allergies

Jane Lindskold's voice echoes in my head nearly every day, "twelve good lines...". It seems easy enough in theory, but I just can't seem to put it into practice. Am I just another one of those people who only talk about the book they are going to write some day, or can I sit my ass down and actually do it? I think I'm allergic to finishing things that I start.

rant, rant, rant...

This a journaling episode for me. If you really feel the need to read it, well it's here, but if you're the kind of person who freaks out if they know too much about someone, then don't read further.

Ok, back to the dish towels from mom...

So, let me make it clear that I am grateful for my mother's hard work that she put into those towels for me...and I do know that needle point is a lot of work...especially for someone whose eye sight is so bad she can't pass the DMV eye test with her glasses on. Also, may it be known that I'm not upset about the dish towel designs because I'm a big bad butch lesbian, although that doesn't help.

The thing that bugs me is the little girly designs, because this is part of my mother trying to make me into her "little girl" (yes, I intentionally wrote "make me into" as opposed to "keep me"). I am my mother's last child, and god save me, her favorite ("Luannie was so quiet, she never bothered me") and I get that whole emotional crappity-do that results from this fact, but I don't have to like it. In fact I find it to be a slap in the face that now, as an adult, she expects me to be her 'little girl', when as a child she didn't really offer me the opportunity to be a 'little girl.' No instead I got to take care of her when she was having her nervous breakdowns, or, even before that, I got to get raped weekly by the frakking neighbor long before I even knew that I had a thing called a vagina, while my mother ignored the fact that something was very wrong (and I certainly knew that I couldn't tell her what was wrong). I didn't get to be a little girl because my mother needed to be the little girl, and I had to be the adult...no matter what happened to me...it always had to be all about her.

And I've done enough therapy to know that "she did the best that she could with what she had", but sometimes that just isn't enough. I am sorry that her childhood was so frakked up that she had to steal mine away from me, but it doesn't make any of the hurts I suffered any less painful...and the thing of it is; her trying to make me back into her little girl (by doing things like sending me 'bonnet girl' towels) after all these years just makes those wounds fester.

PS: if you decided to read this anyway, don't worry, I've had more therapy than you can imagine, and I'm just hunky-dory, so don't go getting all weird on me.

I am grateful for...

Back when my friend Sheila and I were roommates, we had this holiday tradition (which I think, may have been started by Sheila's friend 'Sassy' Jo). Rather than saying some prayer at the meals, but to still bring in a bit of The Sacred, we would hold hands and go around the table stating what we were grateful for.

I haven't shared a holiday meal with Sheila in a long time, and I haven't kept the tradition alive in my travels. I think this Chris chick would be open to continuing on the tradition. To get things started, here is a short list...

I am grateful for the people in my life who make me laugh, for all of the Love from all of my friends, for Saigon Restaurant and the many friends I have shared meals with there, for the ability to ride a motorcycle, for Enya (yes, I'm a freak), for my cool tattoos, for BSG, for my internship, for my gym membership, for the burned cookies my mom sent me, for my Home, and for finding my Soul Mate.

Your turn...

The diet pill is wearing off...

Just a little song title from L7 to start your morning.

What I didn't say during my rant yesterday about losing weight, is what my weight loss goal is. I don't want to have a 28" waist. I really just want to be able to comfortably get into my Wranglers (33", if I remember correctly) again. There was a time in my life that I thought I should have a 28" waist, but I've gotten over it.

I learned about weight loss goals from my sister, Kathy. Kathy, who 9 years older than me has been obsessed with her weight since as long as I can remember. My two role models for what a woman's figure should be like came from her, and from my mother who lived on cigarettes and black coffee (because she was 'too nervous to eat' if you need a refresher on that you can reference Autobiography). These two women were always there to let me know that I was getting fat, or that I was going to be as fat as my father. Of course they didn't stop to think that my father's gut was the result of chronic alcoholism, not an eating disorder. So with a little help b them I became convinced that I was horribly overweight, but as I found out years later; I was not.

