I was on the dance floor when Trouble approached. Tyler had named her Trouble, I didn't know he had her pegged until she was on me. Her drunken hands slithered their way around me, pulling me into her and I noticed her smoky eye make-up was smudged more than it should be. Her face was earnest and needy . "I know you probably don't like me, but I just love you, you're so cool. I want to dance like you, I want to be you."
Oh fuck
The last thing I wanted was a drunken best friend grinding on me to impress her boyfriend. I pulled away from her gently, and smiled to let her know it wasn't personal. "Sure I like you."
"Show me how you dance like that. Dance with me." She had that teach me line down pat. I could tell it was practiced, used over and over on the guys in her life. Then she straddled my leg and began to arch her back.
I leaned in to be heard over the music, spoke almost directly into her ear. "I like you just fine, I'm just not playing lipstick lesbian with you on the dance floor. I did all that and more ten years ago and it's about as exciting as Friday in the cafeteria. Once you've had fish enough to know you prefer steak you don't play around ordering the Fish anymore." She was already staring at me with a mixture of awe and fear as she dismounted from my leg so I decided I didn't need to add that if I was going to have fish it sure wouldn't be in the form of a fish stick.
"Okay, sorry Dew(ed)" she said.
"No biggie. Besides, I'm taken." I told her. Her eyes traveled down to the rock on my finger. " Oh and there's him too. Actually he wouldn't mind as long as he could watch." I laughed "But that's because he's stupid and hasn't ever done that." She started to ask me more questions but I couldn't hear her now that she wasn't holding on to me like a monkey.
I just smiled again and distanced myself farther from her, dancing a little longer before I made my way back to the crowded table. A smoke or two later I realized I needed to make my way to the ladies room again. I saw her feet when she came in after me, under the stall door. "Deeeeeew(ed)…. Is that you in there?" She asked.
Jeezus christ!
"Yeah. It's me." I said dryly as I exited the stall and began washing my hands.
"I'm so glad you do that! Not everyone washes their hands in here, you know?" She was nervous for some reason.
"Yep."
"Oh god, I'm so drunk. Can I ask you something? Oh shit… I don't want to be the drunk girl in the bathroom asking for advice but you seem, I just know you know things and I want to ask you but I'm drunk. I'll shut up."
I stared at her patiently, making no move toward the door as thirty seconds passed.
"Shit, I'm just going to do it anyway. Okay so… ummm…. Do you think it's possible to be in love with two people at the same time? How can you tell he's The One?"
My shock must have shown, but she interpreted it as shock that she would ask a stranger about her love life. She babbled on quickly filling me in on the bare bones of the story while I marveled at the universe's strange ways. "See, they both love me but I just don't know, I love them both and god I'm a slut. He wants me to choose and I don't know anymore." She looked so young to me, standing there in her going out costume.
"Maybe it's not either of them." I offered. Her eyes were huge. She looked as though that hadn't occurred to her. Then she shook her head a little. "If it's The One you know it." I added "And you shouldn't fuck with it."
She lifted my hand to admire the ring again, turning it this way and that. "You're so lucky you've already found him and now you're living happily ever after." I pulled my hand away quickly and pushed the swinging door open so we could be back in the smoky bar. "It's not always the same thing."
Friday, May 30, 2008
Trouble
I was on the dance floor when Trouble approached. Tyler had named her Trouble, I didn't know he had her pegged until she was on me. Her drunken hands slithered their way around me, pulling me into her and I noticed her smoky eye make-up was smudged more than it should be. Her face was earnest and needy . "I know you probably don't like me, but I just love you, you're so cool. I want to dance like you, I want to be you."
Oh fuck
The last thing I wanted was a drunken best friend grinding on me to impress her boyfriend. I pulled away from her gently, and smiled to let her know it wasn't personal. "Sure I like you."
"Show me how you dance like that. Dance with me." She had that teach me line down pat. I could tell it was practiced, used over and over on the guys in her life. Then she straddled my leg and began to arch her back.
I leaned in to be heard over the music, spoke almost directly into her ear. "I like you just fine, I'm just not playing lipstick lesbian with you on the dance floor. I did all that and more ten years ago and it's about as exciting as Friday in the cafeteria. Once you've had fish enough to know you prefer steak you don't play around ordering the Fish anymore." She was already staring at me with a mixture of awe and fear as she dismounted from my leg so I decided I didn't need to add that if I was going to have fish it sure wouldn't be in the form of a fish stick.
"Okay, sorry Dew(ed)" she said.
"No biggie. Besides, I'm taken." I told her. Her eyes traveled down to the rock on my finger. " Oh and there's him too. Actually he wouldn't mind as long as he could watch." I laughed "But that's because he's stupid and hasn't ever done that." She started to ask me more questions but I couldn't hear her now that she wasn't holding on to me like a monkey.
I just smiled again and distanced myself farther from her, dancing a little longer before I made my way back to the crowded table. A smoke or two later I realized I needed to make my way to the ladies room again. I saw her feet when she came in after me, under the stall door. "Deeeeeew(ed)…. Is that you in there?" She asked.
Jeezus christ!
"Yeah. It's me." I said dryly as I exited the stall and began washing my hands.
"I'm so glad you do that! Not everyone washes their hands in here, you know?" She was nervous for some reason.
"Yep."
"Oh god, I'm so drunk. Can I ask you something? Oh shit… I don't want to be the drunk girl in the bathroom asking for advice but you seem, I just know you know things and I want to ask you but I'm drunk. I'll shut up."
I stared at her patiently, making no move toward the door as thirty seconds passed.
"Shit, I'm just going to do it anyway. Okay so… ummm…. Do you think it's possible to be in love with two people at the same time? How can you tell he's The One?"
My shock must have shown, but she interpreted it as shock that she would ask a stranger about her love life. She babbled on quickly filling me in on the bare bones of the story while I marveled at the universe's strange ways. "See, they both love me but I just don't know, I love them both and god I'm a slut. He wants me to choose and I don't know anymore." She looked so young to me, standing there in her going out costume.
"Maybe it's not either of them." I offered. Her eyes were huge. She looked as though that hadn't occurred to her. Then she shook her head a little. "If it's The One you know it." I added "And you shouldn't fuck with it."
She lifted my hand to admire the ring again, turning it this way and that. "You're so lucky you've already found him and now you're living happily ever after." I pulled my hand away quickly and pushed the swinging door open so we could be back in the smoky bar. "It's not always the same thing."
Oh fuck
The last thing I wanted was a drunken best friend grinding on me to impress her boyfriend. I pulled away from her gently, and smiled to let her know it wasn't personal. "Sure I like you."
"Show me how you dance like that. Dance with me." She had that teach me line down pat. I could tell it was practiced, used over and over on the guys in her life. Then she straddled my leg and began to arch her back.
I leaned in to be heard over the music, spoke almost directly into her ear. "I like you just fine, I'm just not playing lipstick lesbian with you on the dance floor. I did all that and more ten years ago and it's about as exciting as Friday in the cafeteria. Once you've had fish enough to know you prefer steak you don't play around ordering the Fish anymore." She was already staring at me with a mixture of awe and fear as she dismounted from my leg so I decided I didn't need to add that if I was going to have fish it sure wouldn't be in the form of a fish stick.
"Okay, sorry Dew(ed)" she said.
"No biggie. Besides, I'm taken." I told her. Her eyes traveled down to the rock on my finger. " Oh and there's him too. Actually he wouldn't mind as long as he could watch." I laughed "But that's because he's stupid and hasn't ever done that." She started to ask me more questions but I couldn't hear her now that she wasn't holding on to me like a monkey.
I just smiled again and distanced myself farther from her, dancing a little longer before I made my way back to the crowded table. A smoke or two later I realized I needed to make my way to the ladies room again. I saw her feet when she came in after me, under the stall door. "Deeeeeew(ed)…. Is that you in there?" She asked.
Jeezus christ!
"Yeah. It's me." I said dryly as I exited the stall and began washing my hands.
"I'm so glad you do that! Not everyone washes their hands in here, you know?" She was nervous for some reason.
"Yep."
"Oh god, I'm so drunk. Can I ask you something? Oh shit… I don't want to be the drunk girl in the bathroom asking for advice but you seem, I just know you know things and I want to ask you but I'm drunk. I'll shut up."
I stared at her patiently, making no move toward the door as thirty seconds passed.
"Shit, I'm just going to do it anyway. Okay so… ummm…. Do you think it's possible to be in love with two people at the same time? How can you tell he's The One?"
My shock must have shown, but she interpreted it as shock that she would ask a stranger about her love life. She babbled on quickly filling me in on the bare bones of the story while I marveled at the universe's strange ways. "See, they both love me but I just don't know, I love them both and god I'm a slut. He wants me to choose and I don't know anymore." She looked so young to me, standing there in her going out costume.
"Maybe it's not either of them." I offered. Her eyes were huge. She looked as though that hadn't occurred to her. Then she shook her head a little. "If it's The One you know it." I added "And you shouldn't fuck with it."
