Jupiter in Retrograde Makes CopyGirl Kiss a Stranger

Jupiter is, evidently, retrograding and there is much to learn during this period.  Here are some hints and tips:

Be true to yourself
So what’s the best way to handle Jupiter in retrograde? Look to see if your beliefs reflect your values. Are they truly a part of who you are, or are you blindly following the beliefs of someone else? Do you pay as much attention to your spiritual life as you do your job or family? If not, you may need to make time for contemplation, meditation or religious services, whatever form of spirituality nourishes your soul. Attuning yourself to nature, taking a class on Eastern religions or having your astrology chart read are also ways to energize your spiritual life.

 

The phony-buster
Jupiter is also about integrity. During the next few months, you may find yourself face-to-face with any pretenses you’ve build up. For instance, if you need the accoutrements of success (fine clothing, high-end car, six-figure income) in order to feel validated, be prepared for a lesson in what’s truly important to you. However this lesson shows itself, just know it’s there to realign your integrity with your soul’s purpose.

 

Complete what you’ve started
Jupiter also rules education and adventure, while retrogrades prompt you to backtrack over old territory so you can complete your goal. Is there a distant land you’ve longed to visit? Are you needing to finish your bachelor’s degree? Now may be the time to take that trip to Egypt to see the pyramids, or enroll in a college course (or two) to complete your education.

 

But what if you’re starting college in the fall? With Jupiter retrograde through October 12, 2009 you might need to change your major eventually or readjust your schedule in some fashion. Most important, keep searching your heart to see if what you’re studying supports your destiny.

 

It’s a sign!
As the planet of the future, retrograde Jupiter will prompt you to examine your goals and how you’ll get there. Heeding your intuition can keep your goals on track – or help you find a new path altogether. Be open to receiving messages from unexpected (unseen?) sources that can guide your direction – signs from the universe, if you will. A sign may come from meeting a long-lost friend who works in a field you’ve been considering, which propels you toward a new job. Or perhaps you’ll suddenly hear a song on the radio that offers a clue about what you need to do.

During this time, be introspective and let the Universe guide you. Then you’ll have a clearer perspective about your life, both spiritually and materially, after Jupiter turns direct.

So, today, very early this morning, I had a lovely conversation with a man who needed my help copying and faxing.  He told me that he was retired but he used to work for the Navy.  During the Vietnam War, he spent much of his time on aircraft carriers but not for what you might think.  They would go out into the open ocean during hurricanes and he was the person who set and then released weather balloons into the hurricane for scientific studies.

What a fascinating job.  However, it was a very dangerous one considering this man broke his back five times, crushed his shoulers twice, and had a very hard time breathing.  All of this came from being thrashed about on the deck of the aircraft carrier.

He was a nice enough old guy… Then a woman came in and started yelling at me because I wasn’t helping her fast enough.  I went over, helped her, and then went back to helping the older gentleman.  She was very snotty and almost downright mean to me.  This old guy told her to “shut yer trap” as she rushed out the door.  I laughed.  I know I shouldn’t have but she was gone and it was funny as hell.  And then… old guy reached over and hugged me and kinda leaned in and I…

Kissed him on the cheek.  That’s right; I kissed a perfect stranger, with whom I’d bonded for all of ten minutes, square on his little old cheek.

Despite the fact that this was totally, and I mean completely and totally outside of my usual demeanor, I did it anyway.

I blame it on the Jupiter Retrograde.

That’s not such a bad thing as long as I don’t make it a habit.  (LOL)

Try it. Retrograde is happening through October.  There’s your excuse…

If, like me, you actually need one.

The One About Comcast and Carlos…

It’s Tuesday and Saving Grace is on tonight. I love that show and can hardly wait. Gritty.

