People, I GIVE UP. There is SO MUCH capital-c Crazy in my life right now, I don’t even know what to do with it. My apologies, this place was just starting to get interesting, but I have to stop and deal with Life. Life that is apparently intent on making 2008 the most complicated, depressing, aggravating, blood-pressure-through the roof, just go ahead and shoot me the face right now year EVER. I’ll be in Colorado for the next week or so, taking care of some of the Crazy. And I have so much good stuff to write about, too. Who knows, I may pop up anonymously…..if you recognize me, don’t give me away, ok? Thanks.
“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout.
Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain
And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.”
“In Greek mythology, Sisyphus (Σίσυφος) (IPA: /ˈsɪsɨfəs/) was a king punished in the Tartarus by being cursed to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll down again, and repeat this throughout eternity.Today, Sisyphean can be used as an adjective meaning that an activity is unending and/or repetitive. It could also be used to refer to tasks that are pointless and unrewarding.”
Me. The person who was put on this earth soley to be harassed, tormented, and generally given paper cuts with lemon juice by the entire universe. And to whine about it to you all, who are probably rolling your eyes and saying, lets see what’s on the local community access channel. To prove my point, I give you two stories from yesterday:
You’ll have to forgive me for the hubris, folks – I don’t normally a) cross-post to or about my work blog b) toot my own horn, but I have had way to crappy a year so far to not over-react about this. Seriously, I think the highlight of my day yesterday was my sucessful extraction of a hideously long, dark gray booger from Edie’s nostril. With a Q-tip. So you’ll forgive me for celebrating a bit. Right, onto the good news:
I’ve got two of my weddings in two different magazines right now! One of them is in here in the local society wedding section. This is the third of the weddings I’ve done that I was *aware* were published in here, but I’m fairly certain that there were others before I kept better track of who was publishing what. Incidentally, the couple featured were the ones from my “Chocolate good, wedding story bad” series- and yes, they did win their (absurd) court case and are happy and well and loving married life. Hooray!
The second is actually a four-page spread in the Southern California edition of The Knot and yes, it does have my information in it, and yes, I am SUPER EXCITED and would beg you all to go now, and buy it, but that would be silly. So I’ll just beg you to go to Borders and look at it instead. The cover has a pink square and a couple with two little fluffy dogs that look like Lhasa Apsos or Shi Tzus on the front. Pages 66-70, in case you were wondering.
Dropping by to partially break my Silence Fest ’08 – Suffice it to say that I’m busy, there have been loads of B.F.F.D. (big fat family drama) and things are not exactly getting less complicated by the minute. I tried to be vegetarian for all of a couple of weeks, but to no real avail. Scott is understandably relieved, seeing as my strict “no-beef-or-pork in the house” policy forces him to cook his own food if he wants to eat dead cow and pig. So that’s good news – not for the chicken and fish of the world, but certainly for my husband. Right? Sure. I may be able to partially fill you all in on the B.F.F.D., but that remains to be seen and will be contingent on the participants’ feelings.
For now, please rest assured that I have not:
joined a kibbutz
attempted to clone Fynn and Edie
finished painting my cursed kitchen (oh ya, that’s right, I suck!)
been abducted by aliens, OR
lacked for writing topics, no not in the least…(wink, that’s a teaser if I ever saw one)
Forgot about you all! Be back soon.
For now, I give you a quick “overheard” story, from the bus last week:
Ragged, possibly homeless, and definitely, pungent man: “I used to date this lady here (gesturing outside to friend in the direction of Montecito, where Oprah and Ellen and other people who use both their first and last names and are still well-known or famous live.) …..but she just got to be….too much. Her family were so rich they told her to pick out any spot in the country, and they’d buy her a house, just so they didn’t have to deal with her. She picked here, and she’s been here, driving guys like me crazy ever since.”
Fact or fiction? Who knows – One of the reasons I link/love/read/anticipate the next entry from Wide Lawns is that the behavior of the wealthy, rich, neaveau riche and the just. plain. loaded. is often times so strange as to beggar the imagination….but in these small, everyone’s-connected communities, the Crazy can almost start to seem…normal. Or at least, it gets to be so usual as to hardly be noteworthy. If I could interview a panel of any ten people who have been in the employ of any ten ‘typical’ households of this kind, the stories….well, they’d be endless! It’d be better than the Nanny Diaries! Hmmm….I really should think about that -as long as it was all anonymous, it’d be fabulously crazy.
