Update on Cereal, Rosebud, and "The Mattress"

Chocolate Lucky Charms...not so good, too many marshmallows, and I dislike those in cereal...so why did I buy this again? But the milk afterwards is such a perfectly created chocolate concoction, so it's worth it.

Otherwise, it is Bailey's 5th birthday today. I know that I am not the only one to celebrate a pet's birthday...my friend Robin through a themed birthday party long ago for the now late Rosebud (sniff) complete with a full size cake and party hats. Bailey just gets to go on a car ride and to work with me for the day, and will probably score some meat from the kitchen staff.

This gets me to thinking about Rosebud, Robin's little pug who passed away two summers ago and now enjoys a nice resting spot on Kay and Dougie's farm. During my senior year, I lived with this dog and could hear her snore echoing through the vents in the house because my bed was "the mattress" on the floor in the middle room which nicely became mine for eleven months. Bud was such a popular dog that Lee's mention of her during his stroll down Homecoming Court in high school drew cheers from many. Upon arrival in Oregon for Robin's wedding in October of 2003, I put off asking where Rosebud was because she was nowhere to be found and I knew what that meant.

Now, "the mattress" gets me thinking too, but those thoughts will just stay hidden with good reason. Okay.....Anyone remember sleeping on this thing? Of course you do...the twin size piece of cheap foam and coils that was dragged from room to room, inhabited for long periods of time by Greg, Lee, and myself (thanks to our surrogate dad, Steve). Aimee would STILL get grounded by her mom if I say anything else, so I guess you'll just have to dig up the memories on your own for this one. Nothing was really ever over PG-13, but the drama and teen angst surrounding it all...now that's where the memories are.

Honestly though, that house provides a lot more stories to tell...7-11 at 3:00am...being hosed by Steve INSIDE the house on New Year's Eve...Deep Forest seeping through the vents during Greg's chill time...breakfast in bed complete with "Here's your syrup on the side bitch"...scores of "zero" in alley oop. How easy was our life back then?

Good, Not So Good

I feel the need to express my favoritism and dislike for various things I encountered this week...here's the good and not so good of the last week in February:

GOOD:

Tazo Calm Tea: I proudly announce my development of an addiction to something that is not sugar coated or caffeinated. Something about this stuff makes me go crazy when it's not in the cupboard at work, so I went and bought my own.

The Department of Human Services in Oregon...the FIRST company to send me a positive letter of possible employment. Not necessarily my ideal work environment, but they pay well and anything will do for a few months at this point. I'll take that "open recruitment" clearance and run with it!

24HourFitness at midnite: The vast array of machines available for my workouts and the lack of ogling muscle men is so great late at night. A plus that I can watch Conan while I am getting ready and then actually hear my iPod during the workout because the overhead booty music is turned down when there are only six people in the whole gym.

Movex: They'll drop a box in front of my house and then drive it to Portland and drop it in front of my house there for less than it would cost me to drive a big moving truck back to Oregon all alone (sorry if this sounds like free advertising, but I'm excited)! My fear of accidentally pulverizing a McDonalds off some exit along I-84 has officially ceased.

Warmer weather: No snow for over a week and absolutely beautiful blue skies. And then a clear sky every night for the full moon. Nice.

NOT SO GOOD:

"1/2 The Sugar" Fruity Pebbles...Of the eight (yes, eight) boxes of cereal that landed in my cart today, this is the first one I open. Where is that sugary film on the top of my mouth? Where is the fruity flavor reminiscent of burnt pixy stix? Here's to hoping the Chocolate Lucky Charms I purchased tonight for the first time too are better than this tasteless bowl of cardboard.

Flu epidemics: 25 kids at my school were throwing up in hallways, bathrooms, bedrooms, ugh! The thought that "we were next" had many of us walking around "mentally queasy" all day Thursday.

Early morning construction: It really irritates me to no end that they are building a house directly across the street from mine. My car is constantly covered in brown dust and the workers only listen to "My 99.5" which plays the same mainstream groups all day. Their power tools are also much too loud for my need to sleep in everyday until at least 11:00 am.

Alright, the Tazo is kicking in and I need to get to bed before the construction guys are out jammin to the big hits of the 80s and 90s again. I am glad that the worst thing in my life right now is minor sleep disturbance and bland cereal. Life can't get much better than that.