I had to speak with Comcast tonight and, truth be told, it was actually a very good experience. My router went down and couldn’t get up. The woman I spoke with was very nice and accommodating and extremely good at multi-tasking. She almost had me talked into buying their new bundle package that, for only ten bucks more a month, will get me a home phone AND HBO. I miss HBO. I miss the shows. I miss the movies. I don’t miss the cost.

She had me goin’ with the phone and how much I could save by buying the bundle. She did all of this, quite patiently I might add, while I was unplugging and plugging and unplugging a bunch of cords. Then, just as we were about done, she mentioned HBO for just ten more dollars a month. Then she said it included HD and, while I don’t have that new TV yet, I’m considering it. *sigh*

She’d averaged what I pay per month and I felt myself swoon and sway. I do not swoon and sway easily. I heard the fall in her voice as I said I’d have to talk it over with my partner. She probably gets some kind of perk or chit or incentive or whatever they are calling it these days. I felt bad for a minute but then realized how much I’m already paying for these services and then simply thanked her for her time and told her I hoped her supervisors were listening in ’cause she was absolutely terrific!

I watched “Gran Torino” the other night and actually liked it even though Clint Eastwood seemed to growl throughout the entire movie.

I hear Carlos Ruiz Zafon has a new book coming out. I absolutely loved his, “Shadows of the Wind” and want to, for the first time since I left B&N, run right out and buy a book. (Makes me really miss galley books!) I don’t usually read fiction but, man, that was a good book! His new book is, “The Angel’s Game.” I’m a little afraid to buy it because I know I will sit down and read it all at once.

Between that and HBO, nothing will get done around here. Hey, that’s not such a bad idea! Relaxing; what a concept!

Living with Kids Means…

… Sometimes eating cereal for dinner and pizza for breakfast. Terrible, I know, but Angela and I are both working and, I’m tellin’ ya, pulling it together for a healthy meal is hard! We were doing the cereal thing far too often and I finally just got sick of it.

Thursday I went to Costco and bought raspberries, strawberries, spinach, juice, two kinds of salad, and some shrimp. We went from Lucky Charms to super-healthy. It used to be the most frequent announcement was, “I-hungwee. Can I have a dinna?” It has been replaced with, “Poop is here!”

Why do we do this? Why do we announce when “poop is here”? It’s just the way we roll in our house, I guess. I’d rather hear that than the constant drone of someone being hungry because they just ate whole grain oats, marshmallows (sugar, modified corn starch, corn syrup, dextrose, gelatin, calcium carbonate, yellows 5&6, blue 1, red 40, artificial flavor), sugar, oat flour, corn syrup, corn starch, salt, trisodium phosphate, color added, artificial flavor, vitamin E (mixed tocopherols) added to preserve freshness. Calcium carbonate, zinc and iron (mineral nutrients), Vitamin C (Sodium Ascorbate), A B Vitamin (Niacinamide), Vitamin B-6 (Pyridoxine Hydrochloride), Vitamin B-2 (Riboflavin), Vitamin B-1 (Thiamin Mononitrate), Vitamin A (Palmitate), A B Vitamin (Folic Acid), Vitamin B-12, Vitamin D-3.

(I hope, gentle readers, you appreciate the fact that I just popped up out of my chair, went to the pantry, grabbed the Lucky Charms, and actually typed that shit out.)

…Sometimes, well, no, most of the time, it means picking your battles. Don’t want the red shirt? Okay, get the (Humming in my head: ‘GDMF’n) blue shirt. Can’t find socks? Okay, wear your clogs or sandals. Don’t want to? (Humming in my head: ‘TMF’nB! Wear ‘em anyway!!) Okay, let’s go find you some socks, Mmmk?

And you smile… lovingly (Humming in my head: ‘WTF, over! Let’s get a GD move on, over! Roger that?!’)  And then you have an announcement, “Poop is here. Hold that thought…” And for all of your good intentions in getting things actually rolling out the door… “Poop is here.”

*sigh*

So it takes me to the place of not knowing which is worse: being constipated from red dye #40 or having a healthy (Humming in my head: ‘GDMF’n'!) BM.

