Monday, May 12, 2008


Well I did it. I moved over to wordpress. Here's the new page:

Cost of Living

Hope to see you there!

Mother's day hangover

Ok, I'm not really hungover. I had one box glass of wine last night, while uploading Mother's Days pics. I had a great weekend. The only downside was my guilt for not going to JL's grand opening, but I look forward to reading her blog about it!

On Saturday, while LB was with her dad, I played the 5th wheel to Jiji and Grady's romantic pilgrimage to Pagosa Hot Springs, and OMG, it was amazing. I haven't been there since they attempted to make it a "destination" spa (barf), but honestly, its wicked nice now. We even schlepped the local discount out of the front desk dude.

I had a little phobia about squeezing back into a swimsuit 3 YEARS OF NOT WEARING ONE. Yes, while Jiji and her man enjoyed a quiet breakfast with the soon-to-be in laws, I was panicking through the Mother's Day Sale crowds at JC Penny, trying to find the least hideous two piece I could find in less than an hour. I forced through 20 suits in record time, and what did I come up with? A brown and green top, and blue and yellow bottoms.

Being the raised-on-a-commune, fashion victim that I am, I chose clashing comfort over matching muffin top. Hey, I was just glad I wasn't the whitest ass on the patio, and HOT DAMN there were some baby belugas out there.

Mother's Day was fun, did the usual: gorged on pico de gallo/listened to dad play guitar, while mom ranted about politics and religion. Thank god LB is oblivious to all the drama at this point. I can't wait for the day she asks me "Why is Grandma so stressed?"

But the best part was having LB come home from her dad's house in the same pair of underwear that I sent her in. She looked happy and glad to see me, no cat scratches (like last time), and there was only a twinge of tension between Jed and I. Could it be that he actually followed my request NOT to put her in diapers? Could it be that one day things may actually be friendly between us? I've been walking on eggshells for so long that I don't want to let my guard down, lest I be (to quote the movie Clueless) brutally rebuffed.

Who knows, but it was a stellar weekend indeed.

Friday, May 9, 2008

TGIF = $600 in my bank account

So I was scouring my favorite blogs, wondering if anyone got to experience the sudden elation I did about 20 minutes ago. Yes. There it was. $600 magically appeared in my bank account this morning. CHA CHING!

What am I going to do with it? Umm.... pay bills? Pay OFF debt? I'm a single mom here, with a daughter who will one day grow up and ask me for a large sum of money (hopefully for college, not breast implants, an eye job, or god knows what kind of plastic surgery will be available in the year 2024). So my Economic Stimulus check will be going into a Money Market account, and I'm going to pray that the Dollar won't be comparable to a Peso by the time LB is 18.

Yeah, that's right. SCREW YOU DUBYA. You can't FORCE me to spend my money on cheap ass Wal-Mart crap. Why would I spend money on something that isn't even made in our country? Aren't we trying to boost the economy, (meaning, supporting our OWN workers) not pay for sh**ty imported junk, that forces people to work for less than a dollar a day? I don't think so ASSCLOWN.

I'm going to take the little leftover cash and put it right into my friend JL's Opening Day Extravaganza. She's a hard worker and her family has been running a business in Durango for 3 generations now. I may also put a little money into the Farmer's Market, and throw a big dinner for all my friends.

I've been thinking about money a lot lately, since my boss took me out to lunch to celebrate "our' one year anniversary, she mentioned a raise is in my near future. I was also thinking about bloggers who actually get paid, and the amazing writers they are. Ms. Single Mama, who I just discovered, ALWAYS has funny, fearless, single-mom-friendly posts, introduced me to ANOTHER kick ass blogger. This lady is probably a total celebrity, but since I am out of the TV loop, I only can guess what her true identity. Her blog made me laugh out loud at least 3 times. She writes in her profile that her blog has created enough revenue for her hubby to QUIT HIS JOB and be SAHD!

Now maybe I'm just going on a fantasy bender because LB has been having issues at daycare lately, but OMG THAT WOULD BE MY DREAM! I'm salivating over it, honestly. Especially with the evil, looming "every other weekend" notion cutting into my already meager mommy time :(

Working full time never bothered me before. I was confident that my daughter could grow up to be an amazing, well-adjusted human being as long as she knew she was loved, and I could spend every non-working moment with her. Now that her dad is sliding back into the picture, he wants his fair share of parenting time. I know technically I get to see her everyday of the week, but really, that's only 1 hour in the morning before daycare drop-off, and about 4 hours between pick-up and bedtime. Its the weekends that are the days when I get to catch up on everything I missed Monday-Friday.

If only my blog had readers that expanded beyond Durango (no offense Colorado kids, I love you all), or if my Banner wasn't a half-assed, Publisher-created image, or if I knew more about Photoshop, or had something fresh to offer, then I could be one of those Full-Time Bloggers, traveling the world with my Gemini child in tow. I could sit outside with my laptop, while she played with her My Little Ponies, sipping coffee and listening to K.T. Tunstall & Cross Canadian Ragweed. Ok, so I know this dream-land coma is only induced by the fact I stare at a brick wall all day long, and part of me is still dealing with the "never want to see his face again" factor, but it would be.....swell, wouldn't it?

Tuesday, May 6, 2008


1) What was I doing 10 years ago?
Spending $7.50 every weekend, so I could feed my Titanic addiction. Slinging chicken at KFC. Speed racing my first car: A 1990 Geo Prizm. Staying up late acting in Community Theatre. Wow, I had fun when I was 16.

2) What are five things on your to-do list for today?
Drive Gametime applications to Rec Center.
Pick up Jiji for Lunch.
Pick up LB from daycare.
Pick up Happy Meal.
Return to daycare for boring, nobody-ever-shows-up, lame-ass parent meeting.

3) What snacks do I enjoy?
Frank's Red Hot. Seriously, anything is edible with this stuff on it.
Twizzlers (a low fat candy) HAHAHA.
I like the superfabulous, gay-friendly, rainbow goldfish.
LB's mini fruit roll-ups.
Does wine count?

4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire?
Buy my parents a vineyard in No Cal, so they could live peacefully at separate ends, and stay drunk all time.
Buy land....being a Coloraoan, DUH.
Make "Dream Fund" for LB's future.
Buy a gasless car.
Get Lasik and maybe some lipo.
Buy George W. Bush a clue.

5) Three Bad Habits
Adding too much garlic to everything.
Putting hot sauce on everything.
Being a movie snob.
Being lazy with my recycling.
Chatting/Blogging my life away.

6) 5 places I have lived…
Boston, MA
Shaftsbury, VT
My-am-Uh (Miami), OK
Petaluma, CA
Slidell, LA

7) 5 Jobs I have had
Pregnant Pizza Delivery Driver
Intern at the Jim Henson Company
Set Designer
Advertising Sales Assistant
Construction Worker

Colorado Kids, consider yourself TAGGED.

Under Staffed

A daycare center is like any other business operation: it has employees, rules and regulations, money flowing in and out, customers and bosses, and precious, precious cargo.

Sadly, like any other business, employees get sick, people have emergencies, bosses go on vacation, and 13 infants and toddlers are being cared for by 3 people. Kinda makes you wonder about those friggin crazy assess, The Duggars. Unfortunately, toddlers are unable to change diapers and do laundry, so the whole "child labor" philosophy that family employs, doesn't work in this situation.

I got a call at 2 pm yesterday, saying LB had 5 accidents at daycare and she needed more clothes and underwear. My jaw dropped. 5 ACCIDENTS?! Did they even TAKE her to the potty? I know she's a smart kid and all, but she really hasn't figured out how to pull her pants up and down on her own yet, and you still need to ask her if she has to pee. I don't think that's too much to ask for a 23 month old.

