song 1

Wow, full circle. A year ago today i was sitting on the floor of Pete's room in Mark and Tracey's house going through the painstakingly-made top 15 lists of some of my besties. i highly, highly recommend having a top 15 'party' of your own with your besties. It's enlightening and fun. It's really easy too: you plan a date and tell everyone to come with a cd of their top 15 songs, in order of toppest to 15th-est, then you take turns going through your choices and why you chose them. The only rule is that there's no judgement. 14 Britney Spears songs and 1 Muse song? So be it. You must ascribe to 'to each his/her own' when engaging in the top 15 sharing circle. Anyway, we made copies of our mixes for everyone. It's best to plan the event a month out to allow everyone time to really think about their lists, because for most, it's a challenging task. Although it has nothing to do with new years, ours happened to be on new years and it's a superb memory.

i hadn't planned on stretching out the bloglist of my top 15 for the entire year, but i just happened to realize today was the anniversary and i'm down to my number 1. How keen! Perhaps it's a sign and 2010 will be a keen year..... hmmmm....

Song One.

You know this song, it's programmed into your subconscious if you were born around or after 1979. It was originally written by Paul Williams and Kenny Ascher as a soundtrack song and recorded by Jim Henson's alter ego, Kermit, the frog. (Wiki has good backstory on this song, in case you're curious.) Many, many artists have recorded their own versions, to varying results. Sarah McLachlan has a beautiful version and the Dixie Chicks prominently feature the original's signature banjo in theirs. But these are not my choice.

My choice is Willie.

As i've said before, when i began constructing my top 15 it was helpful to list a few artists i knew were important enough to my musical life to include, and then select a favorite song from said artist. One such artist was Willie Nelson, because my siblings and i were raised on Willie, James Taylor, and the Eagles. And because like everyone else born in the early 80s, i was also raised on/by The Muppets, the natural convergence would be the song of all songs, The Rainbow Connection. Is it a little cliche of a choice? Sappy? Sure. But i'm not just choosing a childhood song, and a 'can't-we-all-just-get-along-while-we-follow-our-dreams?' song at that. i chose Willie's version for it's musicality. (Kermit, bless his goofy heart, is not the world's most melodious singer) Sarah McLachlan's version is very musical, but too ethereal. i prefer Willie's version for it's grounded simplicity and guitarity. (Yup, just made up a really awesome word.)

It's a great song because it's a little melancholy and wistful in that Robert Browning 'ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?' sense. (you know, that sense? the one everyone's always talking about? no? just me? *sigh*) It's also very optimistic and inspirational, which is why, i think, i gravitate toward to the Willie Nelson recording. His voice is at times raw, at times wavery, at times imperfect, and those factors, combined with the earthy and bare guitar keep the 'follow your dreams' message from taking over and making it a very saccharine, very American-Idol-finale type of musical gag-inducer. i love Willie Nelson's voice, some songs much more so than others, so when i knew i wanted a Willie song on my top 15 i searched for one that i felt accurately demonstrated why his voice is one of my most favorites and this was obviously one.

Another one of my methods for deciding which songs would make the top 15 was the method of 'would i want this song played at my funeral and what would it say about me if it were?' i know, totally dramatic and self-absorbed, right? Whatever. This was one that made it through that filter.

Concluding, in sum, finally and at last: please to enjoy my number-1-most song of everness, 'Rainbow Connection', as performed by Willie Nelson.

sum of all fears

Our dearest darling dog, Penny, is a mutt of some sorts, but is mostly pit bull.
In case you've been living under a rock for 10 years, pit bulls are unilaterally feared and hated because they breathe fire and murder virgins and traffic humans across borders to harvest their organs and stuff. They're large, sleek and muscular, so they tend to attract owners who prioritize strength and, subsequently, violence in the same way small, curly-haired and simpering dogs attract little old ladies and girls with large purses. The different appearances and temperments of dog breeds are what make them the #1 household pet of humans; this is why it works. Anyway, pits attract jerks and bottom feeders like Michael Vick and that creepy guy who lives around the corner, and these a-holes rear their dogs in irresponsible, dangerous ways and then the rest of the world goes, 'Bad dogs! Inherently evil! Should be banned from breathing oxygen! Gahhhhh!'
There are bright spots: pit bull rescue organizations like Villalobos and celebrity advocates like Rachel Ray (hey! she's good for something!) and just about every time we take Penny out on local walking trails at least one person will fawn over her and share their own pro-pit testimony. i don't doubt that for every 1 local fan there are 5 people who shoot dagger-eyes as soon as we pass and move their children to the other side of the trail when they see us coming, but phooey on them.
i'm aware that there are bad pits out there and people are allowed to form their opinion on their experiences. My friend was a police officer in the Bay Area for 6 years and she witnessed things that will prevent her from ever being completely comfortable around pit bulls. i will probably never own a German Shepherd because of the time our family pet threatened me. Experiences should form our opinions, though, not fear-mongering or gossip.
A lecture is not why i started this post, but apparently i woke up on the defensive side of the bed.
We have a pit-mutt. We adopted her from a local rescue group who had busted her out of the pound before she could be euthanized; she was in the pound because her owner was a shady character and had been taken to court. She is needy and neurotic but also loyal and silly and affectionate and she's learning to catch treats. Here is a list of things our big, scary, baby-killing dog is absolutely terrified by:

-tape measures, both the hardware kind for measuring walls and the sewing kind for measuring sleeves
-ladders
-cell phones
-cameras
-hairspray
-wrapping paper
-showerheads
-small plastic tubes
-Furminators

Not scared of but maybe should be? Fire. Possums. Mormons. Don't look for the rhyme or reason. She's a strange dog, befitting her environment and owners i suppose. She's available for loan if you need some dog therapy or want to do a pit test run before adopting your own.

what do you DO anywhere?

We went on holiday, as the Britties say. We ditched our biological families and spent Thanksgiving and its companion days cavorting around the great northwest in our little car. First we drove through Oregon in the rainy dark. It was literally dry and nice in California and then the minute we crossed the border it started snowing, because Oregon has a HUGE chip on its shoulder and just has to prove that it's NOT California, thankyouverymuch. So it was rainy and dark for 4 hours and i'm going to say something, but i'm going to preface it with this: Oregon is very pretty. At night? in the rain? MOST BORING DRIVE E V E R. You might argue that any drive in the dark is going to be boring, but i disagree. There's not a whole lot going on in OR along the i-5 corridor. No towns. No lights. No signs to read. BOR. ING. (See the attached image that i took with my fancy camera at the most exciting part of the drive.) So go ahead, Gonies, get your angry comments fingers flexing and bring it on, but the beauty of a blog is that i don't have to account for what i say. (love you)

Anyway, we got to Portland in the dark rain and arrived at Erin's home and proceeded to play with Erin (hi Erin!) for the next few days. With the exception of our drive, the weather was gorgy (which it always is when we're in town (which leads Erin to believe we're witches (which i'm not going to deny because a lady has to maintain her mystique))). We strolled through the park, we shopped, we dined, and we went to Tony Starlight's Supper Club & Lounge and heard Erin's roommate, Tara, and a handful of other talents do Johnny Mercer right. GREAT music, drinks and food with just enough camp to keep the stuffies away. i highly recommend paying Tony and his crooners a visit the next time you're in Portland. After Erin wiped her hands of us we met up with Pete and Bets and enjoyed some boozy milkshakes and Por Que No food. Good times all around.

After we bid adieu to those hipsters, we connected with Katie, Bobby and their unborn burrito, Trixie True Trihub*. It was a short visit, about 16 hours including sleeping, but they're always super fun to see and they have the world's most comfortable couch.