On the bright side, my sister's obsession with her weight may have saved me from being a drug addict. Back in the day, diet pills were still over-the-counter speed, and at the ripe old age of 16, my sister was shop lifting diet pills to keep her weight down (not to mention starving herself). One day, I got off the bus from another thrilling day of second grade to find the ranch rather quiet. Mom and dad were off at some Artex convention, where mom would be receiving yet another crown for having the highest sales in the region. It was still early fall so the garage door was open, and the screen door was the only door closed into the house. As I reached for the knob, I saw my sister cross from the hallway into the living room. I only saw her for a second but I had seen enough to have my gut tell me I needed to hide. She had been walking on her knees, her eyes were glassy and not just from the sobbing she was doing, and she was mumbling words that I couldn't understand.

I was terrified and I was alone. My brother Jimmy should have been home, but I had no idea where. I hid in the garage, afraid to move and afraid to call out. Wrapped up tight in my suffocating, eternal terror I waited for someone to come rescue me. Eventually my brother came stomping into the garage, his red hair practically ablaze with his intensity. Without a word he ushered me quickly down the basement stairs. He quietly opened the door, got us both in, and closed the door behind us. "Kathy overdosed on her god-damned diet pills. Keep quiet and stay here." With that he ran up the stairs and into the house. I could hear his cowboy boots clomping through the house, as he did whatever it was he was doing. Finally I heard him clanging things around in the silverware drawer.

Eventually, he came down to get me and brought me back upstairs. I really didn't want to be in the house, but I was much more at ease with Jimmy around than being alone. After yelling at Kathy to stay the frak away from me, in a rare moment of domesticity, Jimmy made us both peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and returned to the table where he had instructed me to sit, and we played go-fish. I tried to ignore Kathy, who was still making her rounds around the house on her knees in between bouts of violently throwing up in the toilet.

While we played our game the phone rang. Jimmy got up from the table and picked up the wall phone from next to the door. It was my parents. He told them of Kathy's 'episode', and proceeded to tell them that he had hidden all of the knives because he was afraid that she would try to kill me (uh, Jimmy? what you're doing is not helping with that whole 'terror' thing).

Long story short, Kathy didn't kill me, and eventually she passed out and was back to her normal crazy self. And I never-ever wanted to do drugs.

Hey Brenda

So here is wanted I wanted to text to Brenda, but my key pad sucks AND I don't have a 'camera' phone, so you can all suffer through the blog:

Ok, so dude, I really appreciate that my mom made me needle-point dish towels...but why Little House on the Prairie bonnet girls?!? Why couldn't she needle-point me a little El Dia de los Muertos Girl in a dress? Or kittens? Maybe you could send her some patterns for next year? Fortunately the Folgers can contains burnt cookies, not folgers...she even put a piece of bread in the can to keep them moist. So much for changing my diet, eh? 'Tis the season to put both feet in the trough, fa-la-la la-la.

And, yes, I know I said I was dis-owning my family. I changed my mind...I'm just not going to be a doormat anymore.

Repent your failed resolutions!

Why don't New Year's Resolutions work? My theory is that they are too vague and generally don't include a realistic plan for achieving the resolution. For example, the most common resolution; "I am going to lose weight." Great goal, but how do you get there? One day don't eat anything except a granola bar, and the next day when starving and having a glycemic episode eat the whole house. Yup. Done that one. The other thing is that there have to be life-long changes (not just for the upcoming year...or more likely, the 2 weeks before the end of the year), changes that one can live with.

So, I have been wanting to get rid of some fat and get big muscles (that is the direct quote from me to my trainer when I first started working out). I would love to have be built like trainer-extraordinaire Dorine, but I think that her body is probably a full time job (see above fo-to). Anyway, I started working toward that goal last winter when my friend Brenda was like, "Dude, wanna lose weight?...K, I have this new product..." oh wait, no, she said "Lets go to the gym right now and join" Probably not the exact quote, but she didn't say, "let's join the gym some time", she said, "meet me now, bring your check book", and I did it. Firm, solid goal and execution. Thanks B.

