that joe

September 8, 2006

I'm Growing a Human

So, funny story.

Joe and I quit trying to have a baby sometime during last year since it didn’t seem to be working out too well. Add to that the fact that my PCOS seems to not really ever give me a clear picture of when I’m going to have my period or when my period is actually happening, since it can start and stop over the course of a few weeks, just in time to start again, and you can see why we are sort of, no, really surprised to find that we’re expecting a human in about 7 months.

Are you ready for the cliché moment?
I thought I had some kind of bug that was going around.

But one night, after being sick on and off for about two weeks, we went out with a friend and my glass of wine tasted weird. And then the next morning, when my stomach wasn’t really upset and I should have been able to eat breakfast fine, the coffee made me want to hurl. And then I was suspicious. Because, dude. I like wine and coffee.

I took a home pregnancy test. And then I did 5 more, different brands, because I kept not believing it and thought that somehow, I was getting all the broken ones and the next one, the REAL one, would tell me I wasn’t. But it didn’t happen.

Last week, I was spotting and having lower backaches, which historically for me has been a sign of impending miscarriage. But by Thursday, that was all gone and in it’s place is this completely irrational emotional behavior, which I guess was rearing it’s ugly head as early as last weekend when I freaked out over the BBQ. It went something like this:

Me: Devon, we need eggs! Go get some eggs!
The world as we know it will end if I don’t have eggs to make potato salad!

Joe: Dev says he has to finish putting together the BBQ so he doesn’t want to go.
Why are my wife’s eyes so wide open? Is that foam on the side of her mouth?

Me: But I need eggs!
Why aren’t you offering to go get the eggs? Don’t you love me??

Joe: Well, what do you need the eggs for?
uuuuuuhhhhh?

Me: What do mean? I want to make potato salad!
How dare you ask me what I need eggs for?? I NEED EGGS!!!

Joe: *sigh* I guess I could go.
*SIIIIIIIGHHHHHHHH*

Me: You know what? Forget it! I don’t need eggs. I just won’t make potato salad.
OH REALLY???? Oh, no you won’t. Not with that attitude, mister!

Joe: Seriously, I’ll go get some eggs.
Dude.

Me: NO! I don’t want eggs! It doesn’t matter!
Why are you trying to force me make potato salad?? Why do you hate me and treat me like a slave?

Joe: Leah. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here. Do you want me to go buy the eggs or not?
Who is this woman?

Me: I can’t believe you are asking me that! I can’t BELIEVE you don’t know what I want you to do!!!
He will never understand me! Our marriage is over!

Joe: Um…..I’m going to go upstairs for a minute.
I need space away from this demon woman.

Me: Oh, fine! Ok, kids. I guess we have to have our BBQ without Joe!
He hates me!

Even as the hyper-ridiculous verbiage was spewing out of my mouth, I knew it was dumb and making no sense! But my mouth – she just kept going. Joe came back downstairs in 3 minutes and helped the kids who were cowering in the corner to escape the room unnoticed where they all asked him what had happened to their mother. Yes, that day was super cool.

I can’t eat enough watermelon and the smell of chives makes me want to hurl. And if the store doesn’t have my favorite kind of shampoo, I will cry. I’ll also cry when my favorite pair of jeans is in the washer and I can’t wear them. And when the cell phone commercial comes on because that is just so sweet. And if there is any program on any station on the television that includes anything remotely connected to babies.

But not when I allow the sandwich bread to become soggy. No, in that case, I’ll just laugh and laugh and laugh. Until you wish I would cry and knock it off.

I suppose we could still lose this baby. Neither of us would be surprised because it has happened twice in the past few years. But we’re trying to project Positivity.

September 5, 2006

It Was the Best of Times

ACT I

The day started out late.
I was impatiently waiting for what seemed like hours, but what was in fact, hours, for the kids to come home. They had been scheduled to arrive the previous night but the call of a sleepover was stronger than fresh sheets on their own beds. And me.
My consolation prize of at least getting to fix them a breakfast feast was quickly dashed when they did not show up early as promised. The oldest one called and re-promised their arrival very, very soon.
Three hours later, when all the afternoon plans I had made were no longer viable due to travel times, ending times and general time constraints, they rolled in, all smiles and happy to see me. All was forgiven.

