That bird of mine

I share a lot of things in common with my dad. We don't talk about our feelings like any good Hoosier, we both love women and a good drink, and we both like to gamble. I mentioned before that my dad worked on the railroad for at least 40 years. He once told me after I finished grad school that he always wondered why I didn't choose a job where I actually made something useful, you know, like most folks he knew. A little time and therapy cured that sting, but you know, that's how it is in the Midwest, especially when you're of a certain age. Practical, biting, direct. But there's more to a person than just what they say. Words are one thing, actions are another. My preference is for the later as is his.

So yeah, I'm not sure my dad's ever going to understand or appreciate what I went to school for or what I do for a living. That's okay. I always know where I stand with him. I also know he's never going to say what I know he feels, that's not his style and never has been. He'd rather show those things in his own understated ways. Ways that don't have words. I know that's driven more than a few women away in his life, he's not perfect. We're a lot alike. But I like to think I'm at least willing to take all that useful information I learned in school and make something useful, like a change. Or a widget. Or love, not war.

All of the above is an aside to the fact that this morning, I talked to my dad and we were discussing gambling (our shared vice). He won at poker on Thursday by having a pair of nines in his hands when a pair of nines came on the flop. But more impressive is that he told me that some of his friends were going down to Louisville for the Derby and he gave them a couple hundred dollars to bet for him. His instructions were to only put money on the horses that were 15:1 or higher. Bet every horse whose odds were worse than that. The big payoff. The horse that won today was one called Mine That Bird, a 50-1 longshot.

Say what you will, but people often play things too safe. Sometimes you gotta put your money where your mouth is. Longshots rarely win. But sometimes they do.



ETA: Update from dad, he had $10 on that horse so the payoff was $500.

Why does she get to have all the fun?

Well hello there, abuelitas. What up?

I have not too much to report in general, but will summarize a few key points regarding my life, this planet, and everything else of late:

1. I just got off the phone with my dad in Indiana. Among the many things we discussed (e.g., the lake being dredged, painting the bathroom, bedding down the flowers for winter, my cuckcoo clock (that he bought me), donating items for the new historical society depot, what are my plans for thanksgiving (I am going back home for a few days and he has signed me up for a $50 Texas Hold'Em buy-in game on Sat already), visiting the VFW in my old small town, and his plans to go to one of those new fangled flu shot drive-through windows he saw advertised), we talked about politics a bit. Personally, I can hardly believe IN is deadlocked at the moment and even more so, I am amazed that my dad plans to vote for Obama. Amazed for many many reasons having to do with my dad and his age and Indiana and various and sundry other issues (read: racism), but there you go. His main argument though is that he doesn't think that an old guy like McCain can clean up the mess that the damn Republicans put us in and that it's going to require a young guy. Whatever works, I say.

2. I have a cold which I am pretending not to have and which made me hunker down in my apt last night. But here is the great thing about last night in my apartment: Not a single trick or treater! You know how I feel about Halloween so was thrilled with the fact that I did not have to leave my place of residence to avoid the hobgoblins.

3. On Thurs, I sat through a government agency awards ceremony for which Robotech received one such award. I came away with the impression that there exists an Office of the Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Assistant Commissioner of the Office of the Assistant Deputy Director of the Secretary of a Cabinet Level Agency. Yay, bureaucracy!

4. My friends back home have not forgotten me. They texted me all last night telling of the adventures of a small cardboard cutout of me that they made by gluing a picture of my face on it and have placed me upon a stick. They made several of these and they pull out Cardboard Me at various/sundry events and take pictures of me doing (often naughty) things with people, animals, and objects. Aww, isn't that sweet? Apparently, they lost the one of me in blond wig one winter night last year while out drinking - she was the Jezebel whore of the bunch so god knows what she's doing with some stranger as we speak.

When I was back there in Sept for a wedding, my strai friend A (who keeps CB me in a potted plant or a cup full of pens most of the time) insisted that I take pictures with myself, one of which was very very wrong on many levels. Placing my tongue upon my own cardboard breasts = kinky! Good times, good times..

ETA: Here I am holding myself which is weird to say:



ETA2: My friend sent me a picture from Fri night where I apparently was enjoying a little beer with my chili -- I assume things got steamer as the night wore on. I was probably tucked into the bosom of a hooker or the asscrack of a go-go boy by night's end.




5. FYI - still in love with a hockey-loving eh-saying dark sexy soft Canadian drummer!

That is all, good day to you and don't forget to vote for the young guy on Tues!

Let the train whistle blow

And now for something not-so-completely different.

