Sit On Your Hands On a Bus Of Survivors

Here is the back of a boat house.

I thought I'd do another quaint writing exercise this week on the nature of pain. What was last week's again? Oh yeah. I talked about touching a dead body when I was kid. One of these days, I'll surprise the hell out of all y'all and write about rainbows and unicorns. Of course, rainbows are just illusions and unicorns creep me out, so I doubt my take will be very sweet. If you only know me from my blog, I swear to god that in real life I'm fun and happy and hopeful.. It just seems like writing brings up the dark sludge in me. Here it is:

You are quite familiar with physical pain. It used to be part of your job. When you would assess patients with pain complaints, you knew just what to ask them. Was it sharp and stabbing, radiating or crushing? On a scale of one to ten where 10 is the worst pain imaginable and one is normal, how would you rank your pain? (just another reason to hate math and numbers)

You've felt it yourself. Mostly through your migraines. That sharp stabbing pain in your sinus cavity so intense it makes you throw up and pass-out, getting dragged underneath a buggy and losing layers of skin on your left leg, and 36 hours of labor. On a scale from one to ten where ten is the worst pain imaginable, you'd give those a 20.

The crazy thing about physical pain, is that once it's gone, it's hard to remember what it felt like exactly. Which is probably the only reason women have more than one child. You know it hurt, you know it was unpleasant, but you can't make yourself really feel it again even minutes after it's gone.

Emotional pain is a different beast altogether. Years and years after you've experienced it, you feel it exactly like you did the first time - sharp and stabbing in your stomach, crushing your chest and radiating throughout your body.


And now for something completely different...I'm going to take a weekly count for training purposes: This week I ran 41 miles, rode only 10 miles on my bike and sacrificed my lap swim to a Stinky girl's stomach flu. My iPod played a few songs I hadn't heard in a while tonight too:

1. "Mirror in the Bathroom" - The English Beat.

2. "Jump in the Line" - Harry Belafonte.

3. "Love and Destroy" - Franz Ferdinand.

4. "Bombs Over Baghdad" - Outkast.

5. "Somewhere Only We Know" - Keane.

You've Got to Want to Succeed

Here is a group shot, so you can see tons of scary 80's wear.

Man, I wish I had an extra day for this weekend too. It's been great, I just always try to pack so much into it. I'd love an extra day to get it all done.

So, Friday? Well, at first both the girls were going to drive to the town a half hour from us to watch the football game, then neither of them were going. It finally went down that Stinky went to sleepover at a friend's house and Coadster stayed home with me. We got a pizza delivered and watched a movie. She had to take the ACT test in the morning, so she wanted to just shut her brain off before she had to crank it up in the morning. Of course, that means I didn't get to read as much of my book as a I wanted, but I try to take full advantage of any time I can get with my girls. I'll for sure finish it this week, though.

As you all know, you need a seriously ozone depleting amount of Aquanette to host a successful 80's party.

Saturday was crazy busy and that was mostly my fault. Lately, I've been feeling great and in good shape and it affects everything else with me, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. I REALLY don't want to lose that over the Winter. So, I thought a good way to keep me on a roll, was to decide to do a triathlon next year. I hate to be bad at stuff, so I'm thinking if I commit to a triathlon, I'll keep up with training work-outs all Winter long and I'll stay in shape, which will keep me happy and well-adjusted (well, as I can be, anyway). I guess we'll see how that goes when the snow and ice starts flying.

Anyway, I added biking and swimming to my running and it cut into my time to do other things, but by Saturday afternoon, I was flying high on endorphins - my drug of choice.

Here was my 80's party attire.

On Saturday night I went to the 80's party and it was all different kinds of fun. Everybody made white trash casseroles, and there wasn't just Mad Dog 20/20, there were Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers too. Yeah, they covered all the bases.

Many of my favorite people were there. I had my few beers, did some Molly Ringwald from The Breakfast Club dancing and had great conversations. I spent a lot of time talking to a woman who I've known for a while, but not very well. She and her husband buy and flip houses and she was telling me she thought I should buy my own home. It's something I've been kicking around for a while and this wasn't the first time anyone's ever told me that. Since she's in the business, she had a lot of great knowledge and advice about which banks to go to and how much a mortgage payment might be, depending on what I borrow. In other words, she was awesome. Of course, I have almost a whole year left on my lease, but I might start getting a little more serious about persuing it.

Here are my pink and black Vans - the best part of my outfit.

By midnight, the keg was dry and half the party was heading to the Dublin and the other half was staying and sitting in front of the fire. I decided it was a perfect time for me to head home. So, I said my totally tubular goodbyes and walked to my abode.

And We Can Dress Real Neat From Our Hats to Our Feet

Here's me at the ass-end of the 80's. Good lord! Check out my hair.

So, tonight was a really odd running experience. I think I've told you about 8,421 times before that I've been running the same route for over twenty years, right? So, a lot of people who live along it, think they know me, even though we've never spoken before. It's great for safety reasons. As I was running today, a woman stopped me to tell me she thought I looked incredible. Normally, I don't like to stop at all during my run, but if I had to, I suppose there are worse reasons. Then a bunch of people I don't know waved or "Woo-Hoo'ed" me. By the time I hit Summit Street, I saw a guy riding a bike with his kid in a trailer. He waved, and I waved back with no recognition. He looked at me more closely and I figured out that not only did I know him, he was dating my friend Marla and was there when Coadster and I had the horse and buggy accident. I hadn't seen him since the John Irving reading almost two years ago. Talk about synchronicity. Weird.

Hey, is it the weekend already? Sweet! It snuck up on me, so I haven't really thought about what I'll do tomorrow night. I'm sure it will be something crazy and exciting like staying home and reading and listening to music. I still haven't finished Razor's Edge yet, but I'm at a really good place in the book, so I'm hoping to finish it this weekend.

