More of my life's ambitions

1. Figure out how to make the perfect Pad Thai

2. Build a house with Habitat for Humanity or some other do-gooder organization

3. Sing solo for a live audience

4. Relax in the devils pool http://www.environmentalgraffiti.com/offbeat-news/devils-swimming-pool/1099

5. Drive on the Autobahn in Germany

6. Learn to make a healthy cheesecake (damn this cholesterol!)

7. Visit Italy

8. Help raise my grandchildren (someday…far, far away from today)

9. Learn to make healthy lasagna

10. Learn how to sail and then …

11. …sail Bermudas Great Sound

12. Visit Jamaica

13. Learn to speak French Creole (my grandmae would be proud)

14. Go to Mardi Gras in Louisiana

15. Zip line through the jungle in Costa Rica

16. Stand under a waterfall on a tropical isle

17. Get paid to do what I love

18. Grow old with the love of my life

19. Or live as a Golden Girl with my mother and two friends

20. Have very few regrets

Time

It’s the one thing I’d wish for more of if I was ever given a genie who grants wishes. Time to spend an afternoon lying around and reading everything I can get my hands on. Time to watch all of my favorite movies in one sitting and not feel like I’ve lost a day of productivity. Time to sit and talk to my son and listen to him rant with enthusiasm about MMA and all the other things that he’s passionate about (it's really cool to hear him talk about Kimbo Slice and the others). Time to daydream and be creative. Time to try out every recipe in every cookbook that I own. Time to sleep in really late. Time to stop and smell the roses! Instead, I have to prioritize my time and usually the good stuff, the things I’d rather be doing, take a backseat to the things I must do. I’d like to trade this Superwoman cape in for a pair of pajamas, my work clothes for sweats, my watch for a bowl of cherries. Recently, my doctor told me that, for the 3rd year straight, my cholesterol is too high and that I need to exercise more. But I don’t have time, which means that if I don’t do something about my lifestyle, I could die of heart disease. So in essence, I am too busy dying to live. My life is a contradiction but I don’t know how to change it. I just keep piling more stuff onto my plate with the intention of improving my lot, but usurping more of my time in the process. For instance, all this planning for the future that I’m doing takes time. Meanwhile, I rarely ever live for each moment. What did one of the Beattles say? Something about life going on while you were too busy making plans? Clearly I need to slow down. In my defense, I’ve gotten better at managing my time for the mundane. The caveat is that I can’t seem to find enough time to do all of the enjoyable things that I want to do. After today, I’m planning to live it up for at least a month before getting back into my routine of responsibility. I’m taking me and my son to Disneyland, we’ll have a picnic at the beach with our kites, I’m buying tickets to a show at the Hollywood Bowl, I’ll be sleeping late on Saturday morning, and spending all day Sunday in my pajamas, for starters. I think I’ll let my recycling pile up again, too. Maybe if I rebel, rage against the machine a little bit, I'll get more exercise and learn how to cook vegan dishes that might save me from developing heart disease. I don't know but I'm damn sure going to try.

I’m in a decorating mood

The other day while visiting a relative I stumbled across an old, bright red record player that inspired me. I was instantly 8 years old again, wearing my heart rimmed sunglasses and playing my Mary Poppin’s “Spoonful of Sugar” and Snow White records. Ha. I thought about my mothers Prince album (the one with him riding the Pegasus naked) and her MJ “Off the Wall” and Chaka Khan albums, where Chaka and her daughter are wearing glamorous silk outfits sitting in their “living room.” I loved that album cover because it reminded me of my mother and me. Or rather, what I had wished we would be – sitting around in silk get ups, being beautiful and stuff.

The nostalgia that I felt seeing that little red gem abandoned in that garage between a bunch of random, partially discarded junk, but still bright and shiny despite all the dust, made me think that I needed to rescue it and take it home with me. It made me realize that too many of the items in my home needed to be more than just functional, but a true representation of me, my life, and my loves. That sassy little record player was going to waste, when it could be loved and cherished again in my living room. But my pack-rat aunt wasn’t parting with it. Ugh. So now I’m on a redecorating/rescue mission. Any excuse to thrift is a good excuse, in my book.

