Lucky....

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?

You are Napoleon Dyanamite and a buttload of gangs are trying to recruit you.
Take this quiz!

Speaking of Lars....

My brother's 3-year-old (almost 4!) son Lars had a skiing accident yesterday and broke his leg. He had surgery and all is looking fine.

Think good thoughts, send good vibes.

We love you, buddy.





The only boy. He is so adorable I could just spit.

Grandpa Lars' Head Shrinker Story

I loved my Grandpa Lars.

He was a Norwegian immigrant- a fisherman turned cattle rancher. He was a very big man (and I'm sure even bigger in my mind since my memories of him are from childhood). His accent was very heavy and I would often translate his heavily accented English for my friends.

I always felt very loved by him. Man, I idolized him. But I really felt like he felt the same way about his Grandkids that we felt about him. He came from a culture that treasured family in a way that we just don't see today.

Growing up on the ranch it was a given that we were all in 4-H. We had an annual County Fair every year that we all entered our steers or pigs or sheep or sewing projects.

And we, as a family, kicked ass.

It probably stemmed from having a perfectionist mother that would make you re-sew the hem of your dress millions of times until the stitches were even and beautiful and exactly right. But, I digress......

One year in particular we really racked up the prizes. Let's see....my brother had grand champion steer, I was grand champion round robin showman, my sister's steer ended up being the top steer in the entire state for carcass judging, Shannon and I both had incredible sewing projects......and the list went on and on.

Now Grandpa was pretty proud of us. I especially think he was proud of the fact that the ranch cattle did so well in public. (The fact that I was exceptionally good at "Showmanship" probably does not surprise anyone at this point) So, he decided he was in danger of getting "a big head".

Since he could build anything with wood or steel, he devised a "head shrinker".

It was a band of metal that he wore on his head that had an adjustable wingnut tightener on it. He could loosen or tighten this band at will. Whenever someone would come over and the subject of the fair would come up, Grandpa would make this big show of digging out the "headshrinker", putting it on, telling of our prizes earned, and tightening the device throughout the story. He wouldn't tell the guest what, exactly, he was doing until the end of the list of his grandchildren's achievements.

He would then say, "Oh ya, you know, dees kids they do so gut dat I haf to wear dis head shrinker to stop my head from growink and growink."

And then we would laugh with his cheeks puffing out, slapping his knee over and over.


I wish I had that head shrinker.

After everything that went on with Maya on Monday she had a performance at her Spring Concert Tuesday night. She has always been shy and very reluctant to get upin front of a crowd. She had a "surfing song" that she was singing with some other third graders.

Not only that, she was put right next to the girl that made "the comment" about her skin color.

And she absolutely glowed. She smiled. She sang.

There was no nervousness evident. At all.




And Sophie!

She has always been the one that has craved the stage. And finally, she got a part! She was one of the Japanese dancers doing an beautiful dance called "Sakura".

She was the only one who really knew it. The other kids looked to her for the clue of what to do next. And she did it beautifully and gracefully and......oh, she was just good.

An old woman who I had never seen before stopped her when we were walking out and said, "If I was a talent scout, I would have picked you honey. You did a beautiful job."



Did I happen to mention that I am proud of them? (tightening wingnut....)

Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo....

Monday night I came home to a message from Maya's Elementary School principal (Mrs. Hoban who is incredible and wonderful and non-principal-ish). It stated that she would like me to call her at my earliest convenience regarding something that happened to Maya at school that day. She made sure to add that Maya was safe and was not in trouble.

And, of course, it was too late for me to talk to her by the time I got the message.

I was worried.

Maya is the type of student who prides herself in never getting in trouble. She has been the teacher's pet in every class so far. It actually worries me. I would like to see a bit more spunk and a bit less people-pleasing.....

When Maya was in daycare I tended to get the call "Mrs. ****, your daughter was bitten by another child in the classroom today." She was never the one who did the biting.

When Maya came in I asked her, "So, what happened in school today?" That's all I said. I didn't say it accusingly. It was just a conversational question.

Maya sighed, her cheeks turned pink, she got a bit teary-eyed and plunked down on the couch with an audible groan.

Of course, because I was always the kid that GOT in trouble, I immediately thought "Oh great, what did she do?" But thank God I didn't say it out loud.