This Is What's Waiting

In the dwindling days that I have left in this state, I have consciously become a little less anxious and crazy, but I do admit to being ready to spend time with the people who really matter to me. I have some pretty tight groups at home, and it's easy to see why when they send me messages like these:

It is fate for you to be back here so I know it'll all work out...I am proud of you for following your heart and for learning from it. You are an amazing person...I wanted to write and let you know that I am so excited that you are coming home...I just knew that I could tell you anything and you would most likely feel my pain...I love you to death, Sarah. Thanks for being such a great friend for so many years, and many more in the future...I miss you so much...I support you in whatever you do...I am totally ecstatic that you will be back in Oregon for me to see more often. I'll be thinking about you a lot over the next while...I think that this is a really brave thing you're doing and the great thing is you don't have to worry about this being hard because you have the talent to make it a success...I love you!

So this reminder...Don't stress, only 7 weeks, 5 days and 12 hours left to go (approx)...has passed by a month now and all I can say is that I can't wait for the next 3 weeks, four days, and some odd hours to pass too.

Hmm...

Is it sad that I refer to Thursday as "my early day" because I have to be to work by noon, or am I just really lucky?

Play, Repeat, Play, Repeat

So I have had my I-Pod for about two months now, and I am still playing around with it. It is a great little invention, but also a little bit of trouble for a girl like me who likes to obsess over certain songs. I seem to be favoring the mellow side of life right now, I think in an effort to keep myself from winding into a crazy mess before mid March comes. Anyway, out of the 1000 songs I could be playing, here are the ones that keep showing up on my screen (thanks to my ability to keep selecting them):

Rain Song by Sunny Day Real Estate...Okay, new to me, but apparently a five year old song. Random, but love it.

As I'm Leaving by David Gray...Under appreciated except in the world of soundtrack producers. Maybe because of White Ladder's oversaturation in the US. This is apparently on Ladder 49. Did I see it, no. Is this a great song, yes. This song is a little reflective for me being "almost gone" from this place. (Utah, not life, phew!)

The Trapeze Swinger by Iron and Wine...I have two versions I bounce between. Props to In Good Company (which is a movie I highly recommend by the way). I am also partial to Naked As We Came being played at my funeral in 80 years by my mourning husband.

Brand New Colony and Be Still My Heart by The Postal Service...A crush worthy friend forwarded me the first one about a month ago and told me it should be my theme song for my upcoming move and I have kind of not gone a day without playing it and smiling since. The second one was a new find that reminds me about those feelings of wondering where the hell you stand with someone in new love. Frustrating excitement I guess?

Sundays and Holidays by Red House Painters...Why didn't this band ever make it onto everyone's radar? Oh I know, because their music is too good to be subjected to all the bulls#%t that ruins good music.

Angeles by Josh Kelley...I am pretty mixed on what I think of this guy's talent overall, but he sings the line "I hope I like the way you dance with me" and I like it.

Lonelily by Damien Rice...He is generally the most depressing artist out there, but this one is upbeat enough sounding to mask his disappointment and loneliness.

Unhappy by Big Boi (Outkast)...There is a line "When I found out that Santa Claus was nothing more than Vanilli." Genius. This one has a great flow, gets me home every night awake. If I am really struggling, B.O.B always violently kicks me into wakeup mode.

Some other repeats right now are Sunday Morning by Maroon 5, The Only Living Boy in New York by Simon and Garfunkel (I am still not over Garden State yet), Pain Killer by Turin Brakes (no one has heard it, but it's great), and a bunch of random songs by Matthew Good, this Canadian anti-violence dude. I also give the occasional love to DMB and Tom Petty. How could I ignore listening to Time To Move On in a time like this?

Cloning, No Thanks

I used to think that when my dog Bailey was close to his death bed, I would consider cloning him because I am so downright obsessed with him that I am willing to buy him health insurance, pay more rent to keep him, and I even take him to work with me on a regular basis.