Since I live in the quaint mountain town of Durango, Wal-Mart is the only shopping option for baby undies. Wal-Mart happens to be on the exact OPPOSITE side of town. Apparently summer has come early, because I spent the entire 30 minute drive behind a GOD DAMNED TOUR BUS.

Needless to say, an hour of my workday was obliterated. The worst part was showing up at daycare, watching the chaos of crying babies, sweaty, miserable workers, and LB with her pants soaking wet. Her face lit up when she saw me, only to melt into a sob as I hugged her and rushed out the door.

Yes, I made my daughter cry. Yes, I left her at a daycare where they didn't have enough people to run it. Yes, I returned to work, where I had 50 summer school applications waiting to be filed, when the deadline was last Thursday.

Yes, I drank two glasses of wine after I put Boo Boo to bed.

I better get a friggin raise soon.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Have to

I think one of the truest parenting moments on screen consisted of Steve Martin in the obvious classic "Parenthood" when he turns to the camera and says with complete hatred

"My whole life is 'Have To' "
Lots of moms ask me how I can stand watching someone else with my daughter. How I can sit there and look at another woman wiping her nose, kissing her on the cheek, hugging her and asking her how she is. Married moms always say to me "I just couldn't do that."
I guess the answer is I don't have a choice. My daughter's father moved on without looking back, but that doesn't mean he disappeared into thin air. In fact, let me spell it out for you...
2 years down, 17 to go. It also means I have to deal with whoever he adds to our lives. Right now its a 23-year-old mom, her 6-year-old daughter and the 4-year-old sister. Depending on how long this relationship lasts, I may get to know all these people reasonably well. I don't think married people understand this concept, how many people are involved in your child's life when the parents start new lives.
So for the people who don't know how I stand living the life I've created for myself....thanks for the compliment. I bet you are thanking your lucky stars that you don't have my life. It makes me feel good that I can stomach something most married moms couldn't, because YES, it does make me want to puke every time I see Jed's girlfriend kiss LB, or when her kids call her "sister." But if I'm an emotional wreck 24/7, what kind of a mother am I?
I refuse to be that mom. I'm going to survive this, and kudos to me if you couldn't do it yourself.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Since when did I move to L.A.?

So on a day when they AREN'T doing controlled burns in the area, you can see snow capped mountains on that horizon. And people are wondering why allergies are so bad this year? This is the reason I spend $30 a bottle on Zyrtec. Yay.

Thursday, May 1, 2008


I guess my blog only works on alternate Thursdays. Maybe the IT dudes are too busy filtering out other blogging weenies around the school district. I feel special.

Do I believe in Luck? Sometimes. When it makes me feel better. Today I do. Why?

I successfully accomplished my nerdy/hippie/weirdo ritual of saying "white rabbit" this morning, being the first of the month, and all. Yay, no one in the world cares except me. I pat myself on the back, and finish drinking my coffee.

6:45 - Awaken Toddler
6:50- Potty (SUCCESS!)
7:00- Finish Cup o Java #2
7:10- Watch LB eat Cah-Teese (cottage cheese) with her hands
7:15- Get child in Car seat
7:16- Turn key in ignition
7:17- Listen to car struggle to start
7:18- Turn car off
7:19- Attempt #2
7:20- Attempt #3
7:21- Scan area for random construction workers.
7:22- Attempt # 4
7:23- LB laughs and says "Car STUCK"
7:24- Attempt #5
7:25- Attempt #6 (Did I mention how good at denial I am?)
7:26- Attempt #7 IT"S ALIIVVVE!!!!

Thank God I said White Rabbit, but that's only because I believe in luck today.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Whats Right

As difficult and lonely this past year has been, I have found comfort in my friends and family. Even if LB's daddy was off living his new life with his new family, basically leaving us in his distant memory, I had an army of positive thinking on my side. I had LB's three Leo Aunts there to pat me on the back, and puff me up.

They inflated my pride, and my ego as the "super mom", the mom who could do it all. I could face anything with them cheering me on, applauding my every success.

And every nasty word that slipped through my lips was met with overwhelming consensus. YES, what a total A**HOLE he is to leave you and LB. I don't understand what is WRONG WITH HIM. What a COMPLETE LOSER.

And as much as I hate to admit it, those bitter words and spouts of rage brought me as much comfort as the pats on the back.

Because it was easy being the good mom when he was such a F**wad. It almost made me want to try harder at being a mom, just so I could prove how much more above him I was. The worse he acted, the more he forgot about us, the better I looked, and honestly, the better I felt.

Now he has reappeared in our lives again. Wanting to be the "good dad." Wanting to see LB on a regular basis.

Everything in me screams "YOU DON'T DESERVE IT! WHY NOW? WHY NOT A YEAR AGO?"
But I know that's only my bitterness talking. If I were really the "super mom" then I would let my daughter decide what kind of a dad she has.

Every week I didn't hear from him, a sick little part of me got giddier and giddier, thinking "What if I never have to deal with him ever again?" That sense of guilty, delusional excitement has been growing for 6 weeks now, and all of a sudden POP. Reality.

And I have come to the conclusion that what may be easiest for me, may not be the best thing for LB. If I truly respect her as the amazing human being she is (even at 22 months), then I won't let my anger and sense of pride ruin it for her.

And its been hard, because my fishy emotions always seem to have a death grip on my sense of reason. I'm gonna catch that slippery, scaly bitterness, toss it back out to sea, so I can do what's right.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

A year ago

I've been having a lot of strange dreams, nostalgic thoughts and fits of deja-vu this week. Why? Because the chaotic sign of Aries is turning into the stable, generous sign of Taurus? Because a huge unknown has been eradicated from the world of child support? Because one year ago my life was completely and utterly unrecognizable from what it is today.

As I sit daydreaming at my desk, I have flashes of turquoise water, white sand and gentle sun come over me. Maybe my brain instinctively knows that at this time last year I was sitting on a beach in Miami, Florida, wondering if I should ever return to Colorado.

Why? Well, the current temperature on Miami Beach was 68 degrees and people kept telling us it was "cold" out. When we told everyone we were from Colorado, they asked "Why did you bring the cold weather with you?" Ha. Little did those bronzed Floridians know, there was still snow on the ground back home. Did I want to return to that? Hell no.

At that point I was not working full time. I did not possess the financial security and 5-day a week time commitment to something other than my daughter. LB had not been introduced to the universe of daycare. I held a part-time "Seasonal" job as an Imaging Technician, where I worked 12 measly hours a week while LB stayed with her daddy.

At that point I was still wearing a ring on my finger. A diamond ring that had seen the ruin of Louisiana, crack motels in Lubbock, Texas, the roar of the Aztec Speedway, the redrock of Lake Powell, the Santa Anas of Long Beach, California, and most recently, the molding, deteriorating carpet of our misshapen cabin in Mancos.

After I came back from Miami, I never slept on that carpet again. I never slept in that house again. I didn't even unpack my bags when I got home. I just took my daughter and left with the words "I think we need to take a break," echoing behind me.

Though I didn't realize it at the time, that was the day my engagement ended.

3 weeks later, I started my present job and managed to find a daycare slot.
4 weeks later, I had my own health insurance for the first time.
1 week later, LB had her first birthday.
2 months later, I received my first raise.
3 months later, I donated eggs to a couple in need.
1 month later, I moved into my own place.
1 day later, I pawned my engagement ring.
1 month later, I filed for child support.
3 months later, I have a child support order.

In 2 more months, I will have a 2 year old daughter.

Did I really survive it all?

Where were you a year ago?