A "friend" (I use this term as loosely as it could possible be used) got mad at Maya at recess and told her, "I don't like brown people".



Let me just state this one more time....

A NINE YEAR OLD GIRL IN THE YEAR 2006 TOLD MY BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER THAT SHE DIDN'T LIKE HER BECAUSE OF THE COLOR OF HER SKIN.



The school dealt with it very well. Everyone was called in, it was discussed. Things are being put in place with teachers, playground duties and the administration.

The rest of the day, though, all the kids were asking her why she had to go to the office. This was horrible for Maya. She was so worried that the kids were thinking that she got in trouble for something. It embarrassed her.

I bet the girls that actually said it thought nothing of being in the office. She's been in trouble before. No skin off her nose.

So, in all of this drama, the one that was being protected ended up feeling much worse than the one that actually got in trouble. That is the part that really sucks. That is the part that makes me cry.

I am not naive enough that this prejudice comes as a huge surprise. But amazingly, I have had people that are just shocked when I tell them what happened. I'm not sure if they just wish that the world was without prejudice or that they really and truly believe that the world (and especially America) has gotten past their prejudice past.

I grew up in a family where the N word was used in certain situations without a second thought. It was never "meant" to be derogatory to a certain race of people.

You probably grew up with some of the same things.

A Brazil nut was not a Brazil nut.

You did not catch a tiger by the toe.


I bartended in a dead end bar in the middle of Montana where most jokes started out, "There was a Texan, a Montanan and a N...."

I never liked it. I even fought with a few people about it.

But the majority of the time I either halfway chuckled at the jokes, or just ignored them. I am not proud of either of those reactions.

When I had my girls I realized that I could no longer just ignore prejudice. Or excuse it because of someone's age, or how they were raised.

We are all adults. We are responsible for what comes out of our mouths.

Anytime you just ignore a stupid drunk saying the N word, you ignore the problem. You add to the pool of insults that hurt innocent, wide-eyed, big-hearted little 9 year old girls.

You hurt Maya. And that is not okay.

Fight Song

I went to a high school named Beaverhead County High School.

Yeah, I know.

And, yes. We were the fighting Beavers (hanging my head in shame).

I don't know what got into me yesterday, but at dinner I sang the entire BCHS fight song to the girls.

"On to victory Beaverhead!
Fight for the Blue and Gold.
Take the ball and keep it going,
Show 'em that you're brave and bold!

Rah! Rah! Rah!

We will win the game this night,
Rain or shine or cold.
So, on to victory Beaverhead
We fight for the Blue and Gold.

We fight! We fight!
We fight for the score this afternoon!
We fight! We fight!
We fight for the Beavers too.

(repeat)

So on to victory Beaverhead.
Fight for the Blue and Gold.
Take the ball and keep it goin"
Show 'em that you're brave and bold.

Rah! Rah! Rah!

We will win the game this night.
Rain or shine or cold.
So, on to victory Beaverhead.
We fight for the Blue and Gold!"

Yep.

This is my post for the day...

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sfo/142346249.html

Brilliant.

Resume Entry October 1, 2004 - August 23rd, 2005

Recreational Equipment, Inc. (REI)

How do I love REI? Let me count the ways.....

I have been staying at home for a few years when I stumbled onto this job. I didn't really consider it a long term thing. Just a part time job to get me back into the swing of working outside the home again. I had been looking and looking for an oppurtunity to get back into the workforce.

And honestly? I wasn't having any luck.

I had decided that the smartest thing would be to get back into the Finance Industry where I had the most recent experience. It really made no sense at all for me to go back to work for less than $16 an hour. Otherwise, there would be no way to pay for care for the kids and all that.

After looking for MONTHS and not finding anything that would bring me in at what I needed, I decided that I would take the next damn job that came down the pipe. That morning I opened the newspaper to the Classifieds and there was a large ad "REI Hiring Seasonal Call Center Employees".

It was a part-time, seasonal job. It would get me through Christmas while I was still looking for something else.

I interviewed and got the job.

And the variable , every-other-weekend-start-at-4-am-shift.

But I still loved it.

I took calls from people who ordering out of the REI catalog. That is all I did for the first 3 months. It wasn't the job that I loved, per se, it was the atmosphere.

