Winkin Blinkin and Blog

Chairoscuro

2011-09-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

It's me again, I've been off on another Bilbo Baggins self reflecting journey again. And several thoughts came to mind.

I went home for Labor Day....and it truly was a Labor Day, Mommy Dearest had included a "Work Day" on her itinerary for the weekend. Let's not forget my older brother and his family were out from NJ, (they only come out once a year) and she had us mending fences, painting fences, finishing deck stairs and my personal hell, cleaning out the QVC room.

Ever watch Hoarders? Yah, it was like that. While my mom is able to keep the hoarding to a few rooms...so far....the behaviors are EXACTLY the same. She kept bags, and when I tried throwing them out, she'd find a reason to keep them. Any bags or garbage she had to go through to make sure we were not throwing anything out important, and yes, she would drag out at least 1/3 of the crap and put it in the keep pile. I know anything I put in the garage sale pile will later find itself back in the QVC room. Now I will say, at least it was not piles of old newspapers, adult diapers and old food, but she had boxes and boxes of unopened stuff she had ordered on QVC, hence the room name. Anyway, I did notice that everyone had mysteriously taken the "I'd rather stand outside in 95 degree heat and paint a fence or dig a post hole in concrete with a spork" options as opposed to digging out the QVC room with mom.

Self reflection #1: This is the reason I don't put value on stuff...it may also be the reason I don't put value on people. Living in a home where stuff and money was more important than the occupants, how does one ever learn the value of treasuring other people? Hence two previous marriages and my overall disconnect from most people.

The grands kids have a love hate relationship with mom, and so do her own children for that matter. When I first arrived 10 seconds in the door, it was, "Don't tell Heidi (my little bro's ex wife with whom he as 2 children) anything. She doesn't deserve to be part of this family. You need to back me up on this!" to crying "I loved your ex husbands and Heidi, they are like my own children, I have done so much for them!! I don't understand why they don't like me!!" on the last day I was there. And the rest of the time was spent watching Nana disciplining the grand kids "out of love". And when they started to ignore her, she started to send ME....yes ME...out to yell at them for climbing up the wrong way on the slide. Which of course I didn't do and it made her more mad. As I watched I wondered what kind of thoughts and feelings these kids will have toward her as they get older. Will they remember her with fondness or will it be "Thank God she's gone?" I truly don't know.

Self reflection #2: Sometimes in a dreamy state of wine or half asleep, I wonder if I self sealed my uterus shut. Was that childhood sucking sound my womb drawing closed as I contemplated the idea of being a mom? Perhaps I had extraordinary foresight to see that 1) Either I would end up exactly like her or 2) I would never want to subject my children to a unhappy, unfulfilled, controlling Nana like her. And as a self preserving, "I don't want to get stuck in the middle anymore" move I willed my eggs to dry up at an early age. Who knows.

Work again. This is my constant never ending monkey on my back. I swear I will not succumb to complaining, being petty and picking things apart, as is my example in the office, and true to form I get sucked back in. Next thing you know, I'm down on my knees in the shag carpet looking for that proverbial needle of self, complaining the entire time. And damn me if I don't come up shamed-faced and ragged every time blaming myself. However, after thinking I was the most ineffective, useless student advisor in the world I found some vindication last night. I was asked to advise the Art Club so I attended their meeting. And I'll be dipped if it wasn't just a simple nice meeting, with nice kids and not a drama queen or stew stirrer in sight. They talked respectfully to each other, they listened, they redirected their thoughts politely, they talked about how to give constructive criticism in a supportive way, they were organized, willing and more than grateful to have an experienced advisor that was willing to come to their meetings and get to know them. Wow.

Self reflection 3#: Sooo, maybe it's not me. Maybe I'm not the ass biscuit advisor. The students in our center are hit with so many mixed messages...be strong, stand up, shout out,...but do it dressed as a professional, with good table manners and don't make a scene while doing it. This naturally sets them against themselves and eventually each other. And yes, we do need to acknowledge that these kids come with cultural baggage, they grew up knowing they had to fight because of the color of their skin or their backgrounds,but that issue of respect can overlay that, helping them to focus and get along. But that is not the example given here with certain interactions with our staff. So now to try and work around that. That's the task anyway, the self reflection part is that I don't suck and it's not something I'm solely responsible for. However, I am responsible for my own reactions, and this self effacing negativity demon on my back has got to go. I'm sure I can trace that back to mom somehow too.

Overall, I need to stop fading myself into the background. I need to really start connecting again with people, my art, I deserve to have a life. I also deserved to have children. This sounds wacky, but digging deeper, I may not have thought that I did, and the reality is that biologically this would not be reflected, I have honest problems with my girl bits, but that may have played into my foster parenting and adopting issues (besides the money part). And lastly, instead of hoping for someone else to be or build that wall of respect at work, I can do that too.

This process of growing up never ends, and for me the habit of always looking for parts of me to improve will never end either. Now, I'm not looking for perfection, I'm just looking for a little peace. Perfection asks too much of me, but Peace? Well, now that one I think I can manage.

I'm Feeling Sucktastic, Thank You Very Much

2011-07-13T08:17:00.000-07:00

Well, let's see. It's been awhile. The dieting craze that was a magnesium flash in our office, has died down thankfully. I have been enjoying a quiet peaceful July for the most part. Oh, the reception. Had a spectacular time and no, I didn't ask about buying babies, but the small, mentally abused 5 year old in me just had to appease my mom in some shape and form, so I did ask what was the Philippine Govt. stance on adoption.

Do you remember that scene in Lord of the Rings where Bilbo wants his ring back and he goes all demon on Frodo's ass? Well, the reaction was akin to that. I could have combed a horsetail with the bristles that rose on the Representatives back. She went on and on about what a shame and embarrassment it was to the country that they could not support their own children. That US creates the largest demand that resultes in a high percentage of children being put in the adoption system under questionable circumstances and the loss of culture for these children was devastating for them. They would much rather talk about issues of human trafficking which is illegal, than the hidden hush hush world of "legal trafficking" via adoption.

Of course you know I happily took this back to Mommy Dearest, to which she replied, "Well, first of all, that should make you so thankful we pulled you out of there, because you would be digging in the garbage with all those other kids, you do know that don't you? Don't they see that if it weren't for us adopting their kids they would never have the life you are living now? You would not be happy! Well, if they don't want their kids adopted, then maybe they shouldn't have so many, but they do and you should be given at least one of them. Your Filipino, not American, isn't it better one of their babies goes to a Filipino mom who just happens to live in the US? Besides, she probably doesn't realize that a lot of Filipino women leave the country to go to Saudi Arabia to have their babies. They have a lot of rich oil people there."

"Ma, they end up in Saudi Arabia because they are being trafficked in. They are there to scrub toilets not pop out their babies."

"Well, whatever. It's a shame your Representative woman could not help you. She's probably Al Queda like I said."

And that was that.

Or so I thought.

Five minutes later she called back and asked....

"So how about one of those South American Mexican babies? (All things Hispanic are Mexican to her) They're brown and there have been a lot of earthquakes down there. I'll be a lot of those kids need new homes."

Let's just say in my sucktastic adopted, infertile life, there are few times when I have the desire to rip out my useless uterus and beat someone with it.

This was just one of those times...

Don't Quote Me

2011-06-22T09:53:00.000-07:00

There are always things that we say around our house that have no business falling out of our mouths...that's one of the single joys of not having kids. Periodically I post these, no reason...just another prime example of how crazy and strange we truly are, and why we don't socialize much. There is a definite 5 second rule of listening in our house before you come to any conclusions.

"Do...not....plop your penis in my prayerbook Mister!"
(relax, it was a p-shape turnip he was showing me and was going to drop it on my Jewish book)

(While watching So you think you can Dance) Koiboy, "Sooo, they sure put all their stuff out there for people to see. They got nipple tape, do you suppose they have camel toe tape."..... Me: "Cripes, can you imagine ripping that off?"

"Just because your trying to pull a mind f***, doesn't mean I'm going to to have a mindgasm...I'm a woman, I can totally fake those."

"Oh please, even if you and I were to combine our wonder twin powers, there would not be enough energy to power those blinky kids shoes. That's how tired we are"

Sooo I guess that was kind of like anointing the house with the Kama sutra oil someone gave us for our honeymoon, it totally didn't work. What!?!?! It was the only oil I could find!!!! I was desperate!!

"She could not coordinate a rape in a prison shower if she tried!" (honestly I borrowed this one, but I only use it when I'm really mad.....and you won't like me when I'm mad.)

"No no. You go on. I'd like to sit here for a while with my bestie, Stockholm Syndrome. It's been awhile, we have a lot to catch up on. I'll see you later."

"No one uses it, I believe that our lactation station is in fact where the booby train resides. Koiboy likes to refer to it as Nipplegate."

Yes, it's been that kind of month. A little crazy mixed in with a whole lotta Homer Odyssey; tragic comedy. I'm serious about the Stockholm Syndrome. I've always seen it in action, but never been a victim of it before. When I found myself making excuses to sympathize with this person I had to put the breaks on full, back the stupid bus up and turn the hell around. I think I'm back on track with a better attitude. However, I do feel I'm better balanced for the semesters ahead.

“Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, you ought to set up a life you don’t need to escape from.”

Amen to that.

Summertime and the Livin' is Easy

2011-06-14T11:29:00.000-07:00

Rarely do I complain about ACTUAL events at work, esp. office people because that can come around and bite you on the butt. However, I will make an exception, just this once because I'm going crazy. Here's something for you all to note......do not ever work in an office where all the females are dieting. Not just dieting, but taking HCG to diet. Ever "fact reliable Wiki" states that the majority of HCG is derived from pregnant women's urine, only one by genetic modification. Ewww. Apparently, (now don't be getting any ideas about taking this stuff) this pregnancy hormone tricks your body into thinking it's pregnant and you start burning your fat for energy...or something like that, coupled with an appetite suppressant, and a 500 calorie diet, voila..the pounds shed off like a pig on a greased log. But...it's still pee!! Ewww.

First of all, "WHAT PREGNANT WOMAN SELLS HER PEE!?!?" Is there some sort of black market out there with a person running around with pee cups strapped inside their trench coat, "psssting" pregnant women into dark alleys to make a deal?

Let's just ignore the fact that if ANYONE suddenly drops to a 500 caloric intake a day diet any weight would be lost...pee free. But let me tell you, anyone who suddenly takes that drop can be hard to deal with!!! They go on for a few weeks, go off for a week, (cake appears in the fridge again) and back on for a few weeks. There are days I just want to leave a trail of Doritos wherever I go just so they would eat and be sane. So as you can guess, this week is a back on week. They go back and forth from the kitchen and just stand there and stare like they are hoping that empty calorie food will materialize, and when it doesn't they sigh, grab their apple slices and talk about how hungry they are, but hey they lost five pounds!! They keep trying to get me to join them, a) implying I need to diet...*ahem... and b) it's totally safe for diabetics...NOT. It would be so hard to control your blood sugar on 500 calories a day. So I smile and say no thanks, as I lean back and take a bite out of my sandwich. Is it rude to talk with your mouth full?

Oh, and part three on our residential burglar, he skipped the arraignment and now there is a bench warrant for his arrest with bail for 10,000.00. So he's out there still. We totally found him on facebook, and he's out of reach from the long arm of the law in Idaho, just 7 miles away, facebooking about how bored he is. The cops said I could send a request to the prosecuting attorney to see what the jurisdiction is on the warrant and request it be extended to include ID so he can be extradited back to our little town. I'm thinking about it. It just kind of torks my shorts that he comes into our lives, upsets things and is "Totally bored today" 7 miles away.

On the upside we did get out camping. It rained the first night. Hard. We forgot the air mattress so Koiboy had to drive 45 min. to big K in the Dalles to get one just as they were closing, because there was no way we were going to sleep our old bones on the ground. We also bought this huge screen tent to hang out in, but had never put it up before. Picture the two most uncampy type of people, trying to put up a screen tent in the dark with rain pouring down. Did you not think a few choice words were exchanged? They are lucky they didn't find our bodies hanging from the trees wrapped in mosquito netting the next morning, swinging back and forth trying to get at each other. I did however find a love for percolated coffee over the fire.

And in the tradition of be a totally stupor hero dork wad, somehow I had obtained two huge long bruises across the top part of my wrists. I think it was from carrying heavy loads in bags across my wrists. Anyway, it looks like Koiboy has been grabbing me or that he needs to reupholster his love cuffs. At any rate, it was warranted a lot of concerned looks for me, evil looks for Koiboy or some "right on" thumbs up from other questionable characters. After two weeks they are finally beginning to fade.

So as you can see, between the pee dieting, channeling the doghunter and shuffling behind my husband looking downtrodden in the stores with my bruises just to annoy him, it's shaping up to be a pretty fun summer. Wooo-peeeeee!! (No pun intended)

Asking-Stance

2011-05-24T08:32:00.000-07:00

I was invited to a reception by my friend, Velma Veloria. She's the first Filipina elected to a state legislature in the US. She worked on legislation for anti trafficking laws and WA became the first state to make trafficking illegal. Even retired, she continues to work closely with non profits to stop human trafficking, hence the reception for former Filipino congresswoman Risa Hontiveros, who is a house representative from an activist based political party in the Philippines. Risa has made it her life's work to pursue bills for the protection of women, their rights, reproductive rights, anti prostitution bills and gender balance bills. Basically a room full of women against trafficking humans.

Me: "Yeah mom, I think this will be a great opportunity to meet some amazing people from the PI. *Philippines Islands
Mom: "Is she Al Qaeda?"
Me: "Uh, no."
Mom: "Are you sure? You know they have a bunch of Muslims in that country. They all left after Bin Laden was killed and went to the PI, you can't be too careful."
Me: "Uh the reception is in Seattle. Even if she's Al Qaeda, I'm pretty sure they will not let her security detail in the country." (Note to self here: DON'T POKE A SLEEPING TIGER"
Mom: "Oh, so your not sure?"
Me: "Ma, I'm kidding. She works on women's right issues, human trafficking things like that. I don't think Al Qaeda has a feminist sector. In fact I'm pretty sure they don't."
Mom: "So your positive. And I don't suggest you tell her that your adopted. She may have the power to make you go back to the PI."
Me: "Uh, Seriously? I highly doubt that." (Note to self: Hmm...so is there something in my abduction...er I mean adoption that she's worried about?)

[For those that don't know, when my dad was in the PI as a pilot during the Vietnam War, my mom came with him to live off base with my older brother. She ran a house load of servant girls. There has always been a mystery of my origins, different and conflicting stories. It's like she went out shopping and came home with a baby. I do have papers that attest to them being interviewed by the Philippine Social Services and releasing me to them. On paper it looks legit. But it was war, there was a rescuing mentality (Operation Baby Lift) in the US and people were known for going around, talking parents out of their children.]

Mom: "Well if you think she's safe, maybe you can ask her if she knows of any Filipino babies that need parents. Ask for twins."
Me: "Ma, I cannot go into a reception for women against child trafficking and ask it anyone has babies for sale."
Mom. "It's not like they will pull one out of their pocket and you pay for it right there. They may know some poor Filipina girl who can't take care of her twins. And if they ask, they may get one for real cheap. They would know how to negotiate that sort of thing."
Me:" I'm not asking."
Mom: "I think you should. Promise me."
Me: "No"
Mom: "This could be your last chance! Ask. And don't for get to ask for twins."
Me: "No"
Mom" "Ask my child and you shall receive."
Me: "No."
Mom: "Ask young lady."
Me "No."
Mom: "Ask"
Me: "Fine. I'll think about it. Dinner's ready, got to go."

Of course I'm not going to ask. But cheeze whiz on a cracker, she just doesn't give up and doesn't get it. Let's forget about that fact that having the "I want your grand kids" and "You can still have a baby!! Evie's daughter just adopted one for $30,000. And the baby is just Hispanic!" conversation still puts a knife to my heart, she still think you can buy children like melons. Pick em up, turn them around, thump them soundly on the bottom and throw them in the cart. AND she doesn't get that you don't ask questions like that 1)EVER and 2) to a bunch of women against trafficking. Every time Filipinos gather, she feels I should show up like a newsie and start yelling, "Want yer baby here, want yer hot, chubby babies. Twins especially! Twice is nice!"

