Memory Lane

Warning: this post is made under the influence of several home made Lemon Drops. These lemon drops were quite the hit at family camp a few weeks back. This is not the original recipe which calls for Meyer Lemons. Nope, the Meyer lemon tree hasn't produced enough yet this year to make it so. This recipe is with the ones that you get from just about any super.

Wonelle's Lemon Drops

Mix over ice:
1 Cup Freshly squeezed lemon Juice
1 Cup Vodka
1/2 Cup Triple Sec
1/2 Cup Simple Syrup (recipe follows)
Strain into Martini Glasses (if you've got it in you - rimmed with colored sugar)

Simple Syrup
4 Cups Evaporated Cane Juice Sugar
4 Cups Water

Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a low simmer until sugar granules liquefy.

As I mentioned in a previous post, my family has purchased a house together. What I failed to mention is that it's in the city where I grew up. They stayed there. I got out as soon as I could. They're moving and need to be out of their respective homes this week, the 31st.

I've been trying to assist Sister # 1 (the one with Husband and 2 kids) with childcare duty. It has been disastrous. I've been able to sit on the little one (the older one is 15) for a total of about 2 hours. It's not for the lack of trying though. It seems my child is on a completely different nap schedule than hers. As soon as I can watch her kid, mine is sleeping or vice versa. I somehow doubt that intention gains the same amount or type of positive thoughts as actually following through. In my heart of hearts I want to say "Whatever!" but I don't. I hear the brow beating in my own head. It's just as good as being there.

Sister #2 with one kid hasn't talked to me at all about needing help, etc. And to be fair, neither has sister #1. But hey, I'm bitching here. My Mom hasn't either. She's just a wreck. Can't make a decision about paint, flooring vs. carpet, etc. to save her life. Planning isn't even an option. I swear their brains just don't consider the lives of other people- or that talking is necessary to get things done. No phone calls, no discussion about what they need - or want - in terms of help from my family. It's frustrating to no end. So Wood works his arse off for the last two weekends helping out while I'm 100% responsible for Twig and feel like I'm getting a beating (behind my back of course) because I can't drop everything and help. Yeah, I do feel a bit guilty. It's my own shit...

My plan for today was to take Twig out in the morning, get a nap and then gather both him and my nephew for a park-playdate. Well, my playdate fell through (no biggie) and just as Twig fell asleep for his nap in the car, nephew was nowhere near going down. We don't fight Twig for naps at home anymore - it's just not worth it. If he happens to fall asleep in the car, Great! If not, Great! Usuallly though, he falls asleep in the car. Today he needed a little extra sleep and since I was trying to do good and was already there trying to do good, I drove through the town where I grew up. In case you don't know this - the town that I grew up in is The Town that I really, really don't like. The town that I would have absolutely no reason to visit if it weren't for the fact that my family lives there.

So, in order to give my child what he needed, I drove around The Town. And remembered.

...The house of my grade school best friend and that of many other grade-schoolmates...The Jews, the Scientists, Fat Southerners, Adopted Mexicans, Mormans,the Asian Kid with only a Dad and a Van, and the Outcasts (not to mention the school itself)...

And wondered what they are doing now.

...The house that I lived in until I was in High School - and the people that lived next door (on either side), the several folks on the street and the creek I would wander in for hours at a time. It's amazing to me these people that kept me sane while I grew up, and how amazingly thankful I am to those people for keeping me safe and influencing, in such a positive way, who I am today...

And wished that I could remember more names or faces.

...The neighborhoods that I rode my bike in for hours and hours at a time before High School - and the names that I gave the homes that we visited - Disneyland, the Seven Seas, Rock Garden, and goodness only knows what else - just because of their landscaping, Koi Ponds, and other decor...

And wished that I hadn't had to rely on imagination to take me away until I could go away. But counted my blessings for having had such an imagination to keep me busy.

...A friend whose dad was in his 90's when we were in our teens. They lived in a shack amongst mansions of their time. He owned the house and the land and refused to make updates despite his daughter's pleading. She lives there now. As I drove by, I heard the sound of happy children coming from her house, and saw very little indication of modernization...

And was glad that she had that place to be. Her Dad loved her to pieces and it showed.

...The neighborhood that I walked through, drunk and high on who-knows-what, in my skin tight dittos and come-fuck-me-Candies in the middle of the night, after probably having sex (or at least thinking I wanted to) with someone whom I'd probably never met before, and making it home in one piece...

And thinking that the God that I question whether or not I believe in, kept me safe for a reason, and how thankful I am for that.

...The man for whom I baby-sat when I was in High School. He was a divorced but relatively functional alcoholic sharing custody of his 18 month old (who is, in retrospect more than 20 years old now). Who lived across the street from my High School Math teacher - the only one I ever had that could explain it in a way that I actually understood it. And who thought enough of me (despite knowing about my messed up family) to hire me to babysit his kids too...

And remembered that people are good and kind, and are given to you to help you and remind you of what could be - in their own way.

...The house where my best friend and her now Husband of almost 20 years lived for a hot minute - where I acquired a taste for red wine and the exact location of a middle of the night fight with my boyfriend that resolved absolutely nothing...

...And the home of his friend, who wanted to be my boyfriend, because my boyfriend was such an ass toward me, and didn't deserve me, and would never do right by me...

And thought of how those experiences helped me to make the right choices and led me to where I am now.

...And the toy store, and the falafel house, and the time I got hauled in for stealing, and, and...

...and how I hate to go there and remember all of those things. But how important those memories are to who I am now.

Excuse me, I want another Lemon Drop.

A Touch of Buyers Remorse

Finally chopped off my hair. It's noticeably uneven. My sister is my stylist.

Went on vacation a couple of weeks ago. It wasn't as fabulous as others advertised it to be.

Gave up coffee.

Eating better.

Exercising daily. It's painful.

Have just as much stress as ever:

•     My mother, sister #1 with a husband and two children, and sister #2 with 1 child bought a house and are moving in together. They are making major changes and updates before moving in. I can't just help out with moving and such like I once did. I watch the little ones instead. It doesn't feel productive.
•     Twig has been crying at daycare when I drop him off and saying "I don't want to go to school, I don't want to let you go, Mommy". He's being rather willfull about potty training.
  
•     Sex is something I think about but hasn't happened in what seems like forever. 
  
•     I want to go out on a Date with my Husband but our babysitter is moving and making major changes to her new house...
  

The Doctor called me about my Test Results.

The beauty of it is that it's all okay!

Hair grows back. And it's just going to take a minute or two to get used to it. I could get a new stylist. It might make life easier in some ways...

I'll take many more vacations in my lifetime. Besides this vacation wasn't about me. It was about my kid. We did some cool stuff, like take a 1 mile hike in the mountains together.

There's always Decaf. And it's a reasonable alternative - occasionally.

It's a lot cheaper to eat Vegan, or at least vegetarian, than it is to eat meat daily. I need to remember that Junk food and Chocolate is a treat!

Sweating feels good and makes me feel stronger deep down in my soul. I LOVE Kick Boxing because when I do it, know that I could kick someone's ass! I like to walk and my clothes are fitting better. Someday soon I'll wear that Liz Caliborne dress that 's been hanging in my closet for years. Pain is necessary to achieve results, especially when it comes to exercise and weight loss.

Stress is transient.

• The move will be finished soon. Then the real drama will start but I'm planning my strategy on how to stay out of it now.
• Twig's teacher that he struggles with on occasion heard me loud and clear when I told her to do it my way and at his pace. He's not crying and telling me not to leave today. We're looking around at other preschools. To know what our options are. And we're trying to be objective about the issues at hand. Potty training will be over someday. Besides, all kids have accidents. Period.
• Maybe we'll just have to use Sesame Street as our babysitter in order to get a little bit of one on one grown-up time...
• The move will be over soon. And it's the perfect opportunity to get Hubbie to think about the fact that he can help with finding a sitter, too!
  

Got my medical test results. I'm not going to have a heart attack any time soon (whew!) but the 24 Hour EKG showed that I'm having irregular heart beats at least twice an hour.

The beauty of it is that it's all okay!

The dizzies - they're all gone and the Doctor said it may be because I quit coffee and made some other dietary changes.

