

So, to begin at the beginning, my father was raised as a Roman Catholic. His father came from a family of Italian immigrants, and just as Italian dishes filled our tables on holidays, so did the Catholic church fill the hearts and minds of my father and his siblings with Catholic dogma. All six children in their family were baptized and sent to Catholic school were the nuns would slap there little wrists for misbehavior. They grew up afraid of God, afraid of sin, hell, afraid of the nuns and their rulers.

This upbringing is quite different from my own. My father was "still Catholic" by the time I was born, but it played a much lesser role in my life. My father who had always sought some sort of salvation, still attended the church a few times a year. We often went to midnight mass for Christmas, just my father, my (half) sister and myself. My mother never went with us. I would kneel and pray. I would place the money my father would give me into the offering plate. I would watch as the adults lined up for the wine and cracker portion of the event. I understood very little about it, and would usually forget it all as soon as I left the building.

But this isn't really about me.

Around the time when I was in middle school my father took on his third wife. She was about ten years younger than my father, and not the brightest of bulbs, to be certain. But she was "spiritual", and soon my father and her were off to chase the wild goose that is "new age religion".

They started reading and teaching classes on Science of the Mind. Which led them into contact (somehow) with a church group out in California called Agape. The leader of Agape was a very charismatic man named Michael Beckwith, who I hear is now sporting dread locks and claiming to be Oprah's "spiritual adviser". Michael was a bigwig in the field of Hokey New Age Crap, and I think my father felt closer to achieving the "spiritual enlightenment" he wanted so badly while in his presence. I mean, if so many other people seemed to think that Michael had the answer, then surely he did. Right?

Michael used to take these fancy spiritual enlightenment adventures to exotic spiritual locations around the globe. His more affluent church members would come along for the ride. As a part of this my father went several places. He visited the pyramids in Egypt, he visited rock formations out west, and then, THEN, he went to India.

That's when the big shift came.

Sorry for breaking this up into two parts. I gotta build suspense somehow!

Something to iron out

2009-04-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

Remember how I have been whining about feeling a lack of energy and trouble getting up in the mornings for a while now? Check this shit out:

In talking with a friend of mine about what may or may not in fact be wrong with me (health wise, we all know I'm mental), it was suggested that perhaps I have an iron deficiency.

"Have you been thinking about eating dirt or rocks lately?", my friend joked.
"Well, I did find myself staring longingly at a bag of coal the other day. It lasted just a couple beats too long. That was sort of odd now that I think about it, huh?", said I.
"Duuuuuude, that called Pica."
"Pica?"
"Look it up."

And look it up I did.

In checking it out on Wikipedia (oh, how I love thee, dear Wiki) I saw that something like 20% of women in their child bearing years are anemic.

Has anyone out there had this problem? Where you able to fix it with just iron supplements or did you have to change your diet too?

I am heading out to the drug store asap.

Updatation Nation

2009-04-28T12:29:00.000-07:00

I feel this is somewhat overdue (almost wrote 'overdude' and had myself a giggle).

Things are blooming. Things are fruiting. Well, most things are anyway.

All of my cherry tomatoes are now at least carrying little, green, bee bee-sized tomatoes. Some are even showing the marble-sized full grown variety, though, of course, all are still quite green.

My full sized, slicer type tomatoes are starting to grow as well. Some of those are beginning to reach full size. Though not the larger varieties. Those will certainly take some time to reach their true potential. For instance, my Big Rainbow tomato plant, that reportedly makes tomatoes up to 5 pounds a piece (5 fucking pounds, for reals???) hasn't even produced a single bloom. Not one! I am beginning to doubt the fact that I will ever get to see one of the glorious bi-colored rainbows in the flesh. Sigh. Only time will tell.

I have within the last week found a few blooms on my egg plants. This is my first year with eggplants, so it was a most exciting find for me. The blooms are rather lovely light-purple colored things. Much, much larger than the blooms on a tomato. I am beginning to think that I have wronged my okra in some way as they aren't doing much of anything in the way of growing or blooming. Anyone know what this could be caused by? I am clueless on this.

On a completely separate note I have become completely obsessed with the Ipod touch and find myself spending entirely too much time day dreaming about an Iphone. Right now I am signed on with Sprint which would mean a switch in contract to ATT. Which, considering I fucking hate Sprint, might not be the worst thing in the world. Except for the pesky contract business... Still I am thinking about it. I can't believe I've been missing out on the Iphone wonder this whole time. Wtf?

Additionally, to add to my new high-tech-life upgrade list, I purchased a Roomba. I got one heck of a deal on it from the same website I ordered my Ipod touch from. Go ahead, judge me if you must. I'll pretend not to hear you from my couch over the gentle hum of a ROBOT THAT IS SWEEPING MY FUCKING FLOORS!

Man, 21st century. You are one sexy fucking beast! Now ravage me on my freshly swept floors!

Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-Touch Me, I want to be dirrrrty!

2009-04-22T08:27:00.000-07:00

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me, Creature ooofff the Night!!

Today is a beautiful today. Better than beautiful. Fan-fucking-tastic.

My IPod Touch arrived on my doorstep this morning. I cannot wait to get off work this afternoon so I can just dive into it head first. Playlists, apps, WiFi!?

If I'm dreaming, don't wake me.

Well, mutha dahling?

2009-04-20T10:53:00.000-07:00

So, I watched it. I really liked it. I will say I had some major doubts about seeing the Edies recreated. As huge as their personalities had been, I wasn't sure that anyone else could do them justice. And while I find Drew Barrymore to be both beautiful AND cute, something that is rare in Hollywood today, I wasn't sure if she had the acting skills for this role. I wasn't sure that anyone would have had the skills for this role.