ACT II

We watched movies for a bit and packed a picnic lunch of hoagie sandwiches, veggies and chips. Departing at 4:30 wasn’t the original plan, or even the third plan, but it worked. We got in the car and drove to Little Tokyo. First stop, Kinokuniya book store, where they carry things like little erasers that smell like peaches and the tiniest colored pencil set you’ve ever seen. Oh, yes, and lots of Manga.
Our last stop was the Hollywood Forever Cemetery where we were going to sit in the graveyard on blankets, watch an old movie and eat our delightful picnic.
When we drove to the gated entrance, I got out to ask the nice man if we were at the wrong gate since there didn’t seem to be any other cars lined up to go in. The very nice man told me in a very nice way that we had the wrong night and everyone else had come yesterday.

ACT III

We decided to not waste our evening. We’d go to Griffith Park and eat our picnic there. I mean, at least we still had our dinner. It wasn’t the end of the world by any means. Yes, my daughter was upset that she had worn her way-too-short jean skirt and leggings for nothing and my son kept asking if we could hurry up, turn around and head back for a movie at the Cineplex and another son was very upset not to sit on top of dead people for a few hours, but I knew all of them were team players and were actually going to have a lot of fun. Ahem.
We found the park fine and unloaded the picnic to the nearest table, which was in the shade and close to the bathrooms. Score! We set out the food and I passed everyone a sandwich.
So, here is a little tip from me to you. When you pack the sandwiches in the cooler and then add ice, the ice will melt. And if you haven’t made sure that the sandwiches are in a watertight environment, the sandwich bread is going to get soaked. Like, totally soaked. And then? No one wants to eat their sandwich. Including me.
One child, after lovingly sharing his feelings about the soggy bread, created a healthy, low-carb version of the sandwich by wrapping the lunchmeat in lettuce. We foster an innovative and creative environment wherever we go.
Most of us ate cucumber slices and carrots.
I don’t like BBQ flavored potato chips.
I laughed quite a bit throughout the picnic. It wasn’t all sane sounding.
All in all, the picnic was a success since we all hate bread, anyway. Not really. I love bread more than chocolate.

ACT IV

Day two. Let’s go, people! We only have one day left of this weekend! Let’s have some fun! NOW!
What? My yelling and freaking-out overall demeanor is not really helping to cultivate fun?
What? You’re scared of me? Why are you cowering in the corner?
Let’s get the BBQ started!
After Joe, Dev and Ty got the BBQ put together, (and here is a bonus tip: $17 BBQs might not be the best purchase. I’m just sayin’.) I was excited to cook up the hamburgers. Yes, excited. Suddenly, I wanted grilled hamburger more than anything else in the entire world. RRRrrrrorr! Meat!
But first, we had to light the briquettes without lighter fluid, since I forgot to buy some.
Unfortunately, no one knew how to do that. We tried many ways including rolled up corrugated cardboard, a saturation of Jack Daniels and when I wasn’t looking – gasoline courtesy of an impatient son who is now lucky to only be missing his arm hair. Who also happens to be in big trouble. (Those two things are not exclusive.)
After dousing the five-foot wall of flaming briquettes and then cleaning out the BBQ as much as we could, we tried again. This time, with store bought lighter fluid. Amazing difference.
Did you know that you are supposed to wait for about 45 minutes after the briquettes finish burning before they are hot enough to cook with? I vaguely remembered something about that. But in my carnivorous state, craving cow flesh as I was, my brain was not what it could have been, and I put the meat on immediately. Where is continued to be raw for 15 minutes. And then we took them inside and fried them on the stove in a pan in the kitchen. In the meantime, two of the kids had left to other commitments and missed out on the burgers. They missed out on the FUN! of being with ME!
I know, right?

EPILOGUE

I wish I had some really awesome finish to this story, but I don’t. We watched The Abyss and White Men Can’t Jump. I freaked out a few more times over completely dumb things. They all continue to forgive and love me.
I am the luckiest person in the whole world.

August 24, 2006

Today I Am Here

I’m drove Joe to work, then Alex to see friends, then back to see Joe for lunch, then back to get Alex, then back again to get Joe and go home. Here is the drive on the map.

The coffee shop has free wifi and checkers.

There is lots of this stuff between Ojai and Fillmore.

But it sure is pretty in parts.

She looks happy, no?