Tuesday, April 22, 2008


LB is officially in undies at daycare. She had two accidents yesterday, but otherwise had a pretty successful day. I don't want to shoot myself in the foot with any glowing expectations, but I think she's about 75% got it.

I'm thinking of throwing a potty party once we are in the clear. I intend to make all my friends wear potty crowns and embarrass them thoroughly.

Oh P.S. If you're gonna lie about how much you make on the child support worksheet, at least rig it so your payment is realistic. LB's daddy (a roofer) apparently makes less than I do, which still works out to be more of a payment than I requested from him originally.

Yeah. I'm not expecting much. Good thing I can support my daughter and myself alone. That's how I roll.

Friday, April 18, 2008

I'm Back

So the reason I haven't blogged in a week or so is because blogger got stuck in the school district's internet filter. Those naughty high schoolers must have been blogging during class! SHOCKING! Unlike myself, who only blogs on her....ahem... lunch break.

This week has been to exhausting for me to blog at home.

My head hit the pillow last night at exactly 8:17. Why?

My grandma turned 73 this week and we took her out to dinner. Sadly, the distance between the restroom and our table seemed like half a city block, and since LB is in the midst of Potty Training Limbo, I was forced to haul her booty to the facilities every time she looked at me and said "Poop?"

How many times did she actually use the potty? 1 outta 4 times. Well I guess those odds a better than none, but MAN was I exhausted.

The 4th time she asked to go, I was like ughhhhhh. "You DON'T have to go!"

My mother almost bit my head off. "It is YOUR responsibility to take your child to the potty EVERY TIME she asks."

LB, high on "teesecake" and Ice "ceem" joyfully dragged my tired ass back to the restroom. She's learning how to jump, so walking is a whole new spaztastic experience. Whoa Nelly. I can't wait till she's jumping from the top step of the stairs.

Anyway, tonight I get to go out again. Yes, I actually get to be a real adult instead of a Potty Attendant. LB is staying with her grandma and I am taking my friends out for a celebration of sorts.

  • JL's grand opening is next Monday!

  • Jiji and Grady have set a date!

  • Curmudge and hubby have been married 2 years!!

So we're gonna hit Mama's Boy, which (according to my mom) is the new meat market for middle aged singletons and divorced Boomers. Maybe I can pick up an ex-hippie/doctor?


Friday, April 11, 2008


I've hit a rut with potty training. Its reached the point where LB likes using the potty, will tell me when she has done it in her diaper, she likes getting stickers every time she uses the potty, and will go pretty much every time I put her on there. She is happy with this progress, and so am I.

However, she still wears diapers, thus making her "accidents" a normal part of her day, and not really a big deal. The potty training regimen that daycare has provided for me, demands a complete ban of diapers all together. They even frown upon training pants (which I just spent $75 on), insisting I should go straight to thin cotton underpants that older kids wear.

Let me just say that they don't even make cutesy girly panties in 18-24 month size. I had to special order training pants in LB's size alone.

So last night, I took the plunge and put her in the brand-spanking new training pants. I made a huge deal (like the book tells you to) about having "big girl undies" and how awesome it was. LB liked them, but didn't really understand that she couldn't pee in them like a diaper.

I tired making her sit on the potty every 30 minutes, but I had the worst timing, failing to prevent an accident ALL EVENING. The new training pants were soaked, I was frustrated and LB was getting more and more upset as the night went on.

By the time I put he down to bed, she was clingy and whiny. She refused to lay down when I left the room. By 8:30 she was hysterically screaming. I don't even think she remembered why she was screaming. By 9:00 I could hear her going hoarse.

I sat downstairs, trying to ignore her. I kept running through the comments I received at daycare this week, "She had an emotional day" "She woke up from her nap crying" "She refused to eat breakfast" "She is sooooo sensitive!" and felt like absolute sh**.

I want my daughter to be brave and strong, not whiny and emotional. Am I turning her into a kid with issues already? Is she that kid who makes the adults roll their eyes, and not want to be around? Am I spoiling her? Do I give her too much attention? Is she destined to be one of those "only children" who can't share her toys or relate to other kids?

In 6 months, LB will be the same age I was when my sister was born, and I wish with all my heart I could give her a sibling. I wish she could have what my sister and I have. Sometimes I wonder if she is lonely, bored or not stimulated enough by living with only me.

Lets just say the "tough mommy" routine failed miserably by 1:30 am, since LB did not sleep more than an hour at at time after that, and I resorted to letting her sleep next to me. At 4:00 am, she no longer wanted to sleep in my bed, so I sat on the couch, holding her in a blanket, and eventually fell asleep sitting up.

Ugh I am spineless.

Thursday, April 10, 2008


Since its that time of the month, I get a free pass to drinking all the red wine I want, right? Well Lemme describe how ridiculous I am, right now.

I was an emotional wreck last night. Since I got my taxes back, I treated myself to some online purchases, and have been waiting for them for a few weeks. The housing project that I live in, as you all know is fairly new, and therefore has recurring problems with delivery drivers finding the place.

So last night, I was in the shower, drinking red wine(having put the toddler to bed, of course). I was feeling pretty sh**y, having dealt with a bad situation at work, one where I am forbidden to talk about, due to confidentiality, but basically it just so happens I get to see the evidence of my baby daddy's "responsible" parenting to his girlfriend's kids, and he hasn't seen his own daughter in 40-something days. And I deal with it on a weekly basis, but yesterday it was just too much.

Anyway, I get out of the shower and discover that there are two packages sitting on my welcome mat. Immediately I am elated, until I discover that one of the packages has been partially ripped open, and the training pants that I bought for LB have been rained/snowed on all evening.

Sob. Shake it off. Cry. Shake it off. Shake it off.

The next package is a pair of kick-ass designer jeans I bought off for a whopping $35.00 (marked down from $95.00). Now let me explain something, before you read what happens next. The jeans shopping options in my town are as follows:

  • Wal-Mart
  • JC Penny

  • Corral West

I no longer can buy jeans from the teen stores at the mall, because A) they fall apart and B) my C-Section Scar does not look good creeping up and over cooch-riders.

So I immediately pull the amazing jeans out of the bag and pull them on. I look in the mirror.

I have muffin top. I have camel toe. I have watermelons for thighs. My ass looks like it's screaming for help.

I lose it. I break down. I cry and cry and cry.

Its hilarious, because who buys jeans without trying them on first (well, besides models.) I NEVER do this. But I am sick of either choosing Mom Jeans or Britney Jeans. There is no middle ground. And of course I am ragging, so everything is overblown and dramatic and totally out of control.

So what do I do? I throw the jeans in a corner. I put in Jurassic Park and keep drinking.
Best decision ever.

Why? Cause T-Rex, he feels my pain.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008


My tooth hurts. Let me be honest and say that I haven't been to the dentist since my wisdom teeth were extracted in 2005. Yeah, a real FOND memory.

For all you lucky women who have decent teeth, after you get pregnant, that all goes to hell. My gums are shot. In pregnancy books, they have a term called "pink toothbrush", meaning that your gums have a tendency to bleed when you are pregnant, so teeth brushing is a yummy experience.

So I sucked it up and went back to the dentist, who informed me that I have 4 cavities. One on the right and 3 on the left.

Yay. Stupid Preggie Pops.

I sat in the dentist's office for 45 minutes yesterday, waiting to get my left side drilled, cause who wants BOTH sides of their mouth numb? And it was a good thing, because those 3 cavities on my left are starting to ache like a muther.

Sadly though, my appointment was pushing 3:15 and I had to pick up LB at 4:30, so I asked if they were gonna be done by then. Um, definitely not. So they filled the one cavity on my right.