The irregular heart beats are not medically problematic at this time. But, the Doctor made me promise that I'd go in immediately if I noticed any changes or other symptoms. If the dizzies or other symptoms show up or the irregular beats last for 30 seconds at a time, absolutely, I will get in to see her. I'll monitor the heartburn and call if it doesn't subside in a week or two.

I can make positive changes in my life. Yeah, it's harder than ever, but it is possible. About that I am not remorseful. About that I feel good.

Bush's Never Ending War

I'd love to write about many things happening in my life these days. But my life and work have been really busy. Today when I needed a minute of down time, I stumbled upon this...



This is the Link to the Movie's Web Site about Bush's Never Ending War

So far, my health is fine. I have no apparent blood problems and/or heart problems. However, I need to follow up with my health care professional. The dizzies are not gone.

I was referred to a heart specialist for a "stress test". This consists of having an ultrasound of the heart before exercise, then walking on a treadmill (they increase speed and incline every three minutes) all the while connected to EKG machine and having your blood pressure taken every three minutes. The goal is to get your heart to target (mine would be 165-175 based on my age and overweight) and exercise for at least 15-20 minutes. When the treadmill part is complete, they do another EKG to determine if the heart is beating properly, circulating properly, etc. If everything is okay, they assume that there are not bigger underlying issues.

I only lasted 12 minutes on the treadmill! I couldn't keep up with the machine, what with all that gasping for air and holding on for dear life! What a weakling - I was completely embarrassed (especially since they kept asking "do you exercise regularly?" and I had to answer honestly, "no".)! And because, once upon a time I was able to exercise at my target heart rate for an hour or more every day and enjoyed the feeling of pushing my body to the limit!

They did notice some irregular heart beats while I was resting. They tell me that this is nothing to be worried about. They also tell me that preliminarily the stress test showed that my heart is fine (yay!). The 24hr EKG, called a Holter test, when it's read, may state something about the irregularities of the beating of my heart. That's the only test that is pending at this time.

This entire ordeal has given me quite a scare. Heart disease runs in the family and I've got a few of the risk factors (weight gain, less than impeccable diet, alcohol consumption, no real exercise to speak of, stress, bad sleep, etc.). So, even with no "diagnosis" I made some life changes (and so did my family by default).

I quit coffee. I'm doing everything I can to give up my sugar, candy, chocolate addiction. I've been eating vegetarian although the goal is vegan whenever possible (and no, I'm not giving up meat, etc. entirely just making more conscious choices about what and how much I eat). And I'm figuring out how to get some more exercise in. I'll be starting back at the Gym very soon - cardio-kick boxing classes at the Y - and two of my co-workers and I have made a pact to walk together at lunch time at least three days each week.

With the lifestyle changes, my sleep has been somewhat better. That almost three year old of ours is having his own sleep issues that severely impact my ability to consistently rest well. But, I've noticed a big difference in quality of sleep when I do get it.

Despite a week-long case of the stomach flu, my body loves the whole grains, vegetables, and fruit every day. The challenge of finding new and exciting recipes is keeping me on my toes. Of course we need to buy fresh fruits and veggies every few days, but it's much cheaper. And, I think that a few pounds may have shed themselves already!

I look forward to getting to the Gym again. I have been missing that outlet for a long, long time. It's just been hard (almost impossible) to fit it in with all of my family responsibilities. But finding the time at work has been excellent. It feels good to get out of the office in the middle of the day, get some sun, social time, and a little sweat too.

The dizzies have improved a fair amount but they aren't entirely gone. They come and go at the strangest times. Sitting at my desk, driving in the car, watching television, laying down in bed.

I need to make an appointment with my doctor (and the eye doctor) to follow up on the dizzies and the test results but I'm feeling apprehensive about it. I don't want to talk about mental health issues: stress, anxiety, and medication as the other alternatives to what I'm experiencing. I don't want extreme medical diagnoses either, but I'm uncomfortable with drugs in general in relationship to treating ailments. I want to know what the root cause(s) is so that I can treat the real problem. Not just the symptoms.

After we get back from vacation. I'll think about it while we're on vacation next week and make the appointment when we get back from vacation.

Until the next time I can write...

Light Headed Tired and No Time On My Hands

Greetings friends. So sorry it's been a while. I've been busy working, traveling while working, potty training, single parenting (while Hubbie is working extra shifts) and generally burning the candle at both ends.

After about two weeks of periodic dizziness for no apparent reason, I called my primary care physician and asked for an appointment. With some questioning the fabulous Patty who answers the phone at the Doctor's office checked availability and got me in to see a Doc a mere 45 minutes later.

The woman I saw was great - part physician part psychotherapist - she asked relevant questions that I'm not used to Doc's asking: Have you ever had panic attacks before? (no) What did you eat for breakfast? (I often skip or have cereal and eat at the office around 9) How much sleep do you get? (not nearly enough - I have a two year old) What do you do for a living (Social Work), is there much stress in your life (did I mention the two year old - the potty training two year old?), How much coffee do you drink (one 10oz cup per day), how much refined sugar do you eat (about 3 teaspoons per day in my coffee), candy (that mid afternoon snack you mentioned - this is usually it - snickers)? Pastries (lets see, three meetings a week, all public, with pastries...yes, too many pastries) any heart disease in your family (yeah, my dead dad who had his first heart bypass in his late 40's and died in his early 60's)...

Okay, so I've never had panic attacks before but this doesn't feel like panic. Maybe a little bit of stress. But not entirely. It feels like my body isn't right. My head is kinda light all of the time. Sometimes to the point that I feel like I'm going to pass out - when I'm sitting in front of my computer. And don't even get me started about how I feel when I climb those three flights of stairs to my office in the morning - like I'm going to hyperventilate because I'm so winded.

I had an EKG which showed a slightly decreased heart rate and was told 1) to quit caffiene 2) to eat protein (especially before I leave the house in the morning) 3) to have blood tests, a longer EKG, and stress test. And if all of that comes back negative, to consider discussions with my regular doctor about anti-anxiety medication. To which I responded that I am anti-medicine.

And yes, I think the stress is caused in part by not being able to write and post to my blog. It's kinda funny that Hubbie spends his free time lately at home on his computer - in the way he says he doesn't like me to be with screen. I pointed it out to him last night but he didn't listen. Just smiled and kept typing away. That's what I call a double standard. And it's nothing like eating chocolate for breakfast in front of your kid. It's way worse.

Music

I am a Morphine addict. No not the drug - Mark Sandman's Band.

Yes it's his real name. His music and lyrics are amazing - funny, witty, and sad at times, but he did things with certain words that is pretty darned impressive - especially when set next to the band's signature low bass, sax & heavy drum beat (often referred to as low rock).

If you like rock at all, I'd suggest a listen or two. Start with the Album "Good" and follow the chronology to get the full effect (check out the lyrics here). I wish I knew how to embed music (or photos or music that's not from You Tube) into this here blog. If anyone who reads can help with this, please leave a comment!

This is one of my favorites - hell everything Morphine did is one of my favorites:

I'm Free Now

I'm free now to direct a movie
Sing a song or write a book about yours truly
How I'm so interesting I'm so great I'm really just a fuck-up
And It's such a waste to burn down these wall around me
Flexing like a heartbeat we don't like to speak
Don't talk to me for about a week I'm sorry it just hurts to explain
There's something going on that makes my guts ache
I got guilt I got fear I got regret
I'm just a panic stricken waste I'm such a jerk
I was honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Is ever cause you pain
Oh
I'm free now
Free to look out the window
Free to live my story
Free to sing along
Oh (x4)
I'm free now to direct a movie
Sing a song or write a book about yours truly
How I'm so interesting I'm so great but I'm really just a fuck-up
It's such a waste to burn down these wall around me
Flexing like a heartbeat we don't like to speak
Don't talk to me for about a week I'm sorry it just hurts to explain
There's something going on that makes my guts ache inside
I got guilt I got fear I got regret
I'm just a panic stricken waste I'm such a jerk
I was honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Honest I swear the last thing I want to do
Is ever cause you pain
Oh (x2)

Here's a Reality Show I'd Watch...

THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
 
There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of "pretend" bills with not enough money. In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.