I talked to my Dad yesterday and found out that he had been robbed. Someone actually broke into their house in the middle of the day and took a bunch of old money he had been collecting. He's still trying to figure out what all is missing, but mostly silver certificate dollars and old silver coins etc. Even though it sucked, he didn't seem to be too upset about it. I know I would have been on an ass-kicking mission to find the punks. I had The Agent call him and chat, not that she can do anything other than he likes her and they tease each other. She offered to interrogate any persons of interest for him. He once called and told her he had found an old bone on his lake property and wondered whether she'd want to come investigate it and see if it was Jimmy Hoffa. My dad looks a lot like Johnny Cash, even more so as he's gotten older but also when he was younger. He's a retired railroad man and right now, a pretty damn good Texas Hold 'em player. He taught me how to fish, how to golf, how to drive. He indulged my tomboy ways when I was a kid and coached my softball team, bought me a bb gun, and took me to Dairy Queen for lunch. When my parents got divorced when I was 10, he stayed close and eventually, remarried. I got a boatload of new step-brothers and sisters. My first car was one of his, a 76 Buick Regal that I still miss. He came to football games when I was in college and he has helped me move more times than I care to count. He was the first person I called the night my mom died. I knew I would need his help figuring out what to do next. Our conversations now consist of the following things: the weather, sports, how my car is running, birds, what's happening at the Navy Club, what project am I working on in the shop, and what The Agent is up to these days. You know, surface stuff. Since my mom died, we have had a couple of very personal, intense conversations -- which are often a curse and a blessing. I have found that as I get older, the truth doesn't necessarily get any easier to hear and it's impossible to resist. I'm one of those people who would rather know than not, even if knowing is the more painful choice. So my dad and I now walk that line between doing the Midwestern thing of talking about everything but what really needs to be said and truth-telling. I'm more like him than I realize at times and I'm perfectly content to talk about Bobby Knight and the cold front that's coming through today, better get the car in to be winterized and what time is it now in Indiana - an hour ahead or an hour behind?

Hot Hot Heat

Yeah, so it's a hundred here. Pretty typical summer in the middle of the country. I've always hated the heat, it's way too draining and as it is, my energy level is low so I'm moving at a snail's pace most days.

So let's see, I went to Indiana to visit my dad and sister last weekend. Long drive across Missouri and Illinois - 70 never changes. The trip was as it has been: equal parts depressing/sad and familiar. Seems like every time I go home, I come back with fodder for my therapist. Good times! Spent most of the time fishing with my dad and slowly driving a pontoon around Big Long Lake. There's something oddly relaxing driving a large platform .5 knots/hr - no one ever rushes anywhere on a pontoon. I used to fish quite a bit with my dad and still enjoy it, neither one of us are talkers so we sit there in the sun watching for our bobbers to move, occasionally one of us will whisper "here fishy fishy". It was nice, even though I felt like I consumed 2 cases of Bud Light and had one heck of a sunburn. Still..it feels empty and strange every time I go back.

Other news is that while there, we made an offer on a house in a new town and will be moving the middle of next month. So there's lots to do between now/then. Luckily half the stuff is already packed and the remaining shouldn't take too long. Don't think we won't be hiring guys with a truck to move all our shit. I've moved my own stuff enough times over the years to be done with that. Plus we've got big heavy shit and it will be hot. I have no qualms spending that money. Very excited though about the new place, 2.3 acres on the outskirts of town. Lots of room, even a detached shop. I can't even tell you how excited I am to be back near my peeps. Even though I lived 35 mins away, the drive to/from for visits was annoying and limiting. I will actually be able to entertain again. And cook for more than 2 people! And have good restaurants to go to! And shows! And we won't be living here in this god awful city! Praise the baby jesus!

So last night at 2:15am, I hear guy voices outside our bedroom window. Now, on that side of the house, there's basically an open field and people just don't go traipsing through it, esp at that hour. So the dog barks, I get up, and our motion light goes off and I see this teenager jogging to the road. I go to the front window and the dogs are barking and there are about 4 guys walking down the road. I don't think they were doing anything more than drinking beer and wandering around. I even go outside after they passed to make sure they were headed on down the road and not out slashing tires/stealing hubcaps. I considered calling the cops, but decided they weren't causing any serious trouble and I was young once, sneaking out drinking beer in the middle of the night during the summer. So during this entire event, dogs barking and me checking out the situation, The Agent is snoring. This morning I had to inform my little law enforcement officer that she was seriously sleeping on the job. She was all "why didn't you wake me up!" and truthfully, if I was actually scared of these kids, I would have. But it was no big (other than being slightly startling). She left this morning for two weeks of training in DC so I'm bachloretting it up (hello, cocaine and strippers!). I did ask that she leave one of her Glocks here with me, just in case - you know how I feel about guns in general (well, beyond the fetish!), but I had to admit that I'd rather have it handy than not should something occur in the middle of the night again. Aim high, shoot low..

So what else? I've been listening to lots of Beck lately, Guero. Other stuff. Does anyone really care what's on someone else's iPod? I doubt it, but here's what's been playing tonight on mine:

Romeo and Juliet - Dire Straits
Drive - Melissa Ferrick
Hurt - Johnny Cash
I'll Be You - The Replacements
Ceremony - New Order
Lazy Line Painter Jane - Belle and Sebastian
Blue Veins - The Raconteurs
Black Star - Gillian Welch (awesome cover of Radiohead's song)
17 Days - Prince

and

"Broken Drum"

I see you there
Your long black hair
Your eyes just stare
Your mind is turning

You know I'll laugh
And I won't take it back
I've seen your eyes I know
What your thinking

And one by one
We'll shoot our guns
We'll have fun
Don't ever doubt it

And when I say
Fare thee well
My only friend
Oh how the days go

Your setting sun
Your broken drum
Your little drugs

I'll never forget you
Never
Forget
You - Beck

Communism and TAINTED MILK!