But, I thought she played Little Edie wonderfully. Bringing her back to life, not as a cardboard cut out, but as the truly complex person she was. You can hear and see in her the pride, strength, and staunch character that was Edie. You can also see the sorrow, sweetness, and innocence that she embodied.

And Jessica Lange, as I thought she might, just hit it out of the park. She played big Edie so well that it was eerie. Her voice could not have been more have been more dead on. Her facial expressions were perfection.

Not to mention that whoever was in charge of their makeup did a bang up job as well.

All in all, I was impressed as hell.

And I just loved the last scene at the end after the credits rolled. They showed a quote from Little Edie about her mother and it almost made me cry. I thought it summed up the whole movie beautifully.

So, what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Tell me why!

Just a Reminder

2009-04-17T10:42:00.000-07:00

Don't forget to catch Grey Gardens on HBO. Saturday night at 8:00 pm!!

I will be expecting a full report on my desk by Monday.

fulfilling the need/the empty jar that is my head

2009-04-16T07:12:00.000-07:00

I have this burning desire to write something today, and I got nothin.

Here goes some bullets. Gotta love them.

- I had a nightmare last night about an argument with my step father, with whom I normally get along pretty well. The dream made my last few precious moments of sleep fit-full and restless. When the alarm tolled (and toll is does) I awoke to feel like I had been in a fight for my life. The feeling has yet to wear off.

- I have very vivid dreams and nightmares quite frequently. They generally have a lasting effect on my psyche that bleeds over into waking life. Most of my close friends are tired of hearing about these dreams and seem to think I should just "get over it". I don't have any idea how to do this. While I am, in fact, an adult and know that dreams "aren't real" I also know that sometimes they feel VERY real and that feeling isn't always so easy to shake.

- My father and mother have been married 8 times between them. Bless their hearts. (Shout out to Ms Moon) There are some serious stories here. One of my dad's marriages was secret, even.

- My father is one of the most unusual people I know. I love the man very dearly, but he is... out there. He is by FAR the most secretive person I know. If he isn't asking my step mother to keep a secret from me, he's asking me to keep one from her. And he never has figured out that the women in his life will talk to each other regardless. And don't even get me started on my father's life long journey for religion. That's a whole 'nother blog, man.

- My mother, too, is unusual, but in a more common sense of the word. She just turned 60 and is rapidly becoming a kooky, old, southern woman like its her job. She loves her dogs and her plants. She loves to make up words and alternate names for things (although that is a constant, and not a by-product of her getting older). She ADORES gazing balls. I'm thinking that the next thing on her list to cross off is crazy straw hats.

- I sleep with three dogs every night, in addition to one human male. I have a queen sized bed. That shit gets crowded.

- I think I might be battling something like chronic fatigue syndrome, though my boy friend thinks its just laziness. I am tired pretty much all the time, and I have the most unbelievably difficult time waking up in the mornings. I can't possibly believe that other people have as hard a time as I do. But, I have only ever lived as myself and have nothing to compare it to. I am way too ashamed to address this with a medical professional for fear that they will just tell me I'm lazy. Which would mean the boy friend is right. That can't be allowed.

- I have a lot of "ex friends" out there in world. This fact bothers the shit out of me. I don't like being "that person".

- I pretty much have decided that I hate working at a tradition job and that I am not cut out for it. Yes, I am at said job right now. Yes, I am blogging instead of working.

- I am grateful to the universal powers that be for having this job. I have learned a lot from it. I used to have the most powerful fear of public speaking known to man. Hell, I used to have a fear of speaking to people one on one. This job has required me to do enough public speaking that I had no choice but to get over it. In fact, I will be speaking in front of a group later today. Yee-haw!

- As much as my job is bringing me down at the moment, my boss is just the sweetest person in the whole world. Which stands in stark contrast to my old boss who was competing for the title of World's Bitchiest Old Cunt. That's right. The C word. I said (wrote) it. What?

- I really love blogging and blog reading. I never thought that I would. It makes me feel special and important, which is cheesy to say, but oddly true.

- Lastly I really love getting blog comments, so please, if you feel so inclined, leave me one. It'll be much appreciated I promise.

Ramblin' Rose

2009-04-07T11:15:00.000-07:00

When I was a little kid my grandmother was my favorite person in the entire world. She only lived about two hours away which afforded me the opportunity to stay with her quite often. Whenever my parents made plans to travel somewhere, I always stayed with her. If I was sick, which I was often as a child (shitty immumne system, I guess) if I couldn't be with my mother, then my grandmother was the next best thing. She would care for me and dote on me all day if I wasn't feeling well. It always made me feel better just to feel her soft, cool hands on my forehead.

My mother had been the only one of my grandmother's three children to have a kid. I'm sure she would have liked to have more, a whole house full of them if she could have. But since I was what she got she did her best to make the absolute best of it for the both of us. Determined that she would be my favorite grandparent, she turned one of the three bedrooms in her house into "my bedroom". There was a crib in there, which remained, even though I quickly out grew it, until just a few years ago. I guess she never wanted to give up hope that there might be another baby to fill it. The room also contained a canopy bed with a soft rainbow colored canopy and matching comforter. At the foot of the bed was a large pink toy chest filled with toys both new and old.

While I loved this room dearly (it was every little girls dream room), there never was any reason for her to have it, other than just for sweetness. Every time I can remember staying with her, I always slept in her king-sized bed with her rather than all the way across the house alone.