A Texas lady recently dittoed her cat after being saddened by his death, and claims that the new Little Nicky is the exact replica of her old cat in appearance and behavior. This sounded ideal for me to replicate Bailey in the same way, but then I got to thinking...it's actually pretty creepy. I mean, hasn't this lady seen Pet Sematery? Doesn't she know that one night down the road, after Little Nicky realizes that he could have been up in kitty heaven rolling around in the catnip, he's going to slice her ankles from underneath the bed with his claws and then attack her when she falls to the ground and is screaming out in pain? Not only that, Little Nicky will realize that he's named after one of Adam Sandler's worst movies ever, and then he will REALLY be pissed off and obliterate the furniture. I'm guessing that to top it off, he will intentionally knock over a candle and burn the whole house down with his once doting owner still inside.

This makes me absolutely sure that Bailey would appreciate it if I just enjoy the good ten years I have left with him instead.

Mean Things We Did

So in high school, my girlfriends and I had this brigade we called the "Moo Crew." This crew consisted of an old piece of crap Datsun or something of that sort that had cow seat covers, a random assortment of my cheerleader friends and girls mad at exes, and a lot of eggs and toilet paper. We'd drive around late at night in the summer and do our dirty work. Occasionally, we would even score vats of solidified fat from Burger King (where oh so many of our friends were employed) and use that as our ammo too.

One great memory, which I wasn't even involved in because I decided to skip the last round of the night and send my visiting friend instead, was an attack on our friend's ex's house. We had already hit it once that night, and when a car load of girls returned again, the mother of the guy jumped out of the bushes and screamed, "Why are you doing this to us?" in full rage. We thought it was hilarious at the time, but damn, looking back...no it's still funny. That guy referred to himself as "Red Rocket" on his letterman's jacket. He deserved it.

Another time, we employed my fourteen year old brother to drive the car so we could all duck our heads and not be seen and ended up accidentally driving onto a golf course with the lights out on the car. I can't help but think this probably fed into my brother's future delinquency, but then again.

Another favorite place to hit, and this had a moral side, were the drive in strip joints and pornshops. We'd throw as many eggs as we could and speed away yelling obscenities and criticisms that usually included the word pervert in there somewhere.

So Horsemouth, Red Rocket, many exes, and all you nudie shop frequenters...we can't take back what we did, and you probably deserved it anyway.

Always a Packrat

Today I decided to go through the rubbermaids in my basement. I do it every time I move with the intention of getting rid of most of it, and I always find the most random things from my childhood like cereal box toys, elementary school awards, and memorabilia from my days in the Poison fan club (oh yes, I paid to be a member at twelve). I usually ditch about a measly one tenth of it in the end because I am a rabid packrat and find it all so hard to throw away. Here's what won't be going in the garbage tonight:

1) An "About Me" book from age 8 and 1/2 (because the half always mattered when we were that young, of course). There are tracings of my hand and foot that look insanely huge, but I do remember always being the tallest kid in school. I said I got sad when "My sister's a brat to me" and happy when "I go swimming." The best thing I think I found in this was the answer to the best thing that ever happened to me...it says "When I was born because I can live." I love how simply we all thought as kids. Everything was so matter of fact and appreciated.

2) This story I wrote in which I get left at grandma's because I am too young to go on the family trip to Russia. By the end, my parents sink and die on the boat that took them to Russia, and my twin siblings come to take care of me at grandma's mansion after she dies too. We all run around invisible and "live happily together." I am not sure if this was intentional foreshadowing to the insane bond my siblings and I had growing up, and in essentially raising each other, but it is oddly entertaining.

3) The ID tag and pictures of my cat who I had for ten years. He was a truly regal animal who would stare you down like you were the stupidest thing to walk the earth, but I loved him. Then my junior year, I came home from school and couldn't find Nicholas. In asking my mom where my precious pet was, I received the nonchalant reply, "Oh, I took him to the vet and had him put to sleep today...he was sick." Hey Nicky, sorry we never got to say goodbye.

4) A collage I made for an English project my freshman year of high school about my "Great Expectations." Some of the expectations have already been achieved, and not many of the others have changed except for my old diehard committment to only have koolaid at my wedding (but trust me, there will definitely be a pitcher of the blue kind sitting on the open bar for anyone who ever heard me promise it). It highlights my wants of a good husband and father for my kids, something I never had. There's a bit of my riot girl ideals on it that I used to preach to everyone, but even though I've shut up to some degree, I still agree with the cutouts that say No to violence! and Money Can't Buy Happiness.