My right side still hurts, and my left side feels like a toad is living in there and I can't feel it.

The dude next to me was getting root canal, so the doc was all "I'm writing you a prescription for Lortab, Ok?"

Lucky bastard.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Baseball Movies

Since I am no longer of the Bar fly crowd, my social gatherings tend to revolve around bringing the circle of friends (and their significant others) to the 825 sq ft space of my apartment.

The majority of my floor space is covered with LB's indoor climbing fortress/slidey-thing, compliments of Grandma. I keep telling myself I should move it upstairs into her room, but the monstrosity is more than I can handle alone, and considering the amount of sweat I worked up trying to put the damn thing together, I reallllly don't want to have to reconstruct it again.

Our last house party combined the following ingredients:

  • Homemade Egg drop Soup (compliments of Jijikero)
  • Garlic Thai Green beans (compliments of Curmudge's Hubbo)
  • Blueberry Cake (compliments of JL)
  • Red Wine
  • Keylime Breezes
  • A pouting pitbull
  • Michael Moore's Sicko
  • The omnipotent hotness of Will Smith in I Am Legend
  • A demolished kitchen.

Needless to say, it was a recipe for lots of screaming/throwing stuff at the TV, maniacal laughter, and well-lubricated conversation.

My EW noted that each year, at the start of baseball season, a studio or two decides to re-release an extended, updated, super goo-goo version of a classic baseball film. So, in our lushed state, my friends and I started proclaiming the best baseball movies.

I was shocked to find that not one of my friends had seen the movie Bull Durham, and they were shocked to find that I had never seen the Sandlot OR Field of Dreams. AHHH the horror! So our next get-together is going to be baseball themed, where all of us will fill the holes in our film education.

So what are the best baseball movies? Here are my personal favs:

A League of Their Own, 61* & Bad News Bears.

Monday, April 7, 2008

The solution to Unwanted Pregnancy

So if were president, this is how I would curb the influx of accidental pregnancies. Please feel free to throw peanuts, watermelons, grenades...etc..for my horrible immoral commentary on society.

I am a supporter of a women's right to choose. Obviously, how I could I grow up under a feminist regime and NOT support the women's right to choose? Anyway, I thought I was one in a million, since Roe v. Wade has reached its 35th anniversary, and all. I figured this was ancient history; a well-integrated fact in our society, something common place and familiar in our ever-progressing, technologically advanced world.

Negative. Oh Lordy no. Absolutely NOT.

After I had LB and joined a few Internet circles of mommies, I began receiving the "abortion poem." I don't know if any of you females have run across it, but it is the lowest form of emotional manipulation I have ever read. It is propaganda at its finest. Hitler would have been proud.

The "poem" stars a fetus (who would probably be voiced by Dakota Fanning if it were a child actor), who apparently can smell, taste, hear, see, talk and has highly detailed "knowledge" of the medical world around it at the tender embryonic age of 7 weeks. So this tiny (yet fully developed) Mini-me, basically acts out the final scene in Braveheart (you, know where they pull out his intestines one by one?), screaming in its high-pitched Dakota Fanning voice (ala "DON'T KILL HIM!" in Charlotte's Web).

Christ, if I could insert eye rolling here, I would. The worst part is that I have actually had other mommies post comments on how "traumatizing" the poem was for them, and how they cried when they were reading it. PUHLEASE. I really can't go into detail over the anger this sparks in me, mostly because it makes the female race look dumb. I don't care about your beliefs, but PLEASE don't base them off a damn email that was probably written by a polygamist middle schooler as a class project. Do the research, and make a conscious decision.

*insert feminist rant* So, since our culture still puts all pressure to keep unwanted pregnancies at bay on our daughters, mothers, sisters and all other females of a reproductive age, this is MY solution:

  1. Doctors are required to keep records on when males begin producing sperm.
  2. Once males reach the age where they are able to reproduce, begin a sperm bank.
  3. Castrate males.
  4. When that male decides he wants to have children, access his sperm bank and let him.

This way, people may have children only when they WANT them. Only when its planned. Women will never have to terminate an accidental pregnancy. Wow! A world without Abortion? How does THAT sound you hyper-religious Nazis? What about instead of threatening, shaming and scaring the crap out of teenagers with worthless abstinence talk, we actually go to the heart of the problem?

Everyone wins this way. And if you are thinking that kids will just run around having sex all the time if there was no pregnancy risk, ummm.....aren't they doing that already? What about STDs? there are still tons of those around to scare people, and maybe with the pregnancy issue of the the picture, then teens may have just a little less pressure to deal with, and may be more open to the thought of safe sex.

You know what else this would eliminate? CHILD SUPPORT DRAMA! Kanye West's "Golddigger"...uh uh. Not anymore. There would be no more "Ole' keep a ****** baby trick." Do you know how many stories I've heard that go like this:

  • Girl gets pregnant.
  • Boy wants her get an abortion.
  • Girl refuses (Gasp).
  • Boy runs from child support the rest of his life.

Yeah. GREAT situation to raise a baby in. My solution would END that scenario.

Ok, so its fascist and unnatural and immoral, and really just my own personal fantasy, but come on. How perfect?

Please post hate mail on my comments, its a free country, Yo.

Thursday, April 3, 2008


Potty training is going remarkably well lately, and I'm happy to say LB has ahem....done her dirty work 3 WHOLE TIMES in the potty. I'm practically salivating over the notion of NOT having to buy diapers anymore. My co-worker told me that once the kids are out of diapers its like getting a raise...woo hoo! Since I'm not getting any salary increases in real life, this will certainly come in handy.

Still, she is only 22 months (on the 8th) and I really don't want to push it. My daycare's potty training policy is that I am NO LONGER ALLOWED TO PUT HER IN DIAPERS. That's it. Cold Turkey. Only Undies from here on out. They told me to pack LOTS Of extra clothes, and they will reduce the mess by setting a timer and putting her on the potty every 30 minutes.

Freakin' Potty Nazis!

So I'm going to quietly introduce the daycare potty to LB and see if she starts using it on her own.....without installing their Potty Boot camp Program. I mean, are they going to yell at her if she suddenly wanders over to the toilet and uses it?


Speaking of butts. This morning, as I was getting LB dressed, I pulled off the cold, wet morning diaper and said "Oh wow kiddo, your butt is COLLLD! That's probably NOT very fun to sleep in!"

She grabbed her booty and said to me, quite proudly "MY BUTT."

Everything is MINE at 22 months. Can't wait till she actually TURNS 2.

Monday, March 31, 2008

In like a lion, Out like friggin Godzilla

After a week of 50-60 degree weather, complete with LB's and my first hiking trip of the year, I woke up this morning and yet again had to dig the ice scraper out from under the seat of my car. GRRRRR. Its now snowing, and I'm sobbing quietly at my desk.

Yay for Colorado, you BIG TEASE.
In other news, I took my POS to the car wash for some much needed R&R. I am ashamed at the amount of trash that I extracted from my vehicle. I found coffee-stained paperwork from my EGG DONATION, which means I have not de-trashed my car since early December. I won't even mention the goodies that LB had left crushed under the floor mats. It was obscene. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if anyone was looking at the utter pigsty I cart around everyday.
Also, my baby daddy's (who I haven't heard from in over a month now) sister hooked me up with a refurbished waterproof/freeze proof/shockproof camera that should be arriving tomorrow. I AM BEYOND STOKED. I kinda wish I had it this weekend, because the cataclysmic state my kitchen was in on Sunday morning DEFINITELY needed documentation!