Grrr. Thankfully they will not be coming down for Memorial Day like they were planning. Otherwise I'd have to sit in the living room for 3 days and listen to her harping about buying babies. Of course with all their money, she has even offered us a loan. Yeah, no. We had one huge argument in my twenties about them lording their hoards of money over me and I walked away saying I won't take a red cent from them again. Which, I haven't, much to their chagrin. (And guess who they put in charge as executor of their estate?!?! ME!! ARGH! However, knowing my mom, they will have everything trussed up tightly in trust funds with a long list of concessions.) I'm trying to get over this hump in my life, not tunnel through it with a spoon for Pete's sake!

Anyway, on some levels it was amusing, on others it was hurtful but mostly is was just a swilling vat of colossal stupid, and oh joy, I just wanted to share it with you.

UpStanding

2011-05-19T08:28:00.001-07:00

Hey, I'm back. I'm totally not ashamed to say I took a huge dip there for a few months. Work was more than overwhelming, we had to put our 13 year old cat Timmie down and a month later our 15 year old dog, Soda. That makes 3 pets in a year, and we still have 3 more all over the age of 13 to go. What a sock in the gut, and when you ain't got no kids like us, you turn to pets. And when they die, it's like losing a child because you just don't have anything else. So I tail-spinned it through March and April.

I'll be honest, that's the closest I've ever come to a break down. My mind was foggy, I cried as EVERYTHING...and I'm no cryer I assure you, I barely limped through work, dragged my ass home and sat on the couch. We ate out every night practically because cooking was not in my vocabulary. Put a fork in me, I was done and ready to flush myself down the toilet of life.

But hope simmered on the horizon and I took the opportunity to get away for a week. Oh to get out of town....to the ocean none-the-less. I spent the days at Long Beach WA, got a hotel right off the beach with a deck and a fireplace and it was 70 degrees. I slept with the windows open, listening to the waves, walked on the boardwalk about 2 miles a day, explored every nook and cranny of the little town, (no tourists yet) ate out, sampling culinary delights from the sea, and spend hours in a coffee shop writing and watching the locals. It was nirvana and the beginning of my reset. I felt myself starting to slowly unfold from the crinkled foil ball I had wound myself into the last few months.

Unfortunately, when we got home, we had to put the dog to sleep. But it was only 5 steps forward 3 steps back. It really was a relief. That little girl gave us all she had for 15 years and it was time, bless her heart. So after a week of moping, we are getting back on track. I say we, because Koiboy violated our "one crazy person at a time" pact. Yes, Koiboy was in the doldrums right next to me. I think he was just as balled up as I was. I did think about taking antidepressants, but I'll be damned if I let the devil take me.

So I started at home, we rearranged furniture, cleaned, I got back in that kitchen and started to do what I love best, cooking. I made cream cheese lemon sticky buns, Caramel pecan rolls, ribs, potato salad, mango pudding, roasts etc. And amid my flour, sugar, measuring cups and a lot of prayer, I found my smile again. And under my banqueting table, Koiboy found his feet, and we are standing again, eating at home, working in the yard, watching Dexter and American Idol, it's like the nothing never was.

I have just decided that I'm 41. The kid thing is a done deal. It's over. And the pets? Well as they go, honestly it will free us up to finally get out and travel. I'm trying to live above and beyond my job, not let it define my moods and suck me under. I guess I felt that's all I had left to prove I was here, since I leave no DNA legacy behind, to prove myself....well to myself. But I had to realize I'm so much more than my job. I paint, I play music, I've had a lifetime of experiences outside that 7 year old office. That's what I should be developing: "Yes I was working, but hey we visited the Greek Isles!" "Yes, I had to take time off, but we did that Alaskan Sea Cruise!" "Yes I have a job, but I've got 3 painting headed to a gallery for an exhibit"

I had to stand up at work and learn to say, "I just am not able to get to that now, can it wait?" and it seems to be working. But I have to also stand up for the rest of my life outside the office. Be a better wife and not lose that magical curiosity in the world. I need to stand up and get my ass off the couch and spend time with my family and pets, think of something unique and fun to do on the weekends, start socializing again and enjoy it. This summer will be over before I know it, and I don't want to miss a day.

Oh, and we found out this week that they finally caught our Dooky Boy Burgler. He's being arraigned on 2 counts, illegal entering and malicious misdemeanor. I didn't think that would be such a relief, but I find myself sleeping better and not listening to every pop and crack in the house at night.

So I'm stomping my feet, standing up and not settling for any irritations at all damn it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and buy new toilet paper, because the stuff I have now is leaving lettuce in my lady taco, and that's quite frankly irritating. See? I'm not taking anything sitting down any more. I'm standing up.

Dookey Redux

2011-04-01T08:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, since I have been home with the flu for the last 3 days it has given me some time to really absorb, reflect and processes the last few weeks, and I this is what I came up with: First: Holy Shit! Second: Work is not that important, your partner, yourself, your home and your loved ones should always have priority. Why I went tootin' off to work the morning after the break in was beyond me. I felt like I absolutely had to be at work or else. That was stupid. I should have been at home remarking my territory, and I don't mean re-dookeyin' on the chair, just spending time, exorcising that spirit of fear. I noticed that I flew in from work, and just headed straight downstairs. Would not eat or hang out at the table like I usually did, all kitchen cooking stopped and we ate out. Typical response I'm sure, but clueless here thought she had a handle on everything and focused so hard on work as a distraction that I literally wore myself out and Mr. Flu paid a whopping visit this week.

So ummm. yeah. I hope I'm back on track. I have spent this time, knitting, painting, watching every Austen and Bronte movie I could find on netflix and enjoying my upstairs again. I even sat in the new chair in the dookey place (as it has been renamed) at the table for a full minute and said out loud, "You have no power over me mother fucker!! You come into MY house and dump on the chair. Oh please, we had foster kids. They could paint murals with their poo. And good ones too. You just put your shit on a pedestal. Not impressive at all." Hell, next thing you know I will be looking at my Va-Jay Jay with a hand mirror and growing out my pit hair.

Anyway, I have discovered I'm still trying to find that balance of not having kids in the house any more. It's been three years, you'd think I would have it figured out by now. But apparently I have been too busy distracting myself with work...and looking back on my blogs, I was fully aware of that fact, just helpless and unwilling to do anything about it. I think that kind of clicked finally while we were sitting at a table for "Showcase" an awards presentation banquet for our university. The "So do you have kids?" question circulated around the table and I simply said "No", but then launched into what was probably an overly hyper and super insecure soliloquy about how my student's are like my kids and my work. Paaaa-thetic. It's amazing how this infertility issue keeps me under it's thumb and Im 41!!! So to "fit in" I find myself saying things in family conversation's like "Well our 16 year old...." or "I know! Our 5 year old..." like the foster kids we did have 3 years ago were and still are our actual children. There are days when I wish we had never done foster care because of the gaping hole it left in our hearts when we quit after having to say goodbye too many times to kids who could never be ours, but mostly I am ever so thankful to have done it, not only for their lives sake, but it did give me a chance to be a mom.

After they left, our quiet house and all it's happy foster parenting memories were all we had. And we love our house. But after dookey-boy, it seemed like that was taken from us too and I fell into despair. Luckily, after some reality checks and laughter over some coffee with friends I'm putting my "Shit Magnet" stupor-hero costume in the closet for good. So as much as it sucks to be home snotting all over the keyboard and waking up in a cough syrup induced haze surrounded by Kleenex in the bed, maybe this was God's way of telling me to just stop......everything, breathe, and re-prioritize.

For real's this time. For real's.

You Will Not Believe This, Cause I Sure Don't.

2011-03-18T08:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, but rest assured it's not because I have been sitting at home being boring. Let's just say I have finally found my super power. Apparently, I am the lesser cousin thrice removed of that dastardly comic book anti-hero Magneto, I am...dun dun duuun.... Shit Magnet!!! (Pause for effect)

Let's forget about the fact I have fallen off the workoholic wagon. Instead I am gleefully riding along, playing my banjo as I go. Seriously, work has been relentless. For the last three weeks, we have had someone out for a week, and each time someone is gone, yours truly (Shit Magnet) has to fill in, and it's major event on top of major event. So I'm tired. So on top of having to show up everyday at work, my personal life reeks of one big stink bomb.

Three weeks ago our youngest cat, Timmie looked like she had a tooth abscess. $200.00 later, it was actually identified as a fast metastasizing tumor in her jaw bone. In a week, we had to put her to sleep. Bear in mind, we have been waiting for the other shoe to drop on our 15 year old dog, 22 year old cat and our other 15 year old cat. We did not expect for Timmie to be next. So, put her down one day, back to work the next cause I had Transit to run too.

Two weeks ago we were headed down to Lewiston, excited because finally a day off. I had spent the Saturday before working on our fee requests for work with my boss and the frustration from that drove us to Lewiston. Which from my previous blog on Lewiston Potties, you know is not my favorite place to hang but by the powers of Shit Magnet I was drawn to Lewiston like a fly to...well you get the picture. So it was snowing, it got worse, we had just decided to turn around when around a corner some demon in an 18 wheeler came screaming around the corner, halfway in our lane, splashing a mega ton of slush right into our pathway. We slid a 180 to the right, corrected, slid a 180 to the left, corrected and then a complete 360 right down the middle of the road going around the corner, a cliff on the right, a high hill on the left and a truck pulling a trailer of snowmobiles coming at us in the opposite direction. Now I have never given angels that much thought before, but I swear there must have been an army out there guiding us through this. There is no reason our momentum from that should not have carried us head on into the oncoming truck, but he sped up and we barely missed the trailer, nor was there any reason we should not have smacked right into the hillside. But it was like hitting a wall, our tires barely off the pavement, we stopped. And all we did was look at each other and say, "Ummm, Okay." we backed up, got in our lane, turned around at the next town, came back and had breakfast out, because Shit Magnet is cool and level headed like that. But had to go to work the next day, in fact it was a work week of 5 12 hour days.

And now for the Coup de Grace. Koiboy and I had a happy evening, hit the southfork for 1/2 price happy hour appetizers for dinner, watched TV and went to bed tired. About 5:oo I woke up to the sound of someone walking around upstairs. Half asleep I though, "Stupid ghosts", then I heard a light switch flip on. I was wide awake and grabbed koiboy, there was someone upstairs. First of all, let this be a good lesson on the benefits of wearying PJ's, cause getting quickly robed in the dark when your adrenaline is pumping is damn near impossible. Koiboy headed up stairs, I grabbed the phone and was calling 911 when I heard the voices and struggle up above. I shot up the stairs to see him struggling with some tall kid by the front door. He was drunk, trying to get out, but our screen door was locked and he couldn't figure it out. In the meantime, I was hopping around like Rocky getting irritated with the 911 operator because she kept asking stupid questions, ( I know to keep me on the phone so she could hear what was going on) but I was like, "Can I tag in boss? I want to tag in!!" So I thought, this SOB is NOT getting out of my house and went to slam the backdoor, from whence he came, and dead bolted it. He apparently forced his way in, the door was locked, but being an old house the latch is not that strong. On my way, I was flipping on lights so I could see to be able to kick some Shit Magnet ass, I passed our dining room table. And tickle my ivories and slap me purple if he had not laid a huge smelly deuce on our chair and pissed on the rug. I remember saying to the operator as I passed by, "WTF, he defecated on our chair the bastard, oh, he's toast now" as I slammed the door and locked it. In the meantime, Koiboy was strangely calm, holding on to him saying, "Now you need some help, just sit down, we will get you some." til the cops came, while I'm over there Gladiator-ing him..... "kill kill kill" Koiboy is used to dealing with lumbering drunks and said he had laughing on the inside at how stupid this dude was. But somehow they got around to the backdoor, I'm still on the phone impatiently describing him to 911. It's funny how your mind works. According to my cop friends they said my voice was pretty low and calm and I was using cop language laced with colorful expletives,

"Our intruder is about 6'0, dark jeans, white hoodie with a black tattooing print on it, the perp is trying to get out the backdoor, What!?!? Like a fuckin Justin Beiber haircut only black, I don't know!!!!"

Anyway, once he got sight of the back door the look on his face changed from drunken master to Bilbo Baggins wanting his shiny ring back. With the kitchen knives just a few steps away, I yelled at koiboy to just let him go. So out he went, lumbered up the back hill over the fence and away he ran. I told 911, "the perpetrator is headed toward Fisk St." and hung up. Koiboy went down and washed his feet 15 times cause he stepped in the urine, I tried to find something tragically fashionable and even put my contacts in, Lord wonders why I didn't apply makeup and went up to let the cops in, once they got there 4 minutes too late. They didn't catch him, but knew who he was and was going to pick him up the next evening. He didn't steal anything and we were left in the dark of night, ruffled but Okay with Mr. Hanky "Hi-dee Ho-ing" us from the chair.

I asked the cops if they had a hasmat team to clean itup, but we had to do it, AND take photos to email to them. I told them we would have a big pile of DNA for them in my garbage if they needed it. There's nothing like cleaning up beer poop at 5:00 in the morning, and you can only imagine the poop jokes that ensued for the rest of the day, cause you just have to laugh about it. AND I still went to work later that morning, but that is the power of Shit Magnet.

It was probably a good thing I was on phone duty, because Koiboy was able to keep it from escalating, where as I would have come at him like the WWE, shrugging off my robe and wrastlin' naked. You know how Koiboy is about cleaning. He steam-bugged the chair until there was practically no varnish left and went through a can of Lysol, cause no one was going to take away that chair from him, but after some convincing, the new chair arrives next week.

The bottom line is that we are safe, and have done nothing but make poop jokes and a laugh about it. Then we realized that morning it was our 9th anniversary! I told koiboy, "At least we got a present, the least he could have done was put a fuckin bow on it."

And so we laugh on....up up and away, Shit Magnet has survived again to create chaos another day.

The Good, The Bad and the Hell Yeah!!

2011-02-04T09:19:00.000-08:00

Well, after not seeing my diabetes doc for 2 years they finally netted me like a gazelle and made me come in. Actually, it was not intentional, I just slipped through some sort of medical crack, my prescriptions kept getting renewed online and I happily thought everything was jolly and was bounding through the fields with not an enemy in sight.

Bad news, blood sugars were up 2 points.

Good News, she's pretty sure it's related to an imbalance in my "stress hormones"... well effing duh!!

At one point she asked, "How long has it been since you two have had a real vacation?" Koiboy and I looked at each other and said, "three years?" She rolled her eyes and said we needed one, but when I asked for a doctor note for my boss saying I needed a vacation stat, she surprisingly didn't give it to me. (Yes, I let Koiboy come in on my appointment, but I made him stand way down the hallway like a trained dog when they were weighing me )

Bad news, liver enzymes where up, but that's related directly to the sugar shit.

Good News, with my minimal Wii fit hula hooping, panda bear dodging, sword swinging exercise I have not only achieved a gold star status, according to that Hal like girl voice on the wii but lost I have 5 pounds!

Bad news, she's making me see the OBGYN and since I'm turning the big 4-1 next week I need to get a mammogram (which I should do anyway). Not since Koiboy and I were riding the chlomid 'let's get pregnant" train have I had someone digging around my lady bits and I'm not so sure in my grumpy old age I won't say something put-offish or flat out rude.

Good news, even though I have diabetes and have already past through the gates of menopause hell at the tender age of 35, both are huge contributors to heart disease. BUT since my bad cholesterol came back freakishly and inexplicably low, she's willing to strike one of those marks thanks to my fish oil, oatmeal and sans bacon behavior.

So this weekend? Like with the blood of virgins, I will allow myself to bathe in the salty finery of bacon. I will not go near a vegetable unless it is dipped in something creamy and fatty and enjoy the plethora of Superbowl sales of all things bad for you.