Saturday my friends are having an 80's party where that decade dress is required. Which could really mean anything. I went through so many different phases back then. I can promise you, I won't be caught dead in a sweater vest and there's no way in hell I'm cutting my bangs again just for the occasion. I might just wear straight leg jeans, a Clash t-shirt, a pair of Chuck Taylor's and tons of black eyeliner, because that's what I wore for much of the mid-eighties anyway. My friend K. is talking about back combing her bangs and making her hair huge, and I can't wait to see that.

My girl crush is coming into town for it too. So, it should be a lot fun girls and silliness - my favorite combination. Who knows? Maybe I'll get a little crazy and bring my camera to document it all

Now it's your turn. What do you have going on this weekend? Will you be running around your town seeing ghosts from your past, or will you be reliving your glory days?

It's Just the Fear of Losing You

Coadster in her bright pink hip spica cast shortly after the accident.

So, I've been inspired by a friend to start writing again...No, really writing. Not just jotting down blog posts in twenty minutes to document them for some fabled later date where I will have copious amounts of time to produce actual fiction. So, I pulled out my folder of old stories from when I used to try to write almost ten years ago. I hadn't looked at most of them since then, and rereading them now, kind of made my stomach hurt, the writing was that bad. Luckily, it wasn't all horrible and I think I can actually build something out of what I have.

Since I mentioned the horse and buggy accident yesterday, I thought I'd post a little of the story I wrote about that to piece together what actually happened. I posted it once a couple of years ago too, I think. I had a severe concussion and I was 27 years old, and I wasn't sure if I even had a baby and if I did if she was still alive. So, you can read a little of this and see me at my spazziest. I know. Frightening. I think one of the big problems with this story is that it's in the first person. It was important for me to piece together in that tense, but it doesn't really work as a story. So, here is part of the original and if I think it's worth rewriting, I'll post the same snippet in the third person when I get it done.

Just for fill-in; we were on the buggy with this woman named Marla who worked with me at the coffee/ice cream shop. A guy named Arlen was driving the buggy when the horses got loose. We just happened to be going down a steep hill at the time. Ready? Okaaay!:

"Ah Hell," Arlen says. I see the horses running off, no longer connected to the buggy. Arlen is yanked out of the wagon still steadfastly holding on to the reins and trails behind the horses before he is left with a dislocated shoulder and broken arm in their wake. The buggy keeps going faster.

"Shit!" Marla yells and jumps off the side. Coadster and I are alone. She is crying. I think I am too. We are going too fast now for me to safely jump. The horses are gone, so I figure at some point we'll reach the bottom of the hill and stop. I have to press my feet hard to the floorboards to keep us from getting propelled out of the buggy. I feel my stomach fall and I wish it would drop to my feet to add weight.

This is where things get hazy. It feels like we're flying. I can't hold onto the floor any more and out we go. I can see it all in slow motion and I know exactly where we'll land and how it will feel. I try to keep Coadster in my arms but she starts to slide down my front. When we hit the ground I hear a strange crunching sound and taste the strong iron of my own blood in my mouth. Everything goes black and disappears.

I wake up and hurt. All I know is pain. I panic. There is something awful that happened. I am very familiar with this feeling of dread. There is a loud wailing far away. It is somehow comforting to hear but I don't know what it is. Something very bad has happened. I'm too tired to think and then things get dark again.

I come to again and see Marla. She's crying. She is standing between two ambulances. "At first it looked like the wagon ran over the baby, but then I realized that it was just the white sweater she was wrapped in. I probably shouldn't have picked her up, but I wasn't thinking too clearly. Is Coadster going to be okay?" She is talking to a paramedic. I'm afraid to hear the answer.



I'm stopping it here, because this post is already way too long and you all know the answer since she's seventeen now, and I've bragged about her several times in the last month. I think you get the idea anyhow, it basically sucked and was really scary. The end.

No One Knew Me, No One Knew Me

Another recycled photo of me in pigtails in white with my cousins wearing their best disco shirts.

What the hell. I guess I'll just talk about Facebook again. As I've said before, I both love and get annoyed with it. I don't really even know a lot of my "friends". People ask me to friend them, and if we share other contacts, I usually just do it. I moved around a lot and sometimes I don't remember all the people I've worked with, lived by or waited on. So, there are a lot of people I may or may not know asking me to play Mafia Wars or accept their Little Green Plants, or go to their musical events. Sometimes it all gets a bit too much for me and I stay off of Facebook unless I get a message or someone comments on my shit.

I have a hard time staying mad at Facebook, however. For one thing, it is physically impossible for me to carry a grudge, for another, it has also been really great for me by reestablishing old friendships and staying connected with current friends and family. I'm not the best at calling or emailing people, so I can use my 15 minute breaks at work or my lunch to wish people happy birthdays, "like" their photos or links and comment on their status updates.

This week Facebook has been really weird for me. I found the friend who's parents owned the acreage where Coadster and I got into that horse and buggy accident when she was a baby. I'll talk more about that tomorrow. Tonight, though? Tonight I got a request from my best friend when I lived in Chicago.

My mom died right before Halloween when I was in fifth grade. Shortly after that, we moved from Arizona to live in a suburb on the Southside of Chicago with my aunt and uncle who apparently found it very difficult to be nice to us. I really needed a friend and I found one in Cindy. She was the only other nerdy, book reading girl like me in my new school.

At one point, she asked me to tell her my favorite book and she would read it and tell me what she thought. She told me hers, but it was Harriet the Spy and I had already read it. I told her the title of my favorite book at the time. When she came back from the library, she said she couldn't find it anywhere. I asked her if she checked with a librarian and she said, "Yes, but she looked through the card catalog and said they didn't have a book called Tequila Mockingbird anywhere in the library." after I told her the real title of my favorite book was To Kill a Mockingbird, she read it and loved it as much as I did. We were friends until I moved to Iowa right before ninth grade and I hadn't seen or heard from her since. I guess Facebook and I can still hang out together after all.