Friday, March 21, 2008


When I was 12, I went to a sleepover where the activities entailed dancing to Whitney Houston's "Queen of the Night", eating pizza and cokes, and watching scary movies. Fun huh? Well it would have been fun, had the scary movie been of the normal "tween" scary movie selection. You know, Scream, Scooby Doo, House on Haunted Hill..those type movies.

What did we watch?

The Exorcist.

Ok so the effects are cheesy, its horribly dated, the subplots are kinda boring, but that didn't matter to me. All that mattered that night was a 12-yr-old girl (oh same age as me!) was possessed by the devil and raping herself with a crucifix. Hmmm didn't get over that for a decade or two.

Honestly, I started developing a phobia of young girls, since they always seemed to be vessels of evil in EVERY MOVIE I SAW. Another reason why I thought I would never have kids. Another reason why I was psyched to have a baby boy.

I wanted nothing to do with the entire mother-daughter horror that the Exorcist represents. I wanted to stay as far away as I could from that awful notion of uncontrollable fear that a mother has when she can't help her daughter.

Sadly, its something that all parents experience. Maybe not the extent of Exorcist proportions, but sometimes there is nothing you can do for your child. Each time LB wakes up and can't be calmed, I feel that fear. And even though I am a grown woman, each time I hear a scream from her room, I revert back to my 12 yr old self, feeling the blood drain from my face during that slumber party.

Last night was a quiet one, at least.

Thursday, March 20, 2008


After imbibing three Louises (margaritas) last night at the movie, I could have gone straight to bed. However, the red packaged dvds sitting on my counter proved too tempting to pass up. So I watched an episode of Big Love (how politically incorrect of me, after watching Thelma and Louise). Netflix sucked the rest of my evening away, and I fell into bed at around 11 pm.

I think I lay there about 15 minutes before I heard LB stirring. Whimpers eventually turned into wails, then screams. I entered the room and picked her up out of her make-shift bed, where she tearily demanded water.

She grabbed the cup so vigorously that it spilled down the front of her jammies, completely soaking both me and her. Oooh MAN did that piss her off. She morphed into red-faced, shrieking, rigor-mortis toddler as I changed her clothes. Afterwards, I tried lulling her back to dreamland, by singing her favorite song, but was halted with a throaty


Ok then.

For about 30 minutes she was inconsolable. The more back rubbing that was administered, the more it fed the flame. She pushed me away when I tried to hug her, she stood up in bed when I tried to lay down with her, she screamed "NOO" when I tried to offer her more water.

Finally she calmed down, completely out of the blue. No reason other than she probably was completely exhausted. I laid her down in her bed and sang to her, rubbing her back. Then I said my usual goodnight routine:

"Nite nite, I love you, I'll see you in the morning."

and from the blankets I heard

"I Sowwy Mama."


Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Colorado Department of Education ate my life

So I guess its pretty obvious I work for the school district by now, right? I was trying to keep it under wraps, but eh..I have bigger fish to fry. Its almost 2:30 pm and I am trying to squeeze a mini-post in between CSAP drop off/counting/packing/mailing/killing myself.. Yes I hate the CSAPs. I probably hate them as much as the kids who are forced to take them (Thanks Dubya).

Today is the day where I ask myself (ala Kevin Spacey in American Beauty) When did this become part of my job description? and ...Maybe we should all just sell our souls to Satan because its more convenient that way!

I am beginning to wonder if the CSAPs are convenient to ANYONE. Because as far as I can tell, its a pain in the ASS for teachers, students, testing proctors, administrators, UPS dudes, and us lowly Admin Assistants. Cause if I were to write an American Beauty-esque job description of what I do, it would look something like this:

My daily duties consist of picking up the garbage, sorting the leftovers, lubing the communication gears, fixing the potholes, making the cookies, and generally swallowing any task that the Giants of the School District do not have time to do, because they are busy handling much more important things. I have the staunch understanding that it is my job to make sure the streets are clear of all administrative debris, because if one of those Giants trip, they crush everyone under them. I provide the walker that supports the overburdened body of the Administration Building.
Wait, I think I can pull another metaphor out of my bag o tricks.....

So in honor of the most classic of all chick flicks, I say you have two choices tonight at the Abbey:

I'd like a Wild Turkey with a coke back, please.

A Margarita with a shot of cuervo on the siiiiide.

Monday, March 17, 2008


I looked at my calendar today and realized that I have 3 different meetings scheduled. Yeah, yeah, big whoop, I am an Admin Assistant, I schedule meetings. The only difference is this time I am IN the meetings, not just to take notes, make copies, get coffee, or to set up a conference call, I actually am presenting and discussing information. I actually serve a functional purpose other than secretarial. Wow. This means that I have knowledge and data that other people don't have. This means that in order for things to be accomplished, they need ME to move forward.

I know this is minor kudos, but it still feels good. It also makes me a little scared. Along with this realization, I have also noticed an increase in phone calls, emails, interoffice mail and other general communication that passes by my desk. I am now on two different committees in my district, and have started to dedicate serious time to my department's web page. The HR Director has informed me that he will be forwarding information on training for Notary Publics, and I should go ahead and order my supplies. AAaack.

An increase in responsibility is suddenly evident, and with plenty of district drama surrounding the hierarchical salary schedule, I don't doubt that there will be a rallying of Administrative Assistants in the near future. The question is do I want to take part in it?

As stressful as my job is, I like to keep a sense of levity by remembering that while I am sitting in my heated office, listening to podcasts, members of the facilities department are out there shoveling snow and pressure-washing graffiti off school buildings. Now THAT is a way to start your Monday morning, huh?

For every angry parent I talk to over the phone, there is a teacher out there who is physically breaking up a fight, a principal who has to search a kid for drugs, a school nurse who has to witness the effects of bullying, a counselor who has to report child abuse to Social Services, and a janitor who has 20,000 sq ft of hallways to mop before he can go home for the day.

Yeah, my job really isn't that hard.

Friday, March 14, 2008

The life of a restaurant

When I first moved to Durango in 1996,

this was the restaurant that stood across from the fairgrounds on north main. Lori's Family Dining had been running since 1971, and had also managed to extend a faction of itself to the Durango Mall.

Neither are still in existence. There used to be a bowling alley at the mall too, where kids could hang out after school. You used to be able to get a bite to eat, shop, go bowling and even have a beer if you wanted at the Durango Mall. I wish I could say that's still an option.

Nope, not anymore. They have also demolished one of the few remaining Drive-In Movie theatres left in the USA. Check off another activity for kids. Eh, kids are a pain in the ass to deal with, right? Why should we give them choices of fun things to do, when there are plenty of Meth Dealers in the La Plata county region? I'm sure these people could find things for kids to do. At least they wouldn't be hanging out around our local business and bothering the paying customers. Ugh. I mean what do people expect? Keep taking away kid/teen-friendly places to hang out, and replacing them with condos and other more lucrative business ventures, and you are asking for a f***ing problem.

Lori's eventually turned into Delaney's, a similar restaurant (American-style, down-home, chicken-fried-steak place), which was decent enough. Then Delaney's went out of business and was replaced with a horrendous restaurant called "Pickles." Ok so I only ate there once, but it was awful. I didn't even try the fried pickles. After Pickles kicked the bucket, it turned into the "Kettle" restaurant and pancake house. That has lasted for about year or two, but just yesterday I noticed that the whole restaurant has been repainted and the sign now indicated that a Chinese restaurant is moving in.

Christ on a cracker. Its exhausting, and I'm not even a business owner. But it makes me wonder how someone can keep investing in this place that seems to flop every restaurant that is housed there. Do people think that there is something soooo special about their menu that it will flabbergast the public and kill the competition? I think the property is jinxed. I wouldn't open a restaurant there if I inherited the property tax free. I think it needs to be bulldozed.