…Sometimes means giving up what you want to do for what they want to do or what you want to eat for what they want to eat or when you wanna go to sleep and they wanna wake up.

…Always means never eating in the car (leather seats!), having to stop to go potty at least six times on a four hour road trip, remembering that whispering is more effective than yelling (Humming in my head: ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH’), every bit of it is worth it, especially when they do something cute or funny.

DeMarcus is in the livingroom singing. Gabriel joined him until DeMarcus stopped suddenly and said, “No SINGING! STOP SINGING!” He’s counting at Gabriel… Gabriel is rolling his eyes, singing, and giggling… A (Humming in my head: ‘GDMF’n') fight is about to ensue.

Control Freak.

The apple does not fall far from the (Humming in my head: ‘GDMF’n') tree.

And so, we are on our way to the grocery store where I will abstain from buying Apple Jacks and instead go for the Granny Smith. I will fight the urge to buy Marie Callender’s frozen crap and will instead go for “Pork Chopsssss….’n… Apple Sauce…” (Name that TV reference!) I will grab a loaf of whole wheat bread, watch Angela grab it and put it back in favor of white bread and be okay with it. (Even though I had it for toast this morning and felt like I was experiencing my 1,716th First Holy Communion.)

…Sometimes… is all you can (Humming in my head: ‘GDMF’n’) do is breathe, take things in as they are, and be grateful no one has mentioned McDonalds.

That’s just how we roll…

Finding Inspiration

It’s been difficult and time consuming but I’m finally finding inspiration for a return to the old blog in a most curious manner. I’ve been facebooking and tweetering (whatever it’s called and it ain’t my cuppa) because that’s all the time I’ve allowed myself to expose and record my thoughts. I realize that I have way more thoughts than allowed on either of those venues and have tremendous difficulty censoring myself. Here’s the bottom line inspiration: I’m just not a snippet kinda gal. 

Onward.

I work with some pretty cool people. They are funny, sarcastic, caring, intelligent, talented, jaded, and all on their way to something better… someday. We all deal with needy, pathetic, stupid people on a daily basis. No matter what kind of day we are having, there’s always at least one demanding, self-professed, idiot in need of a hand-holding experience. It always starts with: “I just need three copies but I don’t know how to use the machines. You‘ll have to do it for me.” There’s never a “please” or “thank you” in their request because, of course, I am there to serve them. They are intimidated by the equipment and get mad at me and demand I do it for them. I do so happily but what started with copies turns into the eventual list of all inadequacies in their lives. Good thing it only takes a minute. A long, long minute…

Tests my patience severely.

One of the guys I work with is originally from Louisiana; New Orleans, I think. He’s one of those kinds of guys who can fix just about anything and loves to tinker. Yesterday he fixed my cash counting (weighing) machine just by giving it a look. I swear to God… that’s all I saw him do and the damned thing obeyed his command.

When I was new, he would eye me suspiciously and only speak when spoken to while drinking in my movements to see if I was fluid, or not; making me feel watched to the point of paranoia. I thought, maybe, it was a regional, kind of southern thing and it might be. What do I know? Of course he’s very polite and giving of his time and talent but guarded in a way that, at first, put me off a little. Then I realized that his thoughts and observations run as deeply as mine and he was merely sizing me up. It has taken nine months but he now speaks freely and hangs out with me while I’m working.

Yesterday I asked him about one of his tools and he followed me around like a(n) (certain) eleven year old explaining how he’d modified it himself and how it was better than a Leatherman (His tool is a Gerber.) because it now works like a switchblade and is oh-so-convenient if your hands are busy, etc… I love his tool-speak and geek-speak. He’s such an interesting guy. His wife is pregnant with their first and our conversations are getting ever more interesting.