At night time when I would stay with her, after long days of playing with Barbies, watching movies, and visiting her older friends who couldn't get around so well anymore, we would lay in her giant bed and talk. We'd say our prayers, which usually began with words for god, but then eventually ended in a conversation about all the things, animals, and people we loved. At night time we would also listen to her old records. I remember this being the first time I heard "Hound Dog" by Elvis. There were also some others, Willie Nelson and the Everly Brothers. But her favorite, and mine as well, was always "Ramblin" Rose" by Nat King Cole. We both knew all the words and loved to sing along.

It's been years since those days now, and my grandmother is no longer the same lady she was in those days who traveled around to visit her less able-bodied friends. My grandmother is no longer "able" herself to do the simplest of things without assistance. Feeding herself, brushing her teeth, walking from room to room in her house, they all require help. She has a live in assistant to help her most of the time, because we (my family members and I) are not always able to be there. The situation is not ideal, but a better solution than putting her in a nursing home, I believe. At least this way she is able to stay at home where she feels most comfortable (even though she cannot always remember that it is her home). She is able to stay surrounded by the things she loved.

Among those things she loves is her old record player. And even though her little hands shake too much to put on the records, we get them out and play them for her while she lies in bed. And somehow, though she doesn't always know us, she always knows all the words. And her voice is still beautiful and sweet.

"Ramblin rose, ramblin rose
Why you ramble, no one knows
Wild and wind-blown, thats how youve grown
Who can cling to a ramblin rose?

Ramble on, ramble on
When your ramblin days are gone
Who will love you with a love true
When your ramblin days are through?"

I love you so much, grandmother. I always will. It's going to be so hard to have to let you go.

Just a taste of little Edie

2009-04-02T06:42:00.001-07:00

I thought I'd give you just a taste of little Edie, in her own words. This was one of my favorite moments in the film.

Yes, I'm obsessed. No, I don't know why.

Grey Gardens

2009-04-01T12:08:00.000-07:00

I've had a new obsession to keep me occupied while this never ending rain takes hold of my yard. I can no longer hover over my little plantlings and check for every little bloom coming in. Not without getting drenched.

So this left me with an extra helping of spare time on my hands. What to do, what to do? So I flipped on the TV and watched a few HBO previews. The ad for the upcoming movie about the Grey Garden's documentary caught my attention and revived a long forgotten memory about the Gilmore Girls.

Yes, I was a huge fan of the Gilmore Girls and have seen every (yes, every) episode. That is just the kind of nerd that I am.

Well, there is this episode of the Gilmore Girls that starts out with the two of them watching some very strange film. I remember lots of noise, terrible singing and a middle aged women in a head scarf. Ummm, ok. Wtf?

And then it clicks in my head. This movie that they are making for HBO is based on this bizarro flick the Gilmores were watching.

So, you are no doubt wondering, what does this mean? It means I sat right down and googled that shit. Grey Gardens wikipedia entry held little information and only served to further my interests. Who are these nutty women and why are they making a movie about a movie about them?

So, I watched it. And, let me say, it was unlike anything I have ever seen and yet instantly familiar at the same time. There is something about it that makes you feel dirty, like you are peaking through a hole in the wall at something... well, something you ought not to be looking at. But at the same time, they feel like they are your (slightly off) friends or family and you have been watching them go on like this forever.

The documentary covers the real life of experiences of Edith Bouvier Beale (Big Edie) and her daughter (Little Edie). They had been members of the American high-society: wealthy, well educated, beautiful. They were first cousin and aunt to Jackie Kennedy. Somehow despite this, they ended up living in total squalor and filth in what had once been a grand Mansion - Grey Gardens. Their home, over taken with raccoons and feral cats, seemed like a reflection of the lives these women were living. Dilapidated and forgotten, but still very much alive.

I watched it on YouTube where it has been broken down in to segments. I can't wait to see the HBO movie.

If you have seen this movie, love or hate, lemme know what you thought.

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and ...Basil

2009-03-27T07:06:00.000-07:00

There has been so much going on in my yard I just don't even know where to start. Sadly, I am not starting with a picture of my own, even though I have taken MANY (trust me, tons) I have thus far been too lazy to add them onto this computer, so for now they will have to wait, my pretties. The picture above was stolen from my dear friend, the internet.

But, I can tell you that we have been busy. When last I updated, I think we were at seven tomatoes? Well, there are now fourteen of them in the ground and two more patiently waiting their turns. In addition to what I had before I have added a number of cherry tomato plants - sun sugar (orange), black cherry (black - duh) and the brown berry cherry (sort of brownish red). I have done my research on flavor and these three all get super high marks.

I've got one little extra - the "Little Lulu" - a new strain that they are trying to develop over at Turkey Hill Farms. It was given to me free of charge by Ms Louise (Lulu) with THF. "Your job", she said, "is to grow this tomato. Then bring one tomato back to me. If it is what we are looking for then we will save the seeds for next years crop." This was so exciting to me, the opportunity to get involved with the developing of a new variety!

Isn't it strange the things that get your blood pumping as you get older? If my 16 year old self could see me now.

So, what else? We have planted several 'Black Beauty' eggplants, some cucumbers, squash of unknown variety, and some burgundy okra. I cannot wait to see the okra in action as they are going to have such beautiful blooms (pictured at top - isn't there something disturbingly phallic about those drooping okras? - ok, maybe I'm just a perv). These are all new for me this year, so it is all trial and error. Any advice is very welcome!!

Also, there are three strawberry plants, a number of different kinds of peppers, sorrel, pineapple sage (smells amazing!), three basils (I can't exist without basil. No, really.), rosemary, lemon thyme, mint, oregano, chives, parsley...