.....and replaced with a bowling alley.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Compare & Contrast

I am writing this in honor of my friend JL, who is on the brink of opening a brand-spanking new scrapbooking store in Durango.

She and her mom have been putting every waking moment into renovating an otherwise demolished back room of their auto parts store. They have turned grease stains into polished floor, ugly cement walls into shades of Tinkerbell green and Heffalump purple. Fuel pumps and carborators have been replaced with metallic pegboards and handpainted shelves. Soon stickers, glitter, books and paper in every color of the rainbow will burst through the doors on opening day, making a bright spot on College Drive.

Honestly, I think the amazing transformation from a testosterone-charged, spit-shine parts store into kistchy cellebration of female-driven embellishments is quite poetic to say the least. I commend my friend for pursuing her own interests under the harsh gaze of the elder traditionalists in her family; the ones whose daily exchanges consist of grunts between mechanics. I look forward to watching the mechanical grunts morph into girly gushes.

JL has been feelin' the heat, so to speak. The pressure of running a small business in a small town, where all the owners have been linked since the establishment of Durango, and criticism is never absent, is starting to rise its ugly head.

She wrote about being bombarded with questions today: When is your business opening? What kind of stuff are you going to have? ME WANT DETAILS, DETAILS, DETAILS. I'm sure she is getting comments like "Well, you know, at the Scrapbook Cottage, they had THIS there.." and "You should DEFINITELY have the same stuff, ALL scrapbook stores have THOSE THINGS."

Yuck. Unsolicited advice is always uncomfortable, but it can be used to your advantage. Getting people's opinions on things may throw you off balance, but it also re centers yourself in the world. It reminds you of why you are different and what you have to offer that others might not.

When I was pregnant (which is the time of your life when you will get the MOST unsolicited advice), People felt obliged to HEAP their opinions on me, and I was expected to absorb every word with a demure and grateful demeanor. People told me ludicrous things like I shouldn't OPEN DOORS, drive down dirt roads, hang around pit bulls. I got serious looks of pity and disgust when I worked my pizza delivery job, and eye rolling when I told people I wanted to have a waterbirth. I got looks that said "Oh great, ANOTHER hippy is bringing a granola crunchin, non-immunizing, dirty, barefoot child into the world."

Damn straight I was.

Opening a business is kinda like having a baby. I mean, you make plans to have it (well if you aren't me), you prepare for it, you make sure you know everything you can know about how to take care of it, and then you welcome it into the world. And when people criticize it, and compare it to other babies you are heartbroken and angry when yours doesn't "meet" the standards people have.

I have complete confidence in my friend. She is smart and level-headed. When I suggested that she get her liquor license and have the world's first scrapbooking bar, she simply laughed. Another reason why I would be a shoddy business owner.

So Hang in there JL! I we love you and will be there at your grand opening! Yay for the Scrapbook Nook!

Wednesday, March 12, 2008


I got home from the vile daycare parent meeting (a whopping total of 4 attended!) last night with the full intention of going to bed as soon as I put the toddler down to sleep. It became clear to me when I could not break from the Vulcan-death-grip she had on my neck, that she was NOT going to slide peacefully into dreamland.

I guess this possibility didn't occur to me 3 hours earlier when I let her eat an entire Wendy's Frosty, and watched her run in circles around the daycare, giggling maniacally. Hmm. Good Job Mommy.

So even after a full musical revue of Mary Poppins, Annie and the Little Mermaid, she still was whimpering "mama, mama, mama, mama." whenever I started saying "Goodnight." By the time 9:00 pm rolled around, I was mumbling through "Part of your world" with my head on the bar of her makeshift crib (foldable playpen). I finally said, "Ok, mama needs to go take a shower. Nite nite."

I Left the room under severe screaming protest, but I was done for the night. I was literally falling asleep in the shower. Once out of the shower, I should have gone directly to bed and passed out naked under the covers, like the good ole days. The days where I didn't care if I woke up with a rats nest in my hair, or unbrushed teeth. I didn't care because I was able to wake up 30 minutes before work, throw my hair in a ponytail and run out the door with a toothbrush in my mouth.

Now I brush my teeth before bed, comb my hair, do the underarm dove treatment and get into Pjs. Then I make sure the door is dead bolted, see that my cell phone, work ID, car & work keys, chewing gum, debit card, spare diaper and glasses are all safely in my purse (everything else is expendable). Then I make sure all the lights are turned off downstairs, try not to trip over LB's potty (which she has filled with cat food) and grab any dirty clothes that are lying around.

Once I am upstairs, I walk into my room and look at my bed. Then I look at the computer. Look at bed. Look at computer. Turn on computer. Sit at desk until midnight, checking email, instant messaging, chatting, watching youtube, checking myspace/facebook, reading forums on cafemom, winking on and downloading music. Am I still falling asleep? Yes. But somehow I don't care as much.

So that fact that now I am a cranky, overtired, uncooperative, leave-me-alone, excuse for an administrative assistant mess, is REALLY my own damn fault. Instead of doing the right thing last night, I selfishly pursued my own indulgences. I insisted on ME time. After spending the day doing everything for everyone else, I sacrificed precious sleep for those few delicious hours of electronic narcissism.

Sometimes when I sleep, I dream that LB is screaming, and I sit straight up in bed like a freakin' Zombie. Silence. 30 seconds later? A wail from her room. Pretty much describes what happened last night. Every hour on the hour.

The third time I jerked myself out of sleep, my thoughts were no longer on LB.

Oh no.



Oh P.S. If I have to scrape my windshield in the morning one more time, I am going to go postal with the ice scraper.

Monday, March 10, 2008


I've been scouring the Internet for new blogs, since most of my links are close friends and other parents I've been reading for a while. However, I feel a little lonely as the only single mom on my blogroll. Where are all the single moms hiding?

Here are some good ones out there:

Ms Single Mama
Mama Cum Laude
Mommy Pie

Oh, and here are some additions to the Great Single Mom Movies that I totally missed.

Riding in Cars With Boys
Soul Food
As Good As it Gets

Also, I ran across this preview the other day, and its about a single mom, but its a little creepy looking. Its like Obsessive, crazy single mom movie, but hey, its directed by Kevin Bacon. What did I expect? I'm thinking about netflixing it, cause I dearly love Kyra Segdwick, but I don't know. What do you think?

Friday, March 7, 2008

Worth it

At least I know when I have a stressful day at work, I get to see this face when I pick her up from daycare. Kinda makes all the parent yelling, invoice altering, email responding, message deleting, fax sending, purchase order requesting, student ushering, meeting organizing, gay friend calling, baby daddy ignoring just.......disappear for a minute.

I wub ju Widdle Boo.

oh and TGIF.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Progress without change.

Last night my mother admitted that she considers herself happy because she no longer wakes up in the morning wondering if there is a point to getting up at all. Lord. How much more Canceresque can you get? Is there are more depressing definition of happiness out there?

I told her "I think you should raise your expectations a little bit."

I also told her she isn't happy because she lets stress control her life. She is stressed about my grandmother's mental and physical health, she is stressed about my dad and his mid-life crisis which has blossomed into full-blown delusions of a Brazil-like Utopia. She is also stressed about my life, LB's life and the ever changing baby-daddy-drama. And on top of that she is stressed about her job, where she has recently been promoted, which means working 10-12 hour days.

What I don't understand about my mother is the fact that she is a hard worker, and does very well at all of her jobs. I don't think I've ever seen her NOT fully engrossed in a job. When she wakes up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep, she usually goes to work. If you hated working so much, wouldn't you turn on a movie, or listen to some music when you can't go back to sleep?