The following was taken directly from an ad in Craigslist…. Continue reading
Guitar Store Guy: “Dude, I think you would be a good counselor or a therapist or something like that..”
Scott: Why do you say that?
GSG: Because no matter how off-the-wall or crazy things seem to be, you seem to be able to deal with all my absurd situations and keep a pretty even keel.
Scott: That’s because I’m married, dude.
I know. Sexy, smart, and totally hysterical. How did I do it?
Whingey, whiney, wankey portion (skip, unless you are…nope, just skip it, really, I’d feel much better if you did)
Sorry it’s been a little quiet around here, it’s just that I am trying to make this a positive place – well, for the most part. Barring my ability to make rainbow sherbert/sorbet/sherbet? (is it sure-bert, sher-bIt, sore-bay? someone please put me out of my misery about this canker sore of a word) out of cat barf, I try to at least inject a modicum of humour into my useless ranting. Thus far, I am not able to concoct a witty tale out of:
- my complete hatred for winter, rain, cold weather, my fat, a thousand topics of useless whinging, my continued struggle with starting and finishing a project (see: kitchen, bathroom, garden….or, face it, entire house).
- Nor am I seeing any hilarity in the fact that SOMEONE* managed to vomit gently warmed and softened kibble onto my bar area and on parts of a cluster of framed pictures.
- Or my new & improved “winter hours” of sleep, which last just long enough for the cats to pin me down, Scott to fling a limb onto me (waking me), me to toss and turn for a couple of hours, and daylight to break, at which point I lie in bed and try not to move, lest I be requested to start rubbing someones’ back.
- Or the annoying new trend in our house, which is for Edie to start spitting and hissing and making evil noises and fighting with Fynn at odd hours of the night and day. Which means that we have to do things like threaten bathing, and I don’t think that threats are effectively used against cats. Especially when the threats are issued between sips of
- Spending so much time in front of the heater I am surprised my posterior might have grill marks on it.
- Or Fynn, the worlds’ friendliest, sweetest, most dog-like cat I’ve ever known, almost attacking the DHL guy, and embarassing the ever-loving crap out of me, especially because the DHL guy that day happened to be black, and I probably look like some sort of crazed, semi-racist cat lady who teaches her animals to attack minorities. Which, for the record, not true! not true! couldn’t be farther from the truth! and is just fantastic, because the two of them also run to the door and grrrrrrrrrrrowl at the mail lady and the FedEx guy, who is our friend. I need a cat….whisperer. Actually, that last bit is funny. A little.
In short, I just must shut up, or hopefully one of you will come to my house and shoot me in the face with a bazooka, and put us all out of my misery. Boo hoo, off to eat worms now, Pity Party for One, extra martinis for all.So…how’s 2008 treating you all? Sorry you didn’t follow my directions up there, I’m sure. But other than that, really – please, tell me some good news, because I sure as hell could use it. And it’s just started raining again, I’m not even joking. Expletive!
“Ahhhh, ChewbACca, whatthehelll—-gahh….Sonuva–……” – Patton Oswald, impersonating Nick Nolte as Han Solo (This was a role he very nearly got, in case you were wondering. I ask Scott to do this impression about once a day, and I laugh every. single. time. You probably have to hear it, I realize. Just think about any movie you’ve ever seen with Nick Nolte in it, fast forward to the inevitable part where he gets frustrated, and poof! There ya go.)
I’ve just now realized that THIS YEAR IS OVER. It went by totally without my permission, and all I can do in retort? A year-end review…..I know, just what you wanted, right?
January-February-March-April: Sadly, this year will not be started like last year, with a jolly ten mile walk, nor will my January days likely be filled by an invitation to a pretty glamorous party that comes complete with free drinks and celebrity sightings. Despite my eternal gratitude to my sister-in-law for taking us to fabulous Las Vegas, I am more than a little bit thankful that we aren’t headed that direction again at this time of year. I still can’t believe it’s been an entire year since I was waiting to for Scott to be in his forties while I’m still in my twenties. Las we had our friends out for a glorious day of wine-tasting and juggled a Superbowl party-ette with a bunch of cat barf and my distaste for the 80’s/early 90’s fashion revival.
I re-read this entry in which I segued from office supplies to family planning just a minute ago. While I’ll freely admit that I have more than a few trepidations about turning into that Weird Old Couple who don’t understand anyone because they never had kids, I can just as freely say that all those reasons why we don’t? Still apply. Awesome.
