Reminiscing

The summer that I regained my senses and decided that I didn't want to be a lawyer, this was the theme song for me and my girls. Perhaps it is still one of my theme songs.

Probably because I grew up with Janet. And she's only about a month older than I. And she's still one of the hottest women out there. She reminds me that even though I am in my 40s, I can still be hot. Just like Madonna at 50 does. And Susan Sarandon in her 60s. When I hit my 60s, I want legs like Tina, a face like Leena, and the social consciousness of Susan Sarandon.

What we got from that song was that certain kind of swagger. (I had had before the song came out but then lost it along the way. Some bad relationships that made me question myself.) It's the walk of someone who knows that they own whatever place into which they are walking.

Sure the song is about some guy but it could be so many other things. Like that job you really want. Because somewhere along the way I learned how to put on the mask. How to act utterly confident even though my knees were knocking. (In days of old, the knee thing would be a figurative thing since they were in plain view due to my really short skirts.)

To me the song became about claiming the things that you wanted out of life. And not being afraid to say it -- even if in veiled references. Because let's get real. Sometimes if you state your true intentions, there are others who are more than ready to step in your way.

Oh, and to make things clear, I have never purposefully taken some other woman's man. In the early days of my college years, guys would ask me out and I would accept. I would then learn that these guys had girlfriends. I would drop them as quick as possible. I had this silly idea that if a guy left his girlfriend for me, he would do the same to me when the next new thing turned his head. I may look like a tramp at times but I have always had principles.

Might have something to do with having divorced parents and having huge trust issues as a result. * It might have something to do with having an uncle who's a dawg with a capital D. I don't think he's ever been faithful in any of his relationships. I know because for years I was his confidante. (My mother has always had huge issues with this. Imagine that? The queen of no boundaries calling someone out over the same thing.) He told me that I should avoid men like him at all costs. (He's also one of the other sick people in my life. At first they thought that he was rejecting his kidney transplant but now they're not sure. Because even folks on my mom's side of the family get sick. And he's 54. I hope they get it all straightened out because I'm not ready to let go of my Uncle Juju yet.)

All I know is that this is one of the songs that I play when I am starting to doubt myself. It makes me feel like I can do anything. As opposed to the song that shares its title with this post. That song just makes me feel weepy and shit. So I'm probably going to be playing this song for many weeks to come. So that I can find my way back. Crap. Now I have a whole other song going through my head. Great.

* Trust is a funny thing. When I write stuff here, I realize that there is a certain level of trust. Perhaps the semi-anonymity allows me to say the things that I otherwise wouldn't. Thus my anxiety in meeting folks from the blogging world. I am the queen of compartmentalization -- except here. I compartmentalize stuff to protect myself emotionally. So for those of you who have met me as a result of this blog, I'd like to tell you that it is a very hard thing for me. It's why none of my friends outside of the blogosphere or my family knows how to find this. Because some of them would use this all against me.

One less debt

First of all, I am sure that a few of you have been wondering about what happened to this post as it made a brief appearance in y'alls readers this weekend. Yes, I meant to post. Just not at that time. Remember how I am prone to write stuff days, sometimes weeks, in advance. I just kind of hit the wrong button. But on with it all...

A few weeks ago, I mentioned exotic dancers in a post. That same week Hilly wrote a whole post about them. In my comments to her, I said that perhaps I should share a story. So now I'm sharing.

My first exposure to dancers was through a college roommate. If there was a Chippendales review in town, then she was there. And after we became roommates, I'd tag along. That same year I dated a guy who belonged to a certain fraternity.

This guy announced after a month of dating that he had been watching me for a year. I know this because he was able to describe outfits that I hadn't worn in about a year. Over this time, he had decided what kind of house we would have when we were married -- and the names of our children. I was going to say, "And for some reason," but I know the reason. When I met him, I was barely hanging onto life. I was looking to others for my reason to stay around. And so we "learned" how to be cruel to one another off and on over a two year period. I say "learned" because I know that at least on my part it was not something new. I may have not exhibited it previously but I knew long before I met him how to be cruel to another person.

This is not the story though. I mentioned this guy because his fraternity had an annual Chippendales night as their big fundraiser. I still joke to this day that that was the only night each year that all of the guys in the fraternity got laid. Really. Right before I left the place, I headed to the bathroom. To see some chick who had one of the brothers pinned to the floor while her friends were trying to drag her off of him saying, "But she has a boyfriend." Yeah. Right.

A few years later I ended up in a summer school program in England. The first Friday night found me and a few classmates walking through the West End. We'd pass by clubs and they would say that ladies didn't need to pay the cover. Well, our group of six was half female. And the female half? We were adventurous. We eventually told the guys that if they paid for a round for us in a pub, we would go with with them to their strip club of choice.

I remember our shock upon entering the club. They had a one drink minimum. And that two pound pint? Was eight to ten pounds in the strip club world. And then the girls started dancing. And the first chick had totally not taken care of her bikini line. Ewwww. I would have had more drinks if they had not been more expensive. But I had had enough drinks to warrant a trip to the bathroom. And while I was in the stall I got to hear the chicks talking about the cheap bastards in the club. You should have seen the looks on their faces when I stepped out of the stall. After about twenty minutes of this, during which we got to witness the girls literally clean out a German tourist's wallet, my guy friends decided that they had been cheated. One headed back up to the door to complain. The door guy was not there but the roll of entrance tickets was. My friend ripped off a long strand of the tickets before returning to find us. When we finally made it back to the dorm, all six of us were wearing a "boa" of these tickets. I'm sure the other students with whom we met up in the lobby after they were returning from a night at the theater and four-star dining thought that we were extra classy. I know this much. Our story is probably much more interesting today than theirs.

The last time I set foot in a strip joint is the most memorable by far though. It was during the height of my partygirl days in San Francisco. Every Friday night after work, I'd head to North Beach. To this old Italian bar. I still think of it as one of the safest places in the City. I was seated at the bar next to an older guy. He looked at me and asked, "Sweetheart, why you look so sad?" Now at this point the bartender, who I knew well enough to call "Uncle," had told me to not talk to this guy. Something about his fear that one day I would end up dead in an alley. Whatever. (Jade on the other hand used to ask me why I always told these guys that I understand Italian. I told her because I've seen the movies. First to go? The accountant and the girlfriend. Just didn't want folks saying things in front of me about which I shouldn't know.) I told the guy, "Some guy just insulted me." And then I pointed out the guy to him. I caught the offensive guy's eye as I pointed and smiled really nicely. Because I can be a bitch like that. The nice guy sitting next to me said that no one should ever insult me.

As the evening progressed, we started talking about smoking -- specifically cigars. Turns out his friend owned a place with cigars. So we decided to head on over. Turns out the place was a strip joint. All that mattered to me was that they had Jack and cigars. The girls were a wee bit classier than my previous encounter but I didn't really notice that much.

How does one follow up cigars at a strip joint? Playing pool. By the time our pool game ended, I realized that I was quite intoxicated (OK. Maybe I realized it when I was puking in the ladies room at the strip club but the night was young. And my stomach was empty.) and explained that I should probably go home. Especially since I had not eaten much that day.

"You should have told me you were hungry. Next time I'll buy you dinner."

And then he called the bartender over to get a cab for me. And pressed some money in my hand. I tried to give some of it back because it was more than what I knew that the cab ride home would cost. He wasn't having any of it. After reaching home, I briefly thought to myself that if he had given me five dollars more, I could have broken even for the evening.