August 2, 2006

Blogger Network

UPDATE: 8/4 1:00am: Joe has been cleaning up some code and doing general awesome things all over the place. I’ve gone through the database and tried to add and correct cities to those of you that had them pending since we had to break a few things to fix a few things. Ain’t that always the way? But if you used a different email to request the city than the one you used to sign up, I can’t match you and you’ll need to log in and do it yourself. Photography and Personal are both added as a focus. We rearranged the city/states. The search feature hasn’t been added yet but at least you can read through the cities now without wanting to rip your eyes out. Seriously, thanks for all your great feedback.

UPDATE: 8/3 1:10pm: I’ve had a few suggestions for putting the city name next to the person’s name or url. For example, when you are on the main BloggerNetwork page and are viewing the entire list of the last updated sites, you would be able to tell who belonged to which city before you clicked on their url. From a design perspective, I’m not sure how that looks. If any of you that are thinking along those lines wants to come up with a design to work it in, let me know. I’m happy to see any and all idea. This is turning into quite a community effort and I THANK YOU for you feedback and help. And, yes, I’ll be changing the way the cities looks and having them listed by state option and also alphabetical order option. But probably not today.

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UPDATE: 8/3 11:30am: Some of the cities are not showing up in connection to your urls. Troubleshooting now. You should not have to add your cities again or anything. But if you click on your city on the right and your url doesn’t show, just know I’m working on it. Thanks!

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UPDATE: 8/3 10:15am: (i know, right?) Don’t forget to log back into your account and add your city to your url once I get it listed.

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UPDATE: 8/3 10am: WOW! You guys totally rock! The list of cities is getting longer and longer. At some point, I might need to have only states listed on the right with a city dropdown. But we’ll be adding a search as well, and that might help you to find your city fastest. For those of you asking, ‘Hey! Where is said BloggerNetwork badge to put on my site?’ To you I say ‘Soon.’ And thank you for asking. But you can put a text link on your site now, if you want. KristyK suggested we add an icon for Photography and Suebob suggested a Personal category. Both great ideas and will be implemented soon. Thanks, everyone!

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UPDATE: 8/2 midnight: The issue is fixed. Please, resume the adding of your blogs and let me know if you find any other errors. Your info is now safe. If you signed up earlier tonight, please login to BloggerNetwork.org and update with a new password. Thanks!

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UPDATE 8/2 7pm: Schmutzie wins as the person to find the first bug. Thanks, Schmutzie! We’ll be back in a few hours when it gets fixed. Something about your personal information being important and all that crap…..

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I hate going on a trip to a new city and not knowing whom of my blogger friends lives there. What if I went all the way there and then all the way home and THEN found out that so-and-so lived there and we could have hooked up for drinks?

I had an idea for a simple and easy to use blog listing by city. Sure, at some point it could be shaped into something with groups, networking, an ad service and whatever else was wanted but the main thing I want it for – is for me. And you, if you want.

So, add your blog. Right now, my son and myself are the only ones there and we are a little lonely. Send suggestions for improvement. Tell me you want to work on the design. (Please! The design!) Tell me anything that comes to mind. Add your city! The San Diego listing will have a ton of names in it in a few weeks because we are going to migrate all the content from here to there. But, if you are already on SDB, go ahead and sign up anyway. It will save me work, and that is totally cool. You can pick more than one city if you so desire. That is mostly for me as well, since I want to claim Los Angeles and San Diego and figured other people might be like me. (what? no?) You can also put in little, tiny (so cute!) icons by selecting up to three areas of focus and also, rss, atom and anything else you can think of to make yourself appear as geeky as possible. Again, mostly for me so I know what you’re talking about and if we can be friends. Also, if you are an anonymous blogger or prefer to use only your first name, totally fine. Just make sure your online published name is not your real, secret name. Capiche?

The whole point is so that I can come to your city and have a drink with you. What’s not to like?

PS. if you find kinks or bugs, please let me know.

July 31, 2006

Sweet Nothings

Exhausted both mentally and physically to the point of forgetting my own phone number and how to put on my shoes, snuggling with Joe was high on my priority list when I got home. It wasn’t until tonight that we both had the time and quasi-energy at the same time to attempt a snuggle-fest. We spooned on the bed, content to be together, and the sweet nothings ensued.