And perhaps most exciting to me is that my Meyer's lemon tree is coming back from the brink of death. Not only has it regained proper color (the leaves had all turned a sickly yellow) but it is sprouting nicely and even -- can it be? -- producing blooms!! If you have never smelled a Meyer's lemon bloom, you should run out and do it RIGHT NOW! It is the most wonderful smell you can imagine. So, with some luck maybe I will be getting a few lemons this year. How fitting, for Lady Lemon.

It is a pretty amazing amount of stuff, really. Especially for my tiny little yard. Pictures are coming soon, whether you want them or not!

Spring Forward!

2009-03-09T06:20:00.000-07:00

So, good news first or bad? Ok, good it is.

This weekend was a most eventful one for my backyard. In addition to lots of cutting and clearing, it got some new additions! This weekend the boyfriend and I put in 7 tomato plants and 7 pepper plants in addition to tons of herbs. I even decided to broaden my veggie-growing horizons and add a couple new things to the mix. So this year there is also an eggplant plant (is the second "plant" needed or redundant in that case?) and a strawberry plant! Plus, something new and exciting suggested to me by a friend of the cyber-web, Ms. Moon, a sorrel (sour flower) plant.

So, basically after all was said and done, the boyfriend and I looked around and realized that we had put in as much this weekend as we did the whole of last season. Because we have a tendency to go back out to the nurseries and stores as the season goes on, finding this and that, things we cannot resist. "A white tomato? Well, I know we already have orange, red, black, pink, and purple but..." More or less we have "pimped it out" and things are going to be at least double this year. So, if anyone wants some tomatoes, check back with me in a couple of months, I will be drowning in them for sure.

I got several varieties this year, and a couple "mystery tomatoes" that somehow made it home without labels. I guess we'll just have to wait and see with those. As for the varieties that were labeled, here is what I got: Cherokee Purple, Big Rainbow, Ciudad Victoria (teeny, tiny yellow currant tomatoes!!), Silvery Fir Tree, and a Brandywine Red. I hear the brandywines cannot be beat for their taste, but that they are very low producers, sometimes only giving up a mater or two per plant. Hopefully mine will fair slightly better than that.

I bought my tomato plants at the farmer's market in Tallahassee on Saturday (with the exception of the brandywine that came from Tallahassee Nurseries). There is a great group called Turkey Hill Farms that sells produce and plants. I am on their email list and they are wonderful - sending out a couple updates a week on which markets they will be at and what all they will be selling (let me know if you'd like their email address). They will even hold an order for you if you aren't an early riser. Which I am not...

Which brings me to my next topic. The "bad news" of which I am quite sure all of you are aware is that there has been a time change. Can I just tell you how much I fucking hate that bullshit? Ahem, pardon my loss of composure on the matter, but really, I do not understand why it is that we are all put through this every year. Not only is it painful and confusing for most of us, I have never been able to get an explanation of WHY it is that we do it that could satisfy me. I have heard everything from "kids getting on buses in the dark in the morning", to "kids helping their parents in the fields during summer", to "economic advantage", to "energy conservation". Let me tell you, I'm not buying any of that shit.

Let me put it like this: in the summer when the days are naturally longer, we are going to add an hour of day light to make them even freakishly longer - staying light until 9 pm. And in the winter, when it starts to get dark naturally much earlier, we are going to take away an hour and it will get dark at 5 pm. WTF? Excuse me? That is the most bas-akwards shit I have ever heard. Shouldn't it be the other way around, if anything? I can only imagine what sort of havoc this is wreaking on people with Seasonal Affective Disorder!

Ok, ok. Rant over. So, who's with me?

Out with the cold

2009-01-22T11:53:00.000-08:00

For my entire life fall has been my favorite season. Hands down. More specifically the month of October when the first hints of cooler weather can be felt in the air. The reason for this is simple: I don't like the heat. I don't like the feeling of dripping sweat just because I decided to walk the 20 feet to the mailbox and back.

But, I think I have had a change of heart. My new favorite season? Spring. Most specifically March.

Why?

Well, there is one reason and one reason only. I have become utterly obsessed with the idea of growing fruits and vegetables. Last year was my first real go at it and if I do say so, it went pretty well. Especially considering my extreme lack of experience in this department. I grew several large tomato plants in giant containers (as the soil in my yard is mostly clay and basically impenetrable). I had three kinds of basic red ones (better boy, celebrity, and parks whopper). I wasn't particularly impressed with any other them. I also grew several heirloom types (black prince, pruden's purple, great white, and rose). Mostly they were pretty good. The black princes (seen in the picture above) were probably the best of those. They were small, but plentiful and tasty.

But the creme de la creme of the bunch was not something I would have suspected. It was the easy to grow, yet amazing tasting orange cherry tomatoes that I grew! (Sunsugar variety - available at Tallahassee Nurseries) Now, as their mother I knew I had a bias. So I asked my friends and family to sample them all and everyone returned the same verdict. The sunsugars were the clear winner.

Tomatoes weren't the only food in my garden, but they were the dominant one. In addition, I grew a number of different kinds of peppers. Some small and hot, some big and sweet. My hot pepper plant was probably my favorite to watch as its growth was so prolific. From that one little plant in one 8 inch pot I had at least 100 mouth scorching peppers. I also grew some very beautiful purple Islander bell peppers that got huge. Their dark-purpley, egg-plant color changes from orange to red as it ripens. Sadly, many of them didn't make it as the dark color caused them to get burned by the sun. Next year I am going to skip the big, purple guys and stick with the mini-bells I got at Walmart. They taste just like a big orange bell pepper, but they are nice and little and easy to grow.