The next week I was out with a friend and her coworkers. One of her coworkers had grown up in San Francisco and knew all kinds of interesting types of people. She mentioned a former classmate who had been acquitted on a hit. I told her that her classmate had the same last name as the guy I had met the previous weekend. When I told her the guy's full name, she said that he was the uncle of her classmate. And that I had not been mistaken in pegging him as a made man.

Every now and then I wonder about the guy who insulted me. Because I haven't seen him since that night. Oh, but he probably just moved out of the area. Yep. That's it.

Ummm. And now maybe you understand just how wild and out of control I was back in those days. Because stuff like this? Kind of normal back then. But I had a lot of fun.

Summer of death

That's what I have told one of my cousins I have come to name this summer. My aunt died. Last week a family friend died. And through all of this my stepmother is dying. On Friday my cousin echoed my earlier sentiments. "I'm done."

Yeah, we lost a family friend last week. I found out by reading the paper. But this was someone whom I knew in name only. My dad's cousin? She went through this whole, "My wedding party is dying" thing. But I, the flower girl, am still here.

Saturday turned out to be the nexus of all that is bad in my life. Picked my mother up after her trip to see her mother; she had no regard for my time and schedule per usual. Even better was when she talked over me while at brunch. Then again, she did show great improvement by apologizing immediately -- a rarity. And I was reminded once more how I do not have a voice as far as my family is concerned unless they want something from me. I went to spend a couple of hours with my real parents after that. Screw all those other things I had had planned for my day. My head hurt and I needed to recharge.

It wasn't enough though. I got home and decided to check stuff on my computer. I read a blog post that pissed me off. I could go into it but I decided that it all really isn't worth my energy. Who are these people? Are they a part of my everyday life other than some words on a screen? So I opted to not comment. Nor did I write the flaming post that instantly came to mind. I reminded myself that the universe has a way of dealing with things as long as one has patience. And I have loads of patience.

No. More pressing was the need to lie down. For a couple of hours. Saturday night was supposed to be girls' night out.

Two of the women had already backed out on Friday. The restaurant owner called to confirm the reservation. He was thrilled when I told him that instead of six it would be four. And then I picked up the phone to confirm two of the four. (I didn't bother to call Fluffycat because I knew that she would definitely be there. Remembering this is why I actually showed up to the restaurant.) One of the two called while I was walking to the restaurant. She was at least an hour's drive away. She had forgotten. I had heard nothing from the other. And then I started freaking out. And getting fully pissed off. By the time I had reached the restaurant -- on time for the reservation -- I had heard from only Fluffycat. And so I gave up our table.

I ended up on the phone with one of the women who had bowed out on Friday at this point. That third party? She had apparently called this other friend. And I started screaming about how I was the one who had set everything up -- at this friend's behest and she did not have the decency to call me to say, "Hey. This is what's going on." Especially since this friend has had a past history of flaking. And even more so, because this friend was the one who had asked me to set the whole thing up in the first place. This would be while talking to my friend when I called two weeks after my aunt had died because I was still in disbelief that she had not tried to contact me. Saturday night's dinner was our first contact since then. Part of my tirade on the phone was that if she didn't show up, I knew that we were done as friends. But she did. So now I'm still questioning. Of course, I'm leaning heavily toward being done with her at this point. I know that we have a bond but what if it isn't what you need?

Food at the restaurant was fabulous. Fluffycat and my friend headed home. I headed to my bar. I got a cocktail and headed out to the outdoor area. While I played solitaire on my iPhone, I fought back the urge to cry. The guys I have met there previously quickly realized that they needed to give me space. I was angry at the world. But mostly I was angry at myself for making bad choices.

Random Guy showed up, as I knew that he would. I told him that I was pissed off with the world and he quickly moved out of range. Eventually he sat with me. And I thanked him for making me laugh. I don't laugh much these days.

There is the moment that continues to haunt me. Random Guy asked, "Why don't your friends ever go out with you?" And I explained about their marriages and their kids. And told him that one day, it would happen to him as well. But the thing that touched me? We're not dating but he said that he'd like to meet my friends. Heck. I've met his. Now there's a part of me that is feeling abandoned. Nothing new. I'm an old hat at this feeling,

By Sunday, I thought to myself, "I'm done with this blogging thing. It's time to go out and reclaim my life." But I had a life when I first started this blog. It's just that I need to find my way back the person I used to be. Not completely. The new version of that person has learned how to say "no" and to not feel overly guilty for saying that one word.

Somewhere along the way I have built a life that is filled with people who say, "I need.." and, "Could you possibly do..." This isn't so bad in itself. It's just that with many of these people, when I utter the same words, they don't seem to hear them.

I became my "partygirl" persona because I realized that people did not listen to me. The partygirl persona allowed me to be all in another person's face until I was heard. OK. Let's be honest. When I am in partygirl mode, I only have to say it once.

Now I'm trying to figure out how to fit that into my everyday life. People want me to research stuff and to then give advice. If it doesn't fit into their vision, then they ignore what I have said. Thing is that months down the road, I am generally proven right. I love research. I love looking at the "big picture."

Where am I now? I'm trying to come up with things that will help me to maintain my sanity during all of this. And to tell everyone who doesn't fit into the plan what they can kiss.

And so the summer of death marches on.

Hitting my groove

I am starting to think that my inner partygirl has returned once more. Perhaps because I have found some kind of balance between work and my personal life. Or maybe it's because it's one of the ways with which I deal with stress.

Over the holiday weekend, I started thinking to myself that since I was still in my birthday season, there was no reason why I should not head out. The first thought of this was on Friday. Then I spent the afternoon with the Zombie family. OK. Let's get real. If I had walked to their house as I had originally planned, there is no doubt that I would have gone out. But then I was a slug and took so long in getting motivated that I had no choice but to drive there. That left Saturday.

I got home from an afternoon with my aunt and put the beans on to cook for the cassoulet. By the time they were done, I realized that I had just enough time to get myself ready to show up at the pub just as my bartender would be starting his shift. No brainer there.

Since it was "early," I brought a book with me. Every thing seemed fine. Cocktail in hand, I headed to the small outdoors area to drink, smoke and read. And then the guys who were sitting upstairs spotted me. Apparently they had just scared off another woman. And they wanted to talk to women. How do I best describe the situation? It was like hanging out with Sheldon, Leonard and their friends. Really. And I was sober. The start of the conversation was a warning to not get my book wet and then a question about whether I knew the story about when Abe Lincoln got a book wet as a child. I shit you not. Then there was some opera singing. There was other stuff but I have mercifully blocked it all. I quickly escaped back into the pub so that I could strain my eyes in their poor lighting and swill down more cocktails.

By the time the chick who warned me that the last OKC guy and Sports Guy both had something off in their heads (Nothing like a little confirmation.), I was feeling more sociable. Thank goodness. Turns out the guys who had made me flee indoors knew her. And you know what? After a few cocktails, they weren't that bad. We discovered a common love of all things Dave Chappelle. They also could not understand how Kate found him so offensive.

Oops. I may not have mentioned that previously. In fact I know that I didn't because I let the stuff marinate at the time and took a bunch of stuff out of my post about her visit. What the hell. When Kate was visiting back in April, she informed me that she found Dave highly offensive after I popped in one my fave DVDs. OK. So maybe she didn't actually make this proclamation until she heard him tell a bit about a guy masturbating on a bus. She just didn't get how it could be funny. I told her that if she actually rode public transportation, she would understand because she would realize that that kind of thing does happen on public transportation. (Hmmm. Makes me think about why I will not take the 22 Fillmore -- or the Hoochie Express as I came to call it after that one fateful ride.) Then there was something about how he and Eddie Murphy were merely retreads of Richard Pryor. The conclusion? Why couldn't they be more like Bill Cosby? Yeah. Ummm. It was on at that point. But she's been my friend for over 20 years so we're still speaking.