Me: What are you thinking about?

Him: Upholstery.

July 13, 2006

Possibilities

Where do I go from here? I can do anything I want. The possibilities are endless. This scares me the same way Super Wal-Mart scares me and (besides them being evil) why I don’t go there. I don’t want isles and isles of choices. I want 3 different kinds of blenders to choose from. I can handle that selection. But give me two isles of blenders from the itty, one cup version to the mongo, party sized one that also doubles as a cappuccino maker and Slip-n-Slide, I freeze. Too. Many. Choices. My brain shuts down and I stand there, drool slowly dripping out of the right corner of my mouth and a shhoooooooo noise emanating from my person.

If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?

This is the question doing brain things inside my head.

Joe is very happy with his new employment situation. I think I was hoping in a very small and selfish way that he would go for a week to a place far, far away, commuting and hating the heat, working for much less money per hour and then tell me, ‘Gee, honey, I really miss working with you. I had no idea how good we had it. I’m going to come back and work with you again and really give it my all this time!’ This has not happened. In fact, he is flourishing. He is working harder than I’ve ever seen him work. He has so much determination to get things done that I forget I was upset. But then I remember. But that is just my own shit and has nothing to do with him. Him? He’s doing great.

So, what do I want to do? I’ve been a fulltime artist, photographer and writer. I’ve been a fulltime Project Manager and Project Director. (Those must be capitalized?) And then I was a fulltime Web Developer and partner. Now I’m doing lots of those things part-time and really missing the connection of Doing Something.

I realize that anyone at any time can decide to change their life and vocation. Anyone. Any time. However, this break and subsequent vocation change has been thrust at me. Have I mentioned I’m a planner? I did not plan for this. I plan when to change the lint screen and when to rotate the socks. I am unprepared! Maybe this is bordering on mid-life crisis. It must be time to get my nose repierced, get a new tattoo and chain smoke cloves while reciting bad prose I wrote people-watching at the Getty.

I’ve been working on other people’s projects for years. Now I would like to work on my own. But I feel like I need a person, a sounding board, a partner. Someone that listens to my ideas and tells me that it sounds like a bunch of crap. Or not. Someone that tells me their ideas and we work on them together. Someone that wants to work in online networking. Someone that has some design skills and programming skills to compliment my own. Someone that wants to work with me. I don’t feel qualified to do everything on my own and I miss working with other people. And Leah just sitting and stewing in her own juice all day does not make a sweet stew.

At some point, Joe and I said we would be all of those things for each other. We would be a Power Couple and work together and build something great. Really great. It’s hard to let go of all those ideas and feelings. I’m sad about that. But working together has not been good for Joe and I. I’m a perfectionist. He’s not. I have a driving need to get work done at a rapid pace. He does not. We even have different definitions of integrity. As it turns out, we aren’t the same person. Who knew? In short, we drove each other crazy. And even with not having a car all day, since we only have one and he uses it to commute to Far Far Away, I feel better. The energy in the house is clearer. When he comes home, he doesn’t have to feel like he’s still at work and I don’t feel like I need to ask him where he’s at with a million different projects. If he wasn’t so tired from getting up so early and coming home so late, I’m sure we’d have lots to commiserate about. We’d cuddle and laugh. He’d rub my feet. I’d tell him the funny thing our pet spider plant did and he’d use the anecdote with his colleagues the next day around the water cooler. It would be good times.

The kids are around for the next week or so and there really isn’t anything to be done in the Figuring Out The Future venue while we are ‘vacationing’ together. But the thought sits there, in the director’s chair with ‘Leahpeah’ written on the back, at the fore.

June 30, 2006

Leaky Eyes

My eyes are leaking. Seriously. Leaking all over the place all week long. You know how after time passes you can talk about things with more perspective and it all makes sense? Well, that hasn’t happened yet. I’m still in the middle of it, I have no perspective, everything feels awful and that makes my eyes leaky.

If this were a movie, it would be the part where I shake my fist at the sky and scream, ‘Is that the best you can do? Bring it on!’ with my hair whipping in the wind, a wild look in my eye right before the earth opens up and I get swallowed whole. And then the chipmunks laugh uproariously, straighten their ties and go back to playing Yahtzee.

