I’m better. And here’s hoping I don’t have another PMS post for a long, long…long time. ‘Nuff said about that.
Portland was hit with a small snow/ice storm over the weekend. It’s been colder than this witch’s tit for almost three weeks. Clear, bitterly cold and very windy. Though I don’t care for the amount of rain the Pacific NW gets, I was actually hoping it would come so there would be cloud cover to keep in a little heat.
On Sunday, Hot Toddy, K9 and I were having lunch in the hippie district before helping Hot clear out the loft. K9 noticed half way through lunch that it had begun snowing. I watched with a certain excitement while enjoying the change (even though it didn’t represent warmth). Being a Dago girl, snow isn’t commonplace for me.
I watched it snow and realized how much I missed Auburn Aries. She had only been at her Dad’s two days and there I sat with a lump in my throat that the first time it snowed this year, we weren’t together. I grabbed my cell phone and called her to tell her the snow was on its way. Hearing her little voice caused me to tear up, I miss her so much.
We managed to get quite a bit of stuff out of the loft. I was glad we were getting it out simply because, for me, it meant that my best friend was actually living with me. He AND his belongings.
I could feel Hot’s energy all day long. As we were waiting for our lunch, I glanced up at one point and asked Hot where he had gone [mentally] and what was wrong. He laughed and shook his head saying how funny it was that I knew the second he felt something. I sat through lunch that day with two men each who carry their own burdens, pain, and uncertainty and I felt every second of it.
I was grateful that I didn’t have much of my own stuff going on so their broken spirits had somewhere to land to find a moments peace. I don’t think people realize what goes on for an intuitive person like myself. Nor do I care to explain it here. But I realized that even though sometimes I may not realize it (or times I need to hear it), I do know my place in this world.
My contribution may not be great or significant in any global sense. But I know I’m important to my family.
We ended up getting iced in Sunday evening. I made fajitas and margaritas and me, Hot Toddy, K9, and Willie hung out. It was very relaxing for me. I didn’t allow myself to get hung up on household chores or any of the other stuff that always needs to be done.
We sat/stood around in the kitchen listening to music and laughing. As I prepared dinner, I watched my friend whose spirit is being knocked around like a small sailboat centered in a storm on a big, angry sea. Toddy posted today about the last year and his moves. As I watched and felt him Sunday afternoon and evening, it occurred to me just how strong Todd truly is.
Sunday night it was as though I was watching a best and worst of compilation for both Hot and K9. I flashed through the year Todd’s had. The moving, the love, the heartache, the lessons, the lost and discovered boundaries, realizing the depths of love he is capable of giving, coping with being deceived, learning who is true friends are…the list goes on and on.
People say that I’m the strong one. I’m often asked how I do it. How I hold it together. How is it I’m able to be strong for so many. Yet I stood before my friend and could feel his inability to breath right now. I could feel the coldness of the depths to which he has fallen and could feel his legs feverishly kicking beneath him, unwilling to succumb to the darkness.
It is you, Sweet Toddy, who is the strong one. You’re surviving it. Each and every day you open your eyes and experience one more day this existence has to offer you, you’re surviving it. Once you get to a place you’re not just surviving it but once again thriving in all this lifetime has to offer you is when you’ll know the balance in your life is back. Hang on, Toddy. You’re almost there.
Hot, please never think of yourself as weak. You have had a tough year, my darling friend. Everything will be okay.
I reflected on the images I got from K9 that night as well. Similar struggles, trust issues, unhappiness, no sense of belonging. He’s only spoken of his life and experiences but the images are as clear to me as though I were there. He doesn’t read my blog. Probably best he doesn’t following my crazy rant the other day. Besides the words I would share with him would likely fall on deaf ears as he, too, has been deceived, let down.
I realized that night that I play a role in the lives of the people I love. Even on days I doubt I make a difference, I do – just by being there.
I’ve reflected on the last year with all of my chosen family. I needn’t list them here, you already know who they are. I’ve witnessed change in each of their lives. I’ve felt the pain when they’ve felt it; I’ve felt the love when it flowed freely; I’ve watched each of them grow as human beings much the same way I have.
I am blessed – even by the occasional stray puppy – that I have crossed their path for a reason. I cannot begin to tell you how my family has changed who I am as a person or how much they have reminded me what unconditional love is.
I had a chat with Ren the Rockstar earlier today. She is another loving friend who picks up my pieces when they fall. We attended a Christmas soiree over the weekend. I attended wearing this black, floor length strapless number and my stilettos. When Ren saw me, she did a double take. I was flattered.
She said this morning that what she saw when she looked over at me was ultimate confidence. How it is that that makes me as beautiful as I am. She spoke of how she has never known anyone who was more sure of their place in the world.
Sometimes I spend time wondering what the hell I’m doing – why am I working this job; am I living my life the way I’m supposed to be; am I missing my true calling… And then I think about this weekend, my chosen family, and the words Ren spoke and I realize I’m living my life exactly how I am supposed to be which is surrounded with these amazing people.
We all need each other and if it’s one thing in which I am absolutely confident, it’s in the love of my friends, my family. It’s the depth of people like Pua, Young Stud, and Ren and everyone I consider my family that make me realize that I am right where I’m supposed to be.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
PMS Two days later...
Though I have not had the privilege of bleeding and getting it over with (as my Spiritual Equal, Young Stud, said this morning – it shall happen tomorrow up on the full moon) I am feeling some type of relief.
Communication goes a long way, does it not?
Hot Toddy and I had a good talk. I told him how I miss my friend and our talks. The Aub and Hot time needs to come back. He gave me a little Thank You card the speaks of how much he treasures me. Sometimes I guess just hearing it and not having to know the unspoken truth exists inside, helps.
I had a heart-to-heart with K9. I told him exactly where I was at with everything. He said that all I’ve done is be a great friend to him and he’s been so wrapped up on his own stuff that he ended up in an bad place.