And I have been good about getting to the gym, with the exceptions of being sick or having owies. I have managed to build some muscle, but the blubber ratio has stayed the same. And here is the deal; in order to burn fat you need to change your diet AND do more cardio. I find cardio boring, in part because I don't see immediate results, so I don't do it. On the diet front, I have made some minor changes, but there are bigger changes that I need to make, and I knew I wasn't ready to make long term changes, and I was aware of the consequences and willing to live with my decision. Just like in getting sober, I had to have a willingness to have a willingness to make changes. I now have a willingness to make changes, and I am slowly making some changes. I have also started to do more cardio, which means less pumping iron (and less muscle/strength gain), but I want to get those damn Wranglers on again. Once I get my next installment of student loans I will get an exercise bike so that when I am wasting 45 minutes (Thank you God for TIVO) watching Ghost Hunters or LA Ink, or whatever trash it is at the moment, I can actually accomplish something and won't be able to whine about how boring cardio is.

and so ends the reading.

it's alive!

Well, I am finally coming up for air. I've spent most of the last four days recovering, so not much exciting to report. We did have to open a couple Christmas presents early and my fabulous gf got me the new AC/DC and Metallica cds. I am just now starting Metallica-I'll give you a review when I've had a chance to listen to the whole thing.

It wasn't on either of our lists, but we couldn't resist picking up a new game from Active Imagination; Redneck Life. The object of the game is to be the one with the most teeth at the end of the game. You just can't go wrong with a game like that. We did play a quick game before I passed out last night...it rocked. My favorite card, "Try experimental home dental procedure. Lose 2 teeth. Dang."

my exciting life

Yesterday I had the stomach flu. Yesterday was also my last day of class. I stayed home.

Snow day

Chris and I had a snow day yesterday...yeah free day. A couple weeks ago we actually picked up 2 strings of lights which we hadn't even taken out of the bag...until yesterday. While we were out an about we picked up a little potted pine tree which we brought upstairs and trimmed (we couldn't do it downstairs as the boxers would eat it...and the presents). We only had 9 ornaments between us, but that was just the right amount for our little tree. I haven't been particularly excited about Christmas since...well, since my dad died. He loved Christmas; in particular he loved decorating for Christmas. Back in the day the ranch could be seen for miles as a result of the many, many colored bulbs lighting up crisp winter nights. It's been hard to get back into Christmas, but as I start my new life with my new family, I am ready to reclaim some old traditions, as well as creating new ones.

What kind of cake?

Chris and I haven't decided on a date...and that can wait for now since we are thinking spring/summer. The most important question right now is; What kind of cake will we have? We already know the most important aspect of the cake...who will make it! And that will be our fabulous baker friend ('pasty chef' is probably the correct term, but I'm a hick so I don't know any better), Lisa. BTW, if you have any baking needs, let me know, I will hook you up with. I added a poll to the side bar so my devoted readers (all 5 of you) can help with cake selection. It is 6:08 am, so I am admittedly not very sharp so I couldn't really think of many cake selections, but feel free to give us ideas (keep in mind that I am allergic to nuts) (and we both hate carrot cake).

(Hey Lisa, I'm assuming from your comment that you will let us hire you for the cake?) :)

letting go, part 2

I woke up this morning from this funky dream. I was at this store where they were selling a bunch of items that I had donated. Some of it was crap, but some of the items were my 'treasures'- some real life, some dream life. I was collecting up these things that I could buy back but I didn't have enough money to get all of the, and one of the items was a sword that my dad had bought me (real life).

For those who don't know, my dad died 17 years ago. After his brother died, he and I lived in 'town' at his brothers house, and whenever there was an estate sale, he and I would go. At one of these auctions he bought me an old military sword (the one from the dream). After his death, I had to get rid of a lot of things fast, because I simply didn't have a place for all of the stuff...and there was a lot of it. There are many things I got rid of that I regret getting rid of, but the sword wasn't something I was going to let go of.

A few years back I was in a relationship with R. We lived in a small studio apartment so I had to find a place to store my non-essentials. She offered to keep my things out at her trailer on the Rez. After we broke up I had her take me out there to pick up my things. When I went to get the sword my father had given me, she started arguing that I had given it to her. In no reality that I walked in had I given the sword to her, but by that point I was so sick of arguing with her, I just gave in, rolled my eyes and said, "whatever." It was a bad move on my part, but again, I was sick of arguing, and with this particular girl friend, everything came out of my mouth was subject to argument and I just couldn't take it anymore.