I also made my virgin jump into growing herbs, and oh my god, were they delightful. There is really nothing on this green earth that compares with fresh basil. There just isn't and of all the herbs I grew, the basil out-numbered them all. As in, I had more basil growing than all other herbs combined and I grew several varieties (Thai, Australian, purple African, and of course Italian). The African basil was a beautiful plant, but not so great to eat. The texture left something to be desired for sure. The Italian was really hard to beat, I must say. In addition to Basils-from-around-the-world I grew lemon-thyme, rosemary, bay leaves, oregano, and sage. It was a wonderfully herbaceous spring and summer last year. Basically everything that came out of our kitchen had a little pinch of something in it.

So, yeah. In case you can't tell by all the rambling, this has been just about the ONLY thing on my mind recently. March cannot come soon enough!

If you happen to read this and have any growing tips or plants I should try please pass them along. I have lots to learn and want to know it all!!

P.S. - The picture up top represents just one day of veggie collection. A small sample of what we grew! Aren't those black maters just the prettiest things you've ever seen????

The People You'll Always Miss

2009-01-21T08:58:00.000-08:00

It's cold today, as I sit in my office, not working. I spend a lot of time thinking in here. Staring at the walls and contemplating my life. Wondering at the state of things and all that it took to get here.

I think a lot about the people I don't talk to anymore. It seems to me that other people do a much better job of putting the past behind them. Of not digging up their own demons.

Mine are dug up at the moment, staring at me with vacant, rotting zombie-eyes. It seems at times like the deeper I try to bury them, the faster they re-surface.

Years ago I was best friends with a girl. She and I met in high school and became attached at the hip. When I first met her, I would never had pegged her as someone I would have been friends with. She was quite different from me. I was going through an adolescent wanna-be punk phase, and she was almost the cheerleader type. She was into make-up and curling her hair. A totally different breed from me.

But, to my surprise (I was fairly into judging a book by it's covers back then) she was very intelligent, and she quickly began to grow on me. We had several classes together and the friendship formed fast and firmly, as they are known to do when you are young and unspoiled by the world.

Our friendship lasted and we remained friends though college. We lived in the same town and dated boys that got along and quickly became a fierce foursome. We hung out all the time. Being together was priority one and when the weekends hit, that is where we could be found.

She and I were great at communication and that was what we did when left to our own devices. We both loved to talk, and we could go on for hours with out a moment of boredom. We had a similar sense of humor and spent a lot of the time laughing at ourselves. We could communicate volumes of information in a single glance. To this day there is no one else that I understand as much and as instantly as I did her.

She and I had a little hate for each other, even in the loveyest of times, as girls often will. Jealousies would brew and subside. Squabbles would occur, as in any good relationship. But all in all, I had her back and she had mine. I trusted her with every one of my secrets. She was my go-to person when things were bad. My safe haven.

Well, I guess I was not wise enough to see the writing on the wall, smell the fire on the breeze. But surely enough, things were burning, and I think I blinked and when I turned around the foundation of what my life had become was crumbling.

At that moment that the realization hit, it was like being punched in the stomach and slapped in the face at the same moment. It knocked every bit of wind out of my body and left me reeling.

She and my boyfriend (of 7 years) had been cheating. By the time I realized it was happening, it was in full swing and had become a full-blown relationship. And they were leaving me. Both of them. For each other. Neither one of them, it seemed, cared as much for me as they had decided they did for each other. I was nothing but in the way.

I would like to say that I swept all the pieces of my heart up and turned the other cheek or some sort of metaphor that makes me sound strong. But, that is not what I did. I cried and drank and cried some more for about a year. It was by far the hardest time in my life, which I guess shows that I haven't been through a lot of really hard times. But still, in my world, this leveled me for a long time.

It was so hard to wake up in the morning back then. To unavoidably find myself wondering what they were doing. To all too well be able to imagine the interactions between the two. Things that may or may not have been said about me. Them watching the shows we used to watch together. our future plans - their future pans. To wish with all my might I could talk to my best friend, my go-to person, but know what kind of option that was.

She became the biggest source of pain in my life.

And now, I can see what was so hard for me to see back then. That everything that happened to me was for the best. That there was no good in having people like them in my life. That if it hadn't happened when it did, it would have been something else, some other time. I am with a wonderful guy now, much better than my old boyfriend could ever think about being.

And yet it still hurts. And odd as it is, I even miss her. When I'm not thinking about how much I hate her. How much it all hurt. I will see something funny, or read a good book, or try a new lotion and want to tell her about it. But I know that I never could.

So those thoughts are just for me now. And sometimes it is hard to know what to do with them.

I have never found anyone to replace her. At this point I don't think I could even form a friendship like that. It hurts too much to put myself out there, and I don't know if I could trust some else like that again.

I find myself all too often thinking about her, as she is so wrapped in so many of my memories. The happy as well as the sad.

Lookout, Mountain!

2008-12-15T13:24:00.000-08:00

Ever have that feeling where you really want to write a blog, and you really want it to be a good one, but you have no idea what to write about.

Yeah, so I'm having that right now.

Things are busy here at work and I can't help but fall into procrastination mode. I need to be getting everything in order so I can take some holiday leave. Not to mention I need to update our new online system, which I am supposed to be done with by TOMORROW.

I haven't even started yet.

I have so much that I need to get done this week. Shopping, wrapping, laundry, packing, etc. Friday (or maybe Thursday night, depending) the boyfriend and I are driving to Lookout Mountain, Tennessee for some good ole fashioned family time. A bunch of us will be there. My dad and his wife. My sister and her husband plus their three kids. Possibly some other folks, and us, of course. Not to mention I am bringing two of my doggies with me. The third will have to stay at home with my mother due to his, um, issues. One of the other two dogs is a puppy. Three month old baby dauschund-poodle mix (doxie-poo they call it. ick.) With a three month old puppy bladder.