Enough about that already. The evening continued and Random Boy made an appearance. (By the way, he created the name, not I. "I'm just some random guy you occasionally run into at the bar.") Now I'm feeling lazy and don't want to check the archives but here are the important things about him. He'll be 25 later this year. He likes to hunt, fish, watch NASCAR, and drink bourbon. I didn't think they made those types in Berkeley. He's also just as sarcastic as I am. And on Saturday, he felt the need to explain some of his comments. As in he was joking when he agreed previously that I was fat. But I knew that he was joking. And then there was the discussion about how there is a small part of my brain that knows that I'm not fat. Unfortunately it's not the part of my brain that processes the image it sees in the mirror.

I remembered those words when I got home from work on Monday night. I had already eaten my daily calorie allotment at lunch since I had made one of those rare trips to a fast food restaurant. But then I thought that it would be OK if I ate more so I had a small helping of the cassoulet. It's all about baby steps. Lots of other people have told me that I look OK but they are all trying to lose weight so a part of me doesn't really trust them. But when Random Boy and Zombie Mom tell me that I look OK the way I am, I believe them. Go figure.

Tonight the partygirl tradition will continue. I'm off for the rest of the week after today. And my bartender works on Wednesday nights. Guess where I'll be tonight?

When I grow up *

For days I have thought of posting. I just didn't have the energy.

Saturday I headed out to dinner with Flufficat, Buzzgirl, Jade, Emerald and another friend. Let's call this other friend LA Teacher for now. After dinner, LA Teacher and Flufficat joined me at my favorite bar. Well, they joined each other. I was bad and kind of did my own thing. I had meant to take photos throughout the evening but forgot to. Well, I thought I had but apparently I took photos of boys at the bar. And even posed for one with them. Imagine that. Have I ever mentioned that my bartender tends to be a little heavy handed?

Sunday I managed to crawl out of bed to head to the Zombie household for a barbecue. And that's where I received the pictured item. Needless to say, I wore it for the rest of the day.

When I started this blog years ago, I never thought that as a result I would end up with some wonderful friends along the way. And I guess that that's why I have not been able to walk away from blogging completely.

* I wasn't sure what to call this post but on my way home, I was listening to one of my favorite songs in the car. That decided it for me. Or maybe I was thinking of this song.

Blowing through the jasmine in my mind

My old place in San Francisco had jasmine all around the front door. (The tree limbs are the magnolia tree.) Now it only exists in my mind. With a bunch of other stuff.

I had a long chat with Zombie Mom after yesterday's post. I said, "Now you understand why I feel fat now." She said that I was just too skinny back in the day and that I look healthy now. Many family members have said the same thing. For years they had been telling me that I needed to gain weight. OK. So maybe my doctor was saying the same thing as well when I was in high school. I'm now at the weight he thought that I should be. (I just checked my BMI on a NIH site. Apparently I am now at the low end of the range for normal. My weight up until about five years ago was always in the underweight range. I knew this though.) So I guess Zombie Mom and I are struggling with opposite body image issues, but in some ways they're similar. We are both now at weights that others consider to be "healthy" but when you've spent most of your life outside of that range, it's hard to see what everyone else does.

I also talked to Zombie Mom tonight. One thing stuck in my mind from that conversation -- storytelling. When we were in college, Emerald used to tell me that I was a wonderful storyteller. I think it started with a chair. In the photo featuring the red mini and black boots, there is a chair to the left of me. That chair was a rocking chair. And for many years, my mother would sit in that chair, I would climb onto her lap, and she would read fairytales to me. This started long before I myself could read. By the time that I could, I had memorized many of the stories. One night at a college party, I entertained people with the retelling of some of these fairytales. I simply could not believe that they had never read Hans Christian Andersen -- my absolute favorite. I also took a class in college in African literature. The professor was really into the oral tradition in the tribes of Africa. It's the same in the African American community. Over the years, I have sat and listened while my elders -- my great grandfather (whose parents were born into slavery), my great aunts and uncles, my grandmother, whoever -- told their stories. And they all got stored away in my memory. Many of those people have now passed but their stories haven't. Whenever I am with family, I share their stories. Somewhere along the way I became the keeper of my family's history. I have also been doing research since about age 13 to see what is true. Perhaps one day I will write it all down. I worry. I have no children of my own. Who will keep the stories when I am gone? (And yes, perhaps this could have been a post on its own but I decided to throw this into the general hodgepodge of this post.)

I went into Tuesday with mixed feelings. A lot of folks, including some relatives, forgot my birthday on Monday. I also work with people who are nice but don't do anything for birthdays. It was the most anti-climatic birthday I have ever had. If it had been a "big" one, I probably would have been depressed. Oh yeah. I'm already kind of depressed so I'm not sure how that would have worked out.

My dad shared too much information with my mom on Monday when she called him. Now she's screaming stuff like, "I want my money back." This would be the money that she contributed to their joint finances when they were married. Have I mentioned that they have been divorced for over 30 years? I shared with my father the joys of caller ID. "When I don't feel like talking to her, I just don't answer the phone." Remember? She knows nothing about boundaries. That means that everyone else in her life must establish them. He also said that she doesn't really listen to people. I pointed out that those were my exact words to her last summer -- right before I called her a "fucking bitch." Because sometimes she really can be one. We care about her but she could really benefit from some therapy. There's only so much the rest of us can do.

Saturday night I'm heading out with the girls. I hope this will make up for what has been a rather blah birthday season thus far. OK. I did get that fabulous Kate Spade bag last week but that's not enough. One of my friends backed out of the dinner thing because I wouldn't allow her to bring her boyfriend (?) along. I don't know what the guy is at this point except that he is her baby's daddy. And I can say that because (1) they are not married, and (2) when she found out she was pregnant, he disappeared from the scene. He just returned late last year because now he wants to be a father. The kid will be three later this summer. Oh, and my first time meeting him? Kind of came off as a pompous ass. So I figured that I would be selfish. It's my party as the saying goes, after all. Having a guy around on a girls' night? Totally messes with the dynamics. Especially if it's some guy you don't even like. So yeah. My friend apparently now only goes out when he can join her. I told my therapist on Tuesday it just seemed weird to me. "I don't want to be in a relationship if it means that I can't have an identity that is separate from the other person. It just doesn't seem healthy."


For years my grandmother has been sending me a check for my birthday as well as Christmas. For years I have not been cashing those checks. I mean, she lives on Social Security. Instead I have been shredding them. My mother finally shared this with my grandmother after this past Christmas. Tuesday morning I called my grandma to thank her for the card that she had sent. (I have told my mother that I have never once doubted in my life that my grandmother loves me.) She told me that I was to cash the check and to treat myself to something this time -- perhaps gas in my car. I laughed and told her that her check would not fill the tank of my car but it would buy me dinner. As the day wore on, I remembered how Monday's dinner was so uneventful. That made me think of the shrimp at Gregoire. So I got home and ordered two entrees -- the shrimp and the curried lamb chops -- as well as my usual potato puffs. Now I have dinner for two nights. When I went in to pick up my order, the cook said, "Hi." And that got me thinking. Now that folks can recognize me on the street, perhaps I should lay off saying stuff about guys who I may meet in everyday life who I find attractive.