Another guy I work with is an auditor and is now in the unenviable position of going to each center and measuring how well each is adhering to SOP standards. I’m sure he feels the collective groan when he walks into a center unannounced. (‘Cause that’s how it works, people! Audits aren’t effective if you’ve slicked the place up before the process and then go back to your old ways. Some people just don’t get that.) He is perfect for this job because he’s very matter-of-fact and a terrific teacher. He also doesn’t put up with any bullshit. He told me some stories about “coming-up” in his management career and had me laughing so hard I had to loosen my belt.

He’s one of my favorites (which I can’t say out loud because he’s an auditor and it would look like I’m sucking up) and I love spending time with him and telling stories while he searches for hits and misses in my processes. I’m never offended or put into a defensive position with him. He always takes the time to tell me what and why, which makes sense for me, and gives me the heads-up on what to expect next time.

This is a guy who came up and out of adversity and is stronger for it. He was a restaurant manager, a server, and an op’s manager. He worked as an assistant manager who really took a lot of abuse but learned how turn it all around to get to where he is now without bitterness. He’d probably protest that last bit and call himself bitter about some things but I just don’t see that in him. Bitter ain’t his style but I love his acerbic wit, sense of humor, and leveling sarcasm.

I was telling him the latest about a particular team member and all he said was, “Bitch just needs to move on.” So right, sir! His comedic timing is perfect. When the door is closed he drops F-bombs with a certain, je ne sais quoi, Johnny Depp-Cap’n Jack swagger that so aptly describes the frustrations of trying to change a culture through checklists and procedural reviews. I love it and giggle girlishly while nervously wondering what dumbshit thing one of my employees may have done to fuck up my audit score. No matter what it is, when he leaves and I’ve got that score in my hand, I feel smarter and better for it.

Told ya; perfect for the job.

These guys are two of my fav’s and I’m eager to get to know them better. I also work with some real doozies; people who should have moved on long ago but are hanger-on’s for lack of inspiration.

Me, I’m finding it where I can get it these days and it ain’t in snippets.

It never is.

Dun May Me Get to Fwee!

D-man has had an incredible amount of energy lately and it seems we are constantly yelling, “STOP RUNNING IN THE HOUSE!” at him every fifteen minutes. This morning, amidst the dogs pooping and peeing on the floor (I just let them in from outside; the bastards!), my not feeling well, laundry everywhere, D-man was, once again running only, this time, before we could yell, we heard, “BOOM!”

Both of us went running into the livingroom where we found him on the floor, next to the wall and an incredible CSI-like-blood-splatter on the carpet. He kept saying, over and over, “Much too much bwood! Much too much bwood! Much too much bwood!”

And there was much too much blood gushing everywhere from two big ol’ splits in his bottom lip. Angela cupped his face and took him into the kitchen. She ran cold water over his mouth while he cried, complained, stared in amazement, and kept saying, “Bwood! Bwood!” He hit his nose and has a weird looking bruise on his right nostril. I cleaned the splatter, put him in the shower, and then retired to the couch. It was all very gross.

Despite all of this, he continued to run in the house and chatter like a freakin’ magpie all day. Here’s just a snippet:

D: “Tan I pway DS, pwease?”

Me: “No.”

D: “Pwease? Pwease? Pwease? I diyah chowes. I cweaned room.”

Me: “You did not. Gabriel did. No. You didn’t do any of the chores I asked of you.”

D: “Uh-uh. I cweaned someping. DS… pweeeeease!”

Me: “No. And you did not ‘cwean someping’ today.”

D: “Yes I diyah, pwease? Oh, I din’t care.”

Me: “What? Tsk… Stop. No.”

D: “Otay, I count. Tomowow Monday an I can’d pway Monday I can pway Sunday and today is Sunday. Pweeeease! Pwease pway DS? I dun know… I cwean yesterday. Pwease Mommy. Pwease pway DS.”

Me: “Nope.”

D: “Pwwwweeease… DeMommy. PWEASE!”

Me: “No.”