Each man must take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment. He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care (weekend, evening, on a holiday or right when they're about to leave for vacation). He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable inside and out, at all times.

The men will have access to television only when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.
 

Each father will be required to know all of the words to every stupid song that comes on TV and the name of each and every character on cartoons.

Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a tortilla and one marker; and get a 4 year old to eat a serving of peas.

Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep their nails polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try to get through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on their clothing.

During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties. They must try to explain what a tampon is for when the 6-yr old boy finds it in the purse.

They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

He will need to read a book to the children each night without falling asleep.

He will need to feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair each morning by 7:00. They must leave the home with no food on their face or clothes.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.

They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m. And then spend the remainder of the day tending to that child and waiting on them hand and foot until they are better.

They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to, "You're not the boss of me".

Oh yeah, and work a full-time job.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

Hallmark Card

Someday, he'll be a big-time movie star

or a Fifth-grade English teacher.

Someday, he'll marry, have a few kids.

Maybe he won't.

Someday, he'll change the world as we know it.

Or maybe he'll travel, send postcards from China,

phone you from Paris.

Someday, he's going to be a big,

strong man able to carry you in his arms.

One day, he'll have his own hopes and dreams,

not knowing

that once upon a time you closed your eyes

and made a wish to one day

have him in your life.

Postpartum Depression

Dunamas Communications is host to Pauline Dillard, a woman interested in postpartum depression. While never diagnosed by a treating professional, I was severely depressed after the birth of my son (and for a long time too). The results of this particular study is important because I was invited to participate. However, I was so depressed I couldn't get around to doing the questionnaire. That and the risk factors, even if preliminary, describe me to a tee.

The top 4 common risk factors for postpartum depression [of the Dillard study]were:

* A family history of mental disorder of any kind (Bi-Polar Dad, Depressed Mom)
* A history of trauma (of one sort or another)
* Dissatisfaction with birth experience (but not the outcome)
* A perfectionistic approach to life(I admit that I'm a Type A personality)

Paula asks about retrospect. What would have been helpful? The short answer is that I don't know for sure but I think that other people talking to me about their presumptions - despite the discomfort - would have helped (you know, no secrecy). My other thoughts on the subject have been being rattled around in my brain for quite a while now. The long answer continues to be less than cohesive and as a result, unpublished. Someday.

Sponge

----- Forwarded Message ----

From: Wonelle
To: Wood
Sent: Friday, May 18, 2007 10:16:08 AM
Subject: ?

Wood - Please take a deep breath and do not take this what I am about to report to you and/or bring up as a personal attack, criticism, or anything else negative. Take it as food for thought, reflection, and as necessary, action. Please remember that we are in this together - we're a team of three now.

Teacher told me about [Twig and] the lollipop issue this morning. She in fact did take his lollipop and throw it away yesterday afternoon. It had to do with behavior again and by behavior she means his general disposition. On his bad days (and they are not constant) he does not listen to the teachers, he hits pushes, kicks, and refuses to share with the other kids, and reacts to most interactions (someone accidentally bumping in to him, requests from other kids to to play, direction from adults) extremely swiftly, very strongly, and with an intense rage that she said she has not really seen in other children before.

This is normal child-like behavior. This is what kids do. However, when she explained to me the specifics of Twig's behavior (especially yesterday's) the way that you and I have been interacting for some time now, flashed before me. I could see him doing it and it reminded me of how we Bicker (Merriam Webster defines Bicker as petulant quarreling) - when we talk we both are quick to respond, we each do so with tone (not humorous), the conversation is often labored, usually intense, and many times angry. Even if it is not meant to be any of those things or if we each do not feel any of those things, that is how Twig is interpreting our interactions. He's taking it all in, processing it in his two year old minds eye, and giving back what he sees as the appropriate way that people respond to and interact with one another.

He is all of those things because he's of us, with us, and programmed (as all children are) to become like us. This is not new information. And neither is the fact that we've been struggling with our own behavior issues in our individual, couple, and parenting lives for a while now. Please shake off that 'I'm such a horrible parent, awful person, bad husband' feeling. Just stop. NOW. You are a good parent, a great person, and a fabulous husband. You are smart, hardworking, loyal, overworked, overburdened, intense, and loved by Twig and me more than you could ever imagine.

Honey, this is a subject I just wanted to bring to our attention for continued pondering. Please don't fret too much on this. It is one of those things that is going to plague us for the rest of our lives - at least for the rest of our lives as parents. Maybe it's even a talking point. Nonetheless, an issue that we both need to consider. We owe it to ourselves, and to our son, to at least try to figure out how to appropriately and effectively adapt our behavior for the betterment of his - now and always.

I love you.

Wonelle

Addict

The Husband has left for work and the kid is sleeping. The 17 year old beast that has been INCESSANTLY howling as if she were in heat all night - ALL NIGHT - is still at it. There are things that I must do to ensure a seamles and on-time transition from home to daycare to school this morning. However, the computer has been calling my name for days and days and days. Ever since I wrote about my 10 Minute Hall Pass yesterday, I can't get the possible sentences to stop prancing along the place in my mind where imagine things that could have, would have, or should have been. It's kinda scary, this need, this urge, this desire to write. And here I am, after saying I wouldn't, writing in secrecy. Just like a junkie.

10 Minute Hall Pass

We're ready to walk out the front door to begin our day, just like any other weekday. Except that it's 6:30am and we don't normally leave the house until 7:40am. Hmmm, I wonder how safe it is to broadcast on this here blog what time I leave the house to spend more than 8 hours away - hey there's no address posted anywhere here...

Why are we ready to walk out the door at 6:30am? Twig was awake this morning before the 5am alarm and when it chimed at 5:00 it merely ensured that there would be no more sleeping. Wood was gracious enough to let me adjust my attitude about the unwanted early rising time - alone, in bed - before he left the house.

Besides the fact that I married such a fabulous man, the silver lining is that I am Writing. Okay, you're right, I'm actually Blogging. But hey, it's been more than a week of using an old-fashioned ink pen to write simple notes to pre-school teachers and a few birthday/mothers day cards. All I've been using the computer for is the most mundane of activities - composing billing related emails to contractors or spelling out policies and procedures for my staff of 7. Not terribly exciting activities.

I do miss writing about the day to day activities of my household and the things and ways that my brain chooses to process them. Between work, a litany of family birthdays, Mother's day, and preparing for Wood leaving for this coming weekend, it's been kinda hectic around here. But it's been really good too.

Perhaps it's the lack of quality time spent with Keyboard and Flatscreen as of late that's been helpful. To Wood's surprise - and pleasure - several times this week when I was faced with choosing between writing, watching television, or some other quiet alone time activity, I chose the brain sucker.

I don't really know what's making things better but he's happier and by default, so am I. I don't entirely care what it is. What I do know and care about is that life has been pretty damned good here lately. I want it to stay this way.

See you again when I can.

Dennis Leary - I'm an Asshole (Uncensored)

Hiatus

My blogging is causing a rift. A huge, resentful, horrible rift.

It's not new information. But this is: whenever I sit at the computer, I am then an absent parent who lives on another planet, disinterested in her family and the goings on around her.

Writing in secrecy is not feasable. Until hubbie and I can work it out, I must take some time off.

The Reality Is...

Way back in 2000, I asked a friend from college to whom I had been quite close and active with in political matters to be a personal reference. He had this to say about my request:

I will do as you ask.

I could never refuse you.

Although if they ask me about [you] I will be truthful.

You are a disobedient wench who refuses to submit to the perverted whims of her master (as Vice Chair, you should have given in to my unrelenting demands for sexual favors).

You have the patience of a drunken sailor fresh from the brig released into a whorehouse on freebie night.

You are as dainty and charming as Torquemada the Grand Inquisitor of the Spanish Inquisition.

But, I will add that you will support anyone you believe in until the end of the world, and you are kind of cute.

Miss you.

When I first read the email, I laughed out loud and thought "HA! That shit is hilarious!" And I can see you - you're laughing too, holding your gut, shaking your head, saying "yes, yes!"

The personality traits this friend describes are ones that I have always struggled with. Actually, I don't remember a time when I wasn't confronting or attempting to temper these parts of myself. And I can count on my left hand the number of people that I've known in my lifetime who openly appreciate - even revel in - my unwillingness to be quiet and demure merely for the sake of convention. On the surface I look and even act a bit conservative and pedestrian, but I'm actually pretty liberal and quite loyal. They're strengths and weaknesses all wrapped up into one big complicated package.