I have many unique items in my home that are near and dear to me, but for the most part my stuff is purely practical, almost robotic and really insignificant that if I were to lose certain items, I wouldn’t particularly care. They could easily be replaced. But I don’t want easily replaceable, meaningless, purely functional things. I want to give my home more charm and more me. So I’ve decided to recreate my space by adding things that have meaning to me as well as function. Even if that function is just to make me smile. For instance, I’m planning to mat and frame all of my mom’s old modeling pictures - the black & whites as well as the colored ones - in similar but non-matching frames and place them on my sofa table. I want people to walk into my home and 90 percent of its contents are awe-inspiring conversation pieces. If not awe-inspiring, at least they’ll be smile-worthy, inviting, and interesting, rather than just practical. This is obviously going to take a lot of time, but that’s the fun of it. I get to go thrifting and “junking,” as my uncle calls it, on a regular basis. And I get to experience the thrill of finding lost/buried/abandoned treasure and, hopefully, things that are meaningful to me. Like my mothers old modeling pictures from the 60s, or my mom’s promise ring from my dad, which I have stuffed in a box in my closet (I’m going to frame that too). I’ll have things cleaned off, blown up, refurbished, revamped, and reinvigorated, then placed on display as happy reminders of my past. Things that warm my heart and make me smile whenever I walk into a room and see them. I plan to begin this coming weekend by rummaging through my mothers’ closets and storage bins. If I find some particularly sweet items I’ll consider posting about them.

My weekend at the jazzfest

It wasn't as hot as I had anticipated. Although, by the end of the night I thought I had heatstroke :( We went for a late night bite at Denny's and I could barely sit up in the booth and finish my breakfast. A long time family friend, who is more like family than a friend, sings background for a bunch of groups (namely, Loose Ends) and knows Rahsaan Patterson and Lalah Hathaway. She told me to come back down the hill that I was lying on in "a little bit" so that she could introduce me to Rahsaan (I wasn't thinking 'bout Lalah. Dude was my Kids Incorporated crush. And yes, I know he's not checking for ladies ;) I still love him) but I'd just polished off a big plate of catfish, shrimp and french fries and laid down on my blanket not to get back up for a "long time" and ended up missing him because I was too lazy to go back down the hill :( Ah well. I had a good time though. Not as great as the Vegas City of Lights Jazz fest, but it was nice. Charlie Wilson cut up. I couldn't believe that old ass man, lol. He had dancers in shiny suits and pyrotechnics and stuff, lol, gyrating all up on the microphone stand.

Handful of Pics:

I'm not in love

Although some days I want to be. I miss the rush of desire, fantasizing about someone every other minute of my day, feeling high, and losing myself in hedonism.

Other days I’m glad that I’m not because love can be complicated. It often times gets in the way of the best laid plans, sidetracking your life until the spell subsides or is completely over. And I’ve got a full list of plans that I want to accomplish by a certain point in my life. I’m in high pursuit of them, too. So if I happen to stumble on love in pursuit of my goals, then great. I’d consider myself extremely fortunate. But I’m not holding my breath. I know loves a rare occurrence, especially at my age. The age of practicality and reservations.

I’m currently, in fact, not in love. And neither is he, I’m sure. We’re keeping company, passing time. I know that if I said this to him he’d likely deny that he feels this way, and I know that’s only because he doesn’t want to risk losing the perks of our relationship. But we’re keeping time. That’s all. There’s no forever between us, no long time affair in store. It’s clear to me that it’s temporary, yet just how long temporary is remains to be seen. We’re not in love though, that’s for sure. We don’t behave like two people who are smitten with one another. It’s sort of like we’re just agreeing not to be alone. For this time in our lives, we’re choosing to keep company as opposed to no company at all. We hang out, we share meals, a warm bed some weekends, and it’s… nice. I wish I was thrilled about it, though.