OK. Brain empty. Now I'm set to watch some TV and to read some more Dexter. Although tomorrow night is such the better TV night. Because hello. Season finale of "Farmer Wants a Wife." Hmmmm. I need to check when "I Love Money" starts so that I can be sure to add it to my DVR schedule. Oh, but tonight is a new episode of "Flipping Out." Cool. A reality show about featuring a person who has issues with boundaries. But I'm not related to him.

The trinity

There is a trinity for me that is necessary for OK mental health -- proper nutrition, adequate sleep, and some form of activity. By activity, I mean taking a walk, not necessarily going to the gym. With the trinity in place, I am much better at dealing with stressors in my life. Monday morning I was missing at least two of the trinity and I had had some stress hit on Sunday. Needless to say, I was not dealing well on Monday.

I got to work and realized that I just wanted to go back home, crawl into bed, and cry. Then I got up from my desk to get some caffeine so that I could get through the day. It seemed quite necessary since I was operating on three to four hours of sleep. Walking to the kitchen, I felt myself getting dizzy and for a brief moment thought that I was going to pass out. It was at that point that I realized that I was completely fried mentally and physically. All I could think was, "I don't want to talk to anyone. At all." It was one of those let-the-blue-envelop-you-like-a-comforter moments.

Lunch time hit and I toyed with the idea of skipping lunch -- because I sometimes do that. OK. Let's be honest. Most days I function on one meal a day -- lunch or dinner. It's rare that both happen. The days that I have both are the ones when I split my food from lunch over two meals mostly. But hey. My waist is getting smaller. I know that I can't function if two elements of the trinity are missing. So even though I felt nauseous, I forced myself to eat lunch. And when I got home, I had a dinner that was not composed of my lunch leftovers.

During the whole day, I toyed with post ideas even though I knew that I had written one on Sunday night that kind of summed up the stresses of Sunday. I wasn't really happy with all the various posts that I had written by Monday evening so I decided to combine them. And now we have this post.

I knew that Sunday was going to be stressful. Visits to my father's house almost always are. But for over a month, my dad's older sister had been telling me, "You know that you really need to do something special for your dad for Father's Day because he's under a lot of stress right now." And it wasn't enough that I was going up on Sunday morning. No, I needed to go up Saturday night and spend the night. I explained to her that I had an eye appointment Saturday afternoon -- and yes, they did dilate my eyes -- so I didn't think that driving on Saturday would be that advisable. She stopped just short of saying that I should change my appointment. Now mind you, this is the same woman who told me once my health benefits kicked in at my current job that I shouldn't go making appointments immediately even though some of them were overdue.

In the days leading up to Sunday, my father had shared with me how there might be other folks around besides him and my stepmother. Then he told me to not worry about feeding them because they had plenty of other food for those folks to eat. Because my stepmother's family and her friends like to drop by the house on holidays, as they always have, and expect to be fed. I guess I wouldn't mind the moochers much if I actually liked the people. But I don't. Over the past twenty-plus years they have barely hidden their disdain of me in the their looks, their tone of voice. Hell. A few years ago my stepmother gave me a huge lecture on how she didn't like how I greeted her mother. Something about how it is not sufficient to say "hi" and to wave from across a crowded room. (If you knew the old biddy -- ummm, my stepmother's mother -- you would think that I was doing a great job. My dad even asked the woman, "Could you shut the fuck up?" a few years ago.)

So I showed up and started cooking. Then the people started showing up. I was cooking enough for four. By the time, I was ready to serve the food there were five people present including myself. Then right as everyone was ready to start eating, a sixth person dropped by. And my stepmother's mother looked at me and said, "Well, you know if you just cut some stuff in half..." That was the point when some unkind words almost crossed my lips. I know that I rolled my eyes so hard that no one could have missed the expression on my face.

I probably could have let it roll off but then I got home and received a call from that boy. Oh, and by the way, I did go out with him again on Friday. So I figured that it wouldn't hurt to stop in the cafe around the corner from me. Apparently he hangs out there a great deal to avoid having to deal with his roommates at home. And then he informed me that he thought that we should be friends because he has decided to date someone else. Oh, and could I help him in looking for a new apartment since I was much more familiar with the area than he is? Yeah, I knew I was mentally toast at that point. That's why I decided to ignore his text message on Monday.

And so briefly for a while yesterday I toyed with simply writing the following as a post...

Memo to Self
Stop being such a fucking doormat. Because at the end of the day you just end up feeling like a worthless human being.

There was also a post about feeling like I'd been run over by a truck.

I think I'm going to spend a lot of time over the next week thinking about this whole dating and family stuff. Right now I just feel like I'm done with it all. Doesn't mean that I'm not not hitting the Kate Spade semi-annual sale though.

Summer in the PRB continues

So y'all have to know that at times I get almost obsessed with OKCupid. Over the last month or so, I have learned about this really cool feature they have -- QuickMatch. You put in some minimal criteria -- gender, dating status, location -- and then they randomly show you photos and profiles of folks who meet your criteria. You have to rate them on looks and personality based solely on this information. Oh, and on a scale of 1 to 5. If you give someone a 4 or 5, then they are told that someone has given them high ratings.

This is how I found myself on OKCupid yesterday. I was told that someone had given me a high rating in QuickMatch. If you choose to respond, they show you a series of folks. The person who gave you high marks will be randomly mixed into the group.

And that's how I came upon the guy whose photo I sent to a few of you yesterday. Apparently he gave me high marks, as I did him. As a result, he ended up sending me an email yesterday.

When I got home from work, he was online on OKC. (For those of you not in the know, OKC has it's own chat interface.) So I got an IM from him. And we chatted. We were supposed to try to meet next weekend. But he let it slip that he was at a cafe in my neighborhood. In fact it was about two blocks away. So I was supposed to email him about meeting next weekend or perhaps later in the evening. But idiot me closed the chat window without writing down his email address. Well, there was only one thing to do. I hightailed it on over to the cafe. You should have seen the look on his face when I showed up at his table.

Shortly after that we left the cafe and ended up at my bar. I had already warned him that it was my bar. When he went to the bar to get a second round from my bartender, my bartender made a point of telling him how cool he thought I am. The guy asked me if he needed to take my bartender into the street. The more and more that I think about it, I think that my bartender probably came off as a mixture of protective brother and slightly jealous guy. Well, at least that's what I get from the new guy's telling of the conversation they had. Then again, there has apparently been some bad blood between the two in the past. Something about my bartender having 'tude. Well, hell. He has 'tude most Friday and Saturday nights. Because idiots like to show up on those nights.

Back to the guy. There's a possibility that I'll go out with guy again. I say possibility because of the email I received. Seems I'm kind of cursed. Guys are frequently saying things to me like, "You deserve someone better than me." For some reason I have a way of coming off as this fragile little pure as the driven snow type. Y'all can stop laughing now. I know it's funny but it's not that funny.

I also haven't given up on Random Boy. Oh, and the first OKC Boy called last night. He wants to go out to a party his company is having tonight. (This was after I told him that I was not driving over to see him last night. And yeah, this would be when he called right after I got home from being out with the other guy.) I'll see.

Yep. I love the warmer months of the year.

Summer in the PRB*

Yes, I know how to read a calendar. Yes, I know it technically is not summer yet. But there are signs of it here in the PRB.

It started with the excess amounts of furniture along the curb. Every year the city sends out notices about how it's illegal to leave your furniture, and other stuff, on the curb. Every year in May, large amounts of furniture hits the curb. Usually it disappears within 24 hours or so. The sofa pictured? It's been there at least a week.

The next sign was that I no longer do the torturous search for parking. In fact, now there is often an abundance of "good" parking spaces. I know that come August I will hate the return of the students for this very reason.

