Yesterday i woke up sucking a lemon

I was listening to my iTunes just now, specifically Radiohead's "Everything in its Right Place" and I had the following IM conversation with Babs:

bell: another COS: In Radiohead's song "Everything in its right place", what does he say in the beginning? I swear he says " yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon"
babs: i can't think of that song offhand
bell: it drives me insane
bell: yes-ster-day-i woke up suck-ing a lee-mone
babs: i bet you could find the lyrics online
bell: that's what i'm doing as we speak
bell: OH MY GOD. It DOES say "Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon"
bell:
bell: all these years I thought I was just retarded because I could not figure out what it said
babs: you were right!
bell: Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon

I'm now wondering what other things in my life I have always assumed i'm wrong about, but i'm ACTUALLY RIGHT? If you know of anything offhand, feel free to share. This has been a most enlightening afternoon...

Validation

Glory glory hallelujah. Today is the first day ALL WEEK I don't feel like I suck at my job. For the first time since i've been here, which is going on 7 months now, three of the ads I wrote copy for got chosen to be presented to the client! And I think they actually have a chance of being chosen! This is a big deal for me because I'd never written ads before coming here, and it's a lot different than any of the writing I've done before. So I feel this huge sense of relief -- I CAN do it, however painful ;) But my boss said it gets easier the more you do it, so i'm counting on that. Anyway -- woo hoo! If it gets picked, I'll actually have something cool to put in my book...

that is all.

Is that really the best I can do??

I posted earlier that it was a bad food day for me today. In fact, an abysmal, grim food day. That's why I decided to order a pizza for dinner -- I mean WTF, the day, no the WEEK, is shot anyway... But I digress. So I get said pizza and am curled up on my couch under my down blanket, with Jess sitting on my hip and staring at my pizza. I'm watching something riveting on tv, I think it was "Without a Trace" but I might have the timeline wrong. I'm sitting there, it's about 8, and someone knocks on my door. I'm thinking, well, the pizza guy is long gone; all my friends know to call first; could it be...NO, that's a ridiculous thought, it's not HIM. Intrigued, I went to the door and opened it (thank God my mom doesn't read this blog, she'd be up here in a second with her pepper spray) and saw two shapes on my porch -- my porchlight has been broken for a year, the pizza men love trying to find my house and I love unexpected guests at night who I can't see -- BUT I DIGRESS... As soon as I realized I didn't know them, my body went into shut-down-the-salesperson mode. The girl was like "I'm sorry to bother you [but she did it anyway, didn't she?], but I'm jkl;jkl; and this is jkl;jkl;fdas" -- at which point jkl;jkl;fdas stuck out his hand to me as if I would shake it with pizza still on my fingers. You have to understand that all of this transpired in under 30 seconds. I interrupted, really irritated at this point, and said, and this is rich, "I'm right in the middle of something, but thanks." and shut the door. Headed back to my couch. Settled in. Then I realized that there are windows on either side of my front door, and at night one can see right into my living room, and there's no way those people didn't see me being lazy, eating pizza, watching tv -- and I said "I'm right in the middle of something". Brilliant. I'm a hot rod.

But then again, why do I care what two strangers interrupting my pizza binge and tv-watching spree think about me? They were probably from a church handing out fliers for the singles group -- in which case I am going straight to hell.

Before I can eat anything else, i'm going to bed.

Emotional eating sucks

I am slammed at work today, and very stressed out, but I wanted to post real quick that I feel even WORSE because I've been stuffing my face since I woke up this morning. I even know, as I'm doing it, that it's a coping mechanism -- but that doesn't make it any easier to stop. I feel like I have absolutely no self control. Just in general. sigh. Maybe i'll feel better when my work presentation is over with this afternoon. I hope so...

that is all.

There should be no limits to beauty

My friend Steph has a cool list on her blog today, so I am inspired to do one as well. I have decided to list my Top Ten Favorite Beauty Products of the Moment. For those of you who don't know, I am somewhat of a beauty product whore. That is, I love trying new things and can survive with no less than 9 shower gels in my shower at a time...no less than 10 lotions in my bedside table...no less than 6-7 lipsticks in my purse... etc etc, you get the idea. SO I was going to do a Top Five list, but could not narrow it down. So if you are the slightest bit interested in beauty products, here are some recommendations. (If you're really interested in this type of thing, check out www.makeupalley.com for product reviews, message boards and beauty product swapping -- it's all very exciting.) So:

Top Ten Favorite Beauty Products of the Moment (in no particular order)

1. Origins Cocoa Therapy Deeply Nourishing Body Butter -- the texture of this is amazing and it smells like tootsie rolls or brownies -- I can barely keep myself from licking it right out of the tub. (www.origins.com)

2. Philosophy 3-in-1 in "Cinnamon Buns" -- this line has tons of yummy flavors in their "3-in-1" formula -- meaning, it can be used as a body wash, bubble bath, or shampoo/conditioner. I generally don't recommend it for use in hair, just because. But these produce foam to die for and make your showers extra yummy. Other flavors to check out: Hot Cocoa; Strawberry Milkshake; Chocolate Chip Cookie. (www.philosophy.com)