She lifted my hand to admire the ring again, turning it this way and that. "You're so lucky you've already found him and now you're living happily ever after." I pulled my hand away quickly and pushed the swinging door open so we could be back in the smoky bar. "It's not always the same thing."
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The Stink of Out-of-Towner
We walked all the way through town to get to the bar on the corner of Main and Washington. My little brother wasn't all that happy about it, either. "Why couldn't we drive?" He asked exasperatedly.
"'Cause I intend to drink, that's why. If I wanted to stay designated we would drive to Boise. The best thing this shit hole has going for it is its proximity to the motel." This was the first time my brother and I had ever been out together. "Listen up, little brother. I know how to have a good time so just relax and enjoy the ride."
He guffawed at me in disbelief. "How often do you go out?" He asked
"Not often." I admitted.
"I'm out all the time." He smirked down at me from his new height.
"That's 'cause you're not doing it right." We had arrived in front of the bar, re-named Cherries since the last time I had been there. I held the door open for him and swung my arm in a flourish inside the dimly lit bar. "Let's do this."
I ordered our drinks and chose a table in the center of the bar, against the outer wall. He yammered on about the label on his beer not being the correct color and since I was surveying the scene around us it took me too long to grasp that he was talking about a heat sensing label. "Isn't your hand wrapped around it most of the time? How can that be accurate?" I asked him idly. He went on bullshitting about it and I went back to gauging the room for fun potential.
Toward the back of the bar, near the restrooms there was a loud group of ladies, looked like a mom's night out crowd. Along the bar were the usual characters, the two girls in short skirts with the one girl in shants. All of them were wearing exposed thongs, it was like a thong line up over there. There were two or three "cowboys", the kinda guys who rode a bull once when they were fifteen and are planning on getting laid off of it for the rest of their lives. A couple was playing pool between make-out sessions and Tyler remarked that the girl was "trouble".
"Can you believe the glares n' stares we're getting?" I asked Tyler
"I know!" he said "I think it's you, you stink of out of towner."
"OOOH! Look at that, there's three guys lined up on the dance floor, do you think they're going to line dance?" I asked excitedly.
"It's possible" he responded dryly. Sadly they shuffled back to their stools in their pointy toed boots and one of the three thongs got up to sing instead. While the dj tried to find her selection I played the guess what song they're going to sing game with Tyler.
"Hmmm….. She's going to sing that one about the cheater, the country one." I guessed
"Nahh, she'll do that one every gal does, you know it what is it?"
"I love rock n' roll?" I asked
"Yeah, that one." He said. I sighed. I was hoping there would be more country flavor in here. I mean shit, I hear that song every time I go out. He was right, the song thumped into the room and all the other thongs rushed up to sing it with her.
Tyler and I went back to sizing people up around us. He was telling me who's ass was doing the best job flossing. "You know, I'm going to have to make it obvious we're not together if you're hoping to meet a girl." I pointed out.
"What are you talking about?" He said
"Everyone in here thinks we're a couple." I said "Not just a couple, a couple that's been together a real long time."
"They do not."
"Oh they do. Think about it. I'm buying your drinks, we came in together, we're sitting together laughing and comfortable but not making out. We might as well wear a sign that says 'we've been married so long we look like each other.'" I laughed at his distaste. "And it doesn't matter what you say to them, they'll think you're sneaking around on me." I sipped my drink. "Actually that could work out well for you if you're not serious about them."
"Have you noticed how attentive the bartender has been?" Tyler asked me, referring to her quickness to empty the ashtray and wipe our table.
"Yeah, you think she's cute?"
"I like her. She looks like she could throw down."
"Well just so's ya know, she's attentive because I'm an exorbitant tipper. But that doesn't mean she doesn't like you too." I hopped off my stool to head to the bathroom. "Hey listen if I don't come back in ten minutes you better come get me, this entire room of bitches has been glaring at me awhile and I might have to use you and yer blue eyes as a distraction while I tie them all up with their thongs."
When I arrived back at the table I noticed the dj had given up trying to get people up to sing and was playing hip hop. "Tyler! Look! It's time!"
"Time for what?"
"Uhh…. Dancing. Duh."
"I don't dance."
"Pishaw, save that shit for girls who believe it. I'm your sister." He gave me the look. The please don't make me embarrass myself look. "Fine. I'm more of a solo act anyway." I strolled over the patch of linoleum designating the dance area and started dancing next to two of the thongs.
"'Cause I intend to drink, that's why. If I wanted to stay designated we would drive to Boise. The best thing this shit hole has going for it is its proximity to the motel." This was the first time my brother and I had ever been out together. "Listen up, little brother. I know how to have a good time so just relax and enjoy the ride."
He guffawed at me in disbelief. "How often do you go out?" He asked
"Not often." I admitted.
"I'm out all the time." He smirked down at me from his new height.
"That's 'cause you're not doing it right." We had arrived in front of the bar, re-named Cherries since the last time I had been there. I held the door open for him and swung my arm in a flourish inside the dimly lit bar. "Let's do this."
I ordered our drinks and chose a table in the center of the bar, against the outer wall. He yammered on about the label on his beer not being the correct color and since I was surveying the scene around us it took me too long to grasp that he was talking about a heat sensing label. "Isn't your hand wrapped around it most of the time? How can that be accurate?" I asked him idly. He went on bullshitting about it and I went back to gauging the room for fun potential.
Toward the back of the bar, near the restrooms there was a loud group of ladies, looked like a mom's night out crowd. Along the bar were the usual characters, the two girls in short skirts with the one girl in shants. All of them were wearing exposed thongs, it was like a thong line up over there. There were two or three "cowboys", the kinda guys who rode a bull once when they were fifteen and are planning on getting laid off of it for the rest of their lives. A couple was playing pool between make-out sessions and Tyler remarked that the girl was "trouble".
"Can you believe the glares n' stares we're getting?" I asked Tyler
"I know!" he said "I think it's you, you stink of out of towner."
"OOOH! Look at that, there's three guys lined up on the dance floor, do you think they're going to line dance?" I asked excitedly.
"It's possible" he responded dryly. Sadly they shuffled back to their stools in their pointy toed boots and one of the three thongs got up to sing instead. While the dj tried to find her selection I played the guess what song they're going to sing game with Tyler.
"Hmmm….. She's going to sing that one about the cheater, the country one." I guessed
"Nahh, she'll do that one every gal does, you know it what is it?"
"I love rock n' roll?" I asked
"Yeah, that one." He said. I sighed. I was hoping there would be more country flavor in here. I mean shit, I hear that song every time I go out. He was right, the song thumped into the room and all the other thongs rushed up to sing it with her.
Tyler and I went back to sizing people up around us. He was telling me who's ass was doing the best job flossing. "You know, I'm going to have to make it obvious we're not together if you're hoping to meet a girl." I pointed out.
"What are you talking about?" He said
"Everyone in here thinks we're a couple." I said "Not just a couple, a couple that's been together a real long time."
"They do not."
"Oh they do. Think about it. I'm buying your drinks, we came in together, we're sitting together laughing and comfortable but not making out. We might as well wear a sign that says 'we've been married so long we look like each other.'" I laughed at his distaste. "And it doesn't matter what you say to them, they'll think you're sneaking around on me." I sipped my drink. "Actually that could work out well for you if you're not serious about them."
"Have you noticed how attentive the bartender has been?" Tyler asked me, referring to her quickness to empty the ashtray and wipe our table.
"Yeah, you think she's cute?"
"I like her. She looks like she could throw down."
"Well just so's ya know, she's attentive because I'm an exorbitant tipper. But that doesn't mean she doesn't like you too." I hopped off my stool to head to the bathroom. "Hey listen if I don't come back in ten minutes you better come get me, this entire room of bitches has been glaring at me awhile and I might have to use you and yer blue eyes as a distraction while I tie them all up with their thongs."
When I arrived back at the table I noticed the dj had given up trying to get people up to sing and was playing hip hop. "Tyler! Look! It's time!"
"Time for what?"
"Uhh…. Dancing. Duh."
"I don't dance."
"Pishaw, save that shit for girls who believe it. I'm your sister." He gave me the look. The please don't make me embarrass myself look. "Fine. I'm more of a solo act anyway." I strolled over the patch of linoleum designating the dance area and started dancing next to two of the thongs.
A Fool For Dancing
The Thongs were not that pleased about it, either. Prior to this, their drunken swerving and bizarre squatting had been the biggest show in the dive. I was about to raise the bar. So to speak. Not in quality, mind you, in fun. Tyler was watching me with an amused expression on his face from our table. I knew he had no idea of the magic that was about to happen. Well, the magic that would happen as soon as the dj started playing something good. I wasn't going to wait around on that and headed to his "booth".
"Hey there Mr. Tats." I greeted him by acknowledging his sleeves. Anyone who goes to that much trouble to look different wants it noticed. "Are you getting ready to play some old school hip hop for me?"
"I'm not even a dj." He admitted sheepishly., ducking his shaved smooth head.