So, here’s the thing about codependent relationships = they suck, but they work. And you want them to change, but then when they do, you kind of freak out. I’ve been pleading with Joe to figure out what he wants out of his life since I met him. I am always the one with great ideas and I’m all up with the knowing what I want and everything. He has always just kind of gone along with my flow instead of knowing what his own was. And then he sits back and silently resents the hell out of me. And so I’m all, ‘Joe, just think really hard and figure out what you want out of your life. I will be so supportive!’ And in the meantime, I just keep doing what I need to do and taking care of myself, because you can’t change anyone else, anyway, all the while telling Joe that I will be SO supportive, just as soon as there is something to be supportive about.

Fast forward a couple of years, I’ve invested all of myself in ‘my great ideas’, he decides he needs something different and actually TAKES STEPS to change things. And the pain, ladies and gentlemen. The pain is excruciating. Joe is doing exactly the right thing, the thing I’ve even encouraged him to do, and it hurts so bad I want to rip my heart out.

You know that place where you know things are exactly how they should be and it hurts like hell? You would rather walk on cut glass than go through it but you know there is no other way? You feel all alone and you look around and wish someone was there with you, but when people try to help you tell them to shut up because there is no way they can understand how you feel? And you walk around with your eyes leaking everywhere for days? Yes, well, that’s me right now. Just call me Leaky Eyes.

I’m so proud of Joe. I can’t even tell you how proud I am of him. The proudness of him makes my eyes leak, too, just so you know. I’m watching him change and evolve and Become the person he wants to be. The decisions he’s making turn my world upside down. They make me have to reevaluate what I’m doing and figure out some things all over again. They make me angry. They make me uncertain. I have the strongest urges to say things to him that I never would have thought possible. I feel manipulation coming to the surface and in order to not give into those hurtful urges, I say nothing. I just leak out of my eyes. I can hardly believe it’s possible for anyone, ever, to change a codependent relationship because even though it’s what I’ve been asking him to do, I can’t stand it. I can’t even imagine if I was part of a couple where my partner started changing, I didn’t even realize there was a problem and I didn’t want him to. This sucks hard, but that would suck rockstar-style.

So, there will be no Oregon vacation this year, which over the past two days has set a record in eye-leakage. But next year, I could bet that this situation wouldn’t happen again because of the changes Joe is making. And that is something to look forward to. Heck, just being able to pay the bills is something to look forward to. You have no idea how not being able to pay the gas bill makes my eyes leak. It’s crazy.

June 22, 2006

Movie of the Week

I took Alex to see The Lake House. She liked it. I was a little bored since this was the second time I’d seen it. Although, that didn’t stop me from crying a little but that probably had more to do with my hormones and less to do with Keanu’s touching moment. The movie is pretty predictable and I knew what was going to happen about 5 steps ahead of the action* the entire movie. I’m not really surprised.

The first time I saw it, I went with Joe. It was Friday night. And you know what that means. Alas, I forgot for a second that every single freakin teenager within a 20-mile radius would be at the theater just because it’s Friday night. But even when I saw them all milling around outside, gathering in herds and carrying out their mating dances, I just didn’t think they would be in MY movie. I figured they go see The Omen or Tokyo Drifting Crap or something else that didn’t have some slow parts in the middle. So, imagine my surprise when we walked in midway though the previews to see the entire place packed. Except for two seats in the very front row on the very right side.

As we sat down in the sea of young females, we exchanged looks and made a pact with secret codes so that in case of emergency, if he made the correct hand signal and eyebrow lifting sequence, I would know to drag him out and contact life support.

About 10 minutes in, I could feel my neck starting to kink. The view from the front row is VERY LARGE. The view from the front and very most right seats is VERY LARGE and VERY SLANTED and VERY TO YOUR LEFT. I slouched down in my seat to give my neck a rest, which worked pretty well as long as I didn’t move because the girl behind me put her feet up on the back of the seat and her black flip-flops caught my hair. When I moved my head upwards, I lost at least a one-inch area of hair. And that happened three times, even when I turned around slightly to give her my ‘GET YOUR FEET OFF THE SEAT’ face, which anyone knows, I totally mean.

And then she started sneezing. And sniffing. And I no longer cared what was happening on the screen that I couldn’t really see that well anyway. Remember that kid in 4th grade that sat across from you in the quad-desk setup? That kid that hadn’t learned how to blow their nose yet so they sniffed sniffed sniffed SNIFFED sniffed all through class? Yes. That kid. And it was she, behind my seat. And lo, I was so far passed getting pissed that I laughed.