She is stressed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I only see her relax when she has a glass of wine, or sings with my dad. I think she needs a change. And I'm thinking that change means letting go of my dad as her primary responsibility. It means finally sucking it up and getting a divorce. It means letting him fend for himself, and if he wants to move back to the Land-of-Wonderment (Brazil), then let him go.

One of my co-workers made up a theory about parents in our school district, and I think it applies to all walks of life:

People want progress, but they don't want change.
I'm beginning to think its true.

Monday, March 3, 2008

First Three CDs you bought.

I know this is going to be an obsolete post in a few years. By the time my daughter is old enough to own music, the CD may not even be around. Hell do 12 yr olds even buy cds or do they go straight to iTunes and download mp3s?

Anyway, I thought I would challenge my fellow bloggers to a slightly less time consuming meme. What were the first three CDs you owned and what were your favorite songs on them?

Extra Credit Challenge* What about cassette tapes? hehe.

CD # 1: Tuesday Night Music Club by Sheryl Crow. How eclectic. Since CD players really we're affordable for my family until about 1993, I think I was eleven when my dad gave me this CD for Christmas. I didn't even have my own boom box, so I'm assuming the reason my dad purchased this for me was that it had to be played on the "family" CD player, and it had to be appropriate for my 9 yr old sister to listen to. Apparently the lyric "I like a good beer buzz, early in the morning" is totally fine for a 9 yr old to hear. Gotta love songs about Chronic alcoholism.

CD # 2: Throwing Copper by Live. At 12, I actually purchased this album with my own allowance money. My dad worked a music store at that time, and he gave me a catalogue of every album they stocked. I remember flipping through Rob Zombie Sheet music, and being a little disturbed by the overtly sexual artwork, mostly involving clowns, corpses and nurses. Creepy. I had also purchases a Boom Box, so I could blast "Selling the Drama" at my leisure, but my most favorite song really was a toss up between "Lightning Crashes" and "All over you." *Sigh* Your love water....

CD # 3: Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morrisette. At 13, I was officially ready to be angstified. I mean come on, I was practically groomed for angry female rock. However, I was shocked at my mother's prudish reaction to the line "And are you thinking of me when you F*** her?" Where's the feminist love? What a great title feels so good, swimmin' in your stomach....

Extra credit: Gloria Estefan's Miami Sound Machine was the most memorable cassette tape I can remember. Especially since it accompanied my pink portable tape player with the shoulder strap. The Rhythm is gonna getcha.....rhythm is gonna getcha..


Friday, February 29, 2008


I get a lot of inspiration from the blogs I read. In other words, I steal a lot of people's ideas. Mostly because when there is an interesting Meme going around the blogosphere, I'm not interconnected enough to get tagged for it. So what do I do? Take the meme and spread it through the 4 person blogworld that I am connected to. So here is the most recent meme I wanted to partake in, stolen from Los Angelista's blog (who HAS commented on my blog once or twice!).

You, from A-Z:

A- Agnostic. Having been exposed to many different belief systems, including the Quakers, Christian Science, Southern Baptist ministries, Catholicism, Seventh Day Adventist, Paganism, Atheists, Buddhism, and random other assortments, I am currently in limbo as to what I believe. I think that as human beings were are naturally curious about things, and are constantly in search of answers. I used to think that people made up the existence of an afterlife, or some God-like entity in order to cope with the pain of unexplained tragedies, and to quell the fear we have about what happens after you die. I still believe that many of the details and rules of each religion are human-created and irrational, but there has to be an explanation as to why so many different cultures have been fascinated and devoted to the idea of a higher power. I pray/meditate sometimes, though I still have some questions as to WHO or WHAT I am praying to.

B- Breasts. Ok, I know, TMI. But honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, they have been a defining part of my persona since I was about 11 years old. They have been a source of torture and humiliation, personal hatred, and complete embarrassment. I think it was described best in Reviving Ophelia, that the day a girl realizes she is no longer a just a kid, but a sexual object, a period of mourning begins, that no one ever acknowledges. The day I discovered that my breasts were not something I wanted to hide, but served a useful purpose, was a great day in deed. Thanks LB. Thanks for appreciating the boob juice.

C- California/Colorado. The love/hate dynamic that revolves around these two entities, is almost as interesting as the love/hate relationship between Colorado and Texas. Since I was born in California and have ended up in Colorado, I try to minimize this fact as much as I can. We Durangoans have the perception that Californians move to our quaint little town, find the most pristine cliff with the most gorgeous view, and subsequently build a 3400 sq ft Pink Mansion on it. Which is not to minimize the Texans who haul ass into town, driving the biggest, yellowest Hummer, and shoot all the protected wildlife they can get their paws on. AHHHH gotta love it.

D-Daughter. I am one of two daughters. There were no brothers in my family. My mom's brother has only one daughter. My dad's sister has one daughter. I only have 3 cousins, and I don't really know the male one. When my cousins got together with my family, it was like I had two extra sisters. We are family of daughters. Now I have my own child, continuing the cycle of daughters. Oh, and that Pearl Jam song is really good.

E- Egg Donation. This is a term I never thought would come to identify me, but it has. I'm proud to have helped a couple become a family, not to mention sticking myself in the booty while looking over my shoulder in a mirror is quite a skill to have mastered :P

F-Feet. I know lots of people (mostly city people, I've discovered) HATE feet. They are sweaty, misshapen, stinky objects that touch a most disgusting entity: the floor. Some people quiver at that thought of the germs traveling from the floor to their feet. I'm not one of those people. I was the kid who was barefoot 90% of the summer. Having spent the first half of my childhood on the Orange County beaches, and the second half running through the rolling hills of rural Vermont, I was shoeless for the majority of my prepubescent life. I hate socks with a passion. I refuse to wear socks around the house. If my shoes are coming off, so are my socks. I would rather have icicles on my feet than wear a pair those sweat-catchers. I also think I have rather attractive feet, hence the reason I own so many strappy sandals.

G-Gypsies. I've moved almost every year of my life. Most of my past is still in boxes.

H- Hippies. Skinny-dipping in hot springs. Tabbouleh, hummus, carob, lemongrass, patchouli, sage, phoney baloney, fakin' bacon, tofurkey. Sewing triangle patches into the leg of my jeans. Playing hide and go seek in fields of....well, I found out LATER in life.

I-Inquisitive. I remember asking "why" a lot. It infuriated everyone, and I think a lot of people thought I was extremely rude for asking. In high school, I used to hound my best friend for every piece of information I could. She always did whatever she felt like, and I was intrigued by this. In my family, you were held accountable for everything, so I was used to producing answers. Jiji finally turned on me one day, saying exasperatedly "THERE DOESN'T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE REASON FOR EVERYTHING!" I finally have come to understand this, thank GOD, its a weight off my shoulders.

J- Jolly Rancher. My favorite quote used to be: "Happiness is a fruit punch Jolly Rancher." Deep huh?

K- Kitsch. A word I learned in college while studying media criticism. A word I began to hate, since it only made me realize how insane we are all making ourselves over what is considered "good" and "bad." What is considered worth while, and what is just a load of crap. This word also entered into many a late night Denny's conversations on what was "art." Those conversations usually led to endless cups of coffee and the sun eventually rising without any sort of resolution. What a waste of time.

L-The Lorax. This is the only Dr. Suess story that my parents really pushed on me, though Horton Hears a Who was a close second. "I am the Lorax, and I speak for the Trees!" Ah yes, the Hippie in me will live forever.

M- Musical Theatre. During my high school career, I was in Annie, Grease, The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, Damn Yankees and a crappy Grease-rip off called Ducktails and Bobbysox. By the time I got to college, I was informed that Musical Theatre was for complete Tools, and that if they heard another song from Rent, they would dig out their ear drums with wooden spoons. One of my film professors told the class "How dumb do you have to be to a Musical Theatre major? There is ONE street where you can get any work."