Last March, my baby sister (Pamby) turned 21 (yesss!), we discovered that half a boat is better than no boat, the joys of eyeball tacos, and, as some of you may recall, told people who dump animals what I think of them. I also layed the groundwork for a rather elaborate April Fools’ prank on you guys (hee!) and was very, very proud of my baby sister for helping to rebuild in New Orleans. And was, as always, was a total smarta$$ – Seriously, this entry was originally called “Why I got smacked in the mouth a lot as a child.”
May started out with us feeling a little bit like the Beverly Hillbillies (happily, we welcomed Toto into our family shortly after this post), went rapidly downhill after the words “I don’t want it to get lost or peed on” were uttered by yours truly, was tapped by the irony fairy and was In June, I was once again amazed how fast time goes as we celebrated our seventh anniversary. Also I whined (shocking! I know!) about not getting Brownie points for deciding not to have kids. Oh yeah, and dispensed my best advice to coupled/married ladies yet ….at least I think so – we’ll see, right? June was capped off by a spectacular blue moon wedding, which was one of the many spectacular productions we got to put on over this year. Sadly, in July, I told a story about how sometimes weddings make people in the surrounding cast crazy as foxes, probably due to advanced sleep deprivation. In August, I managed to cover both home improvement and capture a tree on fire during a rain storm.
In September, I spent a fair-to-middlin’ amount of time worrying about my mom’s health (she’s fine now, thanks). In October…I lost a friend, but realized that with the help of a great team, a little luck and The Best Assistant Ever, I can do anything. In November, I turned twenty-eight, went to Disneyland with two of my favorite kids (and their parent/s) and almost lost another friend
….thankfully, he is doing much, much better these days. This month? I got a surprise visit from The SightSpeed Guy, unknowingly posted the same video on the same day as Heather, who is the undisputed Queen of the Internet partially painted my kitchen, and missed my family and friends, a whole big bunch.
There’s about a half an hour left in this year, so I will wish you all a very happy 2008. I’m going to go and check and see if we should start our way up the hill to watch the fireworks, or just watch New Years Rockin’ Eve with the cats. Because we live on the edge like that.
We have a long-standing tradition in our family of harassing my mom for her ‘selective memory’ (love you, Mom!), but the other day, the joke was on me. I was on the phone to my mom about nothing in particular, chatting about the last time Scott and I went to Colorado. I kept thinking and saying it was the beginning of this year that we stepped off the plane into the breath-taking, crystalline Aspen air. In actual fact, it was the beginning of last year, which puts me smack between laughter and tears at the thought that most of my twenties have evaporated without my recognition, much less my permission.
Even worse, it has been almost two entire years have passed since I’ve seen my middle sister (Roni). I talk to her a couple of times a week, we email each other all the time, we comment on each others’ MySpace pages. I could tell you things about her life, but I couldn’t say exactly how long her hair is now, or if she’s moved around her bedroom furniture. I don’t know if taken down the watercolor I painted that used to hang on her bedroom wall. At night, I bundle myself in sweaters and jeans and go on walks, call Roni or Pamby, curse the long-distance charges that put my phone bills in the triple digits.
She’s just left for Mexico with her boyfriend, I
hope know they’re enjoying their little break from the cold and snow together, don’t get me wrong. It’s just this little selfish streak that has me wishing they were up here, hovering around our living room. I can almost hear us teasing each other about all the things reserved for sisters and the few special friends who know each other well enough to fight at times. We’d drink champagne and eat tacos – actually, who am I kidding, my sister is the next Giada de Laurentiis*, she’d take one look at my kitchen, stamp off in a huff, and return with the ingredients for a proper meal. One made with more than six ingredients that are not garlic. I would not be allowed in the kitchen for the duration of her stay (best for everyone), except to make martinis. Kitchen appliances would be purchased….in short, it would ROCK.
So how did this happen? If I had an answer that satisfied me, I wouldn’t be wondering. Any family will do, really.
* for those of you who have somehow missed her – This is Giada de Laurentiis. She’s hot, but has an annoying habit of BEING SUPER SKINNY, despite all the food she appears to SHOVEL INTO HER GIANT HORSE MOUTH. Between you and me, I bet she’s got a bucket where she spits out two-thirds of the bites she takes on that show. My sister, in spite of having a similar fore(five) head, is about a thousand times more hot. I’d hate her for having a functioning metabolism, too, but we’re related.