A little joke fer ya'

Rumsfeld is reporting to the Presidents' Cabinet. He says "3 Brazilian soldiers were killed today in Iraq."

The President says "Oh, my God" as he buries his head in his hands.
The entire Cabinet is stunned. Usually Bush shows no reaction what so ever to these reports.

Just then Bush looks up and asks "How many is a brazillion?"

Time is on my side

Today is my first day of unemployment. I have been very fortunate to have a writing gig for the last two years, but I just could not talk myself into being happy there another minute. Turns out, they felt the same way. It was U-G-L-Y ugly. It didn’t have to be, but people don’t always make choices I understand. As a good friend of mine put it, last week was like an episode of Survivor. Don’t believe a word your fellow castaways say, that’s not chicken they just served you.

Putting on my Think Positive Hat, I believe this is just the kick in the butt I needed to go back to the reason why I became a freelancer to begin with. I wanted to do project based work, not get imbedded in the every day politics and bullshit inevitable in most work environments. When I decided to freelance, I wanted to do more magazine writing, and focus primarily on marketing copy. So here’s my chance!

I am relieved, excited, and peaceful for the first time in over a year. I am sure that next week I will realize that I no longer have an income and that means I can’t shop at Byerly’s anymore or fly off to New York at a moment’s notice (after this one last trip in May, I promise it’s the last one…) and I am sure I will worry myself into the fetal position then. But today, I am cozy and comfy, curled up on the couch with my Buddy. The rain outside is like a cleansing, washing away the bad taste in my mouth, readying me for the next adventure.

Big, big sigh.

I have a sun burn

I was in Florida over the weekend, and it was hot hot hot. I was a good girl and slathered on the 45 in the morning. I waited the obligatory half hour before going in the sun. I wore a hat, I sat in the shade poolside. But I walked up and down the beach enjoying the cool breeze and comforting sun and returned with bright red feet and forearms. Now I am freaked out about skin cancer.

It’s cool here, which feels nice on my hot skin. But I have to say, I already miss waking up to a 12th floor view of the ocean.

Spring time in New York

Looking for suggestions for a hotel in NY. Anyone?

I am going with two girlfriends who have never been there, so I wanted to stay somewhere nice and centrally located. I've stayed at The Muse, and we loved it, but for this visit, I think it's a little too close to Times Square. Would also like to keep it under $300 per night. Not an easy task in the Big Apple.

Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Grrrrrrr

It's been a crazy day. There are explosions in Tel Aviv and buses careening off cliffs in Mexico and little girls killed for food by some psycho neighbor. I want to quit my job because I am sick of feeling like a second class citizen no matter how good my work is. And the damn dog next door barks through the night but I forgive him, it's his owner that needs to be put down. I am full of self doubt about my thesis and the little voice that says "who the hell do you think you're fooling?" keeps getting louder. I am sure this post is full of typos but I am bypassing my usual step of creating it in word first because that is just the way I feel right now. Dangerous. Edgy.

I am feeling like a tightly wound bundle of emotions and nerves and frustrations. When I sort it all out, I will display the threads here, one by one, and hope that all of you wise folks can help me.

Until we meet again. Off to bed I go in my fuzzy pink robe.

Let the festivities begin

My neighborhood is looking like a war zone. The area is undergoing some massive reconstruction that promises to raise home values and add character to our streets. True, some improvement is needed. The potholes on Arlington are so deep, several neighborhood children were seen wading in them after the last storm. And I suppose a new sewer system is always a good idea. But the planning and execution of this two-year project seems a bit off.

Now, I am no expert, but it seems to me that maybe tearing up EVERY STREET in a ten-block area is not the best way to go about it. Perhaps they could have attacked the plan one, maybe two, blocks at a time? No. Our neighbor, for example, works at the Como Zoo, which is four blocks away. This morning, she could not get to work by car! I shit you not. I’ll address the logic of driving four blocks to work at a later date. That is not the point here.