You're shaking your head, agreeing out loud again...

Beginners Mind Part II

I wrote yesterday's post, Beginner's Mind, in about 10 minutes. I should have been driving Twig to Pre-School but the past couple of days have been extra, extra difficult to manage. I hit publish with a very cursory review of the words, only to ensure that basic sentence structure was correct and that the concepts weren't too confused.

A friend read the post and called to talk. During the work day and in-between meetings I sobbed on the phone to her: there is nothing in particular that's bothering me, it's everything. The entire family is in a bit of a crisis. On many occasions I can practice 'right mind'. But other times it's not so easy. We didn't get to talk for very long and the call was ended rather abruptly, considering the degree of emotion and the topic at hand.

It is disconcerting, this heavy pain, confusion, and isolation that I describe.

When I had a few moments alone before bed, I re-read the post.

Since then, I've been wondering:

Do my words, either written or spoken lead you to believe that the edge has become so close to me - that one day writing the blog or talking on the phone through the tears won't release enough of the pressure - that I will act in ways to ensure that things fall apart, broken, irreparable?

Do my words make me like my dead bi-polar father who refused to treat his disease? Am I refusing to see that I have a problem? If so, why? Because I don't want to be like my clinically depressed mother, who in my opinion, took (or takes?) antidepressants to manage deplorable situations?

Am I even slightly like my father and/or mother? I've always thought not. Maybe I'm wrong.

Am I depressed? Periodically, yes. Consistently and severely or intermittently and mildly? I don't know. Some degree of depression is normal right?

Do I need some form of formal treatment? Or am I just overly dramatic?

Feline Babies, Part 1

Little Foot the grey Tuxedo cat with a white belly and boots was born feral. He was found when he was probably only a few days old, near dead with his litter mates, sans mama. Some animal loving humans took him in, fed him with a bottle and gave him a chance to live.

His little Tuxedo yanked at my heart the moment I saw him in the pet store. Even though I knew the tugging was probably the pain of having just lost my Ms. Kitty to Radiator Fluid, I couldn't help but take him home to the first apartment where I lived alone, a converted garage behind a house in Hayward.

As soon as we got home he became Mr. Kitty. One of his nick names was "Little Lion". His legs were bowed and the way his body moved reminded me of a Lion on the savanna. He answered to just about anything that I called him though: Bub, Bubby Boy, Big Boy (because even after he was neutered he had the biggest balls!), Mama's Boy, Hunny Bunny Bubby Boy, and just about anything else that rhymes with the word 'Boy'. Oy!

He sleept under the covers with me cuddled up under my chin, purring and periodically licking or nibbling at my neck. When he was really comfy his tongue would stick out of his mouth ever so slightly. He just couldn't help any of it, having never really had a cat-mama to speak of. He spent a fair amount of time alone in that funky apartment in Hayward as I had to work full-time to pay the bills and was attending Junior College too.

Soon after Mr. Kitty came to live with me, I was accepted to Fresno State. We moved there and I started working on upper division units to complete my Bachelor's Degree. I was busy extra curricular activites and working to pay the rent and tuition. I spent a lot of time away doing all that stuff. When I was at home he stayed under the bed most of the time, didn't visit guests or just hissed at them, and was pretty much afraid of his own shadow. He was always a one person cat. He had issues.

Mr. Kitty and I were together for 16 years. He was a really sweet guy. I Miss him.

In the earliest days of College in Fresno, I didn't know too many people. Some burly bo-hunk of a jock that had befriended me (he actually was a right-wing christian missionary assigned to the College to lure young girls into Church with his good looks so as to save their souls) had some friends living in College sponsored housing who had been threatened with eviction because they had a kitten. Jock had been to my house and knew I had a cat. He had probably pegged me as a Crazy Cat Lady (as well as in need of soul-saving). And correctly too because the moment he told me that the cat was going to be sent to the pound (apartments are much harder to come by than cats after all), I said I'd take her. With not one ounce of hesitation, I agreed to take in the cat. No, that's wrong - I didn't agree to take the cat, I decided to.

A couple of days later, Jock arranged for me to go to the girls' apartment to pick her up. I would have never been invited to, nor willingly visited these girls or this apartment building under any other circumstance (much different worlds we all existed in). So I cautiously walk in the place and see a sweet and rather demure cat sitting on one of the dining room chairs. I thought "poor kitty," swooped her up and ran her home to Mr. K as quickly as I could.

This is Maggie. She came with the name and for some inexplicable reason it never seemed right to change it. She's also known as: Mistress, Mistress Maggie, Mama, Sweet Mama, Mama's Girl, Old Lady, or Maggit (tone, volume, and/or cadence dependent upon her behavior at any given moment, of course).

Maggie and I have been together for 17 years now.

This picture pretty much sums up her personality.

She's a piece of work.

Birds Of A Feather...

Beginners Mind

Yesterday I felt vaguely sad and slightly fragile. In the morning, Twig cried uncontrollably about not being able to take his baseball glove to school. We were running late to meet our deadlines and it weighed on me. As we meandered in the car along our usual path, he began to talk about Nemo again. He's very scared about Nemo going to the boat and even more scared about his Dad not being able to find him. Since we watched the movie, he now says "Don't go, Mommy". It's always in the context of our parting. It makes my insides flutter the way they did when I was a kid. It feels kinda like a tickle but it's really deep emotional anguish. He's two years old and as hard as I try to explain things to him, it's just not adequate. How do you express to your child that if they were ever lost you'd never stop searching for them? How do you tell them that if they were lost it would consume you possibly to the point of your own demise?

Today I feel very sad and extremely fragile. The day began with a mini-argument in the shower. That hurt-feeling hit my belly just moments later. Tears ensued in the hallway, during cereal, whilst dressing Twig. There is no consistent place or time that is easy any more.

My back hurts. My waistline is growing by the day. I miss Hubbie, Twig, and my former life. Old difficult patterns are beginning to re-emerge - again. All I want to do is sleep. I know what needs to be done and yet I feel consistently unable to be in charge and do it. I feel like a child trapped in an adult's body and that sucks because all I ever wanted when I was a child was to be a grown up, in charge of me and the goings on around me. I figured there would be less suffering. I figured wrong.

5 Notable Neighborhoods

I found Oakland Magazine about 6 months ago by accident and as soon as I did, was so excited about it that I decided to subscribe - for two years. I read every month hoping to find something or somewhere described in the pages as dare I say [ehchem] new and different to explore in this urban mecca. But every month I am somewhat disappointed.

The Zine can be read from cover to cover in about an hour (which is a drag in and of itself). But read three issues and you begin to see a trend: the magazine's primary focus is on advertising the hip-happenin'-expensive-see-or-be-seen places around the city. Almost every issue contains a review of a pricey College Avenue, Solano Avenue (this is not technically Oakland but it fits the previous description perfectly), or Piedmont Avenue Restaurant. And every issue devotes a fair amount of the rest of the pages available to activities that require a certain degree of privilege and hard cold cash to participate in (wine tasting, restoring homes in the more 'desired' neighborhoods, or attending local benefits for around $200 per plate, etc.). Even the advertising is directed toward certain people - those looking for a night out on the town, a good Realtor, or private schools - you know the drill.

I have been known to frequent those neighborhoods, to eat at those pricey restaurants or buy certain goods and services in those locales. I'll even admit that Wood and I rented an apartment a few short doorsteps off of Piedmont Avenue for a few years. I have been known to donate some of my 'extra' cash to charity. I went to a good suburban public school, Hubbie went to boarding school in High School, and we aren't shy about the fact that we want a great education for Twig. And yes, Hubbie and I want to 'restore' - even update - our 1938 bungalo. But reading Oakland Magazine sometimes makes me feel a little 'less than' everyone else. We just can't consistently afford the "Good Life" presented in the articles contained upon it's pages.