Also it's been kind of warm around as of late. The kind of warmth that allows one to walk around with sleeveless stuff in the evenings. It's the kind of weather that reminds me of all those evenings last summer that my neighbors and I spent on the front stoop drinking wine and talking about whatever. (Well, with most of the women I talked about body image. And we discovered over the summer that many of us have had some serious issues with food.) If you are not familiar with the Bay Area, then let me just say that we cherish those kind of days. Until we return home to our apartments and houses that are not air-conditioned. Then we pray for fog.


And speaking of sleeveless evenings, Saturday night was the great dinner with Zombie Mom and Fluffycat -- in celebration of Fluffycat's birthday. After dinner, I dropped Zombie Mom at the taxi stand downtown. And of course at that point I was only a couple of blocks from my favorite spot. And the night was young.

The band for the evening was playing jazz. I ordered my usual from my bartender and headed for the small courtyard. Because one can smoke and drink there. I instantly ran into Random Boy (Emphasis on the "boy." We won't even get into the age of this one. Although I did threaten to trade him in for a younger model.) who was kind enough to pay for my drinks the evening of Zombie Mom's birthday celebration.

His first question? "Where are the leather pants?" I explained that the leather pants make limited appearances because they are dangerous. He then remembered some guy getting choked that same night. I explained why the guy got choked. Proof that the leather pants are indeed a dangerous thing. And Random Boy just might be around in the weeks to come.

And thus another sign of summer. The fact that there are boys around who are worthy of nicknames. If this past Saturday is any indicator, we're in store for a pretty wild summer.

On a completely different topic, I also came to another realization this morning. There seems to be some correlation with going out on the weekend and starting off Monday with feeling that I'm going to have a skinny week. (And back to Random Boy. You know you have no super ego when you start telling some guy that you think you're fat even though everything rational is telling you that it isn't true. His response? "Yeah, you're going to need to drop some pounds if you want to hang out with me." And when he said that, I was actually able to take it as a joke. Unlike my mother's comments.) But let's be real about the skinny week feeling. When I go out and party, I tend to eat less. Sure there is a lot of consumption of empty calories but still at the end of it all, I drop some pounds. And there was no puking involved in my weekend. Just to make sure y'all understand. So yeah, I will be getting up off my lazy ass a lot more and heading out. Like I used to.

And I'll keep you posted on Random Boy. It's been some time since I've hung out with a guy who's main interests are hunting, fishing, Nascar, and bourbon.

*PRB is the People's Republic of Berkeley.

The Empress does the burbs

Anyone who knows me well knows my feelings about suburbia. So what would make me head into the burbs on a weekend? One word. Firefighters.

Firefighters will make me do all kinds of thing. I did not demonstrate my limits though. If they had asked? Oh hell yeah.

There is a firefighter who reads to Jade's kids each year. And each year he throws a party for his birthday. A house party with a DJ. Just let that marinate a bit. And he invites his coworkers. Basically it is a houseful of hot men with some good music and hell of a lot of alcohol.

Now since Jade is married, she feels it is her duty to find me a man when we go out to occasions like this. We arrived at the party close to 10 and Jade said that we would need to leave around midnight. What the hell? Fortunately the boy whom Jade had picked out lived near the place where I had left my car. Yeah, I talked to him. He had escaped to the living room because the music was a little too loud for him. So we played pool. (Yes, there was a pool table in the living room.) Jade left and the firefighter boy gave me a ride to my car. No phone number exchange or anything though.

So I stopped at my fave bar on my way home. My bartender said that he could make me one drink since they had just had last call. I told him that I didn't need a drink. I really didn't. I just stopped in to say hi. And to pee. There was no way possible I was going to make it all the way home.

And today? My head is killing me. I need to rehydrate. But for the first time in weeks, I had fun over the weekend. Now I'm going to look at the random photos I took last night.

Huh?

Throughout the day today, I thought about writing this post. And as I thought about my day, I realized that some folks would think to themselves, "She's depressed? Really? Why ever?" And what made the day fantastic? The two events I wrote in on my planner for the day.

The first was lunch. I recently had to book a conference room at a nearby hotel for work. My boss pointed out that I should have insisted on a tour of the facilities so that I could get a free lunch. So I emailed the salesperson and lo and behold she said, "Sure. Just tell me the day. And we can have lunch at the restaurant." So I went for the tour. And met the the salesperson as well as the catering manager and the sales manager. In fact the sales manager joined us for lunch. Now get this. The restaurant's cuisine is "Japanese Mediterranean." I'll wait while you wrap your brains around that one. I went for the Japanese end of the spectrum and had some really great sushi and sashimi. The sales manager had his usual of a pork chop in a vermouth sauce. Since he joined us late, I was full by the time his food showed up. Otherwise I would have tasted it. But I know I'll be back. And on those trips I'll take photos of the food. Because the presentation was just as much a part of the experience as the taste of it all. (And yes, this was probably the most food that I have had in a single meal in over a week.) Oh, and because I told them that we have folks coming in from out of town periodically, we're going to be set up for the corporate rate on rooms.

At one point during the lunch conversation, I mentioned trying to find a hotel in the Union Square area during BlogHer. The salesperson gave me a list of recommendations. And said that she would check with her friend who is at a more boutique type place in the area to see if her friend can give me a rate. Have I mentioned lately how much I love my job?

After work, I went to see about my old job. Remember that short film my students were working on last school year? Well, it's complete and tonight there was a screening. And I was really excited that this time I had a drive-on pass. And my kids' movie? Totally rocks. If you're in the area and decide to drop in, not only will you get a meal but you will then have to watch their movie. Because I have it on DVD. The kids asked me and Queenie to come back for their sixth grade promotion next month. I'll need to check on the date. I went back for my first students' eighth grade promotion. I know that I'll go back for this one as well. Oh crap! My first students will be graduating from high school next year. I guess I'd better start penciling that in. Because yeah, I still occasionally get emails from former students.

And what else does one do when one is feeling blue? Why give dating another try, of course. I think I may have timed it right too. Because this time around most of my stalkers on OKCupid are in the 25-45 age range. And y'all know how much I love that range. With that said, here are my latest quiz results.

Your Score: JackAntelope

You scored 48Agression, 60 Speed, 39 Intelligence and 50 Strength!

You are fast... in bed.

Link: The What animal hybrid are you? Test written by eagleshark on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test View My Profile(eagleshark)

Should I be concerned?

Still got it

I had kind of forgotten how much fun going out can be. Sure I spent most of Sunday in a prone position in front of the TV but I (1) caught up on my huge backlog of viewing from the DVR, and (2) actually felt rested when I showed up at work on this morning. I haven't felt rested on a Monday in some time. And I I actually had the energy to do most of that cleaning when I got home -- that cleaning I was supposed to do on Sunday.

But back to the fun of Saturday. There were wonderful cocktails and great conversation. And then there was dancing. Zombie Mom kept on making statements about "stealing a man" on the dance floor. I felt obliged to comply. Because part of my personal soundtrack is Salt 'n' Pepa. Yeah, I know. Kind of mean but kind of fun too.

On my way home, I also felt obliged to stop at my fave bar. I mean there was one parking space in the block -- right in front of the front door. I took it as a sign. (And part of the hell of Sunday was walking back to get my car. Because the ideal "fave bar" is close enough to home that one does not need to drive there.) Zombie Mom was not surprised when I told her yesterday. How can a gal hate a place in which the men buy you drinks and tell you how fabulous you look?