The bad news? I will not regret a mouthful of it but it will only last a weekend.

The good news? Me and my squeaky clean arteries are goin' into the weekend happy campers.

Potty Mouth

2011-01-26T19:23:00.001-08:00

Ok, now I usually refrain from talking about really gross things. But I had a Bermuda triangle experience in lovely "Back in Time" Lewiston Id while out on a date night with Koiboy. And it had to do with bathrooms. I know!! Bathrooms who would have thought?!? But it was such a strange time, I could not help but wonder with all the dead birds falling from the sky, earthquakes and changing the Wendy's fries (which I HATE), there had to be something to it.

Experience one:

I was in the movie theater bathroom. It was Winter Ball, and all the young'uns were out in their very best gala and acting goofy and girly in the bathroom. Two of them were swishing their skirts around and yelling at each other on either side of me in the stalls. Suddenly, one yelled "Sarah, give me my shoes!" And to my amazement, a lovey pair of gold shoes, chunky heels with thin ankle straps came winging under the stall, past my feet and into the other. One after the other. Oh how I was temped to pluck the pretty little things out of their flight pattern, but in my amazement, I froze. Then they realized someone was in the middle stall, they squealed, slammed out the stalls and all I heard was the pitter patter of bare feet followed by a high pitched "Oh my God!!"

Experience two:

There are few twilight moments in my life, but in the Home Depot bathroom, I experienced one, or maybe it was really a groundhog day moment. I don't know. But seeing that all the stalls were full, I of course chose the handicapped stall. On a good hair day I'm 5 feet tall, so of course my feet don't hit the ground in those stalls. It was pretty slick, auto everything. However, with my TRex arms the paper dispenser was too far. Leaning slightly forward as not to fall off, the damn sensor sense the shift and flushed. Not just a flush, but one of those power sucking tsunami flushes that splashes quite high. So with a wet bottom, and huffing quite angrily, I reached again. It flushed again. You get the picture. I was trapped and unable to just jump up and resolve the problem without dripping on my clothes. Back and forth, back and forth and finally I was able to snag the paper, but not after getting a good wetting and making the neighboring stall wonder what the Hell was going on in there.

Experience three:

After washing my hands in the Ihop, I waved my hand under the greatly advertised "Heat waver" THE best hand dryer out there apparently. Let me tell you, it blew so hard it almost shoved my hands down. The skin on the back of my hands where making mini waves. I was highly tempted to stick my face under it and let it blow my mouth open like a dog with it's head out the car door, but I resisted. On the way out, Koiboy was laughing and said,

"did you get those hand dryers? They were crazy!"
"I know, they would dry your whole body off in seconds!"
"You could turn the nozzle and make a great whoo hoo dryer" (Yes he's crass like that)
"Totally, all I would need is a comb and some wax paper and I could have played Yankee Doodle by squeezing my thighs back and forth!"

Which of course ended that horrible conversation with a round of laughter. And that folks defined my date night in Lewiston with my husband.

What is a Puzzlement?

2010-12-27T09:03:00.001-08:00

Just a quickie after my return from holiday heaven with the family. These are just a few things that just made me go Hmmmmmmmm this weekend...

1) You know that verse in the bible that says it's harder to get a camel through the eye of a needle and such? Well, what people don't know is that there is an actual place in Israel that is a rock formation called the Eye of the Needle and you truly can't get a camel through there. Lot's of people reading the bible just don't have the information that can change the context of a whole verse.

2) I have tired to be a friend not a mother to your brother. So before I do anything I ask myself, would a friend do this? Would a friend call you up at 5:30am on your cell to tell you you're late for work? (Keep in mind she's in the same house call him in his room on his cell)Yes. Would a friend ride him to make sure he pays his bills? Yes. And would a friend not tell him how he needs to call his worried mother when she is worried about him coming in late? I should think so!

3) Koiboy's Mom: I'm not prejudice but I told him he was treating me like a n****** slave!

4) (sobbing) I just hope my grandchildren and even my children realize after I'm gone that Nana disciplined and was controlling because she loved them all so very much.

5) We were so afraid that someone would call you a n***** when you were a baby, so we made it fun for you by saying "Look at your cute little n****** toes or fingers" while we played with them. That way if someone said it to you when you got older, (bear in mind I'm ASIAN) you would not be afraid and find it funny and cute.

So that was my QVC Christmas fueled by abandonment issues, unbridled empty nest syndrome and a lot of sugar treats piled in the middle of the table. The upside is I got the waffle iron I wanted and got out of town for a little while. The rest I just found funny and cute.

Tra la la la laaaa....

Carol of the Wails

2010-12-17T08:28:00.000-08:00

Yeah, it's Christmas and honestly, not feelin the posting thing lately...well at least for the last few months. Things are starting to settle down. It's just been a bummer of a season. It's been 3 Christmas's since the last of our foster kids left. Three!! Well, I really don't count the 1st one, because we were dealing with Koiboy's dad dying of cancer, so we were kind of delayed in working through those emotions, to technically this is our second kidless Christmas. And quite frankly, it's not going as well as I had hoped. We are both really feeling it this year.

I was trying to explain to a coworker that it's almost like your children have died. No disrespect to those who have lost children, I can only imagine how that must feel. But I can't help but feel that this will be an eternal grieving processes. We had the blessings of a teenager, preteen, preschooler and a few babies. So in a funny way we ran the gamut of having a family in a compressed period of time. But now they are all gone. We don't know where they are, if they are safe. some of them will never remember us but most of all we will never see them again. Every once in a while during cleaning I pull a little pink beret from under the bed, or a little green army man from the cushions of the sofa, and it feels like death. In my "hope" chest, we have a little baby blanket, a smattering of toys, a pacifier, and a little book with shaky ABC's written on the pages. Should any stranger go through our house, it would read like a tragic loss of children. Things carefully preserved, put away out of sight in a special place and no other trace in the house of their existence.

We sit in the dark and look at the lights on the tree, reminiscing; "Remember when Little Godfather did this? How Princess Amadala looked when she opened her clarinet? Scooby coming home with hickeys from her 'Christmas party' with friends" all the while looking at one single ornament hung on the front of the tree that says, "To Mom and Dad". The only thing we will ever posses that is written like that....just for us.

I think if we couple this with the realization we are not getting any younger, our day's of being hopeful parents are now gone it doesn't help the situation. We are aging and being a parent now with the tough financial situation of our country and hardly making a living for just ourselves, adopting is still not in our checkbooks and even if we could, how can we support a child? Not to mention as time passes my health situation continues to roll down hill. Being a parent of a teenager in my 60's worries me. Sometimes I wonder if we took too many (5) years trying to have our own, or wasted time fostering when maybe by some miracle we could have saved enough to adopt. Our fosters were never clear for adoption while we had them, so that was out of the question. We had to give them back.

So I guess, as I hear that soft click of the door latch behind me this Christmas, I'll spend next year wandering around our empty house looking for an open window.

I hope you don't think this blog too morose, it's just simply how I feel this season. I'll be up and at em' again soon enough. I'm a "glass is half full" type of gal. Besides, a wise woman once told me, "My child, you may not be able to polish a turd, but you can always roll it in glitter." That is my hope for 2011.

Merry Christmas to All and to All a Goodnight.

A Former Addicts Tale of Woe

2010-11-01T08:21:00.001-07:00

Hello again, I realize I have been out of commission for quite some time. But trust me, I have excellent excuses....really I do.

1) I had officially crossed the line and become a full blown workaholic. Work was in my thoughts at all times. It's was the first thing I reached for in the morning, it's the last thing I thought about at night. I itched and got the shakes when I couldn't get my hands on work. I started mainline work, and, (sorry Nancy), I just could not seem to say no. To this end, an intervention was in order. I would have tapped Koiboy for this, but alas, I had drug him into my private hell. He become an enabler.

2) As we jumped into the semester (Aug-Sept) with college kids flooding back, we had yet to hire a new program coordinator. So it was up to me to get the volunteer service up and going. The other part time events coordinator who we had just hired, had a trip to Africa in the works before she came on board. She was gone for 3 weeks....just before Week Without Violence, one of our biggest events week during the year, and would be back on the day it all started. So guess who had to fill in the gaps on top of her own job? Just me. And that's what made me realize I was a workaholic. I had officially OD'ed on work. I swear my heart stopped and I had an out of body experience for the last month. I don't know how I got into the office or how I even got home. Work had become my heroin.

3) I did have to go home in August since my Rocket Scientist brother was coming back to Montana to visit the family. For some reason, they decided to stay at mom and dads house. Thus taking up the guest room and put their kids in the other guest room. My little brother has been living back with Mom and Dad, so that meant Koiboy and I would probably have to stay in my old room. You know, the time capsule of my childhood where things had not changed since 1st grade. However, now, amongst my old books, china dolls and stuffed animals was QVC crammed in every lovin corner. I work, my mom shops. In fact I watch "Hoarders: buried alive" on purpose to inspire me to throw things out so I won't be like my mom. I will say she's working on it. After the hoarding neighbor died across the street this summer and the kids had to clean out her huge 7 bedroom, 5 fireplaces and 4 bathroom place, I think she finally got a clue. Don't leave a big ass house full of stuff, because sooner or later your stuff will be strewn unceremoniously across the lawn for all the neighbors to whisper about over your dead bodies. So a telephone conversation that lasted a week ensued, over how to clean out my old room, what to do with the boxes, maybe she should wait until I got there to help clear out the QVC room, maybe we could sleep on the couch....on and on. Finally I just said, "Guess what, we're camping in your backyard." And we did, we brought the tent, air mattress and all our camping comforts. So every night we had peace and quiet.....that is after all my brothers, nieces and nephews cleared out of the tent since that was the place to hang away from the parents. It was rainy and cold, but I didn't care. It was quiet and I didn't have to worry about sitting on a toaster oven. But it did inspire a huge purging process when I got back home. So there went my weekends.

4) I came down with the flu during the Week Without Violence. Actually it was the Friday before, our new coordinator started that day, it was just me in the office so I had no choice but to come in with a 101 degree temp. and yell instructions down the hall to our new person, whilst shivering in my office with my heater cranked up on high. That was 3 weeks ago. It's like my body had sensed that the new coordinator was hired, the other event coordinator was back on Monday so it decided to have a colossal blow out. I was stupid enough to come back Mon-Tues the next week, but my body had other plans. So missed the rest of the week. The second week I had no voice. None, nada. But squeaked my way through work and I coughed and hacked my way through the day. The third week, I was able to get my voice back and started to feel human again, but still tire myself out easily. I think this was my intervention. I had no computer at home. No way of remoting into work, couldn't call in, nothing. I swear half my flu symptoms were the D.T.'s from work. But now I'm back, and like a new former addict, I'm really afraid to get engaged again, thus spurring a lazy attitude.

5) Oh, and did I mention that my sister in law, who lives in this same tiny town attending college at the tender age of 27, hanging with kids up to 9 years her junior, who came into my office last week bemoaning the fact that she was out of contact with her brother, crying that her family was not responsible, swearing she has not been drinking for 2 months (yeah right), saying she was working so hard on contributing to society and growing up......decided to dress as "Super Cunt" for Halloween. Lightening bolts, cape and all. Awesome. Totally. Awesome.

Screw this dry stuff, I'm off looking for my next fix. I wonder if Walmart is hiring for Christmas help yet....

Percentage and Points

2010-08-17T08:21:00.000-07:00

The smell of backpacks and crayons is in the air again as I wander through the wheedling children at Walmart delicately talking their parents into buying them not only the cool stuff, but as much stuff as possible. Actually I mean college children, little kids only care if it's got something glittery, fuzzy or smells. In a week students will be back and once again I sit here wondering, "where in the hell did my summer go?"

Well the 90% dedicated to working myself self to death, accompanied by the 3% of worrying to death about work, left me with 7% of Wee Hoo time. Which as you know was partially spent kickin it with the drug lords of Everett WA, cause I'm coolly accepted like that.

Oh yes, the Filipino conference. I did promise to blog about that didn't I? I put off telling Mommy Dearest about the conference until the week before, which I know is ridiculous because I'm 40!!!! But trust me the consequences would have been much greater. She called up and asked, er nooooo quizzed me rather, about what I was going to say, and it went something like this:

MD: "So what are you going to say?"
ME: "Ummm I don't know I figured I would see what the other panelists were talking about and wing it from there."

Silence.......

MD: "So are you planning on talking about us?"
ME: "Well that would be the focus of the panel, you know, what it's like to be transnationally adopted. Im sure families would figure in there somewhere."

...and here I waited for the "Don't you dare say bad things about us" lecture, but got this instead..

MD: "Well don't give out any of our personal information. Al Qaeda could be sitting in the audience you know taking notes. Don't say where we live, our phone number, nothing. They will use that information against you and could kidnap us for ransom or something you know. And your brother does work for the government and so did your dad!"

...and silence.....

Me: "Ummmmmm...."
MD: " It's true, I'd say that 90% of the time your in danger in Philippines, and 5% safe. Not like here in the states where your 90% safe and 5% in danger."
ME: " Ummmmm...."
MD: "It's a poor, poor country. You need to talk about the positive things, like that fact that you have a nice job, a home, a car. Things you could not have without coming to America you know."
ME: "Ummmmm..."
MD: Besides they don't have sidewalks over there. What country doesn't have sidewalks?!?! Countries that support Al Qaeda, that's who!!! Maybe we should have bombed the Philippines also to get rid of the Al Qaeda over there!! It's all Obama's fault you know! He let them in over there!!!.....Oh and don't say anything bad about us too while your at it."

.....and release. Ahhhhhhh.....Satisfaction at last.

I KNEW that was coming.

One point for me!!

Yopp!!

2010-08-06T08:20:00.000-07:00

So I've been busy, actually got a week of "vacation" in. Well not really. You know how it is. We ventured over to the east side to see Koiboy's parents for a nice little visit. Of course we ended up working on his step dad's place for 2 days in the heat and humidity. He (Easy Rider) and his girlfriend (Miss AD DC) are moving into a house that has not been approved by Section 8 before, so a lot of upgrades had to be done. So Koiboy replaced all the plugs and I painted the front and back steps with nonskid paint. It's a cute house but previously owned by a hoarder. Thankfully they had the inside cleaned up and painted by the time we got there. The yard was a different story. They hauled at least 8 truckloads out and still had more to go when we left.

But it never ceases to amaze me that if your hangin with the kids in the cool club, your coolness factor automatically raises and your accepted. Case in point. Easyrider recommended to the owner all the people clearing out the yard. Of course they crawled out from under every kind of rock possible. I believe I was witness to at least 8 drug deals going down. But since we were with the "fam" it was suddenly OK to conduct that type of business in front of us. But these were some twitchy people. Methhead Larry was all picked apart and kept trying to run his arms on me...ewwww, and crack head Rick invited me over and over to a party at his place. Apparently he's moved up in the world, out of a trailer and into an apartment. He said, "I got some good Shit at home yo." I felt like saying, "I'd rather shit at my own home....yo" but didn't. I didn't want to make him cry. But we got through with our part and got the hell out of there.

Oh, and just a suggestion, when chain smokers say they know a place that has THE BEST FOOD EVER! Run away.....RUN...A....WAY. Cause you'll end up in some dirty pub, eating greasy gut bomb burgers or soggy nachos only to wash it down with something served out of a dirty glass and still get stuck with the bill!!! I'm just saying.

The rest of the vacation went well. I presented on a panel of transnational adoptees at the Filipino American National Historical Society. It's the most Filipino's I have ever been around and was really quite emotional. And I dont' do emotional. But I'm still kind of processing it all. But I do have to say, that meeting other transnational adoptees was amazing, I was actually TALL!!! and I'm happy to announce that I have NOT failed my race, 60% of them were also fat and diabetic. I'll blog about it later...as soon as I get the time to pull things together in my head.

Needless to say, Mommy Dearest has been a hovering ninny since I went, constantly looking for reassurance. And it has brought out the "You should be thankful we adopted you" side of her even more. Great.