I Have to Learn How to Live or I'll Die

Here is some graffiti.

I think I'm going to do a weird, morbid writing exercise tonight. It's what I can remember, with a little artistic license thrown in - you know how I usually do it. Enjoy:

I had never been to a Mormon wake before. I don't think I'd actually been to any kind of wake before. I remember going to a priest's funeral once, but it seemed big and impersonal. This Mormon wake was small and contained and there was a dead body right there in the room with us.

I met him before and talked to him when he came to our house to pick my brother up. In fact, I had just seen him a few days ago. My brother was in the Big Brother/Big Sister program and they gave him this guy. He was a bishop or a deacon or whatever Mormon's call their higher up guys. He seemed nice, but I never had time to get to know him. I don't even remember his name. I wonder if my brother does?

He picked my brother up to go to a Big Brother/Big Sister picnic at Lake Pleasant. I don't know what else happened, but I know that a bunch of them decided to swim out to an island. When Bill got there, he couldn't find his big brother. No one else could either. His big brother never made it. He drowned on the way there, after swimming right next to my brother.

So, we were at his wake and it was very small and his dead body was right there. His mother came up to us. She wore one of those big, several layered buns on the top of her head. She asked, "Did you say goodbye to him?" I assumed she was talking to my brother and I stepped behind him, just in case she meant me. My brother mumbled something, like he always did. We could never understand him and I think he wanted it that way. "You should touch him," his mother told us.

She took both of our hands and walked us to the body. I was afraid of him. He was so pale. He didn't even look real. "come on," she insisted. I looked at my brother and he kept his eyes to the floor, but he put his hand on the dead man's wrist. I didn't think I could do it, but I looked at the woman and knew there was no getting out of it. I touched his finger. I took my hand away so fast, I'm not even sure what it felt like. The woman hugged my brother and when she released him, we took off to find my mom and beg her to let us leave.

It's Lonely at the Bottom, Man, It's Dizzy at the Top

My favorite bartender S. thought it was funny to take this Miss Lonelyhearts photo of me sitting alone at a table.

Finalmente! On Friday I was finally given my perfect nerd girl evening. It was exactly what I needed. My girls were safe and happy at a high school football game and I got my alone time. It was one of those moments I try to recognize for how wonderful they are when they're happening. You know? It's so easy to remember the really horrible times or the dramatically great times, but I'm almost happier with the quieter, less landmark times that aren't quite as exciting, but every single part of it is exactly what I want to happen. That was Friday night for me. Everything transpired even better than I could have hoped.

My favorite bartender S. humoring me by taking his turn posing for a Mr. Drunken Loser pic.

Saturday was pretty damn good too. I can only do so much socializing before I shut-down, but my friend G. can keep going and going and going...So, she calls or emails or makes me go out one night per week and relates all of her incredibly dramatic experiences to me and I can still stay home and read books every other night. It's perfect. And that was pretty much my Saturday night. We went out and I had my couple of beers, and a fun talk with G. and when I started getting tired, G. had found some other friends to play with, so I was able to take a ride home with my friend Rachie who was in town for the weekend.

Today I got to spend some time with the girls. I still can't believe how wonderful the weather has been all week. When the girls were younger, we would have gone hiking or bike riding, but now that they're in high school, it's a lot harder to schedule those things. I did grill burgers and I still tried to keep my Sunday dinner tradition up. During the week, it's hard to schedule dinner all together because of practice schedules and team dinners for whatever sports they're in, but I make sure we get our Sunday dinner together. I know that makes me corny and dorky, but my girls seem to appreciate it too.

The best thing about this weekend, is that we still have another day of it. I'm not sure how we'll fill the time yet, but I totally intend to make the most of it.

The Dignified Don't Even Enter In the Game

Here is the tippy top of a teepee.

Well, kids. This week has officially wiped me out...For many reasons. Some of it was just not having any time anymore. I got so spoiled over the Summer. But now we're back to me running the minute I get home from work, then taking off to Coadster's time trials or to pick someone up from weight lifting or dropping them off for some student ambassador activity or choir practice...It's never ending. Anyway, I'm tired and this post should be short, but not necessarily all that sweet.

On the positive side, I got out of working the football game tomorrow night. I plan on giving my perfect nerd girl evening another try. Of course, I have to get up at 6 am on Saturday to get Coadster to a bus at 6:15 that will take her to her first cross country meet. Then take Stinky across town to work hawking Hawkeye paraphernalia at the college football game. So, my nerd girl evening will have to end much earlier than I'd like, but if I'm this tired tomorrow night, I'll probably fall asleep reading by 7 pm anyway.

Okay, you know the drill. Let me know your three day weekend plans. Will you finally catch up on sleep or will you continue the frantic pace of the work week?

Where is My Mind?

Here is a butterfly on a flower.

When your mind wanders, where does it go? At our retreat today, we had a wellness helper/expert visit and teach us yoga exercises we could do at our desks at work. It was actually pretty cool. I've never really been super interested in yoga before. It just seemed like for a while there, everyone was doing it and since I have to be difficult, that meant I couldn't. Plus, there's all that sitting still that I have a really hard time with.

Here is some fungus on a tree.

The woman who coached us told us to concentrate on our breathing and try to clear our heads of all thoughts. The breathing part reminded me of when I used to be a patient advocate helping people get through procedures that doctors liked to describe as uncomfortable, but most patients thought were just plain painful. I always tried to get them to work on their breathing too. "Take long deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth...."

I used the same technique on Coadster when she was younger and would get too tired or have a meltdown, just to calm her down. One time when she was feeling particularly stubborn she told me, "No. I'm not going to do it. I'm not breathing anymore!" I had to hide my face in my sleeve so she wouldn't see me laughing.