Shortly after arriving, some really drunk, kind of crazy guy started talking to me. I didn't mind because he was kind of entertaining and his friends were buying the drinks. He walked away for a bit and one of his friends started talking to me. Then the friend went to talk to his buddy. Next thing I know the first guy had grabbed the second guy by the throat and had slammed him up against the wall. Apparently the first guy didn't like his friend talking to me. Said something about his friend was trying to mess with his game.

Ahhh. Nothing like some OPH and leather pants... It's been a few years since I have worn the combination and as a result, I had forgotten their power.

Oh, and damn it to hell. I found this through a post that Fluffycat was kind enough to share in her reader.


Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating

What do I have to say about my results? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

What's good?

So I've told you about OKCupid man. No, I still haven't set up a date with him. Really hard for the month of January. I spend at least one weekend preparing my dad's 1099s -- if he has followed my instructions from the previous years and has everything on hand. If not, then it's two weekends. And then I promised a friend back in December that I would go to tea with her this month. Yep. January is a short month. A prosperous month but short none the same. Add onto this that my stepmother gave me a gift certificate for a pedicure. That means that I can't just go to Sack of Tomatoes for a day to work for dad. Noooo. I am going to have to work one day and chill with the stepmother another day. Add onto this, fitting the men in. What men, you ask?

Well, first there's OKCupid Boy #1 (for now known as OKCB1). I realized that I have failed to mention him previously. We've met and hung out. I've thought of him as a friend. Just a friend. And then he made it clear that he didn't think of me in those terms about a week ago. And I wasn't completely repulsed. But that's when in my sieve of a mind, I thought that he was in his 30s. I re-checked his profile and discovered that he is 25. *gasp*

Then there's OKCB2. I've chatted with him for months as well. And he keeps stressing how we should hang out. (Now I must stress that my profile and quiz results make me come off as a "nice girl." And I really am at heart.) And this guy's problem? His age. He'll be 21 this coming week.

So now we're up to three guys. Which should be more than enough but no, then I went and pulled another one. I was shopping at my fave grocery store. There I was chillin' in line when one of my former students walked up. (Get your minds out of the gutter. This is not about the student. I'm not one of those sicko freaks.) He was shopping with his dad. I made through the line first and so I went to say hello to his dad. End of it all, dad ended up asking me out. In other situation, I probably would have said yes but there's something different about my kids' parents. My first year teaching, a mom -- who was sick at the time -- wanted to set me up with her ex. Even though I am no longer teaching in the district, I still feel as if it's all wrong. I understand that he's lonely so I suggested group activities. Because I just didn't have the heart to say that I wouldn't date him.

And with that I need to get ready to head up to Sack of Tomatoes. Hopefully I get everything done there this weekend so I can have the remaining weekends this month free to play.

Finally something

Things have been a bit slow since Christmas. I get up, I go to work, and then I come home. But then something interesting happened.

Back in the summer, I signed up with OKCupid thanks to Fluffycat. One of the fun features is that you can see who has been checking out your profile. Well, this one guy kept checking out my profile daily. But he never tried to contact me. I eventually sent him a message asking what was up with his actions. And so we started sending messages to each other. Then I started working and I was rarely on OKCupid. So last night I read his latest message finally. He had sent me his phone numbers and his email address. So of course, I did some research based on the email address.

This guy is much older than my usual victims -- a little more than ten years older than I am. But here's the thing. He's a former actor who apparently used to party a lot back in the day. And he's related to a number of famous actors.

I'll admit it. I'm a bit of a celebrity whore. And so I think I should go on at least one date. Because at the very least, there could be some really interesting stories from that one meeting -- and I'd be sure to share them with y'all.

I've heard from some of you already on this topic but you're free to chime in once more.

In preparation

Yep. Another topic I have been shying away from. But after reading Heather B.'s post, I knew I had to say it.

Over the last seven years, it seems like there has been this endless cycle of illness and death in my family. Yes, I know that this is what happens as we age. But some of these folks weren't that old. It got to the point in 2002 when I thought that I didn't have any tears left in me. But I was wrong.

Of course, watching my grandmother slowly deteriorate over ten years helped to prepare me for this past year. It also taught me a lot about the differences between myself and my parents. Me? If I hear that someone has a serious illness, then I start to prepare myself for the worst. In my mind, I feel like if I don't think about the worst case scenario and then it happens, the feeling will be like having the rug pulled out from under my feet. In an emotional sense. It comes from remembering the dark times of my teens and 20s and not wanting to ever go back to that place again. Because that's what it felt like back then -- the whole rug thing. My dad always believes that there is something that can be done. Even when all signs say otherwise. My mother is somewhere between us on the spectrum.

January will mark the one year since my stepmother was diagnosed with cancer. I had been telling my father since this summer that he needed to hire someone to be with her in the daytime. He did not do this until this past month. This would be after he went of town for a long weekend. One of her friend's stayed with her. The friend came to the same conclusion after that weekend. Because my stepmother fell four times because she can't see steps and all. And she washed clothes ten times because she had forgotten that she had washed them already.

I went to see them the Saturday after Thanksgiving. My stepmother answered the door and thought that I was her sister. Anyone who has ever seen her sister knows that about the only thing we have in common is our height. Well, and maybe our attitude. I knew from previous visits that my stepmother could not hear well; she's lost 40% of her hearing over the last few months. But this trip I could see the evidence of how much worse her vision had become since the summer as well as her memory issues.

According to her last tests, the two remaining tumors in her brain have shrunk some more. (There were originally five. The doctors have told us that these two will never go away completely though because they were so large.) Today she goes in for more chemo. And then there's one more treatment in this round. But there will probably be more chemo. Because the cancer seems to be growing in her liver. I'm not sure about the status of her lung. Yes, it's in all three places.

And so I have been preparing myself for her death as of late. There was a time in the spring when I was more hopeful. But not now. Because my stepmother is not a fighter in the same way that my aunt is. And things just aren't looking good. And I have to be prepared because my father isn't going to be. Maybe a little part of him is but he keeps that part hidden.

Because I remember my grandmother's funeral. The second time in my life that I can really remember my father crying. (The first was when he discussed the whole divorce thing with me when I was about 12 or so. I often forget that because the conversation was supposed to be about how I was feeling and instead became about all the pain he was in.) And then a year later I saw his tears again at his youngest brother's funeral. And I remember how he wouldn't really talk to anyone about how he was feeling until I asked the right questions.

I know that this is part of the reason why I am no longer in the classroom now. Teaching took a lot out of me emotionally. And with all the stuff that has been going on with my family, I haven't had much extra. Because that's always been my role in the family -- the one who can listen. Even though when some of them are pissed off with me, they will say that I'm not that good a listener. But when they're in pain? They tell me the stuff that they won't say to other people. It's also why I don't really like being around family on holidays. Because while they smile and make nice to each other, I know what they really think about one another. Some days it's hard being the keeper of secrets. And so sometimes I go to therapy just so that I can let the secrets out. Before they eat away at me too much. And so now I'm also in preparation for Christmas with the family.

The Police have invaded my life

Funny how it takes someone else's post to remind you of a topic upon which you had planned to write. Happened to me Monday night.

I have always loved this song. Thankfully now there is a video. I really love the crazy chola hair in the second segment -- the one after the fashion show.



I like to think that this song is for me and all the other single women out there.

"A girl like me don't stay single for long
Cuz everytime a boyfriend and I break up
My world is crushed and I'm all alone
The love bug crawls right back up and bites me and I'm back."

Yep, we just keep coming back.

Oh, and speaking of things coming back, Retail Boy sent me a text message last week.