Anyhow, Im still alive and kickin it in Who-ville.

Big Rock Candy Mountain

2010-07-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

So this weekend was fraught with fun. Well sorta. We did manage a 6 mile bike ride, which my butt has yet to forgive me for. I was whipping along at a pretty good pace when someone whooshed past me, the retired Pullman Police chief! Two thoughts immediately entered my head, 1) He's retired and kicking my butt on a bike...uh...loser! 2) Should I yell, "Hey Hellion!! There's a speed limit on this trail! Slow it down grandpa or I'll call the police!!" But thanks to my inner governance I kept my wheezy mouth shut. However, I was triumphant when we caught up to him at the 3 mile mark where he turned around. I rode 20 extra feet just to be able to say to myself that I beat him....ha!

We also went to see the railroad speeder cars in Potlatch. Koiboy really wanted to do the long run to Princeton...ID. So we bought tickets but could not ride until 3:30. It was 11:30. Now with a name like Potlatch, it is not a stretch to conjure images of a town that consists of a bar, post office, Harvest Foods and a city hall. So needless to say, we did not have much to do to amuse ourselves and quite frankly I can only hang around and talk train for a little while while Koiboy visited with everyone like a Walmart greeter. So I amused myself by standing for a long time by the old photos of Chinese labor camps building the railroads whispering things, like..."Geez!" or "That ain't right" Not to many people took a look and just went around wondering why I was there. It is for this reason, I believe, that you don't see to many Asians at train events. But nonetheless, I made a few people uncomfortable so mission accomplished.

So to pass time we went to "Dad's Cafe", again...I'm sure certain images creep to your mind with a name like that. The last time I was there was with a bunch of multicultural students on our way out of town. One of the student's wondered aloud if they had brown gravy, to which another promptly said, very loudly I might add, "Girl, the only brown gravy in here is us...get the hamburger!" And somewhere a dog barked and the crickets chirped, at least until we all burst out laughing, making all the other customers strangle out a nervous hee hee as well. But lunch was good and uneventful, we were even good enough to go back inside and pay for the pie the waitress forgot to put on the check.

The speeder cars are little cars, (no more than 2-4 people) that they used to use to run up and down the railways to fix problems. We got Merlin as an operator. Now these things are small and you have to wedge one ass cheek in the chair and squoosh the rest in someplace, so down the track we bumped with Merlin. He didn't talk much for an old coot. I kept looking at him wondering if he were some magical immortal carnation of THE Merlin and how he got to riding these mini steeds of steel. He had longish white hair, didn't talk much but had an mystical aura about him, all that was missing was the pointy hat and cloak. So I amused myself with different Arthurian scenarios while Koiboy got his rocks off taking photos and mini movies of the ride.

We are trying to get out and live life again instead of confining ourselves to yard and home. It's nice, but not without it's hazards. It's a crazy world out there!

While we were waiting to board the speeders, we had a few minutes to venture over to the open rail car Theee-ater and listen to some folk music. It was the typical "old folk artsy" type of 3 three person band. A concertina, fiddle and guitar. The concertina player was wearing a pair of very loose fitting tye-die shorts. He seemed like he was the leader of the band and really got into his playing and at one point he shifted in his seat as he enthusiastically concertina'd away. Lesson number one to all your folk artsy free luvin people; when enthusiastically playing the concertina in shorts...wear underwear!!

Cause, my ears may have been hearing "Appalachian Betty" .... but my eyes were seeing "Turkey in the Straw."

Waaaay too much fun for me. I'm done.

Damn It

2010-07-09T08:42:00.000-07:00

Ahh the blog-o-sphere...shall we try this again? I guess I quit because I felt completely overwhelmed and my life was over.

"Nothing to see here folks, move along. Just a train wreck of a life, we're sopping up the blood and burying the bones...move along. "

But alas after much rest I do believe this Rocky still has one round left in her. On to better things, put the past and kid thing behind me. We actually attended the adoption party 2 weeks ago for our 2 former foster kids. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself all day, but I really didn't dread it. We went, my how they have grown up, gave hugs, props, kisses and left. And that was about it. Nothing. No regrets, no tears, maybe just a feeling of closure and satisfaction with a side dish of "now what?"

On the up side I have been asked to be on a panel of Transnational Adoptees at the Seattle Filipino Americans National Historical Society in July. I'm excited. I guess to move forward, I once again must go back. However, this has spurred the "I gotta lose some weight!" mentality. Lord knows I don't want to be the Porky Filipino on the panel. I may belong to the tiny, skinny waisted race of Filipinos, but sorry folks, this Cadillac body was built in the U.. S of A... huuuraahh!

So I have dusted of my bike, whom I have lovingly dubbed "The Purple Shamoo". Cause it's purple, I refuse to read the Shimano gear label correctly on the side and I look like a whale while riding. Not kidding. It's been 7 years since I rode that thing. I make Koiboy ride in front so he's not subjected to my ass hanging over the seat, which I'm sure looks like a down pillow draped over a watermelon. My first ride we went 4 miles, much to the chagrin of my pubic bone. I need to wear depends or something with padding, holy crap! So to give my butt a break, we have been doing a lot of walking. Of course it's not all with out incentive. Walk to the coffee shop downtown, get a coffee drink, walk it off on the way back home, grab a frozen yogurt afterward....I don't think I'm getting the holistic concept of exercising to lose weight here. But at least it's something.

And that has become the new mantra of my life. "Hey, at least it's something." Better than this bottomless pit I have been living in.

I've chosen life damn it. So I guess I had better get busy living it.

Damn it.

Almost Paradise

2010-04-07T09:18:00.001-07:00

Honestly, I have no idea where my life is heading right now. I have have my head down in the trenches working, working and working. And I'm starting to get this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that life is going to pass me by swiftly and quietly and next thing I know I will be resigned to a nursing home drooling yogurt and ice cream watching families visit their elders on visiting day.

So naturally the idea of adoption has popped up again. And after paying off the car and all our credit cards in a couple of years, I have to say it's looking awfully enticing, thereby injecting a seed of hope in this dismal working world of mine. There's a part of me that keeps saying this time it will be different. This time we will focus on really what we want and at the same time be realistic about what we want. Blah Blah Blah...give me a month and I may say, "Adoption? Pshshshshshsh, I would never say that!"

In the meantime the family drama continues as always. Here are some of the more stellar and tale telling things about what has been happening the last few months:

1) Koiboy's "step sister" (his stepdad and and her mom have never officially married but have been together forever) at 19 yrs old had her baby a month early. The baby and mom tested positive for pot in their systems, the doc. threatened them with DSHS if they didn't test clean in a month, in the meantime the baby was a preemie and staying at the hospital. During this time, Koiboy's sister, Baby Phat, has whipped herself up into some delusional post PCOS maternal hormone factory convinced she will never concieve...ever, and was acting like she was having the baby driving back and forth to Spokane everyday, holding the baby shower of her dreams (at 3:30 on Wedesday, when no one else could make it) She even stated that she would take the baby since she thought they were too young and couldn't raise it. This from a girl fresh on crutches because she fell at a bar because she was soo drunk and could not remember it. So instead the family turned eyes on us and said, "You can take the baby." Aw hell. Bottom line, we would have renewed our fostering licence for his step sister only, no one else. In spite of most things she does have a good head on her shoulders. But after a few weeks of craziness, the baby was ultimately allowed to go home with his mother, we remained baby free. No matter what people think, this was not a "free baby", he would eventually go back to his momma and in the meantime we would have the baby's father's pothead family on our doorstep all the time. They are so into organics, all the baby shower gifts had to be organic. But two guesses who's waiting to serve time for growing pot in the basement, the first guess does not count.

2) Koiboy's mom was determined to head to Mexico for spring break with his sister. We told her in all probability she would not get her passport because of her drug felonies, and guess which country is having cartel wars and the state was even warning people to stay away for spring break? But they didn't listen, got their airline tickets, hotel rooms, bought their wardrobes and were all packed and ready to go the week before taking off....aaaaaaaand then found out her passport was indeed denied. Of course it was the stinkin state's fault, not hers. So they ate the tickets, rerouted to Las Vegas and proceeded to spend themselves into oblivion so much that his sister had to come back and craigslist a roommate. Of course it was a boy, and of course she isn't letting her landlord know and of course there is no damage deposit or contract. Of course. Not to mention she is on academic probation. At the tender age of 26, she is following in her parents footsteps and is a full blown alcoholic. Although she will never admit that. Even the facts that she parties more that she studies (with her boss from the bank) and comes to work so hung over, that her lovely enabling boss allows her to sleep it off for 2 hours upstairs at the bank and then tells her to tell everyone she was written up on it when she was not, is not enough of a red flag for her to get help. I've done all I can with her, but she's in her own world.

3) I got a phone call from Koiboy's stepdad and girlfriend yesterday. They are worried. Her 21 yr old son is a meth head, depressed and suicidal, wanted for a warrant, he's also wanted for questioning because his car was seen leaving a drive by shooting and is now missing......SINCE FEBRUARY 15th!!! Uhhhhh, that's 2 months ago and they are just NOW asking for help? Did they file a missing persons? No, that would require they clean up and go to the police or risk having and investigating cop at their house. Lord knows when your son has been missing for 2 months that's the biggest concern you have. They think I can magically pull some police strings from across the state and produce their son. I'm trying to get them to file a missing person, and call the hospitals to look for John Doe's alive and deceased. If they don't do it I can technically do it from over here. But I would really perfer that they handle it.

4) Koiboy's mom, the MILF from hell is coming over for WSU's Mom's Weekend this weekend. Nuff said.

5) And what about my family in Montana? Besides being my older brother's family being flooded out and 3 trees almost falling on their home in NJ, my mom calling every day with some new herb she wants me to take because her friends are all dying or dead from cancer, the last one was what I call "Icky Berry", dad tearing out the shower downstairs and then upset because he cant find the shower handle he wants and calls Koiboy to try and find it for him in Washington, and my little brother texting offensive jokes and cartoons to me every other hour, they're golden.

Needless to say, summer is almost here and we need a vacation in the land called far far away. But thanks to a boss being gone for a month in July, a hissy woman dropping her position to 10 months and the Bottomless Well of Tears being off this summer, that just leave little ol me in the office. Maybe I'll redecorate with some palm leaves, a little tub of warm water and sand under my desk and a strong lamp in my eyes, while I wrestle with the notion of adopting, filing missing person's reports, checking out local 12 step programs and knocking back a few herbs.

Sounds like paradise to me.

The Suck Hole

2010-03-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

Yes Im back but for how long, I cannot tell you...at least until work sweeps me back into the suck hole that has become my life. Not to bitch, but holy cripes, work has been miserable! Im doing 21/2 people's jobs. After our director and assist director got fired, a new director shuffled in and no more rehires, (thank you recession)Im tasked with picking up the pieces after a brutal audit and lets just say crazy people. We did hire one new part time person. Aaaaand...she's a crier. Now I do understand crying, Lord knows I have done my share, but honestly, when all you do is sit around saying you feel bad about this and that, running into my office every 5 minutes to ask questions like, "where do you want me to put the tape?" and "How do I open the batteries to the camera" and then crying in the bathroom for 1/2 an hour for something that happened a month ago (like causing a printer jam), I'm beyond repair. The other person sits around stewing in her "I have a PhD but am reduced to working as a program coordinator" stew spewing hate and contempt for the rest of the world. Luckily I can be quite frank with her. I told her, "You should just tell everyone around you that have a certified case of Touretts, that way when crap like that spills out of your mouth, everyone will ignore it. AND STOP MAKING THE OTHER GIRL CRY!" Guess who got appointed as her supervisor 3 weeks ago because she was able to deal with her ugliness and get results? Guess. I dare you.

On top of this it's event's time. A Week of Women Speakers, Brown Bags, Women's Recognition Luncheon, Mom's Weekend, the end is not in sight. Im not even supposed to run these events, but between Bottomless Well of Tears Girl and Hissy Woman, nothing gets done. I hit the ground running and by 10:00am my head feels like it's going to blow open from the blood pressure building inside. Needless to say the rest of my life has suffered.....eating, sex, laughing, holding a normal conversation, blogging, and lets not even talk about the house. Koiboy has been great, but it hasn't stopped crazy thoughts that include a belltower. I did take last Friday off, and we went to some remote St. Gertrude's monastery that had a cool museum about Asians history in Idaho.

After the museum, we stepped into the chapel, which was gorgeous, and there was a little nun playing the organ. She stopped, came down, gave me a hug(?!?) and then we were treated to a little private tour. Afterward I told Koiboy that I wanted to become a nun....now. Eat, sleep and pray...hell I do that now anyway, why not in the remote countryside with the wind rustling over the prairie and not a computer or luncheon in sight? It would be peaceful, at least for a while. Then inevitably I would get restless and the shit would go down. I would have those nuns singing "How do you solve a problem like Kimberly" in a heartbeat. So I suppose the nunnery is not the place for me.

So I am on a mission to reclaim my life. How I will do that? I don't know. But it's gonna be ride. Thanks for the emails and reminding me that there are people out there willing to share my blogging life with me so I dont' feel so insane. So if you can stay with me, I'll do my best to get back on track. You're even welcome to puke over the side of this roller coaster, I'll have Hissy Woman clean it up while Bottomless Well of Tears cries over it.

Just A Little...

2010-02-24T08:14:00.000-08:00

I got this in my email yesterday for our former foster kiddo:

Hello!!! how's it going? its going well over here. the adoption is almost final. i finised making my clock for wood shop and i have good grades. In my healthy living class, we're doing a "final health project". You have to pick a diasese/illness/health condition and blah blah blah.You also need some extra stuff like an item a person might use if they have that thing you picked. I picked diabetes type 1. I was wondering of you, kim, had type 1 or type 2. if you have type 1, i would like to interview you. i have a camera so i can make this possible. if you can do this, could you suggest a date and time that would work best for you and i could see if that works with me. Thank you and i hope you have type 1 so we can do this. Oh...one more thing... tuesdays and thursdays from 3-4 i have drama club and this friday i might be going to a wyldlife event. If i do'nt go, ill let you know. Once again, thank you and have a nice day. LOVE YOU LOTS!!!!!!(so does Little Godfather)!!!!!!

With love and Care,

Princess Amadala

I confess, that a little part of me said, "I wish I had type 1 too." But some doors just need to remain shut for now. They are in a wonderful family and happy.

That's enough for me.

Give Me a Break, It's Friday

2010-02-05T10:46:00.000-08:00

It's been one of THOSE couple of weeks. I have no idea what's going on, but work would be balls to the wall if I had any. I drag myself out of bed, get to work, work at a frenzied pace, eat out on the way home because I'm too tired to cook, watch American Idol go to bed and do it all over again.

I loathe having to shower, that means I have to crank my ass out of bed even earlier. So if I can ponytail it for a day, then so be it. I'm involved with a bunch of other WSU employees doing a well known photographer's project. And today, of all days, is photo day. It's Friday, I'm frazzled, I'm tired and the last thing I want is a camera in my face. Heck, I barely made it through the free writing workshop yesterday. "This is my sacred story"....aaaaaand write...... oy vey. Really? I need to blurb out my sacred story? Now? I'm afraid all my stuff came out with me looking like a pathetic, tired, lonely adopted Asian girl. In fact, I totally sure he probably called counseling services for a suicide intervention stat after he read my sacred story.

I realize how magical and mystical free writing can be,, Hell, look at my blog. However, I tend to be waaaay over on the cynical side with a wicked, disgusting sense of humor. Not too magical and definitely not mystical. My life crawls along the lower echelons of hell, and I like it that way. So by the time we got to the "My superpower is...." it took everything I had not to write "smart assing." Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely project full of butterflies and happy skies, and I do think the end product will be a wonder to behold. It's just that I'm tired, stanky and a little off.