This will hopefully be a fun experience. Not to mention being worth the 7 hour plus drive. There AND back. With dogs.

But, even if things with the family are boring or crappy, none of it will have been for naught if it does what it is supposed to do. Which is snow.

Oh, how I am crossing my fingers for this! Snow, while it may be a nuisance for Northerners, is something of a delight for us Southerners.

As Governor Blagojevich would say, "it's a golden *bleeping* thing".

So, Mountains here I come! You better be prepped and ready for the white stuff. And if so much of it comes down that we just can't drive back home, well that'll be alright too.

(PS- I took this pics on this Mountain last time I was there. Isn't that some view!)

30 years later - Jonestown

2008-11-18T08:27:00.000-08:00

I never really knew that much about Jonestown. I guess that would be because it happened a couple of years before I was born. But still it would seem that something of that magnitude would have reached me. Somehow, I avoided reading or hearing too much about, knowing only that it was a tragedy and no more.

Well, since today is the 30th anniversary of the events at Jonestown, they have been showing all these documentary-style shows about it this week. I watched one called "Witness to Jonestown" on CNN and if you haven't seen it, I really suggest that you do. It shows a lot of the footage that was taped the day of the mass suicide/murders, prior to them. I have never seen anything as eerie before in my life, and I have seen some pretty freaking shit. I cannot help but be fascinated by the kind of power wielded by such evil masterminds as Jim Jones. While it absolutely disgusts me, it intrigues the part of me that studied psychology to no end. I think I should read a book by one of the survivors. I can only imagine the kind of "survivor's guilt" that those poor people must live with.

However, I would avoid "Escape from Jonestown" with Soledad Whats-her-face. Its one of those where they take the family members to the place where their loved ones died and ask enlightened questions such as "how do you feel standing here?". That crap makes me sick. It's really journalism at it's shittiest and most vulture-like.

Baby craze

2008-11-12T08:31:00.000-08:00

So, now that I am getting older, I have more and more friends that are having babies. A girl I was good friends with in Highschool just had one a few months back. More than one ex-boyfriend has made the leap into fatherhood.
The more of this I see, the more I want my own baby and wonder why it is that I don't have one yet.
Then I remember how much I love to sleep in, and I figure that perhaps it is for the best that I have not made that plunge just yet.
But still, I seem to be wanting it on some level that is beyond the realm of the conscious mind. Call it societal pressures, or call it biological clock - every time I see a baby it gives it a weird feeling. Every time I see a baby in some one's arms I instantly want a baby in my arms! But it's more than a desire to hold one, it's more irrational like a craving. Like when you want Salt and Vinegar chips and NOTHING else will do.
So, perhaps it won't be so very long until I have one. The boyfriend and I are finally getting to the first point in our lives where we make enough money to actually support a little person in our home.
For some reason, I feel like my time is limited, even though I am only 28. I feel like I am losing the baby race.

The winds of CHANGE

2008-11-05T09:00:00.000-08:00

I still can't believe it. I feel so happy today, and prouder than I have EVER felt to be an American. Everything is going to change. This is going to give everything a whole new meaning. And this is just the beginning.

I cannot wait to see what happens next.

I love me some Fleetwood Mac!

2008-10-17T10:48:00.000-07:00

So, I am admit it. I am a huge FM fan. I have been ever since I grew up listening to them on the oldies station that was MY station. I think it was 98.9, but at this point I really cannot even recall. All I remember is that is was the only one I listened to for years. It played all the great 70's classics like the Eagles, Eric Clapton, and of course, Fleetwood Mac.

It seems that this all stuck with me and formed my taste in music and years later those songs I was humming on the bus on the way to elementary school are still the ones I listen to on my Ipod today.

Historically speaking I have been a big fan of Stevie Nicks. How could you not? Those lips, those eyes, that hair! Her mysterious and witch-like wardrobe! And not to mention the voice! She is undeniably fabulous.

Well, the other day I was bored and cruising through the comcast On Demand menu and I happened upon the making of "Rumours" on VH1 Classics. I had to watch it!

Through out the program, they highlighted each band member of the band and there individual contributions. But, rather than play up Stevie and down play the other members as is usually the case, they highlighted the value of Christine McVie as a talented songwriter and musician. They played a song of hers that I never heard on the radio growing up. Or ever that I can remember, for that matter.

So, for your viewing pleasure is a little tribute to the less visible member of Fleetwood Mac!

Why?

2008-10-14T13:52:00.000-07:00

Why is it that some mornings you wake up and feel great and glad to be alive and other mornings you wake up feeling like you got hit by a train?

I am having one of the latter today and it is just kicking my ass.

Maybe I need to look into a new antidepressant. I've been having too many days like this lately. Every activity seems like a source of anxiety and annoyance.

I'm sure it isn't helping that after three days home they sent the boyfriend out again. He'll be back Friday... or Saturday.

Why do I dread being alone so much? Why do I feel so much better just knowing he's home with me, even if we are in separate rooms doing different activities?

How is it that depression can just suck the life out of you and make you dread existence when there is nothing wrong externally? What kind of crap evolutionary flaw is that? I should feel good. I should be happy to be alive, young, healthy.

I wasn't kidding

2008-10-10T10:17:00.000-07:00

Since my ranting blog a few days back about all the disturbing weight loss adds they show on Myspace, I decided to start a little collection of these charming images, just to highlight the extent of this problem.

As screwed up as my self-esteem was during adolescence (and still is) I can only imagine the impact that this sort of advertising is having on younger girls today. And, lets face it: 90% of them are on myspace everyday.

Remember this is only what I saw during one week of regular use!

"I think these frames are giving me earmarks."

