Clingstone

I am extremely fascinated by this house. It literally sits on a rock. A 10 bedroom, 103 year old mansion in the middle of the Narragansett Bay sitting on a rock. It looks like something out of a Harry Potter movie, completely majestic and unreal. But it's real. I mean, I consider the New York Times Home and Garden section a trustworthy source and they did a piece on it: http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2008/08/07/garden/20080807-CLINGSTONE_index.html

It took 36,000+ to build yet sold for $3,600. I wonder why. My guess is that the family that owned it didn't want the hassle of keeping it up. Plus, from earlier sketches of it, it appears that the rock on which it is sitting is eroding. But how did it last for 103 years!? Amazing. It looks so homey and cozy but I think I'd be afraid to sleep in it for worrying about being swallowed up by the ocean, or simply sliding into the bay, lol. Or what about it being hit by a large boat! It's in the middle of the water so that is possible, right? Or does it act as a lighthouse. Amazing! I would absolutely LOVE to visit this place and just sit and watch the water, the boats going by, listen to the seagulls.

Kitchen remodeling/decorating pictures

I love my house. When I bought it I was so geeked about buying an actual house with a back and front yard and not having to settle for a townhouse or condo, which are really just glorified apartments (I can say that now that I have a house), that I was willing to live with the tiny kitchen it came with. I figured I could spruce it up, make do until I can afford to buy another one. I have a traditional cape cod house built in the 1920s. The previous owner kept it well maintained and even included a few modern luxuries like central air and heat to go along with the old world charm of its bay windows and wood-burning fireplace, etc. But the kitchen was less than thrilling. In fact, when I took my son along for a viewing he hated it and begged me not to buy it, lol. I could see if it was a galley kitchen then I could deal with its size. But it's literally a box. It's not pleasing to the eye, theres no symmetry. SOOOOO, I took on the task of beautifying the heart of my home. Threw up some curtains and a few signs, going for a country diner look and decided to finally stop the lazy madness and put up a roll of wallpaper I'd been holding on to for oh, about a year and some change. A friend came over, we cleared off the dining room table and he and I got it cracking! Thank God he was there to help me because there is no way I could've gotten those first few pieces up by myself. Sheet after sheet went up beautifully. Then we ran out. So now only 95% of my wall is covered. I'm pretty disappointed. And to top it off! I'm still not loving my kitchen. My mother says that I won't ever love it because of its size and the way it's positioned and I think she's right. I'll just have to make due I guess, until and if I ever move or come into enough money to renovate it. I have the space in the backyard to expand, just not the clams in which to do so. Anyway, without further ado below are some pictures of the kitchen. I plan to paint the cabinets during my next burst of energy and then redo the floor with new tiles. Oh, and I'm very satisfied with the rest of the house :)

here's the wallpaper. I painted the spice cabinets with chalkboard paint and made them a menu board and a grocery list board










over the stove. The diner picture may be moved or replaced with a stainless steel backsplash, I don't know.









my baby













window, etc.














So I ran out of wallpaper and have about 3 small notebook-sized sections that aren't covered with paper and the website where I bought the wallpaper no longer carries it. I want to cry but before I do I'm going to try to see if maybe I can take a piece of it someplace and have it recreated. Wish me luck.

Warning: the following post contains large amounts of hate

I googled Liz the other day; found her husband;s work bio instead and learned that they’re back in Cali now with two kids, a boy and a girl. I did the math and they left in 03 (right after their perfect wedding), he finished school in 05 and, according to another ex coworker who kept in touch with them, they were debating getting a dog at that time so that they could practice being parents (dumb. I know). So this would mean back-to-back babies for them and possibly a miserable, multiple-shitty-diapered, mini van driving, super jumbo baby bag toting, bored as hell Liz. Parenting - being sweet and tender, was not her personality at all. The website bio congratulated her husband on the birth of his daughter so I'm guessing the baby is a new addition and the oldest is no older than 4, if that. Through the internet chain I went, and discovered that she is no longer working (probably a stay at home mom and wife) and “looking to reconnect”. Then I remembered a stupid comment that she made before they left. She said that black people (her husband is black) couldn’t use regular black-colored curling irons and had to use the gold colored ones because our hair is too coarse. ...Um, what? That dumb ass comment was probably the only smile-inducing moment I’d ever spent with her. I hated Liz. I’ve never hated anyone in my life but I hated her with a passion. She was the epitome of an evil, vile, ugly bitch, and she did it just for the hell of it ('cept the ugly part, of course.). She needed no real provocation aside from thinking I was inferior to her. Sometimes I wish I could go back and relive a few moments differently. I’m sure she and I would’ve come to blows had I been the person I am now. The fact that she made such a ridiculous statement in front of half the office and was embarrassed by it, especially by the fact that I was the one to correct her, felt so good. So marvelous! And now, knowing that she can’t be that alpha bitch that she fancied herself as being when we worked together because she’s a stay at home mom and only has toddlers to compete with, warms me up inside. I hope she’s miserable, crying with postpartum depression, losing her identity in exchange for a chef, maid, and nanny with sagging, hopeless, tiny boobs. I hope her hair is even stringier than I remember it and her forehead bigger and splotchier. I hated that bitch and I hope she knew it.
On the bright side, I learned to spot her type a mile away and know how to handle them these days.