Back on the 5 (which is an interstate) and up into Washington, where there are no billboards. Did you know that? No billboards in the state of Washington. Just trees. Oh, another word about Oregon: several Adult Shops (one with a 24 hour arcade!) along the 5. Kinda pervy, O-gon. Just a little bit. Anyway, Washington. Trees. No rain, but mucho water. i don't think i've ever driven through WA before, i didn't realize how spotty it was. Lots of inlets and bays and ports. i had no clue. (the more you know...dun dun dun duuuuun....cue peacock graphic) We made to tiny Bremerton and to Jason and Winter's lovely old house on the water. What water? i dunno. We're talking about Washington here, could've been any water. Kitties Lola and Buster were like 'Oh my goodness! Kallie is here! We're so excited we're going to pee our kittypants! We love Kallie so much!**' J and Winter took us to see Samudra, the business Winter and Kath opened and for which Josh designed the logo and i served as human resources consultant***. It was super great to finally see the studio and cafe that we've heard so much about for so long. Samudra was beach chic- homey and peaceful and stylish. The foods and drinks were absolutely delish, especially the fun iced tea whose name i've forgotten but starts with an S.

Wednesday night we went to the world's coolest grocery store and shopped and dined in Poulsbo, which is like the Norwegian version of Chinatown (Lefse included. Yay lefse!). i don't remember the name of the restaurant where we et, but if you're looking for a high-style meal and vino at a surprisingly good price, go to Poulsbo and find the restaurant a few doors down from Sluy's (not Slutty's) bakery with the signage in Papyrus font. (Yes, i know. But this is a good reason why we shouldn't judge an establishment based solely on its chosen type treatment) tra la la la....what's next...

Thursday morning, Day of Giving Thanks: up very early (well, early for a vacay day) to go to Samudra and do yoga for the first time ever. We were a bit nervy because we are out of shape, not very bendy, and have never done yoga, but it was a good time! Teacher Kath led a very twisty class- all the twisties squeezed our organs and then unsqueezed them so the blood rushed around and got our digesters ready for the big meal. Then we had Thanksgiving with the Mitchell/Niemeyer/Nicholson clan which included TWO turkeys, a delish ginger/cider/vodka cocktail, and a boatload of madly rad green beans. After the meal was et and the family departed, J and Winter's friend Mike popped in to say hello. Mike has many, many tattoos and is the main dude for a punky little band you may have heard of: MxPx. (Yup. It's like that.) We played Apples to Apples (which is a super game) and had a lovely punk rawk time.

Friday, we and the rest of Kitsap county went to the Christmas tree farm to select J and Winter's tree....which i just realized we forgot to name. (everything needs a name, except cattle, sheep and other creatures you plan on eating. i learned that the hard way, but that is for another blog on another day.) Perhaps the tree should be Trixie True. Write that down, Winter. i discovered that there is a breed of tree called the Shasta Fir (not to be confused with Brendafer) so that was a delightful shoutout to the RDG way up in Washer country. We skillfully attached the tree to the top of the compact car, then proceeded to pile all 5 of us in to the car through the only working door: the driver's. Teehee....lesson learned. Afterward we put up holiday decor at Samudra and ate a bizarre and wonderful dinner of green beans, yam casserole, and fresh Puget Sound crab. i'd never et crab before, and i'm still not sure i like it enough to counteract the squeamy factor of cracking the creature apart. Still, mark that one off my bucket list.

On Saturday i went to the dentist, which is what i do when i'm on holiday. The dentist in question was J, so it was fun, and i got prescription toothpaste. (How many people do you know whose teeth are so bad they need prescription toothpaste? Probably just me. If you know me. If you don't....Hi. Nice to not-exactly meet you.) Later we went to pizza and got drinks at the oh-so-odd Hi-Fidelity Lounge, where Samudra employee Vanessa LePapillon was performing. She was very talented and we enjoyed people-watching a Liev Schrieber lookalike who was trying to stay awake and sober. (Liev: "Cannnn i getnother Comsopotilan?" Bartender: "If you can't pronounce it you can't order it." Haha!)

Sunday we drove back. Boo. Oregon wasn't so bad in the light and we stopped for some Christmas shopping at Bridgeport Village. Whilst in one particular hoitytoit-yet-bohemian-kitsch store whose name certainly does not rhyme with Anthropolgie, a salesperson initiated a conversation with Josh about where we lived. Being relatively familiar with Northern California, she was most curious to know just what sort of profession the two of us professed because, in her words she 'just always wanted to know what people DO in Redding.' (emphasis hers) To reiterate, the 40-something woman selling overpriced mugs in a mall wanted to know what there could possibly be in weirdo, podunk Redding that would allow anyone to eek out a paycheck, so help her God. i was a little steamed. i wanted to punch her in her overpriced face and then run out of the store with one of the $148 cardigans****.

And then we drove home. The end.

*Trixie True is an in-utero baby who is not actually named Trixie True......yet.

**At least, this was how i interpreted the hissing and swiping every time i walked past them or how every time i tried to pet them they ran away and hid.

***This consisted of saying 'yes, i agree that you should fire the cranky barista who reads celebrity gossip on the company computer on company time.' And yes, this image of your banana bowl comes up on page 1 of Google Images for the keyword search 'samudra yoga, bremerton.'

****Clearly, i was conflicted.

song 2

Oh song 2, i love you. i love you more than all the other songs except song 1. i've found that i have an affection for a heavy down beat and chipper lyrics, especially in congress. These lyrics are decidedly optimistic:

"Bad news comes don't you worry even when it lands
Good news will work its way to all them plans
We both got fired on exactly the same day
Well we'll float on good news is on the way

And we'll all float on, ok....
Alright already we'll all float on
Alright don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy
We'll all float on...alright already we'll all float on"

Tell me all about it, Wikipedia!
-The song came out in 2004 on the album "Good News for People Who Love Bad News." Asked about the song in an interview with The A.V. Club, Isaac Brock said that he consciously intended to write something that felt more positive than some of his previous work:

“	It was a completely conscious thing. I was just kind of fed up with how bad s**t had been going, and how dark everything was, with bad news coming from everywhere....Then you've got the well-intentioned scientists telling us that everything is f****d. I just want to feel good for a day."	”
—Isaac Brock, The A.V. Club

i love that there are two distinct halves to the song: the stiff, staccato, marching verses and the looping, hand-in-the-breeze-out-the-window-of-the-car, 'floating' (if you will) of the chorus. i love the way it's steps away and then jumps back in around the 2:30 mark. It's a great song to drive to because it's easy to play on the steering wheel. There was a really wonderful alternative rock radio station when we lived in Elk Barf and it would play this song semi-regularly.... just rarely enough that it was still special when it came on. Whenever i heard it then, and now (which is never rarely b/c it's always on a cd since there is a nary a station in the greater Shasta County area that would ever deign to play something alternative, cool, or indie) it instantly improves my mood 96%, which means if i'm already in a good mood, i immediately feel 96% gooder. The following is not the official music video, (i'm not allowed to embed that) it's a fan slideshow, but i knew i had to embed the song in order for you to listen to it, which you MUST, even if you already know the song. You need to listen to it now, in the context of MEEEEEEEEE and things i LIIIIIIIKE.

ya know?

Since i seem to be obsessed with common language barf-ups and idiosyncracies, this video - sent to me by my good pal Jamileh - was right up my alley. And since it was all typographyish and designy, i was able to get Josh to watch it with me.