It's all about product knowledge at REI. We needed to know everything about the majority of the items we sold. If you were to walk into the REI call center you would see people messing around with stuff like climbing hand strengtheners and star seekers and GPS units.

They would actually have clinics where they would hide treasure around the warehouse and we would have to find it with GPS coordinates. We also had to set up entire campsites in our lunch room - tents, sleeping pads, bags, stoves.....all the way down to the french press coffee mugs.

Nearing the end of my "seasonal employment" I began to panic.

I did not want to leave this low-paying-crazy-scheduled job. Well, at least I didn't want to leave the company.

They always keep some of the seasonal staff and I was hoping and praying they would choose me.

They did.

Resume Entry - August 24th, 2005 - January 3rd, 2006

After working in the call center at REI for EVER, it seemed, I finally got an oppurtunity to get a chance at a Headquarters job.

I had been whining to my supervisor for months. I couldn't stay at this job much longer. The pay was not enough. The hours were horrible. I would get my girls up at 2:30 am, haul them to their babysitter's house, put them back to bed and then go to work. But, I also knew that it would take an act of God or total monetary desperation to get me to leave this company.

I was rapidly approaching the latter.

I had noticed a job posting for a Temporary Legal Administrative Assistant. It had been posted a few times, but I ignored it. The job description was incredibly long and intimidating and I just assumed that there would be no way I would be considered for the position. My supervisor (insert many thanks to her here!) convinced me to apply.

I interviewed and miraculously got the job. I did, however, use my "I was a truck driver in Alaska" story. It's a great story. Irresistable to prospective employers.

I was covering for someone on maternity leave, so I knew it was truly temporary - but I won't lie. I was hoping that she might not decide to come back and her job would just automatically become mine.

It was a good job. Nice pay. I was supporting the General Legal Counsel of the company. She was great to work for and I loved all my co-workers. But really, the job just wasn't me. I need socialization! People! Excitement!

What I got was leases! Litigation! Paperwork!

When I learned that the maternity leave was in fact going to be temporary I was thrilled and scared all at the same time. I could automatically go back to my previous job.

Back to the bad pay.

Back to those crazy hours.

Then it happened. The job that I originally wanted all along was posted. I needed that job. I wanted that job.

And for my financial and emotional well-being that job was a necessity.

Resume Entry January 4, 2006 - Present

So when I started with the Legal Department I was officially full-time. Which also meant I qualified for the awesome benefit's package. Medical, dental, acupuncture, massage, etc, etc, etc. They even had someone from Human Resources sit down with me one-on-one for an hour to explain the benefit package!

What company does that? Usually it's - "Here is a list of your benefits available to you. Here is what you need to do. Goodbye."

The entire time the HR person is presenting the all the information on the cool perks I now was now getting I was thinking, "Wow. I would be really great at her job. I would LOVE her job. What a great job."

Well, her job became available at the end of my temporary stint in the Legal Dept. AND I APPLIED AND GOT IT!

It's been three months and I love it more and more every day.I get to welcome all the new hires to the company and watch their faces as we go through what this company offers it's employees.

It is ridiculous.

I just met with an ex-Microsoft employee that is new to REI. Microsoft is known for being a great place to work. Great benefits. Great atmosphere.

He was blown away with what we offer. He even mentioned that he has been here for less than a month and his friends are commenting on his great attitude. He couldn't understand what everyone all over campus was smiling about, but he gets it now.

It makes me proud. I never want to leave.

I Need To Find Myself. Obviously.

This morning I woke up sleeping with my head where my feet should be. I had my pillows and everything down there.

Maybe the following will explain it:

I also had a dream last night that I was a drop-dead gorgeous black transgender woman. (Is that right? I had been a man, but was now a woman?)

Anyway, the dream involved me getting lots of attention from males who had no idea of my sex (not sexual, actually sex) history. I liked it. They thought I was beautiful.

Then they found out the truth.

The look on their faces was horrific. They were still smiling, but in a "You are not beautiful, you are now an object of scorn" sort of way. The kind of smiles that make your stomach cramp up because you are so scared of what they might be capable of.

Ugh.

It was really scary.

I'm glad they were random men and not someone I really knew or I would have a really hard time forgiving them for looking at me like that.