After my writing the other day, I sat in C.C.s with Hot Toddy, Ms Karma and The Math Whiz and watched K9 work. He is a good guy. I watched him and could feel his pain inside. Damn Piscean luck – more energy to carry around. I felt horrible about venting. Though it did help and it’s my blog and I chose to use it to find clarity.
Helping someone isn’t always convenient. If helping people were easy, more people would do it.
Auburn Aries is still the light of my existence. She leaves tonight to go to her Dad’s for a week. I don’t see her until Christmas Eve. In as much as I need a little time to myself, I will be lost without her by my side. But while she is away, I will go to the Santa extreme and give her another year of magic.
I’ll have some Aries Christmas anecdotes next week. By then, all should be well.
Communication goes a long way, does it not?
Hot Toddy and I had a good talk. I told him how I miss my friend and our talks. The Aub and Hot time needs to come back. He gave me a little Thank You card the speaks of how much he treasures me. Sometimes I guess just hearing it and not having to know the unspoken truth exists inside, helps.
I had a heart-to-heart with K9. I told him exactly where I was at with everything. He said that all I’ve done is be a great friend to him and he’s been so wrapped up on his own stuff that he ended up in an bad place.
After my writing the other day, I sat in C.C.s with Hot Toddy, Ms Karma and The Math Whiz and watched K9 work. He is a good guy. I watched him and could feel his pain inside. Damn Piscean luck – more energy to carry around. I felt horrible about venting. Though it did help and it’s my blog and I chose to use it to find clarity.
Helping someone isn’t always convenient. If helping people were easy, more people would do it.
Auburn Aries is still the light of my existence. She leaves tonight to go to her Dad’s for a week. I don’t see her until Christmas Eve. In as much as I need a little time to myself, I will be lost without her by my side. But while she is away, I will go to the Santa extreme and give her another year of magic.
I’ll have some Aries Christmas anecdotes next week. By then, all should be well.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Put your seatbelt on
Aub’s pissed.
Forgive the rant on which I am about to embark. It needs to be duly noted that I am PMS’ing. In as much as I’ve managed to get through my entire life with few symptoms of this monster, I am finding that as I get older (i.e. over 40) it rears its ugly head in the form of intolerance or tears.
The tears part is no big deal but today the intolerance must find an outlet and my blog shall bear the load.
Buckled Up?
What the fuck is wrong with people? I’m serious. This question covers a broad spectrum of people. Let’s start small.
Why is it that Auburn Aries tells me it’s 7:10 this morning (I like to leave my house by 7:20) and then proceeds to walk around the house in bare feet for the next 15 minutes even after I’ve told her to get her shoes on? What the hell is it in her clusterfuck of a bedroom could be so gd important that she’s willing to risk my temper flaring first thing in the morning?
Is there a bag of cash that fell off an Armored truck that she’s been hiding in there somewhere? Is Angelina Jolie laying in there with her legs open waiting for me? Is there a letter telling me her dipshit father is moving to the bum fuck Egypt where he belongs?
I don’t think so.
At 7:25 I stood in my kitchen counting to ten, silently.
How is it also that I bought her the book Narnia and she can’t find it. It’s a frickin’ week old and it’s missing. Can you say where’s the $130 Columbia coat I bought her last winter that she lost one week into owning it. Okay, in her defense it was tied around her waist and fell off while at school and no one bothered to return it. Nice. I’m sure the new book is with the coat.
She’s wanting the Narnia book set but I won’t buy it until she finds the new one I bought her. GD kid thinks money grows on freakin trees.. Want want want want want. I swear – she’s got more shit than she even realizes she has. She appeared with a beautiful bracelet on her wrist last week and when I asked her where she got it she said she found it in her stuff. Yeah, I’ll bet she did.
Moving on.
How is it possible that people can come to me and vent or ask my advice or need a shoulder to cry on and tune my ass out after I’ve taken the time to try and help them, only to find out that when someone else gives the same gd advice suddenly it all makes sense and person b, c or d is a gd Saint for helping him see the way?
Christalmighty, why the fuck do I even bother?
I have stood steadfast by the side of someone very, very dear to me. I’ve listened to every worry, concern, hurt feelings, lost love, broken heart, every tear, every bottle the was dove into… I’ve looked out for this person in his highs and lows only to find I’ve ended up the person in the background whose words don’t seem to matter anymore.
I did the ground work… the grunt work if you will and now there are three other people whose friendship have become the hallmark of true friendship. Grrrrrr. I know these three people and I love them all. They are not bad people in any way, shape or form. But every time I think about the fact that I was there through it all and now there’s no time for me, makes me cry.
And then.
Hot Toddy and I met a guy less than a couple of months ago that had just moved to Portland from Denver. I shall call him K9. K9 is a man who has traveled the country. Over the course of four or five years he lived in 32 states. He has wonderful stories to tell and doesn’t look back on his choice to travel and see the world with any regret.
He is athletic – he rides café racers, he snowboards, he is fearless when it comes to taking a risk. He is a true adrenalin junkie. Immediately after he moved to Portland he found work as a male stripper. Yes, this guy’s body is that hot. He has a natural physique that most men have to go to the gym three hours a day to get. Biceps like huge rocks. Built in six pack abs. A v-shaped torso that is simply a thing of beauty on which to cast your eyes.
Tired of stripping he took a low-key job at, where else, C.C. Slaughters. This is how Toddy and I met him. He spoke of his struggle to settle-in in a town where he knows no one; where he is unfamiliar with the geography of a city; of how he’s been robbed four separate times after moving here.
His car was broken into a couple of different times. His expensive snowboard stolen, his snowboard gear stolen, his satellite laptop stolen from underneath a bed where he slept and thought he was safe. His photo albums of all of his adventures, gone. His motorcycle leathers, gone. Money stolen. How this guy has managed to stay and overcome something that would have robbed me of any faith I had in mankind, is beyond me.
After conversing with K9 for a couple of hours, he shared how his goal is to stick it out and not run from adversity. He wanted to save enough money to get himself an apartment – someplace that he could call home and that he was proud of, rather than renting a room in someone else’s house and paying $125 a week for a daybed and a bathroom.