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

Bye Bye Birdie

A rite of passage 4 years in the making occurred in our little family yesterday. Cosmo, who is a member of the species felis silvestris catus, finally FINALLY F I N A L L Y did a felis silvestris catus-like thing and deposited a small dead creature on our doorstep. (it was a bird) Here's the thing: Cosmo is a mean, ornery, domineering animal. He is short on affection and long on demands. He abandoned such trivial practices as 'play' years ago and his relationship with us now consists mostly of:
-'FEED ME, SIMPLETONS.'
-'FEED ME MORE.'
-'NO. YOU WILL NOT WRAP A PRESENT OR CUT A SEWING PATTERN ON THIS PARTICULAR PART OF THE FLOOR- I DECIDED I WANT TO LAY HERE. WAIT FOR ME TO FINISH.'
-'LET ME IN, KNUCKLEDRAGGERS.'
-'LET ME OUT, DAMN YOU.'
-'LET ME BACK IN AND FEED ME MORE FOOD.'
-'EXCUSE YOUR FACE, I'M TRYING TO GET TO THE WINDOW. I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE SLEEPING.'
-'MOVE YOUR BOWL DOWN SO I CAN BIFF AT YOUR CHEERIOS WITH MY PAW. NOW.'
-'LET ME OUT. YOU AND THE WHITE CREATURE BORE ME.'
-'TAKE YOUR HAND OFF MY FUR, YOU'LL MAKE IT DIRTY.'
-'I HATE YOUR ANKLES, HOLD STILL WHILE I MAKE THEM BLEED AS PUNISHMENT FOR EXISTING.'
-'DON'T BOTHER ME, I'M SHARING A SPECIAL MOMENT WITH THIS BLANKET AND THIS BLANKET LIKES ME JUST THE WAY I AM.'
(imagine all of that said in a voice similar to a Stewie Griffin's, only more bored, and maybe with a touch of Willem Defoe)

In light of this less than loving situation, for him to leave us a present (even one as misunderstood as a dead, possibly diseased thing) is nearly stunning in its implications. HE LOVES US, he just has a hard time saying it for fear of rejection. We were very moved; so much so that we mounted the dead bird to a board and hung it on the mantle with the date and some of Cosmo's paw prints as a signature.

Well, there's always the possibility that he truly hates us and deposited the bird on the doorstep much like the ol' horse head in the mattress message. That's probably more likely. It's surely more of a 'You're next, bitches' message than a 'Thank you for rescuing me from the jaws of euthanization and always giving me food and shelter and medical care and staying up late to make sure i come home in one piece instead of making me spend the night outside with the fugly possums and sketchy alley cats.' Of course, there's no way of proving that he didn't:
-Find a the bird already dead and drag it around out of boredom until he found something more interesting to be creepy with.
-Steal the prized kill from the neighbor's cat (i call him Catsumoto because he looks like a samurai. What? it's funny!) with whom he has a 2.5 year staring contest rivalry, and claim it as his own.
-Systematically lace the earth with arsenic and other chemicals, causing local insects to absorb it and build up a tolerance and thus poison and kill the bird that ate the insects. (Do not put it past him. The minute you declare anything as 'beyond him' is the minute he decides that is how he will destroy you.)
-Kill the bird as a representation of his tough catliness to send a message to all the neighborhood kitties (there are plenty). Our yard may look like a litter box, but it's his litter box and his only. Know about it.

i suppose the case of the toe-up doorstep bird will remain a mystery until our giant angry beast of anger is caught in the act of being something less than diabolical and more like a pet.

return of the texts

Another round of going through my phone and finding funny texts, usually without contexts and always accurately transcribed. 

This female will steal my soul through my pizzle!

me want beer. 

As long as you smell like Anthro.

We might have to bake two so we can eat one. Maybe we can turn Pete's twin cake into a hoarcrux. 

Is he butch or the kid?

Projectile vomitting: not as funny or as fun as the movies make it out to be. 

I'm listening to the funniest slut ever talking out loud on her cell in starbucks!

Wayne just brought us a still twitching gopher.

Supposably she is a college gratuate!

It makes me happy to know that people in the business world read that book. Like somehow it will be ok somehow...

Today is the day you emerged from your mother's va-jay-jay. Way to go!

For your birthday present i was wondering if i might be able to borrow your vacuum?

Georgia Nicholson is the Mighty B in six years. 

Babysitting when you're drunk is really hard. 

We'll let you know if we find crab people in the caves.

By the way, would u like a small used dog?

Steve just asked "didn't we just sing this last week?"

My riblets hurt.

Look at you go with your golf references!

Not if I poke holes in your condoms!!

That "so you like throwing up" brochure was kinda sad and awesome.

And to the republic of awesomeness on which she stands!

Oh gawd save me from the crazy in laws. My mouth is numb from fake smiling and my throat is sore from yelling into hearing aids.

They put stalls in the restroom so now 3 girls can pee in different toilet!

You'll be happy to know Stella just pooped on your neighbor's fence

There is/are an unnatural number of crows gathering in my apple orchard right now. I'm uncomfortable.

I'm still happy today that Rashida jones reminds you of me. Am i vapid and vain because of that?

But if anyone asks I'm gonna say it's real, obvi.

The Flatulance Gods must be getting back at me with your dog

I've had two martinis and a PBR in two hours. DRUIUUUUUNK!

That was for all the people that want me to get pregnant.

Mental connection make: Shakira sounds like the Target lady from SNL

Less than a minute ago I said, "I love toast."

Watching Toddlers and Tieras. What is WRONG with these people?!

Whatevs. Have fun eating NOTHING!

My life's quality is measured by whether or not i remember deodorant.

And isn't this a little more serious than  a TEXT?!

The prophets have spoken!

I meant OMG sarcastically not for reals, just to clarify.

That song that paula abdule sings w/the dancing animated cheetah is on the radio. Seriously?! Talk about a hostile wrk place.

Out on your crazy pants!

we just call it "driving"

When you guys are here we're forcing you to go help us pick out and cut down an Xmas tree! And drink cider and wear scarves! And LIKE IT!!!

How was jury duty? Did you wear your princess leia costume and tell them you were telepathic?

I'm headed into a recording studio to add my voice to some na na nas on the new mxpx Xmas song. Weird.

When you come visit we can have sing alongs!!!

Right. Your little black and white one with bulgy eyes.

We have a customer who introduces herself as "raven rain....also Cathy."

She's super random and kind of dorky like us- so if you can say something about pee or poo she'll bee your bff.

Ya but they're prob fat

That'd be a killer cupcake if it was all one!

Haha! shut up, you're super cute, even if you look kinda bi

How come in the prehistoric days all the animals were giant, but the humans were not?

I'm on a fantastic combo of midol and dayquil right now. Super lucky. 

I can totally wait. I just got flipped off by a homeless man.

You and I are finally going to have our FNL marathon. Jervis be praised.

I meant JEEBUS be praised.

But jervais can take some credit too, I guess...

only suitable for adults

My dear comrade, and first of thousands of roommates, Ashley (of the Northern California Ashleys) is also a blogger. And whence directed to her blog by its author (meaning her), i was greatly amused to find, before i could observe the blog, a warning from the good people at Google and Blogger. "The blog that you are about to view may contain content only suitable for adults," it declared. "In general, Google does not review nor do we endorse the content of this or any blog." i laughed. Of course Ashley's blog would come with a warning! i half-expected to also hear a husky-voiced man tell me intensely, "The blog you are about to view is rated BL MALVSC. It is intended for mature audiences only." (is it sad that i have that tv rating boiler plate language memorized? yes, a little. But i do watch a great deal of Rescue Me.) Having accepted the warning and perused the blog, i can't really figure out why it's only suitable for adults. i see very little of Ashley's usual colorful jargon, no mention of that one very adult word she taught me in 11th grade, and no dirty pictures. A simple 'holy $#i!' seems to be the extent of the adultry (a word i just made up, not to be confused with adultery), and i learned that word in 2nd grade (i ran out with a rough crowd).

Anyway, Ashley runs. i only run when i'm being chased, and even then i'm more inclined to either-

A. Curl up in a ball and hope to be killed/devoured quickly and mercifully, or

B. Do what no fictional chasee ever thinks to do, which is run like hell for a short distance, then hide like hell and wait for the chasers to run by before you double back and stroll, whistling, to safety. Seriously. i spend most of the Bourne movies (which i do love, btw. Call me, Damon.) thinking, 'if he just tucked himself away in a good spot he could easily evade the baddies.' Then i think, 'i would be happy to tuck away with him' but then we're veering all to closely into the aforementioned adultery.