D: “Okay then…. One………. Two……. dun may me get to fwee….”

(At this point Angela and I are IM’ing back and forth and just cracking up. He’s counting at me! He’s actually being very cute when he’s doing this and charming us both…. to death.)

Me: “Tsk… Okay. You can play the Gameboy but not the DS.”

D: “Gameboy? You sure?”

Me: “Hahahaha… Get out of here you bugger!”

Just a pile of laughs. I’ve been under the weather all day today and a bit crabby but he just cracked me up. Gabriel, on the other hand, began that crying/yelling thing when I asked him to clean his room. He. Would. Not. Shut. Up. Finally, I turned on the timer and told him he had two minutes to get his act together or he would be spending the rest of the day on his bed. Worked like a charm. Wish I’d said “one minute” though.

Angela and I played Mob Wars on Facebook, killing, attacking, and doing fake muggings and drug deals for hours. We both felt better after beating anonymous internet people to death. God. What has become of my world?

Angela has been obsessed with the idea of moving to India. Yeah, THAT India; Kerala to be exact. She’s been reading all about it since yesterday and trying to persuade me to think about it. That is, until she read that you should always turn on the light in the bathroom before you go in to do your business because many, many people have been hit in the bum by pipe-lurking cobras.

Later in the day, we went to Walmart (because we are out of milk and gluttons for punishment) and, I kid you not, stood in line for an HOUR to check out. The place was swarming with (ghetto-ass) people. As we were sauntering through the parking lot, weary of sounds and children (especially the grape-throwing baby in front of us and his Crown Royal-smelling anorexic mother) and people who’ve never uttered the words, “Excuse me.” in their lives, Angela says to me, “I don’t know what I was thinking in wanting to move to India. I can’t even deal with Walmart for an hour!”

Yeah, well, today I (and I’m sure Angela, too) feel exactly like that about all ya’ll. Walmart was simply the icing on the cake. There were two former NFL players signing autographs at a table in front of the ladies department (bad placement, if you ask me) in Walmart. The boys went up and shook their hands even though they were on teams we can’t stand; the Raiders and the Cowboys. These guys were very nice to the boys but we had to wonder; what must it be like to be Superbowl champions and have to do autograph signings in a Walmart in Albuquerque, New Mexico?

As we were standing in line, I looked at D-man and noticed he had blood and puss dripping off his lip so I grabbed the inside of his shirt and dabbed it carefully. I realized that, considering the environment we were in, no one even noticed. Well, I noticed it and I’m pretty sure I’d notice a pipe-lurking cobra about to bite me in the bum.

Unless I was distracted by magpies which, considering, is wholly possible.

By the time we got home we said the heck with it all and let the kids eat cereal for dinner. Not so sure that would even be a choice if we lived in India. I don’t know what Angela was thinking: she hates rice, hates coconut milk, hates bugs and snakes, and hates lots of people.

Me… I opt for just another day in paradise where I just this very moment yelled,

“STOP RUNNING IN THE HOUSE!”

…and a giggling, pussy-lipped child just ran away into the night…

Unable to Form Complete Sentences

I saw the funniest headline on Google News today.

“ShamWow Pitchman Vince Schlomi Arrested for Punching Prostitute”

Say that ten times.

It’ll crack you up. It cracked me up. Yep, I’m cracked.

I feel crazy.

I’ve been working constantly and people seem dumber, more impatient, and meaner than ever. What is wrong with people? It’s contagious, you know. It’s terribly hard to remain positive and centered when the people surrounding you (not my immediate circle) are complete and total assholes. Driving. Customer servicing. Out to dinner. Shopping. Talking on the phone. Neighbors. (And their little dogs, too.) Comcast. Service people. Bosses. Employees. Customers. Crossing guards. Baristas.

Ugh.