The Apples Are Falling Far From The Tree

Maya's report card comment section:

"Maya's positive attitude, conscientious completion of her assigned work and commitment to doing her best has provided her with many successes this year. Progress and improvement have been evident this trimester. We are working hard in the area of writing; it's encouraging to see her understanding grow. Thank you for sending such a delightful person to our class."

Sophie's report card comment section:

"Sophia continues to be successful in all areas. She as completed 30 of 38 units in the Readwell program and is currently reading independently in the Accelerated Reader program. She has read over 20 books in this program with a 96% accuracy on her tests. Sophia is able to write a well organized paragraph with topic sentence and at least two supporting sentences. She is an accurate speller and had beautiful handwriting. Her skills in math are good, as well. Sophia sets high standards for herself in both academics and citizenship and is a delight to have in class."

Shari's report card comment section from 1978:

"Shari talks too much in class and can be disruptive."

Guest Blogger - Maya

Due to our normal blogger being abnormally busy and smack dab in the middle of the busiest two weeks of the year at her work, we will be posting an entry from Maya today.

The Snowstorm

by Maya

School was almost out when the princibal came in and said school is out. Everyone ran outside except me, my 3 friends and the teacher. The doors wer locked. School was dismissed.

We smile.

We go to the lunch room. We eat pizza like crazy. All of a sudden a window cracks. Uh-oh! The roof falls in and the power goes out. We ran down the hall. We feel a little scard.

We like running so we play tag. We hear a siren coming. It's the fire rescue.

We don't want to leave.



(I particularly like the verb tense changes. It conveys the confusion and the fear of the situation. Also, why don't they want to leave with the fire rescue people? Is this the first glimpse of anti-authority Maya? Hmmmmm......)

New Endeavors

I have decided to begin a reverse chronicle-ization of my life through my jobs. Kind of like a resume in story form. I have no idea how deep I will get into this, but I have some good stories about my jobs.

OOOO! And the people and events that have led me to these jobs.

When I'm done, I will be able to read all of these, in the proper chronological order.

How cool is that?

I am starting my first one right now.

Number Two

Thanks to Janie I now know that I have had a number two! (as far as Miriam Webster's dictionary definitions are concerned)

I was so thinking within the Number 1 definition.

My bad.

Main Entry: mir·a·cle

Pronunciation: 'mir-i-k&l

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English, from Old French, from Late Latin miraculum, from Latin, a wonder, marvel, from mirari to wonder at

1 : an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs
2 : an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing, or accomplishment
3 Christian Science : a divinely natural phenomenon experienced humanly as the fulfillment of spiritual law

Miracle on River Road*

I have been telling my lost wallet story to everyone.

Well, I have actually stopped short of telling strangers on the train, but everyone I know has been informed.

I don't want to get into any religion or politics on my blog, this is supposed to be about IMPORTANT things.

Like me, for instance.

But, I feel like I have to briefly touch on the following subject:

Don't you think "Miracle" is a strong word to use when describing the discovery of a lost wallet?

I cannot tell you how many people have said, "The Lord was looking down on you," or "The candle I lit for you Sunday paid off in that miracle," or "Are you going to come to my church this Sunday NOW that He did that for you?" or "Someone was really looking out for you on that one.".

I think it was pretty darn great that my wallet was found - with everything in it - two weeks after I lost it. It was great. I am thankful.

But it is not a miracle.

God (or Budda, or Odin, or Ra) is probably pretty busy right now giving Slobodan Milosevic a good talking to.

*River Road is the street they found my wallet on. It's a clever play on words. "Miracle on 34th St"? Nevermind.

If You Don't Read This Post You Are A Puppy Hater

If you think you are done with the guilt trips, you are dead wrong.

You all know Ant, right? My soulmate?

Go read his March 11th post and donate to his cause. If you don't know what pounds are in comparison to dollars, just wing it.

Really.

It doesn't matter, just give him some money! The more the better!

He's a great guy.

(I mean, I think he's a great guy. I just know him through his blog. But I would venture a wager of at least $10 that he is a great guy. Yeah.)

I Love A Man In Uniform

I was a major idiot two weeks ago and merrily drove out of the Kmart parking lot with my wallet atop the Minty Squirrel. It had over $100 cash, my driver's license, my employee discount card (very, very important) and numerous other things inside (the wallet, not the Squirrel).