Hmmmm, maybe I'll throw stuff out the next time I move instead. This stuff has a few more good years with me yet.

A Few Thoughts on My Dad

It's only been four months, and it's odd getting to know him because all I have are photos of memories I can't remember...me sleeping on his chest, us wrestling in the living room, him helping me to takes steps on tiny little feet. We both decided that there is plenty of time left to create memories that we will both remember though. Life is not that short, and I am glad that I decided to figure that out for myself.

Daylight's starting to bleed

I mentioned tonight to a friend that I hope that everything will fall into place for me when I get back home. I am kind of an anxious stressball when it comes to having what I want, when I want, how I want it. Not in a vicious way, but I like to have control of my destiny I guess and always have. Anyway, he pointed out that I have applied for a ton of jobs, done my homework, and even have a good housing situation in the works and almost set up. Then he pointed out...that's not hoping. It took me a few to let that really sink in, but now I can appreciate the comment.

I like these song lyrics that say, "Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight. You've got to kick at the darkness til' it bleeds daylight." This is how I think, but I REALLY think that I should get over the idea. I admit to having pushed aside a portion of my optimism and good karma thinking for the idea that being on my toes 24/7 is the only way I will get anywhere in this world.

But I think it is time to take the other advice my friend gave me too and just chill out for a bit. I know everything will be fine.

And The Greatest Creation is Cereal

Right now, I have ten boxes of cereal in my cupboard. I am scared that this will be what I decide to sustain myself on when I am living on my own again, because I just love it so much. While kitchen supply shopping today, I even bought the larger silverware set because I was genuinely concerned about running out of spoons before having to wash them (and I hate using huge soup spoons to eat my cereal). I also nixed a beautifully designed place setting because the bowls just weren't the right shape or size for my normal serving of delight.

This obsession has existed as long as I can remember. Most people know that having me as a houseguest requires space in their fridge for my gallon of fat free milk, and them being okay with random boxes of Reeses Peanut Butter Puffs and Fruity Pebbles lying around the house ready to attract ants.

Now, I do eat, and even enjoy healthy cereal too, always in the morning, and I even have some Kashi and Smart Start up on the shelf right next to my Captain Crunchberries. The one bowl of protein or bran heavy stuff mixed in with yogurt in the morning justifies my need to devour up to three more bowls of the rainbow variety before bedtime. And I wonder why I am up until 3 or 4 every night.

This makes me wonder how I would have fared as one of Seinfeld's dates. Would he have offered me another date because we shared a love of cereal? Would me eating a bowl of his most beloved box be the reason I didn't make it to the next episode?

Did you know that in the episode called "The Cereal" the object of Jerry's affection is in fact named Sarah? And she actually does get another date with him because he wants more Breaky Flakes from her father's company. Only he pisses her off and she storms away leaving him empty handed. Sounds like something I would do too. Not because he's a jerk, but just to have more cereal for myself.

"Patience is a virtue, and I want it now!"

This is a quote that sums me up pretty well at the moment. A college boyfriend used to say this a lot and laugh every time as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. But regardless, I am a little impatient at the moment. Most people have heard me in some capacity complain about this "lull" stage I am experiencing while waiting five more weeks for the big move.

For me, this creates a situation similar to being a bright eyed kid who sees the packages underneath the tree in the days before Christmas, but doesn't get to open them yet. I know what some of the wrapped marvels are because the shapes and sizes are so obvious. Others I think I have an idea about, so I'll shake them and run my fingers over them, but still probably won't know what they are until the day I rip them open. And then there are those packages wrapped so well and mysteriously that I will never guess in a million years that they are sitting there waiting to surprise me.

By the end of my move, when my living room is situated, the job has started, and the days are running smoothly, I don't think I will really care anymore about what I didn't find inside all the packages. I may be slightly disappointed when things I really hoped for never surface. But overall, I know I will be enjoying all the other stuff that unearths itself too much to care.

Honest Thoughts on the Much Needed Breakup

I pulled the plug on a 5+ year relationship a few weeks ago, and since then I have not had one regret or second thought about doing it. Maybe these are some of the signs that I would feel this way (and no, I don't think this is funny, just a reality check for what I will not let happen next time)...