3. Urban Decay Lip Gunk in "Paranoid" -- This lipgloss is the perfect color for that natural look - if your lips are horribly unpigmented, like mine. Seriously, if i'm not wearing lipstick, i have no lips. This is a great "YLBB" color (your lips but better -- don't laugh) and the formula stays on forever and ever and is not sticky like some glosses. Also smells great. (www.urbandecay.com)

4. LUSH Sympathy for the Skin body lotion -- A must-have body lotion. Texture is not as thick as a body butter, more like yogurt. Goes on smooth, sinks in immediately, and smells very comforting -- a mix of vanilla and something else. (www.lush.com)

5. Bathsweets Foaming Sugar Scrubs -- I have these in several flavors and LOVE them. It's just what it says -- a sugar scrub that you use in the shower, but it contains bubbling soap so that it foams up and makes you slippery and shiny too. I use this a couple times a week -- I scrub it on with my hands, a limb at a time -- wax on, wax off! Flavors to try: Brown Sugar; Pink Sugar; Pineapple Upside Down Cake. (www.bathsweets.com)

6. Mac Lipstick in "Luxe" -- but I really love all their colors that I've tried so far. These are creamy, stay on for a long time, and smell nice too. This color is my everyday color that goes with everything. (www.maccosmetics.com)

7. Stila Eyeshadow Mousse Pots -- a mousse-textured e/s that you can swipe on lightly for a sheer look or layer for a more intense look. These are new and lovely. I have one in "Iris" and am wanting more! I know this is silly, but the packaging is also SO adorable :-) (www.stilacosmetics.com)

8. LUSH French Kiss bubble bar -- Another LUSH favorite. This particular one is shaped like a big hershey's kiss, is purple/white swirled, and smells like lavendar. VERY soothing for bedtime, and each bubble bar is good for at least 2 baths, depending on the size of your tub. Loads of creamy bubbles and luxurious scent that subtly sticks with you for hours afterwards. (www.lush.com)

9. Bath & Body Works Tutti Dolce line - Cinnamon Frosting Moisturizing Body Souffle -- OMG. This is to DIE for. The texture is a creamy mix between butter and yogurt. It doesn't smell like cinnamon frosting, but it smells delicious. Not sticky, very moisturizing, and it comes in a beautiful glass jar that looks so pretty on my nightstand. I have also tried the Tutti Dolce body washes and have been very impressed. Other flavors to try: Creme Brulee; Chocolate Fondue; Lemon Merengue (sp).

10. TiGi Bedhead "Hardhead" Hairspray -- this is magic. It's an aerosol spray that doesn't stink, lasts forever, and actually holds your hair without looking like you're wearing hairspray. I know, I didn't believe it either -- until I tried it. Magnificent.

There you go. If anyone is actually interested in these types of beauty tips, plmk and I can post more -- but I know not everyone is obsessed like I am :-)

Flaming kitty

And I don’t mean gay. This afternoon I was sitting on my couch, watching Lifetime television, enjoying all my lit, fragrant candles, like I do every day. None of them are within kitty reach, and anyway, the kitties know better. Uh huh. I was thinking about taking a nap because I was so comfy when I noticed a horrible smell. The smell of burning…what? Oh yes, burning hair (don’t ask me why I recognize that smell)…or more like…FUR. Uh oh. That only meant one thing – a kitty had violated the candle rule. I jumped up as Piper jumped onto my coffee table, swishing her tail, her enormous, fluffy tail, and that’s when I realized THAT’s where the smell was coming from. I grabbed her tail and sure enough, there were the telltale ashes in about a 3-inch area on the underside. The curly, acrid, flaky ashes. A Lot of them. She was fine – I’m sure she didn’t even know it happened – and the fire was apparently out. That’s why it’s good to have fluffy kitties, so if they catch on fire they don’t even know. Uh huh. But the smell was so bad I had to get up and check the room and make sure she hadn’t caught anything else on fire. Everything was fine but I blew out the candles. When things had settled down again, I started thinking how and why did the fire go out by itself? Was it because she swished her tail so fast it blew out? Or did her leaping off the bar and running to the coffee table put it out? And how lucky was I that she didn’t literally burst into flames, or make my house do so? And yes, this has happened before, but not in a long time –I thought we were past burning kitties. When Jess was a kitten, he used to always have tiny, curled whiskers/eyebrows because he would lean in to smell a candle and it would curl his hair. He, however, eventually learned his lesson. And here it is, the much-anticipated punchline:

Some of us have to be burned over and over again to learn a lesson -- not everyone gets it the first time.

Girly girls

The woman who sits next to me just got a phone call from her sister (who also works here) after she just got a sonogram -- and Helen cried out "It's a GIRL!" amidst clapping and cheers. As soon as she hung up the phone, she squealed out, in delight, "Yay! Tutus and glitter!!"