2008-10-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

So, who's watching the VP debate tonight? I know that I am, but sadly I will be watching it alone as the boyfriend is STILL in Tampa (only one week left now!!). I do wish I was going to be having some sort of get together so that I could put these to good use:

http://www.palinbingo.com/

I read in People magazine today, that Sarah Palin's glasses frames have become "all the rage" in the mid-western states and that the company that produces them is having trouble keeping up with the demands. The cost of those hideous things? Upwards of $375 a pair (not including lenses). How the average Joe (or Jane, rather) is keeping up with that nonsense, I have no idea. Especially with this economic failure looming.

Ah, the good ole US of A. One thing about us, we sure do know how to prioritize, don't we?

I hope to see Biden chew her up and spit her out. But, as is always the case, he can't be "too harsh" or he will come off like an "elitist" or "sexist", telling poor, dumb, female Sarah Palin she is about as useful to the country as those glasses frames are to the bank accounts of the Midwesterners sporting them.

I don't have much hope that Biden will bite his tongue, no matter how well they have prepared him. I am just crossing my fingers that she will say something so utterly stupid that it won't matter if that vein in his head explodes.

a sickness of society

2008-09-29T13:30:00.001-07:00

If I have to see one more picture like this, I think I am going to lose it.

Every time I open up my facebook and/or myspace pages, I am forced to look at this crap! A picture of a normal sized, but maybe not Hollywood looking mid-section and an anorexic one. No faces. They are placed side-by-side with a quote similar to the one above. "How I lost lots and lots of weight without diet or exercise.

These images make me feel physically ill. Not so much for the harm it does me to see these, although there is some left to be done, I'm sure. But for the most part I have had to go numb. I am hating it for all the young, impressionable girls that are seeing this, 20, 30, 100 times a day.

As if it isn't hard enough to be a young woman in America? As if there isn't enough pressure to try and look and certain way. As if they need this extra kick to the crotch of their self-esteem and a daily basis.

Oh, and on facebook, they have this one that pops up and adds your age into it. It says "27 and over weight?" with the accompanying photos.

I hate this aspect of our culture more than I have the words to express it. I hate it for the harm it has done to me and every other woman who lives in it. I hate it most for the younger girls, who still have some innocence left. I hate it for invading every apsept of my thinking.

I am an overweight 28 year-old. I have struggled with my weight for many years, finally ballooning up in the last couple of years due to the anti-depressants that I take. I can't not tell you how much of my life energy has been wasted on thinking about body-image. Picturing the perfect body that I would never have. Staring at my body in the mirror and giving myself mental plastic surgery. I want that time and energy back.

Weather Bug

2008-09-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

I am sooo totally in love with the weather I barely know what to do with myself. There is something about the first few, sweet days of fall that makes me feel so happy to be alive. Like I am 14 and falling in love for the first time all over again. Something about the way it feels when the ever-so-slightly cool breeze brushes past me makes me feel electric. Like I am feeling the molecular exchanges happening on the tiniest of levels.

It just makes me smile like a fool. A fool in love with the weather, I guess.

I long for this beginning to fall all summer long, and when it eventually rolls around, it never disappoints.

And it's just a few days early this year. Which makes it all the more a blessing. It can never come soon enough.

And summer, that hateful bitch, has crawled off to lick her blistery wounds for one more year.

Dead Batteries

2008-08-28T06:35:00.000-07:00

So, I am nearly at the end of week number two of single living. This week has been a lot harder to deal with than the last. I think that there were a few reasons for this. First, last week I had people calling to check in on me. I stayed a lot busier, visiting my mother and going to see my dad for his birthday. Friends were dropping by. Last week I found myself almost wishing for some alone time. Which brings me to reason number two - I've had an over abundance of alone time this week. I've had all that time I was longing for last week - to sit around and watch the Gilmore Girls on DVD.

All that time alone has just made me depressed. I've have been listless, lifeless, and completely devoid of energy. Mopey.

This is what I was afraid of. I remember now that this is why I was keeping myself so busy last week, so I wouldn't have time to feel this way.

And then there is the third reason. The boyfriend is really getting into his own groove down there. He's been making friends with his co-trainees and trainers. He isn't calling me on the verge of tears wanting to come home. It was easier to hold it together last week, when I was holding it together for his sake. Now that he is just zipping along, I find myself feeling sadder and lonelier. More pathetic.

And, of course, I have not been able to force myself to do any exercise. OR housing cleaning projects. The two things I was "looking forward" to getting into while he was gone.

All this is compounded by the fact that he accidentally took my plug in phone charger with him. And even that wouldn't matter SO much if the battery in my phone wasn't on its last leg. Due to this, I am spending about an hour a day sitting in my car with my phone plugged in, just to get enough charge to be able to talk with him for a few minutes a day. Oh, and the first night of this, I killed my car battery. What a moment of unbridled anxiety that was. Dead car. Dead phone. No way to get to work or call in to work to tell them I wouldn't be there. No way to call a friend to give me a jump, or even a ride.

Ugh.

So, tomorrow after work, I will head home, ,pack up my dogs and hit the road. I am driving down to Tampa to see the boy and his new home away from home. This is, of course, assuming that I make it through the night.

Wish me luck.

feeling blue

2008-08-18T08:42:00.000-07:00

I like to think that I have some things to say. Yet whenever I sit down to write something, I don't know how to put it down. Certainly not in any way that I can imagine anyone enjoying reading it.

I am really feeling down today. My boyfriend just left to go to an 8 week training last night. I know that in the grand scale of human suffering this ranks pretty damn low, but it's still painful.

He is my everything, as cheesey as that sounds. I don't know how else to put it accurately. He is the person I most love to be with. He really is my best friend (although I have heard it isn't always wise to be best friends with your significant other, hogwash to me). He is the person who knows me best and understands me. The person who makes me laugh the hardest and most consistantly.