"You're telling me!" I teased him. "I'm not even a dancer, so if you fake it and I fake it we'll both be impressed. Problem is, the moves I have are old so you gotta play old stuff so I feel retro and funky." He gestured for me to join him behind the counter, staring at the computer screen. I scrolled through the crap listed and pointed out what I wanted. It wasn't easy, most of it was country but I managed to find a few songs that would make a nice start. "That's a good set, then you play some shit so that everyone goes and orders another drink."
"Everybody?" he asked
"Well, in this case me and The Thongs but I bet in a song or two at least all the ladies will be dancing."
"What are The Thongs?"
"You're going to pretend you haven't noticed the three Ts lined up just above the stools at the bar?" I asked him, enjoying his grin when he realized what I was talking about.
"Nothing wrong with that." He said and I pretended not to notice that his ears were turning red.
"I didn't say there was, did I?" I asked as I backed out from behind the counter onto the now empty linoleum and waited with exaggerated patience for him to click play. Soon enough the song started thumping and I tried to get in the mood and pretend everyone there wasn't staring at me. I bounced along a little, threw in some running man. A little jumping jack here, the hokey-pokey there. And always, always plenty of hips. Soon enough I was grinning at Tyler back at our table as the dance area filled up around me with smiling Thongs and protesting cowboys. Suddenly we were all old friends.
One of The Thongs asked me "Show me how to do the c-step."
"What's a see step?" I asked her.
"That thing you do, it's a perfect c-step."
"Oh. I don't know what a c step is. I just watch other people and copy them. Not here," I admitted when she glanced around skeptically "I'm from Portland."
"Well what about that thing when you swing back to the floor like that? I think I will fall down if I try."
"If you do fall down just spin around and people will think you're break dancing" I advised.
She looked mildly peeved that I wouldn't be giving her a dance lesson but still pouted when I said I was ready for a break.
Sauntering over to Tyler and my drink I asked "Having fun yet?"
"How did you get everyone out there so fast?" he asked amazed.
"They all want to dance, they just don't want to look foolish, since I already had that covered they went ahead and got up there."
"You make it look fun." He observed
"Nah, it is fun. Come on, you wanna get out there and rub up on some Thongs?"
"Not yet," He nodded toward his beer "Not all of us are drinking the hard stuff."
"I only drink with purpose." I laughed "I've never been one to fuck around doing things half way you know."
"You going to get drunk?" He asked
"No. I'm buzzing enough now, I'll maintain that a little longer and then switch to Shirleys. Looks like the pool table opened up." I observed that Trouble and her boyfriend were no where to be seen.
"Yeah, they went outside awhile ago. Do you want to play pool?"
"Not really, but I will if you really wanna and you let me cheat."
"Nah, I'll get that guy to play."
"Suit yerself." I grinned. "I'm moving closer to the dance floor, care to join me?" We carried our shit to another, larger table between the pool table and the dance floor. Within an hour it was full. Most of the bar was congregating around us.
"Hey there Mr. Tats." I greeted him by acknowledging his sleeves. Anyone who goes to that much trouble to look different wants it noticed. "Are you getting ready to play some old school hip hop for me?"
"I'm not even a dj." He admitted sheepishly., ducking his shaved smooth head.
"You're telling me!" I teased him. "I'm not even a dancer, so if you fake it and I fake it we'll both be impressed. Problem is, the moves I have are old so you gotta play old stuff so I feel retro and funky." He gestured for me to join him behind the counter, staring at the computer screen. I scrolled through the crap listed and pointed out what I wanted. It wasn't easy, most of it was country but I managed to find a few songs that would make a nice start. "That's a good set, then you play some shit so that everyone goes and orders another drink."
"Everybody?" he asked
"Well, in this case me and The Thongs but I bet in a song or two at least all the ladies will be dancing."
"What are The Thongs?"
"You're going to pretend you haven't noticed the three Ts lined up just above the stools at the bar?" I asked him, enjoying his grin when he realized what I was talking about.
"Nothing wrong with that." He said and I pretended not to notice that his ears were turning red.
"I didn't say there was, did I?" I asked as I backed out from behind the counter onto the now empty linoleum and waited with exaggerated patience for him to click play. Soon enough the song started thumping and I tried to get in the mood and pretend everyone there wasn't staring at me. I bounced along a little, threw in some running man. A little jumping jack here, the hokey-pokey there. And always, always plenty of hips. Soon enough I was grinning at Tyler back at our table as the dance area filled up around me with smiling Thongs and protesting cowboys. Suddenly we were all old friends.
One of The Thongs asked me "Show me how to do the c-step."
"What's a see step?" I asked her.
"That thing you do, it's a perfect c-step."
"Oh. I don't know what a c step is. I just watch other people and copy them. Not here," I admitted when she glanced around skeptically "I'm from Portland."
"Well what about that thing when you swing back to the floor like that? I think I will fall down if I try."
"If you do fall down just spin around and people will think you're break dancing" I advised.
She looked mildly peeved that I wouldn't be giving her a dance lesson but still pouted when I said I was ready for a break.
Sauntering over to Tyler and my drink I asked "Having fun yet?"
"How did you get everyone out there so fast?" he asked amazed.
"They all want to dance, they just don't want to look foolish, since I already had that covered they went ahead and got up there."
"You make it look fun." He observed
"Nah, it is fun. Come on, you wanna get out there and rub up on some Thongs?"
"Not yet," He nodded toward his beer "Not all of us are drinking the hard stuff."
"I only drink with purpose." I laughed "I've never been one to fuck around doing things half way you know."
"You going to get drunk?" He asked
"No. I'm buzzing enough now, I'll maintain that a little longer and then switch to Shirleys. Looks like the pool table opened up." I observed that Trouble and her boyfriend were no where to be seen.
"Yeah, they went outside awhile ago. Do you want to play pool?"
"Not really, but I will if you really wanna and you let me cheat."
"Nah, I'll get that guy to play."
"Suit yerself." I grinned. "I'm moving closer to the dance floor, care to join me?" We carried our shit to another, larger table between the pool table and the dance floor. Within an hour it was full. Most of the bar was congregating around us.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Things I Discovered on the Road
Can you believe automotive has it's own category but there's still no family category? Or kids?? Or all the other shit we cram under "Life"? Hmph!
I went on a road trip with BigD and the three kids, !!!. My thoughts remain scattered so here's some more random.
Things I Discovered On The Road:
* Everything is better between eighty and ninety miles per hour. Eating chips is better. Drinking dew is better. Music is better. I'm positive smoking is fantastic too but didn't do it. Even when everyone else in the car was sleeping and I totally could have gotten away with it AND deserved it considering we only stopped twice in 400 miles of driving and my entire body was aching by the time we crossed into Idaho and I discovered the rest stop just across the Snake River is STILL closed. (I really should figure out how to use the cruise control in my vehicle) Also I think 100 is even better but didn't push my luck that far very often. See the problem with speeding is you get used to it and then you can't go back. I'm sure there's a life lesson in there somewhere.
*When your kid is trying to calculate how long it will be until you get to the destination and asks how fast you're going and you say 80 and then they see the posted speed limit is 65 it's okay to say that's a guideline. I mean, why not tell them the truth? The only people driving 65 are the truckers and their speed limit is 55. RIGHT? *sigh* I'm going to spend a lot on driver's ed for her, huh?
* When you're trapped behind an asshole in the left lane who insists on driving the posted limit but still thinks they're going to pass the fifty trucks lined up in the right hand lane the best thing to do is wedge yourself with a smile and a nod between two semi's. Then, that jerk-off that's had the entire front axel of his tiny car shoved under your rear for thirty miles can go ahead and nose the asshole out of the way for you. Then just pull out behind them and wait ten miles for them to get tired of eighty and pass their stupid asses up. Smirking is optional.
* BigD is tons of fun on the way TO the destination but pretty much sleeps all the way home. My favorite BigD moment of the journey was when Gawd dumped a Lake Mead size bucket of water on my windshield while I was trying to pass a semi in vapor cloud conditions leaving me completely blind for maybe a minute and a half. She actually fucking whimpered. WHIMPERED!!! Oh bajeazus it was funny. I laughed hard. You know, right after I asked her to pass the wipes since I had shit my pants. Don't worry, I had done the exact right thing to do when you're driving and find that you're suddenly completely blind, I just kept driving fast. If anything I sped the fuck up.
* When you suddenly break out of a hundred mile silence by singing along with "Unchained Melody" loudly and badly it's a pleasant surprise to hear the entire rear of the vehicle wildly applaud your efforts when you're done. It reminds you that you're not alone with the road and your melancholy thoughts in the middle of the desert.
* We had been on the road about an hour when Isabelle asked if we were almost there yet. Bwahahahah! Then she asked what exit number we would be taking. I went ahead and told her exit nine knowing that the numbers start over in the next state and the ones we were looking at were in the triple digits, going down. Ahahahaha! Blew her mind, it did! We also didn't tell the girls that the rear windows are tinted therefore giving all the truckers the honk please arm pump was futile. But the funniest thing we did to the girls happened on the way home and deserves it's own asterisk.