Here’s my favorite article on the subject: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1704672,00.html

Blah

I am not bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning. You’d think I spent my weekend swinging from a chandelier, but nope. We went to the movies, dinner, and breakfast, but otherwise it was a pretty quiet and relaxed two days, 3 nights. I’m hoping the French toast that I just got from the cafeteria will help to liven me up a bit. As it stands, I feel like doo doo on a stick – unpleasant, disgusting and pointless. If it weren’t for this gig, I’d still be buried up to my neck in covers with the fan blasting on me, groggy and unable to seize the day, as I don’t typically get out of bed for anything less than my wage or a good time. So, thinking of my bills and the prospect of good times to come, I have forced myself up and out and here I sit, waiting for this severe case of the Monday’s to pass.

About my weekend: We saw Despicable Me and although I am truly sick of this 3-D craze, I really enjoyed the movie (when it was in focus). It wasn’t long enough, in my opinion, though. But it felt complete, didn’t drag on like Toy Story 3 did, and the characters were all well thought out. …except the dog. I still don’t quite get the dog but there weren’t but a handful of scenes with him/it in it so I wasn’t too bothered by him/it. I think that was a dog, lol. I suppose that was the point. Nobody knew what the hell that thing was.

Anyway, blah. Two hours on the grind and I still feel like crap. I hope nobody comes along to ride my nerves.

Randomness

I’m losing the hair battle. Today my hair is pinned up in a librarian’s bun because I’ve run out of styling ideas and have grown tired of my usual curly styles. I want to straighten my hair so so bad but I’m not giving up just yet. This weekend I plan to experiment a bit with it and surf the net for new styles.

My friend found a photographer for our glamour shots. She says that he charges $100 for 100 pictures, which includes hair and make up if we want it. She thinks that’s too expensive. Frankly, I don’t trust anyone willing to do hair and makeup AND photos for under $200 bucks. I understand the economy isn’t doing so well and people are struggling to bring home the bacon, but that’s sheer insanity. What kind of make up is he using, stuff bought from the .99 cent store?? I can only imagine what manner of clown face this guy would give me. So, yeah, no, I’ll pass on that one. I asked if he had sample photos we could see and I’m waiting to hear back.

I told my mother about the 60 year old perv and last Friday’s incident. She said that years ago, when we were kids, my older cousin told her that he’d attempted some perversion with her as well. We were all at a slumber party hosted by his daughter at their home. My cousin was about 16 years old at the time and dumped with us kiddies for the party. While we were all snoozing on a pallet on the floor, she said that she woke up to him slowly lifting the covers at our feet in the middle of the night. So she started moving around and kicking, pretending to still be asleep but moving so much that she threatened to wake me, who was lying right next to her. Eventually, he dropped the covers and left but ever since then and until this very day she has been leery of him. She’s about to turn 41 this month. I wish I had known this years ago.

More jazz in the park this year. We bought tickets to the annual jazz fest around my way for next weekend and I’m really looking forward to it. They say that this new park that they’ve decided to host it at has personal hot tubs you can rent. I doubt I’ll be sitting in a hot tub while watching/listening to the show but I am curious. I may post pictures.

I want to go back to Hawaii. I missed some spots. I know I said that I wasn’t happy with Waikiki because it felt like I’d traveled in a big circle and ended up right back at the beach in LA, but the rest of the island, the parts that we drove to, were so magnificent. And I just know that the parts that we missed were even better. This time I’d like to stay on the North Shore of the island at Turtle Bay. Or maybe I’d stay in Waikiki again since there are more hotel options and close proximity to the airport, and then just drive around everywhere. But ideally, I’d stay in a timeshare. That’s my goal! To buy a timeshare in Hawaii J I still have Kauai, the big island, Lanai, and Maui to visit. And I’m still kicking myself for not finding the restaurant where Adam Sandler met “Lucy” in 50 First Dates, and for not trying Poi, among other things

This fourth of july weekend i got the creeps

Last Friday night I got hoodwinked into driving an hour away from home to Ontario to celebrate a 60 year old long, LONG time family friends' birthday. My mother and uncle Bob went to Catholic school with him, they met in 2nd grade, so he goes way back with us. Back far enough that we consider him family. I grew up calling him "uncle".