Went to the doctor today. I've been too passive when it comes to my health, figuring that I'm too young to die of natural causes and that I'll be good until I'm at least 40ish. Wrong. After waking up with anxiety and laying down my woes to friends and fam, someone suggested that I look into my health. So I googled "stress" and I came up with "migraines," "fainting," and "heart health," which reminded me of my recent migraine attacks, my fainting spells over the years, and the heart concerns expressed by a few docs I've seen over my lifetime. Last year I fainted and blew it off, but my boss and a couple of coworkers strongly suggested that I go see a cardiologist. Turns out fainting is pretty serious, so I went, they ran a heap of tests, and then sent me home with a heart monitor attached to my body for me to wear overnight. After that, I never got the results of those tests explained to me. Fast forward to two weeks ago and I'm on Google and Wikipedia freaking the fuck out because my test results basically said that I could suddenly die! SUDDEN FUCKING DEATH! AT 30 FUCKING 4!!!
I can't die. I have a child to raise, a very emotionally dependent mother, assets and no will. Plus, I still have shit to do. So I went to see a doctor today and she basically told me all that google and wiki said and then some, then she recommended that I see a sleep doctor and another cardiologist for palpitations and heart syncopy.
A little history:
-When I was born they told moms mably that I had a heart murmur. They ran tests but they were inconclusive. Stumped, they claimed I just had small veins and sent us home (to die?)
-When I was 14 a gestapo PE teacher wouldn't let me rest when my heart started racing and my brain was saying "SIT DOWN!" so I passed out.
-At 16 I passed out again. Don't recall why.
-My ex used to shake me awake sometimes because he said I'd snore and then stop breathing some nights for long periods of time (no oxygen to the heart and brain aint a good thing)
-At 33 I passed out after a few weeks of restless sleep and anxiety over work
-The heart monitor that they put on me last year recorded my heart racing while I was asleep = NOT good
-The test results from that monitor also showed ventricular couplets = what can cause sudden fucking DEATH!!
and some other stuff. But today she said my heart seemed normal and everything else was on the up and up but she suspects that it may be triggered by certain things like, um, stress. So I'm having a bunch of other tests run in the next couple of weeks.

This is surreal to me. I cannot begin to wrap my mind around the idea of suddenly dying of natural causes at 34. The important thing is, I know what my stressors are and I aim to block them at all other costs. Nothing is worth my life.

In other news, mumsie hit the jackpot! Well, kinda sorta. They owed her a bunch of back pay from my dads SSI so today they sent her a fat check. Since she has everything she needs right now, she wants to blow a chunk of it and in doing so, buying me a TV :D SHOPPING WEEKEND!!!

Mr. Ed Choppers sent me a very disgusted instant message today, upset that the guy she's dating was seen hanging out with his ex girlfriend this past weekend. She told me that she decided to hop on Facespace and miraculously stumbled upon a picture of this "fugly" /fucking ugly girl and she has NO idea what he saw/see's in her. Because she's a "hag" and "fugly as hell." Homegirl was insulted and shit. So she emailed me the picture she'd found of this girl:

From: Choppers, Mr. Ed

Sent: Monday, July 20, 2009 11:31 AM

To: Scout

Subject: It’s the one with the black hair = UGLY HEFFA LOL!!!

Now, here's a picture of Mr. EC from last summers company picnic:

Uncanny resemblance, right? I thought so, and laughed heartily at my desk. I replied "I see he's a fan of dark hair." Snnnk! How can she not see this? I wish I had a picture of her facing the camera, they look like they could be sisters.