Joe nudged my arm and showed me that in his right hand he was holding napkins and he kind of motioned like he was going to give them to her. And I nodded my head vigorously in support. He turned slightly around, thrust the napkins her way and asked, ‘Need these?’ because going herself to get napkins or asking her friends that were sitting RIGHT NEXT TO HER with some in their laps just didn’t occur to her. The girl said, ‘Thanks!’ very enthusiastically, which made me think that maybe she was just a little slow and it actually hadn’t occurred to her that her nose was dripping down her shirt and I should quit being so mean. And then all the girls giggled. And whispered.

I think we totally ruined her weekend. She was probably planning on sleeping over at her friends house and her friend was all, ‘You can’t come over now because the two old people in front of you gave you napkins! You are such a tool!’ or something that I can’t fathom because I think we all know that I really don’t know the lingo…..

An aside here: does anyone else think that Sandra Bullock is looking more and more like the long lost daughter of Joan Rivers? Did she do something to her nose?

*I use the term ‘action’ in the most general sense of the word where it means that something, anything is happening, like breathing or talking or tying shoelaces.

June 19, 2006

I'm So Mad, I'm Laughing

I suck. I laugh at inconvenient times. Like when my husband is getting mad at me. But not strangers. Apparently, I only laugh when someone that I love and care about is getting angry at me and strangers? They can bugger off. I’ll return their looks and yells one for one and then somehow end up on top, walking away victoriously confident that I was just on the winning side of some serious hiney-spanking. This is, of course, if I can’t avoid the altercation all together. Which, I would seriously prefer since I promote LOVE, people, not hate.

But Joe and I have been going through our Stuff. Everyone has their Stuff and the past few months, it’s been our turn to empty out the closets and clean under the beds and ask serious questions like ‘When did I buy this shoe? I hate purple and anything made out of pleather.’ or ‘Are you sure you have to bring that up every time we talk about Frank Zappa?’ and ‘Why the hell do you always laugh when I’m getting mad at you?’ The answers are, respectively, 1. Never, I made that up for this illustration 2. YES and 3. I have no idea. None.

Can we just talk about appropriate responses for a minute?

Sad = Empathetic
Happy = Pleased
Excited = Excited
Angry = ~~Giggling~~ Listening and responding with ‘What I hear you saying is…..‘quickly followed by mind blowing make-up sex.

When someone is pouring out their innermost feelings about how they feel about you, your relationship and the future – not the best time to laugh. I have tried not to laugh, which has the same effect as when my parents asked me to say the prayer for dinner when I was eight. I started giggling and could not stop until I was sent out of the room. At which time, my parents would call ‘You can come back in now.’ and I would sit down at the table and immediately start to giggle again. And then I got grounded for two months.

I hate this even more than I hate that I have two really thick, black hairs that grow out of the bottom of my chin that require persistent plucking. I hate watching his eyes go from angry-at-me to hurt because I would SO prefer the angry-at-me.

I have found no plan to fix this. I would like to have a plan on the ready so this angry/laughing/me-bursting-into-tears-of-regret cycle can end.

June 2, 2006

The Part of the F717 will be Played by the MM-A800

I can’t go without my camera. I just can’t. The cell phone doesn’t compare.

Must Focus on the Good Things:

1. I got my T-shirt from Fussy and my boobs look ginormous.

2. It’s my weekend with the kids.

3. I still have direct access to my daughter’s MySpace and can remove pictures of her half-naked body and any other photos where ‘angles’ have been implemented at will.

4. There is a baby bird living in a tiny nest outside the back door. I took a photo of it yesterday but since that is when I realized something was seriously wrong with my camera, you can’t see it. Stupid camera! What am I going to do – Wait! Refocus!

5. I finished sewing the robe for my son to wear to school for History Day. He is Confucius. No, I’m not at all tired of hearing random made up Confuciunisms like, ‘Mom who give son money for Jamba Juice find life to be very rewarding and fulfilling. And win the lottery. Aw, c’mon, Mom!’