It may go without saying then, that when Wood and I were looking to buy a house in Oakland we searched high-and-low in all of the more 'desirable' neighborhoods. The ones with good schools, lower crime rates, even the up and coming places. We soon realized that we couldn't afford to buy in the neighborhoods we "wanted" to live in and have a reasonable quality of life at the same time. The one house that we did make an offer on (great neighborhood, great schools, great house) went to bidding-war and we had to bow out. So we expanded search. We found a fabulous affordable fixer/starter - with character - below Mac Arthur. It's nothing like Montclair.

We likely deal with a bit more uncertainty in our neighborhood when it comes to safety, break ins, theft, violence, etc. than in some of those regularly featured and revered districts of Oakland. This isn't a Rockridge experience. As our fabulous Real Estate Broker said of her West Oakland neighborhood; "It's Complicated here." We deal with more of the reality of day to day life in an urban city... There have been several murders within blocks of our house, our cars have been broken-in to on more than one occasion, and our neighbor across the street recently had his house broken into during broad daylight.

But we are a very diverse group. We are Black, White, Jewish, Hmong, Chinese, and Mexican - all on the same block. There are 12 houses on the street. Eleven are owner-occupied. We all know one another by name. Between everyone, there are 14 school aged children that live on our street. They play together. We know one another's work, home and cell phone numbers and don't hesitate to call if something is out of order. We eat meals together. We care for one another's pets when someone's on vacation. We look out for one another. Our neighborhood is Old-School.

People that frequent the other districts don't know much about ours. It's kinda fun to tell people that we live in the San Antonio District. They ask "where is that?" and we get to teach 'em something about the Town and tell them that it's below Mac Arthur between Highland Hospital and Fruitvale Avenue.

It's gritty, seedy, diverse, and full of activity in our neck of the woods. Yep, we thought that this was going to be a transitional neighborhood - we'd sort-of talked about planning to move to a locale with better schools and such when we needed to. But about a year ago, something really cool happened and it all changed. Farmer Joe's, a tiny Oakland institution of a grocery store at the corner of 35th Avenue and Mac Arthur expanded into a huge new location. As they constructed it, I told Wood and anyone else that would listen that this would be the turning point - our neighborhood was soon to be a destination.

A couple of weeks ago we learned that Peet's Coffee and La Farine are moving in right across the street from Farmer Joe's.

That ROCKS!

But hey, what's better than Peets and La Farine right across the street from Farmer Joes (all by the way, are within walking distance of my house)? Oakland Magazine was delivered to my doorstep yesterday and in it contains an article titled "Getting to Know You - Five Oakland Neighborhoods Worth Exploring". Ours is among those featured and considered to be a Gem.

So now it's confirmed and in writing: not only are we new and different - we're in this 'hood for the long haul.

Richard's Nick Name is...

----- Wonelle Writes to Hubbie ----
Sent: 4/27/2007 2:55:12 PM
Subject: Monday Night
My friends have asked to reschedule [our usual] Wednesday night [outing] to Monday. That kosher with you?

----- Hubbie Writes to Wonelle ----
Sent: Friday, April 27, 2007 3:04:36 PM
Subject: Re: Monday Night
NO. Monday is my night.

----- Wonelle [didn't but wanted to write] Writes to Hubbie ----
Sent: Friday, April 27, 2007 3:11:26 PM
Subject: Re: Monday Night

[Fuck off, Dick!] SOR-RY!

Technically, Monday and Tuesday are "your" nights. [You went out on Monday and Thursday, and you'll be out tonight and tomorrow and Sunday. But I got a guilt trip passed my way for going out on Wednesday for 3 hours while you and Twig were sleeping. Wonder how you'll behave when I get ready to leave to go buy a bra tomorrow?] I'm having a hard time keeping up with whosey-whatsy-whensy's schedule so that's why I'm asking before making solid plans [Why is it that you think I can remember everything all of the time and shouldn't ever need to re-clarify? Actually, that's not even it. It's that you're a bitch if I don't remember something or if you have to remind me when we're talking about the day's/week's events and how to organize it all. I'm just trying to talk to you about scheduling and it seems like you're angry at me when I do (this is not an isolated incident). I've only got so many brain cells and I'm juggling a lot too. DON'T BARK, I DON'T LIKE IT.]....

Would it be possible for you to reschedule Monday this coming week say for Thursday? [For fuck's sake, cut me some slack. I don't ask for that much time away and we need to be flexible with one another. Oh, and I hate that when this happens I feel like I'm asking a reluctant parent for permission to do something that's contrary to our family values or something. If it's that you want more time with me - say it, plan for it and make it so.]

[And one more thing. If you're teasing in the least, you need to do a much better job of conveying that.]

UPDATE:
I overreacted. That's one of the problems with email. You sometimes can't get the sarcasm or tone of someone's words in print. Especially the longer you've known and lived with the person. And when you both are on edge every time the other has something to say.

Some Days

* Lawyer: "What is your marital status?"
* Witness: "Fair."

Ahhhh!

Much better.

Clothes On The Couch

Pretty nice furniture you got there.
Too bad it's covered in laundry. You can hardly see it. There's nowhere to sit. This entire scene drives me crazy. So what am I doing about it? Blogging. The couch looks the same as it did when this photo was taken a week or so ago (not exactly but the same theme) so I'm going to get off my duff and do something about it - put the crap away! More writing later...

Several Things In The Works

Work keeps me busy during the day. Family keeps me busy during the evening. Sleep keeps me from writing, despite the insomnia. There just aren't enough hours in the day, I say.

I relish the weekends to catch up on a little bit of personal quiet-time-thinking and writing. The time just goes by so quickly. It feels like as soon as I get started and in a groove, it's time to end.

Several drafts are written they're just waiting to be published. With a bit of proofreading and edits they'll be soon sent into cyber space (this is new - I normally just write and publish immediately).

Of All The Places...

One of the perks of my job is that I travel for meetings once a month. Nothing too extravagant, it's usually Sacramento. But this month I had the opportunity to drive to Fresno. Yes, to most people it is one of those "Armpit of America" places. I agree with you on many accounts. It's basically rural, it's hot, and it smells like cow dung most of the time. Like many growing suburban places it is a hotbed of Strip-Malls, gas guzzling SUV's, and conservativism. However, despite all of these negative aspects, Fresno has a relatively diverse and large populace (one of the largest populations of Armenian and Hmong live there and Wikipedia says it's among the top 50 most populated cities in the United States), some great architecture, a University, and personal history. So I can't exactly lead the "Fresno is the Armpit of America" band, for as soon as I start traveling South on Interstate 5 from the Altamont Pass, I am immediately taken to fond memories of time spent there.

What? Fond of Fresno?

Part of my Mother's family settled in the Central Valley so I spent a lot of time there as a child. We would spend every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter at least, at The Ranch in Madera or at Jack and Auburn's house right next to the railroad tracks in Fresno. My earliest memories are of Holidays there.

Sunny days playing in stacks of hay and metal work barns full of junk with my favorite boy 'cousins' and twirling in cotton fields in the middle of nowhere until I couldn't stand any more are not faint memories. I clearly remember that I enjoyed the Thanksgiving dinners at the Ranch - It was quite a scene when 20 people would blissfully eat their meal around the pushed together card table, picnic table and pool table covered with plywood and a tablecloth. I clearly remember that when it wasn't dinner time, I worried that there were bugs in the beds, the floor was sloped, and the water was strangely orange colored. But oh, how I loved to chase jack-rabbits and feral kittens all the while believing that I'd actually be able to catch one and pet it.

I remember vividly that when we spent holidays in Fresno the train would wake me several times a night as it passed by the house. I remember being scared to death that Cousin K and I would get caught trying to sneak into the living room where those same 20 people slept on the floor on Christmas Eve to try and get at our stockings early. I can see Easter when we would eat amazing food and then play football on the huge front lawn. And I remember that every Easter I happily sat alone in my Holiday Best in the master bedroom full of food watching the 10 Commandments on Television.

Almost unwittingly, when it was time to go to College, I chose California State University Fresno. It was just far enough away from home that my Mom couldn't just drop in and close enough that I could afford go home if I needed a visit. It was not glamorous and it was inexpensive. Both of which were appealing. And once I got there I learned things about politics, people, race, and myself that I had no clear understanding of before. It was a place where I began to really see the world and myself for what we could be. It was where I began to become one with the True Me.