I think that pretty much sums it up!

That evil, conniving Sponge Bob

I cannot believe what I just read on BBC News, World Edition [http://news.bbc.co.uk/]. I'm pasting in the whole article, withholding my comments til afterwards :

BEGINNING OF ARTICLE--

HEADLINE: US right attacks SpongeBob video

US conservative groups are up in arms over a music video featuring children's TV heroes such as the cheerful cartoon character SpongeBob SquarePants.

Focus on the Family and other groups say the video - a remake of the Sister Sledge hit, We Are Family - is a vehicle for pro-gay propaganda.

The video's makers plan to mail it to US schools in the spring to promote tolerance and diversity.

They say the attack is based on a misunderstanding.

The video also features children's favourites like Bob the Builder, along with characters from Sesame Street and The Muppet Show.

But James Dobson, founder of right-wing Christian group Focus on the Family, singled out SpongeBob at a black-tie dinner in Washington in the run-up to President Bush's inauguration, the New York Times said.

SpongeBob - who appears on the children's cable channel Nickelodeon - is seen as an icon for adult gay men in the US, apparently because he regularly holds hands with his sidekick Patrick.

His creators deny that he is gay, but he is not the first such character to cause controversy.

In 1999 conservatives claimed handbag-carrying Teletubby Tinky Winky, an import from the UK, was a bad role-model.

'Easy lesson'

Nile Rodgers, who wrote the song and is founder of the We Are Family Foundation (WAFF) which released the new video, says it is intended to help teach children the values of co-operation and unity.

"We believe that this is the essential first step to loving thy neighbour," he said. "And the fun and exciting format makes it a lesson that's easy for children to learn."

But conservatives say it sees the video as a cunning attempt to promote homosexuality.

They point to the fact that the WAFF is linked to a pledge being promoted by some liberal groups which includes a recognition of tolerance of sexual identity.

"We see the video as an insidious means by which the organisation is manipulating and potentially brainwashing kids," Paul Batura, a spokesman for Focus on the Family, told the New York Times.

Mr Rodgers said the groups may have confused his foundation with an unrelated organisation with a similar name that supports gay youth.

WAFF spokesman Mark Barondeso told the newspaper that anyone who thought the video promoted homosexuality "needs to visit their doctor and get their medication increased".

-- END OF ARTICLE

OK. W. T. F. What is happening to our country? "...a cunning attempt to promote homosexuality"? You've got to be kidding me. Have you ever seen SpongeBob? What could be more harmless than a SPONGE THAT WEARS PANTS?

And what's this about it being "... a vehicle for pro-gay propaganda" -- ??? When did tolerance and diversity become a BAD thing to teach kids??? Since when does the sight of two children (or sponges, for that matter) holding hands mean the children must be dangerous and deviant homosexuals???

I am totally floored. I have to ask, are the people who spend their days finding things to be up in arms about, the people who think being gay is the worst thing someone can be and that all of American society is heading for Hell, shouldn't they be focusing their energy on some other matters that, I don't know, MATTER? Like the fact that our country is AT WAR, or perhaps those pesky little TSUNAMIS....
Is SpongeBob really that bad? I mean, SERIOUSLY?

Truly terrible

There is a new mom here at work -- I guess she's been back about 3 weeks now -- who has to pump her breastmilk at least twice every day. So there's this whole contraption that looks like a gym bag, and she just stows it in the bathroom on our little bench. No problem.

Well just now, I went in there while she was actually in a stall pumping -- and for one second I really thought I was going to TRIP OVER THE CORD stretching from the wall by the sink into her stall. And I got this horrid mental image of what that would do to a boob...girls, I can't even imagine, but i'm thinking it would be awful.

Well I didn't trip. But I was vewwy, vewwy careful after that. It also sucks (ha) that the only private place to pump around here is the bathroom.... I feel for all new moms, I really do. I would totally offer her my office -- if I didn't have a cube.

The gangs of suburbia

This morning as I backed out of my driveway to head to work, I noticed that directly across the street from my house there was a Cat Drama unfolding. First, I noticed two neighborhood cats, the black one that taunts my kitties and the striped one that has been in my backyard, even my house before (another story, blahblahblah). They were sitting very close to one another, watching the tree. I thought "weird, i've never seen them together, i guess they're buddies" then I noticed there was another kitty sitting by the tree, mid-step, frozen. This was a little grey kitty i've never seen before. He looked like he had just noticed the two cats staring at him, and stopped, petrified and afraid and unsure of what to do next. Because the two cats were staring, but not menacingly. Just curiously. So I observed all that in like 10 seconds, and as my car crept past them, two houses up were TWO DOGS -- two large black dogs, labbish, with collars, and they were trotting towards the Cat Drama. They were smiling. One of them was like "hey, c'mon, let's go kick some cat ass" the other one was like "hold on, we're gonna get in trouble, we're only supposed to pee and go back inside..." I took all this in as I turned the corner, and I really wish I could've stayed and watched the thing play out. But I was late to work (GASP) and couldn't take the time. But as silly as this is going to sound, even though the scene was being set for some kind of Species showdown, I wasn't too worried because I didn't sense any animosity from any of the animals. Maybe it was just a typical day in the neighborhood and usually i'm just running later and don't notice...