Shit. All those memories weren't helping me clear my mind. If there was only an off switch for my brain, I would be the happiest girl alive. When I really tried, the closest I could get was to think about running. It doesn't happen all the time, but once in a while when the weather is nice, and there's a light breeze against me and I've run long enough for my endorphins to kick in, I get to a place where I can't feel even the slightest pain, and I have a hard time remembering where I am exactly (even though I run almost the same route every day). My mind isn't completely clear, but it's as close to an off switch as I'll ever get.

I Could Go On For Hours and I Probably Will

Here are some lonely boats.

I'm sure it's the time of year, but I can feel people pulling me into the world of forced social engagements. I have my Fall retreat at work tomorrow, my friend wants me to work concessions at a high school football game on Friday and then there's the show choir potluck on Sunday. If I've said it once, I've said it a million times; I'm not a joiner.

I do try to show up and support my girls in whatever they're doing, (I just spent two hours today at cross country time trials) and I volunteer to do stuff that I know a lot of my coworkers aren't into. It's just all the "getting to know you" exercises, the events requiring name tags, and the forced socializing that I have problems with. Luckily, we don't do any role playing exercises at our work retreats anymore. The last one we did made me want to stick forks in my temples.

So, it really isn't all that bad, and if I get sucked into working concessions at the football game, I'll at least be with a friend of mine I've known since college, I can just think of so many other things to occupy my time that wouldn't be quite as painful. You know?

Okay, wish me luck at the prospect of less name tag wearing experiences in the future.

Oh, My Life is Changing Everyday

Here is a blurry photo of Coadster making a face taken by Stinky.

I'm always hesitant to sing the praises of my girls too loudly on this here blog, for fear that tomorrow one of them will hold up a liquor store with a shotgun, or I'll find they're growing weed in the back of our walk-in closet, or they'll start getting creepy plastic surgery and decide they want to get pregnant with 8 babies at the same time. But what the hell. I'm always living on the edge anyway...And falling off and climbing back up, only to fall off again. At least I know my way around it.

Coadster and her friend on the way to a football game on Friday.

When my girls were first born, I had such high hopes for their lives. I was going to do everything in my power to make their childhoods so much better than mine. I would learn from my parents and my aunt and uncle's mistakes in hopes that they wouldn't have to go through half the shit that I did growing up. Of course, I couldn't have imagined the accident, the illness, the divorce, the tornado and them living in two different houses where the rules weren't the same. I also couldn't have imagined how well they would adjust to it all.

It's not at all that we haven't had our run-ins or disagreements, but they both have turned out surprisingly well-adjusted. They're in sports, they don't skip classes, they both do community service, they are respectful, and neither one of them has even once asked for plastic surgery or the chance to have 8 babies at once. I know. Shhhh! All of that could change tomorrow.

Coadster and her friend made their assigned freshmen wear these t-shirts they made for freshmen wake up day for cross country.

One of my Churlita'isms that I beat my daughters over the head with way too often is, "You can't help what happens to you in your life, but you can help how you deal with it and what you learn from it." I'm happy to say that so far, my girls seem to have dealt well with everything that has been thrown at them. Of course, if you see their mug shots in the paper at any point, feel free to snicker at me behind my back. I was just asking for it by writing this.

And For a Minute There, I lost Myself, I Lost Myself

Here is a sandcastle that they built downtown to celebrate the college students coming back to town.

Well, things didn't happen quite the way I thought they would on Friday...But what ever does? Basically, a friend of mine was having a rough week. I had been trying to help her through it via email during the week. By Friday night, I decided she needed some escapism, so I brought her a book and I stayed until about 8:30 talking to her. I wasn't home for even an hour when Stinky got back from the football game. So, I didn't get as much reading done as I wanted.

When I was in my teens and early twenties, I was sure I was going to die young. I guess, technically now it's too late for that, but all those years of living like I could die at any time, have had some positive influences on me. I used to wonder what would be most important to me if I died right at that moment. Would I be upset that I didn't read enough books, or have enough stuff or run enough miles or have tons of money? Not really. I decided that ultimately I would care most about my relationships with the people who mattered to me and the adventures I experienced. So, I'm sure I'll have time to read my book this week and hopefully I helped a friend when she needed me.

Here is my favorite bartender and his adorable wife.

I went out on Saturday night and had a great time. A lot of my friends were out and G.'s old college buddy was in town.

He was a great sport about hanging out with all of us loud, bawdy dames, and was even okay with the obsessive photo taking. I have a feeling when he left town, he appreciated the hell out of being alone in the quiet of his car without women screeching at him or giving him seizures with all the camera flashes though.

Don't worry. This pic is totally staged.

I stayed out pretty late for me, but I said goodbye to all the fun kids who were on their way to an afterhours party. I'll never be able to keep up with the cool kids, and that's just fine with me. I don't want to waste my Sundays trying to recover from Saturday night. Who knows what will happen to me, and I do want to spend at least some of the time I have on this earth reading books, after all.

Soul Radiation in the Dead of Night

Here are some cat tails.

I'm delighted at the prospect of tomorrow night. The girls will be in Dubuque at a football game, leaving me blissfully alone in my apartment. My detailed plan includes an evening of running, heating something up and eating it without really paying that much attention to what it actually is, doing some superficial cleaning and then reading my book and listening to a DVD full of new music a friend of mine recently gave me. So it is now that I'm old and boring...

I remember other Friday nights in different places that weren't the least bit boring. For a while I lived on 24th and Harrison Street in San Francisco in an apartment overcrowded with Europeans all living here illegally. I slept on a mattress on the floor in a room I shared with an English girl named Susan. We worked together and I was desperate for a cheap temporary place to stay. We didn't know each other very well. She was really pretty, but also a little distant. She came and went with different men. One night I woke up to her and one of these men sitting naked on her mattress on the floor, snorting lines of coke from a mirror. I pretended to be asleep, because I had no idea what I'd say to them. The year was 1986, so I'm guessing it was a pretty typical experience back then.