I kinda have to share this letter with you that I got from my Dad this week. I love that man, but I have to say he gets a little unhinged about the topic of smokers rights. Yes you heard me. The right to smoke. It's like his Roe v Wade.

See, I'm all for prohibiting smoking in restaurants and bars because I don't smoke and like not having to be around it to have a meal or drink. He of course is a lifelong smoker. Two worlds colliding so we go round and round about it. He clipped something out of his local newspaper this week and sent it in the mail along with a letter. I'm transcribing the letter for you word for word. Don't judge him, he just wants us to live free or die.

Hey Peanut,

April 26th - 2008 - Remember this date 28 years from now - I think by then you will look back and say what happened? We let a few city councils, county, state & government agencies make all the decisions that affect our lives. What next?

Well you can't eat this or drink that or drive that car or truck and on and on - I'm sure the word is "communism" I'm sure you have read about Japan - Germany - North Korea & Russia and others that had to live by it. Not a pretty picture but it happened.

So with all that said, I shall say no more "well maybe" on the subject. However I have decided to stay around for another 30 years to see how your generation is going to survive and handle the problems the government has decided for you.

Love ya, Dad

Breaker Breaker 19

Well hello there, good buddy. Got your ears on? Man, doesn't that take you back to like 1979? When people actually had CB radios in their car? Like my dad? And that 10 foot antenna? (secret: My "handle" on the CB back in the day was a nickname my dad still calls me to this very day. Yep, I was once known throughout a 10 mile radius in northern Indiana as "Peanut". Oh yeah, you better look out, Peanut's gonna get all up in your grill, mister Big Rig Red. The sad thing is that I only remember ever getting one person to ever talk to me on the CB and it ended up being this like 8 year old girl in my same small hometown. Apparently, Peanut was not that popular in citizen's band radio back in the day and now has to write a blog entry about it 27 years later. I am digressing so I shall stop..)

What the hell was I even going on about to begin with? Oh yeah, a weekend wrap up of my activities because someone in Iowa or Arizona or Tehran really really cares. Granted, that person in Tehran is just hoping I talk about something 'nippy fucky' again. I'm here to please so here is what I did, more or less.

Saturday, I took the Big Dog to the vet because she had developed a 'hot spot' on her hind end. We used to have a dog growing up that would get 'hot spots', these itchy places that he would lick and chew on all summer and we'd have to put this Sulfadine stuff on it. Back in the day, it was a whole lot cheaper to have a dog b/c they didn't have all this newfangled 'veterinary medicine' business. Basically, you only went to the vet if your dog got run over (which sadly, eventually occurred to this one at the ripe old age of 16...further digression: the girl who hit him, a bitchy shrew I cursed at from three blocks away, I found out later had just then discovered she was pregnant at 16...it's no excuse of course and it didn't make me hate her less, but man, what a day to have huh? Find out you're pregnant and run over a dog known and loved by the whole town). Back on point, I took the dog into the vet today and $175 later (though some of it for tick stuff..they are bad out here), she received a shot of steroids and antibiotics. Apparently the days of treating such things with a $.89 bottle of Sulfadine are gone.

So if you recall, I was planning on going to the Mystics game yeah? Well, I decided instead to accompany The Agent down to Crystal City to have dinner with some people neither one of us knew. I should have stuck to my original game plan. After a decent drive over to Hotel Land (aka Arlington, VA), we ate at an Italian place. (I am not going to name it here b/c I suddenly had an irrational fear that one of my dining companions might google it for some reason, recognize me, and then read about how they were insufferably pretentious and lacking in all sense of humor...seriously, when a lesbian is talking about lesbians playing golf and you go 'Gosh, I had no idea lesbians liked golf!' expecting to get a chuckle b/c most lesbians I know would find that just a little bit humorous, not sidesplitting but you know, enough to nod your head knowingly and go heh, yet the person just seriously nods at you and goes on to explain that why yes, lesbians do like golf and in fact there's a local league etc etc. It was at this point I started thinking about Lindsay Whalen driving to the basket and I asked why god why am I here). Back to the restaurant. I love Italian and was looking forward to a good meal. Don't you hate it though when you go to a place that looks really nice and promises to be really good and instead you get mediocre Italian food that you could pay less for at the Olive Garden? Oh man..it was bad. Not even three glasses of grigio could save the dinner or the conversation. Good times..

Sunday, I painted my toenails a lovely shade of 'purple haze'. I also had a million hour phone conversation with A who celebrated her birthday yesterday. We spent the majority of it discussing what I would buy her for her birthday if I won the lottery (in no particular order: a pony, a brewery, a huge house attached to a brewery and a winery, capris, her own Victoria's Secret store, a car and driver to take us places, all forms of Le Crousset cookware, an NBA player who is not a douchebag, rings, shoes, tank tops, a personal chef, our favorite pizza delivered anywhere in the world, apartments/houses all over the world, cute sparkly pretty things, etc etc). You can understand why that conversation lasted a million hours. She also caught me up on the hometown gossip, who's sleeping with who, who's doing too many drugs, who is a being weird, etc. Good times.

There you go, my weekend in a not so nutshell and in all its nippy fucky detail. Wee!