Well, at the disco/bar/club birthday celebration at the hotel I was dragged to the dance floor with about six other women to surround the birthday geezer with "dancing Betty's". And while dancing like a maniac, he gleefully went from Betty to Betty, as cajoled, looking like Steve Martin in The Jerk, and when he stopped at me he suddenly lost his balance and head butted my bosom. O_O Ugh. Now, prior to this I'd noticed him checking out my "girls" periodically over his drink and then quickly looking away whenever I'd catch him. So I did not think for one moment that his stumble was innocent. Especially after I had confirmed with him that he was not drunk. This wasn't an isolated incident either. At previous family gatherings whenever I'd go to hug him goodbye he'd try to kiss me, so I would aim for his cheek. Well this time, this lousy pervert turned his face just in time for me to end up kissing him on the lips, instead of his cheek!! That was the 3rd strike and final straw. The gloves have come off and my temperment has been adjusted to HIGH. I will embarrass the hell out of him if he ever tries anything else. I mean loud, indiscreet and direct. I will attempt to draw blood and destroy his soul, if provoked. It's either me or him.

He is a creepy old man who cheated on his wife of 25 years with a girl that I grew up with, and I can't even pretend to imagine being remotely interested in his advances. I feel extremely violated and disgusted.

Uncle Bob

I talked to my uncle Bob the other day and he cried. Man, I love my uncle Bob. Once upon a time, he was the funniest, most wonderful man I knew. When I was seven he made Monstrous Goo (c) Uncle Bob, which is a delicious dish made up of random left over's in the fridge. I can't remember all of the ingredients in that very first batch (fried rice, gravy, egg, chicken...) but I do remember it always being super tasty. My family nickname is Bebo and uncle Bob sang and made up many songs about me that always included a variation of my name. Some were adapted from popular 80s commercials, like the Bumble Bee tuna commercial. Others were pure genius, like "Ms. B, from A-la-bam-ME." He made up other great songs too, like "T.V. Chick," "Meatloaf, why you so greasy?" and "I want to get Pooted on, Poot in my face." Every day he walked me and my neighbor, Crystal, to and from school, made us lunch and kept us laughing until our parents came home. He also taught me a distinct and somewhat complex tapping rhythm that I still remember (Uncle Bob is a very talented, world-traveling drummer who was once on the Tonight Show :) ). At the Hollywood Christmas parade, uncle Bob always sat me on his shoulders so that I could see Santa Claus and all the hoopla. He used to drink Mickey's beer and one time we played a trick on him. We took an old Mickey's beer bottle, filled it with apple juice, sat it in the refrigerator and waited for him or my uncle Doc to show up and claim it. He came in, smiled back at us befuddled, grinning at him like dorks, took a sip and frowned up. We fell out laughing (we were goofy and easily amused that summer) so he chugged the whole thing and never said a word. My uncle was the very first man I'd ever known to wear biker shorts. In the 80s, he rode my cousins ten-speed bike all over L.A. in a black pair adorned with a yellow banana patch placed right on the crotch that read: EAT MY BANANA.

I think I was in Jr. High school when he decided to move back to St. Louis. Uncle Bob is about 60 now. Him and my mother are only 11 months apart, that's how I keep track. He has 9 grandkids out here and one great granddaughter. He's only met the 9 once so he wants to come and visit soon. That's why we talked. He says he's making plans to come and visit and I can't wait to see him! The first thing he said to me when I answered the phone was "It's got cheeeeese on it!"

which is what I said to him at the tender age of 5 while trying to coerce him to eat a shoe :D I love that man so very much. If you read this far, thanks for walking down memory lane with me.

He's been spending the night every weekend

And it's getting old. I want my bed back, I want my freedom. Yesterday, he stopped by and I let him overhear me talking about my friends bonfire party this weekend at the beach so that he knows I have plans this weekend that don't include him. He's antisocial so he'd never want to go but I'll invite him anyway for good measure ;) Things have been good between us but I can feel the tension from time to time, like an argument is brewing. We'll disagree about something minor and rather than full out challenge me like he used to, he'll hold back because he knows it could lead to him being 86'd and there are way too many perks at my house that he doesn't want to lose :) It's okay that we disagree at times, just know when to fold 'em and walk away like I do. We'll agree to disagree and that's perfectly fine. I never have been one to enjoy arguing. Not every issue warrants a battle so pick and choose wisely.