I used to work almost every Friday night at Great Midwestern through most of the 90's. Toward the end of my marriage, while I was marking time waiting to be able to move out of my house, I tried to make sure I got home long after my ex went to sleep. It was so much better than trying to avoid each other at home when the girls weren't awake. I usually hung out in the closed coffee shop/ice cream place reading books and listening to music. Every once in a while, one of the college students who worked there would talk me into going out with them. Going to the bars always seemed like traveling to a foreign country after hanging out with my young daughters all day.

I spent a Friday evening in 1999 trying to keep my daughter from pulling an IV out of her arm. She had been unconscious for a couple of days. The IV was pumping three different kinds of antibiotics into her body, just to make sure at least one of them worked. Without them she would be dead. The doctors told me it could be at least three days until we knew if she would be okay and able to respond to anything. I kept trying to calmly talk to her while holding her arms down. "You have to just leave it alone, sweetie. I know it feels weird, but you can't pull it out. It's helping you get better. I'm sorry. I love you," I said. I had been saying something similar to that on and off since they set us up in our room.

"I love you too, Mommy," she responded. It was the first thing she had said to me since before she was in the hospital.

When I lived in Los Angeles in 1988, I worked in the juniors department at the Glendale Galleria and sold overpriced clothes to young, D-list starlets. I used to have to take the bus home. Apparently, Friday nights were full moon nights for public transportation. (actually, noon on Sunday was probably a full moon experience on most LA buses too) One night I sat next to a tired looking woman wearing nursing whites. Directly across from us, a man in his twenties scooched to the edge of his seat and leaned over, "Hey, are you a nurse?" he asked the tired woman. She wisely ignored him and stared intently out the window. "HEY!" he yelled. "I SAID, are you a NURSE?!" he asked again. He was ignored again. "Well, if you are a nurse, can I have a shot? No. If you're a nurse, can I have an enema?" He continued to ask for an enema with the persistence of a two year old until the tired woman and I both reached our stop in Eagle Rock.

So it is now that I am old and boring... There are so many other Friday nights from other lifetimes, that have made me extremely happy about that.

'Cause What You See You Might Not Get

Coadster giving herself bunny ears for some reason.

Well, I did get the pain with that migraine after all. Luckily, my migraine meds took care of it after a while, but I'm still all different kinds of wonky, so you get another random post. Come on, you know you all love bullet points....Or how about numbers instead?

1.) I'm on this new kick where I want to try and get a little more serious about doing actual writing on here. I know I go through this a couple of times a year, and then I lose it and then I find it again. So, if I start posting weird shit that doesn't seem like it's at all about my mundane daily activities, just remember you've been warned.

2.) Somebody found my blog by Googling, "shoveling shit in Iowa" and now I'm thinking I should change the name of my blog to that. It would be way more accurate than Churlish Figure.

3.) I recently started reading W. Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge at a friend's suggestion and I'm really enjoying it. I don't know how I missed it in my younger years, but I'm so glad I'm reading it now.

4.) I ran into a woman friend last week and she was telling me about how she's been in a really bad relationship. She said she knew the guy was a jerk and treating her badly, but she couldn't get over him. She decided to talk to her therapist about it, who just happens to be originally from England. After she told her the whole story, her therapist said, "He sounds like a total fucking wanker. Why are you shagging him?!" My friend said once her therapist put it that way, she had to wonder the same thing. I guess some vernaculars are more powerful than others...

5.) This is my first full work week in I don't know how long. I forgot how fast time flew when I don't have the luxury of vacation time. How the hell do I get everything done when I'm at work five days a week again? Yeah, I know. Wah, fucking wah.

Don't Be Shocked by the Tone of My Voice

If you look closely, you can see people kayaking off in the distance. Pretty.

Okay, kids. I started feeling a little dizzy walking home from work today. I ran, and it was fine, if not uncomfortably humid. Then when I got home, I got super tired and stooooopid. That along with the dizziness can sometimes mean I'm getting a migraine. I never actually got the pain part of it, but every once in a while I get all the other symptoms without the actual headache.

So, I guess this is all an elaborate excuse not to write a real post tonight. Trust me, you'll all thank me for not trying to write another one of my famous, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit posts. I think we'll all be better served by me trying to sleep off my phantom migraine and come back tomorrow and try it again. Night, night.

I'm Not Containable

Friday was the perfect last vacation day of the Summer. It was cool and rainy most of the day. I stayed in and got a bunch of projects done. In fact, I didn't leave my house once the whole day. Apparently, I needed some time to myself. Later in the evening, Coadster and I watched a bunch of Dexter episodes. I love that serial killer with a heart of gold.

Saturday night I went out with some friends for karaoke. I had to drive Stinky to a party and back, so I was the sober girl of the group. After karaoke, we went back to the Dublin where a VERY drunk off-duty bartender showed up.

At first, I thought I was going to stick around and give people rides home. Then I remembered two things: 1.) I'm too much of a loser to stay out until bar close, and 2.) my friends don't really go home after bar close anyway.

I was quite the trooper though. I stayed out until the drunken off-duty bartender yelled out "Laaaaaast Caaaalllll" (albeit, not with half as much flair as my girlcrush does it) and the girl standing next to him promptly fell off her perch. I took it as a sign to get on home.

And I Got Nothing to Lose but Darkness and Shadows

Here is part of a leg.

Sometimes I think everyone I know can be defined by just one of their parts. It's like when I turned our old TV set on as a kid. At first all I would see was one dot of light in the center of the screen, but then it grew and showed me the whole image. That's how I recall people too. My first mental image is that one representative part.