I had a few people tell me that I should call the police department to check if anyone turned it in. I didn't.

I think I didn't because:

(a) I didn't believe it would be turned in.

(b) If it was turned in it probably would be missing the important stuff (read here: cash).

(c) I secretly believed that I did not deserve it back since I was such an idiot and put it on my car roof anyway.

(d) All of the above (the right answer!)

I answered the phone at work this morning with my usual, "This is Shari," and silently freaked out when I heard, "This is Sgt. Eberly from the Puyallup Police Department, I am looking for a Shari **(spelling last name)***."

Okay, along with my intolerance of "the tone" I also have a residual fear of authority that is part of the luggage I still carry from my youth.

I was sure I was in huge trouble. Huge. (Even though I haven't done anything illegal in years.)

Au contraire!(I have no idea how to spell "The French Words" sorry) The fantastic Sgt. Eberly found my wallet. WITH the money AND driver's license AND employee discount card and all of the other things still intact.

Authority is still scary, but Sgt. Eberly is totally my hero!

Dangerous Mental Loops

I had a fight with my Mom last night.

I know that I have not been the easiest daughter to raise. I know I have also made my fair share of mistakes in my adult life. But how many times do I have to call her to make up for the times that I didn't call? How many good decisions do I have to make to make up for the bad ones? Is there a specific number?

At a certain point the "making up for it" thing is just not worth the fight anymore.

There is just something about "the tone". You know, that tone of voice that brings you right back to being 16 and grounded? It makes me insane. I get so incredibly angry when confronted by the tone that it really doesn't matter anymore if she has a valid point. The validity of her argument is negated by "the tone".

For the first time in a very long time I lay in bed last night wishing there was someone beside me. To talk to, to touch, to smell. Anything to stop the angry mental thought loop from circling through my head.

You know when you are in love with someone and they smell all manly and good and sleepy? You know when you just want to shove your nose into their neck and smell them because it is the smell of affection, protection and acceptance? Do you know?

Anyway, I miss that. But I also remember when that smell changed. It changed to indifference and later to dislike and later there was no smell at all. I think the body chemistry actually changes when someone loves you as opposed to when they don't.

I am going by smell from now on.

And I would rather smell my pillow than nothing at all.

Incognito is Neato

Every year I take time from work on the girls' birthdays. They play hooky from school and we tear up the town. It is literally a desperate attempt to fit a huge amount of crazy-type fun into one day.

I notice that they have a heck of a lot more stamina than they used to.

Here is a brief synopsis of Maya's 9th birthday, March 7, 2006 (otherwise known as the "Oh My God she is half of 18 and she may not ever want to be silly with her Mom after this and next year she will have two digits in her age" birthday).......


When playing hooky, be ready with aliases and disguises. I was Rose Bush (no relation to the president, thank goodness) Sophie was Daisy Chain and Maya was Lily Valley (middle name "of the"). These were successful aliases/disguises because, well, we didn't get caught now, did we?

Maya chose "Odyssey 1" as her first destination. It is an indoor play park (tubes, unsanitary ball pits, video games, laser tag....) The girls did not even hit the video games or laser tag. The spent THREE HOURS playing in the tube part of the park. THREE HOURS. The deal has always been that I am just along for the ride and it is the birthday girls day, plain and simple. They are obviously testing me.

This is what happened to Sophie the minute she got in the car.

We obviously needed nourishment, so Maya opted for the ever-nutritional ice cream lunch.

Then we saw a pretty tree and stopped the car to take a picture.

Then it was off to our favorite park. This is them making fun of me because I can't catch them.

I hate them. And their ice cream induced hyperactivity.

Another cool tree.

Me on the swings. Do you know how hard it is to take pictures from a swing? Notice the interesting perspective including me, Maya, the storm clouds and the Minty Squirrel. It says....something, I'm sure, about us.

It started to rain and rain and rain. On the drive home we noticed the daffodils had chosen her birthday to begin blooming. Ta-dah!

And later that evening, we ate the official birthday lemon meringue pie. Candles do not stand up in meringue very well.

Just so you know.