Anyway, I need a break but I'm not sure how to tell him this without him taking it the wrong way. Ugh.

My hair

Here are the hair pics I said I'd post. In case you didn't read, I'm giving my semi-damaged hair a break from heat styling and now I'm trying to find a cute style I can wear natural. the bangs will no longer curl so they're straight, which looks a little odd to me. Maybe in a couple of months they'll at least wave up some.

The return of good friends, facebook, and glamour shots

This past Saturday I had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen or spoken to in something like 20 years. She looks exactly the same, three kids later, and we picked up just about where we left off. I can tell precisely where she is in her life, too, and that's because I've been there. She's antsy, she's wondering what else she can discover about herself, feeling like she's stuck in a never-ending circle while life is going on without her. We ate, talked and shopped for about 4 hours. I came dressed for walking and shopping - tennis shoes, jeans, t-shirt. She came dressed to party - high heels, strategically ripped jeans, and sporting much cleavage. She talked about her husband and kids and the house they've outgrown, the backyard that's overgrown, and how she often fantasizes about the "what -if's" and what not. I related, told her about my time spent in her position and about my bucket list, my trip to Hawaii with my son, which was sort of a coming of age trip, and where I am now. I saw that she understood.

Her mom passed away this April and she's been putting on such a good face, but she just sent me a message on facebook today saying how on Father's Day she'd had somewhat of a melt down. Then, as if ashamed of being sad, her message perked up and she said "hey! Remember our talk about Bucket Lists?" I'd apparently inspired her to write her's out and one of the things she says she wants to do is take a bunch of glamour shots before she gets too old and stuff. lol. She's only 35. But I know exactly where she's coming from because a couple of years ago, I was right where she is.

Taking glamour shots isn't on my list of things to do but I have thought about it a time or two while perusing magazines and lingering over certain celebrity photo shoots. You look at some of these stars and know that they don't look as glamorous on a regular day as they do in those photos. They look happy and perfect and pensive all at once. So I told her "sure" I'd be down.

"Immortalize my shit," (c) Bill Bellamy.

So we're planning to do this. I'm doing it moreso for her and because I think it'd be fun. I think she's doing it because she has doubts about herself and needs affirmation from a bunch of pictures. Regardless of why either of us are doing it I'm sure it'll be great and we'll have something else to bond over.

Right after I read her message on facebook, I read another message from my aunt, my mother's younger sister in St. Louis. On June 8th, her teenaged son made a status update about family drama, lies, and "bullshit." I tried to cheer him up, impart some words of wisdom and he took them as me being snotty, trying to talk shit. After a while I stopped trying to defend and explain myself and just quit responding to him, realizing then that he was batshit crazy and the actual drama monger that he was describing in his update. Fast forward to yesterday and my other younger cousin, who is supposedly a minister, lol, chimes in on that same post from June 8th, trying to check me. Bewildered, I cussed her grown ass out. Then here comes the crazy shit talking teenage boy again, typing like a true lunatic and basically waging war on me. I tried to keep my cool but I was in total disbelief and told him that it was clear he had mental issues which he could keep,"fuck off." Then I deleted him from my friends' list. Next thing I know I'm having a back and forth battle on facebook with his mother, my aunt, who is supposedly grown and sexy, according to her facebook page. She's typing in all caps, I guess to get her point across, and leaving nasty messages on my voicemail. At some point she must realize how stupid she is. Or maybe not, which astounds me. I can't help but wonder what she feels she has accomplished. She certainly hasn't proven to be an adult or anyone with a shred of good sense. And she damn sure hasn't frightened me. I've decided to ignore her. Is she making plans to travel to California to keep it real? Lol, highly unlikely. But this is the culture of the internet, it seems. This week alone, just reading friends and family members' facebook pages I've seen how vicious and cowardly people can be while sitting behind a computer screen. Thankfully, this isn't my life. I'll be deleting my facebook page soon, maybe in about a week or so. Or maybe I'll just be deleting more people from my friends' list and logging on less. We'll see.