Toddy and I talked about it and decided to offer our home to K9. This poor guy can’t get a break and we wanted to help.
So a over a week ago, I talked to K9 and extended the offer. Toddy was willing to give up one of his bedrooms downstairs and I would not charge him rent so that he could save up for his own place. He wanted to be in something by the end of this year.
Sounds great right? Well then why the hell isn’t this guy looking at apartments? Is my gd house just too gd comfortable? The agreement was through December which means, uh, tic tock, tick tock motherfucker. Don’t tell me you’re saving for an apartment and deposits and then talk about buying a new snowboard.. Unless you plan on using it for a pillow when you’re out of a place to stay. I'm your friend not your gd fairy godmother.
Now please understand, I do not regret the decision to help K9 out. He’s a sweet guy. But all my routines are out of whack. There’s no bed downstairs yet and he’s staying upstairs. I know I seem like a total bitch complaining about this but let me remind you…PMS!!!! I know in a day or two none of this will matter, but for now…
K9 tends to be negative.. rightly so I’d imagine. But I’m silver lining girl. I see the glass half full. He called me yesterday at 3 p.m. to tell me how Oregon sucks ‘cause there’s nothing to do. How he sat in my house all day and was bored beyond belief.
I’m from San Diego. It is still my home in my heart of hearts. Though I’ve lived in Oregon 16 years, it will never truly be home to me. However, I have lived here long enough to know there is an asston of shit to do up here. Oregon is beautiful.
I told K9 to drive up to Multnomah Falls (after I said the name 19 fucking times because Multnomah sounds like PAH-TOE-MA on a cell phone) and hike the falls. Or go to Mt. Hood and rent a snowboard and burn off some energy (can’t do that “because rental equipment sucks”) or hike the Butte behind my house and get some fresh air. Or ride his $2k mountain bike on the Butte. Do something. But whatever you do, don’t bitch because you chose to sit in the house all gd day. I found it odd that he did just that.
He reminds me of Bohdi (Patrick Swayze) in Point Break who, throughout the entire movie, experiences rush after rush from so many wild adventures. At the end of the movie, Johnny Utah (Keanu Reeves) finds Bodhi in Australia surfing and tells Bodhi he’s come to arrest him for all the robberies blah blah blah… to which Bodhi replies, “I can’t live in a cage. I’ll die there.”
K9 is Bodhi. If he’s not running full-speed with his hair on fire then he’s not going fast enough. I’m 42 years old (K9 is 31). My perspective is different. Don’t ask my advice and then not bother to consider it…oh, wait, I’ve already addressed a subject similar to this one.
K9 has found himself frustrated by his job as well. He’s a straight man working in a gay bar where he doesn’t feel accepted because he’s different. He feels discriminated against by the very people who preach non-stop about being treated the exact same way.
What the hell is it with me trying to help the stray puppies? Toddy and I were laughing about this other day. He and I are just alike that way. I know I just have to put my patience cap on but until my PMS subsides, I need to stay busy so I don’t get like this.
And then there’s the trek I made to Pioneer Place to take Aries to see Santa and pick up her Nintendo DS bundle. EB Games was out of DS. A quick search in the computer showed there are only two left in this area. The next closest is 2,000 miles away. So today on my lunch hour I’m driving north of Vancouver, WA to pick up the gd game.
And Santa… that fat bastard. His sorry ass was gone when he finally got down to see him at 7 p.m. Aries was crushed. We go to Pioneer Place every year to see Santa. She put on her cutest shirt and put clips in her hair and stood there with a sad little face like she didn’t know what she was going to do if she couldn’t talk to Santa. I promised her we would make it back to see him later this week. Now I have to carve more time out of an already busy week. A mother’s work is never done.
She’s been overwhelmed with kids at school telling her Santa isn’t real. She spoke of how Santa is real because parents couldn’t write out all those tags or wrap all those presents. How Santa is real because he leaves her a letter propped on the tree each year. How she’s seen the left over cookies the next morning and how he left chocolate chip smears on the napkin she left out and how he dunks his cookies because she saw the crumbs in the glass of milk and how he tracked leaves into the house.
She talked about how all the Santas in the malls aren’t the real Santa because the real Santa doesn’t have time to go sit in every mall. I told her she was right they weren’t the real Santa but they were members of a Santa club and that Santa actually hires each and every one. She was amazed and thrilled when she realized that the mall Santas have actually met the real one. She said that even though she’s never seen the real Santa she knows he’s real because she’s heard the sleigh bells and only Santa has the real sleigh bells.
All those little bastards in school need to shut the hell up. This may be the only year left of Aries believing in the magic of Santa.
I know I have Aries and I have Toddy and the rest of my chosen family all right here. But I can’t help but miss my bio family. I can’t help but acknowledge the emptiness that exists silently inside of me. Everything feels big right now. Not enough time, not enough money, no one to ask me how I’m doing and truly wait to hear the answer.
Again, I know my current state of mind is temporary and it’s entirely possible I’ll have to write another post admitting I jumped the gun. But for now, I’ll get through my day without losing my cool, thanks to this – my blog and your willingness to laugh at my plight. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be laughing with you.
Forgive the rant on which I am about to embark. It needs to be duly noted that I am PMS’ing. In as much as I’ve managed to get through my entire life with few symptoms of this monster, I am finding that as I get older (i.e. over 40) it rears its ugly head in the form of intolerance or tears.
The tears part is no big deal but today the intolerance must find an outlet and my blog shall bear the load.
Buckled Up?
What the fuck is wrong with people? I’m serious. This question covers a broad spectrum of people. Let’s start small.
Why is it that Auburn Aries tells me it’s 7:10 this morning (I like to leave my house by 7:20) and then proceeds to walk around the house in bare feet for the next 15 minutes even after I’ve told her to get her shoes on? What the hell is it in her clusterfuck of a bedroom could be so gd important that she’s willing to risk my temper flaring first thing in the morning?
