Filibuster
Let me start off by apologizing to all of you that came here through Google expecting to find something about the senate or president Bush. You’ll find neither. Except for that sentence. Which I guess is something. But it sure isn’t much.
I’m remembering that while growing up I had this technique for getting what I wanted. Let’s just say for example that I wanted to go to a party on the weekend and because of the small size of the town, my parents knew that there would be no adults at the party. Now, taken at face value, you could pretty much be sure that I wouldn’t be going to that party. However, given the nature of my relationship with them, I could get them talking/arguing for days with each other and never really, truly address the issue of whether or not I could go. They would be talking about who was parenting better. Who was a truer Mormon. Who was really on God’s side. Eventually, I could distract them to the point of me getting my own way. I’d go to the party and they’d still be comparing righteousness notes. Then, they’d both throw their hands up and blame the other one.
I believe that is the finest example of filibuster that there is.
My reward? I have spawned 4 offspring that all seem to have inherited my innate ability to ‘work the situation’ to their advantage. Some more pronounced than others. But by the time I realize it, it’s too late and not only did I buy my son Matrix Online, but he’s taken it to his dad’s house to play it and spends 4 hour blocks of time glued to it. Now, in the first place, I didn’t want to buy the stupid game. And if I bought it, it was sure going to stay at my house and not go to his dad’s. And if he did get to have it, he was only going to play it for max 2 hours a day and that was it! The only difference between my son and myself is that I never instigated an argument over video games and that I only argue with myself whereas my parents had each other.
And here’s another revelation that, I have to tell you, really snuck up behind me and bit me in the butt. The original belief was: I’ll never be as fuddy-duddy as my mom. When I am a mom, I will be a cool mom. I will be Queen Cool Mom. I will never make my kids wear the types of embarrassing clothing that I had to wear. My children will thank me for being so darn cool. I will have their friends over practically all the time and we will eat french-fries with every meal.
Well, with the exception of the french-fries part, I’ve recently been alerted that I suck. I am so not the cool parent I had planned to be. Oh, I thought I was. Until my daughter and I went to the mall to try and find any kind of pants that would just, please, in some kind of way, not have the waist band hit 7 inches below the belly button area. For the love of all that is holy, please. And they don’t make them. They are simply not available in any way shape or form. Every single pair of pants we found were some miracle of sewing construction in that there didn’t seem to be any possible way of wearing them without some crack showing and yet, it didn’t. Why? Because my daughter showed me her technique of bending to pick something up. When you wear the pants nowadays, you can’t bend over at the waist and grab your pencil. You have to carefully bend both legs and plie, balancing so you don’t fall over. When I started pointing out that other girl’s pants were so low that you could see their *ahem* hairline, she offhandedly told me that of course she shaves so that is never an issue. Duh. After I picked my jaw up off the floor, because please, I don’t really want to think of my daughter as being old enough to need to worry about that kind of thing (is she really older than 9 yet?!) I told her I needed a moment. And I took it. And did the head shake thingy with my lips blubbering against each other to clear my brain. Reset.
So, then we looked for skirts. Yes, the day just got better and better. My mother told me I couldn’t wear skirts that were higher above the knee than 2 fingers. This is where the swearing ‘I’ll be so cool’ comes in. Because I’m the kind of mom that tells my daughter to go ahead and take a full hand-length. Yes! Go ahead! I’m that cool! And then she rolls her eyes and tells me that that is so uncool because all the skirts are made to be two fingers longer than your butt, which I didn’t believe but then was proved wrong when we couldn’t find anything longer. And as I looked in disbelief at my daughter’s unhappy face which so closely mirrored mine own oh, so long ago, I had a sudden realization that I, in fact, was a dumb, fuddy-duddy mom. That is the curse of being the mom: that you will never be cool. That is God’s way of playing a joke. You only think you’ll be cool. But times change and you can never keep up. And then I realized that my mom probably thought she was being cool compared to the 5 inches below the knee skirts she used to wear when she told me I could go 2 fingers above. And then I laughed.
I shudder to think what my daughter will be faced with, with her daughter. Will they even be wearing clothes? Because the pants can’t get much lower and the skirts can’t get much higher before clothes become completely inconsequential.