N- Navajo. Jiji's mom is Navajo. Jiji's middle name is Nizhoni, which means beautiful. Durango is about 60 miles from the Navajo reservation. It is the largest Indian Reservation in the USA, and it is also the poorest. This is due in part to the refusal to build casinos on tribal land. In high school, one of our student teachers decided to start the class off by speaking to us in Navajo. I thought that something was wrong with my ears. If you really want to understand the complexity of the Navajo language, click here.

O-Orion. This was the name I was going to give to LB before she was born. This was also before she came out as a girl instead of a boy. In utero, LB was a head-down boy named Nathan Orion. In the flesh, she was a speed-demon girl who decided to go feet first down mama's birth canal three weeks early.

P-Pisces. Obviously.

Q- Quiche. Just another dish made with my most hated of food: Cheese. I can honestly say that I have never eaten quiche in my entire life.

R- Rally Cars. I like driving fast. I no longer do much of this, due to a very small person in the backseat, but I definitely had a phase were I wanted a race car. I was a pizza delivery girl for a good amount of my late teens/early twenties, and I prided myself on getting where I needed in record time. It was also at this time when "The Fast and the Furious" and "Gone in 60 Seconds" hit the big screen. I owned a Volkswagen Jetta, and managed to send it into a 180 degree turn while driving over a mountain pass. Maybe it was a good thing I never had anything faster.

S- Single Mom. Another thing I never thought would define me, and now gives me a sense of pride.

T- Techno, which led to Trance, which led to Club Music, which led to trying to DJ on my own computer. Which led to spending most of my leftover paycheck on downloading new tracks. Which will probably not lead to a lucrative career in music, but makes me happy nonetheless.

U- Unconscious. Dreams. Psychology. Hopefully I will go back to school and get my Masters in something related.

V- Vagina Dentata. OMG have you SEEN the previews for this?

W- Winter. I was born in the winter. If you compare the seasons to age, winter is the last stage, the end of one year, and the preparation of rebirth. Those who are born in the winter are supposed to have an "older" mentality. They are supposed to value introspection, theories, philosophy, analysis and deep thinking. They are supposed to have a somewhat darker look on life, but also one of peace and acceptance. Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac, so I'm supposed to be the equivalent of a 90-100 yr old (as far as my philosophies go).

X- Xander Cage. Triple X. Vin Diesel. Had a crush on him at one point. In film school we always debated on his likability being based on how ambiguous he was, as far as race and sexual orientation. All my gay friends agreed.

Y- Yo. What my basketball coach called me.

Z-Zelda. The first video game that made me throw the controller at the screen, after numerous attempts to beat it. I never did. It shall always be my nemesis.

Thursday, February 28, 2008


As the snowbanks around Durango continue to wither into slushy pools, every one's mood is likewise improving. Even my toddler has returned to her normal, bubbly self.

Today at daycare she showed me her favorite, almost completely demolished book, and told me "Dat Kis-fer Robin has hunny for Pooh and Pig-et!" Her fragmented sentences are getting longer, and I'm having trouble keeping up. She likes counting too, except she usually gets carried away at the number 4, and starts excitedly shouting, EIGHT, TEN, SEVEN, TWO, ONE!

She also has started posing. When a crowd surrounds her, she pretends to be shy for about 3 minutes, hugging my legs demurely, then I swear to god, she starts batting her eyes. Then cracks a grin. She will continue this act, until I can't handle the ridiculousness anymore and put a stop to it.

Ye Gads. I swear there is a little Leo in her :P

Another symptom of Durango Snow-Melt Syndrome is the unleashing of yard sales and weekend grill parties. As soon as grass is visible, and temp is above 50 degrees, you will start to see carboard boxes on street corners, depicting where the sales are. If you walk around your neighborhood, you will hear the communal barking of dogs, the sound of hissing burger meat, and the clinking of Ska beer bottles.

Yes, there may be snow on the La Platas until June, but by god, the people of Durango shall not be denied their yard sales and barbecues!

Gotta love how all the Marquees around town no longer display "Think Snow." I'm half expecting them to read "Think MELT" in a week or two.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Higher Education

I had dinner with my 3 best buds last night, plus Gemini Toddler Boo. Thankfully no Sombreros were involved, but I did manage to successfully jack my daughter up on fried ice cream, in true birthday celebration.

Out of my Leo Friend Circle, one has completed her BA in English Education, and has been a certified sub with the Durango School District. Now she is in the process of opening her own Scrapbooking business, completely following her heart and happily sprinting away from her former life as a teacher. Opening a business of any sort is risky, and in Durango, it takes a wily and persistent owner to attain success. JL has always faced challenge with an admirable sense of cool confidence, which I am completely in awe of.

The second Leo chugged away through college, almost non-stop, taking summer school classes and working sometimes 3 jobs at a time. She graduated with an English degree and slid easily into a high-stress, low-respect, kick-your-ass government job. Now she is chipping away at a Masters, while climbing the professional and political ladder. She also may try to squeeze a trip to Germany into her classes, which all of us have agreed is slightly crazy, but oh so impressive. Yeah, and you wonder why her lung collapsed?

The third Leo, who has always been my close companion in the eccentric, kooky, slightly-off artistic world of movies, books, video games and music, took a long break from college, after experiencing a truly horrendous first semester. She now is completing her BA in graphic design, and loving every minute of it. She has been sketching for as long as I've known her, and its truly amazing to see her talent blossom into exciting career opportunities.

As for myself, I was the solo out-of-state college girl. At 18, I was about as disillusioned as a teenager could be at the thought of higher education, but when one of the most exclusive private film schools accepted my application, I didn't have the guts to tell my mother I didn't want to go. I was tired of moving, I was tired of schooling, I was tired of getting good grades, and I didn't want any more of it. Having the backbone of a true Piscean fish, I sucked it up and headed to Boston.

Karmatee describes the world of Media image in her most recent post, and I can affirm that its all true. My friends who were Public Relation majors (I used to call them majors in the art of bullishit) told me that one of their professors had painted on eyebrows, because "self- presentation was the most important aspect of Public Relations." My friends learned absolutely nothing in that class, since they were too busy laughing hysterically in the back row at how freakish her eyebrows were.

Sadly, we were the minority in this opinion. The rest of the PR Army at my school marched around the city looking like mini-Katie Courics. I mean what 18-year-old wears pearls and power suits? I don't know about you, but I went to 7 am classes in PJs, holding Dunkin Donuts to my lips. Thus continued my quiet disillusionment of the education system.

None-the-less, I received my diploma, just .4 short of a Cum Laude, bearing the established badge of Emerson College: Batchelors of Arts in Media Studies. Over the course of 4 years, my field of study dwindled from a double major in Film and Writing, to Film with a minor in Writing, to Film, to English-Communications, to Media Studies.

My favorite classes were creative writing and media criticism, which I recieved my highest marks in. I can remember the best paper I ever wrote, arguing the homoeroticism of the movie "Fight Club." Other than that, I hated my classes, I hated my classmates, and I hated my professors at the complete lack of humanity in them. They were carefully oiling the gears of next generation of media greats, and I refused to comply. They were taking the joy out of art, out of expression, and the whole process made me ill.

Oh Woe as me! Poor Pisces! Et Tu Brute? I lived in LA for about a year and that was enough for me to realize I never wanted to go back. I didn't want to become part of the Hollywood machine. I returned home to my high school friends, and went down a different road.

But thats a completely different story.

What's your post-high school tale?