Is there a bag of cash that fell off an Armored truck that she’s been hiding in there somewhere? Is Angelina Jolie laying in there with her legs open waiting for me? Is there a letter telling me her dipshit father is moving to the bum fuck Egypt where he belongs?
I don’t think so.
At 7:25 I stood in my kitchen counting to ten, silently.
How is it also that I bought her the book Narnia and she can’t find it. It’s a frickin’ week old and it’s missing. Can you say where’s the $130 Columbia coat I bought her last winter that she lost one week into owning it. Okay, in her defense it was tied around her waist and fell off while at school and no one bothered to return it. Nice. I’m sure the new book is with the coat.
She’s wanting the Narnia book set but I won’t buy it until she finds the new one I bought her. GD kid thinks money grows on freakin trees.. Want want want want want. I swear – she’s got more shit than she even realizes she has. She appeared with a beautiful bracelet on her wrist last week and when I asked her where she got it she said she found it in her stuff. Yeah, I’ll bet she did.
Moving on.
How is it possible that people can come to me and vent or ask my advice or need a shoulder to cry on and tune my ass out after I’ve taken the time to try and help them, only to find out that when someone else gives the same gd advice suddenly it all makes sense and person b, c or d is a gd Saint for helping him see the way?
Christalmighty, why the fuck do I even bother?
I have stood steadfast by the side of someone very, very dear to me. I’ve listened to every worry, concern, hurt feelings, lost love, broken heart, every tear, every bottle the was dove into… I’ve looked out for this person in his highs and lows only to find I’ve ended up the person in the background whose words don’t seem to matter anymore.
I did the ground work… the grunt work if you will and now there are three other people whose friendship have become the hallmark of true friendship. Grrrrrr. I know these three people and I love them all. They are not bad people in any way, shape or form. But every time I think about the fact that I was there through it all and now there’s no time for me, makes me cry.
And then.
Hot Toddy and I met a guy less than a couple of months ago that had just moved to Portland from Denver. I shall call him K9. K9 is a man who has traveled the country. Over the course of four or five years he lived in 32 states. He has wonderful stories to tell and doesn’t look back on his choice to travel and see the world with any regret.
He is athletic – he rides café racers, he snowboards, he is fearless when it comes to taking a risk. He is a true adrenalin junkie. Immediately after he moved to Portland he found work as a male stripper. Yes, this guy’s body is that hot. He has a natural physique that most men have to go to the gym three hours a day to get. Biceps like huge rocks. Built in six pack abs. A v-shaped torso that is simply a thing of beauty on which to cast your eyes.
Tired of stripping he took a low-key job at, where else, C.C. Slaughters. This is how Toddy and I met him. He spoke of his struggle to settle-in in a town where he knows no one; where he is unfamiliar with the geography of a city; of how he’s been robbed four separate times after moving here.
His car was broken into a couple of different times. His expensive snowboard stolen, his snowboard gear stolen, his satellite laptop stolen from underneath a bed where he slept and thought he was safe. His photo albums of all of his adventures, gone. His motorcycle leathers, gone. Money stolen. How this guy has managed to stay and overcome something that would have robbed me of any faith I had in mankind, is beyond me.
After conversing with K9 for a couple of hours, he shared how his goal is to stick it out and not run from adversity. He wanted to save enough money to get himself an apartment – someplace that he could call home and that he was proud of, rather than renting a room in someone else’s house and paying $125 a week for a daybed and a bathroom.
Toddy and I talked about it and decided to offer our home to K9. This poor guy can’t get a break and we wanted to help.
So a over a week ago, I talked to K9 and extended the offer. Toddy was willing to give up one of his bedrooms downstairs and I would not charge him rent so that he could save up for his own place. He wanted to be in something by the end of this year.
Sounds great right? Well then why the hell isn’t this guy looking at apartments? Is my gd house just too gd comfortable? The agreement was through December which means, uh, tic tock, tick tock motherfucker. Don’t tell me you’re saving for an apartment and deposits and then talk about buying a new snowboard.. Unless you plan on using it for a pillow when you’re out of a place to stay. I'm your friend not your gd fairy godmother.
Now please understand, I do not regret the decision to help K9 out. He’s a sweet guy. But all my routines are out of whack. There’s no bed downstairs yet and he’s staying upstairs. I know I seem like a total bitch complaining about this but let me remind you…PMS!!!! I know in a day or two none of this will matter, but for now…
K9 tends to be negative.. rightly so I’d imagine. But I’m silver lining girl. I see the glass half full. He called me yesterday at 3 p.m. to tell me how Oregon sucks ‘cause there’s nothing to do. How he sat in my house all day and was bored beyond belief.
I’m from San Diego. It is still my home in my heart of hearts. Though I’ve lived in Oregon 16 years, it will never truly be home to me. However, I have lived here long enough to know there is an asston of shit to do up here. Oregon is beautiful.
I told K9 to drive up to Multnomah Falls (after I said the name 19 fucking times because Multnomah sounds like PAH-TOE-MA on a cell phone) and hike the falls. Or go to Mt. Hood and rent a snowboard and burn off some energy (can’t do that “because rental equipment sucks”) or hike the Butte behind my house and get some fresh air. Or ride his $2k mountain bike on the Butte. Do something. But whatever you do, don’t bitch because you chose to sit in the house all gd day. I found it odd that he did just that.
He reminds me of Bohdi (Patrick Swayze) in Point Break who, throughout the entire movie, experiences rush after rush from so many wild adventures. At the end of the movie, Johnny Utah (Keanu Reeves) finds Bodhi in Australia surfing and tells Bodhi he’s come to arrest him for all the robberies blah blah blah… to which Bodhi replies, “I can’t live in a cage. I’ll die there.”
K9 is Bodhi. If he’s not running full-speed with his hair on fire then he’s not going fast enough. I’m 42 years old (K9 is 31). My perspective is different. Don’t ask my advice and then not bother to consider it…oh, wait, I’ve already addressed a subject similar to this one.