I realize now that my poor kitties were probably glued to the front windows, staring longingly at the exotic outside cats. So sheltered. So sad. So deprived. So unloved. So...intact.

Socialization

This morning as I drove to work, I happened to pass the elementary school by my house when the kids were actually outside -- at recess, I guess. (do kids still have "recess" as we knew it? hmmm...). There were tons of kids walking around the track in their little coats. I had to stop at the light, so I had a moment to observe this curious display of child socialization. Because just in the one minute I sat there and watched, I thought I could pick out the kids who will grow up to be more social and outgoing, as well as the troubled-looking kids who might grow up to be my ex-husband. (oops, did I say that out loud??). I don't mean they can't/won't grow and change, but it was just interesting to observe the laughing groups of 2 and 3 little girls, followed by one lone girl walking fast with her head down; then the lone boy wearing oversized clothes, also walking with his head down and kind of kicking the track with each step; and then, two boys walking side by side, one of them gesticulating wildly while the other one nodded in agreement -- I could totally picture them walking home from school together, then climbing around in a treehouse or something.

This made me wonder, why and how does this happen at such a young age? This distinct separation into groups, of perceived social "status", that haunts most of us at least through high school? I changed schools every 4 years until I was in 7th grade because my father was in the Army, so I learned how to make friends quickly, out of necessity. I was very shy, but I could scan any classroom and quickly pick out the "possibles" to approach at lunch or recess. I was also aware that no matter what happened or how much I hated a particular school, when we moved I would get a brand new start and could begin again.

But what about kids who go to the same school all the way through, with the same classmates, from K through 12? Are they just stuck? Is their place defined very early on and they just live with it until they can escape to college or work? I can't even fathom that -- which can be a problem, because as an adult I get bored with things (homes, cities, jobs...boys...) about every 4 years and need to shake things up. But mostly, I'm grateful that I had a chance to live in different places and make different friends.

All this really struck me in that one minute of observation. In an instant I was 8-years-old again, insecure but faking it with a big smile on my face, walking around the playground with another little girl in a different pink coat... was it Diane, who pretended to be Harriet the Spy with me? or Meredith, who I still keep in touch with? maybe it was Lara, who rode horses (much to my jealousy) or Julie, the first girl I knew to get her period. You know, it was all of them, at different times in my life.

To this day, I surround myself with wonderful women, dear, dear friends I cannot imagine not having. They have gotten me through the darkest, toughest times in my life and have laughed with me through the good times. And I am also ultra-fortunate to have a sister whom I adore.

I hope the little girl in the purple coat that I saw this morning trotted forward just a bit and caught up with the group of girls in front of her, after I drove away.

Disdain and loathing in Austin, Texas

I. Loathe. My ex-husband. People close to me, especially those who knew him, understand and empathize because he totally deserves it. It is not a vindictive "I hate my ex" thing, because once we made the decision we literally have not talked or seen each other since then (7 years ago) -- we just wanted it to be over. I do not spend much energy these days thinking of him, much less getting all riled about him, but today ... today he pushed my buttons.

See, he has this website. It's a pathetic shrine to his ego and what he thinks about himself, and that's bad enough -- but it is also a scary portal into his sociopathic soul. On this site, he posts photoshopped pics of himself; lies; exaggerates; and annoys, in all the ways that made me loathe him in the first place. But whatever, right? I just don't look at it. However, he crossed the line today.

On this site, his "I am a bonafide writer" site, he posts stories or chapters that he has written, things he hopes are good enough to get published. I've noticed in the past that he always uses the names of people he knows for his characters. I chalked it up to lack of imagination, but I also know that it's his passive aggressive way of striking out and making someone feel like an ass. Well, my sister, who scans his site more regularly just looking for familiar names, happened upon it today and found that he'd included her in his latest "book" excerpt. In a disrespectful and embarrassing portrayal. And that. Pisses. Me off.

She thinks it's kinda funny in its pathetic-ness, but she also knows if her husband were to find out my ex would get his ass seriously kicked, probably in front of his students (yes, he's a TEACHER who shapes young minds -- it is terrifying). So herein lies the dilemma. I wanted to send him a scathing email, but that would only get me involved with him again and I have no desire to get back on his radar screen in any way. My sister thought about sending him a scathing email, but she has three kids and doesn't really have the time and energy to spend on something that would prove fruitless anyway. Because we both know that the reason he posted it in the first place was to ANNOY. He WANTS to get a reaction, he LOVES stirring the shit. He is a coward, and the only way he knows to nurse his wounded ego is to make up stories about people who make him feel insecure. I already apologized, again, to my sister for bringing such vermin into our lives in the first place. But I tried to correct the mistake! I REALLY did!