"U Still annoyed with me? wanna get 2-gthr soon. dinner n drinks on me. :)"

I kid you not. This was written by a 36-year-old. And no, I did not answer. There were way too many places to begin. But I won't even get into the fact that he writes a text message like he's a teenager.

No, I'm not still annoyed. I've just moved on. And my current life does not include his whiny-ass bitch self. In past days, I would have said OK and then have milked him for the free meal. The current me thinks differently. There is no meal worth more than the time I would lose putting up with his whining at this point. (See? I have grown.) In fact the thought of sharing a meal with Retail Boy almost makes me vomit in my mouth. He is not the "love bug" for which I am waiting. But I'm patient. The right one will come around eventually.

I had forgotten about the message until Friday night. Because during my lovely scenic drive, I passed his place of employment. Such a shame that I also noticed a fascinating looking restaurant located next door. So now I'm trying to figure out how to check out the restaurant yet still avoid him. *sigh* Of course, if Cookiecrumb really needed stuff from that store at discount, I'd be willing to bite the bullet. But only then.

And finally, something made me check out the band line-up at my former fave bar here. It seems that one of my all-time fave bands played last weekend. I am bummed that I missed the show. But upcoming shows? Seems that Drummer Boy's band will be showing up later this month. Part of me wants to show just so that I can sever all ties completely. But then there's the part of me that's afraid of what I will say/do after a few cocktails. Even with this fear, I'm still leaning toward showing up. At least so I can tell him off -- while giving props to the rest of the band. Because I still love their music.

And for those of you who might care -- a cat update. The cute little fur mice? Tailless. Actually, the black one is not only tailless but also gutted. There's this piece of fur on my carpet that used to be a toy mouse. The white one is also tailless and looks like it suffers from mange. That's because there are patches of fur all across the carpet that I haven't vacuumed up yet. And before you yell at me, I only have enough energy to eat, watch TV, and read blogs besides working these days. Cleaning has once more been relegated to weekends. Unless I do it before eating. But last night I was beyond starving when I got home. That's the only way that I can explain taking a wrong turn after leaving Bed Bath & Beyond. I was just following my original path even though my path should have changed after my shopping trip. Yep. Brain death due to low sugar levels.

And if I have snacks handy, I go for protein-rich snacks like nuts instead of carbs. Carbs are temporary energy. And evil to folks who have a family history of diabetes. Even though my last blood test said that I was well on my way to hypoglycemia instead of diabetes. But carbs are the enemy for folks who are hypoglycemic as well. (Now that I think about it, my mother has often suggested that I am bipolar because of sudden mood swings. Perhaps instead is is due to sudden changes in my blood sugar levels. Because when my blood sugar is low, I am one cranky ass bitch.) Then again, a friend told me that most adult-onset diabetics are usually borderline hypoglycemic before they become diabetic. So I try to keep an eye out on things. Just like the glaucoma.

I hope to find balance once more. That point at which I can work and be productive when I get home. Hopefully without the insomnia. Because in the past that's where I've usually found my energy. Nope. In bed by midnight. After that, there's no telling what could happen.

And if I'm up too long, I use music to re-ground myself. Here's the lyrics to one of my favorite songs in the wee hours of the night...

"See I picks my friends like I pick my fruit
& Ganny told me that when I was only a youth
I don't go 'round trying to be what I'm not
I don't waste my time trying ta get what you got
I work at pleasin' me cause I can't please you
and that's why I do what I do
My soul flies free like a willow tree
doo wee doo wee do wee

And if you don't want to be down with me
You don't want to pick from my appletree
And if you don't want to be down with me
Then you don't want to pick from my appletree
And if you don't want to be down with me
Then you don't want to pick from my appletree
And if you don't want to be down with me
You just don't want to be down."

Because Erykah Badu can almost always get you in the right frame of mind. Just like Jill Scott can.

Weekend Fun

Let's start off with the quiz stuff. Fluffycat had previously mentioned the fun of OK Cupid. Not only is it free but there are loads of quizzes there.

You are a Social Liberal (80% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (10% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist (10e/80s) Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

The funny thing is that I had this boyfriend in college who used to call me the total Capitalist. My views haven't changed much since then. And the boyfriend? Jade never forgave me for dumping him. She called him "The Greek God." Probably because he had these classic features. But his family was really Russian Jew. If I had met him a year or two later, I probably would not have dumped him, but at the time he was 18 and I was 20.

For quite some time, I thought that I had made one of the biggest mistakes in my life. OK. I'll admit that I still occasionally think that. Because he was a gorgeous, intelligent, caring man who thought the world of me. And I just couldn't appreciate it. I should have met him post-therapy. Regardless, I still have the memory of him to let me know what I really deserve in the land of dating.

We stayed friends and his junior year abroad, he met the real love of his life. (Well, that's what I thought the last time I saw them.) When I finally met her, she knew who I was. And I actually liked her. That was when I decided that if I actually liked an ex as a friend that I would keep him in my life. As Patsy would say, she's got him. But I still have the sweater that was originally his dad's that he gave to me as a birthday gift.

And funny thing that I mentioned Greek before. Because Saturday I headed over to the Greek Festival in San Francisco with Buzzgirl.

There was great food...


Pilaf, pastito, and spanakopita. Somehow the Kalamata olives didn't make it into the photo.

And music and dancing.


It's hard to tell but the guy is holding the furniture in his mouth. I want to know about his dental plan.


My first attempt at posting video.

In the food category, there was also the moussaka that Buzzgirl had. I wouldn't order it because after the last week, I was in a near overdose. And then there was dessert. I had consumed all of the galaktoboureko before I realized that I had not taken a single photo of it. I bonded with some of the members of the parish (Yes, they were male.) over cigarettes prior to dessert. When I mentioned that galaktoboureko was one of my favorites, the first guy who I met approved of my selection. Obviously I need to make it again so that y'all can see the wonder of that particular dessert. Oh, and they were such nice folks that I think I might have to go back for their crab feed in January.

I keep thinking that I should do so more cooking but I'm currently at a loss. Nothing seems to call my name currently. So until I get inspired again, I'm working my way through some of the stuff in the freezer. Take that back. I think I just found the inspiration. Check back later this week.

You go back, Jack ...

Sometimes one has to experience a mistake a second time in order to understand fully that it is indeed a mistake. Such was the case yesterday.

Last night I had to pick my mom up from the airport. (Yes, we are speaking again.) After we arrived at the house, she asked about our sit-down with my dad. I told her that I think that he was waiting for her to return before scheduling it. Knowing my dad, he'll decide that since my mother and I are speaking again, the sit-down is unnecessary. Not. My mother also tried to talk me into spending the night at her house since it was late. It wouldn't have been so late if her flight had been on time but it was an hour late. I desperately wanted to get home though so I left. Besides I knew it was that magical hour during which there are actually parking choices in my neighborhood.

The drive home started off pretty well. I thought about some of the things I wanted to discuss with my mother when my father is present. Like how I have finally and truly embraced happiness. It took the mention of moving to make me realize it all. And the fact that come March I will have lived in this place for three years. That's a true record for me. Usually after a year in one place, I have wanted to move. But not now. Because after all these years, I have finally found a place that feels like home to me. I just can't imagine living anywhere else. It's a strange feeling since it's so foreign to me. And now knowing this has made me realize that I am truly happy.

And then I got that text message on the drive home. Retail Boy was in town. I sent him a message explaining that I was rather tired. So he called. Wanting to know what I had saved up on the DVR. And then I remembered that there had been the season finale of "Burn Notice." Suddenly I was wide awake. And I, like a fool, decided that it would be OK to have some company with whom I could watch TV. Just watch TV. Guess I should have made that clear.