Since that time, the regret of loosing this one thing I had left that my father had consciously gifted to me, has haunted me. After waking up with this dream, I knew I needed to contact her about the sword. So I got out of bed at 4:57 am and I came down to the computer to email her. My slow starting computer gave me the opportunity to re-hearse my email enough times to free it from anger and/or guilting techniques, and just state the facts. I know that I have to let go of any expectations and just accept whatever she decides to do, but I do feel better that I have stated my claim, rather than just letting this go without standing up for myself.

Don't you know it's winter?!

This what I was asked several times today. The reason for the question being repeated by so many people today had to do with the fact that I was wearing shorts. Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't get up this morning and say, "Oh, it's so hot out...I better wear my shorts." No, it was a simple case of me wearing my shorts to the gym, and dropping Chris off at work while I went to run errands. I could have brought pants along, but it really wasn't that cold.

For those of you who know me, you know that I hate the cold and I hate being cold, but once it warms up (as it did today), it is quite pleasant. It's not like ND where right about now it's probably below freezing, plus a little wind-chill on top for good measure. I keep thinking about the winter I had this rusted out old Dodge truck. I literally had to put squares of plywood on the floor to keep from falling through the floor boards (I'll see if I can find a pix to post of the old rattle trap). That was the winter where we had a record breaking number of days that didn't get above freezing...I don't recall how many days it was, but think 'weeks'. Now that is cold.

So, anyway, I am about to leave for class, and even though it is cooling down, I am wearing my shorts. Why? 1. because I'm a brat (Yes, I know it's winter), 2. I think my calves look kinda hot. Ho! Ho! Ho!

Er, Uhm, Chris?

Chris and I have been talking about getting rings for a while. On our trip home from Phoenix we stopped at a gas station in Gallup and found matching mood rings. Yes, cheesy...I'll give you a moment to make smarty pants comments. OK, done yet? Are you sure? OK, so where was I? Ah yes, our "promise rings"...

We have been looking at some very lovely rings at IMEC, but we were waiting. It's not like we were waiting for anything...we were just waiting because we knew we would be bombarded by the "Uh, how long have you guys been together? Three weeks?" comments. Last week, however, we decided to go ahead and order our rings.

Chris was thinking that I wasn't all that excited when we did the deed, but there was a reason. See, for the first time ever, I want to marry the girl that I'm in love with (as you may have picked up from my recent blogs). With that in mind, I didn't want to just get rings and not really have the significance behind them of wedding rings. I wanted them to mean more than that, cuz lets face it; these days most lesbians who have made it past the three week mark are sporting bands on their 'ring' fingers (and yes, I have been guilty of this as well-so sue me). This time it is different for me; I can see myself with this woman for the rest of my life...not just until it sucks a few years down the road.

So what is a girl to do? On Chris' birthday earlier this week, I decided that I needed to do what I could to make this special. Our rings were already picked out and ordered, we were already wearing our 'promise rings', so I stammered and stuttered about how I was having a dilemma, and after I had thoroughly frightened her, I got down on one knee and and said, "I don't know when, where, or how, but I want you to be my wife." (Fortunately she said 'yes')

I figure we will have to settle for a commitment ceremony for now. Perhaps we will plan a trip to one of the states where gay marriage is legal, but at the moment I worry that during the next elections in that particular state, they'll decide to ban gay marriage...so we'll see. But in the mean time, we are engaged, and that is the important part.

What we CAN do!

(from EQNM)
Other EQNM News
This is a time of transition for Equality New Mexico. The National Organizations that have heavily supported us over the last few years have made California Proposition 8 their number one priority. What does that mean for EQNM? It means that EQNM will have to operate with one third of the budget it expected. It means that the Board of Directors has had to take extraordinary measures to slash costs and significantly step up our New Mexico fund-raising efforts.