*We were in the Columbia Gorge, about an hour from home, the traffic going east runs alongside the traffic going west so the girls had started to chant as cars and trucks went by. They would say car if it was a car and truck if it was a truck. (HEY we can't just run the dvd player the entire freakin' time people, I need my tunes) so it got old and they were making up different things to say if it was a car, truck, or motorcycle so I told them to say SSSHHH if it was a car and IT if it was a truck. Ahahahahahah! Good times. Even little Thatch was doing it. BigD said "For shame", but she enjoyed it too.
Stay tuned, I'm working on "Things I Discovered About Bars In Small Towns" for tomorrow. That's right, sometimes Dew(ed) hits the sauce in shitty dives.
I went on a road trip with BigD and the three kids, !!!. My thoughts remain scattered so here's some more random.
Things I Discovered On The Road:
* Everything is better between eighty and ninety miles per hour. Eating chips is better. Drinking dew is better. Music is better. I'm positive smoking is fantastic too but didn't do it. Even when everyone else in the car was sleeping and I totally could have gotten away with it AND deserved it considering we only stopped twice in 400 miles of driving and my entire body was aching by the time we crossed into Idaho and I discovered the rest stop just across the Snake River is STILL closed. (I really should figure out how to use the cruise control in my vehicle) Also I think 100 is even better but didn't push my luck that far very often. See the problem with speeding is you get used to it and then you can't go back. I'm sure there's a life lesson in there somewhere.
*When your kid is trying to calculate how long it will be until you get to the destination and asks how fast you're going and you say 80 and then they see the posted speed limit is 65 it's okay to say that's a guideline. I mean, why not tell them the truth? The only people driving 65 are the truckers and their speed limit is 55. RIGHT? *sigh* I'm going to spend a lot on driver's ed for her, huh?
* When you're trapped behind an asshole in the left lane who insists on driving the posted limit but still thinks they're going to pass the fifty trucks lined up in the right hand lane the best thing to do is wedge yourself with a smile and a nod between two semi's. Then, that jerk-off that's had the entire front axel of his tiny car shoved under your rear for thirty miles can go ahead and nose the asshole out of the way for you. Then just pull out behind them and wait ten miles for them to get tired of eighty and pass their stupid asses up. Smirking is optional.
* BigD is tons of fun on the way TO the destination but pretty much sleeps all the way home. My favorite BigD moment of the journey was when Gawd dumped a Lake Mead size bucket of water on my windshield while I was trying to pass a semi in vapor cloud conditions leaving me completely blind for maybe a minute and a half. She actually fucking whimpered. WHIMPERED!!! Oh bajeazus it was funny. I laughed hard. You know, right after I asked her to pass the wipes since I had shit my pants. Don't worry, I had done the exact right thing to do when you're driving and find that you're suddenly completely blind, I just kept driving fast. If anything I sped the fuck up.
* When you suddenly break out of a hundred mile silence by singing along with "Unchained Melody" loudly and badly it's a pleasant surprise to hear the entire rear of the vehicle wildly applaud your efforts when you're done. It reminds you that you're not alone with the road and your melancholy thoughts in the middle of the desert.
* We had been on the road about an hour when Isabelle asked if we were almost there yet. Bwahahahah! Then she asked what exit number we would be taking. I went ahead and told her exit nine knowing that the numbers start over in the next state and the ones we were looking at were in the triple digits, going down. Ahahahaha! Blew her mind, it did! We also didn't tell the girls that the rear windows are tinted therefore giving all the truckers the honk please arm pump was futile. But the funniest thing we did to the girls happened on the way home and deserves it's own asterisk.
*We were in the Columbia Gorge, about an hour from home, the traffic going east runs alongside the traffic going west so the girls had started to chant as cars and trucks went by. They would say car if it was a car and truck if it was a truck. (HEY we can't just run the dvd player the entire freakin' time people, I need my tunes) so it got old and they were making up different things to say if it was a car, truck, or motorcycle so I told them to say SSSHHH if it was a car and IT if it was a truck. Ahahahahahah! Good times. Even little Thatch was doing it. BigD said "For shame", but she enjoyed it too.
Stay tuned, I'm working on "Things I Discovered About Bars In Small Towns" for tomorrow. That's right, sometimes Dew(ed) hits the sauce in shitty dives.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Dew Stew
To be trapped, tied down no matter how pleasant the fellow occupants, how sparkly the bars, makes me squirm and itch to know what I'm missing.
I'm missing you.
Have you heard that scientists are isolating a "believer" gene? Something some of us have and some of don't. The ability to believe. This makes absolute sense to me because I don't believe.
I want to. But I refuse. It's too painful.
Except that sometimes I sense this tiny little piece of me, sheltered deep within my walls, the very reason for the walls that does believe, that's just waiting to be gratified with something anything just once being the way it should be.
And what of self-fulfilled prophecy? What if the dreamer holds the dream rather than risk a reality that could destroy the dream?
Does worrying that it will be destroyed mean you don't really believe?
And once the dreamer gives up the dream to reality, what then? He surely must have another dream or lose that self. You can't have your dream without giving it up for another.
We love to be right. No matter what is lost.
**********************************************************************
It's so easy to please him that it's almost cruel not to. So I do. There is something to be found in his arms, it's safe and I can see I'm doing it for him. Drawing him out, creating flames from nothing more than warmth. When he's done he grins like a child and breaths "That's how it should be." I kiss him on his forehead, it had been a better than usual show. "You have no idea, baby. No idea."
************************************************************************
When Tim goes grocery shopping he thinks we're Mormon. Granted, my sister and her daughter are here often enough to go ahead and print her a t-shirt with "2nd wife", but far as I know the end of the world isn't anytime soon. Not soon enough to have food pouring from the cupboards onto the countertops. It comes from not having enough when he was a kid and it comes from the hope that he won't have to go back to the dreaded Winco for a couple years. That and the five packages of razors could be a hint. It's been hot the last few days so I've been smooth and I guess he would like to see that trend continue. *shrug* We'll see.
BigD has been out of town so my niece has been staying with us. She packed a lot. Plenty of clothes, her favorite blankets, her pillow, her baseball bag, the Plague. Of course, this saves us a lot of groceries. She won't eat, she's just lying around in her underwear puking all over the house watching movies. Thatcher loved her up a lot the first couple of days she was here, so he's been squirting shit all over again. Seriously, I don't know how we thought that thing a few weeks ago was the 'rhea. THIS my friends, is rhea. No rash so far so that's awesome. Diapers sure are amazing these days. You can poor a can of soup in there and it holds.
I'm missing you.
Have you heard that scientists are isolating a "believer" gene? Something some of us have and some of don't. The ability to believe. This makes absolute sense to me because I don't believe.
I want to. But I refuse. It's too painful.
Except that sometimes I sense this tiny little piece of me, sheltered deep within my walls, the very reason for the walls that does believe, that's just waiting to be gratified with something anything just once being the way it should be.
And what of self-fulfilled prophecy? What if the dreamer holds the dream rather than risk a reality that could destroy the dream?
Does worrying that it will be destroyed mean you don't really believe?
And once the dreamer gives up the dream to reality, what then? He surely must have another dream or lose that self. You can't have your dream without giving it up for another.
We love to be right. No matter what is lost.
**********************************************************************
It's so easy to please him that it's almost cruel not to. So I do. There is something to be found in his arms, it's safe and I can see I'm doing it for him. Drawing him out, creating flames from nothing more than warmth. When he's done he grins like a child and breaths "That's how it should be." I kiss him on his forehead, it had been a better than usual show. "You have no idea, baby. No idea."
************************************************************************
When Tim goes grocery shopping he thinks we're Mormon. Granted, my sister and her daughter are here often enough to go ahead and print her a t-shirt with "2nd wife", but far as I know the end of the world isn't anytime soon. Not soon enough to have food pouring from the cupboards onto the countertops. It comes from not having enough when he was a kid and it comes from the hope that he won't have to go back to the dreaded Winco for a couple years. That and the five packages of razors could be a hint. It's been hot the last few days so I've been smooth and I guess he would like to see that trend continue. *shrug* We'll see.
BigD has been out of town so my niece has been staying with us. She packed a lot. Plenty of clothes, her favorite blankets, her pillow, her baseball bag, the Plague. Of course, this saves us a lot of groceries. She won't eat, she's just lying around in her underwear puking all over the house watching movies. Thatcher loved her up a lot the first couple of days she was here, so he's been squirting shit all over again. Seriously, I don't know how we thought that thing a few weeks ago was the 'rhea. THIS my friends, is rhea. No rash so far so that's awesome. Diapers sure are amazing these days. You can poor a can of soup in there and it holds.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Don't You Like My Cock?
It was during that "now what?" period of my life. That one crazy year when I figured I didn't give a fuck anymore, that all had been lost so I might as well try and lose myself. Crazy as an uptight, old fashioned girl can be anyway. I was working at Wal-Mart so that right there illustrates the darkness of the era.
He worked there too. I had noticed him. In a sea of middle-aged, over-weight co-workers he stood out. He must have been twenty something? or so. Tall, slender, I'm hesitant to go as far as good looking, but we'll go ahead and cast him as attractive enough. He spent a lot of time finding reasons to pass my work area. I would be slicing boxes open and stocking shelves and turn around to see him standing, watching me while leaning on the handle of his pallet jack with a stupid grin on his face.