K9 has found himself frustrated by his job as well. He’s a straight man working in a gay bar where he doesn’t feel accepted because he’s different. He feels discriminated against by the very people who preach non-stop about being treated the exact same way.
What the hell is it with me trying to help the stray puppies? Toddy and I were laughing about this other day. He and I are just alike that way. I know I just have to put my patience cap on but until my PMS subsides, I need to stay busy so I don’t get like this.
And then there’s the trek I made to Pioneer Place to take Aries to see Santa and pick up her Nintendo DS bundle. EB Games was out of DS. A quick search in the computer showed there are only two left in this area. The next closest is 2,000 miles away. So today on my lunch hour I’m driving north of Vancouver, WA to pick up the gd game.
And Santa… that fat bastard. His sorry ass was gone when he finally got down to see him at 7 p.m. Aries was crushed. We go to Pioneer Place every year to see Santa. She put on her cutest shirt and put clips in her hair and stood there with a sad little face like she didn’t know what she was going to do if she couldn’t talk to Santa. I promised her we would make it back to see him later this week. Now I have to carve more time out of an already busy week. A mother’s work is never done.
She’s been overwhelmed with kids at school telling her Santa isn’t real. She spoke of how Santa is real because parents couldn’t write out all those tags or wrap all those presents. How Santa is real because he leaves her a letter propped on the tree each year. How she’s seen the left over cookies the next morning and how he left chocolate chip smears on the napkin she left out and how he dunks his cookies because she saw the crumbs in the glass of milk and how he tracked leaves into the house.
She talked about how all the Santas in the malls aren’t the real Santa because the real Santa doesn’t have time to go sit in every mall. I told her she was right they weren’t the real Santa but they were members of a Santa club and that Santa actually hires each and every one. She was amazed and thrilled when she realized that the mall Santas have actually met the real one. She said that even though she’s never seen the real Santa she knows he’s real because she’s heard the sleigh bells and only Santa has the real sleigh bells.
All those little bastards in school need to shut the hell up. This may be the only year left of Aries believing in the magic of Santa.
I know I have Aries and I have Toddy and the rest of my chosen family all right here. But I can’t help but miss my bio family. I can’t help but acknowledge the emptiness that exists silently inside of me. Everything feels big right now. Not enough time, not enough money, no one to ask me how I’m doing and truly wait to hear the answer.
Again, I know my current state of mind is temporary and it’s entirely possible I’ll have to write another post admitting I jumped the gun. But for now, I’ll get through my day without losing my cool, thanks to this – my blog and your willingness to laugh at my plight. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be laughing with you.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Why I love my blog
Being turned on:
Not *that*. But the fact that Toddy and Miz Karma and I were talking and laughing one day about how I should have a blog and Toddy totally turned me on to the whole concept and hooked me up.
Writing it:
I love sitting down and putting my fingers on the keys and sharing a story. I wish I had more time to do it.
Sharing pieces of my life:
I love that there are moments in my life that move me to the point of being excited about sharing them. Regardless of whether or not they are philosophical, sad, exciting, spiritual.
Comments:
Though I don’t always have time to get to as many blogs as I’d like to leave comments, I love that there people who read me and are moved to say something to me about what I have written.
Site Meter:
I love being able to peruse Site Meter and look at the cities and countries from which people read me.
Searches:
I laugh at some of the ways people find me via a search engine:
“Pisces trouble area”
“Santa been in dirty under a tree”
“Barbies having sex”
“Nipple weights blogspot”
“My boobs”
“Tall boots”
Friendship:
I love that I have acquired friends via this forum that I feel connected to and never would have met otherwise. I look forward to being able to peek into their worlds a little each day as well.
Blog names:
I love that whenever Toddy and I are in a social gathering he’ll say, “This is my friend, Marilyn” and get confused looks in return. Then says, “She’s Auburn Pisces” and people immediately know who I am. That and the fact that Pony and Hot Toddy call me Aub. I love that I can yell “hey Hot” downstairs and he answers me. It’s created another layer of closeness or intimacy that I appreciate.
Aries:
I love that I get to share some phenomenal stories about the sharpest little girl I know which makes me the proudest person alive.
Not *that*. But the fact that Toddy and Miz Karma and I were talking and laughing one day about how I should have a blog and Toddy totally turned me on to the whole concept and hooked me up.
Writing it:
I love sitting down and putting my fingers on the keys and sharing a story. I wish I had more time to do it.
Sharing pieces of my life:
I love that there are moments in my life that move me to the point of being excited about sharing them. Regardless of whether or not they are philosophical, sad, exciting, spiritual.
Comments:
Though I don’t always have time to get to as many blogs as I’d like to leave comments, I love that there people who read me and are moved to say something to me about what I have written.
Site Meter:
I love being able to peruse Site Meter and look at the cities and countries from which people read me.
Searches:
I laugh at some of the ways people find me via a search engine:
“Pisces trouble area”
“Santa been in dirty under a tree”
“Barbies having sex”
“Nipple weights blogspot”
“My boobs”
“Tall boots”
Friendship:
I love that I have acquired friends via this forum that I feel connected to and never would have met otherwise. I look forward to being able to peek into their worlds a little each day as well.
Blog names:
I love that whenever Toddy and I are in a social gathering he’ll say, “This is my friend, Marilyn” and get confused looks in return. Then says, “She’s Auburn Pisces” and people immediately know who I am. That and the fact that Pony and Hot Toddy call me Aub. I love that I can yell “hey Hot” downstairs and he answers me. It’s created another layer of closeness or intimacy that I appreciate.
Aries:
I love that I get to share some phenomenal stories about the sharpest little girl I know which makes me the proudest person alive.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Dog Gone It
One of the contributing factors to my tense Thanksgiving weekend had to do with a certain dog that Aries and I thought we wanted to adopt. My ex, Daddy D, donates time to a no-kill dog rescue in Washington. She called and told me about a dog they had obtained that was low-key and had a great temperament. Aries has been wanting a dog so I agreed to test drive the dog over the long weekend.