1) After returning back to Utah from a ten day trip home in September, my boss asked me if I missed my boyfriend, to which I replied, "Well, I had a lot of fun," and to which I thought...no, I missed my dog more than him.
2) Hey Robin, remember "My Skin" by Natalie Merchant. I was relating to it waaaaay too much.
3) Likewise with any movie where the couple didn't make it down the aisle. Inside, I actually cheered for them.
4) I kept calling my friends in Oregon to cry to them about my need to come home...thanks for the support guys.
5) For Christmas last year, we bought a dining room table. This year, a computer. And Valentine's day...we hit the big REI sale. Now I love that sale too, but it's just not romantic by any means. So not romantic that the ex and I are actually going to it again this this year together to load me up with camping supplies so we both have our share when I move. Now practicality is not always bad in a gift, but I will never again have it be a regular thing.
6) The proposal received an answer of "I guess so." Then people had to call me to find out we were engaged. Then I didn't wear my ring on most of my last trip home...I clearly remember hucking it in a bowl of nuts one night actually.
7) "I love you" turned into "luv you" tagged on at the end of phone calls every now and then, but never those bonafide beautiful three words.
8) We never fought. Sounds good right? How about never arguing, communicating, or talking about anything that was wrong. You gotta communicate to keep it going.
9) I started to see girls as "potential future girlfriends" for him and was completely keen on the idea of setting them up dates.
10) You get the picture.

So it took a while for all this to commence into a breakup. Why? Who knows. We all hope for the best, try for the best. Then on occasion, we realize that the best is only going to come in the arms of someone else.

My boss, who is crazy but wise beyond his years, reminded me to remember what I did to help it all go south too. I totally agree with him. It's easy to get caught up in who fucked up the most, but in the end, what you do and don't take with you into the next phase will make or break that relationship too. Let's hope I am getting the idea.

Trust Me, All Clowns Kill People

Clowns are a creation thought to bring love and joy to many around the world. But that is a terrible terrible lie. Clowns are the scariest thing on earth, and trust me, there isn't a single one who hasn't killed some innocent little child, animal or unknowing 27 year old female at some point in their career.

This all started with Poltergeist. Why my mom let me watch that at age five, but need I even explain why, since 1983, I have checked under the bed nightly for the jingle ball hat, that evil face? I can still hear that squealy laughter as he wraps his candy cane striped arms tightly around poor Robbie's tiny neck. I let the kids at my boarding school watch it on Halloween this year, and the combination of screams from myself and 100 teenagers reinforced my belief that no one is really comfortable with a heavily painted evil grin.

Ronald McDonald even evokes heavy discomfort in my soul. I'm convinced he is poisoning happy meals before mass birthday parties so that he can stick kids in the freezer to use to make the next batch of burgers. Ronald even induces this scent memory in my mind every time he pops up in a commerical that is reminiscent of whiskey and cigarette stained halitosis. I think this stems from a party I myself went to at age five where his face was just way too close to mine. Cheap drunk.

Here are a few more reasons my child will never have a clown at their birthday party...Try watching IT all alone when you are twelve and the house is creaking. Sharp teeth are so unecessary on that evil Pennywise. Killer Clowns from Outerspace, Clownhouse...hardly funny. Even the cute little midget clown in BigFish gives me the creeps a little. The circus has never been a chosen activity for my free time no surprise.

If you need any more proof that clowns are evil, go talk to John Wayne Gacy for a while. He was onto something when he took the idea and turned himself into a serial killer.

But hey, just don't ever come to a costume party at my house dressed as a clown, and I may still consider you a friend.

Safety Suggestions for Snow Driving

Tonight was the first big snowfall in a long time, and as luck would have it, the first night in months that I decided to stay at work until 2 am to put in some extra hours. With my regular private room at my boarding school not available, my stubborn qualities set in...screw sleeping in an empty room with four sterile bunk beds, forget being rudely awaken at 6:30 am to the high pitched squeals of 26 teenage girls and their hip hop sing alongs. Nah, my short 40 mile drive is worth heading home.

So here is what I learned by making this decision:

1) When you have three routes you can choose from to get home, two being much safer than the the other one, go with the other one. So what if it is a winding seven mile death trap full of dead deer and bunny carcasses that never gets snowplowed, many people total their cars in, and hey, you're cell phone won't work in it if you slide off the road. At least it is the trusty route that you take every other day when there is no snow in sight, so you will know where you are when your car gets stuck and there is no one around to help you.