Mission Failed/The NERVE of gramps

I think "fly in July" backfired and I actually gained weight. So, I'm hopping back up on that horsie like the champ that I am and trying this thing again. In my defense, I was sick and under tremendous stress for a while. :P
All women need the self-esteem of dirty old men. Is it arrogance, naivete? What makes a 60 year old man think he can date/fool/charm the pants off/all of the former, someone 20 years his junior? If nothing else it's certainly bravery. Maybe he thought he'd roll the dice and luck up on someone foolish enough to think he was a catch. I don't know but part of me is offended that he even had the gaul to try me, lol. I asked him how old he was and he quickly said "fifty" as if he'd practiced and prepared for the moment I'd ask him that, knowing that I'd ask. He wasn't convincing though. I almost asked to see his drivers license but I decided I'd spare him. His gout-ridden hobble from JC Penney to the food court where we met told on him anyway. Oh yeah, he was knocking on 60s door. But I gave him a chance to try to convince me to fall for his geriatric game partly because I knew it'd be entertaining and then, well...why not? I like the Cheesecake Factory. But it wasn't entertaining at all. Thank goodness it was quick and semi-painless, though. Quickest date of my dating life, probably. The games began with him calling me from the bathroom at his house so that we could decide on where to meet. He was whispering into the phone and it was echoing, lol. I couldn't hear shit he said so I wasn't too surprised when he ended up at the wrong Cheesecake Factory because he probably couldn't hear me either. He seemed mad nervous whispering, I imagined, on the toilet in his bathroom hiding from his family. This was the first time I'd gotten a call from the house and not while he was out walking the neighborhood. It was quite amusing because surely he didn't know he was so transparent: old, cheap, married and horny. Anyway, having gotten tired of saying "huh!?" into my cellphone, I clearly gave him the directions to the Cheesecake Factory at the mall. "Take the 210 to Baldwin, turn left and you'll run right into it on the left." Instead, after I hung up he probably got directions from someone or someplace else and ended up at the Cheesecake Factory in Old Town, off the 134 and Colorado. Totally passed me up and drove an additional 15 minutes out of the way. When we finally did meet up, he talked about traveling, saying he does a lot of it and if he "doesn't meet a woman soon, he's just going to up and drive to the east coast" because he has family there. "Oh yeah?" I say. "Yeah," he says "I got family in Chicago, Missouri, and Indiana." I didn't have the heart to tell him that was the midwest, not the east coast. More boring convo ensued and then he mentioned that he wanted to go to Santa Barbara because he hadn't been in 20 years and the Anderson split pea soup company is there. So I asked him why Santa Barbara and he looked at me incredulously and said "For the split me soup!" Oh, okay. Duh. O_O
Later on we had a tiny disagreement about marriage and he complained that his son wanted to go bowling that afternoon but he'd have to wait until matinee time tomorrow because he wasn't paying $50 to bowl with him. Then he chided me for choosing such a fancy restaurant and I think he was serious. I got the Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp and he got a caesar salad and had them add cajun shrimp to it (he was mad they only gave him four jumbo shrimp). The whole while he kept hinting that he wanted to taste my food, but that wasn't happening. Then when the bill came he asked me "Since you do this all the time, how much tip should I leave for a $42 bill?" He made it an even $50. Then he started to shift in his seat and I realized he had somewhere else to be so we left. On our way back into the mall so he could make his trek through the food court and JCPenney, he tried to get a titty-smash type hug, but he was lucky I was even willing to give him a one-armed one. I don't know your old nasty ass like that. Ugh. I thanked him, went into Borders and disappeared. He called and left me a voicemail message an hour later that I still haven't listened to. I really wish he'd find some nice old lady to take to the Cheesecake Factory though, if he's truly single. I'm not going to be able to do it.