She was a Chinook/Pit mix. Absolutely beautiful. She was a very quiet dog; she was playful; she seemed very loyal. She didn’t eat the first three days she was at the house which worried me. Guess she needed some settling in time.
She kept looking back at her bottom so I took her to a vet on the Friday following Tgiving. This is where the chaos truly began.
With Aries in tow, we sat in the room waiting for the vet – almost 25 minutes. When the vet came in he pet the dog and said she probably had a plugged anal gland. Gross. Ew. Then as quickly as he told me of the problem, he started his aggressive diatribe about how I needed to get rid of the dog immediately.
I was confused. Two seconds prior he was petting the dog and rubbing her ears and now he was going off about how I needed to get rid of the dog because she was part Pit. He continued his criticism of the dog and spoke of a Pit Bull’s nature. They’re aggressive and born attackers (his words). His tone became mean. The dog that originally greeted him with a wagging tail was now hunched down and growling at him.
He pointed out that we had only had her three days and that it wasn’t too late to get rid of the dog before we have any more time invested. He pointed to the now growling dog and viewed it as confirmation of his point that she needed to be gone, destroyed…didn’t matter which. He said she had anxiety (well no shit, she'd been in a dog rescue kennel for a couple of months with no sense of belonging).
I looked over at Aries and her lower lip began to quiver. The area around her beautiful, tender green eyes was red as she fought back tears. She was in love with this 67 pound dog and did not want to give it up. She held the retractable leash tightly in her hand staring at the dog, her heart breaking.
I can deal with a lot of shit from people. I don’t have a problem at all being confronted. I can take being poorly spoken to with blatant disregard. I won't tolerate it, but I won't crumble if it happens. I will always stand my ground and stand up for myself regardless of how badly I may be shaking inside. It takes me but a moment to evaluate whether the person speaking to me is worthy of a response. It’s taken me a long time to learn to just walk away when it’s not worth it.
But when someone hurts my daughter in any way, the time lapse between patience and being fucking done is approximately 2.3 seconds. I come out swinging like a Momma Lion with her claws out.
The vet carried on with no hesitation. I quickly stood and stepped into his personal space. I addressed him as though he were still worthy of my respect which he was not.
“Sir, if you want to have this conversation then let’s have it one-on-one. Privately. Why don’t you take the dog in the back and treat her and let me calm my daughter down.”
“No,” he insisted. “She needs to hear this. This dog could kill her.”
I could feel the rage and heat screaming to the surface. Street-Auburn Pisces was ready to kick this fucker’s door in.
“NO,” I asserted, “SHE DOES NOT NEED TO HEAR THIS. JUST TAKE THE DOG IN THE BACK AND LET’S WRAP THIS UP.”
“You don’t understand,” he yelled, “This dog will maul her and there won’t be anything you can do about it. She needs to hear the truth. One day one of her little girlfriends is going to come over and reach down to pet the dog and this dog is going to attack her out of fear. Do you want that on your conscious?”
“Sir, isn’t it possible that the Chinook breed in her and the complacency that breed displays overrides the nature of the Pit that you seem so freaked out about? This dog has given me no cause for concern. We’ve spent three solid days with the her.”
“I don’t care what “brand” she is. The Pit Bull in her will kill your daughter.”
“SIR, YOU ARE OUT OF LINE. YOU’RE SCARING MY DAUGHTER – LOOK AT HER – YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO SAY THOSE THINGS IN FRONT OF HER AND I’M NOT GOING TO STAND HERE AND LET THIS HAPPEN FOR ONE MORE SECOND. I’M DONE.”
I grabbed the leash from Aries, ripped the door open and said “We’re leaving” as I nodded Aries out the doorway. There, sitting in the lobby, were other unsuspecting victims. I got 10 feet from the asshole veterinarian and heard him bellow “YOU OWE ME FOR AN OFFICE VISIT!!” He was waiving my new file in his hand.
Blown away by his idiocy and ignorance, I turned on my heel and walked right toward him. I never slowed down. I was beyond pissed off. I leaned toward him and pointed in his face.
“You had NO fucking right to have that conversation in front of my daughter. You had NO right to scare her. I was willing to talk to you about your concerns privately but you wouldn’t stop.”
“She deserves to know the truth!”
“SHE WILL KNOW THE TRUTH AS IT’S INTERPRETED BY ME. IT’S MY JOB TO PROTECT HER FROM PEOPLE LIKE YOU!!!”
I stormed out the door. Jaws in the waiting area had officially reached the floor. As he screamed about the cost of the office visit one last time, I told him to bill me and walked out – with a kid in tears and a dog that was so wound up I could hardly get her in the car.
I had to dig deep into the depths of my soul to find the patience to take care of Aries and the dog and put my anger aside. I got home and was talking to Hot Toddy about the whole deal. It’s like I told him, at least Aries has officially seen Street-Auburn Pisces and knows that her Mom isn’t scared to stand up for what’s right and that I will protect her at all cost.
The name of this place is Companion Pet Clinic, 3150 NE 82nd Avenue, Portland, Oregon. Don’t ever use them. Ever.
But wait, the story continues.
Later that night, Aries and I were watching movies. I had come down off my mad and had begun the hateful thought process of what I wish I could have done to that asshole. Until this point, the dog had either slept in Aries room next to her bed or next to mine on the floor.
Aries and I both fell asleep on the couches that night. I awoke at 1 a.m. and got Aries up and told her to just sleep with me and we headed toward my bedroom. The dog came walking out of the room as we entered. I didn’t think much of it.
Aries laid her little head down and says, “Why is it wet right there?”
I ran over and flipped on the light to find that son-of-a-bitch dog had pissed on my bed right in between the two pillows where your head would lay.
Not that big a deal you’re thinking? Guess again. I sleep on a king size Carrington Chase Coral Bay Plush bed. It retails for nearly $4,000.