What We Did This Weekend

My fantastic sister, Shannon, is home from Antartica and graced us with her presence for a few days. The girls were happy, happy, happy! She is on her way to vacation in Costa Rica with her boyfriend (Although they have been together for some time, I have never met him. I am unconvinced that he is real. We shall see.)

I heard through the grapevine that she got in a wreck and totaled out the rental car. She had called and left a message on the phone, but did not mention anything about the accident. (She is all stoic like that. I would have been bawling like the baby I am.)

Since I have not had the chance to talk to her directly, and I know that she reads this....

Hi Shannon! I'm glad you are okay! I hope you don't have a sore neck or other injuries that will dampen your trip. And holy crap, I'm glad it was no worse. Have I told you how much I love you? 'Cause, wow, I really do.

And the second near tragedy of the weekend involved the guinea pigs. Sunny Cisco was the one that was used in the Science Fair project. Frere Jacque (Sophie's guinea pig) somehow broke his top teeth off at the gumline. They were hanging by a thread of gum too big for me to pull the rest of the way out so his teeth were flipped out from between his lips and resting on the outside of his upper lip. They were all bloody and horrible looking and Maya almost hyperventilated.

We were able to take them to the vet who pulled the teeth, cut their toenails (Sunny was along for moral support), and told us that they were "very fat guinea pigs". Frere should be fine. We are babying him terribly and feeding him strawberries and broccolli. (No oranges so the acid won't sting his gums. That would be torture.)

Maya and I had a fight on Sunday about her birthday and her expectations. I have done many things for her. This year has us in a great spot. I can pay bills and provide without panic. But her expectations of me tend to compare me with her father. She doesn't know that he pays $300 in rent and pays no bills because he is lucky enough to have just moved in with his well-to-do buddy of his. I pay three times that for rent, all the bills and also the incidentals that come along with having kids in the house.

He comes on the weekends and takes them to movies and buys them DVD's and CD's and clothes. Basically, all the things that are just not in my budget. He puts on the hero cape and Maya has been buying it hook, line and sinker. I think she understands a bit better now though. The fight involved her in her room crying and me in my room crying. Then, apologies, cuddling and making construction paper flowers.

If in doubt, ALWAYS make construction paper flowers.

We decided that we always did fine when we had NO money at birthday time before. We made do with what we had and it was always fantastic. So, we discussed what we could do like that this year, and came up with decorating the house with spring flowers and "snow" since her birthday is right on the edge of winter and spring. (the "snow" is cotton balls) There is nothing better than being in a house with homemade flowers and cotton balls hanging from the ceiling. If you don't believe me, you should just try it.

And Maya also hates cake. Which challenges the birthday imagination. Last year I made a tiered "cake of chocolate chip cookies and whipped cream frosting. Huge hit. This year I crafted a lemon meringue pie. Totally from scratch. From lemons and eggs and stuff.

I so rock.

Geez. I'm tired.

Book Club

I love Tom Robbins.

The author.

I read "Another Roadside Attraction" a few times a year, I love it so much. (It's the one about the couple that lives in the Skagit Valley in a hot dog stand\roadside zoo and their friend, who works for the Vatican's secret police, finds the mummified body of Jesus in the catacombs after an earthquake. And then it pontificates on what would happen when Christians had the resurrection rug pulled out from underneath them.)

You know the one.


I am currently re-reading "Skinny Legs and All" (the one about a purple sock, a painted stick, a conch shell, a can of pork and beans and a silver spoon on a journey from a cave in Utah to Jerusalem. Oh, and don't forget the part about the Arab and Jew opening a restaurant (Isaac and Ishmael's) across the street from the UN...... That is integral to the plot.)

So, anyway.... I have read this excerpt over and over the past few days:

"One tended to lose one's bearings in the presence of willful and persistent acts of craziness, and the more gentle the act, the crazier it seemed, as if rage and violence, being closer to the norm, were easier to accommodate."

It just strikes a cord with me somehow....

A Summary

Dreams I have had lately....