Like music/food/literature/jesus, everyone has different tastes in exercise. i prefer to go to a gym and take a kickboxing class with 20 strangers and a psychotically peppy instructer. Ashley prefers to run long distances in public. That's her prerogative, which i happen to think is bananas. Sometimes she even PAYS for the privilege to get up at ungodly hours and run long distances in strange cities. She is perfectly welcome to do that, i happen to think she's Mentally Askew. In case i haven't made myself clear, i honor Ashley's choices, ridiculous and bass-akwards as they are. (here's where i admit that my 2nd favorite part of that cinematic gem, Talladega Nights, is Ricky Bobby saying 'with all due respect' and then saying something completely, baldly, disrespectful.)

Clearly, i am incapable of making a blog post about Ashley into anything other than a post about myself.

Ashley also teaches high school English. You can decide which is a more alarming and punishing habit to willingly undertake. She runs because she teaches, kind of like 'daddy drinks because you cry.' (i don't know where i saw/heard that but i can't even think of it without laughing out loud.) You could say, she blogs because she runs because she teaches. To be obnoxious to anyone masochistic enough to still be reading this post, i read because she blogs because she runs because she teaches. In the house that Jack built to catch the spider to catch the fly, alpha and omega, amen.

Her blog is about running and teaching and the highs and lows of both. Also, she's one of the most disciplined people i know, and has been since even before she taught me that one particular very bad word in 11th grade. She's also kind of a riot, so even if you are smart or chicken enough to not have gone into teaching, or if you're self-respecting enough to not do absurd things like Run Voluntarily, i do believe you'll enjoy yourself whilst reading her blog. Here it is. It's also in the list of 'Comrades' to the right. No, your other right.

an apology

In light of the ten year reunion, i made a preunion party playlist my pals and i could enjoy. i made the list out of the Billboard charts from the year of our graduation, 1999 and a little from 1998.

i spent the next week humiliated and apologetic.

i had forgotten or had never realized how excrutiatingly awful that time was in the world of music. This is me saying "I'M REALLY SORRY, WORLD, FOR THE MUSIC MY GENERATION INFLICTED UPON YOU." We punished you with the following diseases of sound:

Ricky Martin's 'Livin' La Vida Loca'
Sugar Ray's 'Every Morning'
Cher's 'Believe'
Smash Mouth's 'All Star'
Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'
LFO's 'Summer Girls'
Will Smith's 'Miami'
and of course...'Hit Me Baby One More Time' by Britney Spears.

Here's the thing about 1999: it was pre-myspace, pre-iTunes and, in a way, pre-internet. Very few of my friends even had email addresses, much less the savvy or resources to find any sort of music that wasn't in heavy rotation on the radio or on MTV...which was beginning its downward slide into 'TV not having anything to do with M'. And i don't think i need to explain how asinine the radio stations around here were. And are. "Indie band" wasn't in our vocabulary, and since we lived in Redding and not a bigger or more cultural town like LA, Sacramento or even Chico, there were no shows to attend. So, there were a few GOOD albums released in the waning years of the 90s, albums like Beck's 'Midnite Vultures', Jeff Buckley's 'Grace', and Sigur Ros's 'Ágætis byrjun', but we didn't hear them.
At the mainstream level, the late 90s were about the end of grunge and rock and the beginning of bubblegum pop, the boy band, and of course, the country cross-over (thanks a million, Shaniah Twain, still haven't forgiven you). There were a few gems that made their way to the masses, Lauryn's Hill's 'Miseducation' album had several great singles, the Chili Peppers put out 'Californication' and Tom Petty made 'Wildflowers', but overall it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time. We're sorry. If i give you Dave Grohl will you forgive? Here's one of the un-bad things to come out of 1999, the Foo Fighters with 'Learn to Fly', with a little Tenacious D thrown in for giggles.

Foo Fighters - Learn To Fly

Marco|MySpace Videos

screw 'em

i was born in 1981, so i was not alive for the 1980 Miracle on Ice at the Lake Placid Olympics. i saw the movie whilst on my honeymoon in Lake Tahoe and loved it; i'm a huge sucker for a sports movie, i think most people are. Kurt Russel's performance was fantastic. Here he is, as coach Herb Brooks, giving the speech before the game that made history:

Goosebumps! love the accent and clipped speech pattern and i watch it thinking, 'oooh i hope they wind their hockey game!' that's how easy it is for me to get caught up.

Anyway, this funny little kid grew up hearing about the Miracle on Ice from his dad and memorized the speech from the movie. It cracks me up! like, screw sponge bob! i wanna wear a tie a look like a hockey coach from 1980! He's only 4 in the video, so i'm pretty sure he's not even reading the paper in his hand. Check it out:

Good stuff! Here's the Yahoo story if you want more.

wobbly bits

This is my friend and once-upon-a-coliseum-roommate Erin, who looks very cute in this picture alongside a greenly-adorned scary lady who is about to try to eat your pet bird. (Man, am i glad that's not me! Can you imagine?? Gah!) Erin has brought herself into the blogosphere and the world of jewelry making. These forces combine like all good combining forces: into candy. Orrr a great blog. Roll the quotes:

These are the nonoffensive phrases my friends and family use to describe their wonder and amazement each time I lose my keys, forget some important event, or misplace a giant kitchen appliance (fine, it was a refrigerator, but I've only lost two in my lifetime).

Now I have to work my oxidizing nerve up all over again, and also buy more eggs.

Notice - I am NOT creating this blog for expert jewelry makers, or Pretty Good jewelry makers or EVEN Not Very Good but Still Managing to Sell that Junk jewelry makers.

These dangly bits are considered by me to be lovely adornments and should not be confused with 'wobbly bits', which generally refer to cellulite-prone body parts that are to be hidden under a sheet while getting dressed next to your sleeping lover.

For more on Erin and her lovely creations which will soon be in an Etsy store near you, visit http://makingprettythings.blogspot.com/

odds and ends

or, if we're speaking in Jeopardy categories, which we should be. always., "Potpourri."

We were awokended in the wee hours of the night/morning/i don't know because i can't read the clock without my contacts in by the ferocious growling of our dog all the way on the other end of the house. Now, Penny is a snorer and sometimes an active dreamer, but intense growling is not part of her nighttime routine. The doorbell, as it does for most dogs, exhibits a very dramatic reaction, as does the opening of the side-yard gate, arborists, little old ladies passing out Mormon magazines, and the occasional child walking home from school. Needless to say, she is territorial. So when growling to raise Beelzebub's goosebumps commences in the middle of the night, we naturally assume we're about to get: robbed, tied up, fed our own fingers and toes, and then hacked into pieces by a very bad baddie, in that order. Being the brave, modern woman i am, i sent my husband out in his underpants to investigate. It was worse than a bloodthirsty killer and all the more worthy of such a chilling growl of defense: it was a possum, smaller than our cat, moseying through the leaves. DANGER! We've done the possum dance before (it's nothing like the foxtrot) and haven't had an issue since. This was probably a rogue wanderer but he/she continued in the tradition of his/her forepossums by making sure we got no sleep. Once you're awoken (or awakened or wokeded up) with your life flashing before your eyes, it's hard to drift back to dreamland.