I had a dream about Barack Obama last night. I dreamt (my mother loves to roll her eyes when I say that… prepare yourself.) that I was at a college, some type of large university, and Angela was working for Barack Obama as a photographer. I was waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing and taking care of the kids. Secret service-like dudes kept coming in and whispering in her ear and, when they left, she’d say, “They are going to bomb Iran. We are going to war. I shouldn’t tell you that but I can’t help myself. It’s nuts.” This kept happening, over and over again, only the countries would change each time. She would then apologize and say she was almost done and we could go home and make dinner soon.

Then Barack came out and she introduced me to him. For some reason, he and I struck a chord between us and I felt very motherly toward him. I kept telling him soothing things and he would lean into me. I would hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright and to not worry. I swear I could feel the Brillo on his lil’ head when I pet him. Then he’d get all presidential and say something to someone and then turn to me as if he wanted my approval for what he’d just done or said. I would nod and he would smile at me adoringly.

I awoke feeling the world upon my shoulders.

Then I remembered that on old buddy of mine from MSN Spaces had sent me an uplifting video. Every single time I watch this video it makes me smile, weep a little, and feel good. I never thanked him for that. Hey, Russ?

THANK YOU. That small act of kindness has been helping me keep my head above the swill.

And so I share it with all of you…

Birthday Madness

I’m pretty sure the photos (courtesy of  Photography by Solaria) tell the story.

Good food.

Good people.

Good times!

It always starts out innocently enough… I just loved this cake.  It’s from the Dia de la Muerte theme.

How apropo!

Of course, Mojo not only wishes he were taller but that his tongue was oh-so-much-longer…

Notice the little Elvis-like curl of his lips as he wonders about that fire on the cake…

He was helping me blow out the candles by licking my lips… Ack!

Birthday Traditions! This year we went with PURPLE!

Maniacal, good little Catholic-Boy Garb does so much for this shot!  He’s so macabre.  He gives Heath Ledger a run for his money!

Leading up to these special effects while cutting the cake… Gabriel gives it away though with that *very amused* smile on his face.

“Die! Die! Die!”  Oops… I mean… Happy Birthday to me!

What S sees in me is beyond me…

We took the purple from my name for our frosting kisses. “Happy Birth’….S.

I dun no nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies!  Angela and the boys and my mom made it really, really special.

The End.

The Last Four Hours of My First Half Century

…Is being spent eating Toaster Strudel (Boston Creme and Raspberry!) and Fig Newton’s, watching “Australia” (for the second time), waiting for the second season premier of “Breaking Bad”, and having hilarious conversations with D-man.

D-man: “DeMommy? Yo birtday tomowoh?”

Me: “Mhmmm…”

D-man: “How owd you be? Fitty?”

Me: (cracking up) “Who told you that?”

D-man: “I dunno. Wan me sing to you?”

Me: (still laughing) “Okay. That would be great…”

He sings the entire birthday song and then says, “Fitty is owd.”

I scowl at him and then burst out laughing. He’s talking so well now. He said all of this without any prompts. Still, I’d like to know who gave him the number ’cause now he’s repeating it constantly.

Still… cracks… me… up…

Mojo is stuck to me like glue because he’s so happy he had a (four freakin’ hour) Day of Beauty yesterday. He looks adorable and smells great. And… I’m pretty sure he’s snuggling because he’s cold. Me? I’m feelin’ my fitty.

I worked today then came home and watched “Religulous” which I found completely entertaining, thought provoking, and scary as hell. S and I decided our position is that we have our doubts; humility is, evidently, important to our survival. Booyah! Loved the scene with the ex-gay. Puhlease, buddy… You is so, so gay!

I share my birthday with Barbie. I think it’s hilarious that they’ve just come out with “Totally Stylin’ Tattoos Barbie.” Yeah, me and Barbie are having a midlife crisis. I’m thinkin’ of getting more ink myself. Yo, Barbie; you go girl! Only difference between you and me is that, in 20 years, your ink will fade but at least it won’t stretch and fall. Gah!