His name tag read Michael. I only remember his name because he made a point of informing me he went by Mike D. (Yeah, I know lol) I also remember his last name. Only because he made a point of informing everyone and anyone about the size of his cock. He called it The McGregor Cock. Any disinterest or doubt given after this announcement would only be met with "What, you want to see it?" and a hand to the groin to emphasize his seriousness.
I did sorta wanna see it. It seemed to me that at nineteen I had not seen nearly enough dick having only been in one serious relationship. Before that guy I had fully intended to wait for the real deal, you know "true love" and that was going to be forever. I know, I know I was an incredibly naïve and stupid teenager. LoL So since I figured that boat had sailed I was going to go ahead and go the other way. Nothing could make me tell him that, though. He was cocky enough.
Eventually he invited me and my friend to go walk around in the woods and drink after work one night. This is the sort of plan nineteen year old girls playing around with the idea that their lives are over love. So there we were, out in the woods. Of course my friend disappeared into the trees with his friend leaving us with awkward conversation. He really didn't have anything to talk about other than his penis. *yawn* Actually when I remember him I conjure him up as a giant penis with a ball cap.
It's all a little fuzzy from here. I didn't drink or anything but I think when you're mostly disconnected from yourself you don't retain much detail in memory. We ended up at his place, or I should say his parent's place. I got into bed with him, fully intending to get the full McGregor experience but unfortunately for him I discovered I couldn't do it. I tried, really I did. But I was not turned on at all. AT ALL. It was like participating in a clinical trial, "Try bigger cock today, no insurance necessary". His cock was bigger than average. That was his downfall actually. There was just no way it was going in. Not with all that foreplay, you know the part where we took our clothes off. *sigh* I just hadn't figured out how to fake it yet. Not with zero input from the other person.
"Don't you like my cock" he finally asked. This line became an on-going joke between my friend and I. We used it liberally for the next six months or so, trying to recapture the little boy pleading tone.
"Sure. I mean it's a nice enough …. Err ahem….. Cock." I was entirely uncomfortable talking about his cock and more than ready to just get home. "You know, I think I'm just tired."
So he drove me home. We fooled around a few more times after that with only slightly more success. It would have been entirely too much work to teach the boy to kiss and everything else just for the size of his dick. There's lotsa dick out there and some of them are attached to men with some skill or at least chemistry. I have no clue why he didn't go away. We've gone over that mystery before so let's skip it this time. Eventually we had some penetration but it just never did it for me. Then he ended up in jail. Apparently he had been awaiting sentencing on an automatic weapon charge. *laugh* He wanted to play penitentiary pen pal but I turned him down. I imagine he figured out to stop mentioning his cock in conversation while in there.
He worked there too. I had noticed him. In a sea of middle-aged, over-weight co-workers he stood out. He must have been twenty something? or so. Tall, slender, I'm hesitant to go as far as good looking, but we'll go ahead and cast him as attractive enough. He spent a lot of time finding reasons to pass my work area. I would be slicing boxes open and stocking shelves and turn around to see him standing, watching me while leaning on the handle of his pallet jack with a stupid grin on his face.
His name tag read Michael. I only remember his name because he made a point of informing me he went by Mike D. (Yeah, I know lol) I also remember his last name. Only because he made a point of informing everyone and anyone about the size of his cock. He called it The McGregor Cock. Any disinterest or doubt given after this announcement would only be met with "What, you want to see it?" and a hand to the groin to emphasize his seriousness.
I did sorta wanna see it. It seemed to me that at nineteen I had not seen nearly enough dick having only been in one serious relationship. Before that guy I had fully intended to wait for the real deal, you know "true love" and that was going to be forever. I know, I know I was an incredibly naïve and stupid teenager. LoL So since I figured that boat had sailed I was going to go ahead and go the other way. Nothing could make me tell him that, though. He was cocky enough.
Eventually he invited me and my friend to go walk around in the woods and drink after work one night. This is the sort of plan nineteen year old girls playing around with the idea that their lives are over love. So there we were, out in the woods. Of course my friend disappeared into the trees with his friend leaving us with awkward conversation. He really didn't have anything to talk about other than his penis. *yawn* Actually when I remember him I conjure him up as a giant penis with a ball cap.
It's all a little fuzzy from here. I didn't drink or anything but I think when you're mostly disconnected from yourself you don't retain much detail in memory. We ended up at his place, or I should say his parent's place. I got into bed with him, fully intending to get the full McGregor experience but unfortunately for him I discovered I couldn't do it. I tried, really I did. But I was not turned on at all. AT ALL. It was like participating in a clinical trial, "Try bigger cock today, no insurance necessary". His cock was bigger than average. That was his downfall actually. There was just no way it was going in. Not with all that foreplay, you know the part where we took our clothes off. *sigh* I just hadn't figured out how to fake it yet. Not with zero input from the other person.
"Don't you like my cock" he finally asked. This line became an on-going joke between my friend and I. We used it liberally for the next six months or so, trying to recapture the little boy pleading tone.
"Sure. I mean it's a nice enough …. Err ahem….. Cock." I was entirely uncomfortable talking about his cock and more than ready to just get home. "You know, I think I'm just tired."
So he drove me home. We fooled around a few more times after that with only slightly more success. It would have been entirely too much work to teach the boy to kiss and everything else just for the size of his dick. There's lotsa dick out there and some of them are attached to men with some skill or at least chemistry. I have no clue why he didn't go away. We've gone over that mystery before so let's skip it this time. Eventually we had some penetration but it just never did it for me. Then he ended up in jail. Apparently he had been awaiting sentencing on an automatic weapon charge. *laugh* He wanted to play penitentiary pen pal but I turned him down. I imagine he figured out to stop mentioning his cock in conversation while in there.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Just Some Dew(ed)
*Turns out I'm that Mom. Some mean kid from the freakishly good team of little soldier baseball players with the asshole coaches was blocking the baseline when Isabelle was on first. They did it every time to all our players forcing them to run in big circles around them, it was intentional. So I shout over to Isabelle "Just run him over!" she glances back at the dude that's like three times her size and looks back at me like Mom you're crazy and I add "Use yer elbows they're sharp." Bwahahahaaa! That'll teach him. So that kids mom heard me and tells him to move off the baseline. She might have glared at me. I didn't look to see.
*Last Friday was the final Parent Ass. Meeting of the year. YAY! So the good news is, as soon as I type up the minutes and send them out, my duties as Secretary are pretty much over. Double YAY! The bad news is they elected me President for next year. Bo0O0oo! I have serious issues saying no. I just couldn't come up with a decent reason. They were chanting a little bit and the chorus of "but you would be so good at it" was over whelming. Pishaw. I could be good at anything. Doesn't mean I wanna do it! Jeezus. Clearly these people have no idea who I am. Well, they know about the sucker part.
*I hate Tim's new job. He loves it. He says he hates it but he loves that too. He's no longer hourly. That means they don't pay for his time. That means he works 24/7. That means I miss field trips and shit. See, me I can take money or leave it. Tim wants to be a millionaire. *sigh* It's his passion. Work. What a weirdo. But, that's him so I support it. Not without complaint, but I do support his dreams. Even if his dream is to work. Eh. The thing that really bothers me is that he likes to pretend he's doing it for us.
*People are full of shit. That's well known I suppose but continues to astound me. Like Tim, wanting to work all the time but also wanting to pretend it's for us. Reminds me, a few years ago he would joke a lot about never getting laid. In front of people. Not because he actually never got laid but because all the guys like to joke about not getting laid. So finally I called him on it. He didn't even know he was doing it. Or other moms/wives/women always going on and on about their husbands/baby daddy's not doing their fair share in the house. They love it!! LOVE it. They love to complain about it, they love the martyrdom. Such a fuckin' bore.
*I hate hearing women say "I'll see if my husband can baby-sit" WTF? You can't baby sit your own freakin' kids. It's not the guys perpetuating this stereotype either, it's the women. The truth is, you think your husband can't do it, you treat him like he can't do it and guess what, that means he can't do it. Get over yourself and let them be a real parent to their kids. Do it for your kids, for him and for you. And most of all do it for me cause I'm tired of hearing yer shit.
*I haven't been doing the yard like I usually do. Just been doing the bare minimum. No planting, no seeding, no weeding, no coffee grounds. It looks like shit. AND for some strange reason the only perennials that have survived are all purple. It's like some purple freak lives here. Some weedy purple lover. Not that I don't like purple. I do. Just funny that it's all that's left. I better get on it. August wouldn't be the same without giant sun flowers towering over us.
*Thatcher is using sentence fragments. It's adorable. His favorite is "Made a mess". He gets a lot of use out of it. All day long. I should try and catch it on video for you guys. So cute. Almost worth the mess.
*I'm working on a couple a crap projects. (crap is Tim's little pet name for my scrappin' and craftin' shenanigans) I'll try and remember to post some pics when I finish 'em before I give them away.