So we will probably just keep quiet and do nothing. Hope that he's as much like a child as we suspect, in that if you ignore him he'll go away or give up. But I have to admit -- a part of me REALLY wants to tell my brother-in-law.

For real.

Wile E. Coyote

I know I just recently posted an entry (as in, a couple of hours ago), but I keep mulling over and chuckling about this story I heard today at work. So a bunch of my co-workers had to come in on Sunday to get an ad campaign ready to pitch today. My boss, who we'll call Bob, parked his car in the parking garage, grabbed his laptop and bag and trudged to the entrance of our building. As he described it, he then stepped into a 3-foot-deep hole and busted ass. Apparently, some kids had partied at our building over the weekend (it's sort of secluded), as evidenced by random beer bottles and other trash laying around. These partying, drunk "kids" thought it would be funny to set a trap a la Wile E. Coyote. They removed one of the SEWER GRATES in the center of our parking garage and used the indoor-outdoor carpet from our foyer to cover the 3-foot-deep hole. And Bob stepped in it and hurt his back. And got severely pissed, as anyone would have. For crying out loud, he had to work on the weekend AND he falls into a hole?? I hear the police were dispatched and Columbo took fingerprints off the beer bottles and such -- Bob isn't beyond suing someone's ass off if they figure out who it was -- but they probably won't.

So I know it's not funny, it's horrid. But I can't get the image (that Bob painted for me, actually) of the Roadrunner carefully removing the sewer grate and setting the trap. As my friend Babs said, good thing it wasn't me who stepped in the hole, because no doubt I would have probably broken, not just sprained, something. I don't have a good track record as far as stepping in holes, falling down stairs, bumping into walls...but that's for another time. I'm sincerely glad Bob is okay and it's just another story to add to our workplace lore.

I love my job.

Below the E

Tonight as I climbed into my car to begin my 30-minute commute home, I noticed that dammit, I was still on Empty. I know, I know, the car can't magically fill its own gas tank. But still. I had forgotten during the day, and when I was on my way home I wanted nothing more than to drive straight there. But it was not meant to be.

So as I drove up and down the hilly slopes on the "secret backway" to my house, doing the accelerate/coast routine, no A/C, no radio (does this really help, dad? once you said it did...i still believe...) I called my friend Tamara, who incidentally, has the same car as I do. This has come in handy at times, and today was no exception.

Me: Hi. How far below the E have you gone?
Her: Hi. Way, way below. Probably 10-15 miles below. (baby screeching in the background as she, too, was commuting)
Me: Really? Because I'm right on the E, but not yet below.
Her: Oh, you're fine -- this weekend in Houston we really pushed it, way below the E, and we made it.
Me: Ok, thanks. I'm glad we have the same car.

And so on and so forth.

I stayed on the phone with her, for comfort, until I glided into the gas station parking lot on nothing but faint gasoline fumes. I made it, once again.

And I say to you, everyone should have a friend they can call when they're coasting below the E. I won't go all the way into the metaphor here, I will just say that I count my blessings every day.

Kitty Einstein

I woke up this morning hungry, for the first time in about 5 days – I’ve been sickly, drugged out on cough meds, and haven’t wanted to eat anything. So I was surprised and somewhat pleased that I was hungry today. ANYWAY, before I lost my resolve and went back to sleep, I rolled out of bed, pulled on some jeans, and sleepwalked into my living room, grabbing my purse and my k--- wait. My keys were not where they always are. WTF?? I hadn’t left the house in 2 days—since NY Eve. Nice. My keys could be anywhere. I flipped on the overhead light and started searching in earnest for my keys, even opening the door in a moment of panic that I’d left them hanging in the door for days. They weren’t there. Finally, Piper, my youngest kitty, sort of cleared her throat to get my attention – she had been perched on the lamp table next to my couch, watching while I shuffled around the room looking under papers and Kleenex and other gross stuff. I was like “WHERE ARE MY KEYS???” and with that, she casually batted them off the lamp table and onto the floor in front of me. She then smiled and swished her tail. I swear to God she smiled. It was very deliberate. I stared at her for about 2 seconds, then said “Thank you,” grabbed my keys and left to buy donuts. Yes, donuts. That’s what I wanted after not eating for days. I know, and then I slept all day. But you’re missing the point – my kitty Piper — she’s a genius!

The day after...