The dog was cowering in my office which is through a set of sliding glass doors off my bedroom. I threw the door open, pointed at her and yelled, “YOU MOTHERFUCKER…YOU JUST BOUGHT YOURSELF A ONE WAY TICKET OUT OF HERE.”
Then I lost it. The weekend, the dog, the kid, the veterinarian, the cooking, the turkey that seemed to cook forever, no back up to catch me when I needed to fall. I started to cry. I didn’t know what to do. The bed is latex. The stain was bright yellow. It stunk. The mattress was supposed to have been treated but it didn't appear as such.
I put Aries in her bed and she tried her best to comfort me. She never sees me cry that hard and with my guard down like that. She just watched me wide-eyed trying to talk me down. Bless her heart.
Hot Toddy came in from a night at C.C.’s and in his drunken state of mind, grabbed wash cloths and Febreeze and tried to clean the spot. He appeared to have gotten the bulk of it out but needless to say, I would no longer sleep on my $4k bed. In fact, I spent the next five days on the phone with the mattress company working out a replacement.
I ended up paying for the replacement mattress. They sold a new mattress at a used mattress price of $1279. Bastards. I still have the old mattress and until I find that warranty card, it’s not going anywhere. There’s something about throwing out a $2k mattress that doesn’t sit well with me.
The dog slept in the garage from that night on. The next morning when I let her out to pee, she promptly jumped the fence like it wasn’t even there. Rebellious little shit. Twice I went after her to bring her back home. The second time I realized that I wasn’t willing to beg her to come home. I flipped her off and said, “bye bye, see you at later” and walked off.
She ended up coming back eventually. She jumped the fence repeatedly. I called the ex to come and get her, to no avail. I took her to the Southwest Washington Humane Society where Daddy D was supposed to pick her up and take her back to the dog rescue to be adopted out. Hopefully she’s found a great place to roam free with no expensive bed to pee on.
She was a Chinook/Pit mix. Absolutely beautiful. She was a very quiet dog; she was playful; she seemed very loyal. She didn’t eat the first three days she was at the house which worried me. Guess she needed some settling in time.
She kept looking back at her bottom so I took her to a vet on the Friday following Tgiving. This is where the chaos truly began.
With Aries in tow, we sat in the room waiting for the vet – almost 25 minutes. When the vet came in he pet the dog and said she probably had a plugged anal gland. Gross. Ew. Then as quickly as he told me of the problem, he started his aggressive diatribe about how I needed to get rid of the dog immediately.
I was confused. Two seconds prior he was petting the dog and rubbing her ears and now he was going off about how I needed to get rid of the dog because she was part Pit. He continued his criticism of the dog and spoke of a Pit Bull’s nature. They’re aggressive and born attackers (his words). His tone became mean. The dog that originally greeted him with a wagging tail was now hunched down and growling at him.
He pointed out that we had only had her three days and that it wasn’t too late to get rid of the dog before we have any more time invested. He pointed to the now growling dog and viewed it as confirmation of his point that she needed to be gone, destroyed…didn’t matter which. He said she had anxiety (well no shit, she'd been in a dog rescue kennel for a couple of months with no sense of belonging).
I looked over at Aries and her lower lip began to quiver. The area around her beautiful, tender green eyes was red as she fought back tears. She was in love with this 67 pound dog and did not want to give it up. She held the retractable leash tightly in her hand staring at the dog, her heart breaking.
I can deal with a lot of shit from people. I don’t have a problem at all being confronted. I can take being poorly spoken to with blatant disregard. I won't tolerate it, but I won't crumble if it happens. I will always stand my ground and stand up for myself regardless of how badly I may be shaking inside. It takes me but a moment to evaluate whether the person speaking to me is worthy of a response. It’s taken me a long time to learn to just walk away when it’s not worth it.
But when someone hurts my daughter in any way, the time lapse between patience and being fucking done is approximately 2.3 seconds. I come out swinging like a Momma Lion with her claws out.
The vet carried on with no hesitation. I quickly stood and stepped into his personal space. I addressed him as though he were still worthy of my respect which he was not.
“Sir, if you want to have this conversation then let’s have it one-on-one. Privately. Why don’t you take the dog in the back and treat her and let me calm my daughter down.”
“No,” he insisted. “She needs to hear this. This dog could kill her.”
I could feel the rage and heat screaming to the surface. Street-Auburn Pisces was ready to kick this fucker’s door in.
“NO,” I asserted, “SHE DOES NOT NEED TO HEAR THIS. JUST TAKE THE DOG IN THE BACK AND LET’S WRAP THIS UP.”
“You don’t understand,” he yelled, “This dog will maul her and there won’t be anything you can do about it. She needs to hear the truth. One day one of her little girlfriends is going to come over and reach down to pet the dog and this dog is going to attack her out of fear. Do you want that on your conscious?”
“Sir, isn’t it possible that the Chinook breed in her and the complacency that breed displays overrides the nature of the Pit that you seem so freaked out about? This dog has given me no cause for concern. We’ve spent three solid days with the her.”
“I don’t care what “brand” she is. The Pit Bull in her will kill your daughter.”
“SIR, YOU ARE OUT OF LINE. YOU’RE SCARING MY DAUGHTER – LOOK AT HER – YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO SAY THOSE THINGS IN FRONT OF HER AND I’M NOT GOING TO STAND HERE AND LET THIS HAPPEN FOR ONE MORE SECOND. I’M DONE.”
I grabbed the leash from Aries, ripped the door open and said “We’re leaving” as I nodded Aries out the doorway. There, sitting in the lobby, were other unsuspecting victims. I got 10 feet from the asshole veterinarian and heard him bellow “YOU OWE ME FOR AN OFFICE VISIT!!” He was waiving my new file in his hand.
Blown away by his idiocy and ignorance, I turned on my heel and walked right toward him. I never slowed down. I was beyond pissed off. I leaned toward him and pointed in his face.