The Earth's Day
The Earth’s Top 10.
Me, After 3 Coffee Lattes
Kintana, an aye-aye, a rare species of lemur from Madagascar, the first captive bred aye-aye in the United Kingdom at the Bristol Zoo Gardens(BZG) in Bristol(AFP/BZG-HO)
Guess the Google
I missed the high score by 2 points.
via Snarky
Holy Exploding Toads, Batman!
BERLIN (AFP) – Hundreds of toads have met a bizarre and sinister end in Germany in recent days, it was reported: they exploded.
Whatever those toads got, I don’t want it.
My Book
My book is almost ready to be available to the masses.
Maybe next week.
Reactions have been mixed.
I recently heard from 2 siblings that they are very much against my book being read by anyone and are hurt that it was ever written at all.
My mom would like it if I would rewrite it and take out some of the specifics and content that makes it slightly hardcore.
A few members of my family have decided to not comment.
And one sister would go hand it out and preach about it if she had the wherewithal to do so.
My husband is supportive yet slightly removed since he has read only parts and isn’t sure what the fuss is about.
His parents will probably be embarrassed by it.
My kids can’t read it yet since it contains graphic content and it is so particular to them. Well, maybe the oldest could now. I’m not sure.
My sister won’t let my adult-aged niece read it since she thinks it would harm her. How many more situations like that will there be?
How do I feel?
I feel so strongly that it is needed and right.
I get a stomach ache when I look at what happens to people that tell their stories.
It’s me. It’s my story. It’s real and good for it to be available to others.
It is strong and could potentially hurt someone.
The same could be true of many things: ocean water, roller coasters, rock concerts, snow skiing/boarding, driving…….
The benefits could be endless.
What I would have given for a book like it when I was in high school.
Energy Efficiency
We got a fridge. It came with ants. They love something that we can’t detect somewhere along the perimeter seal of the freezer. We find their little black armies swarming along the side. They are not interested in actual food of any kind. Everything inside the fridge and freezer is untouched. Did you know that ants can live in very cold temperatures?
Joe asked me, ‘How do you know if you should replace the seals around the freezer?’
I rattled off, ‘You put a dollar bill over the seal, shut the door and try to pull it out. If it comes out easily, you need to replace them.’
Joe looked at me.
‘Hey, I don’t know why I know that. I just do.’
Joe just kept looking at me.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘You are so hot. The only way you could be hotter right now is if you peed by the side of the road.‘
2 Things, Work Related Mixed With Family
1. On Wednesday, our Project at work got a recommendation letter of support from the Dali Lama. I told my mom. She asked me what the Dali Lama was.
2. On Thursday, I told my daughter, Alex, that Drew Barrymore’s people had mentioned her support for the Project. Alex and I are both huge fans of Drew’s. Alex squealed, ‘Yes! I know Drew Barrymore!’
UPDATE: According to Googlefight, Dalai is the preferred spelling, via joe
Where In Elise Learns to Never, Ever Piss Off Her Inner Voice
This has happened to me. Screw new knowledge and encountering mind expansion. Sometimes there is something to be said with just going along with what works already and not messing up the status quo. I once ‘learned’ a new technique that kept me completely immobile for the better part of a year for fear of screwing up ‘the simple and correct way to see with the inner eye.’ It took me that long to realize that I was already doing what worked for me. Then I did this painting and I felt so much better. (Shown hanging at Mixture in San Diego.)
Uninformed, immature, from the gut and purely emotional art rocks. And Elise, I love you work.
Goodbye Bas
Joe took Basilone to the airport last night where he was threatening homeland security and needed to be frisked. Twice. I kid you not. Watch out for those dangerous cats.
Bas is going to have a wonderful time living in Roanoke with Joe’s parents.
We are missing him very, very much. I said goodbye to him at the door since it was so late, the redeye flight, and it was my early day today. (5 am)
Looking for the positive: Devon won’t have asthma attacks and miss school due to cat dander anymore. There’s that. Although Dev is as sad as anyone to see him go. He just can’t help himself from petting Bas. Hence the swelling and wheezing.
I hope that the spontaneous waterworks will subside so I don’t look like such a dork in public.