*Last Friday was the final Parent Ass. Meeting of the year. YAY! So the good news is, as soon as I type up the minutes and send them out, my duties as Secretary are pretty much over. Double YAY! The bad news is they elected me President for next year. Bo0O0oo! I have serious issues saying no. I just couldn't come up with a decent reason. They were chanting a little bit and the chorus of "but you would be so good at it" was over whelming. Pishaw. I could be good at anything. Doesn't mean I wanna do it! Jeezus. Clearly these people have no idea who I am. Well, they know about the sucker part.
*I hate Tim's new job. He loves it. He says he hates it but he loves that too. He's no longer hourly. That means they don't pay for his time. That means he works 24/7. That means I miss field trips and shit. See, me I can take money or leave it. Tim wants to be a millionaire. *sigh* It's his passion. Work. What a weirdo. But, that's him so I support it. Not without complaint, but I do support his dreams. Even if his dream is to work. Eh. The thing that really bothers me is that he likes to pretend he's doing it for us.
*People are full of shit. That's well known I suppose but continues to astound me. Like Tim, wanting to work all the time but also wanting to pretend it's for us. Reminds me, a few years ago he would joke a lot about never getting laid. In front of people. Not because he actually never got laid but because all the guys like to joke about not getting laid. So finally I called him on it. He didn't even know he was doing it. Or other moms/wives/women always going on and on about their husbands/baby daddy's not doing their fair share in the house. They love it!! LOVE it. They love to complain about it, they love the martyrdom. Such a fuckin' bore.
*I hate hearing women say "I'll see if my husband can baby-sit" WTF? You can't baby sit your own freakin' kids. It's not the guys perpetuating this stereotype either, it's the women. The truth is, you think your husband can't do it, you treat him like he can't do it and guess what, that means he can't do it. Get over yourself and let them be a real parent to their kids. Do it for your kids, for him and for you. And most of all do it for me cause I'm tired of hearing yer shit.
*I haven't been doing the yard like I usually do. Just been doing the bare minimum. No planting, no seeding, no weeding, no coffee grounds. It looks like shit. AND for some strange reason the only perennials that have survived are all purple. It's like some purple freak lives here. Some weedy purple lover. Not that I don't like purple. I do. Just funny that it's all that's left. I better get on it. August wouldn't be the same without giant sun flowers towering over us.
*Thatcher is using sentence fragments. It's adorable. His favorite is "Made a mess". He gets a lot of use out of it. All day long. I should try and catch it on video for you guys. So cute. Almost worth the mess.
*I'm working on a couple a crap projects. (crap is Tim's little pet name for my scrappin' and craftin' shenanigans) I'll try and remember to post some pics when I finish 'em before I give them away.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Congratulations You'e the Smartest Loser!
I remember telling Tim to hurry up and decide if he wanted to have a baby. "Once Isabelle starts school I am not going to want to start over" I warned him. I had put everything on hold when she was born, and the only thing that had gotten me through was the light at the end of the tunnel when I would get to go to school. I had shit to do, I was looking forward to leaving the house and having my own life. Tim often startles me with how much he's actually paying attention to all my yammering. Our son was born a few weeks before Isabelle started kindergarten. Another surprise baby! Well, to be fair this one wasn't really that much of a shocker. You hammer long enough, the nail is going in. bwahahahaha! Oh gawd that's funny.
*ahem*
It put me in a panic. This was NOT the plan. I had put in my six years of stay at home mom time. There was no freakin' way I could give up anymore time and stay home another five years! Do you know how old I would be? So, I got it in my head that I HAD to go get my GED. Suddenly it was imperative to all our lives that I hold that paper certificate validating some sort of intelligence and ability outside of motherhood that prior and afterward I didn't give a rats ass about.
I went down to Mt. Hood Community College and paid for it. I filled out all the forms and they told me all I had to do was show up and take the five tests. I waited a while. (What's another coupla years? Haha) Several times I made arrangements for a sitter during the day that fell through. There were only two days a week when testing was in the evening (when Tim could watch Isabelle) and the times I showed up for it, they were already full. Finally I decided to take all the tests in one day against their recommendations.
So I picked a Saturday and waddled on down there, sitting in a room with teenagers and middle aged women waiting for the clock to tick by the minutes until I would be allowed to leave. I'm a fast tester. I think you either know or you don't. I really don't know math, btw. I left much of that blank. Or that's how I remember it anyway. My score was okay. Certainly passing. I spent the entire day filling in the little bubbles and wishing I could prop my feet up and walked out thinking jeez I wonder if I hafta take that math test over.
A few weeks later I received my shiny certificate. Special seals for outstanding GED scores, top two percent in Oregon, letters inviting me to hurry up and enroll in college, blah blah blah. Yes it does feel like getting the gold medal in the special Olympics, thanks for asking. So I called my mom. Told her I did it and that if she wanted to see the graduation thingy like she had been whining about for all the years since 1998 when I should have graduated, I would pay for the damn robe. She wasn't interested so I skipped it.
I put the paper away in a drawer and had another baby. Of course I'm staying home with him.
Hmmm what is my point? My cousin is graduating from high school next weekend. Class of 2008. It's got me thinking. About the way it feels to be that age. All that potential, the future so huge and plenty of time to do everything and anything. I didn't even really have that then. I missed that age I think. Other stuff going on and whatnot. SO.. I want you guys to tell me what it's like. OR if nobody really has that, if we only see it once we're old and looking at the young tell me that. And if you have something clever to go inside the card I'm making for her go ahead and tell me that too.
*ahem*
It put me in a panic. This was NOT the plan. I had put in my six years of stay at home mom time. There was no freakin' way I could give up anymore time and stay home another five years! Do you know how old I would be? So, I got it in my head that I HAD to go get my GED. Suddenly it was imperative to all our lives that I hold that paper certificate validating some sort of intelligence and ability outside of motherhood that prior and afterward I didn't give a rats ass about.
I went down to Mt. Hood Community College and paid for it. I filled out all the forms and they told me all I had to do was show up and take the five tests. I waited a while. (What's another coupla years? Haha) Several times I made arrangements for a sitter during the day that fell through. There were only two days a week when testing was in the evening (when Tim could watch Isabelle) and the times I showed up for it, they were already full. Finally I decided to take all the tests in one day against their recommendations.
So I picked a Saturday and waddled on down there, sitting in a room with teenagers and middle aged women waiting for the clock to tick by the minutes until I would be allowed to leave. I'm a fast tester. I think you either know or you don't. I really don't know math, btw. I left much of that blank. Or that's how I remember it anyway. My score was okay. Certainly passing. I spent the entire day filling in the little bubbles and wishing I could prop my feet up and walked out thinking jeez I wonder if I hafta take that math test over.
A few weeks later I received my shiny certificate. Special seals for outstanding GED scores, top two percent in Oregon, letters inviting me to hurry up and enroll in college, blah blah blah. Yes it does feel like getting the gold medal in the special Olympics, thanks for asking. So I called my mom. Told her I did it and that if she wanted to see the graduation thingy like she had been whining about for all the years since 1998 when I should have graduated, I would pay for the damn robe. She wasn't interested so I skipped it.
I put the paper away in a drawer and had another baby. Of course I'm staying home with him.
Hmmm what is my point? My cousin is graduating from high school next weekend. Class of 2008. It's got me thinking. About the way it feels to be that age. All that potential, the future so huge and plenty of time to do everything and anything. I didn't even really have that then. I missed that age I think. Other stuff going on and whatnot. SO.. I want you guys to tell me what it's like. OR if nobody really has that, if we only see it once we're old and looking at the young tell me that. And if you have something clever to go inside the card I'm making for her go ahead and tell me that too.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Some Thoughts and a Dew Over
Something happened to my blog.
Real people infiltrated. People who see me. See through me.
Much as I claim I hate to NOT be seen I'm actually full of shit.
Don't look at me! Don't touch me! And also Fuck you!
Heh.
It's like I've had my skin peeled off and now it won't go back on right.
I'm in a funk. All clusterfucky and complicated. I want simple. Except I don't. I just don't have any answers and I'm worn out.
I want the days to stop slipping by so fast.
I want everything to change. And stay the same.
I know I hafta shake it off. I know the dust will settle and find it's way back into all the cracks.
I hate that too.
Don't patronize me with helpful kind comments!
I'm fine.
*************************************************
In other news…. Everyone around here is buzzing about the weather forecast. Apparently this weekend is going to be spectacular. Reminded me of a post from last year about this time. So here ya go, another Dew Over.
Please Recycle Your Plastic Ponchos Portland
Here in P-town we're having our annual spring tease. Every year around this time the weather gets fantastic for about two weeks. I'm not talking about a seventy degree spring day. I'm talking about real summer weather. You go to bed after another cloudy with more than a chance of rain day and wake up in August. It's thrilling to say the least and it very much goes to our heads.
We emerge from our rain beaten homes, throw off our plastic ponchos and bare our pale, pale, legs without shame. We drive with abandon, letting one arm hang out the window, the better to catch every last vitamin d soaked ray shining down at us and drivers tan is common.