Second. i had jury duty today; i arrived at 8 and left at 4 and was not chosen to serve. i was the 5th person called to the box in the morning and was fully prepared to serve. In the end, the defense excused me and i'm pretty sure i know why. The potential jury was presented with a hypothetical situation by the defense. Say a police officer testified, 'it was night time,' and a civilian testified, 'it was day time,' and there was no physical evidence to corroborate either claim. Would you have a bias toward or against one of the testimonies? i raised my hand, in the complete assumption that there would be others in agreement. Mine was the lone hand. (cue tumbleweed) i was asked to explain, and i said that i would be more inclined to believe a police officer's testimony in the case of a 'he said/she said' situation. "Without knowing the background of either person?" the defense attorney asked, "simply because the police officer is a police officer?" Yes. A police officer's testimony is more credible to me, i said, because i trust the institution that installed that individual as a police officer. If the civilian's background included a similar level of credibility, then i would have to decide between the two testimonies or discard them both. But without backgrounds? Yeah, i'm going to go with the officer of the law. Do i think there are shady police out there? Yup. i also think there are moral mobsters. But i'm going to err on the side of the person sworn to uphold the law and trained to observe and assess situational details. The defense attorney posited my perspective to a few other jurors and their responses were along the lines of, 'Noooo! i wouldn't be biased, i would be fair and uphold the judicial laws of America, KALLIE.' It was really annoying and kind of surreal. i honestly didn't expect the rest of the jury to completely throw me under the bus. Here's the thing: from the time we're old enough to understand 'blue uniform' and 'badge', we're taught to unilaterally trust police officers, are we not? You get lost from mommy and daddy in the park? Find Officer Friendly and it will be okay! (And his cousin Firefighter Friendly is busy getting your kittycat out of the tree!) But now that you're an adult and paying taxes and dealing with things like the safety of your neighborhood, we want you to treat police officers like every John or Jane you ignored or were scared of in the park that day 30 years ago. Huh?? Whatever, Mr. Defense Attorney. You were shifty and in gross need of a haircut. And whatever, Other Potential CoJurors. You were all lying because you wanted to be picked for the Varsity Jury Team.

Third, Matt Damon is a brilliant actor. He really is. i can't wait to watch Good Will Hunting on the Turner Classic Movies channel with my grandchildren. Except by then tvs will be embedded in our fingers and our phones will be biologically programmed in our thumbs.

Fourth, we're going to see how long we can go before we turn on the heater this year. Place your bets.

Fifth, my favorite, favorite, favorite boots are on their farewell tour, since i've more than worn out the $13 i paid for them. They can't be worn in inclement weather, given the deteriorating soles. Get your tickets to the swan song.

rite of awkward

Dear Ten Year High School Reunion,

You were weird.

You declared ten years had passed and we, the graduating class of FHS in the year of our lord 1999, should therefore reunite, we who had little in common beyond sharing formative years in the institution determined by the state of California as the adequate option pertaining to the address our parents chose for their homesteads. 

When we last saw each other, we formed our bonds mostly immaturely: economic status, height-weight ratio, and clarity of complexion were all criteria alongside more trivial matters like disposition, interests and hobbies. So upon leaving high school and, for most, the homes and identities of our families, we forged our own identities and learned to make friends with like-minded people. Then for one night (or 3 days) you put us back in a room together and we all interacted on this foundation: once upon a time we were friends because we kinda dressed the same. Now, we may or may not have anything in common. That's awkward. It's fun too, but awkward. You're a strange system. 

Anyway, thanks for reminding me that The High School Boyfriend is totally overrated, that High School Popularity leads to cigarette smoking and conspicuous thinness, that my peeps were and are the best peeps, and that i really, really suck at small talk.

Sincerely,

Kallie

song #3

Oh baby, top 3. Here we go.

The number 3 song in my top 15 songymost songs is "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. i heard this song on the radio when i was living in San D and Whitney was savvy enough to know i needed the whole album. i love the guitar/drum intro of it and the beat in general is sublime. The lyrics, though minimal, are a little confusing if you don't the story behind the song. Karen O, the lead singer, wrote the song about/for her then-boyfriend Angus as he was leaving to go on tour with his band. According to internet lore, 'MAPS' is an acronym for 'My Angus Please Stay.' i like listening to it because it's so musical, but i LOVE the lyrics of the chorus: "Wait! they don't love you like i love you." It's so devoted and so desperate. The thing about being married to the spouse i have is that everyone adores him to the utmost, but i feel the same way about Josh as Karen felt about Angus. No matter how he's worshipped, none of 'them', the faceless fans, loves him like i love him. Here is the official music video, watch it! it's the 3rd best song ever. i promise.

Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Sesame Street goes Mad

"Good work, sycophants" has to be one of the best lines ever uttered by puppets.

questionable fences

We got a note from our neighbors in our mailbox today, asking us to please clean up our front yard asap as it is an eyesore. i'm pretty upset about it, mostly because i'm already embarrassed by the state of our yard on a daily basis and to have a stranger point it out only drives the point further. i'm also upset because there's very little we can do about how ugly it is. There's no sprinkler system to water what little grass there may or may not be from month to month, and we can't afford to put one in anyway. We're trying to make house payments and car payments and pay for the air conditioner that died, and in between those bills we eek out what few projects we can handle on the inside of the house. The front yard was in shambles when we purchased our home and will require a major overhaul to beautify it, as in, completely excavating it and rearranging everything. Until then, we have no desire or ability to dump a hundred dollars here and there into making it semi-presentable. If you know what our parents' yards look like you know what kind of standards we come from. Suffice it to say, we hate our yard too and no neighbor can possibly be more embarrassed by it than we are. We know ours is the ugliest house on the block and knowing that sucks. But we don't have a functional bath tub. And there's mold growing where the dog likes to lay all day. And there are portions of dirt floor. And there are areas where there's no real ceiling. And when it rains we have to come home from work to divert the deluge from flooding our living room. Not to mention less drastic but nonethless bothersome items, like the fact that if you're not careful, you'll hit your head on the sink when you're on the toilet, or the presence of cheap wood paneling where there should be insulation and dry wall, or the shower door with the fugly crane embossed on it. When they bought their home (the same time we bought ours) there was already grass and landscaping. When we bought ours, it was a wreck. The only thing growing at 1142 Walnut was the pot the previous owners were growing in the garage. That should give you an idea of the kind of upkeep that wasn't happening before we took possession. We do take pride in our home, but when our hands are tied, where is that pride supposed to go? It sucks.

Farewell, Vida Boheme

Patrick Swayze passed away, and i'm sad because there are only about 5 movies which i MUST watch every time they're playing on basic cable, and 'To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar' is at the top of that list. It's a silly, formulaic movie about three drag queens stranded in a tiny, small-minded town, but i love it, mostly because of the leading man. Patrick Swayze played Miss Vida Boheme, the 'drag-queen-with-the-heart-of-gold' who was best friends with Wesley Snipes' character, Noxeema Jackson, and maternal mentor to John Leguizamo's Chi Chi. i'm not an expert on drag queens, but i know enough to think he nailed the performance, which also nabbed him a Golden Globe nomination. As legend has it, he showed up for his audition in full drag and improvised a 30 minute monologue inspired by the bullying he endured as a kid taking ballet classes from his mom in Texas, and when Steven Spielberg watched the audition tape, he didn't even recognize Patrick. He'll mostly be remembered for his dancing, and i think it's a shame that he passed at a time when dancing is come back en vogue in mainstream pop culture, what with competitive dancing shows and musicals on tv and movies. i hope in his last years he was pleased with its resurgence. Anyway, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and i'll watch 'Too Wong Foo' a little wistfully from now on. 

There's something in the water...