(from me)
EQNM is working hard on getting NM to pass a domestic partnership bill. With their budget cuts, they really need our support. Every little bit helps, and if you don't have $ to spare, they are basically operating with one person, so if you can volunteer your time, your copy machine, anything...it will help. You can make a difference!

www.eqnm.org

Toy Run

The first photo was our first stop. We met Chris' co-worker Eric, his wife Kell, and his step-dad Dale at Eric's house. From there we zipped up the road to the parking lot where the run began. There were a ton of bikes, and of course, no run is complete without a few moronic drivers. Someone almost hit me, and someone did run into the back of Chris' bike...no one was injured, it was just a testament to why group rides are a bad idea. Stupid drivers aside, we did have a great time. It was fun to see all of the bikes and to participate in the ride. Oh, and we found out that Jesus loves bikers too.

oh yeah, more on the boycott front

Apparently the local JiffyLube franchise also donated to Prop H8. I've also gotten word that supposedly it wasn't Blake's Lotta Burger the franchise that donated, but one of the executives. Supposedly. I'm still boycotting their asses. Oh, and did you know that Hastings is another MOOOrmon owned franchise? People worry about the Homo's taking over the world...I think they should pay a little more attention to them (you know; the ones who get bonus points toward heaven for having lots of kids and converting as many 'un-civilized' people as possible---all we get is a toaster oven...and really, why do you need more than 7 toaster ovens???).

Too early to think.

Thanks to those who passed this along...

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/c0cf508ff8/prop-8-the-musical-starring-jack-black-john-c-reilly-and-many-more-from-fod-team-jack-black-craig-robinson-john-c-reilly-and-rashida-jones

I had one of those nights where everything kept waking me up, so I'm not quite sure I capable of writing anything particularly interesting or coherent. So, how about you just check out the little ditty above. I will warn you that if your computer is running a little slow, you will probably have trouble loading it, but it's worth the wait.

Peace and Love my Friends.

Oh yeah, Chris and I are planning on going on a Toy Run this morning. I will try to remember to take pictures.

zipping along

The drive to Phoenix was cold, wet, and foggy. Shortly before we reached Phoenix, the clouds began to disperse and we started to see blue sky. Coincidentally, it's about the same place where the wall of saguaros begin. As it happens, I love clouds, and there were some wonderful images to be had, so I snapped pictures as we zipped along, overjoyed to be out of the rain AND to see clouds again (NM skies are sadly empty of clouds).

I was sad to have missed Jeannette and Megan on our trip, but I am sure we will have another opportunity to meet. Perhaps for the Santa Cruz trip around January 16. (Yes, I know I said I was going to boycott CA, but I already had my tattoo planned...besides I'm sure Teresa didn't vote for Prop H8)...and I still haven't heard from LA Ink. :)

God bless us and save us...

Chris always cracks me up when she does her "God bless us and save us said Mrs O'Davis" in her Irish/Boston combo accent. The phrase comes from her mother, so on the trip I had to take the opportunity to make everyone say it for blog. In the photo is Chris' niece Tracy, Chris, Chris' Mom Mrs Helen, and big sister Sally. It was really nice to be around a family who obviously loved one another. It was quite refreshing as a matter of fact. Thanks Mrs. O'Davis.

Thanksgiving adventures

Chris and I have returned from Phoenix, and neither of us is ready to return to 'real life', especially not me. I am one cranky ol' ho. OMG. I really don't travel well anyway, and I ate too many things that were straight out of container or fast-food wrapper, and I feel emotionally, mentally and physically frakked up. I can't believe I used to eat this way on a regular basis. Traveling is always a good reminder for me of why people who aren't eating anything resembling healthy, feel so crappy. Chalk it up to another lesson for my future profession.

Photos to come, but not today. I got to meet the in laws, and everyone was great. Chris' sister Sally is a hoot. While there, Winkle got her furry little toes spoiled off...and EVERYONE loved her...and she was so calm. Winkle is a dog who needs a human around a lot more than I am. It made me feel rather guilty about her situation, and if Sally became serious about "Winkle can come live with Auntie Sally", I would gladly pack her little suitcase because I know how much happier Wink is with a full time mommy (and a pool!).