Doors Closing Step Back Doors Closing Step Back

Moving right along as it were, when I used to visit DC, I thought the Metro was a novelty. Look! This wondrous invention takes you places quickly and cheaply! You get tickets just like in the movies! Oh my, how cosmopolitan it all is. Granted it wasn't the famed NYC Subway of those same movies, but hey. Same idea, less stinky.

Where I grew up and spent most of my time, such an invention was reserved for Big Cities on the East Coast. Everyone drives in the Midwest (and apparently, LA or so I hear). Hell, I drove myself to elementary school on a lawn tractor. Kidding, but you learned to drive young in Indiana and such places. I practiced steering the family car when I was like 8 while my dad drove. Golf carts, lawn tractors, bikes, crazy-ass "cars" we built out of wood and modeled after the Little Rascals (you know the one episode where the "firetruck" was powered by a dog on a conveyor belt chasing after ducks in a cage? Man, don't get me started on the Little Rascals or we'll be here all night). If it had wheels, we drove that fucker.

Trains were things in my dad's world. He was a yardmaster and he put trains together and told them where to go. Or at least that was his explanation to me of what he did. Trains were for hauling grain and boxcars and cabooses (when they used to exist). Trains ran on the outskirts of towns with railroad crossings and whistles in the middle of the night and the only people who rode them were 'hobos' or Ruth and Idgie. Point being, trains and subways existed outside of my own personal sphere of experience.

Well, after living here for all of what, 2.5 months, I can now say that the novelty of riding the Metro has officially worn off. Boy, it went quick too after I had to ride it almost from one end of a line to the other twice on Friday. When I stepped off the train around midnight and waited at the Greenbelt station for a ride home, I literally thought "Damn, this is going to get old real quick".

I am currently working on the necessary Metro-face of indifference and boredom wherein you exist in a bubble. You know the look, right? Complete lack of affect, no acknowledgment of other humans, glazed eyes, blank stare. Most people complement this look with iPods or a book/newspaper. This helps you deal with the drunks and leering men and screaming children.

To be honest, I never wanted to become one of those commuters with Metro-face. I sort of like being engaged in life and people and you know, saying hi and have a good one. Unfortunately, my Midwestern ways are in for a challenge. Starting next week, I will become a bonafide DC "commuter" and take the Metro clear down to "NOVA" and go to work in a high-rise and put on my Metro-face when I shuffle with the crowd at L'Enfant Plaza to get on the green line home.

Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about seeing how this new life pans out, but I'm also a little apprehensive about being around this many people all the time. I have a feeling that, like the Metro, the novelty of living here will wear off sooner than I expected. Until then, the doors are closing, step back. Next station, Metro Center.


ps. In true girl form, I have changed my mind about making this blog private and creating a whole new blog. Decided to say 'fuck it' and take my lumps if they should come. Chalk it up to a minor freak out, we all get a free pass to have one once in a while yes?

Hoosier daddy

So I am back in Indiana for a long weekend, visiting my dad who had a bit of a health scare (PSA: 50 years of smoking takes a toll, btw. Eventually you will lose the ability to breathe without the aid of oxygen and eventually your lungs and heart will just give up one day, but not today - the more you know..)

Here is what I have done so far no kidding:

1. Played poker and won $130 bucks from old men/women
2. Slept and/or napped. A lot.
3. Installed a tiny little fence around a flower garden while it was cold/rainy
4. Drove my dad's big car to my old hometown and by my old house and was sad all over again
5. Went to not one, but two sad townie bars in Ft. Fun with my oldest friend in world, the second of which was on 'country karaoke night' and in which an older gentleman sang this song after which the blond karaoke host had to cheer up the room with some busta rhymes I don't make this stuff up, it happens.
6. Too many fried foods
7. Trains and more trains.
8. Got sucked into re-watching When Harry Met Sally
9. Coors light (too many, but not enough)

I think I am ready to go back home.

Hoosier daddy?

Hello from Indiana - the red part of the state!



So I am visiting my dad for just a few days, I have to drive back to the city on Monday, but until then, I am soaking up some serious Midwest. I played the shit out of poker yesterday - Texas Hold'Em to be exact. They like their gambling and their smoking in this part of the country - I probably second-hand smoked a carton of Marlboro's yesterday while kicking ass in the cash game. Small sacrifices to hone one's poker skills.

I was in Cleveland over Thanksgiving and it was much needed - lots of cooking and sipping beverages and hanging in hottub and playing music and Wii and sitting by the fire and talking and laughing and you know, living. It's nice to do that on occasion.

It's snowing now and the weather is supposed to be shitty all around so good thing not driving back today. Here is the baby dog looking out into my dad's backyard while it snows and while she watches the squirrels. I left the big dog back with the agent for this trip so it's just baby dog and me. I woke up this morning and she was snoring in my face with her head on my pillow. Dogs..



I'm going to take a trip to see my old home town and my old house, check things out a bit and maybe take a picture or two. I am much appreciating the open space and cornfields, definitely gives me a chance to breathe. We all need a dose of that once in a while I say. Or at least I do. You city folk can have your constant noise and a million people if it works for you - whatever floats your boat/makes you happy and hello, in the profound words of that philosopher Sheryl Crow: If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad (which quite frankly I think is a fallacy because presumably doing meth makes some people happy but no one is out saying 'smoke it if you got it', you know?).