And I do mean a little off. This morning I drug my sleepy self up the stairs to let the dogs out and feed the cats. We keep all the canned cat food in the bottom of a hutch. I squatted down like a filipina would and opened the door and my senses were assaulted with the most God awful rotten fish smell. I paused. I sniffed. I paused and sniffed again. And inevitably i bent my head and sniffed again. Thinking holy cats!! is that me?!?!?! Oh my god! I must have died down there! It's a fish taco!! (I know TMI, but read on)

I reached for a can of cat food and my hand came back slimy. Well thanks be. It was just a dented can of cat food with a split lid that had been fermenting for the last week and finally reached defcon 1 last night. I was so prepared to be utterly disgusted with myself in my sleepy state, I was reaching for the Lysol. So just fed the cats and life went on.

So I'm on a mission to find out what I can do to 1) make my life easier and 2) make sure all the cat food cans are intact. Barring the latter, I think I have found the solution to the first:

Pajama Jeans

Like they say, "It's for when you've almost stop trying."

So I'm good. And my sacred story rolls on.

Under Weary

2010-01-27T08:52:00.000-08:00

Ahhh, I think I have found a tiny little bubble under the ice from which to breath. It has been insane in the membrane at work. I come home so tired I fight the urge to just sit and do nothing and blogging has definitely taken a back seat. But here I am. It's just been spot fire after spot fire and I think I have left metal shards on the ground from having to switch gears so quickly and frequently at work. A lot going on.

To top it off, last week a friend lost a brother to a gangland execution style shooting and two friends were wrestling the bi-polar demons and the demons were winning. It's hard to stand by and see your friends hurting, knowing there really is nothing you can do about it. A few words, a few funnies, a hug or two, but that's about it. All you can do is hope for tomorrow and take it day by day. And honestly, Im a woman of action so it's hard to not jump in there to battle the demons for them. I will do what I can.

For instance, this summer Koiboy hurt his back moving a 400 Ilb rock...big freakin surprise. In the wee early hours of the morning it decided to spasm on him. I woke to him calling my name. I thought he was having a nightmare, so being the caring and concerned wife that I am, I reach over and hit him to wake him out of it and grumbled at him. I heard a mug crash on his night stand, and as I sat up he kind of rolled out of bed on his knees with his head on the nightstand groaning. Now I was up and awake. He kept saying it hurts, and was pale and clammy so I went over and asked him if he could make it back on the bed. I turned to move the covers, heard another crash from the mug and he had fainted with his head on the stand, or rather partially fainted, so I pulled his head out of the water that spilled and tried talking to him. He started to get up, but kind of crumpled again. At that point I said, I was calling 911. Holy cats if that didn't snap him out of it. All of the sudden, it was "no, don't Im fine" yadda yadda. but I kept insisting. Then I said, "Don't worry, I'll be sure to put your underwear on you before they get here."

You would have thought I lit his underwear on fire with him in it. He sprung up, got back into bed and forbade me pick up the cell phone. Amazing. I think the sudden thought of EMT's coming in at the exact minute I was wrastlin' his limp, pale, clammy body into his boy panties was enough to make him draw in a deep breath and bring him out of his faint. Long story short, in a few weeks he was good as new and I have had several laughs over his sudden recovery.

So see, should you be in a tough spot, I will do my darnedest to help you out, I can't help myself, hence my tiredness at work. I have become known as the spot fire lady. Hell, I have somehow even managed to get appointed to a city subcommittee on creating ordinances for taxi cabs. TAXI CABS!!!

Now what in the hell do I know about taxi cabs? At most I can assure John Q public, that they will all, at least, be wearing underwear.

Let it Grow, Let it Grow

2010-01-11T12:33:00.000-08:00

Tis the season for the body obsessed. Today it's shaving. Living in a colder climate, one is certainly allowed to "let it all grow out", as it were, since our wardrobe consists of a lot of pants, sweats and NW fleece. Now admittedly as an Asian I really don't have a problem with body hair, unless you are a pre-post menopausal Asian like me, then the facial hair does make me look like Chaka from Land of the Lost.

But I digress. So as the robust NW women we are we let it grow when it snows, or a least I thought we all did. I can't count the times a coworker or visitor came to my office and hiked up their wooly socks over their wooly legs as they sat across from me. Now, don't get me wrong, a lot of women don't go for this look. Maybe being in a Women's Center creates an atmosphere that attracts fuzzy women, I don't know, but you get use to it. So I was a bit taken aback when a friend of mine announces that she was upset because her waxer had gone on vacation over Christmas and she was "itching" (her words not mine) to get an appointment.

Being simple minded and uncouth I had to ask "Why?" Apparently one must not wear a thong without properly trimmed bush, otherwise it looks like a yeti sporting a rubber band. I had no idea. So for the rest of the day, I sat in my granny panties mulling this over , thinking of the things we do to ourselves to make us feel comfortable. And no matter which way we go, we get judged.

For me, bikni waxing aside, I will wish for the days when a one piece swim suit that included pantaloons and a cap will someday grace the cover of sports illustrated....and be sexy. As for the shaving? It's winter for pete's sake. And besides, everyone loves a welcome mat at the entrance of their home. Don't they?

It Ain't Fittin'

2010-01-08T08:44:00.000-08:00

Every year I make the resolution to not make resolutions. Especially that "lose weight" resolution. If that ain't a pile 'o disappointment I don't know what is. But a few nights ago I got up, unable to sleep, to watch a little TV. Every stinkin' channel either had paid programming on some weight loss drug or each commercial featured some lovely magic pill that made fat slip through you like snot on a doorknob.

What.

Is EVERYONE planning on running around in bikini's this summer? So pissed off I decided to watch the news. And it features some crackhead woman who roughed up a MacDonald's because they didn't McNuggets at 8:00am or some damn thing. Now you can't go and get fat without fear of some crazy person killing you over some trans fat! I think that's the answer. The health guru's should just hire a bunch of crazy people to hang out at the local fast food restaurants and people will begin to avoid them like the Las Vegas bus depot! Voila, healthy country.

These messages become so ingrained in your head and I work overtime to counteract them. Cal me the Phat Police. I was sitting in the car while Koiboy scrapped the windows listening to the radio. An ad came on from our city Parks and Recreation Department:

"Sit and Fit classes are being offered in June" (great, yet another fat thing)
"Got a new Pooch?" (Hey!! That's not nice...fuckers")
"Enroll them in our new dog obedience classes" (Oh....opps.)
"Limited size for classes!" (Hey!! What, fat people are too big now?..fuckers"
"So enroll now before they fill up!" (Oh...opps.)

Guess who had to drag their tired sore ass into work this morning because they spent 3 hours messing around with Wii sport and Wii fit last night?

I dare you.

Guess.

How Great Thou Art

2010-01-04T10:58:00.001-08:00

So the holidays are over. I can honestly say that I'm sad to see them go. I actually enjoyed my holiday season this year. We partied, snuggled by the Christmas tree, let each other open one present early, which lead to an orgy of early present opening, hence having nothing to open on Christmas, partied some more and undecorated that house which lead to an orgy of practically rearranging the whole house using up all the reserves of energy I had stored up on my week off. Oh what fun.

Why we do this almost every year I have no idea. Since when does "lets take down the Christmas decorations" really mean "Oh lets rearrange this bookcase, and that sofa, how about these chairs? And oh joy! Let's move the computer and tables around for the umpteen time while we are at it!" But that's how we roll in the Barrett household. We know no other way. The bitch was moving the large hide-a-bed up the freakin stairs. But I must say in all my endeavors to create an art space for me, I think I have finally accomplished doing so this weekend.

For some reason, (TV) I just could not create an art space for myself (TV) in any place I have lived (TV). I crunched myself on a card table (TV) in the family room (next to the TV) that had no windows whatsoever, clamped my little light somewhere on the table, but it keeps springing off and breaking bulbs. But I persevered and even down sized my palette to accommodate the tiny workspace (TV). But enough is enough, I decided a serious artist would not put up with such conditions (No TV), and would create a space for themselves (with TV). After all, it's just 2 of us in a 3 bedroom house, we have the room right?!? So I selfishly confiscated the computer desk, (we will soon be surfing on the 46 inch TV monitor downstairs, wireless mouse and keyboard since Koiboy has the Tim Taylor genome "Ar Ar Ar") and moved the spare TV (surprise surprise) into the spare room with my art stuff. Now I can paint and watch Airwolf reruns to my hearts content whilst cranking out endless artworks fraught with deeply felt symbolism and meaning.

Oh, "A 1,000 Ways to Die" is having a marathon on SPIKE TV!! Excuse me...... I hear a canvas calling my name.....

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-21T10:56:00.000-08:00

This is the first Christmas we are staying home. Can I get a Hallelujah! No 3 snowy Montana passes to traverse, no packed Seattle freeways, just us, our Christmas tree and a scant few gifts to open. Can we say heaven? Technically we are supposed to go to Seattle, but since Koiboy is not talking to his family, or rather limiting his talking to his family, we will not be going.

Not talking to his family you say? How can that be? Let's go back to this summer when his dad brought over the boat. And I say boat as in old 50's boat with no top, faded paint, a suburban backseat not bolted down across the back for additional seating and a stolen motor donated to Koiboy's dad (Easyrider) for payment of some drug deal gone wrong. So no, it's not a classic woody or a bay cruiser, it's something Gilligan would think twice about leaving the islands in with headhunters on his ass. So boat arrives as promised to his sister, whom weeks before we almost ran over as she roller bladed across the road in her polka dotted bikini and sleestack glasses. Actually we aren't quite sure it was her, we were too busy shaking our heads in shame to really get a good look, but we are pretty certain. It's Pullman in a wheat field, not Misson bay. Now the boat was promised to Koiboy. And he was under the impression it was being brought over for that special hallmark father and son moment. NOT! in fact his sister had begged his dad to bring the boat over so she could hang out at the dunes in her "baby Phat" across the butt bikini with all the other college kids, (bear in mind she's TWENTY FIVE). So the boat moment was lost, Koiboy was furious that not only did his sister succeed in taking over the boat, but convincing his dad to leave it at her house. The first time she took it out, she broke it. Dead battery, forgot to put the plug in and whatever else. She took it out once. Didn't fix it, didn't ask Koiboy is he even wanted to use it the rest of the summer and then got pissed off at him because he didn't say hi to her on campus because he was talking to another person. He sent off a email to her telling her that she was selfish and disrespectful and he was tired with her lying to their parents about how horrible he was, affecting their relationship and that he was not going to let her get away with that anymore and all the talking ended there. (Whew)

So, predictably, feeling threatened and pulling a power move, Miss Baby Phat kicked it into high gear and got his mom and later his dad to come over to Pullman to see her and not visit him. ( I warned him) I found out on facebook about his mom, and was driving by and saw his dads truck at her trailer the other time, and you can bet your ass I busted both of them. His mom, I simply just asked is she had come out and called up Easyrider and said, "So your in town? When are we going to dinner?" Was nice, didn't bawl anybody out. Just said I totally understood, people have their reasons for what they do. I just want the same courtesy when we are in their neighborhood and don't stop by their houses. And, by the way, park your ass on the other side of the trailer next time if you don't want to get caught. Taking the high road if you will. But we just got a package sent to Baby Phat to our house from their aunt. Nothing for Koiboy, just her. So somebody will have to come pick up their gift, and I don't do deliveries. So it's not over. So koiboy is done and no visitation required this year.

Mommy dearest and dad did come over here during TG, so that was good. Although mommy dearest, ever working on her "how unconciously can I be a racist" repertoire did bring a gift; for the President of the university. It was a book that she felt he could really relate to, "from the hood to the hill" by Barry Black. Somehow she felt that this would be of inspiration and comfort for our African American WSU President. Needless to say, I took the book (so she would not send it on her own) and tried to explain why it was not appropriate. "But why? All black people come from places like the projects. Look at this guy, he's the Senate chaplain now and can actually write a book!" Nuff said. *sigh.

It's been a crazy fall. But I do finally feel we are back on our feet after the foster kid thing. That just took us down to the foundation. We are laughing again, hoping again and dreaming again. And the playful bantering is back.

"Rudolph can't play strip poker silly, he's already naked"

"I like your pleasure rumblings"

"Are my balls still stored in that bag on your side of the bed? Cause I need them on so you can kick me there, cause right now I feel nothing"

"Nu uh....a dutch oven is when I actually pull it over your head, this is just an oven warmer."

"If you don't unclench just a little, you will suffer from sphincter fatigue and believe me, you don't want that."

Ahhhhhh the sight and sounds of a dysfunctional family right on track. Happy holiday's to you all and to all a good Blinkin Night.

Thankful for the Small Things

2009-12-01T13:50:00.000-08:00

Holy Crap! I am alive!! I truly wish I could blame it on some heart renching story, like finding my bio parents in some political encampment in the Philippines and flying over to rescue them Rambo style but with ninja skills or perhaps I had found a new calling and have been working on becoming a heart surgeon to give the gift of life. Alas, it's none of these things. I simply just fell off the blogging wagon. Nothing too exciting. Actually I have been involved in a side relationship...with facebook. All my pithiness is concentrated into one small status sentence, out there for all to read and comment on. Why just today I status'ed that I was tiptoeing in a mine field with clown shoes on. See? Pithy, deep and one sentence, subject to any interpretation.

But that doesn't mean life hasn't had it's FU-n moments in the meantime. Work continues to kick my ass. Im tired. Doing two jobs, but hopefully they will hire an office assitant and I will have my load lightened.

No vacations. Nada. Our joy consists of going to the casino of all God forsaken places to enjoy the "Trab" (as I call them) buffet. We drive 1 hour and 45 minutes for crab people! In a smokey casino. Now that I call pathetic goodness.

This year, instead of listening to mom and dad sniffle on the phone that my little brother didn't invite them for Thanksgiving and Dad had to scour the whole city for what was apparently THE LAST TV turkey dinner meals in the world, I invited them to our house for Thanksgiving. To my chagrin, I realized this year was my parents 45th anniversary. And since mommy dearest seems to think that each fifth one is a mile marker for her children to behold, I had to scramble and find something special before they got to our house. So I finally decided on a digital frame and proceeded to email my brothers to get them to send photos. 150 photos uploading later a thought occured to me. "She's going to hate every one of these or they will remind her how much her kids have moved on without her and cry." Dear God, please let it be the former. 150 minutes later after she sat down with the slow, 10 second transitioning frames, she was still crying. Oh joy. I kept nodding and pointing out the positives, all the while glaring at Koiboy's back as he happily chatted away with dad in the living room. I just don't get how a photo, 35 years old, of all us kids sitting on a rock with grubby clothes and s'more-ed out mouths, suddenly turns into "My precious children just don't love me anymore, they don't need me after all I have done for them"...."Except you of course Kimmie"

Lets just say, when an old friend called up at 7:30 the next morning to go with her to put her cat down, I practically leaped out of bed and snuck out of the house into the fog and rain screaming "freedom" like Braveheart all the way down the road.

To Laugh Or Climb into a Belltower

2009-10-14T15:00:00.000-07:00

I know you get so tired of hearing this, but Im so busy!! It's Nuckin Futs. I have 4 major events this week with our student orgs and 1 police forum to do. And everyone know that working with students and police is like herding cats on fire. So that's my excuse and I'm sticking too it.

I will say it has been a couple of interesting weeks. First I got invited to the President of the university's house by the first lady to attend a luncheon for the African American students. Why I had to be there was beyond me. My boss wanted me to talk a little about Mom's Weekend. Thats all. Nothing more. So I arrived, dressed in business casual, took special care with my hair and even dabbed on some makeup. Pretty good for me, and showed up on time. The next thing I knew, my boss was taking me aside to change into this purple tshirt that had the logo of our student orgs in our office on the front of it. OK. No problem. A little disappointed cause I agonized over my outfit for a day and being the only one wearing a tshirt among dressed up students? Not so professional. But if I as talking out our student orgs. it made a little sense.