When I think of my mom, I always hear her voice first. Because she was a painter, you'd think it would be her hands, but it's not. It isn't even her normal speaking voice, it's the one she used when she was being silly and smarting back to the television or to my talking dolls to make me laugh. I don't think I can recall her normal speaking voice anymore, but I can still hear her making wise cracks.

It's similar with Coadster, but with her it's her singing voice. When I think of Coadster, the first thing that comes to me is her humming or belting out a song - which is pretty much how it happens in real life. When I walk into the house, I usually hear her before I see her.

With my uncle it's his eyes. All his anger and rage came out through his cold, blue eyes. When I was younger, I looked there first to see if he was on a tear or not. If they were bloodshot and looked like they were an inch away from exploding out of his head, I knew to make myself invisible. There was a storm a'brewin'.

With Stinky it's her eyes too, but for much more pleasant reasons...Okay, except for when she was a baby. She used to sleep 20 hours a day and wake up at 2 am. Since Coadster only slept eight hours a day, and woke up around 6 am, I was exhausted for those 4 hours in the middle of the night I spent with Stinky. She used to look at me, unblinking, with gigantic brown eyes and I was sure she was an alien and on her planet, they were nocturnal. Now, I think of Stinky and am instantly reminded of her big, beautiful brown eyes that can make me want to give in to her whims during my weaker moments.

I wonder if when I get very old and my memory fades and I can't see or hear, my friends and family will start to fade into their own representative parts in my cobwebbed brain. Then it will be like turning off the TV and the whole images of everyone I've ever known will recede into that one dot of light. Click.

To Walk to School Shes Got to Get Up Early

The girls on their way to school this morning.

So, all this talk of the first day of school made me think of a little exercise. I'll try to remember as much as I can about my own first day of kindergarten and the time surrounding it when we lived in Phoenix. Ready? No? Me neither. Okay. Here goes:

Today I finally get to go to school. Billy says I won't like it, but I think he's still mad about last Winter. One night we left the hose on and it was cold enough for it to turn into ice. We had never seen ice before, except for what came out of the freezer. Me and Billy's friend Woody slid all over it, but Billy had to go to kindergarten and it had already melted by the time he came back home. I think I will like school. I want to make friends and color and do activities like the kids do on Sesame Street. I can even already spell my first name.

Last year everyone went to school but me. I stayed home with Priscilla who went back to the Reservation on the weekends and stayed with us during the week while my mom worked. Priscilla was supposed to watch me, but she never did. After my mom went to work, she wouldn't talk to me or even look at me sometimes. Billy was only gone in the mornings, but that was a long time. Sometimes when I was lonely, I would go to the neighbor house where there was a mom who didn't work. I used to sit by her dryer vent outside and smell the clean laundry and listen to the game shows on her TV and pretend that I lived there.

This year will be different. Priscilla doesn't come to our house anymore. One Monday morning, we went to pick her up from the bus station and she wasn't there. So, now I go to Mrs. Hernandez's house after kindergarten and she will watch me.

When I go to school, a lot of the kids are crying. They don't want their mom's to leave them. They are like Billy and don't like school. My teacher is old, but very nice. We sit at small tables and I ask another little girl who is sad if she wants to be my friend. She smiles at me and we sit at the same table. Her name is Sheila. She tells me she is Irish and that means she has green blood. I forget that I am also Irish but my blood is red, until later when my mom reminds me of it.

Sheila walks part of the way home from school with me. Billy goes all day, so I am still the only one at Mrs. Hernandez's house in the afternoon. She asks me how my day was and makes me food. I eat soup in her living room while I watch the kids on Sesame Street. I think I like school. I don't feel lonely like last year and I don't have to sit by the neighbor lady's laundry vent to feel better.

Hope You Make a Lot of Nice Friends Out There

Stinky on her first day of preschool - which just happened to be Coadster's first day of kindergarten too.

So, tomorrow is Coadster's very first day of her very last year of high school. Holy shit! How did that happen? She is super excited about it and seemingly ready to kick ass. She's had cross-country practice for the last two weeks, so she's been hanging around the high school lately anyway.

Coadster on her first day of kindergarten talking to a girl she had been friends with since birth.

It's weird to think that next year, Stinky will be headed to school by herself. We're all pretty aware of how hard that will be for her. She and Coadster have always been very protective of one another. Our house seems to be the meeting place for many of the girls' friends and Stinky loves having all of Coadster's friends treat her like their little sister too. I have to admit, I've been happy that Coadster and her friends keep a close eye on Stinky at school too.

At the beginning of it all, and open to the experience.

So, I guess this is our last year of "business as usual". I told the girls I would drive them to school in the morning. I'm going to try really hard not to get all sappy and dorky, but I'm not promising anything. Oh yeah, there is a slight possibility (cough, cough) of a photo or two coming out of the experience.

Slow Change May Pull Us Apart

The little boy who is in love with Coadster in some cool superhero flashy glasses and one of my other neighbors egging him on.

I know it's pretty much Wednesday and I'm still blogging about Saturday, but I'm sure it will surprise exactly none of you that I'm a little slow on the draw in general.

On Saturday I was beat. I was tired and like I said a few posts ago, a little sad and I figured I just needed to stay home and regroup. In the late morning, I started my run up Rochester Street, when one of my neighbors opened her door and yelled at me. With my headphones on and my usual spacing-out, it was a wonder I even heard her. She wanted to let me know that our neighborhood party was that evening in her garage and the surrounding alley around 6.

I had been planning to stay home and be a big nerd and read and listen to music, but I've been really, really bad about socializing with the neighbors lately, so I figured I'd better show. Plus, it seemed that all of my friends and most of my family were at the State Fair that day, so if I did get lonely and want to talk to adults, it was my only chance.

My friend and neighbor, Stacy rocking the flashy glasses.