Where was I? Oh yes, northern Indiana. I ain't complaining.

not dead yet

I have returned to Dumb City with a cold and a shitty attitude, therefore I shall only say a few words so as not to come off as the bitter, sick shrew I feel like today:

1. Happy B-day (yesterday) to my literary girlfriend and Promises bunkmate, Miss Vivian Darkbloom. Who shall ever forget the soiree we had for her in 1978? It rivaled Capote's Black and White party, only we called it the Sequins and Nude party. Were it not for a ridiculous call to the fire department and an unfortunate misunderstanding between María del Rosario Pilar Martínez Molina Baeza de Rasten (aka Charo) and George Hamilton, that party would have gone down in history. C'est la life. (Also a happy belated bday to Pip and Winny! Libras will rule the world one day, I am convinced.)

2. My visit to my dad's was lovely. Perfect weather. Pontoon. A sunburn. Fishing. And I had the pleasure of having breakfast in what some people would call a small-town diner, but I would call a bait store/gambling parlor that serves eggs and fried potatoes on the side. Good times. I also drove a practically blind, speech impaired, hard of hearing drunken old man around on his golf cart. His name was Pooch. One time, Pooch, after a long day and many Natural Lites, mistook the gas for the break and drove his golf cart into the porch of his trailer, narrowly missing the propane tank. Pooch was also wearing shorts that no man of his age and/or weight should wear. Good times, good times. Gotta love the Hoosier state.

3. I am just now reading the last Harry Potter book which has been making my Metro commute falsely appear shorter. Somehow I've remained unspoiled and am enjoying it. However, not to sound all sunny-happy-days-are-here-again, the 8 mile drive down I-95 is going to kill me before the end of this week. Every day, morning and night, it has inched along. I have lost all patience with people and their stupid cars and their stupid whatevers -- I engaged in some primal scream therapy this morning when I saw the backup again. Somehow, shouting the MF word over and over again did not help. I wonder if I should try shouting something more positive? Any suggestions?

And thus, I bring the shrew full circle. I wish I could get it up to be excited that today is Wednesday or that I had finally worked for and achieved world peace, but alas and alak, all I can do is buck up like a good soldier! Enough of this bullshit! Come on now!

Me and you and what we'd do for money

So I lost a week of my life in DC and haven't quite recovered from last week because I came back and am swamped with the work that I started there and that makes me money here but man, sometimes you sell your soul and wonder why. So much drama from that place and I feel like I'm stuck a little bit in the vortex of it, sucked down by my own choice. I should have realized that my time back home would cost more than they could pay but I played the game to screw someone over who had screwed me over etc etc the cycle goes on. I'm trying to be cryptic a bit but honestly, I have no one to blame for this but myself. Plus without the above, this house would not have been mine so you do what you have to do which is the lesson learned in DC. I just have to do this a bit longer and then I will cut the cord for good. Isn't this a great middle-class whine? I should not complain given the state of things here and there and everywhere. I guess I should have known it was going to take more than farm therapy to shed the damage. Another lesson learned.

What else? It is hotter than a motherfuck here (pardon my language) but we are on day 3 of 100+ temps. Which means the weather sucks the life out of me too because I am a baby about the heat. Black dogs are not appreciating it either so we do our walks in the early morning to avoid. The best thing about now though is that the cicadas are so loud it's like this constant hum that reminds me of home. And also this home. Which I like.

I haven't had a chance to unpack hardly anything. Does that sound familiar? My friends find it odd that I can live with the boxes still hanging out and are offering to help me unpack at every turn. I'm still deciding what goes where and also have not had time to do the unpacking (see above work whine) and when not doing (above), I have been getting big doses of hanging with my friends which also makes the (above) not even remotely appealing. Plus this is like travel month for me with the DC and western Kansas and Southern Missouri and San Antonio = I have no time, people. None. Oh and my dad is coming to visit next weekend and I am having a huge party and I guess I should probably unpack the bar and glasses and move things so people can sit even though I got rid of furniture etc etc. The upside is that I bought a washer and dryer to be delivered on Friday which makes me sound as old as you think. This is how I roll.

On that note, I've got to get some shit done because it's all coming down with deadlines that I think I may not be able to make but at this point, it is what it is as they say. Despite the tone of this post, I can guarantee that I am 90% happier now than I have been in probably 15 years or more which is saying something so I will suck it up and deal. Holla..


It is a lion's science fiction wings
Just like a jolly dizzy for zero, one, three times
The size of the people that came before
Me and you and what we'd do for money

This greed and jealousy turn to need
See, I'm a man with a plan to use my hands
I'm touching yours, you're the girl who wanted more
Now, baby, the story has faded from love to lie - Rilo Kiley Dreamworld

Does weary mean wiser?

Dear friends and foes,

Alas, I think this might be the last update for a while. Yes, the circus is leaving town and I must pack my bags and follow. This is the life of a trapzee groupie. We go where we must to watch others fly.