Give us free! (c) my curls

Last week I decided to set my hair free. No flat iron, no blow dryer or heat styling of any kind…indefinitely. I suspected that, as of result of stress, I was thinning out at bit on the top of my head and I couldn’t allow that to happen. Oh hell no. So I researched hair vitamins on the net (lol), placed an order, Googled “curly hair styles” and “curly hair care,” washed my ‘do, and have been curly ever since. I learned that I have a mix of 3A and 3B hair, and a small portion is damaged from all the years of heat styling; also, that I should nix any hair care product with alcohol, Lanolin, or paraffin in it because it ruins curly hair. I sort of feel handicapped now, like I’m all thumbs, because I can’t quite figure out what to do with my ‘do. Today I just re-wet it and let it hang to air dry. My bangs won’t curl anymore from all the heat styling, so I cheated just a little bit and bumped them with the curling iron this morning. I’ve been kind of creative with parting my hair and using tortoise shell barrettes, which is more than I can say for the last time I decided to set my hair free. I had no idea what to do with it then, so I either clipped it up, bunned it up, or left it down, which got boring fast. Honestly, I love my hairs’ texture; it just doesn’t go with my face, lol. Every hairstyle photo I downloaded from the net had a narrow faced model. My face is round. Big and round, in fact, so I have to have some sort of bangs. But I have no clue how to fashion curly bangs. I aim to find out, though. I’m going to find the perfect natural hairstyle for me if it kills me. I’ll post a picture soon.

LAKERS LAKERS LAKERS LAKERS LAKERS!!!!

That was a GREAT game! Whew! I thought I was going to have a heart attack. :D

Happy Happy, Joy Joy

When I take inventory of my life and some of the things that I've fought for and accomplished that I thought, at the time, would make me happy in the long run, I realize that not all of them actually have. I don't have a lot of regrets. Just a few that stand out to me like neon lights, and I can't get past them. They've been occupying prime real estate in my mind for a while now and I'm not sure what to do with them. I'm talking about things that I've done in the name of happiness, present or deferred. Back when I made these particular choices, I felt relief but never happiness. Now I'm wondering if that was relief because I thought that my choices would make me happy later. Later, I'd be happy. Not then and there. Not that day, but someday. What a gamble. I was planning to be happy. Yet now, 10, 15 years later all I am is remorseful. This is not meant to be a woe is me post. I'm just mulling over some stuff. As I posted yesterday, lately I've been floating on sunshine. That's what prompted this post - my sudden happiness. How do I control it? I went from stressed and miserable, to don't worry, be happy. lol. And I couldn't see it coming. It was suddenly just there. What's funny is, before it had shown up, I was in the throes of planning for it, going about each day frantically trying to do the things that I thought would make me happy, and none of it has. I just suddenly began to feel happy. Every day this week has felt like Friday and I'm not exactly sure why. Though I have a few ideas. Nothing that has convinced me yet, though. Which leads me to the conclusion that my judgment is clearly OFF, lol. All these years of practice and planning my happiness and I can't even say that I'm getting better at it. I'm probably mostly really getting lucky :)

Can happiness be learned? Can you plan it? Are you predisposed to it? I read somewhere that, to varying degrees, you are. I don't think anybody really knows. Every psych doctor has an opinion though (and a book about it). Happiness is personal, in my opinion. What makes me happy is totally unique to me. Now, if I could just figure out how to stay this way...I would.

When my son was little and he thought someone was sad or upset or scared he'd lovingly and sincerely instruct them to think happy thoughts, like Peter Pan. It was cute and it always made you smile.

I've had an abundance of great days lately...

...that I've neglected to write about. Sorry. Haven't felt like writing much so here's the rundown:

1. As it turns out, *Irwin wasn't behaving badly. His teacher was. We thought he'd ditched a class because his teacher had forgotten that he and another boy were working on a project FOR HER CLASS in the library, so she mistakenly marked him absent. And we were JUST about to inflict corporal punishment on him. "Oops" was all she had to say when confronted. Boy, if I wasn't civilized...