So I’m still at my parents’ house. Today was kid-full. Everyone was here from about 1:00 on, and everything was pretty smooth until the last 10 minutes. As Dane was packing up everything the boys brought, the diaper bag, the Xmas toys, random sippie cups, he paused to play with Claytie, who was hanging on his leg. Dane often “rough houses’ with the boys, they love it and have grown up with it, and he has never hurt them – they’re just burly boys, y’know? Anyway, by some timing mistake and shoe impediment, somehow Clayton tripped and fell forward, neatly hitting his forehead HARD on the sharp edge of my parents’ fireplace hearth. The jagged, brick edge. I happened to be sitting right there, and it happened in slo-mo, just like they say. He did not fall far, but it made a juicy cantaloupe sound when it hit, and the fact that he didn’t cry right away because he was in shock was not a good sign. Then everything started moving fast, as I guess they do in crises situations. Dane grabbed him and said ‘it’s bad” as Clayton started to scream, I ran into the kitchen to get ice, my mom was grabbing a towel, Cole was in the middle of everything going “I wanna see where it split, I wanna see the split”, Nicole was nursing Cooper in the back room. I got her, grabbed Cooper, and after 10 more minutes of panicked muddling and my dad, mom, Dane, Nicole, me, all talking over each other trying to figure out where to go and with whom. At one point my mom was going to accompany my sister, but thank goodness somehow my brother took her instead. (He's much more of a "rock" than my mom.)

The rest of us stayed here and waited for about 2 hours – which is relatively quick for an ER visit, especially on Xmas day. Cole was weirded out and scared, very clingy and asking lots of questions about whether his brother was going to be okay. Oddly, even though Nicole hadn’t finished feeding Coop, he was fine – the chicks passed him around all evening, and he even fell asleep in my arms for about 30 minutes (boy, my arm is going to hurt like a mofo tomorrow…). Side note: there is perhaps nothing more peaceful then holding a sleeping baby in your arms. Anyway, me and Dane were sitting in shock like deer in the headlights —I was feeling guilty because I was sitting so close when it happened and couldn’t reach him in time, Dane was feeling guilty because technically he was playing with Claytie when it happened, although it was totally one of those things that just happens when you have 3 rambunctious boys. I could tell he was totally worried about whether Nicole would be “mad”, and I also knew it wouldn’t even enter her mind to be “mad” -- it truly was no one’s fault, and they’re not like that anyway. The time seemed to pass slowly.

Long after the three returned, triumphant, Claytie proudly sporting a glued gash on his forehead (they don’t even use real stitches anymore!), long after they all packed up and left, I have felt edgy and weepy. For the past few hours I just sat in the den with my parents, my dad napping and my mom knitting, watching The Saint on HBO, and the whole time I’m holding back tears. I just feel deeply disturbed about the whole thing. It makes my stomach ache. I can’t put my finger on it – everyone is fine, it really could have been so much worse. Claytie wasn’t even crying by the time they got in the car to go to the ER; I just feel sickly. And I wonder, is this a maternal instinct I might be experiencing?? For the very first time? I don’t know how else to describe the weird panic/calm mode/fear/ache I felt when I saw Clayton’s gaping forehead. It was this wildly protective feeling, and I wanted to just swoop him up and fly him to the nearest hospital. It broke my heart to hear his tears of pain. I don’t think I’ve ever heard those before.

After they all left my mom asked if I was stressed out today – because often too much familial stimulation makes me slightly woozy – and honestly, they didn’t. The whole cracked-head thing just put a real damper on everything (well, duh.). Maybe I’m worried that Clayton is going to have a scar on his beautiful, perfect, creamy forehead? Maybe the panic ER feeling reminded me of my own trips to the hospital? Maybe holding a normally wise-cracking 4-year old as he shook and cried in fear for his brother just brought out that instinct I didn’t know I had. But in any event, tonight I realized for sure, although I had suspected it before, but I knew for sure that my love for my nephews is certainly a maternal type of love, even though they didn’t come from my womb. I know that I would surely dive in front of a car or a bus or a lion in order to protect one of them. And it’s weird to realize that about yourself. So even though I may never be a “real” mom with my “own” kids, I hope I can be a positive influence in their lives, forever, I hope I am a special Auntie Lisa who they will be comfortable with. Who they feel they can talk to as they grow up, maybe like a surrogate mother. An extended family. I never had that in my life; we were always pretty isolated from our cousins/aunts/uncles because my dad was in the army and we moved a lot. I’m glad I’m growing up with the boys. I’m glad I have chosen to stay in Texas for that reason, and tonight I realized it really was a valid reason, a real reason, and not just an excuse for why I haven’t packed up my shit and moved to Europe yet.

Although I have to admit, watching the Saint, all those European scenes, I did get the old Europe yearning going again. I’m DEFINITELY going in 2005. Today marked the 7th year since I met Rocco in Barcelona. And that is too damn long. You only live once – carpe diem, for real.

The magic of the season

Last night I unwillingly went to the mall, AGAIN, in another attempt to finish my Christmas shopping. I had a loose list in my head of what I still needed, but I tend to lose it with oversensory shopping overload -- once I get INTO the mall, I promptly forget why I'm there. So I wander around, and eventually little glimmers of purpose come back to me. But it sometimes takes a while. So after I'd been wandering about an hour, and had even managed to buy some stuff, I was in phase 2 of my aimless wandering when I ran into my friend Anita, coming out of The Limited. This was kind of funny because before I had left work, I had moaned to her how I had to go to the mall, and she was saying she thought she could avoid it. So here we were an hour later, in the large thriving metropolis of Austin, during the craziest time of the year to even be at the mall, bumping into each other outside the Limited. We were glad and somewhat relieved to see each other. She had actually called my cell phone, but I hadn't heard it in the din of Xmas joy at Barton Creek mall. We quickly agreed to go eat somewhere (drink wine) before continuing the hellish conquest.