I need not tell you that I am barely standing. First, I have not slept decently in several weeks. Second, my friends have insisted on making me drink pretty much 24/7. Third, there's that whole packing/getting ready to move business (summary: lists of things to do, we sold the house yay!, endless sorting, where's my checkbook? errand running, will I need this? muscle strain/knots - thank god for a massage appointment monday, disassembling too much shit that I just assembled five months ago, trying to cram in last minute visits/lunches/drinks, etc etc, I could go on but why). And finally, my head's been completely off in Baltimore making future plans.

So yes. The upside is I've stumbled upon a fabulous weight loss plan! It's called stress and anxiety! You should try it! Why the fuck was I riding my bike and not drinking when I could drop pounds with no effort on my part at all. I'm actually a pretty laid back person, not Type A at all, so it's not like I'm running around wailing Stress! Anxiety! It's nicely internalized like any good Midwesterner but my body bears the brunt of it. Ah well, things could always be worse so one must buck up like a good little soldier and carry on.

So after this weekend, my internet access will be limited to driveby Starbucks and a lonely 12kb dialup modem in Indiana. I will be driving across country with two dogs and my ipod. I will be spending some time in the Hoosier state and some time in the Buckeye state before heading down to the Crab state.

What I am hoping to do for you is document my journey. You always wanted to see that scary big ass 150ft white cross off of I-70 in Effingham, Illinois, haven't you? Oh I will take a picture of it for you. I will also take pictures of gas stations in Missouri with their genuine walnut bowls for sale. I will take pictures of barren corn fields in Indiana. I will take a picture of Cleveland for you. I will take pictures of I don't even know what in Pennsylvania and wherever the hell else I have to drive through to get down to the Crab. God, I think maybe New Jersey might be involved. I may do a little mono-blogging while on this journey. I will upload these missives when/if I can.

Doesn't that sound like fun? Come now, a 1126.3 mile journey in my Honda Civic packed with things the movers won't take, two 60lb blacks dogs and me? You are up for that, don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes, you so want to come with. You are itching to play some serious Texas Hold Em with my dad and me, drink lots of wine in a hottub in Cleveland, and get into a fist fight with me in New Jersey.

In fact, I'm so jealous of myself right now, I can barely stand it. Which is exactly why I am getting the fuck out of the house right now and going off to drink with A because she just called and reminded me that I will be gone in five days and hello, I still have obligations to fill as her gay girlfriend. This is how it has been for weeks now. I don't even know me anymore.

I'll check in when I can, post pictures and vids if possible, and think about you fondly while going slightly crazy for all the right and wrong reasons. Stay out of trouble until then, I shall miss all three of you who read this blog! See you in rehab!



Not driving away from myself
It's just myself drove away from me
And now I gotta get it back and it goes so fast, so I am traveling again

- Traveling (I) - Dar Williams

deep dish

Well, 12 hours later and I feel better. Thank you baby jesus!

So I have one more work meeting tomorrow and that will close out what is feeling like a very long week. We'll be going downtown for this one so I'm hoping to get view of the lake. I'm hoping it will end early so I can get on the road and beat the traffic.

Instead of going right back to DC, I extended my stay for the weekend and am heading over to my dad's lake place in Indiana to do a little fishing and relaxing. How about you drive the pontoon around the lake, I'll sit in a lawnchair up front with a beer, we'll stop here and there to throw a line in and not care if we catch anything, and you can wear a floppy fishing hat. Sound good?

Here fishy fishy...

Paint drying, grass growing, wind blowing

I wish I had more to report than stories about my poker prowess (final table yesterday, but alas, I lost patience and the cards did not fall my way. I was, however, the final woman standing and gave the guys a run for their money. I consider that a success even if I didn't make the money cut).

I am reluctantly bumping up my timeframe to head on over to The Crab. The Agent is getting antsy all under the guise of 'missing the dogs'. Plus, I suppose it's probably a good idea to get there and you know, figure out where things are, like oh, say the grocery store and a dog park or two and last/not least, the nearest liquor store. Before that, I shall spend St. Patricks day in Cleveland. There will be drinking and music and good food and a hottub. If I could add one more thing to that mix (um), I'd call it a day.

So yes. Things are slow here. But what has been amusing me is the whole time change thing. As you may/may not know, for many many years, Indiana was one of the few states that did not adhere to that whole time change business. Growing up, that whole idea was foreign to me. When I moved out of state, I literally would get just a teensy bit angst about when I would have to "spring ahead/fall back" because hello, we never learned that shit. We were either on Ohio time or an hour behind. That's how we measured it. Well, I followed from afar the big stink the Hoosier peeps were having about going with the time change I think last year or something? You thought abortion was a hot political topic? Try daylight savings time in Indiana. Lordy. So this whole past week leading up to last night, the local papers and news programs have been on this constant "Now remember, turn your clocks ahead an hour this Sat. That's an hour ahead now. Don't forget". And guess what? Just as I finished writing that sentence, I answered a call on my dad's phone from one of their friends (who mistook me for my stepmom) and the first thing out of whoever that woman's mouth was "I just remembered, we have to set our clocks ahead, don't we? What time is it over there?" and I said "It's noon" and she goes "I thought so, but I was looking at the TV and it said 11 so I wanted to call and make sure. Thanks. Goodbye". I am not kidding, I just had that conversation.