Who knew I could love a cat so much?
Voicemail Message 3.3.2005
Hey Baby, this is Joe. Remember when you asked me what Bas could possibly be doing with all the little plastic water bottle lids we throw for him to play with? Well, it isn’t really magic but it kind of is. I just pulled out the couch to see if there was anything there we missed when packing up and guess what I saw? It really is a thing to behold. I wish I had a camera. There is 3..4..7..10…16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21. 21 little lids all in a line back here. Love you. Wish you could see it.
Mouse the Dog
Mows beeg lest ef SKIRRY THENGS
Dir reeders,
A lat ef yew hef gud daggs and I went 2 hilp yew 2 bi a bitter unner 4 thim. Hallween s uvver bet mebbee yew dunt no thatt allat ef theengs R stil viry skirry 4 yor dagg! So I putt tugeter thees lest ef thengs thatt yew shul no SKIR DAGGS ALLAT. I hup yew wil tra nat 2 espose yor dagg to this skirry theengs.
Seerly,
Mos.
Brown Paper Bag
This morning, early am hour when as recent as a year ago I would have shot someone for abusing me in such a way as to make my eyes burn with sunlight so early, there was Joe, downstairs cooking me breakfast while I blow-dried my hair. And he does it almost every morning.
When I went to get my phone (fully charged) from the counter, next to it was a brown paper bag. Inside, one peach yogurt, one orange, one plastic spoon and a small, red and white checkered picnic napkin waiting for me to give them a ride to work.
I love Joe.
This is For You : You Know Who You Are
I would just like to point out that I am not the only one on the planet that uses the word ‘soda’ to represent all Coke and Pepsi products or the phrase ‘shoot the shit’, which I did in a recent post and got much comment on. Here, in this post by Dooce, you’ll notice that she uses them both. In the SAME sentence.
Thank you.
You may resume your dithering lives.
Loving Each Day
Loving Each Day
Too many times the “problem” is allowing a situation to come to you on the level of your weakness and then declaring it too much for you to handle. Then it represents a problem.
It’s only a problem as far as you see it that way; someone else may look at it and perceive the solution immediately.
Many times what you are looking at as a problem isn’t a problem at all, but an expression. When you perceive it as an expression and see that there are many alternative ways to express, you have a way to move through it and change it to another expression.
- John-Roger
(From: The Way Out Book, p. 43)
Smoky
Joe and I had the equivalent of 2 large moving boxes and some assorted sacks worth of dirty laundry collected after moving three times and effectively avoiding cleaning any clothes or bed linens for a few weeks.
Last night, due to the children’s uncooperativeness to go to school wearing only dirty baseball uniforms, we gave in and went to the coin laundry mat, where, as Joe said so succinctly, we have set a goal to never go to again.
When the ‘Floor Washer Woman’, whom we affectionately named Smoky, due to the scent emanating around the entire establishment, saw us come in with our Santa-sized laundry bags, she immediately wanted to help. Help us learn how to use the washers. Since we obviously didn’t know how to use them. Since we had so much laundry and looked as if we had never used any washer before in our lives. And especially not her beloved industrial-sized mega washers which hold 5 loads. We used the whole wall of that kind.
She came over to Joe, who was sorting and throwing darks and lights into washers, so she could explain how the ‘Free Wash’ worked. We didn’t really understand and quite frankly, we didn’t want to know since the idea of waiting while one load finished and then putting in another load sounded like a 5 hour sentence and using 20 washers at the same time meant getting out of there as quick as possible, it just made no sense, free or not.
I went over to the quarter machine and spent some time unfolding corners on 5 dollar bills when suddenly, a very LOUD and gravely voice from the other side of the room yelled, ‘LEAH! LEAH! DO YOU WANT HOT OR WARM?’ Shocked, I looked at Joe standing next to her, who was mouthing, ‘Oh-my-hell-can-you-believe-this-woman
-and-i’m-so-sorry-i-told-her-your-name’ and I managed to get out a feeble, ‘warm is fine’ with a crooked smile. (more…)
Under Construction
This site is currently undergoing some changes and an upgrade to version 1.5 of WordPress.
Mind the dust.
In the meantime, I’m a Pepper, a cow says Moo.