Now there is being a minority, but there is also being a minority among minorities. The most awkward position of all. The only Asian among the African American students, first lady, faculty and staff. But everyone knows you need a little rice with gumbo right? (Quit ohhh and awwwing, Im evoking my brown privileged here to crack race jokes) So I was doing OK but still felt like everyone was staring at me. And not that nice polite, "Who the hell are you?" stare, but the "What the Fuck are you?" stare. Toward the end, I went to the restroom, did my business and was washing my hands and turned to dry them. Something caught my eye, so I turned and on the back of my shirt was a gigantic, and I mean gigantic, from neck to ass-gantic Nefertiti on the back of my shirt with Black Women's Caucus around it. So here I have been trouncing around this luncheon, the only Asian in my tacky T shirt with that on my back. I might as well been wearing black face. No wonder people stared at me. So needless to say, I spent as much time as I could with my back to the wall, wondering why in the hell this always to me.

Second, I had this ridiculous conversation with my mommy dearest about this hoarding show. She's a hoarder. That's why no one is allowed downstairs. My old room has turned into the QVC over order room and she has multiples of everything. So I was teasing her in a good natured way. She was laughing and denying. In fact, I made her laugh so hard she had to hang up the phone. Only to call back and tell me the reason she had called was that she wanted an ionizing salt crystal lamp for Christmas. 5 of them.

I told her, "Oh sure, I'll hoarder them off QVC for her."

Who's laughing now? It's my turn anyway.

My Big Fat Randomness

2009-10-01T08:50:00.000-07:00

So you may have noticed my lengthy absence from blogging. I guess Im hitting that mid-logging period of my blogging. You know, it’s something you have been doing for so many years and suddenly you really start to wonder the about the point of what you are doing. Kind of like a mid-life crises. You start to have thoughts of abandoning your blog, only to start a newer more racy blog with complete anonymity where you eff this and that and post a photo of yourself 20 years ago and 20 lbs lighter and make up some cool name. Or, like me, you just sit and stare at the screen, hands poised on the keyboard thinking about that last doughnut on the countertop until you snap out of it, say Fuck it and go and surf for the latest news on a magic diet pill and decide it’s just easier to buy a size larger and cut the tags out.

Seriously, have you ever noticed at thrift stores that the tags are all cut out of the fat people’s clothes? Like someone is going to judge you instantaneously when you drop them off. Your taking it to Goodwill in a garbage bag for Pete’s sake, where it will be shipped out to Denver and de-loused! No one is going to pick up your fat tank in New Orleans and say, “holy shit” this belongs to Blinkin in Washington! Man, what a fat ass!!

Anyway, I guess this is my way to deal with my blogging plateau. Pick everything around me apart to make myself feel like I actually have a life and that someone out in cyberspace is really interested in what I have to say. So bear with me as I randomize my way through life.

On the upside, I finally decided what I am going to be for Halloween. It took awhile. I am far beyond the sexy nurse and slinky kitty costumes and being short and brown, have done the ewok thing to death in my youth. So I opted for people I admire and wish I could channel in real life. So I will be Frida Kahlo, ok an asian version of Frida and much plumper version….more like Frida-Lay actually, but Frida nonetheless. Koiboy is planning on Captain Morgan, I assure you it’s not because it’s my favorite thing he does naked, he just does it so well, and hey, who doesn’t think about a pirate in the bedroom? I think he would be a great Captain Morgan and have encouraged him to grow a “butt duster” (oh my lesbian friends, just think about it for a little while and you’ll get it) to be in character.

Welcome to my random world, where everything don’t mean shit.

Great White Hotness

2009-09-11T10:40:00.000-07:00

So life goes on. Sorry to have been absent yet again. I was involved with planning our local police forum with the campus students. It went pretty well, a police intern even volunteered to be tased in front of the crowd. I must say, I never, ever thought I would see the day that I would be out on the campus mall, standing next to the police chief and other officers handing out fliers saying with unbridled enthusiasm, “Would you like to see someone get tased?” Never in a million years. I suppose I can blame it on my lack of being a mother. Having no reason to follow my moral compass as a fine example to any off spring, I have sunk to the lowest depths of self depravity were I may as well be peddling pain and crack. After all who is watching me?

I often find myself asking this question, only to answer with “Pthththbhth. No one!” before I think of doing something questionable. Who cares? Of course I have the part of me that always counters with “what would Jesus do?” and most of the time, albeit grudgingly at times, Jesus wins out and I tell Satan to go fuck himself. I suppose Im just getting comfortable in my childless life finally. Instead of constantly comparing myself to the measure of societal motherhood, I compare myself to those crazy looney old women that are well known for all the things they did wrong. Why not? I’ll be sashaying around in black with sandals, draped with crazy jewelry and scarves, lots of scarves, peering over thick black framed glasses that dangle around my neck with a chain in no time calling everyone “Hon” or “Sweetie”. Ok, probably not cause the stick up my ass would prevent me from bending over and pulling on my Birkenstocks. But the thought is nice.

In his own way I think Koiboy is recovering too, and not measuring himself against the tall order of fatherhood. Even though he doesn’t speak about it much, I know it’s been hard. Especially since his younger brother was killed in a car accident, he’s the only male left in his immediate family. But I notice he’s lightening up. Why just yesterday we went to lunch and he spilled something on the crotch of his pants. I told him to go to the bathroom but he wiped it up instead and said, he didn’t want to stand up and “overwhelm me with his great hotness. “ And Im afraid that just might happen someday, after all this is the same man that can fold panels from our 8ftx10ft dismantled shed into 2 garbage can loads. Now that’s hotness. And since it’s just us in the house, he can shine his hotness all over the place, and Im sure even Jesus wouldn’t mind that.

Here’s Blinkin, reporting from the depths of her depravity.

All the Little Birdies on Jaybird street....

2009-09-02T09:08:00.000-07:00

To Tweet or not to Tweet. That’s is the Twittering Question.

I joined Twitter almost a year ago. And I log in every once in a Twot. It just doesn’t hold a candle to my Facebook. Twat you say!?! But the record of every tweeting moment of my life is so important to you. How could I not be a Twotter? I just can’t. And what’s more, reading some peoples: “I’m laying an egg, my uterus hates me” twits are quite frankly disturbing. I do not need to know what is going on every second of your life, let alone what kind of party is Twittering away in your pants. Please put that up on the epic scale of “Ew”.

Then the stranger tweets are slightly unsettling. Who is this tweeter and why are they tweeting me? I don’t know them, but suddenly they are “following me” on Twitter. Is that not stalker-like to you? If someone just started tapping your phone or reading your emails you would be calling the authorities. However, The Tweet Patrol does not exist and your life is an open book to any Twitter-er. But, by today’s standards, that type of behavior is OK. Now granted the chances of fellow Twatter, “MEsoSexy” living in NY is not a threat, but hey, they thought Craigslist was safe too. You never know what kind of bird crap will fall from the Twitter nest once you stand beneath it with your mouth wide open.

Do these twiddle people not have friends? It’s like a hoarding mentality only without the stinky disorganized mess piling up in your basement; how many friends do I have? How many disciples do I have following me on Twitter? How many tweets can I follow? It is a social sickness. We can’t even express ourselves to our own partners, but we are willing to get online and vomit into cyber space for all to see. Wait, that’s a lot like blogging! Damn it.

Ok, so I guess I have been infected too, but I’ll be tweetin damned before I fall victim to the Twitter Flu. Stick that in your Twot and smoke it….but whatever you do, don’t tweet me to tell me about the experience.

It Ain't Mr. Rogers Neighborhood No More

2009-08-31T08:41:00.000-07:00

The weekend went entirely too fast. But I can honestly say Im happy to be back in the peace and quiet of my office. It was a noisy weekend. Let's forget about the fact that I practically shut myself up for 2 days replaying Myst, the End of Ages, completing it in two day's. I do tend to get on the obsessive side when playing those types of games...just a little. In other words, the world ceases to exist. But in spite of that, the world still leaked in through open windows, and it sounded like we lived in the middle of a playground.

On our street we have the Zucchini Festival. It's not a city thing, just our street and has apparently been around a long time. It's a quirky festival, and some Vegans may call it vegetable abuse, but it consists of an evening filled with creating Veggie Horror Tales...that is if they live to tell about it. It begins with the lawn mower parade. The object is to add flare to your mower, pinwheels, tassels, streamers etc. and parade down the street. Picture old men in fishing vests with black socks and sandals. Then we move into the who can roll a thick slice of zucchini down the road the farthest followed by the water balloon pelt and gigantic slingshot slung between 2 trees used to quickly propel various sundries of veg down the back hill, (hopefully no one is walking on the trail below) and lastly the hoot-n-nanny and BBQ. We didn't attend this year, for some reason veg flinging just did not excite us.

However on that same day, we had the ever lasting bouncy castle birthday party on one side and the other side a child who had somehow convinced his friend to shoot arrows while he tried to catch them. You can only image what was said when his dad found out, on second thought, maybe you couldn't. Somehow, "Quit that!" just didn't seem to register for the youngsters and they continued with glee. I was waiting for that blood curling scream followed by sirens at any moment. Luckily, it never came. But then the feral children of Whitman county decided to bounce on the trampoline and fire arrows. No sirens, just the resounding "Quit that!" hung in the air having been repeated ad nauseam. All while I hovered madly over my keyboard questing the golden tablet, scratching symbols and and unknown alphabet on paper. So it was nice to get back to the office. As crazy as it gets here, it sure doesn't touch that mother fuckin craziness at home.

My mother calling up crying every 5 minutes is a totally different story. One that I will tackle when my mind allows.

For now, one day at a time.

It's What I've Always Wanted

2009-08-28T12:44:00.001-07:00

It's Friday. Finally. It's been one of those weeks. We had 3 assaults on campus. And there is nothing more disconcerting than finding out after a day of interviews for TV and newspapers that I had 2 different earrings on. I know!! Total Tard Alert. I was just hoping that the camera was from one side only and that my long hair covered it. Not that that should diminish what occurred, (However, 2 of the reports that were filed by the same woman, were recanted) but after feeling insecure and replaying what I said over and over in my head wondering if I screwed up, I get to get in my PJ's and lo and behold 2 different earrings. It didn't help that I had a dressing crises that day to begin with. So I think what happened was that I had on one out fit, pulled a drama queen and switched and only got half my earrings changed. Brilliant. Needless to say I just pulled the covers over my head and went to sleep.

Koiboy's family is such a train wreck sometimes, you cant' help but watch. And I get the feeling that now that his stepdad's girlfriend (ac/dc)18 yr old daughter is pregnant, they want us to take her in since we are close. AC/DC's twin daughter is on meth again, was living with them and then just up and left, no baby diapers, no car seat, no clothes, nothing. They don't know where she's at. The other twin is giving up the daughter she had at 17, 3 years ago for adoption, her son is back in jail after breaking a no contact order and now her 16 yr old is clear across the state in Spokane, living with a family whose sole livelihood come from illegal activities..it seems, and we should just take her in?

Now forgive me if I sound harsh, but we just got our lives back in order. Recovering from Koiboy's dad dying a prolonged death, his stepdad's unfounded illicit behavior with a minor trial, quitting foster care and dealing with grief upon grief was just about all we could take.

And on a side note, after dealing with the finality of infertility, and the lifelong consequences, the last thing I personally want is a pregnant 16 year old in my house. Doesn't that sound like I be hatin'? What's a little more guilt to carry around? But it's family. So what to do? What to do? I have no fucking idea. The helping part of me thinks, we still have the crib and some of Little Bug's baby stuff, but then the selfish clamped down part of me says, "hell no" it will be like digging your uterus out with a grapefruit spoon a little each day.

As Winnie the Pooh says: Think. Think. Think.
As Blinkin says: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Oh Fear

2009-08-26T13:15:00.000-07:00

There have been some assaults on campus. And being the media circus hungry society that we are, and circumstances being what they are, eventually anything assault ends up on the Women’s Resource Center’s doorstep, and right behind it the media. Talking to the media gives me ass hives. Did I say something wrong? Could I have said it differently? What if they misconstrue this or that? Was my fly open and I bet I look like a moppet with my lovely fly away Filipino hair.

Either way, things like this just serves to bring up all those itty bitty little fears I fash over when lying awake at night.

1) Bladder infections while traveling. Not that I have had that many, but my fear that I will not drink or potty enough while on the road will result in some kegel clenching UTI, thus ruining my trip.

2) Side swiping parked cars while Koiboy drives down the street. This totally unfounded fear, shampoo’s, rinses and repeats while driving down the road. I picture a grinding sideswipe, mirrors flying in an array of glass and me cringing in the middle of the car with the emergency brake up my ass.

3) Boogers. Nothing worse than boogers. Nuff said.

4) Marilyn Monroe moments. I wear skirts a lot. But they have to be straight skirts, not the whirly kind of skirts because I fear that any given moment, a rouge gust of wind will come sweeping down the plain and expose my religion to everyone, even though I wear undergarments. This is closely related to those fears in being naked dreams we all have.

5) Im deathly afraid that in my rapid typing and response enter key reflex, I will type, “Glad to see you on Facegook!” to one of my Asian friends on Facebook.

So I am bound by my fears, petrified when the media comes knocking that I will be standing there with my the wind upskirting my clothes, boogers in nose looking like a fool.

This is Blinkin, Good Night and Oh Fuck.

THE week from hell and beyond.

2009-08-20T13:59:00.000-07:00

Things accomplished and to accomplish this week:

Interview candidates for new coordinator position.
Chose candidate for new coordinator position.
Offer candidate new position.

Get orientation stuff together for new employee.
Boss decides that we much work out every week hourly chart for new employee to keep it within the temporary employee time constraints so we don't have to pay benefits.
Afternoon headache after doing said hourly chart process.
Boss decides they wont have enough time, screw the hourly chart.
Bang head on keyboard. Smile as people walk by office. Continue bang head on keyboard.

Panic because I don't have access to the new I-9 process on line because I have not taken the training.
Take training.
Panic because I realize I have to get every-bloody-one in to do the I-9 online now.
Get everyone in to do the bloody I-9 online.

Try and make it to the vets to pick up tranquilizers for 20 year old cat to take it to vet on Thurs.
Miss picking up tranqs for 2 days, get phone call, have to move appointment.
Pick up tranqs finally.

Attend police intern training on crime scene investigation at request of police chief.
Watch at bunch of newbies in blue waggle their nightsticks around the room acting police'y.
Attend police intern training on report writing the same evening.
Shout at Koiboy because he has no concept of time.
Cram MD's down my gullet on the way back to campus.
Attempt to fall asleep during report writing training, it is 9:00pm after all.

Panic because fliers for Police Face to Face Forums are not created for Lentil Fesital.
Create fliers, get to Cougarcopies.
Cut fliers at home in the interest of saving money.

Get pissed because student gov. group decides not to fund next years forums.
Begin looking into other ways to fund forums.
Update 2 webpages.
Update bulletin boards in the hallway.

Boss gets sick, have to do the center meeting with new employee.
Pick up lunches ordered by boss for meeting.
Orient new employee.
Get IT to finally come up and look at computer section....it will be another month.
Meet with IT printer services to look at new printer software preventing free color printing from our computer lab.
Try and help new employee her ID and email.
ID received, email denied, has to be "sponsored now" by dept. Yet one more form.
Email assigned.
New employee cant log onto computer.
Back and forth with IT. It's a security issue. Must wait for tech to allow new user.

Attend Lentil Festival in 90 degree weather to hand out "we love our police" paraphernalia.
Hand out paraphernalia for 8 hours, smiling, shaking hands and acting like I give a big fucking damn.

Then the weekend.
Ahhhhhhhh.

Ahhhhh Blinkin'...bitch much?!?!?!

Get Your Freak On

2009-08-12T09:13:00.000-07:00

You would think that I would be back in the blogging groove by now, but truth is I just can’t seem to find the damn time! I will confess, I took last week off from work, but only on the condition I just “unplugged” no computer, no cell phone, no logging into work from home…nothing. And I did get 3 books read and some things done around the house, but mostly just caught up on rest, because I can tell this year is going to be just one of those years. Albeit, nothing can top last year and all its awesome audited-ness and personnel crap. Let’s just say I seem to have gotten on the bad side of a pagan practicing person, but only because her duties were being dumped in my lap, (not at my request) but because she was also being dumped by the university. She had to blow at someone, and I say, what better way to take out your anger and frustration than in the safe place of friendship, you know, because that’s always well deserved.