It has been something like 12 years since I've had reason to visit Fresno. Friends aren't there any more and it's not like the Bay Area. But when I learned that one of my work meetings would be held there, I was excited at the chance to go. Besides, it's spring, and spring is the best time to drive anywhere in the Central Valley, especially in the early morning. I was on the road by 6:30 and it was, and is such a beautiful drive at that time of the day (it doesn't smell like cow dung when it's cool). And the memories were beautiful too, even if I didn't have the time to visit the first place I ever ate Thai Food, the neighborhoods I lived and played in, Campus, or my favorite professor who's still teaching in the Social Work program there. And even though Dolly, the ranch, Jack & Auburn, their house by the railroad tracks, and Christmases don't exist the way they once did, it felt really good to be barreling down down the road alone at 75 mph with my thoughts being interrupted only by the beauty of the landscape and the loud, loud, loud lyrics of Morphine's "Like Swimming" (particularly the track 'Empty Box').

By the end of the day my back hurt really badly from sitting on my ass for 10 hours. But Wood, Twig and I had spent a 4-day, long and arduous Easter weekend in Los Angeles with my Mother in Law just days earlier. The stint of solitude was much welcomed as I needed to 'come down' from that visit. It was chock-full of her crazy innuendos and unspoken expectations that make us all really edgy. Like many, many times before, the drive and visit to Fresno helped make 'it' feel better. My ever present unmet need to be Alone has been adequately, if not only temporarily, fulfilled by a road trip to the "Armpit of America".

Hair

My hair has been bothering me for weeks. It recently reached the "too long" stage. Too long, you say? Wood finds it on his clothing at 4pm on Wednesday when he has been away from me for at least 10 hours and is in San Francisco (I'm in Oakland). Twig finds it in his mouth while he is trying to eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner, any day of the week, at almost any location. It is in the entry carpet and even when the vacuum is on the strongest suction setting I can't get it out of the fibers unless I do it manually. I wake up at all hours of the night with an itchy neck, ears, or eyes, or better yet waking up with that awful suffocating feeling because I'm eating or breathing it. However, it is the fact that it's constantly in my butt that has driven me to get it cut.

A couple of weeks ago I told my hairdresser, who also happens to be my sister, that I was thinking about going short again. When I arrived at my appointment I told her that she could do anything she wanted with it. "Go ahead, you've had to had some fantasy about this for years. Really, I don't care. Whatever you want. It'll grow back!" She was dumbstruck - had no idea what to do with it - even with full license to do whatever she wanted.

In the end, she took about 8 inches off and gave me an easy-care chin length "bob". Conservative for sure but not a big deal at all. I've had this style before and I've been wanting to go short-short for a long time. So, I'm sure I'll be visiting her within about 4 weeks to have the rest hacked off! Will keep you posted.

This is David Shrigley's Work I found his stuff because I downloaded Mozilla onto my work computer and they recommended an add on called Stumble!. I'm a sucker so you're probably gonna see some extra crap posted here. Although this isn't really crap, in my opinion.

On Becoming A New Woman

When I got knocked up, I became a New Woman. Literally - physically, psychologically, and emotionally - even to myself I was unrecognizable from the person that I had been for 35+ years prior to being pregnant.

As the baby grew within me, the transformation of my Self became clearer to me and everyone around me. My body was absolutely different than it had ever been. In the early months I couldn't eat and lost 20 lbs. I was astonishingly tired and wanted only to sleep. During the middle point of gestation, the only thing that tasted good was Ben and Jerry's Toffee Heath Bar Crunch - to the tune of 2 or more pints a day. By the end of the pregnancy, I had gained 50 lbs (from my original weight, so I had gained more like 70lbs) all of which was retained water in my feet. I was fat, couldn't move very fast, and oh, how my feet hurt.

The physical changes were one thing. Getting fat and losing my mobility was hard, don't get me wrong. But, in hindsight, the psychological changes were more intense. As soon as my period was late, I took pregnancy tests. My period has never been more than a day or two late so by the end of week one and at least that many negative EPT's, I was pretty sure that Wood had done the deed. As soon as my childhood dream of being pregnant and becoming a mommy had begun to come true, I wondered if it was the right thing to do, if it was what I really wanted. During that entire week of negative EPT's I wondered, "Is this my chance to change my mind? It is, after all, such an awsome responsibility to be a parent. We could be happy without children".

When the EPT finally came back positive, I was downright flipped out. I had more than a week to think and stress about it, my hormones were wacked, out and I didn't even know it! Every single one of my previously "fixed" issues (and especially the ones still lurking) reared their ugly heads and I was a fat, D Cup, pimple faced, isolated 10 year old with zero self esteem. Not an ounce of self esteem or confidence in my ability to be a good person, a good wife, or good worker, let alone a good parent.

I cried my eyes out like never before on Wood's shoulder not too long after the EPT was positive and he looked at me with a bit of worry. He reassured me, told me that we had a while to prepare. That it would be okay. Even if he was worried, he didn't let on. I wanted so badly to be excited but I was so tired that I couldn't muster the energy to be. And when I'm tired (pregnant or not) life seems oh, so out of control and impossible. On even the best of days I tend to focus on and ask the really tough questions. On my worst, this natural inclination is intensified by about 50. All throughout my pregnancy, I wondered, (honestly when I'm overtired I sometimes still wonder) who I am to think that I can be a good [enough] parent-person and raise a good human being.

Ah, gestation... When I didn't sleep, I ate Toffee Heath Bar Crunch, cried or obsessed about just about everything related to being a parent, or giving birth, or similar subjects (oh yeah, we were also purchasing our first home during this time). But in retrospect, it didn't help me prepare. Didn't make it any easier to transition. I didn't work any of it out. Just obsessed. And, for all of the people I had ever known who had had babies before me, even my closest friends and family, I honestly don't remember ever hearing about the hard parts of pregnancy, childbirth, parenting, or maintaining a marriage with a family. I honestly remember only the stories of the glowing pregnant lady, isn't it glorious, fabulous, such a miracle, 'you're going to be amazed how much you love your baby', you were born in 5 hours reports. Okay, I have always heard the urban legend: 'sending the husband to the store in the middle of the night' stories. But, I never heard anything even resembling my truth: 'wife-turns-into-the-exorcist-with-absolutely-no-warning-oh-fuck-who-did-I-marry-what-was-I-thinking' stories. When I did try to talk about it, I recall that people quickly changed the subject to the happier stories.

Wood and I had been married less than a year by the time I turned into someone he had never met before. Actually, someone neither of us had met before and someone we are pretty sure we don't want to meet ever again.

(3/20/07)

Satya - And Death In General

Wood met Satya in college at UC Berkeley. They initially didn't like each other - hated each other actually. Somewhere along the way they each softened up, got to know each other, and became best friends. But that's only part of the story. See, 'Best Friends' is not really the correct term. It's tough to define their relationship and the bond they shared, it was special. So much so that when they were 'them' and Wood and I were first dating, I was almost jealous. They called each other 'brother' - not brotha' - they were connected much more deeply than that. They were soul mates. Satya was the best man at our wedding, and as good as I am, Satya was the one person that Wood wanted to talk to when times were tough or out of this world funny. In many ways he was Wood's Rock, much like Wood is to many of those around him.

He visits. Not his memory - him. Holding on, unable to let go. Still suffering. Reminding us of the void that his absence has created. Sometimes, it's very difficult to keep his visits in check. His visits and his memory are every bit as intense as he was.

This became the Satya's Death announcement. Talk about all that the 21st Century has to offer... it was sent to our friends via email. Neither of us had it in us to talk to everyone on the phone.

Satya

June 27, 1972 - September 19, 2005

He loved good food, music, literature and beautiful people - and shared these
things with the wonderful people that he surrounded himself with. No doubt, he was a charismatic person that others enjoyed very much. He was a skilled tradesman - a gifted carpenter and painter, active in the Stagehands Union for many years.

He was raised in "A-to-Z-in-the-USA" (Azusa, CA). He lived in the Oakland/Berkeley area for more than 10 years and studied Psychology at UC Berkeley. Upon his graduation, he studied and was ordained in the Japanese Soto Zen Tradition of Buddhism at the San Francisco Zen Center, spending considerable time living, working and practicing at Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, in the Carmel Valley, and Green Gulch Farm in Sausalito.