“You had NO fucking right to have that conversation in front of my daughter. You had NO right to scare her. I was willing to talk to you about your concerns privately but you wouldn’t stop.”
“She deserves to know the truth!”
“SHE WILL KNOW THE TRUTH AS IT’S INTERPRETED BY ME. IT’S MY JOB TO PROTECT HER FROM PEOPLE LIKE YOU!!!”
I stormed out the door. Jaws in the waiting area had officially reached the floor. As he screamed about the cost of the office visit one last time, I told him to bill me and walked out – with a kid in tears and a dog that was so wound up I could hardly get her in the car.
I had to dig deep into the depths of my soul to find the patience to take care of Aries and the dog and put my anger aside. I got home and was talking to Hot Toddy about the whole deal. It’s like I told him, at least Aries has officially seen Street-Auburn Pisces and knows that her Mom isn’t scared to stand up for what’s right and that I will protect her at all cost.
The name of this place is Companion Pet Clinic, 3150 NE 82nd Avenue, Portland, Oregon. Don’t ever use them. Ever.
But wait, the story continues.
Later that night, Aries and I were watching movies. I had come down off my mad and had begun the hateful thought process of what I wish I could have done to that asshole. Until this point, the dog had either slept in Aries room next to her bed or next to mine on the floor.
Aries and I both fell asleep on the couches that night. I awoke at 1 a.m. and got Aries up and told her to just sleep with me and we headed toward my bedroom. The dog came walking out of the room as we entered. I didn’t think much of it.
Aries laid her little head down and says, “Why is it wet right there?”
I ran over and flipped on the light to find that son-of-a-bitch dog had pissed on my bed right in between the two pillows where your head would lay.
Not that big a deal you’re thinking? Guess again. I sleep on a king size Carrington Chase Coral Bay Plush bed. It retails for nearly $4,000.
The dog was cowering in my office which is through a set of sliding glass doors off my bedroom. I threw the door open, pointed at her and yelled, “YOU MOTHERFUCKER…YOU JUST BOUGHT YOURSELF A ONE WAY TICKET OUT OF HERE.”
Then I lost it. The weekend, the dog, the kid, the veterinarian, the cooking, the turkey that seemed to cook forever, no back up to catch me when I needed to fall. I started to cry. I didn’t know what to do. The bed is latex. The stain was bright yellow. It stunk. The mattress was supposed to have been treated but it didn't appear as such.
I put Aries in her bed and she tried her best to comfort me. She never sees me cry that hard and with my guard down like that. She just watched me wide-eyed trying to talk me down. Bless her heart.
Hot Toddy came in from a night at C.C.’s and in his drunken state of mind, grabbed wash cloths and Febreeze and tried to clean the spot. He appeared to have gotten the bulk of it out but needless to say, I would no longer sleep on my $4k bed. In fact, I spent the next five days on the phone with the mattress company working out a replacement.
I ended up paying for the replacement mattress. They sold a new mattress at a used mattress price of $1279. Bastards. I still have the old mattress and until I find that warranty card, it’s not going anywhere. There’s something about throwing out a $2k mattress that doesn’t sit well with me.
The dog slept in the garage from that night on. The next morning when I let her out to pee, she promptly jumped the fence like it wasn’t even there. Rebellious little shit. Twice I went after her to bring her back home. The second time I realized that I wasn’t willing to beg her to come home. I flipped her off and said, “bye bye, see you at later” and walked off.
She ended up coming back eventually. She jumped the fence repeatedly. I called the ex to come and get her, to no avail. I took her to the Southwest Washington Humane Society where Daddy D was supposed to pick her up and take her back to the dog rescue to be adopted out. Hopefully she’s found a great place to roam free with no expensive bed to pee on.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Press 1 for English
Why the hell do I have to press 1 for English? This is America. English is the language spoken here.
People who don’t speak English should have to press a button, not me.
This pisses me off.
And interactive voice commands with an automated attendant…this works if your Hot Toddy and you’re sitting in the park shouting at the automated attendant at the bank.
But if you’re me and you’re trying to make a personal call at work amidst the cube farm, I don’t want to have to announce my choices into the phone.
“NO”
“YES”
“PASSWORD”
“PASSWORD”
“CUSTOMER REPRESENTATIVE”
“AGGRO LESBIAN”
[“I’m sorry but your command was not recognized. Please select one of the following choices…”]
“C.U.S.T.O.M.E.R. R.E.P.R.E.S.E.N.T.A.T.I.V.E.”
Give me a gd option to bark like a dog into the phone or press the appropriate button. Geez. The times I want to press a button I can’t. Bastard companies over-streamline now.
If you’re Old Mother Hubbard, not having to push a button would be a good thing. Or if your just too exhausted to reach up there to press a button. As Kathleen Madigan would say, if that were the case you’d probably be willing pay somebody $20 to dial that number 2. If it were an 8 you’d dial it, but that 2 is all the way at the top which is just exhausting.
People who don’t speak English should have to press a button, not me.
This pisses me off.
And interactive voice commands with an automated attendant…this works if your Hot Toddy and you’re sitting in the park shouting at the automated attendant at the bank.
But if you’re me and you’re trying to make a personal call at work amidst the cube farm, I don’t want to have to announce my choices into the phone.
“NO”
“YES”
“PASSWORD”
“PASSWORD”
“CUSTOMER REPRESENTATIVE”
“AGGRO LESBIAN”
[“I’m sorry but your command was not recognized. Please select one of the following choices…”]
“C.U.S.T.O.M.E.R. R.E.P.R.E.S.E.N.T.A.T.I.V.E.”
Give me a gd option to bark like a dog into the phone or press the appropriate button. Geez. The times I want to press a button I can’t. Bastard companies over-streamline now.
If you’re Old Mother Hubbard, not having to push a button would be a good thing. Or if your just too exhausted to reach up there to press a button. As Kathleen Madigan would say, if that were the case you’d probably be willing pay somebody $20 to dial that number 2. If it were an 8 you’d dial it, but that 2 is all the way at the top which is just exhausting.
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