You know, sometimes, I miss this state and all its quirky little charm. I mean, come on, doesn't this picture just call to you? When you sing "There's more than corn, in Indiana...", you know you are engaging in just a little bit of wishful thinking. Me? I've always been a little partial to corn fields and pickup trucks. I just never know what time it is here anymore..no one does.

Random Sampling and Abnormal Distributions

Holla, all you data geeks!

Oh Win, you had to go and do it. This whole tagging business. I'm resisting...resisting...

...but I can only write about the damn Metro for so long before even I click my own hollaback button. So. No guarantees re: scintillating details, these are just the random facts, Ma'am.

Rules:
We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.


1. I had my one and only nosebleed for the first time ever in my life three nights ago and got all light-headed based on the quantity and vivid color. Lohan might be used to such things given her, um, happy pants , but this is all new to me and I would like to pass on having another such event.

2. One time, when I was like 9 or 10, I played on this softball team and we were in the championship game. I was a scrawny skinny little thing, but I was fast and had a good arm. I was playing the spot they called 'rover' which is kinda behind second base and sorta outfieldy. They stuck all the little kids in the outfield b/c they figured no one would ever hit that far. I have no actual memory of this, but my dad recently told me a story about that game where apparently, there were two outs and we were winning (glued to the screen by this riveting random fact yet?) by like 1 or something. The other team was up to bat and one of their best hitters was up. A big girl, I guess. So she ends up hitting this line drive that's totally going to go over my head and win the game. According to the story, I apparently threw my skinny little arm up, caught the ball, and fell down with it still in my mitt. Now here is where you would think I would remember something of this magnitude: My teammates all ran to me and lifted me on their shoulders and carried me off the field in joyous celebration. Like total fucking movie or something. Seriously. And I can't remember this?

3. I stole a car once when I was 15. Granted, it was my mom's and I only drove it around the block while she was bowling and she never knew it was missing. Speaking of bowling, I recently just threw away like 5 old bowling trophies of mine from when I was a kid. Yeah, I bowled. Remember, we're talking Indiana.

4. I wrote my entire PhD in a month just to prove my advisor wrong, that I actually could write it in a month. Sidebar I: I had the data already collected, but still. Sidebar II: I gave up drinking beer, smoking pot, and sleeping during that month. Sidebar III: I thanked my dog in the acknowledgements. Sidebar IV: If I can do it, you can too, Mrs V!

5. Four years ago, while back home visiting my mom, I witnessed and was the first on the scene of a head-on car accident on a perfectly sunny summer morning. My mom was in the car with me and we were traveling on a two lane country highway. The minivan in front of us was weaving back and forth across the lanes, almost hitting cars coming at us. I slowed way down and was just reaching for my cell phone to call the cops when the accident happened. The car he hit spun around and landed in our lane, his minivan flipped and went into the other lane. I pulled over and ran up to the car, the smell of burning oil was kind of sweet. I hate that smell now. The older lady in the car was in shock. I reached in and touched her shoulder, talked to her. She kept asking what happened and fading in and out of shock. There was blood, not a lot, but enough. She had also lost most of the fingernails off of her hand and blood was coming from her ear. I know now that it visually could have been a lot worse and am thankful it wasn’t. I just kept talking to her and telling her help was coming; my mom found her watch in the roadway and put it in her car. They had to cut off the top of the car and the doors to get her out. It wasn’t until a couple of hours later that I realized I had her blood on my pants. The driver of the minivan was an older man too, we never knew why he drove head-on and hit that car and we never found out whether the older woman lived. I won’t forget that day. It makes me wonder about the guy who witnessed my mom’s accident a year later and came up on the scene first. I know his name from the police report. What did he see and what does he remember most? Actually, I’m kind of glad I don’t know the story he tells about that night.

6. The longest I've ever gone in my life without having a dog is 1 year. Growing up, our dog Alex used to walk with me to school and lay out in front of the doors until it was over and walk me home. He would do the same when I walked downtown to the grocery store. Everyone knew him in town and he used to lay in the street in front of our house and watch the cars go by, everyone just drove around him. My yellow dog in grad school had the softest ears and when we went camping, she would search for the highest place near us so she could guard. She loved to canoe too. One of my current black dogs, the baby dog, reminds me alot of her, very gentle and sweet. I can't imagine not having a dog.

7. I have fallen all dorky-crazy in love with a lone wolf Canadian drummer girl!

8. In the tradition of costumes, my old friend J and I once dressed up as Isis. Remember that show? Eight years later in the trunk of my old car under my spare tire, I found the 80's gold belt from that costume. It's now back in style I think, I saw someone wearing one on the Metro today. Niiiice.

Alas, I don't have 8 people to tag, but Mona and vivvy, please indulge me and keep this chain letter going and you will have good luck for 8 years. Or something. It's way gay, just do it!

Back Home Again In Indiana

Lordy!

Two things: Through a miracle of miracles, I have access to an unsecured wireless network. I know. In Indiana. At my dad's house. This fact has been celebrated as the saving grace of my sanity by me and those who care about me and my sanity = you. Thank fucking god! Second, for some reason, I had a hell of a time logging into this damned blogger site until I found a backdoor in. Yeah, slap my ass and call me Washingtonienne but sign me up for some backdoor loving!