Every morning when I open my eyes I wonder what I can do to make myself famous. It's become my ambition, almost my raison d'etre, to burst upon the city like fireworks - Coco in "Shanghai Baby" by Wei Hui

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather my spark burn out in a brilliant blaze than it be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. - Jack London

How will I tackle today? So far, I've forced myself from my bed, stretched my stiff old muscles, and did 50 crunches. Then I hopped on the couch and began reading a ridiculously funny, page turner by Steve Hely that I picked up the other day while perusing Borders. I was in the sun all of 10 minutes and I have a super cocoa suntan. Later on, I'm supposed to be meeting a guy for a movie and some grub but we'll see. Something tells me he's a sneaky little devil masquerading as a saint. He only calls me when he leaves the house, which is quite often but odd. My suspicion is that he's married or shacked up and trying to snag some side swirl. He goes for afternoon walks and calls me while bumbling along, breathing all hard and competing with traffic noise to be heard. Yeah, alright, potna. My desire is to maybe stroll along Colorado and poke my head into a few shops, pick up some frozen yogurt and then stop off somewhere for lunch, maybe finish my book in the park. But if he calls me back (he called yesterday during one of his daily walks but I was on my way to see Harry Potter and couldn't be bothered with small talk at that time so I haven't returned his call) I'll meet him at the Cheesecake Factory or somewhere comparable and chat him up, see if my intuition is on the money. Or at the very least if we're anywhere near compatible. So far, the signs aint pointing north.

C'est si bon

It just occured to me that I like that he leaves me alone from time to time. For the life of me I couldn't figure out at first why I continued to like him and allow him to come back every time. Now I know that it suits me best. He may not know this but I enjoy my solitude just as much as I enjoy talking to him. We laugh and flirt, joke and tease, insinuating that maybe, someday we'll be more but both quietly knowing it's highly unlikely. It's fun to pretend sometimes. Our arrangement, no matter that it's borderline unhealthy, is a good one for me at the moment. For instance, right now there is a budding bugaboo on my trail. I was nice to him, I entertained his advances and already I am coming to regret it. We talked on the phone yesterday and made plans to have lunch and catch a movie tomorrow, so why is he calling me today? This will be our first date and already, before we've even begun I can see that we won't work. But him? My vanishing act? Him I like. Perhaps even adore. I think about him all the time. Maybe it's true what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder. Or maybe I just truly don't want to be bothered.
Pink wrote a song about it. Like to hear it, here it goes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7JCcHOnMyw

Carpe Diem?

Have you forgotten how to play? Is your life monotonous or do you try your best to make every moment count? Because, after all, life is a series of moments. I have a relative who is the epitome of a stick in the mud and it bothers me so much I want to yell at her and shake her and maybe throw in a slap or two to ensure I make it clear that her behavior is unacceptable. I kind of feel like I'll catch it - her boring disease - if I'm not careful, and that worries me, lol. However, irrationally (or is it?). Those kind of people tend to suck all the life out of you with their lack of enthusiasm and droning speech, and by the end of a conversation you're feeling like the end of the world is near, the sky is falling and all that other morbid, depressing shit. And then they wonder why their blood pressure is high, and their cholesterol is teetering on the brink of them needing Lipitor, and their joints hurt from doing nothing at all, and they can't walk up a flight of stairs without their legs burning. In a nutshell, they're miserable. And I think they like it. I think she's content with living in her head, never actually playing, just watching others do it.
Until I'm old and gray, and even then, I still want to enjoy going out for fruity drinks with my girlfriends, shopping with my mom, bike riding with my son, falling down while ice skating and then getting up to try again knowing I'll just end up on my ass each time. Before they toss dirt on me I want to say "Yep, I've done that," to at least 80% of all their is to do. It's a lofty goal but I'm up for the challenge. I'm trying to create a living masterpiece, not stew in the mundane. A few weeks ago, I found myself actually playing ding-dong ditch in Beverly Hills at the behest of one silly comrade, but with a spin on the original - I was wearing a sort of "freakum" dress and high heels, and I have to say, it was just as exhilirating as I remember it. Thank God I don't think I'm too old to have fun. Otherwise, you might as well be dead.

Viva la vacacion

I've been meaning to write something here but I haven't had much to say lately. Plus, my vacation started Friday afternoon and since then I've been everywhere but in front of my computer. So here's an update in pictures:

On our way to San Diego...

Enjoying the city and what it has to offer (my breakfast was so good, I forgot to take a picture before I finished it. My pancakes covered the entire plate :) )

Getting our tootsies pampered for the daylong trek through the Gaslamp Quarter

Might as well have matching hands...

While shopping we break for chocolate.

Then we hit the beach

This was Saturday. The remaing pictures from Saturday will be uploaded to Photobucket, as usual. Sunday's pics will be added later. Thanks for reading.