...and it was put there by my mother.

i don't have a huge circle of friends/acquaintances. It's about half a dozen college pals and half a dozen family members and local pals. Out of that dozen, at this moment in history, THERE ARE 5 BABIES IN 4 WOMBS. By next summer, the population of my social circle will have increased by almost 50% and NOT by me going out and making new friends (which i suck at anyway). If you ever had an interest in learning to sew miniature clothing items, come over pick up a needle because i can't keep up with the demand.

masochism via Sydney Pollack

i need to remember that i have seen 'The Way We Were' enough and i don't need to watch it every time it's on TCM because it's two hours of 'ohhhhh, Robert Redford is heaven' and 'man am i glad i have straight hair' and 'i love Robert Redford' and 'i don't get the political references, but Robert Redford can politically reference me any time he wants' and 'why does Barbara Streisand wear her eyeliner like that?' and 'i don't think Brad Pitt would be anywhere near as famous if he didn't resemble Robert Redford so much' and 'yeah, marraige is complicated' and 'croquet sucks' and 'it's hard to drool over Robert Redford when your husband is watching' and so on and so forth until the end where Katie's all "Stay until the baby is born" and Hubble's all "You never quit" and the brushing of the hair off his forehead and that damn song in the background and it's JUST SO SAAAAAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

song 4

Now is the time for song 4 of my Top 15. This is 'Clark Gable' by The Postal Service, who share their lead singer, Ben Gibbard, with Death Cab for Cutie. i figured a Ben Gibbard song would fit in well on my Top 15 and i discarded several slower, more sentimental ones in favor of this gem. i like it because it's fun, romantic, pensive, frustrated and enthusiastic. And i'm a sucker for 'story songs'. And i like old movies. And back in the day my friends and i would make movies. So, it was kind of a no-brainer. The double clap makes it a fun car song and i love how there's a marker snap sound after he sings 'the marker snapped'. (i know, that sounds incredibly trite and unimaginative, but it still makes me smile.) Here is a fan video, enjoy!

honorific lane change

i've been debating about this post for a week or so, but someone said 'do it' and that's pretty much all it takes for me to be convinced of something. i'm going to address that oddball little American habit of putting custom vinyl decals on automobiles to memorialize individuals who have died. There are a few out there for Michael Jackson and more than a few for Dale Earnheardt, but i'm referring to the ones for non-famous, regular folk.

i hesitated to blog this because it will follow my rant about the One-A-Day ad and, further down the blogroll, my rant about the failure of people to speak proper English and i'm sure a hundred different rants in the archives. i do not want to be a Ranter. Such prestigious titles are already filled by talking heads and 'personalities' loyal to the Republican Party and i've learned that although squeaky wheels get grease, ranting wheels only get more angry. i do not want to be a Ranter, but i think my common theme is not that people are being stupid, but rather that they are either not following the line of logic or they're not taking the time to pay close attention to what they're saying/doing. It is in this spirit that i rant. Not to chastise, but to encourage everyone to pay attention and to follow the logic down the rabbit hole we call Life.

The more i think about it, this is a piggyback to all my usual language gripes. As a reader/editor/writer/goober, i have the misfortune of choosing the words i use and hearing exactly what words are said to me. Even when i'm casually talking with friends and family i can safely say that i mean probably 90% of the words i use. That may sound like a strange statement in that 'of course i meant it, i said it didn't i?' but i mean them exactly, in their definition, connotation, etc. This becomes a burden when i'm having an argument with someone because i'm not a yeller, i'm one of those that goes stealthy and then produces a precisely worded statement of feeling. The cheif problem is that while i mean exactly what i say, the person with whom i'm arguing may have a more emotional, less precise method or may have a more casual understanding of the language than i do. Yet i assume they mean exactly what they say. Troubles, i tell you. It makes for troubles. (My advice to the singles out there: marry someone who has the same arguing techniques as you.)

The decals. You've seen them. They usually say something like, 'In Loving Memory of John Smith, 1967-2009'. What then, is IN memory? The Ford Fusion? the Ford Fusion's rear window? The act of driving the Ford Fusion? 'Memorial' has two parts of speech, noun and adjective. As a noun it means 'something designed to preserve the memory of a person' and as an adjective it means 'preserving the memory of a person or thing; commemorative.' The Ford Fusion was not designed to preserve the memory of a person, it was designed to transport humans and their belongings along paved surfaces. A monument is designed to preserve the memory of a person, as is a tree planted in the person's honor. Putting a vinyl sticker on a car makes it no more a memorial than putting said sticker on your toaster.

So the stickers on the cars are thus adjectives of memorial; commemorating. Well, that's a loving gesture, but does it work??? Does a sticker on a car do anything to honor a lost loved one and what they did with their time on earth? or is it more about the car's owner than their loved one? Is it to say 'look at me! i'm grieving!'? i kind of feel like it's more about making other drivers feel sorry or sympathetic, and making the car's owner a worthy recipient of everyone's condolences. Before rotten tomatoes are thrown at the computer, let me say that i do not think people applying the decals are secretly cackling, rubbing their hands together and thinking, 'Now they will all love me for being the grieving parent/widow/sibling!' But i think love and grief are very complicated and the urge and pressure to grieve 'properly' (whatever that even means) makes people do seemingly strange things without following the logic along its course.

i think the loved one smiling down from heaven, or from their perch on a branch after they've been reincarnated as a squirrel, would rather the $20 be given to a charity than stuck on the window of an SUV. If it's about having the reminder of a loved one 24/7 then engrave a bracelet or tattoo your eyelids. Don't make it public. Don't make it about what you can afford to drive or how you drive it. That doesn't say anything about the injustice of your loss or the goodness of the one you lost. i may be insensitive, but that's not my intention; i'm just questioning whether the efforts are accomplishing their noble goal. i've never truly lost anyone so i can't fathom how logic even fits in to grief, but i'm guessing that wherever it does is for the better for everyone involved.

what year is it again??

i'm in the middle of cramming episodes of season 2 of one of my favorite shows, Mad Men, before season 3 commences on August 16th. For the unexposed, Mad Men is set in 1960s New York and follows a Manhattan advertising firm and the men and women involved therein. Gender politics is a chief plot point- husbands and wives, execs and secretaries, the glass ceiling, etc. Oh, and it's GENIUS writing and acting. And it's on AMC, not HBO, so if you have cable you can set your DVR.

So it was in this context that i viewed a commercial for One-A-Day vitamins. In particular, it was pushing the One-A-Day vitamins for teens. (they have different vitamins specially formulated for the needs of women (bone strength/breast health), the needs of men (heart health, blood pressure), expectant mothers, etc) The teen vitamins are different for boys and girls. For boys, it promotes muscle function. For girls? Healthy skin.

i immediately felt like the One-A-Day ad was written by the knuckle dragging ad men of 1960.

Why are adolescent boys assumed to need muscle strength for strenuous activity and adolescent girls are assumed to need healthy skin to look pretty? i seem to remember my female friends being warriors when we were teenagers- playing as many school sports as they could and snowboarding and wakeboarding on the weekends. i also remember a fair amount of my male friends having some pretty gnarly acne, and even a few that could've cared less if they had a varsity letter on their class ring.

What the hell, One-A-Day? Have females not progressed any further in the last 49 years than to care only about looking cute while the males do all the working and playing? And, for their part, are males not allowed to care about what they look like? Aren't they allowed to progress beyond being the jock?

To quote a badass lady: "Blerg." One-A-Day can count me out of its customer base until it can catch up to the current calendar year.

song 5

Oh boy, poodles, we're in the top 5! (i can feel your excitement.) Here's a recap of songs 6-15:

6. Heart of the Matter, India.Arie
7. Mo Ve' la Bella Mia da la Muntagna, Matteo Salvatore
8. Walk Away, Ben Harper
9. Square One, Tom Petty
10. This Year's Love, David Grey
11. Georgia On My Mind, Ray Charles
12. Use Somebody, Kings of Leon
13. Cello Suite No. 1, Yo Yo Ma
14. Motorcycle Drive By, Third Eye Blind
15. Feelin Good, Nina Simone

We're going to Georgia again, but not in our minds this time. No, we're taking the midnight train AND we're bringing the Pips! This Gladys Knight gem wasn't in the original Top 15 i made in January, but the more i listened to it, the more i realized i really truly loved it. The song strikes a balance between heartbreak and sweet devotion: the heartbreak of the man whose dreams refused to come true and the alienation of being a simple southern boy living in the nightmare that is Los Angeles, and on the other side the commitment of the woman who loves him so much she'll follow him to Georgia because she'd "rather live in his world than live without him in [hers]." It's also two songs in one: You have Gladys singing the main lyrics, and the Pips singing a very advanced version of back-up lyrics. You can pick which song you want to sing and it makes for a really fun one to sing with someone else. And how many songs include a harmonized train whistle "whoo whoo!"?? NOT ENOUGH, if you ask me. Here's a good version, but doesn't feature the Pips' sweet background dance moves, so if you need those you can find the other YouTube versions. Enjoy song 5, "Midnight Train to Georgia" by Gladys Knight and the Pips.

musings on expectation

When you're 18 years old the law says, 'We trust you to handle cigarettes responsibly but not alcohol.' The United States says, 'Here, help us choose our government's leaders, but you cannot rent a car, even though we gave you a driver's license 2 years ago.' Society says, 'Okay now, you've lived roughly 1/4th of your life, now you must decide what you're going to do with the remaining 3/4ths,' and it sends you to college and tells you to pick the right course of study because that will determine your career and how you'll fit in with everyone else for the next half century.