So, yeah; four more hours of the first half of my life. My mom told me that 50 is the new 30. I told her I relate to 34 so, for me, it’s the new 34. Not that it matters; I’ll be asleep by 9, up by 4, out the door by 6, and home by 5. It’s a grind now matter how old you are.

Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my 100 years of lack of solitude.

Ain’t life grand?

Fitty is sooooo not owd!

Wildly Dizzy

I started to write something about how windy it’s been here in Albuquerque. I Googled “Winds of March” and ended up on a spiritual path with the band Journey. While I liked that song (though don’t remember hearing it… ever… and thought I knew just about every Journey song) my favorite song is still “Lights”. I totally lost myself in listening to every version on YouTube. That song reminds me of some very special moments in San Francisco and the early days of my pioneering soul.

The first memory to come to mind is on the steps by the bay just down from Ghirardelli Square. I was about 17 and some friends and I went into “The City” for the day. We had rented some roller-skates and skated up and down the steep streets of San Franscisco. I could barely drive (stick-shift!) in SF and remember grabbing street signs at the bottom of the hills to keep from skating into traffic. Wild. We landed at Ghirardelli, had lunch, and went down to the steps where there were street vendors, musicians, magicians, and lots of people shopping, dancing, and watching.

I bought a silver and tiger-eye ring and was wearing my love beads. We drank Heinekens (how we got them… I don’t remember) that I had been carrying in my backpack; each bottle exploded when opened from all of the swirling around street signs and slamming into buildings to slow or stop our skating momentum. We danced, on skates, to the Reggae music. We pretended to be drunk but, really, only just smelled of beer because we were wearing more on our chins and shirts than actually made it into our bellies.

We stayed in the city all day and half the night; skating and riding buses all over the city.  We went to a 2AM showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show at The Strand. It was in the red-light district and, boy-oh-boy, what an education that was! I’d never seen hookers or transgendered people or totally-out gay people or so many Transylvanians ever before. I felt kinda butch and shared a joint with the girl sitting next to me in the theater. She gave me a shotgun and kissed me! (I kissed a girl and I liked it… That song is about 30+ years too late for me.) It was all so strange and exhilarating and scary and exciting. I have never liked pot but that night I smoked because of the cute girl sitting next to me (and next to her was her boyfriend and next to me was my boyfriend…HA!) I remember feeling wildly dizzy from everything.

We got home around 6AM and promptly flopped. Ah… Youth! Spend it while you’ve got it.

Anyway… Great memory!

It’s been really windy for the past several days. So much so that you can’t see the mountains from the mesa or the mesa from the foothills or the Walgreens from the mall. Wind makes me feel wildly dizzy. Might be that inner-ear thing or maybe it’s a flashback… who knows?

Juniper and many other irritating irritants have been flying up my nose at an alarming rate. Actually, what’s alarming is the amount of mini-heart-attacks (aka sneezes) I’ve been experiencing. They come in 9’s and, if I’m driving, I’ve closed my eyes at least twice as many times. Talk about alarming at 75 mph! Then there’s the piddle-factor that coincides with each mini-orgasmic-heart-attack. While I can usually be successful at making it home just in time because I should have gone before I left work but had been so busy I couldn’t even take a pee-break; multiple orgasmic sneezing makes it very, very difficult. TMI? Eh…

I was driving home from my mom’s house and the dust/dirt/sand was swirling along the road like snowfall on a blustery winter’s day. Impromptu sand dunes created amazing Sahara-like shapes along gutters, washes, and Petroglyphs. Everything was covered in a brown-gray hue. It was beautifully ugly… And oh-so-damaging to my truck’s exterior… Not to mention what it did to my hair.

That same night, I helped D-man with his shower and, while washing his hair, I could feel chunks of boulders trapped beneath his tight curls. The strong stream of water couldn’t coerce the playground sandbox from his afro; I had to comb and rake it out with my fingernails.