The streets are crowded with pedestrians and it's quite a spectacle. The ladies are in sundresses, short shorts and sandals. The skateboarders climb out from under their bridges and glide through neighborhoods drinking giant fountain sodas. Speeding bicycles carry everyone from young mom's with their children riding tandem to professionals with their work shoes in their backpack. Toddlers sit blinking in their strollers, it's quite possible this is their first sun experience and despite the terrible hat tied to their head they love it too.
Children become unruly and their parents relish making use of the almost forgotten phrase "Go play outside!" without having to search for rubber boots and tiny umbrellas shaped like lady bugs. Instead we rummage in the medicine cabinet for sunscreen and wonder if it's even any good by now.
Those of us folly enough to own a convertible or motorcycle in the rain forest, by golly we're on or in it for the duration of the cloud break. You could play connect the dots from a helicopter just using the balding heads in little convertible sports cars and on idling crotch rockets.
With the radio turned up and huge goofy grins on our faces we sit in the traffic beaming at one another. Everyone has something in the back of their automobile. A plastic kiddy pool, a new cooler and beers ready to go on ice, a household project or even plants waiting to be put in the ground at their new home.
There's a feeling in the air that finally things are starting to go our way. That by gawd we deserve this! We have earned it! We go camping, we rock climb, we drive to the beach, we bbq, we jump in the river. We milk every goddamn moment.
No one mentions what's going to happen when the clouds roll back in, as they always do, just in time for our Rose Festival. Everyone wants to forget that we end up watching the Grand Floral Parade from underneath a tarp every year. That the cloud cover is so bad on Fourth of July, your front yard ends up with the air quality of a seedy bar.
That's just how we roll in P-town. In the moment, by the seat of our pants and as many a trashy bumpersticker on our cars will tell you we like to "Keep Portland WEIRD".
I wonder, are we really so weird? Is this happening all over the country, the world? Does everyone have spring fever where you are?
Real people infiltrated. People who see me. See through me.
Much as I claim I hate to NOT be seen I'm actually full of shit.
Don't look at me! Don't touch me! And also Fuck you!
Heh.
It's like I've had my skin peeled off and now it won't go back on right.
I'm in a funk. All clusterfucky and complicated. I want simple. Except I don't. I just don't have any answers and I'm worn out.
I want the days to stop slipping by so fast.
I want everything to change. And stay the same.
I know I hafta shake it off. I know the dust will settle and find it's way back into all the cracks.
I hate that too.
Don't patronize me with helpful kind comments!
I'm fine.
*************************************************
In other news…. Everyone around here is buzzing about the weather forecast. Apparently this weekend is going to be spectacular. Reminded me of a post from last year about this time. So here ya go, another Dew Over.
Please Recycle Your Plastic Ponchos Portland
Here in P-town we're having our annual spring tease. Every year around this time the weather gets fantastic for about two weeks. I'm not talking about a seventy degree spring day. I'm talking about real summer weather. You go to bed after another cloudy with more than a chance of rain day and wake up in August. It's thrilling to say the least and it very much goes to our heads.
We emerge from our rain beaten homes, throw off our plastic ponchos and bare our pale, pale, legs without shame. We drive with abandon, letting one arm hang out the window, the better to catch every last vitamin d soaked ray shining down at us and drivers tan is common.
The streets are crowded with pedestrians and it's quite a spectacle. The ladies are in sundresses, short shorts and sandals. The skateboarders climb out from under their bridges and glide through neighborhoods drinking giant fountain sodas. Speeding bicycles carry everyone from young mom's with their children riding tandem to professionals with their work shoes in their backpack. Toddlers sit blinking in their strollers, it's quite possible this is their first sun experience and despite the terrible hat tied to their head they love it too.
Children become unruly and their parents relish making use of the almost forgotten phrase "Go play outside!" without having to search for rubber boots and tiny umbrellas shaped like lady bugs. Instead we rummage in the medicine cabinet for sunscreen and wonder if it's even any good by now.
Those of us folly enough to own a convertible or motorcycle in the rain forest, by golly we're on or in it for the duration of the cloud break. You could play connect the dots from a helicopter just using the balding heads in little convertible sports cars and on idling crotch rockets.
With the radio turned up and huge goofy grins on our faces we sit in the traffic beaming at one another. Everyone has something in the back of their automobile. A plastic kiddy pool, a new cooler and beers ready to go on ice, a household project or even plants waiting to be put in the ground at their new home.
There's a feeling in the air that finally things are starting to go our way. That by gawd we deserve this! We have earned it! We go camping, we rock climb, we drive to the beach, we bbq, we jump in the river. We milk every goddamn moment.
No one mentions what's going to happen when the clouds roll back in, as they always do, just in time for our Rose Festival. Everyone wants to forget that we end up watching the Grand Floral Parade from underneath a tarp every year. That the cloud cover is so bad on Fourth of July, your front yard ends up with the air quality of a seedy bar.
That's just how we roll in P-town. In the moment, by the seat of our pants and as many a trashy bumpersticker on our cars will tell you we like to "Keep Portland WEIRD".
I wonder, are we really so weird? Is this happening all over the country, the world? Does everyone have spring fever where you are?
Friday, May 9, 2008
I Can't Take the Smell (Dew Over)
His nostrils flair in disgust and sounds begin escaping his throat in bursts that can only be compared to a cat working on a particularly ornery hairball. As his eyes begin to water and his groans reach operatic peaks, I stop staring at him in amazement to look down at our son. There he is, almost three months old and the epitome of perfection. All chubby glowing skin and big adoring eyes staring at his daddy as the man he will emulate above all others succumbs to dry wretches over him.
"Are you kidding me?" My voice is colored with it's own shades of disgust. I have seen this man take a dirty dish out of the sink and serve up lunch on it without even blinking. In fact, I have witnessed him commit so many atrocities in culinary experimentation I seriously considered sending him on Fear Factor, knowing he would be a sure thing. I am shocked and taken aback at his theatrical presentation of Man Tries To Survive Changing A Diaper in our living room.
"I can't take the smell…….I think I'm allergic or something, it's so bad" His voice is rising to near hysterical pitches while he frantically pulls wipe after wipe out of the handy dispenser. With one hand he delicately holds Thatcher's feet up and with his fingertips clutching the moist wipe barely dabs at the tiny baby buns in front of him before tossing the wipe in a bag that must already hold 15, only to grab another all the while holding his head as far away as possible from ground zero.
"You're telling me there is something physically wrong with you that makes it impossible for you to change a poopy diaper?" I don't even bother to disguise my incredulous snort. "Just wait 'til he starts eating solids."
I know what he's doing. He wants me to jump in and do it. He's hoping if he's terrible enough at this I will take over. Unfortunately for him this is my second baby. I'm not as insanely over-protective of this one. I know he will not only survive a poorly changed diaper, but perhaps even be better for it. As the final act reaches it's conclusion and little Thatch is dry and clean. I see Tim tenderly cradle our son to his chest murmuring "all done".
I know they will both be better for it.
"Are you kidding me?" My voice is colored with it's own shades of disgust. I have seen this man take a dirty dish out of the sink and serve up lunch on it without even blinking. In fact, I have witnessed him commit so many atrocities in culinary experimentation I seriously considered sending him on Fear Factor, knowing he would be a sure thing. I am shocked and taken aback at his theatrical presentation of Man Tries To Survive Changing A Diaper in our living room.
"I can't take the smell…….I think I'm allergic or something, it's so bad" His voice is rising to near hysterical pitches while he frantically pulls wipe after wipe out of the handy dispenser. With one hand he delicately holds Thatcher's feet up and with his fingertips clutching the moist wipe barely dabs at the tiny baby buns in front of him before tossing the wipe in a bag that must already hold 15, only to grab another all the while holding his head as far away as possible from ground zero.
"You're telling me there is something physically wrong with you that makes it impossible for you to change a poopy diaper?" I don't even bother to disguise my incredulous snort. "Just wait 'til he starts eating solids."
I know what he's doing. He wants me to jump in and do it. He's hoping if he's terrible enough at this I will take over. Unfortunately for him this is my second baby. I'm not as insanely over-protective of this one. I know he will not only survive a poorly changed diaper, but perhaps even be better for it. As the final act reaches it's conclusion and little Thatch is dry and clean. I see Tim tenderly cradle our son to his chest murmuring "all done".
I know they will both be better for it.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Get Ready For Mom Day (Dew Over)
This is a Dew Over posted last year on the old profile. I'm sure the writing bug will come back but in the meantime I'll torture you with reruns.
I didn't decide to become a mom before I was pregnant. Even after peeing on several plastic sticks and seeing the two blue lines running parallel to one another I wasn't sure I was going to be a mom. I wasn't ready, he wasn't right and I wanted better for my possible children who existed only in the future. This was the nineties, I had choices. So, I made the appointment. I went all the way downtown on a bus nauseous, scared and alone. I listened to everything the nurses said in a fog. Surely this wasn't me wearing the gown with my feet in the stirrups waiting for a doctor to undo two blue lines.
As I waited there I slowly became aware of my internal dialogue. I was thinking her. I could feel her. That little cluster of cells was counting on me. That's when I became a mother. With tears running down my face, in a torrent of extra estrogen and in pants already too tight I blasted out of that office and into the elevator. I even made it all the way to the restroom in the lobby before I threw up. I remember thinking, 'It can't get any worse than this'.