Hey, I have a tattoo. Well, I have a few tats, but I have one on my lower back that was recently re-discovered by two of my sons. They wanted to know why I had a huge-ass turtle on my lower back. And on closer inspections, why it had a POD scrawled in the center of the shell.

‘Mom, why would you do that?’
‘What?’
‘That band sucks!’
‘Yes, I know. It’s not for that. It’s because a long time ago, before we were divorced, I wanted to prove to your dad that he was the one and only guy for me.’
‘You mean, that means ‘Property Of D?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s dumb.’
‘Yes.’
‘That was back before your brain got fixed, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘I knew it. I’m not getting a tattoo.’

I think that went well.

I did go to get it covered and re-designed after I met Joe. I was all ready and on the table and had a design I drew to cover it and everything. And then she put the needle on my back and I thought I was going to die. I actually squealed and shimmied off the table. I tried to explain that the first time I had it done, I didn’t actually feel anything and I had no idea it was going to hurt that bad, but it made no sense to the lady and she was pretty annoyed. Trying to explain dissociation to people is like trying to speak another language sometimes. And so now, I’m nothing but a pussy with a tribute to a watered-down, takes-themselves-too-serious, pseudo-Christian, semi-rock band. If that’s not an anti-tattoo testimony, I don’t know what is.

May 31, 2006

Flights and the Roast

I think I have allergies. Ever since I came home from my mini-vaca I’ve been sneezing and snotty. While in Utah – not so much. In fact, it was on the drive home from the Burbank airport that it started up. Every mile we drove closer to home, the snottier and sneezier I got. I’ve been thinking for months that I just keep getting sick every other week. Dude. What if it’s just allergies? What if it’s not my body but instead the flora and the fauna?

The flight home was awesome, by the way. In the security line directly in front of me there was a woman that wanted to discuss with anyone that would listen, and mostly those that didn’t want to, how she was still loaded from her party last night. Visibly weaving and slurring, and this is at 2pm in the afternoon, she wanted to touch your arm and talk into your face. She made the metal detector go off. Repeatedly. And then she would remove one item of jewelry and then try again. This went on for, oh, twenty tries, before the guy asked her to step to the side so he could do it manually. She started crying and shaking and starting to panic. I’ve never seen the security people have to remove someone before. They were so On It. Finally, all that 9/11 training going to good use. It was odd and slightly disturbing. But good in that 3rd grade recess monitor kind of way when the mean kid gets taken to the office. It’s drama. But you’re glad it happened.

And Southwest? Your plan of not assigning seats and making people sit in line at the gate for 2 hours before a flight on the floor, claiming your 4 foot square plot of carpet and setting up the Dutch oven and putting on the coffee, since if you want to sit in the waiting room in an actual seat, like, with back support, then hey, you suck and have to sit in the very back in the middle seat and hate your life while the person on your left sleeps on your shoulder and the person on your right has to get up and climb over you to use the lavatory 4 times? Sucks. I know, I know – your flight price when I bought the non-refundable ticket 2 months ago of $120 dollars round trip can’t be beat. But next time? I’m going to drive for 12 hours since that is less painful and has more legroom and less drunken people in the security line. News flash – you aren’t a rock concert ticket line. You are an airplane flight. Get over yourself.

Since money is super tight, I’m glad I bought the ticket so long ago (and it was non-refundable) or I wouldn’t have been able to go. And since I’m not really much of a shopper, and we spent most of the time at the house, the entire trip was pretty cost-effective, as trip-taking goes. However, I did buy a pair of shoes. On Sale. And I love them.

The best part of being home? Conversations with Joe.

“They put a tampon under this roast.”
“A what?”
“A tampon.”
“A tampon?”
“Well, I don’t know what else you would call it.
I blink. More blinking.
“Are you sure? That might be a health code issue. I don’t think we want to eat that roast.”
“I’m not unfamiliar with female anatomy. I know what it is.”
“Uh, you aren’t talking about female anatomy. You’re talking about something that goes into it.”
“Except I just call it ‘gear’.”
I had to go in the kitchen to see.
“I think that is probably best since what you are looking at looks like a sanitary napkin, not a tampon. But it isn’t one.”
“Well, I’ve never made love to ‘gear’ so I know less about it.”
“Either way, that’s gross that you said that.”
“Leah. A roast bleeds. You -”
“Enough!”

Category: that joe

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Flights and the Roast