Now don’t get me wrong, Im not out to judge pagan practices, it’s just something that I personally don’t prescribe to, and quite frankly it freaks me out a bit given my strong Baptist, Messianic Jewish, Evangelical, Protestant and church of the month upbringing. But thanks to my Jewish and Quaker friends I remain curse free. What better friend’s can you ask for than those that are willing burn objects on their property for you? And to add to the freakiness, many ravens showed up for the burnin’, out of nowhere. And while we joked about it, I confess, I was waiting for the Blairwitch to come jumping out of the fire. So hopefully I can put that year behind me and not look back. Onward and upward.

The students are expected back in 11 more days. Freak out, doesn’t adequately cover it. This summer just dissolved before my eyes and now Im desperate to cram all those things I should have been doing during the summer into these last few weeks. Yes, I meant to get out and walk each week…didn’t happen, so am now cramming hour long walks into every single evenings to make up for it. Yes, I meant to get the garage cleaned out, we did manage that, but then filled it back up again when we emptied the shed. Yes, I did intended to clean the house thoroughly from top to bottom, but….well good God, I’m not superwoman. Some shit will just never happen.

The neighbors across the street are selling their house so we feel sort of obligated to keep ours up a little more than usual. Don’t ask me why, we are just freaks like that. They did have a new baby, and I often find myself peering through the shears of our big front window like I’m watching a zoo exhibit. The new baby coming home, family coming over, Dad sitting out on the patio with baby for the first time, first walk with the stroller, etc. Maybe Im mentally checking off all those firsts we never got to experience and feeling sorry for myself. I must say, that bringing home your own child is much less chaotic than 3 foster children showing up at 3:00 in the morning. Peace, joy and a sense of accomplishment just does not lend its self to those type of situations. Those seem to come after all the little freak outs and unstable behavior, if at all. I must say, Im addicted this crazy life I have constructed for myself. Without it, I would be bored and you would have nothing to read about…..as sporadic as it is. But I will try and be better.

Watch Blinkin pump up the Jam so her inner freak be dancin’…

Home on the Range

2009-07-30T10:03:00.000-07:00

So we are back from our Montana trip. As with all family gatherings we ran ourselves ragged and dodged as much drama as possible. It’s always easier when my older brother comes in to town because all focus falls on him. And it’s always interesting to see what “I’m so smart” book my mother will display to impress my Princeton PhD brother and sister in law – both rocket scientists. One year it was “E=MC2”, another year it was the “How Round Is Your Circle? Where Engineering and Mathematics Meet” by some Princeton scientists, this year it was “The World is Flat” something about the economy and how the internet is leveling the economic playing field. All of this from someone who doesn’t know how to look up the Helena Mt. Vigilante Parade route on google. Personally I think she should write her own book about “How an orange fell out of the apple tree.” Anyway, it’s funny to watch. She’ll read passages to my sister in law, who looks at me with “help!” written all over her face.

And yes, I did say Vigilante parade. It’s Montana where the concept of cowboys and Indians are very much alive. It was pretty lame, in the past there were more floats with hangin’s, pop guns and dead white boy Indians with arrows stuck in their armpit…although I was not aware that cowboys actually shot arrows, so why the Indian lay there with an arrow I don’t know. Friendly fire I guess. It’s such an un-PC parade, but again, it’s Montana. Oh, mommy dearest did do a Montana. My sister in law and I were talking about how to cook collard greens and my mom piped in with this:

“What you should do is give your collard greens to a black person. Im sure they will know how to cook them and they probably don’t have the land to grow them.”

Now there are times when I will engage and times when I just have to walk away. This was a walk away time. The “OMG” look on sister in laws face, and the serious look on my mom’s face was just too much. I know it would have opened a huge can of worms I didn’t want to swim in at that moment. I came so close to telling my beloved faux jew mommy dearest that not only was that so utterly wrong to say, but I know a person that can cook greens to beat the band, she’s not only a white southerner but she’s real Jewish ….AND she’s a lesbian. Booyah! Probably would not have gone over very well, so I just walked away to fight again another day.

We did try and sneak in a mini vacation. We went home through Glacier. While walking on a trail, a mountain goat leapt up right in front of me not 5 feet away. We had seen some earlier on the road and stopped to get some pics. People are so crazy when it comes to wildlife. It’s like all sense of safety boundaries fail and they will knock each other over for a photo op. Yes, let’s put our 5 year old on top of the buffalo shall we? Or better yet, “Yank it’s tail to see what it will do honey!!” It reminds me of a Far Side cartoon of a group of laughing animals gathered around a camp fire doing impressions and a deer says, “Oh wait! Here’s one… a man lost in the woods!” with his paws up to his face like he’s going to scream. Im sure we look utterly stupid to wild life. An open top tourist bus stopped and I swear it was like watching Meerkat Manor. People popped up out of the top with their camera’s, I wished really hard for a wack ‘em hammer to see if they would pop back up.

But we are now back home, found our our AC went out while we were gone. And as per Murphy’s Law, it happens during the hottest time of year. Our house sitter kind of creeped us out. Apparently he was reading the bible in front of the TV, but also watching The Mummy, Harry Potter etc movies, and he greased our squeaky back door. Strange. But it’s good to be back home, nothing’s changed, still tired and still wishing for a real vacation.

The Fun Never Ends

2009-07-21T08:35:00.001-07:00

So just how much fun can one have on the Snake River in a boat filled with a "she's all that" sister inlaw, a 54 year old teenager and a licensed pot smoking kick your ass if you look at me funny woman. Let me tell ya, LOADS!!!

First of all there was all this brouhaha, about us being there at 9:00 sharp on Sunday morning so we could get started early. We were there, THEY were just dragging their asses out of bed because She's all that (SAT)decided at midnight the night b efore she was going out to the bar, and god forbid you party around Easyrider and potmama without inviting them. So off to the bar they went until 2:00am. Sounds like they had a great time. While SAT cage danced on the pole (keep in mind here Dad was there) while kissing guys and girls, Easyrider and potmama had have the dance floor. They thought it was because they had the moves and everyone was impressed. We pretty sure it was because they look like bikers and the campus young un's took one look at their coke notched noses, home done prison tats and skull tee's and just parted the waters to keep their distance.

In all fairness, if you can stand the embarrassing behavior, (like potmama yanking the 300 Ilb African American DJ over his spin table by the front of his shirt and yelling in a smokey growl, "I want some AC DC!"....and he actually plays it, even if he had to run out and buy the disc!) they are a fun time. You just have to have an escape plan and one foot out the door when the shit goes down. And it always will.

As for the boating day? It really was nice to get out on the water...finally. SAT was hung up on going to the "cliffs" where it's so much fun to hang out with her friends and had tweeted and Facebooked everyone to be their, cause she had a boat!! But we decided to go through the loch first and head downstream to the "dunes", where all the other cool people hung out. Now I say boat like it's some cool shiny speeder, but no one in our group was born when this boat was built. And it had a special hand paint job that was wearing off and a big ole' suburban backseat for sitting on in the back...ash tray's and all, all pulled by an 85 Scottsdale pick up. So we roll up on the dunes and the cool people's pretty boats, and strangely enough the waters parted once again and SAT decided it was time to break out the bikini. Here's a hint: When one's muffin top is more like a souffle, one should not wear a mini bikini that says "Baby Phat" across the butt. Just don't do it.

Potmama kept turning around and asking me if I saw any Aunt Flow puke on her pants yet, (oh yummy) and Easy rider managed to drink 10 beers. Course after 4 mojito's and Mike's I really didn't care if Aunt Flow spewed and Baby Phat danced in my face. It was a great time and we managed to make it back safely and stayed out of jail.

Yesterday was Easyriders Bday. And we found this perfect card:

They will be here until Thursday, and Koiboy is taking off today for a business trip. I must confess,I do have a meeting, but feigned the ending time so that I could just be at home alone in the quiet eating cake instead of roaring off to the Lewiston Casino for more fun and adventure.

After all, how much fun can a person take?

Shaken and Stirred

2009-07-17T16:25:00.001-07:00

Ok, so Im the worst blogger in the world. A tease….did she blog? Did she not blog? Why isn’t she blogging!?! Blog damn it blog!!

Seriously, I have just been uber busy. I had to move my office, yet again and summer is fast disappearing and I have miles and piles of work to get done. Wah. So Im truly looking forward to Koiboy’s redneck, pot smoking, it’s all good, learn ya sumthin’ stepdad (easy rider) and girlfriend Miss. AC DC) for a billion years coming over this weekend. Oh joy.

They are loading the boat and driving across the state. Maybe he will get paid for his time off, maybe not, doesn’t matter they pay him under the table anyway. Besides, they went to the casino won 1400.00 so that will pay for it. Oh and by the way, Miss AC DC’s ( a grandmother at the tender age of 39 and all of her children have done time already) son went to court, got sentenced for a month in county for traffic violations, freaked out, tried to run out of the court, got 5 feet and went “oops” and got an additional sentence to prison for a year for that stunt while the police swarmed in and the alarms were going off. And all this in one phone call.

I just pray they will stay over at Koiboy’s sister’s house/trailer. She facebooks, “My house is being remodeled and it’s so beautiful!” House my ass, it’s a trailer. Not that there is anything wrong with a trailer, but don’t act like your getting an extreme home makeover. And all they did was replace some subflooring and slapped a roll of linoleum over it. Whoo. Besides if they stay over there, they won’t be lighting up in my backyard. And seein that I work with the police A LOT, it would be bad to have them show up on our doorstep all because the Deliverance Family next door got jealous and called it in. Both campus and city police chiefs would never let me live that down. I can see it now, every time someone said the word ‘joint’ they would snicker and look at me. On the other hand if Miss AC DC is smart enough, she will bring her Mary Jane medical papers and they could get away with it.

Once we went boating with them, and toward s dark, I went with AC DC to the bathrooms, she stumbled as she came out the door and her baggie flipped out of her pocket and landed at the feet of the Sheriff. Be bent over, picked it up and asked, “Ma’am is this yours?” And while she straightened up and answered, “Yes sir” I was busy behind her doing the James Bond: I’ll vault over those bushes, shove that little kid out of the way on the wharf, jump into that dudes boat, high power it across the little lake and oh luck!! Is that an Aston Martin across the way with the keys in the ignition and pop out machine guns? Im saved!!! If all else fails, I’ll do the “I speaka no engrish!” Rather I was doing the oh shit oh shit oh shit dance behind her. I can’t remember. But she produced her papers, he read them, looked at the baggie and said, “Well Ma am, in my 10 year of being in law enforcement, this is the first time I have ever had to say this, here’s your pot back Ma am and have a great evening!” He handed it back and she tottered her way back to the campsite. I think I did a dead ass faint into the bush…I don’t recall.

So if anything it will be adventuresome. Or I’ll end up drowning myself in the Snake River because the boat police decide to show up while their busy smoking drinking and boating. No one will see me slip over the edge of the boat. It will be like I was never there…..

Blinkin…..Winkin Blinkin.

Drop Zone

2009-07-06T13:44:00.000-07:00

So yeah, I have been absent for a few, er…many days just processing through some stuff. Processing sounds so robotic and unfeeling, but again, yeah, that is how I roll. Everything is a process, just get through it and the sun will come out tomorrow. So what am I process you ask?

You know how life has that was of psyching you out, thinking that “aha! I am done with processing that!” then BAM, it sneaks up behind you and shoves a brick load of the same shit into your back luggage rack? Yeah, that’s what happened to me. Im moving, Im grooving, fiscal year is over, they may reclassify me, the yard and house are getting done and then last Wednesday at work I get this call from Mary, our former foster kids foster mom. This was not a problem, as she said, “My friends don’t have these kinds of problems with their kids, so who else can I talk to?” Oh yeah, let’s pick the people who were only foster parents for a little over a year to the same kids and have retired. Seriously, I understand her needed to talk to me so we chattered away. Then she casually said, “I just want these problems to be taken care of soon, so that we can finish adopting them.” KABLAM! Ole’ lifey just dropped a brick house onto my luggage rack. So they are being adopted. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m completely and utterly happy for them and can think of no better family to adopt them. Knowing they will be out of the foster care system and doing well is a load off my mind.

But as Koiboy and I talked about, it just serves to point out some blaring, what we call failures on our part. Not to mention it truly is a closing of a chapter. I think that secretly we harbored some daydream that we would be able to adopt them someday, and as long as they were in foster care, we could still think very loosely of them as “our kids”. And having made the decision to not adopt at our age, mainly for monetary reasons, this truly is the shutting of the last door. There is no more daydreaming and envisioning a different life. It’s done.
So we packed our guilt bags and headed for a vacation at Bummersville…for the whole weekend. And like trapped dogs in a cage, it was hard not to turn on each other. And most of our heated discussions, (arguments) usually ended up with one of us smart assing the other and laughing.

Me: “Look, I hate, hate making all the decisions around here”
Koi: “You don’t!”
Me: “Do so! I wish you would just drop a pair and make a decision for a change”
Koi: *(grunt and a short squat) “There, I dropped a pair, happy? I decide that you’re being bitchy!”

At this point I had to leave the room so he could not see me laughing, cause we all know that ground lost in an argument is ground never regained.

So on and on it went and quite frankly, Im exhausted. In the end it will be a good thing. We need to finally put to rest this part of our lives and move on. It’s just that I thought I had and now have discovered how stupidly wrong I was. And I hate being wrong…..and making all the decisions.

So just had to drop out for a little while….along with a couple of other things. I guess I was being a wee bit bitchy.

When Opportunity Comes Mocking

2009-06-29T10:42:00.000-07:00

Well, here I sit, end of the fiscal year, balances in the black and now working on my job description so they can reclassify my for all the extra work I have taken on. This is as much fun as a hot poker up the ass. On one hand I want to list every tiny little detail because Im pissed that I had to clean up the fiscal mess (Which I didn’t make) and I want someone to know about it damn it. On the other hand, I don’t want to be a braggart. But does it really matter? In the long run, they will do what they want to do, classify me where they want to and all the work I put into my description will be reduced to a simple sentence like: “Other duties as assigned”. It will probably take at least 2 months before I see any results and I do believe that retroactive is not in HRS’s vocabulary. Nevertheless, I will shoot for the stars and expect the bottom of the sea.

I did determine one thing this weekend, as I sat looking at the big dipper and eating a lime popsicle, that kids, if anything, are good for breaking that workaholic mentality. At least with kids on the weekend, you have some reason, whether you bitch about it or not, to get out of the house, ride your bike, go to the mall, play in the park or do something completely inane and unnecessary. Without kids, you have the absurd thought that idle hands are a devils’ playground and one must keep busy in order to ‘count’ in society since you’re not donating to the procreation cause. So we work. We don’t think to do picnics, hike, take the dogs down to the river let alone that an exploratory step out of town. For some reason we have lost all sense of adventure when the world presents every opportunity to get out there. We make excuses, money, time, get things done so that someday we will just be able to sit back and enjoy it. But that someday never comes….at least if your married to Koiboy. He’s got projects hidden in every crease of his brain. I swear I will be 80 (should I live that long) and Mr Fix It will be up on the ladder with a newly reconstructed hip, arthritis and blind in one eye scraping the popcorn ceiling at the old folks home because he hates it. I miss adventure, no matter how small or how big. And I mean adventure as in finding someplace cool to explore, not wringing your hands nervously as the police drive by, hoping his window is closed while your inlaws are passing the pipe in the backyard. Adventure! My half constructed kingdom for adventure!!