Last weekend I moved all the furniture and rearranged the living room. This weekend I’ll be dusting everything… again. By tomorrow, it will all look the same: dusty. I’ll also be giving poor little Mojo a bath. I’ve been slowly cutting away his matted fur and will have to cut his hair short in order to get the backyard out of his afro. I’m thinking of doing the same thing to D-man. I use the same clippers for both. Sounds gross, I know; I’m not sure which is worse, D-man or Mojo. In any case, I’m thinking the clippers will get the raw end of the deal.

Two days until 50.

I want my cake now before the grit sets in…

Oh. No. You. Di’n't!

“I don’t know what I did. You tell me… You work here!” (Rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hips…)

Oh, no you di-n’t just say that to me, you fat cow. After you ran through something containing staples and a freakin’ paperclip, opened the machine (violently, I might add), and tried to extricate your mess and totally pulled out half of the rubber wheel; you have the nerve to say this to me? I totally can’t believe the abuse copy machines take and the audacity of the people who mess them up.

Thank you. That’ll be $4,786.19. Paper or plastic?

While driving home on I-40 the other night, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a young woman, seat-back almost all the way back into the back seat, rolling toward me at a too-fast pace. I inched forward hoping she could actually reach the brake pedal. I wondered how she could see over the steering wheel.  She didn’t stop. Instead, she lolled to the right, drove onto the gravel, sped up, and then swerved in front of me. She actually waved her hand, as if to thank me, and then swerved into the lane on my left. As I carefully passed her and her stoned boyfriend (I could see them smokin’ a bowl), her boyfriend flipped me off.

Oh, no you di-n’t just flip me off, you dumbass, coked-out, bitches! I cannot believe how many people do these kinds of stupid, loaded, dumbass things on the road. I called 911 and reported what happened and gave them her license number. I hope her address is current and they find the pipe in the car. Not like that will amount to anything…

Thank you, God, for helping me making it home that day.

When I was 23 years old I used to say, “I’ll be surprised if I make it to 25!” Now that I’m, ahem, a little older, I say, “I’m surprised I’ve made it this far considering all the fuck-knuckles in this world.”

I can remember my 30th birthday quite clearly. I lived here in Albuquerque and we decided to go out to the Petroglyphs and hike to the top of the volcanoes to watch the sunset. We took my Scout so we could four-wheel-drive-it up to the fences (that kept the idiot four-wheel-drivers out) and parked. We hiked on the dirt roads, dogs off leash and running through the desert freely, arriving at the top of the volcano just in time to watch the glorious sunset and the shimmering reflective lights of the city. It was gorgeous and I had not one care in the world. Because of our vantage point, we watched two sunsets that night and I will never forget the wet, waggling tongues of two happy dogs, several friends and I drinking coffee (COFFEE!!), and just enjoying telling stories about my life and the stuff I’d done. Amusing, good company, and totally fun. Then, we walked down the hillside with flashlights in hand and no idea where the dogs had taken off to. They were waiting for us at the truck. We hopped in and drove to my house and had dinner. A great memory.

I thought about this as the media just announced that another woman’s body (the 13th!) had been found on the west mesa. I now live in almost that very spot where we had to drive, in four-wheel-drive, to get to the little dirt road that took us to the volcano. This is only a couple of miles from where they’ve been finding bodies. There is no way in hell I would let my dogs run freely in the desert now because the rattlesnake population is so concentrated in this area (due to urban sprawl) that I’m sure lil’ Mojo would get eaten. There’s no way in hell I would be walking around in that area by myself, either.

Still… It’s unnerving to think that, just 20 years ago, I walked with such bravado and, while I had a tremendous amount of awareness, so little fear.

How times have changed and how old and careful I’ve become.

Maybe I should bungee jump, or something.

The most dangerous thing I will do today will be to entrust someone with cutting and highlighting my hair. (You. Have. No. Idea. How. Dangerous. This. Is!)

Yeah; you go girl!