*snort*
Welcome to motherhood, the biggest thrill ride of your life. I'm not talking about parenting. I'm talking about being "Mom". These days there's only one big difference between being a mom and being a dad and nausea is just the beginning of it. Can you imagine the side effect warnings on this prescription?
Go ahead, ask your doctor about pregnancy today.
WARNING: (side effects may include but are not limited to)
Massive and quick weight gain, stretch marks, LABOR, possible abdominal surgery, hormone overload, firm perky breasts becoming milk sacks, ankles resembling elephant feet, vagina tearing to the point it is considered part of butt, death!
All in the first nine months! Then you have the sleepless months, the anxiety, the fact that a piece of your heart is now living outside your body as a separate human being who won't turn five before they've shouted "I hate you!" from time-out.
It's easy to share all the trials of being a mom and much harder to express why we love it anyway.
I'm going to share something my daughter expressed to me during tuck-in time this evening. She told me about a picture she drew of feeling sad. She said "My face was tiny but the tear coming out of my eye was this big." while holding her arms as wide as they could go. "The feeling was just too big to fit on my body."
That's what it is to be a mom. The feeling is so big it doesn't fit in your body. It certainly can't be fit into a blog and btw good luck getting it all on that tiny card that comes with the floral arrangement.
I had more to share about being a mom but Thatch woke up for no apparent reason and I have to try and convince him it's time for sleeping. That's right, the side effects are life long.
Mother's Day is this Sunday. Get on it.
Chop-chop!
I didn't decide to become a mom before I was pregnant. Even after peeing on several plastic sticks and seeing the two blue lines running parallel to one another I wasn't sure I was going to be a mom. I wasn't ready, he wasn't right and I wanted better for my possible children who existed only in the future. This was the nineties, I had choices. So, I made the appointment. I went all the way downtown on a bus nauseous, scared and alone. I listened to everything the nurses said in a fog. Surely this wasn't me wearing the gown with my feet in the stirrups waiting for a doctor to undo two blue lines.
As I waited there I slowly became aware of my internal dialogue. I was thinking her. I could feel her. That little cluster of cells was counting on me. That's when I became a mother. With tears running down my face, in a torrent of extra estrogen and in pants already too tight I blasted out of that office and into the elevator. I even made it all the way to the restroom in the lobby before I threw up. I remember thinking, 'It can't get any worse than this'.
*snort*
Welcome to motherhood, the biggest thrill ride of your life. I'm not talking about parenting. I'm talking about being "Mom". These days there's only one big difference between being a mom and being a dad and nausea is just the beginning of it. Can you imagine the side effect warnings on this prescription?
Go ahead, ask your doctor about pregnancy today.
WARNING: (side effects may include but are not limited to)
Massive and quick weight gain, stretch marks, LABOR, possible abdominal surgery, hormone overload, firm perky breasts becoming milk sacks, ankles resembling elephant feet, vagina tearing to the point it is considered part of butt, death!
All in the first nine months! Then you have the sleepless months, the anxiety, the fact that a piece of your heart is now living outside your body as a separate human being who won't turn five before they've shouted "I hate you!" from time-out.
It's easy to share all the trials of being a mom and much harder to express why we love it anyway.
I'm going to share something my daughter expressed to me during tuck-in time this evening. She told me about a picture she drew of feeling sad. She said "My face was tiny but the tear coming out of my eye was this big." while holding her arms as wide as they could go. "The feeling was just too big to fit on my body."
That's what it is to be a mom. The feeling is so big it doesn't fit in your body. It certainly can't be fit into a blog and btw good luck getting it all on that tiny card that comes with the floral arrangement.
I had more to share about being a mom but Thatch woke up for no apparent reason and I have to try and convince him it's time for sleeping. That's right, the side effects are life long.
Mother's Day is this Sunday. Get on it.
Chop-chop!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
The Diarrhea Chronicles SBT Edition
"No, Thatch! Get off me! You can't sit here!" Calli insisted as Thatch desperately crawled all over her, book in hand.
"Awww….. He just wants to hear a story!" I teased. "It's like a person can't even crap in your lap one time without you holding a grudge!"
Tim's daddy in charge voice interrupted "No Thatch. The girls don't want to read stories right now." He scooped Thatch up and the wails began anew.
"I can't hear that sound anymore." I said "I mean it! I can't go on hearing that sound…." I dramatically snapped a towel and folded it. "I don't care what anyone has to do as long as he's not making that sound!"
"He has to learn to listen to the girls." Tim said. Like I'm not the one who put him through daddy boot camp. I sauntered over to the girls on the couch, standing in front of their cartoon.
"Calli!" I whined dramatically "Let me sit in your lap!" I teased her by pretending to sit on her. "But I'm even wearing pants!" She laughed and pushed me off her while Isabelle dramatically bobbed her head around to see the television.
"Dew(ed)…." Tim's voice warned. Is there anything funnier than the student bossing the teacher?
"What? You haven't been here all day cleaning up shit." I pointed out. "If you were, you would have tied Thatcher to the girls four hours ago. I would come home and find you sobbing in the tree out front."
He was next to me much faster than I had expected, and just kept stepping as I began to laugh and back away. His hands wrapped around my upper arms and propelled me backwards down the hall, stopping rather unexpectedly in the door jam to the master bedroom.
"You can take the horse to water…" I started
"I don't think you see where you are." He retorted with a grin.
"Huh?" I was startled and intrigued at this turn of events. He pointed to the door jam with one of his fingers and a blush immediately sprang to my face. He released my arms and folded his.
"Remember? I'm in charge in here." He stood tall in his victory.
"You're not in here, I am." I gestured to the space between us and stepped squarely in the door jam lifting my chin up. "So I'm in charge by default." I snaked my arms up around his neck, pressing my body into his and pulling his head down to mine to kiss him lightly on the lips. I held my mouth there a moment and slid my tongue across his lips before sliding over to whisper in his ear. "So you think you're in charge in the bedroom?" I let my left hand slide down his chest and slipped my fingers just inside the waistband of his pants. When his head tilted back, I put my hands on his hips and used his body to anchor me in a slow slide toward the floor, occasionally kissing him along the way.
Once down there it was an easy enough escape through the space between his legs. Please people, there was a rhea time bomb bounding through the house, ya thought I'd blow him in the hallway?
Get yer rocks off here : SBT
Hosted this week by the charming Ad Astra, The topic is You're Going To Stick What Where?
Yeah. I'm scared too. It's almost as scary as the title was to this. :)
Happy May Day!
"Awww….. He just wants to hear a story!" I teased. "It's like a person can't even crap in your lap one time without you holding a grudge!"
Tim's daddy in charge voice interrupted "No Thatch. The girls don't want to read stories right now." He scooped Thatch up and the wails began anew.
"I can't hear that sound anymore." I said "I mean it! I can't go on hearing that sound…." I dramatically snapped a towel and folded it. "I don't care what anyone has to do as long as he's not making that sound!"
"He has to learn to listen to the girls." Tim said. Like I'm not the one who put him through daddy boot camp. I sauntered over to the girls on the couch, standing in front of their cartoon.
"Calli!" I whined dramatically "Let me sit in your lap!" I teased her by pretending to sit on her. "But I'm even wearing pants!" She laughed and pushed me off her while Isabelle dramatically bobbed her head around to see the television.
"Dew(ed)…." Tim's voice warned. Is there anything funnier than the student bossing the teacher?
"What? You haven't been here all day cleaning up shit." I pointed out. "If you were, you would have tied Thatcher to the girls four hours ago. I would come home and find you sobbing in the tree out front."
He was next to me much faster than I had expected, and just kept stepping as I began to laugh and back away. His hands wrapped around my upper arms and propelled me backwards down the hall, stopping rather unexpectedly in the door jam to the master bedroom.
"You can take the horse to water…" I started
"I don't think you see where you are." He retorted with a grin.
"Huh?" I was startled and intrigued at this turn of events. He pointed to the door jam with one of his fingers and a blush immediately sprang to my face. He released my arms and folded his.
"Remember? I'm in charge in here." He stood tall in his victory.
"You're not in here, I am." I gestured to the space between us and stepped squarely in the door jam lifting my chin up. "So I'm in charge by default." I snaked my arms up around his neck, pressing my body into his and pulling his head down to mine to kiss him lightly on the lips. I held my mouth there a moment and slid my tongue across his lips before sliding over to whisper in his ear. "So you think you're in charge in the bedroom?" I let my left hand slide down his chest and slipped my fingers just inside the waistband of his pants. When his head tilted back, I put my hands on his hips and used his body to anchor me in a slow slide toward the floor, occasionally kissing him along the way.
Once down there it was an easy enough escape through the space between his legs. Please people, there was a rhea time bomb bounding through the house, ya thought I'd blow him in the hallway?
Get yer rocks off here : SBT
Hosted this week by the charming Ad Astra, The topic is You're Going To Stick What Where?
Yeah. I'm scared too. It's almost as scary as the title was to this. :)
Happy May Day!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)