Also, they are still working as I type this. It is 8:52 in the evening. So on the first few beautiful evenings of the year, when we have our windows open to catch the breezes, what we are catching instead are a whole lot of sharp beeping noises and a thin wave of dust that coats the surfaces of our furniture, the porch walls, my skin.

I keep telling myself it will all be worth it in the end, but we are two days into the second summer of the project, and already they have busted a water main (leaving us water-less right in the middle of dinner time, sending neighbors into the streets in protest. Hey, at least we met some neighbors.) and have left the few remaining open streets so full of pebbles and holes so as to render them 4 wheel drive territory.

Sigh.

The heat is on

Tonight, I got a sliver in my hand. The little pains are the worst aren’t they? I was moving a wicker box and in it went, tiny and lethal. My husband attempted some minor surgery at the dinning room table, but alas, the prickly little bastard remains embedded in my palm. I cannot imagine having to pull one of those fuckers out of a child’s skin. They scream don’t they? Kids, not slivers. They cry and pull away and ask why you are hurting them, right? They scream so loud the neighbors consider calling Child Protection. At least, that’s what I did tonight. We finally had to give up, let it sit in my hand over night and soften. I am seriously thinking about taking tomorrow off.

On a more positive note, it is 73 degrees inside my house, and the heat is OFF! Windows open, breeze flowing through the rooms like a spring parade. David says there is a “freakin' gorgeous” moon out, but I can’t see it from this vantage point. I am going to trust him though, he wouldn’t kid about something as precious as the moon.

Sick in the head

Last summer, I got very sick. I won’t bore you with the details, but the short version is that they found a tiny spot in my brain. Mayhem ensued. Turned out, it’s probably harmless, and it was the tests, spinal taps, and gazillion meds on my bed side table that made me sicker than any little pea in the brain could.

During the ordeal, I was too sick to worry or even give much thought to what it could all mean. It’s amazing how Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs comes into play at the oddest times. When you are trying to keep water down or muster up enough strength to pick up the remote, you don’t have enough energy or brain power left over to ponder the meaning of life, or death. This is something that I found very interesting once I got well enough to be able to think again.

I have never been sick before, not like that. I had no idea what gravely ill people go through. And I was not by any means gravely ill. But I was surprised at the lack of concern I felt for my own health. Is it because I knew in my gut I would be fine, no matter what the x-rays were showing? Or is it really because I just didn’t have the strength to worry?

My loved ones worried, more than I knew. My husband fielded many phone calls each day. It wasn’t until after it was all over that I realized what I had put everyone through. I hope I never worry anyone like that again. Looking back, I realize, that at least in my case, it was much easier to be the sick one. Mentally any way. Because while I was busy hurting, they were busy imagining the worst. And I’d rather be puking up water any day of the week.

Have you ever had one of those days…

when you suddenly realize that you are living the dream? Except that it’s not really any dream you’ve ever had because you couldn’t have imagined that your life would turn out this way and you’ve certainly never done anything to deserve it? I mean, you’ve never played by the Rules or worked on making yourself emotionally available. You spent several years being the opposite of available, in fact. You did some things that were a little crazy and maybe not so nice and you found all that madness entertaining. And you piled up mistake after mistake in tall stacks on your apartment floor until you could barely squeeze your way through the front door, much less let anyone else in. And at some point, probably around the age of eight, you decided that being content was the same as being boring and you swore you would never be either.

Then, while you were busy being difficult and pained and dark, some nice guy with a quick smile wormed his way into your days and then your nights and then he just plain moved in. And it was annoying at first so you tried to explain to him that he didn’t know what he was getting himself into and that to be honest he was just too Iowa for you. But slowly, you started feeling something that was a little like a mild cold, but it turned out to be peace. And now you find your self spending this rainy Sunday curled up on the new sectional and laughing at the way the dog yawns, and to you, that is the best entertainment ever.