He battled depression and the resulting alcohol and drug use for much of his adult life. Last Sunday, he overdosed and was admitted to the hospital for treatment. Despite the best efforts of doctors to reverse the damage done, he suffered severe liver damage and his body began to shut down. Out of respect for his wishes His family released life supports on Monday.


Satya was the first of many deaths in a year. Hertha, a work colleague, was second. Dolly , my great, great aunt, third. Jack, Dolly's son-in-law, fourth. Fifth was Mr. K, my 17 year old grey tuxedo cat. Sixth, in September 2006, my dad. We are currently in the midst of a quite welcomed dry spell.

Since death announcements never do the dead person justice and death usually includes uresolved business, there will be more installments to come on this subject.

Paula in the Garden is a Beautiful Thing!

It's too bad it's been difficult for her to do for such a long time. She's fabuous at it. It's a passion of hers. And the two combined make for something truly amazing. I wish you could see. Maybe someday there will be a photo so you can.

Satya

he visits
his voice
his car
his eyes
face
tattoos
appear when I least expect them

his visits
full of love
as was he
they make me smile

but today the pain
is acute and
the tears stream down my face
amost as uncontrollable
and as fresh
as the day he killed himself

What a Bitch!

Stark-raving-immature-lunatic-bitch.

Not you. Me.

Instead of focusing on the fact that the laundry is done, I focus on the fact that 4 loads of washed and dried clothes are on the couch, unfolded and wrinkled. Not that Hubbie made sure that it was all done, but the fact that it wasn't done the way I want it to be done.

Even in the midst of it I know I'm having an immature, childish fit. I know that it's stupid. I know that I'm being a bitch. I know that I don't want to behave this way and/or be a bitch. Even still, the more I focus on what I think that I should be focusing on (the fact that for instance, the laundry is done and done is good, and/or the fact that I'm being childish expecting things be done my way all of the time) the more pissy I get.

I'm really tired from this past week's events. Being over tired is not good for me. Makes it extra difficult to be gracious and thankful. Believe it or not, I really am thankful for all of the things that I do have.

Among those things I'm thankful for: Twig hasn't had a fever since Saturday afternoon. Wood and he are out and about shopping so that I can clean the house. A clean house will help the pissies go away. Guess I'd better get to it.

F-in' Fever

I never made it to work on Thursday because Twig's fever made it to 104 during the day. We went to the Doctor's office again and they said we didn't really have much to worry about. Overall, he's doing well. If the fever is still high Sunday, we need to bring him in on Monday and they'd start doing tests.

Last night at about midnight Twig's fever reached 106 degrees. Scary. We promptly gave more medicine, forced water, and used cool washcloths on the back of his neck. We got it down to 105 in about an hour. Not surprisingly, I couldn't fall asleep very easily and didn't sleep very well when I did. I woke up at 3am to give meds and again at 6am to get ready for work.

I had to go to work today and the entire day was difficult. Because I had left my sick child at home. Not that Twig and Wood were together - it was that I left my sick son. As it turns out, they hit the zoo and had a great time. His fever didn't reach 103.2 until 2:30 in the afternoon.

He was a happy camper until I got home. Actually, he was very happy to see me when I showed up. He was quite cuddly and talkative until I started cooking for him. At which point he cried for about 15 minutes - a meltdown about pot stickers - go figure. But after a fair amount of [more] cuddling, he got himself together and ate the potstickers...Blood sugar must have been low. He's been happy ever since he finished eating.

He's been playing a little bit tonight and that's always a good sign. We're on our way to bed soon. Unfortunately, I have to work tomorrow.

Jeff Stryker Did HARD Time!!

Here's something I wrote oh, so long ago about a play that a friend and I attended in 1999. Wow, it's been a long time, friend. Miss you and our adventures (or misadventures?). Hope Portland is treating you well. xo.

Jeff Stryker toured in a 1998-99 stage show called "Jeff Stryker Does Hard Time" which was an erotic-comedy set in a prison. The show ended with a dance finale in which Stryker disrobed for the audience

______


OH, MY!

I love an adventure and I must say that this was definitely one! One I won't forget for some time. OH, MY!

Four of us walked into the theatre and we were 4 of, yes, 4 Women in the place. It was somewhat uncomfortable at first. It kinda felt like we were intruding on some private boy party.

The play was bad, the plot stunk, the acting was even worse but I guess the nudity made up for it (this one I'm still debating in my own mind). The story is set in Homo central"; SF County jail. The big news of the week is that Porn Star Jeff Stryker has asked to serve his time there and his request has been granted. The remainder of the "story" shows all of the gay guys fighting over the "bitch", myriad sexual acts (including a fairly explicit rape scene), frontal nudity and lots I MEAN LOTS of REALLY bad "gay" jokes. So bad, in fact, that there were some giggles and some "oh, ho"'s coupled with shaking heads and "oh, maahhan"'s.

Thougout, the plans for the inmates to produce "festival de la noche" were discussed and was the transition to the "attraction we'd all been waiting for". Jeff Stryker came onto the stage wearing only his Motorcycle boots and an erection! OH, MY! He poured and rubbed about a quart of oil on himself and proceeded to do a little dance (?well, not exactly a dance?). Masturbation describes it best. Flung his condom off into the crowd (EEEWWW) and just about the time I thought my friend was going to crawlout of her skin and need to be peeled off of the ceiling, HE JUMPED OFF OF THE STAGE AND (OH, MY) continued to do his dance for the audience up close and personal (he started with us). He paid special attention to a few of the women in the crowd, and I must say that at this point EVERYONE felt uncomfortable regardless of gender. Even the boys felt like they were intruding on some private party because he was running around giving the equivalent of lap dances. Thrusting his hips and providing an up close and personal introduction to his penis. I don't think anyone touched it, although one guy did touch his leg, so, you never know. He finished by waving (literally) himself a little closer than necessary at my friend and I (my friend absolutely LOVED it). I was, and still am, a little stunned. How is that possible? To maintain an erection for at least 10 minutes for complete strangers? Maybe I just answered my own question there. I would say that I got my $40 worth and it was one thick, long penis! Fairly attractive, as well (seriously)! As far as the penises of total strangers go.

HMMMM, what else can I say? Oh, after the show, he raced to the door to thank every person for attending the performance and making sure that they knew he hoped they had enjoyed themselves. As we left (OH, MY), he shook my hand, or I shook his, (HE's still NAKED) and then grabbed his penis and said "Oh look, have a head cold!" Then he shook my friend's hand. She's never going to wash it she's jsut going to smell it
for he rest of her life.

I swear, this experience was similar to that of being a teenager and seeing a penis for the first time! It was unreal! Like nothing I've ever experienced before! We laughed and laughed and giggled like pre-adolescents for the rest of the evening......

Childhood Sickness Syndrome

Happy and Healthy TwigTwig - Not so happy. Not so healthy.

Fever was 103.8 this morning. Isn't going down too much even with fever reducer.
We're forcing juice water and veggin' in front of the tube like we never, ever do.
Papi is coming home from work early so that I can go in late.

Sick-O-Rama

Okay, we're not over whatever this sickness is... Fever of102.3 started last night and even with a couple of doses of meds hovered around 101 through this morning. By lunch time today it had spiked to 104.3 but did finally respond to fever reducer and is back in the 102 range.

Our Doctor said today that all of the stool tests came back negative. No salmonella or other serious intestinal yuckies breeding in there. While this is good, good, good, our weekend ER adventure is still without explanation. In terms of what is happening now we can't be sure that it's even related, I guess. But she said that we are to take him in immediately if he has 1) severe stomach pain 2) blood in his stool or 3) a fever of 102 for 5 days. Oy! Please, no!

I had hoped to work from home today but Twig hasn't been comfortable enough to sleep - even in the car or on me and this is unusual on both accounts. He's chillin with Dora, Bene, and Boots at the moment, swiggin some grape juice-water every now and again trying to stave off dehydration. Not an issue that I couldn't work from home, my brain just can't wrap itself around developing policies and procedures and being aware enough to focus on child (sick or not) at the same time anyway. Multi-tasking anything else would be absolutely no problem. When it comes to my baby - everything and everyone else can wait. Thank goodness my new employer is pretty cool about it. It helps that I've been kicking ass and taking names since the moment I started working there.