Maybe Im just being bitchy because my allergies were so nasty this weekend working in the yard. I took double the allergy medicine and still my nose ran like a faucet. Sniff, sniff, nosebleed, sniff. I finally got so fed up with it, I crammed a wad of Kleenex up each nostril and went back to work….don’t worry we were in the backyard. But it worked. And I wonder why Koiboy doesn’t look at me with desire anymore……. No adventure there.

So my assignment is to take the opportunities (preferably free) the world has to offer. Reclassify my ass as a pirate and have an adventure or two.

Alrighty then….

Uhhhhhhh, any suggestions as where to start?

Breathe

2009-06-24T09:10:00.001-07:00

Yes, Im still alive. I've just got to get through this last push for the end of the fiscal year. What an effing mound of craziness this last year turned out to be. For those not in the know, (and now it's a matter of public record so I can talk about it) we have been under a year long audit, only to find that our former director committed forgery, fraud, major misuse of student funds, willful destruction of state records and basically did whatever the hell she wanted with money. In the end we lost 2 people out of our office and the new director and I got to clean up the mess. And believe me we cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. But now it looks like we are coming to the end and I could not be happier.

In spite of all the crap, it looks like we are going to be in the black and in the good. Whew. My life will return to some semblance of normal and perhaps I will be able to get back on the blogging train with humor in tact. Right now? My humor seems to be tied up and gagged in some deep trunk at Hogwarts...sans wand. Perfect.

Birthday Blues

2009-06-16T11:46:00.000-07:00

It’s just been one of those weeks…and it’s only Tuesday. Yesterday I was sooo tired, depressed and on the verge of weepy. And believe me I am anything but a weeper. I grew up in one of those “never let them see you cry” type of homes. Crying was not allowed, and if it was due to oh say, our cat dying, the timer was set and you were allowed to cry for ½ an hour, after that, life went on and you had to go with it. So weepy is not really in my stash of emotions. But nonetheless, yesterday there I was. Then I realized it was Princess Amidala’s 13^th birthday. And even though she has been out of our foster home for a year and a half now, for some reason it really resonated with me this year. Last year I think I was still in an emotional “your not only childless, but by choice you failure!” mode so it didn’t register.

Thirteen. She was 10 going 20 or 8 depending on the day when they moved her and her brother into our home. And while she lived with us, she wanted so badly to be adopted by us. If fact, her wish for her 13^th birthday was to be adopted by us. She was even making plans back then. A trip to Silverwood adventure park, shopping in Spokane, a huge teenage slumber party and being adopted. All I could do was let her dream but make no promises and tell her I hoped her 13^th would be fun no matter where or who she was with. For her 11^th, we did what we could. That was the first Birthday party she was able to have friends over for a slumber party ever. Apparently when Chester the Child Molester lives in your home privacy is a big deal. So she finally got to have friends over, they bowled, had cake and talked about Zach and Cody and giggled themselves to sleep. So for some reason the empty quiet house was a little hard to bear yesterday. So we ate pizza, watched Heroes and went for a walk and just didn’t talk about it.

We went to see the movie UP last week, and quite frankly it brought us down. It’s a good thing there were only 4 people in the theatre, (Thursday early show) When they showed the getting married, creating a nursery, at the doctors getting bad news and the woman sitting alone looking sad and lost montage I almost lost it when Koiboy reached over and patted me on the arm. I know it’s a message about starting adventure in your life no matter how old you are and that was my take away. So out came the plans of going to Italy and Greece, finishing projects around the house so we can just enjoy it and talk about sponsoring a Filipina child, all the while conscious of the heaviness in our heart.

We’re getting there. I don’t expect to win the infertility race without stumbling over a lot of hurdles. And maybe there is no end. But like all things, it’s the journey that matters. We just have to remember we were parents for a little while, and even though they may not be with us now, it should not stop us from thinking of them, wishing them a happy birthday in our hearts, hoping each year brings them closer to a real family and cherishing those memories we do have.

It’s just that some day’s it’s simply hard.

Dueling Banjo's

2009-06-09T08:11:00.001-07:00

Im home today with Pink Eye of all things. Pisses me off. That's one of those childhood sickness, your not supposed to get as an adult! Unless of course you have kids. God knows our foster kids came up with double pink eye, ear infections and everything else under the sun typhoid Mary-ied it to us. But we have no kids, so WTF? The only person I came in contact with yesterday was a student handing in a book to our women's library. I did note she had really red eye's but I just thought "pot" like the stereotyper that I am. Now the Stereotype Gods have bitten me in the ass and blessed me with pink eye. So Im home, feeling fine, wearing my dreaded glasses, (which I hate only because as a Filipino, I have no bridge on my nose to hold them up, so they rest on my cheeks, course having chipmunk cheeks doesn't help either.) and looking forward to a day of rest. Its a nice day and maybe I'll just take my anti Alzheimer's coffee out and sit and enjoy the pond. Apparently coffee is good for you. I like coffee, I just hate the coffee breath and slime tongue. Of course I have to trick my coffee out with cream and sugar, I suppose that doesn't help. But at the advice of nurse in training Miss Parfait, (eve-body luv's paarfait!)it will help against Alzheimer's.

So Im hoping it will be a quiet day. Especially outside. On one side we have the Jackass Barnum and Bailey Circus. They just put up a trampoline in the backyard. Not a problem, I like a good bounce every now and then, but now the entire neighborhood kid population is over there screaming and daring each other to break their necks. Their son is an adrenaline junkie at age 10. And when he's not skateboarding off the roof he out devising some sort of ultimate slip and slide over the rose bushes. His mom just yells at him, "I'll kick your butt if I have to take you to the hospital!!" Nice.

We have new neighbors next door on the other side and more kids. Only we affectionately refer to this family as the Deliverance Family. Some Appalachian Mountain is missing a family somewhere. The kids are fine for the most part. They play confederate soldiers and guns, who can shove what down the other underwear quite nicely until the mother steps out, and she is usually out with them. "Landon! Landon! Was that nice? Do we do that to Abbey!?!?" "Landon, what did I just tell you!! You are going into time out if you don't stop!" (He never goes) "Landon!" "Landon!" "Landon!" Egad! Poor kid. They amp it up for her attention when she's out there and all she does is yell at them. The Dad is NEVER out there, until there is company, and suddenly it goes from, "You little shit!" to "Hey buddy!" Lest we forget hearing the mother sing a song using the words, "I want to tan like a Mexican" only to have it repeated by her daughter as second later, which prompted a screech, "Abby! Do you know what that means?!?!? It means Mexican's skin are brown because they tan a lot. You shouldn't say those things, your too little!" uhhhhhhh...what? They talk about the "ricer" Subaru car, he's got all tricked out that they hide in the garage so the po-po won't repo it, and apparently all of their kids are fuckin' retarded. Like I said, Deliverance Family.

So, Im hoping the kids are in school and the mom's out tanning while dishwasher boy is running around in his ricer so I can enjoy the sound of quiet, running water and the birds. But at the first sound of banjo's Im taking my stereotyping party inside.

The End of the Fecal Year

2009-06-05T11:11:00.000-07:00

Ahhh Friday. Koiboy’s mother may or may not be coming into town. I don’t know. He’s not going out of his way to talk to her and vice versa, so we may have a surprise guest this weekend. Although, in all probability, she will stay with his half sister instead. I will hope for the latter. Not that I don’t mind her coming….well, Ok maybe I do a little, but after this week of fiscal hell I want a weekend of Mike’s hard lemonade and movies. It’s supposed to rain, so no yard work. Yeah! And we are supposed to be heading over to visit some of our lovely friends on Saturday. ( I know they read this blog, so now they are beholden to it! HA HA Melynda and Joan). (That’s Joan Opyr author of Idaho Code and To Hell and Breakfast…shameless plug)

Basically one of our fiscal people is one of those aggressive chipper cheerleaders. You know, the ones that do everything with a “Do it or I’ll kill you” clenched teeth rah rah smile? Everything has to be done NOW or the whole fiscal world will melt as we know it. Im more like, give it time to clear, they are already backed up in accounts payable, they know they have to have it all done by June 30^th, so JACK DOWN Sistah!! But being in the pissed on point of the hierarchy, I must make calls to businesses and gently remind them to get their Purchase Orders turned in to payment before the end of the fiscal year. Kiss Kiss. Only to be met with, “We did, and you still have not paid us. Chump!” And so it goes. Did I mention my title is events coordinator? Not Events Coordinator, cum fiscal tech, cum webmaster cum PR manager. Just events coordinator. Argh.

Anyhoo, I’m trying to find a time when Koiboy and I can fit in a vacation this summer. Camping always sounds like so much fun, but usually when we get there it’s noisy, (because we are in a campground and not in the middle of BFE….fear of bears and shitting in the woods for all to see) and a lot of work, but the whole no computer, TV, fresh air and campfire thing does have its appeal, and $8.00 for a camping spot vs. 90.00 for a hotel? It really should be no contest. But thoughts of a nice bed you don’t have to make, a good restaurant around the corner and room service sometimes over rules all else. But I have a feeling camping it will be. Plus we can bring our dogs. Nothing like being stuck in a nylon dome, hair stinking like campfire with a bunch of snoring, usually muddy, furry crap machines. So we will have to find some time to get out of Dodge and breathe a little.

In the meantime, I hear a Mike’s calling my name. Maybe I can catch up on my facebooking a little too. Im sure there is some pithy thing I have to comment on from an old high school acquaintance that has suddenly become my best friend on face book 20 years later when we didn’t even talk back then. Such is the way of facebook.

Have an excellent weekend, stay away from all things fiscal and enjoy.

The Way We Roll

2009-06-01T11:33:00.000-07:00

Sorry I have been so lackadaisical in my blogging. My parents were over for 5 days. FIVE DAYS! Needless to say, I just needed some breathing room to zen, work out some frustrations in the yard and buy more toilet paper.

Yes toilet paper. Let me explain. For some reason, every time my parents come over there is some area in which we end up going overload. Last year I bought a Cyrus OLeary's chocolate creme pie for dessert when they came over. Good pie, not the best, but pretty dang tasty. By the time they had left, 2 days later, we had steamed through 5 pies. FIVE PIES!! Because they liked one, why not try them all! Why not. And, I am certain I do recall correctly, I only had 3 pieces as did Koiboy. While they didn't eat ALL of them, we ended up throwing out the rest. I made skewers as per her request. (Usually she comes with a menu of things she likes that I make, ordered several days before their arrival) She liked them so much, we ended up eating them 3 times. 1 cream pie, 1 lbs of cream cheese stuffed strawberries, and 1 lbs of chocolate dipped strawberries and pineapple later, they left. I think they did nothing but eat dessert while they were here. Menu be damned.

As for the toilet paper? I didn't even want to speculate. 3 rolls in 3 1/2 days for two people. They had the upstairs bathroom. THREE ROLLS?!?! Who goes through 3 rolls in 3 days? Honestly, I didn't hear the toilet flushing all the much. Koiboy did say dad took out the bathroom trash...ew. And besides the match stick residue in my soap dish, (yes, mommy dearest is an old school light a match matron) I can't find a clue as to where our TP went. She's done the change, (TMI) so where of where did it go? Now, like you, I too thought "Well heaven's to Betsy, anyone who can eat 5 pies, surely must shit a metric ass load." But she was not in the bathroom all that much. Trust me, I know. When not fixing her highness the next meal, she has me glued to her side for special mommy and daughter talk. Lovely. So where did that TP go?

I can only conclude my mommy dearest decided to steal TP from us. Actually, that is the only direction I will allow my mind to go. Perhaps she liked the cottony softness, the strength of the two ply, or the way it delicately releases from the roll when it begins. WHO KNOWS? I will just pretend they are cheap and in dire need of TP. And I know I heard her getting up at 3:00 in the morning, creaking around looking at all my shit. Maybe I have a Klepto for a mom. All I know I was happy to see them motor home. Not that is was a bad visit. I only got the "You must tithe" lecture for 1/2 an hour. She was even nice enough to bring brochures and self address envelopes of good companies she thought would be suitable for "my ideals". You know, I'm a Democrat, one of "those" people.

So the morning after they took off, Koiboy and I flung off our "Yes, we really are going to work after you leave" clothes, jumped in the truck and headed for the nearest mountain. Which in Pullman can take an hour. We loaded the truck with as many rocks as we could find, sweating out the demons and throwing stones as if they were boulders feeling the fresh air in our lungs. and this is the result. A backyard pond nearing completion built on blood, sweat and missing toilet paper. And that's no crap.

Memories, Blight the Corners of my Mind.

2009-05-20T23:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, more photos. But this is what I mean.....if you look at every family photo Sandy put us in the same pose, everyone in the same place ad nauseam. It's not bad, it's a little Groundhog dayish.

But here is the whole fam. My faux jew mommy dearest, my Princeton PhD Spock brother, my crazy & big Nascar luvin 'little brother' and my dad, sans Elvis sideburns. Not a motley crew, but it's family. This was at my 3rd, (yes 3rd and last I might add) wedding to Koiboy, not present in photo. If you haven't guessed, Im the short one in the front wearing the just bought 1 day ago at Ross dress. Apparently I demanded less as a bride as I progressed through life, or got lazy. Probably the latter, and I hate shopping.

But this is my fave. and is indicative of my childhood. Dad with his sideburns, and comb over part. Big Brother (little shorts) spock, 'little' brother wearing a hat as usual, mom with her big glasses and me in front sporting my popped collar, sweater over the shoulder, kind of Pretty in Pink hair doish, looking cooler than everyone else striking the pose.

And lest we forget, see no evil, hear no evil and totally evil...still strikin' that pose.

The Hive Do

2009-05-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

Okay, as per my last post, here's the beehive on request. Me and my brothers only, I cant find the one of me and my mom. I will have to go through some albums to see what else I can find.

Don't laugh.....is that laughing I hear??? Who's Buzzing?!?! Stop that!

I Am the Cheese

2009-05-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

I think that this: http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com has become my new favorite website. You don’t know how tempted I am to post my family’s photo from 1974. The one were my mom thought it would be cool to have matching beehive hair dos. I totally rocked that beehive too. And quite honestly have had big hair problems ever since. In fact, I would be happy for the 80’s to return, when teasing your hair until if fell out was in. I seriously think the major depletion of the ozone occurred due to hairspray at that time too. Even now I’m a screaming banshee when it comes to my fly away hair. I do not possess the slick shiny stick straight hair of the northern Asians. I got the equator pacific islander thick as a mop and kinks up like pubes as you get older and grayer hair. Fun.

Really I hated family photos for obvious reasons. Im sure everyone has those photos that make you laugh like crazy. My dad had Elvis sideburns into the 90’s and my older brother sported the spock cut until college. Mom always made it a point to pull out her bling bling. She would tell the rest of us to dress nice and casual, and she would show up with her 5 carat garnet dinner ring, diamond necklace and earrings, (compliments of QVC) and the brightest red shirt you can find. Actually the red shirt is a recent thing since she discovered she was actually Scottish and not Irish. Apparently when you have a Scottish complexion red is your best color. As opposed to the green she use to wear. My ‘little’ brother is the only blond haired one and at 6’5 he was hulking around in the back scowling or he would refuse to remove his NASCAR cap. I was always stuck up front draped over my mom’s shoulder like some brown accessory. Every other year we have Christmas at home and every other year, Sandy our friendly family photographer is tasked with the every growing Gilleland Clan family photo. We’ve grown up with Sandy. She has been taking our photo since we moved to Montana. And after she left the much beloved Olin Mills, she continued with her own private studio. Every prom, graduation, and my first wedding, Sandy was there. Someday she will probably pop that puppy on auto, run around the camera and sit on my dad’s lap for the big cheese. Who knows. In fact, I may just ask her to do that next time we’re home for Christmas for the yucks. Short of giving my Dad a heart attack, we would probably all laugh. Well, at least I would. And that photo, may just end up on that web site. Little kids crying, little brother scowling arms crossed in the background, Dad with a big surprised look, Mom with an even more surprised looked, older brother throwing up the live long and prosper gang sign, and me draped over my mom’s shoulder and all her bling bling, smugly smiling at the camera. Beauty.