2) Don't be the leader while cruising down the really steep canyon home. Instead, stay behind the guy in the minivan who taps his brakes every other second so that you can tap yours too and enjoy the electric slide it puts your car into on the road. Your vehicle needs to boogie with you now and then, especially in a white out when you can't tell where the plunging cliffs start.

3) When approaching your exit, go as fast as you can, because they don't plow those at 3:30 am, so it will feel like a free sledding trip, complete with snow washing up over your head.

4) When approaching the turn for your street, just fly around that corner, because oh, they don't plow that at 3:30 am either, and the sidewalk makes for some great bumper car action that you usually wouldn't get to experience until summertime at the fair. Extra point if cars are parked right on the corner for a more realistic bumper car experience.

5) If you live on a big hill, drive up it instead of down. This will assure that you get in some exercise before bed after you leave your car somewhere near the bottom b/c it will only go in reverse.

And finally, if your drive turns from 35 minutes into two hours and you almost die in the process, go ahead and do it. The ninety pound, doe eyed, tail wagging dog waiting excitedly at door for you will immediately erase the white knuckles and exhaustion that the drive created in the first place.

Pride Be Damned

I am in the process of relocating back to Portland, Oregon. Surprising to many in the fact that over my years absent from the state, I have proudly proclaimed my love for the ability to "be out there on my own" away from the rain and clouds. The only problem being that despite the lovely weather I have encountered in CA and UT, it has been raining and cloudy in my heart without the people from Oregon around to make me smile.

So I have swallowed my pride...it's time to admit... my love for the thrill that hydroplaning on slick roads jolts through my body, the joy I get playing games and catching up with friends on camping trips while waiting out torrential downpours under big blue tarps with a stick wedged up in the middle for draining, the wonderful ease of hopping in the car at 10:00 pm to head to the coast for drinks under the stars on the sand, my happiness in having no excuse to fuss with my hair and use a straightener everyday (remember my love for the hair dryer?), my need for the comfort created while hanging out on Kay and Dougie's farm and the fun we have in their kitchen dancing and singing along to oldies and cheesy country songs, and lastly, my excitement in creating all the romance with someone again that comes while huddling together under one coat to avoid getting wet and kissing outside in the muggy summer rain that catches you offguard on a hike. This is definitely the stuff I think I can handle in my life again.

Baring the Left Hand Again

I have suddenly realized that things change when you don't wear some kind of bling on your left ring finger anymore. Coming from a situation where I had a ring of some type there for five years, I am starting to remember what it is like again.

I am one of those girls who will definitely flip you off and send a vocal "f#*k you" following if you mess with me when I am not in the mood. Luckily the day I heard "Hey, you left your smile on the sidewalk over there," from a kid who was probably in the statutory stage for me, I just gave him a stay the hell away from me glance and went about my day.

So far, many others have not received bad reactions either, but it still catches me off guard when my 40 lb bag of dog food sparks conversations with men now, the visit to the bank, ordering take out, breathing. I mean, they haven't uttered a word in five years afterall. Does a ring really represent the end of all communication with those of the opposite sex who don't already know you?

Now, there are the mullet haired asses at the bowling alley, when you are enjoying a night reminiscent of high school, who just don't care if you have nothing on or a 5 carat stunner that could blind them for life if angled correctly in their direction. This happened one night when I was still taken, and the cat calls and full body scans from this group of Milwaukee's Best drinking skeezes was just too much. Luck would have it that the small and unintimidating significant other at the time and I didn't seem to act like a twosome, so I flocked right to his brother-in-law, who Bics his head and always carries a gun, for some necessary scare tactics. Linking my arm through his, he quickly did the trick, shooting them down with his steel eyes and a glimpse of his piece up under the corner of his shirt. Their parties in the back suddenly scrunched up in fear to their neck lines, and they became good boys for the rest of the night.

So now I am in the process of trading in all my "ex" jewelry for a new right hand ring. The one that screams, "I am independent" but also "I can switch this to my left hand temporarily in emergency situations." And I may just do it while they are midsentence with me and fully aware of my action. I am guessing I will get to do that a lot for a while now.