2. I still took *Irwin's phone, demanded the password, and went through it. What I found shook me to my core. One of his oldest and closest friends - they go back to third grade - just took Ecstasy :( He recently moved to the Inland Empire and met "a cute lil white girl" who gave him a brownie with it baked inside. I am dying to tell his super church-going father but I can't. He swore my son to secrecy and I'm not sure it's my business. What to do? what to do!? And how do I ensure that my son NEVER gets influenced? Oh man.

3. My ex has a theory that my son is slacking in school because all he can think about is "Coochie! Coochie! Coochie!" :/ I think he is correct.

4. I think I have a boyfriend. We went to sushi happy hour, got some frozen yogurt, and then went to the movies the other day. He sat through Sex and the City, two. Before that, we went to the museum and talked shit about European art (why does damn near every woman have a titty hanging out? lol). He cooked me dinner twice last week, too. I'm thoroughly enjoying his company. We've hung out three weekends in a row so far, and the only reason we aren't hanging out this weekend is because I have plans to hang out with a long lost girlfriend.

There's more but I'm being lazy.

5. Facebook does it again! I was found by an old high school girlfriend. We met in the tenth grade and were like rice and beans (inseparable) until my ex best friend shoved a wedge between us. Anyway, she sent me a private message, we added one another to our friends' list, I called her and ran off at the mouth, and the next day she texted me asking to hang out. So we're meeting each other in Santa Clarita this weekend - halfway between her home in Lancaster, and mine in Pasadena. I can hardly wait. It's been almost 20 years! (I'm aging myself, lol)

6. My son is passing every class this semester...despite having coochie on his brain. HALLELUJAH! It's by the grace of God, no doubt.

7. Just one hour ago, I completed something very near and dear to me. It was a long and exhausting road but I made it in one piece, standing tall. I'm so proud of me.

That's all I can think of right now. More tomorrow.

Oh, Irwin... *smh

As a parent, it’s natural to worry... right? Growing up, my mother worried constantly about me. If I wasn’t home from school at precisely the minute I usually walked through the front door, she was lacing up her sneakers and heading out to look for me. She walked me to the city bus stop every morning, waited with me, and kissed me goodbye in front of L.A. traffic, until I protested in the 8th grade. It didn’t matter to her that I was significantly taller than her, wore the same bra size that she did, and that people might mistake us for lesbians.

Until this day, my mom worries about me. Whenever I am out late, she demands that I call her as soon as I get home. And if I forget to call, she wakes me up in the middle of the night with a phone call, telling me she was worried. I’m 35 years old and my momma still worries about me. However, throughout all of my years, I have rarely ever done anything I wasn’t supposed to do. I was Old Reliable (still am, truth be told), you could count on me to do the right thing. So my mother never worried that I would do something wrong; she worried that someone else would do something wrong to me.

But my son? He’s just the flippin’ opposite of me. Even more naïve than I was because he was raised away from the inner city, but on top of that, he’s extremely hard headed. Visually, he is my spitting image but personality-wise we are night and day, onion and tomato, oil and water.

Being Old Reliable, I have done everything within my power that I can imagine to ensure that he stays on the straight and narrow. Yet all he’s done is try to figure out ways to outsmart me, failing every time. I am beyond frustrated and worried that he is going to grow up to be a huge loser… and I will die from worrying about him.

There are times when I try to have faith that he’ll be alright, and I try not to worry so much. I’ll compare him to other kids I know – his cousins, friends, my friends’ kids, etc. – and I realize that he is not sailing this boat to Losersville alone. In fact, many of them are worse off than he is. Which leads me to wonder, what the fuck is going on? Where the hell did we all go wrong?? On Facebook a few of his cousins and friends have added me to their friends’ list and 9 out of ten of them can’t spell or string a sentence together for shit. And they’re older than he is! And three of the main culprits have graduated high school. No college, though. Of course, they all still live at home, mooching off their parents, with very little indication that they will ever leave Losersville. I’m telling you, parenting is highly overrated.

This evening his father is coming over to bust up his shit. Literally. I’ll be removing the computer and cell phone from his possession asap. Otherwise, they, too, will get busted up. Dad is pissed, as he should be. Hopefully, this time though, his point will get across to that thick-domed one that is our son.