He showed up shortly after I got home and proceeded to irritate the hell out of me. Like talking in an outside voice. Over me. He did most of the talking. Every time I tried to say something, he would try to interrupt in a much louder voice than mine. And I thought to myself, "What an ass." Every now and then he would make these stupid proclamations. I would correct him. He would respond with, "I knew that." And I thought to myself, "What an ass."

And did I get to see "Burn Notice?" Noooo. Because the ass wanted to see "Rock of Love." But the last episode was rather hilarious so I was willing to watch it again. And then he was at a loss as to why I noticed more in the show than he did. Perhaps I know how to listen while I'm talking. So maybe he should just shut the fuck up.

My favorite part of the evening was while he was watching Lacey's crazy ass dad, he kept saying, "I want to be a really good dad." OK. That part is kind of sane. Then he followed it up with, "Everyone keeps telling me I would be a really good dad." Didn't we have a conversation about "everyone" last summer? And this of course was after watching the end of Friday that made him say that the movie made him want to do drugs again. I guess he never caught that Robin Williams bit about parents who do drugs.

So he ended up getting his panties in a wad when I called him out over the talking over me shit. "I can't believe that you're saying that. I've been a perfect gentleman." Ummm. Gentlemen, in my book, do not try to interrupt you. "But I've listened to everything you said." Well, then act like it, you ass.

In the future if I say that I have answered his text or call, could someone please come along and slap me? Thank you.

Giving into pressure

Monday night I finally gave in and watched "The Closer." And then I fell asleep in the middle of the episode. Probably had something to do with the fact that I had not had my afternoon nap. Yesterday I remembered that I could watch the episode on demand.

And then I felt the need to watch episodes of "Matchmaker" that I had missed. And what the heck. There were four episodes of "The Two Coreys" available. Why didn't anyone twist my arm about that last one? If I had watched that first episode weeks ago, I would never have invited Grasshopper and her boyfriend to stay with me.

Meanwhile I am fighting other temptation. Namely this urge to call that boy. I know I haven't talked about him much on here but things basically ended back in June. Basically we are at different points in our lives right now. Or at least that's what we each perceived. That's what usually happens to me. Meet a perfectly good guy at the wrong time. It was pretty nice to have that person you could call if you were having an exceptionally great day -- or an exceptionally crappy one -- and who would listen. Even more so, on the exceptionally crappy days, not only did he listen but he could understand. Now that is truly a rarity. I had someone like that in my life years ago and kept on thinking that it wouldn't be possible again. Now I know that it is. I might just have to wait another eight or so years for it to happen again.

2007 has been a hard year for me. Family health issues. My own issues -- health and job. OK, and boys too. And it hasn't helped much in inspiring me to look for a job. The thought of heading out and putting on a happy face seems a bit overwhelming at times. And don't mention therapy at this point. My health benefits disappear at the end of this month. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to continue to pay the basic expenses of life -- and health insurance is not included. Then again I will be going to visit the Bank of Dad later this week so who knows.

Oh, and last night I braised some pork with cumin and coriander. Sorry but no pictures. After cooking, I was talking to my neighbor in the hallway about how her cat had killed the mouse in her apartment. A random guy passed by. He could have been a visitor or a new tenant. Anywho. When he passed, he commented, "That smells great." Of course, I already knew that. If all else fails, I have the comfort of food ...


and of the cats.

All I have to do is hold out my arm and Natasha will come over to rub against it. Now if only I could get Natasha to expand her repertoire from killing flies to include killing spiders.

End of da funk?

So this weekend I was able to get past that funk I've been in and actually made it out the door. Woohoo!

I started with baby steps on Friday by taking Boris to the vet's for the rest of his shots. Thankfully it was Boris and not Natasha since Boris is always ready to go. Apparently the only ugly moment is when he growled at the folks at the clinic while they gave him his pedicure. They can stick a thermometer up his ass -- no sound. Give him several shots -- once more, no sound. But try to trim his claws? You would think that someone was trying to kill him. Natasha, on the other hand, takes offense starting with the temperature taking. Her reaction is completely, "You want to put what where? I don't think so." Maybe I should spend my spare time stitching up a little leather outfit for Boris. I still think we can get him film work in Berlin.

After I dropped the porn star off, I went to Pet Food Express, a locally owned pet supply store. Their shelves had even less of B&N's brand of choice. Why? Because these folks pulled anything that might contain ingredients from outside of the U.S. I told the sales guy that Natasha likes her wet stuff chunky and so he recommended some stuff. All seafood. Also not the "indoor cat" formula kind of stuff that I prefer. I didn't buy any because I'm not really ready to go back to extra stinky poo.

And then I decided that I deserved a reward for leaving the house. Across the parking lot from the store was an Everett and Jones spot. I temporarily forgot myself and asked for the sauce on the side. Their meat is OK but it definitely needs the sauce. Not like KC's where the meat is so well-seasoned that the sauce is optional. Then again, E&J's is known for their sauce. My ideal world would be KC's meat with the E&J sauce. And the best part? Boris was at the vet's so I didn't have to worry about a cat begging for food while I enjoyed my BBQ.

Friday was the trial day because I knew that I had to head out on Saturday. Saturday was a birthday party for a woman who had attended my party. She had been calling me daily throughout the week to make sure that I would attend. I was a wee past fashionably late after stopping at Body Time to pick up the China Rain pack as her gift. OK. It was more like extreme CP time. The party started at 4:00. I showed up around 6:00. But I looked really cute, wearing some of the new stuff I picked up during my shopping spree.

I was feeling pretty up on my way home but still couldn't find the energy to go out. Probably because it was one of those kind of nights during which I felt I needed a partner in crime. And I don't have one anymore. My old partner, Grasshopper, did call on Saturday. She wanted me to keep her company while she packed up stuff. (She is moving to a new place with her boyfriend.) I brought along a book and we listened to classic disco and talked. When she was finished, I dropped her off at her boyfriend's job.

Strange thing about getting out of the house. Suddenly I didn't want to go back. It was getting to be about dinnertime and I wasn't thrilled with any of the choices in my fridge. I thought of plenty of places where I could have stopped but none sounded appealing. Then I had a brainstorm. I picked up the phone and called Buzzgirl. About a half hour later I found myself in the Mission to meet up with Buzzgirl for dinner at Esperpento. The only things that were the same were the calamari and the sangria. The chorizo were tasty and cute. (They were the size of those little cocktail franks that folks served in the 70s.) And the clams were swimming in that perfect blend of butter and garlic. Buzzgirl correctly surmised when the dish hit the table that we would be needing more bread. We ordered the patatas bravas but ended up with the patatas ali-oli. We did think about sending them back but ended up eating them. Great food and great company. Yep, the funk is over.

I did some thinking over the weekend. I think the real problem is that my two BFFs, Jade and Emerald, are currently out of town. The other women I know? Well most have men in their lives and can't be bothered with me except when the men are unavailable. I've always tried to not be that kind of woman. Because a man is a lot easier to find than a good friend. Well, at least that was the case in the past. And so the past week was a lot of wallowing in the feeling of being old and lonely. (This is why working is important. Work gives me something else to fill my days other than these thoughts.) I've also realized that the dating world is a lot like the work world for me -- I come off a lot better in person than I do on paper. But I haven't really felt like leaving home so what am I to do?

I did also consider getting another cat and fully embracing the life of crazy cat lady. But then I made it out of the house and life started to look better. Besides Natasha would probably do great injury to me and to any new cat I brought in if I did that.