Yes so I'm here. The drive was long, long. I am still feeling it. Now that I've found a way to update this damn thing, I'll post more later, but for now, you get to be entertained by my drive. And before you ask, yes, I took these while driving and yes, I am very good with my hands.

Behold the beauty of our Midwest!

Missouri: A Place Where People Actually Live

Special Tree at Special Rest Stop

Again with the Bottom Theme

Apparently, This is Mighty and Starts in Minnesota

Repenting My Highway Sins

Wide Open Spaces in Illinois

Wind Beneath Big Dog's Wings

Wants to Be There Already

Bored Now

On the Banks of the Wabash

Good head, huh?

Sadly, it's come to this. You've heard of phone sex. Maybe you've even "talked" about some pressing "issues" with your gf/bf/lover/dad/cousin. Last night. Or whatever. I don't judge.

But have you ever heard of phone beer?

As you know, I have a long distance straight girlfriend, A. We tried to replace me when I left, but that turned into a half-assed failure on the part of the two straight people (guy and girl) who tried to be the kind of gay girlfriend I was. (Future reference: don't let a strai do the work of a gay).

Anyway, A then decided that I would simply become her long distance gay girlfriend. Hence, a thousand texts and emails about shopping, guys, shoes, her hair, what a whore she's become, drinking, tank tops, capris, jizz, etc etc. You get the picture. Nothing has really changed except me not actually being there.

However, we've stepped up the LDR a bit and we are now engaging in phone beer together. It's all her fault as the following email exchange back/forth shows:

A: Can you tell I'm drunk?!

(This in reference to pictures she sent from our favorite drinking establishment. And for the record, the short/long answer as depicted in said pictures was a resounding Hell Yeah)

Me: yes, you have 'drunken whore' written all over your face

A: it was a blast! you should have been there. :)

Me: thanks for reminding me that i can't be!

A: well, you just need to come back and visit. or, i'll just come out there. so...stop bothering me. i can have a phone beer with you tonight


So yeah, when you can't be there to drink with your peeps in person, there's always phone beer to satisfy your needs. Good times, good times..

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take this call and you know, I'm gonna need both hands ifyouknowwhatImeanandIthinkyoudo!

the storm had passed over you

Sidebar: I am kind of jealous of people getting so much snow. My people in Kansas got a bunch, my dad in Indiana says a couple of feet, Drummer Girl in Canada is having a blizzard, and we get rain. I would love nothing more than to be all hunkered down on this Sunday in a blizzard with the snow coming down all crazy, football on the teevee, a little cooking, some napping, and all the other good stuff you can spend your time doing when trapped indoors (with someone). That would be my perfect winter Sunday. Instead, I'm doing laundry.

Also, I have to tell you that I'm on a Ryan Adams kick these days so much so that this song is killing me with the whole fading out business. That is all.

Nothing good ever lasts

A friend of mine, from back in my favorite state, lost her dad today, a bear of a guy who I liked a great deal even though he was a prickly old pear. A farmer who collected old tractors and voted Republican, he was nonetheless a decent man who told a dirty joke or three and appreciated the meatball recipe I would bring to Thanksgiving.

So tonight I am going through four flashdrives, one harddrive, and one old laptop attempting to recover a ton of pictures I took between 04-07 that I have either misplaced or deleted accidentally because I have a touch of the WTF. I'm 73% of the way through a Search and Recover4(tm) on an old desktop harddrive. I kinda need to find those pictures of him to send to her because I know that when you lose someone, a picture becomes a precious thing.

I've been reading this book of collected travel writings from old timey National Geographics, like back in the 20s and 30s when people went places on camel and steamer ships and it wasn't easy to get here or there. I've always been a fan of history, other peoples', yours, mine. Perhaps it's romanticizing something that, at the time, probably felt as unglamorous as the here and now. Heck, I even look back misty eyed on 2006, but I can't say I thought it was all that/bag of chips when I was living it.

Memory is funny, especially these days with digital. Half the time I'm like, did it ever really happen if I don't have a picture of it; other half I don't need a picture to remember anything, it's all imprinted in there deep.

Me being nostalgic me, I drove through my old town over Thanksgiving, just to check things out, see what's changed. And of course to take pictures, to remember. Even though every inch is pretty much etched in my head forever.

Main street in my old town:




My old house:



What I remember most:

Only Good Days Caught on Camera

Well. Here we are again. What can be said that hasn't already been said before? Here are two things:

1) I am going to Indiana on Thurs to visit my dad and fish and probably play poker and drink cheap beer and be a Hoosier. I am looking forward to another big dose of the Midwest which keeps me sane on most days. After that, I go straight to the state of Missouri for work. I am not complaining, just saying. I will be sure to twitpic the adventures. Cows. Corn. Coors Light.

2) It is July somehow. I'm not entirely sure how that happened because time both flies and also stands still here. I have been in this city for 2.4 years (yes, I'm counting) and I'm trying to remember July two years ago. Who can remember that far back? Luckily, I have this here blog and apparently last July, I was: working, walking the dogs, traveling, and being gay. Clearly nothing ever changes.

I wish I could report something exciting like: I got a pony! I am now Assistant Secretary of State! I am a blond! I like string! Alas/alack, this is the life I now lead. Until next time..