Fruit

He hasn't experienced any tummy problems for at least 24 hours.

He did fall at school today and has a lovely raspberry on his forehead.

When I saw it, my heart ached just as much as it did while we were at the Emergency Room on Saturday.

It won't ever go away, will it?

The ache of love, I mean.

Holding Our Breath, But Not For Much Longer

All is pretty much well in the Tummy Neighborhood of Twig. He had a fever last night of nearly 102 but it was lessened with medicine and didn't return after it's initial debut.

We went to see our regular Doc today who didn't seem to be too concerned about the entire ordeal - as it is today that is. Twig was pretty happy at the office. But, I know he's not completely better. His energy is a bit low, he isn't eating like usual, and he's got those circles under his eyes. He's talking about his stomach hurting and every now and again he'll say "My stomach has an owie, I need to go to the Doctor's office now." Is it real pain or just discussion about the events of the last couple of days? Maybe it's that he's not eaten anything but the BRAT diet for the past two days and he's just hungry. Hopefully it's just the latter and will cease with a good meal.

Only one the Stool sample tests is in - negative for infection (yaay!). We'll have to wait until Wednesday or so to find out if there are any results from the other. Sigh. Hopefully no news is good news.

Even though the Doctor wouldn't tell me if he's completely "free" from the possibility of this Intusussception thing, she thinks he's pretty much okay. I guess I can live with the fact that it's not an issue if he doesn't have symptoms.

Wood and I are a bit stressed from it all. Worry can make you tired. We're beat.

Will keep updating as news comes in. Hopefully there will be no news to report!

Saturday's Weather Forecast

Saturday's weather forecast for the Oakland, CA area called for sunny skies with temperature's in the mid to high 70's on Saturday. It wasn't that warm at 8 in the morning at Point Isabel where we take our dog for a walk every weekend. Our routine includes Twig in the stroller, since there are lots of dogs, most that are larger than a grown man, running around off-leash chasing balls, sticks, the wind, or other dogs. A thirty pound toddler likely looks like an interactive chew toy for most of these beasts, and I'm a freak, so we require him to be in the stroller for our weekend walks there. He happily watches the dogs play, eats some snacks, and listens to his favorite Sesame Street tunes on the MP3 player. All the while Wood and I walk at a relatively quick clip, throw the ball for the dog, and try to chat a bit.

After we did our normal routine yesterday, we headed over to the El Cerrito TJ's to get some food. Almost as soon as we walked into the store, Twig said his stomach hurt. His face got all contorted, he winced rather loudly, his face turned as white as a ghost, and then he looked like he was going to pass out. This happened several more times over a period of about 10 minutes but the pain turned into full-on screaming and crying followed by this paleness and this looking like he was going to pass out. Wood and I were frightened.

In the car, he fell asleep almost immediately. While we drove home I thought about the morning. What could be making his tummy hurt like this? What did he eat for breakfast? Are there any chemicals out and/or in his reach that he could have gotten into? He had been a grump for the past couple of days, and reportedly had a bad listening day at school on Friday, so for the past day or so I figured he was on his way to getting the same green nose-cold that the rest of the kids at School have. Oh, he's been eating chalk! I called the doctor's office, who referred me to the Poison Control, who said that "chalk is just like Tums, that would make his stomach hurt less, not more". Okay, the chalk isn't going to kill him. Whew!

We decided to run errands while he slept. All of a sudden, he woke up screaming holding his stomach, writhing in pain. This was immediately followed by paleness, sweats, and lethargy. Repeat the earlier scene, just more intense. We were on a busy street with lots of activity. You know, one of those quaint neighborhood streets with lots of stores, restaurants, families, etc. The only thing that piqued a tiny bit of interest was a woman in a power wheelchair who whizzed past us. Otherwise, people with balloons, children squealing with delight, and a woman pandering for money by singing and playing the banjo solicited only a very meek "Mommy, it's music" from him.

I called the Doctor's office again, despite the fact that they were closing in 10 minutes and explained the situation. I was guaranteed a call back by the doc who was working today.

The pain, screaming out loud, and lethargy continued to intensify so without a call back from the doctor's office so 30 minutes later Wood and I decided to go directly to the Emergency Room at Children's Hospital. We got a call back from our doctor's office while we were in the waiting room. She said that the hospital doctors would be better able to help find out what was going on than she would over the phone.

Twig was being seen by a doctor within an hour of our initial arrival at the Emergency Room, having periodic but very intense pain. When being examined, he had severe pain in the upper right side of his abdomen. Otherwise, everything was normal.

The doctor left the room to blow her nose and came back to tell us her preliminary diagnosis: Intussusception - one portion of the bowel slides into the next, much like the pieces of a telescope. When this occurs, it creates an obstruction in the bowel, with the walls of the intestines pressing against one another. This, in turn, leads to swelling, inflammation, and decreased blood flow to the intestines involved. Her plan: they would put an IV in his arm, send us for an ex-ray and ultrasound of his abdomen, and go from there. Wood and I both knew that this was serious but were both trying to being as patient and objective as possible.

In about 10 minutes, the nurse and a helper were in our room to place an IV in Twig's arm. What a trooper this kid is. He chatted up the two nurses (the helper, a very large man named Dave, who was prepped and ready to hold him down should screaming, hitting and kicking ensue) about this great book by Jon Scieszka, school activities, and other niceties. When the most fabulous male nurse was preparing to poke him with the needle the second time - and my son had absolutely no problem with it - it hit me that they were preparing him to be ready in case he needed emergency surgery on his intestines. I excused myself for about 2 minutes to go to the bathroom (read: cry my eyes out in another room so that my son wouldn't see my panic). When I returned, the nurse said that in his 25 years of nursing children, he'd never had a patient so easy to set an IV. Wood and I honestly believe that Dave was genuinely disappointed that he didn't have anything to do. He was grateful to Twig for the story recommendation for his 5 year old, though.

We went for the x-ray and then the ultrasound - where again this two year old kid did everything he was told with absolutely no whining, crying, or refusal of any kind. And while the radiologist did the ultrasound (a blockage was seen on the x-ray) we listened intently to the problem being seen and the possible diagnoses. The colon is thickened and swollen, there are many swollen lymph nodes in the area but the kidneys look good. It could be intussusception (not likely but you never know), there could be bleeding in the intestines which is causing the swelling and thickening of the colon, and/or some bacterial or viral disease process happening. We were sent back to the Emergency Room to talk to the Doctor.

Before the doctor came back, the nurse brought a bag of fluid in and said that Twig needed to have this. We'd have to wait to see the doctor until she heard back from the Radiologist as to the results of the x-ray and ultrasound. Twig was feeling better - no intermittent screaming from the pain for about 2 hours - he wanted to eat and drink and was being a typical two year old turd so being connected to the IV machine was a bit trying.

When the doctor came back (it wasn't the original one), she said that they're not exactly sure what's going on. They don't think that intussusception is an immediate concern and they're going to treat him for the bacterial or viral option (the treatment is IV fluid therapy) and need to do some tests on his stool to try to determine what is going on. We were sent home with a sack to collect some poop from his next bowel movement. We were told to bring back the stool sample as soon as possible after collecting it, to bring him back to the hospital immediately if his pain increases again, he stops peeing, has a high fever (101) for more than 2-3 days, or has diarrhea more than 12 times in 1 day. We are to see our regular doctor Monday or Tuesday for follow up on the results of the stool culture(s). The final diagnosis: inflammation to the intestine.

We went home after 6 hours in the Emergency Room, having missed the glorious weather, but knowing that we made the right decision to follow our instincts and head directly to the hospital. Granted, we're not completely out of the woods on this. But, our son isn't in excruciating pain, screaming, or looking like he's going to pass out. His eyes have those tired bags underneath them, but a little worse than usual this morning (which is always a sign to me that he's sick) even though he slept pretty well last night. But he has only eaten toast and two bites of banana in the last 24 hours. This morning, he's happily watching television. He's usually bored by the end of the first episode of Sesame Street. He's had two already and just started on Charlie and Lola. He can sit there and watch as long as he wants today.