Tell me, those of you who have children: is the 7 or 10 or 12 year old anything like the 1 year old? The personality might be the same, but i imagine there are distinct differences. How is an 18 or 20 year old to know any more about his 60 year old self that your toddler will now about his middle school self? And yet....and yet.

Strangers and acquaintances remark about my bachelor's degrees being in Literature and Theology and how they surely are not serving me now. To some extent, my education is thus perceived as 'wasted' or, more kindly, 'misdirected.' For most of the last 5 post-undergraduate years i have bought into this method of thinking, but not so much any more.

When i was 18 my passion was for writing and literature and i had at my disposal professionals highly trained in developing my skills for appreciating such things. That i made the decision to accept this training and not training in something more 'marketable' but surely less palatable like Journalism or Organizational Administration somehow makes me a 'directionless dreamer'. (i admire those who have passion about administrating and organizing, mostly because i'm incapable of either.) By studying that which i was passionate about, i ensured i would retain such passion for many years to come, if not the rest of my life, and that passion would bring me happiness. (Simplistic? Sure.) When i was 20 i developed a thirst for answers about God and added another course of study that would provide insight and direction for my journey. That i didn't become a pastor, theologian or even learn one of the biblical languages doesn't mean it was a waste of my time, money and energies and the time and energies of my teachers. It means i learned all i could while the learning was there for the taking. Why is such an attitude not celebrated? Simply because you can't draw a straight line from my diploma to my pay stub? (Defensive? Indeed.)

Many are certain at 18 about what they want to do at 50. They choose study and training for that purpose, whether it be their chief passion or not, and if not, they make time for their passions. i envy them on a very, VERY regular basis.

Yes, i'm frustrated that i'm perceived as 'lost' or 'unmotivated' or 'lacking identity.' Though, a great deal of the time i genuinely feel i am all of those things. But i don't regret my degrees. My education has served me well in ways that can't be measured on business cards or tax returns. That i'm not set and pointed for the next 2/3rds of my life are at times terrifying and liberating. i have friends who made all the 'right' educational moves and accompanying career moves and now loathe it all. (others still love it all) i'm fairly certain that had i made more 'practical' choices in college i would be one of those punch-drunk young professionals who hate their jobs AND the educations that put them there. i at least only hate my job, and since it's only a job and not a career representing the last ten years/one-third of my life, i don't have to hate myself or my life either. When i had an impressive job with office and title, i realized i valued it more for how it sounded than for what it was or what it provided to my mind. (and it didn't have that much to do with my b.a. degrees anyway)

All this to say, yes, i am metaphorically wandering around right now. i don't love wandering, but it sure beats standing on one of those moving walkways. Hopefully soon i will have a more precise direction in which to wander. When all is said and done i will at least have left an interesting trail.

texties, part zillion

(these are texts in my phone's inbox, transcribed exactly (except the swears, because i have to have principles or something))

nuthing but bud for me! there's a reason it's called the king of beers!

Ah yes, the bremerton to redding light rail. First thing on obama's agenda.

peanut butter on the other end of the cuetip

Barf. I only eat healthy fast food.

I smell like a high schooler - cologne, gum and hormones.

Is it at mother 10?

Mr halfblood prince, I AM happy to see you. And, yes, that IS a wand in my pocket.

F*&% yeah, gonna save the mothaeffin day yeah

The colored ones make me think of skittles. Mmm skittles

Comin to save the mutha f*&%in day yeah!

Kevin has nipples??!!

Wine and tv?

Samudra has captured the gay demographic of Bremerton! There's no way we can fail now!

What time is the potty?

Oh i get it! Yum was waiting for us at home!

he needs more wallabies though!

You mean babysitting? That's what the bar is for.

we were talking seattle restaurants w/the cashier @ TJ's & this old lady behind us goes " we have a great resaurant here called applebees. but go before 11!"

a BABY BEAR sucking on jimmy fallons arm! my day is complete.

The JW's just pulled up in front of my house knocked on my door, which i didn't open, and then drove off. They are sniping MY house!

She's naming the baby Sara Conchita!! LOL!

Raise your hand if your new ob/gyn looks and sounds like philip seymore hofman!

I want spock. ;)

Welcome to 530. Does this mean you've officially given up on the elk grove dream?

Hi there. This is a test to see he my phone is legit or has quit.

Just eating them will be ready.

1 thing you don't want to see while enjoying a burrito outside your fav mexican place: a guy walk by w/an ankle monitor on. Oh Oroville, you never stop do you?

Throw some water on that guy and see if he squeaks like a dolphin?

Every time i time i think about cosmo being 'totally happy but f*&%ing angry' i laugh out loud!

Why is michael bay still allowed to make movies????

Crying maybe. Not really sure.

happy mothers day o fellow childless one! let us celebrate our hot bodies, full 8 hr nights of sleep and ability to enjoy alcohol. :)

not even joking, i have a blister from using the dyson

Do monks eat only rice and beans?

So many inappropriate responses come to mind. I'll save us the awkwardness and just send this as is.

"hot meat". i'm snickering to myself.

Are you choppin balls at the winery today?

is there such thing as blonde emo kids?

Yeah! Bitch pleez!

Bah Amy Lidell emailer me asking if I wan to help with the reunion. Grumble.

How ironic that the girl that doesn't 'beer' is writing this but here goes: bees night tonight.

Stimple's donkey - Willie Brown?

Get off my business.

i just saw a robin running really fast on the side of the road. like, REALLY fast. he must have forgotten that HE HAS WINGS.

why is it so effing impossible to find a decent purse???

oprah is without a doubt the Official Queen of the Backdoor Brag.

Are you ready to see desmond beat the sh!t out of ben? Cuz it's AWESOME.

just give in to the albanator. you know you want to.

Quailhawk.

I'm at the office eating soup! I love eating!

she loves pie. she mentions it four times.

oh it was. youre freaking hilarious markle. i'm lizzing as we speak. HILARIOUS.

i think i may be a lezzie for michelle obama.

jason cut his hair pretty short yesterday, and his 9 year old patient just asked him "what happened to your head?" hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Let your Kallie be your guide.

I had a dream that you ate my whole package of milano cookies. And you weren't even sorry! You just said, "what? I needed i snack."

your killing my flow! full scale!

Pilsbury just reminded me that i want warm fresh backed crossants. DAMM THEM.

Did you hear that? I think it was my poor wittle heart bwaking :(

language gripes

i just saw an ad for a movie called Defiance, boasting that it is 'based on the untold true story.' Call me crazy, but if the story is untold then how do you know to make a movie about it? And wouldn't the movie then TELL the story?

There's an ad for NutriSystem running these days where a customer happily exclaims that "each meal is better than the next!!" i'm pretty sure that would mean each successive meal would get worse and worse until they were flash frozen dishes of poo.

Who is greenlighting these million dollar ad campaigns??

written between craft time and bum-licking

Dear Lyn and Jesse,
Hi! How are you? i am great. i hope you are having fun in Canada and in California's northern neighborstates.

Summer camp at Camp Luvamarkle is really fun. My friend Penny goes to the same camp! We play Noisy Wrestlemania whenever we are not taking naps or discussing the G8 conference. There are many places to nap: the rug, the carpet, the bricks, the dirt, my bed, Penny's bed, the couch, the other couch and the window seat. Mostly i nap in the giant window seat because it inflates my sense of self-importance and passersby are led to believe i am the establishment's owner.