And without all that around me, I am really and truely sad.

I find myself standing in my very still-seeming house, trying to take inventory of my options. Looking deeply at my dogs, thinking that perhaps they will present me with a course of action. I just don't know what to do with myself.

My house is so quiet and clean. I find myself wishing that there were dirty clothes to pick up off the floor and dirty dishes to cart to the sink. I can't help but want to keep the TV on, whether I watch it or not, the constant chatter keeps my mind from letting itself feel really lonely.

And, or course, when I need a good cuddle, there are always dogs to be cuddled.

I know that the key to keeping the sadness at bay is to just take it one thing at a time. "I'll just think about what I will have for dinner and I will deal with everything else as it comes."

I just wasn't cut out to be a loner. I certainly would never become a hermit. Not unless I could have another person to hermit with me. Can hermit be used as a verb? Can you be a hermit if someone else is with you? I think I might be wrong on both counts.

are you my daddy?

2008-08-14T13:03:00.000-07:00

Today I went to a meeting where I work. My department, as all departments, has a head. "The Ring-Master". The guy who makes everyone scurry around when he comes. They run around in circles and ring their hands. They lay out pieces of pound cake on fancy doilies and fill the punch bowls. They hope for the chance to shake His hand.

We'll call this guy "Bill".

We'll he's kinda of a big wig, throughout the state, this guy. Served in lots of positions over the years. Bill knows all the right people.

Well, I know something about this guy, you see. I mean, beyond the rumors that we all hear about our bosses. "He has a drinking problem", "He cheats on his wife", etc. I know something... a little juicier on this guy.

I know he has an illegitimate son.

How, you may ask, do I know this? Well, I know his son. And he told me about this in confidence (hence my secrecy on the matter). And no, I have never seen the results of any paternity test. But, I have seen Bill and I have seen my friend, and let me tell you, there is very little room for doubt on this. They look just alike.

So, I went to this meeting and everyone scurried and applauded this guy, who lives his whole life pretending to be something that he isn't. And I just kept thinking, "I know." And I kept wondering what would happen if I just stood up, and blurted it out. How would he react to this? How would the audience of my "peers" react to this? I would only be speaking the absolute truth, however inappropriately timed it might be. Could they fire me for something like that??

But, alas I sat quietly with my little hands folded in my lap and waiting for it to be over without eeking a word. I so completely lack the balls for something like that. Well, of course I lack balls as a female, but you know what I mean - metaphorically. I've never even told one single co-worker, out of respect for my friend.

I guess I just hate all the lying in public offices. There's such a deep well of potential scandels out there, and I know we will never hit the bottom of it.

Sigh.

First timer

2008-08-13T11:57:00.000-07:00

This is the first blog I have ever written. No, I haven't been living in a cave for the past decade. I am more of a voyeur, than an exhibitionist, so I have had a great deal of experience with the other side of the Blogosphere. But with the reading side of it.

What, you might ask, has caused me to take this plunge into blogatation? I've decided that I think it would be a good way to expand myself through writing. Whether it gets read by anyone or not, it will make me feel good, just putting words down on the page and sending them out into the universe. And maybe, just maybe it will help me connect with someone who feels some of the same things that I do.

I guess it is best to start these things with sort of an introduction. I am a 28 year-old female. College graduate, state-worker. Girlfriend of two-ish years to a good guy, owner of dogs, daughter, sister, aunt, niece, grand-daughter. Not a mother, not yet anyway. Liberal in a red state. Formerly broken-hearted, narcissistic, grudge-holder, with a little more hate in my heart than I would like to admit in public. Hell, in private either.

I have a little bit of hate for everything and everyone these days, it seems. I hate people because they are like me and I hate people for being different, too. I hate extremes, good or bad. Lately, I even seem to hate the people I love the most, and while this saddens me, I do not know what I can do about it. I like to think that this is something that all people feel, at least sometimes, but I really have no way of knowing whether or not that is the truth.

I, like everyone in the entire world, have a past. I went to public school and was tormented, as so many of us were. I was a weird only-child, with lacking social skills and a chubby physique. I endured no more than my fair share of childhood torture, I have come to learn. It did not make me special or unique in any way. If anything, it is just par for the course.

I grew up in a middle class home, with a my mother, who did most of my raising. My dad wasn't a horrible father, but certainly lacking in many ways. He wasn't home nearly as much as he could have been, as he was busy with working and running around on my mother. This, of course did little to help the depression that she was already suffering. My mother was good to me and did the best she could with what she was given to work with. I was never abused in a physical sense, I never went to bed hungry. It was a pretty typical growing up experience.

I don't know where all of my negativity comes from, and I don't even know if it was always this way. I just know that I seem to have a hard time holding on the positive and a hard time letting go of the negative. Even though the intellectual side of me knows that it is an unhealthy way to live.

So, I'm gonna try for a minute to focus on the things in life that make me the happiest. I think this will be a good activity for me at this moment:

Cuddles

Southern Food - and really food in general

Time off from work

Dogs

Making new friends (even though this one is a rare occurrence)

Fires in the winter

the first day of Fall in Florida

big families

driving early in the morning

sleeping

being with my boyfriend

That's all I got for the moment.

What I want to get out of this, is hopefully a better idea of why I am the way I am. Maybe I can spot some of the patterns in my life and correct them. Maybe someone out there can give me some insight in how to accomplish these goals.

Please feel free to post comments if you happen to drop by. Negative and Positive both welcome!

Also, I picked this dog to represent myself. Needy and a little confused. But able to kick an ass if need be.