My girls and I showed up around 6'ish and ate some amazing food. I know I've said this a million times, but thank god my neighbors know how to cook and how to drink. There was everything homemade and wonderful that you could imagine. The main entree was pulled pork and beef sandwiches, but on top of that there was mac and cheese, tuna noodle casserole, egglpant parmesan and about a ton of different fresh marinaded veggies right out of their respective gardens. Mmmmm.

Around 7:30, both my girls needed rides to their friends' houses. I didn't drink one drop of alcohol the whole night, so I taxied them to their destinations and then went back to the party.

The little boy in the top photo was in the Summer day camp where Coadster worked and he apparently fell in love with her. After I got back, he was relentless, asking me when or if I thought Coadster would be back. I told him I didn't think she'd be back by the time he left. He then asked me to take a picture of him in the special glasses and then reminded me about 5,845 times to make sure I showed it to her. It was really cute, until I was too tired for it, and had to head home. Don't worry. I made a big point of showing Coadster the photo and she thought it was adorable and then felt bad that he had missed her so much after she left. Poor little guy.

If I Could Make a Wish, I Think I'd Pass. Can't Think of Anything I Need.

Coadster looking a little annoyed at the beginning of our trip.

Sometimes I wonder why I do it. Is it really worth all of the hassle? All that running around, acquiring things and packing and shopping and forgetting stuff and shopping again. Then there's the driving and the getting lost, or not really getting lost but thinking I'm lost because the Mapquest mileage seems to be off by quite a bit.

Stinky knocking her elbow getting out of the teepee we found during out hike.

Then when we finally get there, we go through that transition period. The girls are suddenly out of their elements and their phones don't work, and there's no computer or friends to talk to and it's all a little bit disconcerting for teenage girls.

There's usually weird attitudes and meltdowns to contend with on the first day too. One kid always seems to want to do the exact thing that her sister just said she hated. I've been through it during almost every vacation, but I always hope we can skip that initial transition phase. It seems no matter what age they are, we still have to suffer through it.

The girls during our kick-ass hour and a half long hike.

Without even being aware of it, the next day things change. Everything is easier and the girls are so much more amenable. We're having actual conversations about books and music, instead of what some dumb boy at their school said or which girls are pregnant.

My daughters finally adapt their "guest" personalities - the ones they usually reserve for other people's parents. They take it upon themselves to help. They decide between themselves what activity they'll be willing to do. Suddenly, we're all going on long hikes and laughing and then cooling down at the beach.

Stinky stuffing herself with s'mores.

On the last night, we've all but forgotten the initial stress of the trip and try not to think about all the musty smelling clothes we'll have and the sand that will follow us back across the state line.

The girls all hopped up on sugar on our last night.

We make s'mores and we all get a little sugar crazed. It's okay, though. Because everything is hilarious and my girls are totally charming. I am in it and aware of it at the same time. This right here makes all the other stress worth it. It's always nice to be reminded that we can all hang out and have this much fun with each other. We're the entertainment and we don't need glowing boxes, or texting or social networking sites. Right then, we're enough.

My girls with my brother in Madison.

We ease back into civilization and home, by way of a visit with my brother in Madison. We wander around State Street and go to a Chinese buffet for lunch and the girls' phones are working again and Stinky goes on a texting rampage to make up for lost time. While we all look forward to going home and blogging and messaging and reconnecting with our friends, we're also glad that we got away from it all for a little while. The perspective is always worth the bother.

Ghosts Appear and Fade Away

Here is a weeping willow we saw on our hike while on vacation.

Maybe it's the time of year. I'm always weirdest in August. I seem to go through a kind of emotional molting every year about this time in order to gear up, or more accurately, brace myself for the Fall and Winter. Don't get me wrong, I love Fall and the early part of Winter. It's just that it's when a lot of the bad things have happened to me in the past.

I had a friend who had cancer twice in his life. The first occurrence was in high school and then later in his twenties. He was one of the first bone marrow transplant patients in Iowa, and he's still alive and kicking and stirring up shit in his forties. But once we were working and he was telling me he was feeling kind of sad and anxious and couldn't figure out why. He came up to me about an hour later and said, he finally figured it out. It was because it was March, and both times his cancer had occurred in the Spring.

It's like that for me too, but it always takes me a bit to figure it out every year. Duh. My mom died and Coadster and I got into our accident in October. Stinky had meningitis and my mom's birthday were both around Valentine's Day. So, this has always been a reflective time for me. It's not bad at all, it's just like everything is a little tinged with sadness. I'm not all morose, and contemplating going Goth or anything, I'm just more of my quiet, less social self this time of year. In some ways, it's probably good that I give myself (and those around me) a break for a bit.

That having been said, I had a lot of great experiences this week. The camping trip was wonderful. I'll go into more detail about that tomorrow. Then when we got back on Friday, I went to see Colin Hay at the Englert Theater with a friend of mine. The show was amazing and absolutely perfect for my frame of mind. "Overkill" could easily be my theme song around this time of year. I was surprised that he could still hit the high notes in all the old Men at Work songs too. His band kicked ass, and I found his wife extremely entertaining to watch dance around and whatever the hell else she was doing up on stage. If you get a chance to see him, I highly recommend it - especially if you happened to be in high school in the eighties and apparently remembered every song from a couple of albums. Ahem.

So, yeah. It looks like I'm back blogging and trying to sort out all of my shit in front of an audience... And how have you all been?

Lost Between Tomorrow and Yesterday

Here are some people fishing from far away.

I've been the worst, most selfish blogger lately. My excuse is that I'm on vacation and I'm getting the girls all ready for school and us all ready for our camping trip.

I'm not sure if I'll blog tomorrow. Then we leave for Wisconsin on Wednesday. I promise next week I'll be back to blogging and reading other blogs on a regular basis. RAWK!