About the title: When he was much younger we used to call him "Irwin" after Danny Devito's character from the movie "Throw Mama From the Train." (Later, we found out that his characters' name was really Owen, but Irwin stuck) We'd tease him, saying "Irwin loves his mama." Well, today he's looking more and more like frickin' Irwin :( destined to be living with his mama until she dies.

Sitting in my backyard, on my laptop

under my pergola, enjoying this warm California weather. My vacation is over. Tomorrow I go back to business as usual. I enjoyed my time off. Yesterday, we went to the Norton Simon museum, stopped in Old Town for some of Bella's Pizza, and then went across the street to Dot's cupcakes before taking a stroll down Colorado. Saturday we celebrated Memorial Day with a cookout in my backyard. I bought a kiddie pool to rest our feet in and we ate and ate and laughed and talked until the sun went down around 8 pm-ish. Then I watched the movie "Taken" with the guy who's wooing me. He set up my pergola the day before, and mowed the backyard. We've been getting along splendidly. All week we hung out, shopping, eating, movie going, cooking, chilling...I've enjoyed his company immensely. He's sitting next to me as I type this, playing jazz on his laptop while perusing the net. Later on I'll straighten up my house, cook dinner, shower, read a little and get ready for the rest of the week back at work. He'll be at home by then.

Feeling Good

Tomorrow should be perfect. We spent the day preparing for our Memorial Day cookout. The backyard is freshly mowed, the adirondack chairs were scrubbed clean, the pergola is up with colorful lanterns hanging from it, the grill has been cleaned and the house is half-way clean, lol. Now, all I need to do is polish my toe nails, go to bed, and wake up to prepare the rest of the grub I bought from Costco this afternoon. The "Grill Master" will be here bright and early in the morning. Blankets, water toys, PoKeno boards with red chips, barbecue, sunshine, music, family and friends. Gonna be a great Saturday :)

He bought me a bible

Seriously. He told me (during our 3am phone conversation because I couldn't sleep) that I was losing faith and forgetting that God is with me, always has been, and always will be. My life is up to me and it can go whatever way I choose. Choice, not chance, determines your destiny. So he bought me a bible to remind me. This bible, as a matter of fact, and I'm glad he did. At first I denied, denied, denied, and became defensive at the suggestion. I believe in God, I hadn't forgotten. But after reading the first 10 pages or so of my new bible, I realized that he was right. I had forgotten, and my anxiety and frustration was largely because I had lost faith in myself and behaved as though I was going it alone. Despite all of my blessings, my family and friends, and all the times I've worried for nothing, because, in the end, things always turn out right.

I had forgotten that I am only in control of my choices, the free will that was given to me at birth. I did not create myself and I alone cannot sustain my life. Neither of those two things I can control. Just my choices. And God never gives us more than we were designed to bear. Life becomes much easier to live when grace is your perception.

I don't know what the future holds, neither do I know why any of us are here, why we're all unique, why we live and die, why water is wet, and why everything, every single thing, has its place in this world, in this universe. But I do know what is. I don't have to understand how God works to believe in God. I don't need to know why to know that I am. Likewise, I don't question God to know that He is. My proof is the very stuff I am made of.

God is infinite and a finite mind cannot understand the infinite. (c) Genesis

I had an astronomy teacher who said that within every living thing on Earth is star bits. We're all, literally, made up of the same things that stars are. Science explains that all the elements on Earth heavier than hydrogen originated inside stars. The iron that carries oxygen in your blood was created when a star died. Everything is connected, and I believe that is by God's perfect design. Not chance. The same creator of those billions of unimaginably distant galaxies full of stars also created us ;) .

So I'm fumbling around a lot less these days, slowly rediscovering my divinity, coming out of a fog, but still fragile, still human. Step by step and I'll be right where I'm supposed to be, as long as I choose what I know in my heart is right and keep going. Life is too short to waste time stuck and worrying. Jump, and the net will appear.

The bible is the best gift he has given me. It was thoughtful and sincere, in my opinion, and it may have saved me from detouring down a treacherous path.

All that to say...I'm BACK ON TRACK! :D