We had a nice dinner (and wine) and chatted, and I was feeling a lot better (with the wine) about being at the mall. It's always nice to be with a friend in these stressful situations. And to drink wine. So as we prepared to continue the hunt, I was expressing how I'd like to find that store Brookstone -- the Sharper Image knockoff. I wanted to see if they had something cool for my dad. Anita and I wandered like champs, stopping at two different mall maps and realizing there wasn't a Brookstone at this mall, dammit. So we switched missions and went to Pottery Barn for some other stuff. As we emerged from the comfy depths of Pottery Barn, with visions of hip rugs and silky curtains swirling in our heads, I looked up and my breath caught in my throat. I grabbed Anita's arm and choked out "OH MY GOD-- LOOK." And there we stood, in the glow of the Brookstone that happened to be DIRECTLY ACROSS THE WAY from the Pottery Barn. I swear it hadn't been there when we went in. We were both awestruck. Anita, without skipping a beat, said in serious awe, "It's a Christmas Miracle."

And so it was.

Moving furniture

So yesterday, in a heroic effort of last-minute Christmas-shopping procrastination, I decided to rearrange my bedroom. I've been thinking about doing this for years, but it's quite a feat for single me to move my heavy stuff. I guess maybe I thought I'd have a boyfriend to help out by now. HA. Plus i'm just plain lazy. I had to start by picking up all the crap off the floor. This took about an hour. The offending objects included a broken VCR, an empty bag of cough drops, and a couple of dishes, just to give you an idea of the carnage. At least one whole cat had disintegrated under my bed, judging from the size of the fur ball I pulled out. So that was step 1.

Step 2 was to get the little furniture out. Well even my little furniture is heavy -- my bedside table contains every book i've ever read as well as my awe-inspiring lotion collection and other odds and ends. And to pause to remove the drawers? So passe. By now, the steps all blurred together. Once the small stuff was out, I started trying to maneuver my dresser. This proved impossible. Even using my entire body weight, with my legs pushing from the wall, it didn't even budge. I did have to remove some drawers from this in order to move it. I won't bore you with all the details, but let's just say it took a couple of hours (including time for me to lie on the floor and pant) to get the big furniture shifted almost into position.

I say "almost" because I had a brilliant idea towards the end of the big shuffle. I'd always wanted a reading chair in my bedroom -- why didn't I take this opportunity to move my big puffy chair, the one taking up a huge space in the living room, why didn't I move that into my bedroom? Just throw it in there with all the other furniture? Perhaps by a window? The next hour was me taking off all the cushions and then shoving it, on one arm, across the living room, kitchen, and eventually into the bedroom doorway. Where it became stuck. With me in between the doorway and the chair. For several death-defying and worrisome moments. Eventually I worked my way out, and this was one of the few times i've been grateful that I'm squishy. So once I was removed from the mix, it only took another 20 minutes or so of shoving, cussing, and marking up the wall, before I got the chair into my room. And realized it wouldn't fit where I wanted it to go. Did I measure, you ask?? Hell no -- measuring is for amateurs.

I eventually found a space for it, and while l'm still not sure I like it there, i'm sure as hell not ready to move it back OUT of the room anytime soon. By now it was dark. I had successfully avoided going to the mall for one more day. Last night, as I cozied up in my bed in its new position by a window, as I stroked the cats that flanked me on both sides, I thought to myself, I'm a Strong, Independent Woman, and Life is Good.

And damn, I'm going to hurt tomorrow.

The aftermath of the Christmas Party

My company Christmas party was actually last weekend, but I've been pondering it all week long. It was at one of the company's partner's houses, very fancy, very new, and rather nerve-wracking. We were all in our best clothes, on our best behaviour, trying desperately not to spill red wine on the white carpet. To the best of my knowledge, no one did. I, however, had eaten very little and had a couple glasses of wine, so when I headed home I was not drunk, but very very sleepy -- that's what wine does to me. Very sexy, I know. If anyone has been thinking of seducing me with a bottle of wine, well STOP RIGHT THERE -- not the best strategy. Anyway, I got all gussied up in my black girdle and all. All night I couldn't wait to peel the thing back off. So when I walked in my front door at 11pm, I headed straight for my couch and sank into its downy loveliness. And there I stayed until 6:30am Saturday morning, when I awoke to cat whiskers/lips gently nuzzling my face. I opened my eyes, and Jess, all 21 pounds of him, was sitting on my belly and staring into my eyes, willing me to wake up and top off the food dish. The first thing I realized was, wow, I slept in all my makeup and all my clothes. Then, wow, Jess usually hurts my innards when he sits on my tummy like that, why can't I feel him? Then the dawning of understanding: I couldn't feel him because I HAD SLEPT IN MY GIRDLE and my entire abdominal area was numb. That, and the tight stretchy black fabric brutally holding in my fat had formed a rather trampoline-like surface for him, and he was enjoying the unusual springiness of my belly until i knocked him off and sat up, gasping for breath.