Time Don't Matter to Me

Trying to take a respectable photo with a Yayhoo getting in the way of it.

This weekend was a weird thing...Or maybe I was the weird thing this weekend. I felt structureless for most of it. I've always loved that feeling. When I was a kid I used to pretend there was no time and try to stay up all night and read books or watch old movies and defy it all. As an adult it's not so easy, but this weekend I did my damnedest. I suppose it didn't help that I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife.

Finally getting it right but realizing the top one is more fun.

I did go out for brief periods both nights. The only reason I did was because I had friends in from out of town. Actually, the guy on Friday wasn't a friend, but a friend of a friend. Both of my girls were out doing their own things, so I had exactly two beers and stayed out for a couple of hours.

This particular friend of a friend is also a good friend of that one guy I dated about a year and half ago. I introduced myself to him, and didn't once mention the guy I dated. About five minutes later, he called said guy and came back with the phone and asked me if I wanted to talk to him. Don't you think that's kind of odd? It wasn't a big deal. I don't have a problem with him, it's just that I haven't heard from him for at least six months, so it's not like we're buddies. I would never call the friend of a friend's ex-girlfriend (who I know) and tell her I met her ex and then ask him if she wanted to talk to him. Some boys are just funny.

Some friends taking the bicycle rickshaw home.

Saturday was kind of a bust. I did socialize and saw another guy I knew who was in town from Denver. We had a good talk, but I just really wanted to go home. I was in one of those moods where I wanted to lie around and read my book. Nerd.

Today I did a little of that book reading though. My girls were at their family reunion with their dad, so I had a beautifully structureless day. I woke-up and read and then ran and then went to my friend K.'s house and talked to her for a bit. I did go to the store, so I suppose that was practical. Then I read some more and my daughters didn't get home until almost 10.

I suppose tomorrow will end my wonderful streak. I have plenty of errands to run and things to take care of before we leave for our camping trip on Wednesday. It just helps to slow everything down for a day or two and pretend that there's no time or deadlines or a thousand chores to do every once in a while.

And Babe, Don't You Know It's a Pity That the Days Can't Be Like the Nights

Here are some flowers on both sides of a fence.

So, yeah. Hey, things are going well here tonight. We finally finished up having Coadster's senior pictures taken. Whenever we get them in, I'll be sure to post some.

I know I just took a vacation, but I'm taking another one too. I'm off tomorrow and all of next week. It looks like it's supposed to rain all day tomorrow, so the plan is to run a few errands and then clean the hell out of my house. I think I might just stay home tomorrow night and read and/or watch movies with the girls.

On Saturday the girls are supposed to go to the Quad Cities with their dad for their family reunion. I don't have a lot planned for the day. It's supposed to get hot again, so I guess I'll have to wake up early and run before it gets up to 100 degrees.

Saturday evening, I'm supposed to go to a weird more casual wedding type reception in someone's backyard. Then my friend G. wants to go to karaoke again. I'll probably go watch, but I'm not quite sure if I'm in the mood to participate. I guess I'll decide when I get there.

What about you guys? Will you be running errands or running from the heat?

Oh Heaven Restores You In Life

My computer is being kind of weird and won't let me download a pic on blogger right now. I'll have to wait until I get to work and maybe put something up.

Now that I'm back to work and getting up early, I'm also back to not sleeping enough. It's been a long time since I've had a week off, and the main thing I noticed was how different I am when I'm not sleep-deprived.

I'm sure I've written about this a hundred times before, but I'm just going to do it again. I have always had a hard time falling asleep. I'll be exhausted and the minute I lie down, my brain perks right up and it could be a few hours before it finally calms down again. A woman who works in my office likes to tell me that it's a sign of ADD. And I like to say, Um, duh. Once I finally fall asleep, I can sleep through earthquakes(and have). So, when I worked in bars and restaurants and didn't have to wake-up at the ungodly hour of 6:30, I was fine. Now, though? Now, I'm lucky if I get four hours of sleep a night.

It's been interesting to see the difference in myself last week when I got sleep and this week when I haven't had much. All my other ADD symptoms - the restlessness, the non existent attention span and spazzing seem to be caused by sleep-deprivation. I guess the real question then becomes; which came first, the sleep-deprivation or the ADD.

I Guess I'll Find Love, Peace of Mind Some Other Time

G. faking drama, but not really feeling it.

Saturday night we went out to celebrate with a friend. Her ex-fiance was getting married less than a year after they broke-up. She wasn't sad or mad about it. She just said it was weird. At first she thought she might stay home and chill-out, but D. and I convinced her she might just want to go out, so she didn't find herself stewing about stupid shit at midnight or whatever. We had a great girl night. There were a couple of guys with us, but for the most part it was us girls listening to cheesy music on the juke box, playing pool, dancing and laughing our asses off at our own expense. The guys who were there were giving us shit about playing Duran Duran and Hall and Oates. My excuse was that it was stupid, but really fun to dance to, and one of the guys replied, that he didn't dance so it was all lost on him. It hadn't occurred to me before, how much would be lost in most cheesy music, if you didn't want to dance to it.

G. with some drinking money all handy on her person.

Because it was that kind of night, we did some talking about relationships. One of the issues was whether a woman should ask a man out. A few of my girlfriends, who consider themselves feminists, thought the guy should either grow some balls or put on their big boy pants and ask the woman out. One of our guy friends who is in his mid-twenties disagreed. He said every person should create their own happiness. If we wanted to date someone, we should try to make it happen.

Of course, the big thing for me is my fear of rejection. In general though, I wait to see if the guy will ask me out first. If he doesn't, I usually lose my patience and ask him...Sure, I'm extremely awkward, with much stuttering and overuse of the word, "um", but I suffer through it. How about you all? Do you think it should be the man's, the woman's or should everyone just feel free to ask whomever they like out when they get the urge?