1. I was late for work and the train was just sitting there with no one around. I decided it would be a good idea if I just jumped in and drove it myself. Things went swimmingly until I realized I had no idea where the brake was and people were waiting at the next stop. I finally found the brake, stopped the train 400 yards past the stop, backed up to pick everyone up - only to be arrested for driving the train without a license. You know - I didn't even need to stop for those people. I was just trying to be nice.
2. I was digging through jars in my house and the ashtray in my car for change. I couldn't find anything but pennies (irritating) and silver and half dollars (too cool to spend).
3. I had a, how to say this......"Brokeback Mountain" themed dream about two strange men in prison. I was talking to myself during it - trying to wake myself up before "it" happened, but I couldn't. I was really worried it was going to be horrible and violent, but they obviously loved each other. *blush*

My interpretations.....

1. I like to be in the driver's seat, but I am not mean about it and still enjoy doing things for other people. This is something that I believe should shield me from all bad things (karma theory).
2. I am finally at a point that I am able to pay bills and actually save money. No coincidence that I had this dream right before my bonus payout and right after my raise went into effect.
3. Hmmmm...... Love isn't as bad as I think it is?

What do you think?

Zydeco

I went to a Zydeco concert last night with my friend Jeannie.

It was Fat Tuesday and I assumed this would be at some sort of bar-type establishment. Fat Tuesday, Zydeco, Mardi Gras - it all smacks of alcohol and crawdads to me.

It was actually in a high school auditorium.

Sans beer.

They were absolutely amazing. But man did I feel for them. The crowd tended toward the geriatric. They were not the let-loose-backcountry-dance-in-the-aisle-type folks.

It was painful. I yelled and even danced a bit, but I don't think it helped.

Let me tell you a little bit about this group, though.

Terrence Simien is incredible...

• He makes the accordion sexy.
• He plays on stage barefoot.
• He throws Mardi Gras beads into the crowd with his toes.
• His lead guitarist is ridiculously good.
• So is the keyboardist - but I wished I could have heard him better.
• He has an accordion that says "I Love Hippie Chicks"on it.
• His smile is... um.....

Let's just talk about his smile.

His smile is angel/devil split about 60/40. (Click here and enlarge the picture of him with Angelica Houston. You will see what I mean.)

His smile is able to change from happy, delirious, mocking and flirtatious - BUT the dimensions of his smile are always the same. Maybe it is body language. Or his eyes. Whatever it is I found myself either smiling at his joy or laughing at the secret that his grin conveyed.

I felt like his smile was letting me in on a private joke.

Man, he was great.

I know it must have been horrible to spend his Fat Tuesday with an unresponsive and conservative crowd of old people, but his smile never once faded.

It may have secretly mocked, but it never faded.

And his feet. I have to tell you about his feet.

I have already mentioned that he is onstage barefoot. Ripped jeans, a smile like a Cheshire cat, and bare feet.

Sigh.

I have a thing about men and bare feet. I don't think it is necessarily a foot fetish. It has to be the right type of guy, with the right type of pants (no shorts, no slacks. Jeans - preferably frayed a bit around the bottom hem) and the right kind of feet.

And there it was. The right kind of guy, pants and feet! On stage!

I think it must be a subconscious symbol of vunerability. Or comfort. Or a "I'm not going anywhere for awhile 'cause I have my shoes off" thing.

I couldn't sleep when I got home.

I don't know about those old people, but I had a great night.

Fat Head Tuesday

This is my rant post for the day. We will be directly moving on from this post and posting again.

But, I just have to get this out.

I went to a Zydeco concert last night (Fat Tuesday). My girls were taken care of by a friend of mine who volunteered to keep them overnight and take them to school in the morning.

Hey, I'm a single Mom who rarely gets out without my kids. Rarely meaning a few times a year.

Really.

So, when I got home I had 7 (SEVEN) messages on my phone from my kid's Dad.

"Where are you guys...."

"Why do you have the girls out so late on a school night...."

"What the hell are you doing?!!"

"I don't know where the hell you could have them, but, this is f**king ridiculous...."

And it just kept getting better.

I called him this morning so that he would know we were alive and well. Although, I truly believe I don't even need to do that much. You know what he said to me?

"What kind of Mother are you? I can't believe you would do this to them on a school night."

You know, I called him when the girls had their cheerleader performance.... I called him when Maya was going to be in the Science Fair so he could actually show up....

Where the fuck was he then?

I know it's not about the kids. I know it's about control.

Fuck him.

Fucker.