In the Car, Yesterday Afternoon
Scene: Driving to the softball game, running about 5 minutes late. Alexandra, who had a really bad day, is telling me all about it. Devon and Tony, in the back seat, keep interrupting.
Alex: It’s just been a really crappy day, mommy.
Me: Really? Tell me what happened.
Devon: Interjection. My day was not of crap.
Alex: Tahisha (not her real name) totally ditched me, like three times.
Me: That sounds not fun, Al. What else?
Devon: Query. Why do you keep hanging out with her?
Alex: And Mack (not his real name) is totally, like, so mad at me because he told me to call him last night and I didn’t.
Devon: Query. For what reason did your call not take place?
Me: You didn’t feel like calling him?
Alex: No. That’s not it. Yesterday someone opened my backpack during PE and they took out my purse and stole it. My phone was in there. (almost crying now)
Devon: Interjection. That sucks.
Tony: Query. That bites.
Devon: That’s not a Query, that’s an Interjection. Or an Exclamation, but you’d have to say it like this ‘THAT BITES!’
Alex: Everyone is all blaming me saying I shouldn’t lose my stuff, but it wasn’t me! Someone totally stole it!
Me: Man, honey, that sounds like a bad day to me. I’m sorry.
Alex: And, I’m hungry. All week at lunch I’ve had meetings and I will tomorrow, too.
Devon: Affirmation. You are in need of food.
Tony: Affirmation. I am hungry, too.
Devon: That’s not an Affirmation. That’s a Statement.
Me: Well, baby, we could stop and get something right now but you’ll be more late for your game. What do you want to do?
Devon: Request. Please get food.
Tony: Re-Request. I am in need of food as well. Or my systems will fail.
Alex turns around and looks at them.
Devon: Attempt to Retrieve More Information. Will we stop for food?
Alex turns back around and looks at me.
Alex: I don’t want to be late. I’ll just eat after.
Devon: Interjection. That is sad.
Tony: Observation. My systems might fail.
Devon: Good one, Tony. I should have thought of that one.
Me: Ok. We’ll eat after. Did you check the lost and found in the locker room?
Devon: Observation. Your lost article may be found there. You must ask there.
Alex: Yes. (turns to the back seat) Yes! I’ve already asked!
Me: Well, just keep trying. Maybe it will turn up.
Devon: Interjection. It ma-
Alex: Interjection! Shut up!
Tony: That’s more of a command Ali. Especially the way you said it all mad like that.
Last Night's Favorite Craigslist Posting
The “Crap My Roommate Left Behind When He Moved Out” Sale
________________________________________
Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2005-04-10, 2:16AM PDT
Have you always wanted to own the former possessions of a bad reality show actor who couldn’t come up with half of the rent for a cheap apartment? Now you can! Everything listed below is for sale. Email if you’re interested in anything. If you want to buy a whole ton of stuff at the same time for cheaper, make an offer.
KITCHENWARE
(all in good shape unless otherwise noted)
� Set of eight Mikasa side plates with a floral pattern. Ceramic. One has a small chip, all others are unchipped. $5
� One small white ceramic bowl from Pottery Barn. Holds 450mL (15 fluid ounces) of liquid comfortably. $1
� Three small vaguely egg-shaped drinking glasses with a matching taller glass. Fairly intricate base; you’d expect to see fancy cocktails served on the rocks in the smaller ones. $2
� Martini glass with a blue spheroidal bit at the top of the stem. $1
� Round-topped glass with an octagonal body and a small chip on the base. Heavy glass; holds 250mL (8 fluid ounces). 50�
� “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” coffee mug. White ceramic. $2
� Three champagne glasses. Black stem and base. $2
� Three largish shot glasses (at least that’s what they look like). One has a character on the front who looks like she should be called “Heidi of the Non-Toxic Plastic Alps.” $1 (more…)
Rosie O'Donnell's Blog
I wrote something about Rosie O’Donnell a while ago and ever since have been getting many page hits for ‘Rosie’s blog.’ This of course made me have to go find it.
Apparently, I missed something because last time I checked, she was awesome, on TV and nearly everyone loved her. She was an entire demographic’s heroine.