There is another animal attending Camp Luvamarkle. i'm told it is a "cat" but the camp directors call it "Suchajerk" or "Seriouslycosmo????" It looks very strange and makes terrifying noises and whenever i hear it or see it my mind goes blank and my feet start moving. i suspect "cat" is another word for "siren demon". Penny helps me chase Suchajerk Seriouslycosmo and it all gets very exciting until the camp directors get out of bed and snap at us and say "Good lord does it EVER get old????". i'm hoping to catch him by the end of the week and when i do i will teach him how to dance around on his back like i like to do. Camp Director Kallie will not let Suchajerk Seriouslycosmo leave camp during the day this week because she says he probably won't ever come back. Camp Director Josh asked why that would be a problem and Camp Director Kallie threw a flip flop at him.

Today we went on a daytrip to Baker Park. i found several stinky grass-patches to roll around in and Penny chased lizards in the mud. Camp Director Kallie pushed Penny in the pool to clean the mud off and Counselor Ashley helped Penny swim to the side and climb out. i was very excited the whole time and i helped Penny dry off by stealing the dino chewy and running away as fast as i could. Park Ranger Sherrie wanted to know why Camp Director Kallie had to push Penny in the pool and get the pool all muddy and couldn't she just hose Penny off?? Camp Director Kallie said it honored the scientists who invented chlorine and pool sweepers to create muddy pool water AND it sharpened Penny's raw survival skills. Park Ranger Sherrie was otherwise very nice and said i was "a good little dog." i ate alot of grass and Camp Director Kallie thanked me for it when i lit up her car with grass farts the whole way back to camp. i tried to say "You're welcome" but it turns out i was not supposed to climb on the steering wheel.

Every day after Nap 23, Penny and i catch up on the Sotamayor confirmation hearings, then we take laps around the pavilion. Then we nap again. Some religious zealots came to the camp door and invited us to a special conference in San Francisco. We barked at them, saying "Your commitment is admirable but we are otherwise religiously inclined canines!! Thank you anyway!! Please take us dogs off your contact list because we are unlikely to convert to your spiritual path and it would be futile to use your time and energy to further evangelize us!! Have a nice day!!!" i think they appreciated our polite forthrightness.

Well, The Colbert Report is almost over so Camp Director Kallie will want the Macbook back. It's time to go dance on my back for a while and then take nap 56 before Penny and i have our evening tie-breaker Noisy Wrestlemania match.

Thanks for sending me to camp- as you can see i'm having a really good time. i miss you though! Come home soon!

Love,
Stella Bea

song 6

Before it was the background to primetime TV montages of people looking angsty in elevators, before it was in the 'Sex and the City' movie trailer, before a n y o n e e l s e, i loved this song. i discovered it on a blog post somewhere on the internets, probably 3 years ago? i'm not sure. i was totally smitten because, A. i grew up listening to the Eagles and ganked my dad's Hell Freezes Over album and knew every word by heart while the rest of the kids my age were like 'yeaaaah! Weezer and stuff!!!' and B. i'm kind of a sucker for a good cover. As covers go, this one takes the cake. Oh, and C. this lady is great.

It is India Arie covering Don Henley's classic heartache-redemption muser, 'Heart of the Matter'. She gives it a soul beat and a little more musicality because let's face it, her voice is better. (Don't hate, even The Don told India he likes her version better.) She keeps what works, the background vocals, harmonies, etc, but makes it distinctly her own. These are the criteria for a good cover, students. Learn.

Anyway, i love this song. It's wise, sad, universal, and great to sing along with, whether you prefer the Eagles or India. i'm a little bummed that there's now a whole generation of people who think India Arie wrote this song, but we can only hope to educate. i couldn't find a proper video for it (since the music video is going the way of the do-do it's getting quite difficult) but you can listen to the track HERE or just trust me and go buy it on iTunes.

we had a baby

The first harvest from our humble veggie garden. Josh named it Curtis.

show, don't tell

i've started this post several times but it never seems adequate to the task. Instead of a coherent travelogue you're going to get snippets and impressions and you'll just have to match them up with the pictures and your own imagination. The crux: annual camping trip to Patrick's Point with Pete and the Rostens, plus newcomers Saucy Stella and Chatty Matt.
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i made a silly playlist. It had Michael Jackson and Cookie Monster and Journey and many many Coldplay songs. 'Viva La Vida' came on right as we reached the last, best Vista Point en route and so we said 'okay universe' and stopped to viva.

Our site was right: backdoor path to the crest trail and the iron ocean and striped sky, hidden from the circling rangers with their rules and the middle-aged crunchers with their matching jumpsuits, close to bathroom, trash and potable faucet of potability. "Do you know the difference between a cactus and a corvette?" i think the forest giggled. Pete slept with Big Agnes every night.

A ladder on a hill, tidepools. Sky: grey, rocks: grey, creatures: red white purple orange. Lives and civilizations under foot, generations of microscopics. A cave! if we had a wand we would have searched for the horcrux. 'Don't worry Harry, don't worry Albus, we took care of it already. Go back to Hogwarts and live long, full lives.' Josh found someone's sweatshirt and stowed it away. How very Josh. Climb back up the ladder, climb climb climb. Strip off layers, kick rocks.
'Sister's my new mother now, mother!' Chips, soup, cheese, Catan.

Everything is mossy and grey and eerie and patient. The walking trails are dinosaur movies. It's all pure and primal and it blinks and turns its head away when the tiny, tiny humans walk through with their clicking boxes and sharp voices. Stella doesn't relax, she is an animal in the animals' land and feels more dog blood in her veins than ever. She alone can protect us from the raptors.

The waves breathe in sand and exhale mist and the birds sing strange songs with more notes than science can explain. There is only green and brown and grey until the tree with pink flowers appears with its big blossoms and then shrinks back into the lush, only to appear around the next corner.




We talk of God and not-God. The fire is too low. We talk of reason and affection and faith and not-faith. The Muddy Buddies make circles of their own volition. i play movie games in my head. 'Brendan Fraser was in Crash with Terrence Howard who was in Hustle and Flow with Taraji Henson who was in Benjamin Button with Cate Blanchett who was in the awful Elizabeth sequel with Clive Owen who was in The Bourne Identity with Matt Damon who was in School Ties with Brendan Fraser who was in Crash with Don Cheadle who was...'
At Lost Coast Brewery they lie to us and then pass us over. We wonder why brew food makes us suffer the things we suffer. Waiting. Vowing to make new traditions next year. Starving. Thinking of a year ago and a Joker vs Gotham. Waiting. Finally sitting. Waiting. Exercising our powers as consumer diners. Turkey sandwich and Great White. Lovely golden Great White. Like water, only beer. Driving in the not-quite-rain. "Lyn was named Princess Of Verbosity," said the verbose one. 50mph is so unbearable.

Luffenholtz, i love you. In 5 or 4 or 3 or 2 years you will either be utterly unreachable or there will be a fancy road and a fancy parking lot and you will be developed and crowded and whitewashed and neon and you will say 'don't look at me' and it will be something more than tragic but nothing less than unsurprising. But you're not yet. You're still hidden and just barely accessible and precarious and rocky and a permanent embrace, high or low tide. You are foreboding and morose but calm and pure. Your sand is in my teeth and it tastes like peppers and apples. Your textures are sharp, gritty and cold and i eat warm food with skins and juices. i validate you by seeking heat against your cold.

Ranger: "That wouldn't happen to be a service dog, would it?" He was too young, too interested in his coworker to believe in law and in order.
Me: "Nope." i didn't say that she also didn't 'happen' to be my dog.

i am alternately hushed and thrilled. i'm like a child unsure of which instinct to trust: my excitement or my reverence. The reverence begets the excitement. i have years of this salt in my lungs, years of moss and sand in the treads of shoes both long since disposed of and under the bed. i have years to go before i sleep.