I peeled off the girdle but it took about 10 minutes for me to feel my guts again, and even longer for the dents of the seams to puff back up from my delicate white skin... guess i'll retire the black girdle until the next Christmas party or unexpected hot date.

Crash.

Yesterday was the first day in over a week that I went straight home. That is, I had no plans to stop at any shopping establishment, bar, restaurant, or anyone else's house. I was about 2 miles from my house when everything went horribly awry. I was driving behind this big, white delivery-type truck. I was in "the zone" -- you know, when you're almost home, you're picturing yourself on your couch, in your sweats, watching Law & Order... Anyway, I was rudely snapped out of "the zone" when this truck just drifted over to the right and HIT this parked car -- so hard that the parked car bounced up in the air and came down partways on the curb. While I was recovering/processing that, becuase this all happened very fast you see, the truck then itself bounced up over the curb and ran through one front yard, over a bush, and into this giant tree. The tree was large and the truck sort of crumpled around it; the whole cab was split in half and smooshed.

I pulled over, and by now I was in going into shock-mode. I called 911 and they were like "where EXACTLY are you on Slaughter" and I was like "I don't know because i've been in "the zone" for the last few minutes." Anyway, it was a mess. The guy seemed to be alright -- by the time I moved my car out of the way and walked over to the scene (the police said I should stay around since I witnessed it) he was out of the truck and wandering around the front yard of this old lady standing in her doorway staring at the tree with a truck through it. He looked very out-of-it to me. He was grinning, almost sheepish -- and I'm thinking, sheepish is inappropriate for the amount of damage and stress he just caused. There were pieces parts of car/truck all over the sidewalk, street, front yard; there was broken glass; and there was that smell. That acrid car wreck smell, of burning plastic/rubber/who knows. And that is the smell that took me back to my own car wreck last year. I must have been completely in automatic mode because it's all kind of blurry here. I'm not sure long i was there, but when I finallly talked to the police and got in my car to leave, I couldn't believe how bad I was shaking. And then the sobbing started. It was SO WEIRD. But I was freaking out, and it wasn't because of some stupid truck driver who dozed off or whatever, it was because I was totally, in that moment, back at my own crash site. Only at my crash site, there were GIANT pieces of car and truck. A bumper here. The engine over there. Oh yeah, that's the hood bent back over the roof of the car. Would that be a tire over there? And mostly, the awful smell. And the dead feeling, the feeling of being in shock. Of watching it all from outside my body. Of watching myself become hysterical, crying, walking around in piles of fire ants, unable to calm down; watching and thinking "damn, i must be in shock, this is totally irrational". Of not feeling any pain yet because of the incredible adrenaline charge. I flashed back to that place, and it wasn't pretty.

I made a quick grounding phone call to my friend Hope before I drove myself home, verrrrry slowly. She was wonderful and kind, said the right things to calm me. When I got home I felt, physically, like I'd been through the wringer, my body was totally exhausted and I was still shaking. I went to bed early and of course feel much better today.

But I remain amazed at the power of our minds, our memories, what we store. How a smell can trigger such a violent response. How I will never forget that moment when I opened my eyes after being knocked out in my collision; I felt like you feel after anesthesia; not sleepy, just awake, and totally clueless as to day, time, place. And in this case, the smell brought me to reality first. The smoke wafting up out of my deployed airbag. My arms were pinned to my sides and my chin was resting on top of the airbag, in fact. And everything was dark, because my black hood was curled up over the windshield. I remember being achy and feeling/hearing a loud buzzing in my head. This whole realization part probably lasted one second, and the next thing I remember is looking curiously out of the passenger window where there was a man (the other driver) standing there calling to me, asking if i was alright, me trying to respond but only being able to croak "I don't know" and then realizing there was no glass in the window. How odd. But I think the shock really set in when I climbed out of the car, barefoot because the impact had literally knocked my socks off, unable to see because my glasses were somewhere in the backseat amongst the glass, when I stepped away from the car and really SAW it and realized how lucky I was to be alive.

I hope the man in the truck accident last night has that same realization and that he gains the same insight, peace, and sense of curious calm I had when I realized I was left alive for a PURPOSE. I don't know what it is yet, as I haven't done anything particularly remarkable since my wreck, but I know there's a reason and it must be pretty darn important. I hope he remembers the concerned lady in the jeans and black sweater asking if he was alright, as I remember the first responders to my accident -- a couple who was just leaving their driveway in time to see/hear the whole thing. I remember them, and all the people who subsequently helped me that day, as angels. I don't need to be considered an angel, I just hope I had some positive effect on this guy. I hope he didn't find out hours later, after walking around on his own, that he had a broken leg or a blood clot. I hope he was really as he seemed, just fine.

It's been almost two years, but I am just fine too.