Well, I still think she’s rad. And I find her even more compelling now than before, since I didn’t/don’t watch much TV, but I always have time to skim over blogs during the lunch hour. I think her writing is great and honest. And that makes me 1 of about 5 or 7 people I guess, but who cares? She writes for herself and no one else. And since I happen to dig it, it’s for me, too, kind of. There are so many people out there writing so other people will read their stuff and they try so hard to make it something when it’s really nothing. It’s nice to read a blog that is honest, even/especially if it’s different and a little strange.
Here are a few excerpts from my favorites:
december 2002
you know mama i think i am in love with jenna
my son said to the back of my head
how so i asked
“its like there is a magnet in my hand, and one in hers
they just go together – our hands like magnets
do you think that is love?
yes parker, i do
waffle house
in a large booth next to me
two children and an old man
tired and well-worn
his yellowed fingers hold a cigarette
with an impossibly long ash
he has greasy hair and a vacant look
i find eerily familiar
the boy is five – the girl about ten
she is chubby with a mom-did-it haircut
she sees me – looks away – then at me
then away again
i watch her feet swinging back and forth
not reaching the floor
she tries unsuccessfully
to get the old mans attention
she never will
…….
i drive away from the Waffle House
sun on my face and tears on my cheek
i drive away from 1973
from myself – without even a hello
trials
there is no get out of life free card
you may choose to sleep
or eat or run or fight
but do any one thing too much
to excess -
to fill up the aching part
only prolongs the procession
I think it’s great writing.
Nice work, Rosie. I hope you don’t mind I reposted you.
Morning Snapshot
Commuting to work
Lone man in the green Sable
Gesturing emphatically
Stressing. Every. Point.
Muted to me
In a different car
But visually stimulating
Although not as good as coffee.
In the Past
When I was 14, I was always in trouble. My parents, my siblings, my church leaders and even my pets had no idea what to do with me. I had no idea what to do with me, and that scared me to death, even though I never would have admitted it.
When I was 15, grounded for the 134th time, laughing in my parent’s faces and manipulating the entire situation to my advantage, I jokingly said to my mother that if she really wanted me to change, she’d have to send me somewhere else where the cops didn’t supply me with alcohol and the teachers didn’t give me A’s in exchange for flirting.
About a week later, she sent me to live with my sister. I was passed from older sibling to older sibling for the better part of 3 years. I was initially dumbfounded, then felt tricked, then angry as hell, then frustrated and finally beaten down into accepting the situation. I swore I would never, ever send one of my kids away. Ever. I hated my parents and swore I would never forgive them. Ever.
My mom did what she knew she had to do and took all kinds of backlash from people in town, extended family and my therapists. She had a feeling that I needed to leave the small town where we lived, that I needed to get away from my set of friends, to have a chance at making my life worthwhile. Every path I was headed down would have led me straight to death, jail and/or general life-long unhappiness. She saved my life.
It was a thankless job then. I’ve thanked her before, a few years ago. And now I’d like to thank her again.
Thank you mom. It took me a few years, but I learned to be responsible for myself. I learned to grow up. I learned to be honest and tell the truth. I learned to listen to my gut and trust myself to know the answer. And from your example, I learned that sometimes you have to do the hard thing to get the right result. Thank you.
I love you and daddy very much.
xo,
leah
Driver Safety
The good men and women of the police forces in southern California would really like me to have current registration. Their first hint was ticket #1 found under my left windshield wiper Tuesday after work. The second hint was ticket #2 found the next morning under my right windshield wiper outside where I live. But I think the one that finally hit home was yesterday evening when I was pulled over after waiting at a stop light with a cop behind me. He asked to see my license and registration. Instead I handed him the 2 tickets, told him that the dmv had sent my registration to the wrong address and it was still trying to find me. He looked at the 2 tickets, smiled and told me to take care of it soon. He handed them back to me and I had to ask, ‘Dude! What’s the deal? Did you get some kind of mandate that said to watch out for Leah and make sure she pays out the nose while the dmv plays forwarding tag with her mail?’ He didn’t smile. He said, ‘Well, it’s expired. Have a nice day.’
Joe is Incredible
Notice Ty has no eye holes. He’d like that.
