Maintain

I'm walking down Main St., Guerneville when it dawns on me I need to visit my buddy Sam and get my hair cut, so I travel to the corner of Church and Main where the ol' Bar and Salon is. You have to walk through this rank, dangy bar to get to what used to be a dual-level laboratory turned to modern slice-and-dice Beauty Salon. I walk in and EVERYBODY is SO happy to see me, kinda like the weird nurses and doctors in the dream sequence scene of Pee Wee's Big Adventure, big red smiles and crazy clown eyes, and yet I can identify everybody! Ahhh!!! SO Sam takes me by the shoulder and plops me into her chair on the lower level, which upon closer inspection one would discover that the lower level was in fact an empty shallow pool. Ok. Anyways, Sam starts in on giving me a TOTAL work over, including sewing fake eyelashes to my real ones, insisting that it'll give my eyes the much needed oxygen that they seemed to be lacking. On my face is Sam, sewing away, and at my feet is Owen, in drag of course, but not his usual dragness; fucking scary, Pee Wee clown drag. Uggh! He's painting my toes with clown-red color and Sam has completed one eye when I've just about had enough! I jumped up and made an escape for my life. I run out the door and all of a sudden, I'm standing next to the Primary Grade building at Guerneville School, and I'm Sheryl Crow. Ok, seriously? WTF?! I start walking down the concrete ramp towards the play yard, in that Sheryl Crow, catwalk style, when all of a sudden the entire yard is COVERED in mud and grass and is completely flooded. Suddenly, I turn into a horse and start romping around in the mud....then my puppy starts howling and I wake up in the MIDDLE of an pretty intense adrenaline rush.

No wonder I was keeping the panic at bay all day!

In hindsight, it's pretty amusing that I would conjure up a seeming meaningless scenario such as this! But I spent a could portion of the day ignoring the voice in my head that tries to hard to convince me that I'm crazy and I should be locked up. When I can't talk it down, I ignore it, so that's what I did today.

Today, the last day of Spring Break; I usually look forward to getting things back on track 'cause that means it's a break from my family and everybody has their respectable places to be during the day. But this year was bitter/sweet, because I finally got to experience that simple life and solitude that I've been desiring now for months; what a quick end to a truly enjoyable vacation.

My favorite things about this vacation:

-Playtime with my babies, especially playing Apples to Apples when the power went out

-Watching the infant sprouts of the beginnings of our garden emerge more and more by each day

-Chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate

-Getting to have the WORST period of my life at home, in bed, not in a classroom

-Time to sew

-Rearranging our home so it becomes just that: Our Home.

-Reconnecting with the hubby in our room, with a door that has a lock on it

-Having a full refrigerator and pantry

-Reading a book that wasn't assigned and FINISHING it

-Watching endless episodes of MASH till the wee hours of the day with my beloved

-Making myself a new bag...yes that's right. This one's for ME:

One of the CUTEST skirts-trajedies turned to new and improved awesome hippy girl bag, that's all for me, me me ME! It wasn't mine while I was making it, but I've decided that I deserve it, after all that work, not to mention just how far I've come these past 6 months.

Tomorrow begins the onslaught of getting back on track, into a semi-new routine, and finding the strength to complete homework again.

Filth

This was one of the biggest reasons why I didn't want to wake last Saturday Morning...but would you believe me if I told you I actually managed to get these monsters to clean up this room in 20 minutes?! I know; fucking amazing!

I find it so fascinating how children can be perfectly content in their little worlds of filth and completely and total disorder. It's like as though a toy isn't truly loved unless it's been stepped on, peed on, half broken and established permanent residence on the floor. I remember as a child, the entire side of my bed, which there was a 1.5' gap, was FILLED (as in Landfill!) to the top of MY bed with toys, garbage, papers and clothes. That landfill remained for MONTHS on end until my mother was SO sick of it, she'd threaten to sell me if I didn't organize or put that shit away. But who am I to say anything, right? I mean, look at what USED to be my room....

Yep, that's our living room! For the past 14 months the hubby and I have been camped out in the living room...and why? Well, at first, it was to give the monsters a room of their own, especially the boy monster, but then after a year of that crap (you wanna talk about filth! oye vey!), we were pretty much done. So I set out looking for a bunkbed, found it, got that bitch installed tout suite, downsized toys, books, etc. and voila! Monsters have a room that they share! Hallelujah!

So yeah, here's my old "bed" room; as you could understand, I wasn't necessarily ready to jump at the opportunity to entertain any house guests with the "love pad" sitting right there, en plein aire. So now, 14 months later, we've moved our bed BACK into the original room which it once came, and it is GLORIOUS!

I've often tried my best to not bitch about the state of living myself and my family are subjected to on a daily basis, because the fact is: we are INCREDIBLY lucky (YES! Lucky!), whether or not we deserve it, to have 4 glorious rooms inside a HOME that isn't in any threat of anything, with the exception of a very moody, glorious chocolately-brown river who's swollen state has many Rats a tad worrisome.

<----Love Grotto #9.

Not too shabby. A bit weird, but HEY! At least we have a door, and a lock, and did I mention a DOOR? No more having to "pretend" to be asleep when really all you're trying to do is achieve ONE morning orgasm, meanwhile the children are running in and out of your "room." Ah....privacy at last!

I grew up in a house that had little to no privacy for most of my childhood, so certain things don't really bother me. In addition to that, we also had a very, VERY bad sense of household cleanliness, ie, it was considered a hazard unless it could self-ignite.

*sigh*All is well, now, because I have a DOOR and I can sleep naked and LOCK the door if need be. Ah, I believe it is the small things like these that set the adults apart from the children.

Hail (Hell)

We stood there in awe as the skies pounded our unsuspecting deck and yard with little pebble-sized chunks of ice. It made me feel so microscopic, insignificant and terribly fascinated by this something of nature and just how beautifully out-of-control is was.

This beautifully coordinated dance of mother nature mimics much the same of how we humans coordinate amongst each other; in rhyme, reason or angst, we circle around one another, bleeding hearts or stealing thoughts from one another...

...oh, there I go again; what can I say? It's the poet in me!

I love feeling helpless against mother nature as she gives us her display of sheer power over the elements; today left me breathlessly anxious for more! It wasn't that long ago, during one of the rare thunder/lightning storms that my reaction deepened the symptoms of anxiety even further, rather than giving me that same helpless and yet excited feeling. Today felt great because for the first time in many many months, I was genuinely excited and thrilled to be witness to the event!

This journey I'm on has taken me to new places and given me the opportunity to have new people in my life. As usual, I'm tempted to jump headfirst into any new relationship that arises, and yet now I've experienced the unusual timidness that usually comes when I'm up against a very strong personality. I feel like I cannot be myself; that ME isn't good enough or something. Wow, what fucking bullshit that is! I guess, rather than needing to tune myself down, I need to get over my jealousies that cause me to feel this inadequate. Hell is inside yourself, waiting to take it's chance to swallow you up, and at the helm is YOU, driving the nail further.

I can finally feel a shift from the old me; it dawned on me that I'll be 26 this year, giving me that much more chance to push through the shroud of crap. This shift involves becoming more apathetic towards those who harmed me (you KNOW who you are!!!), being a more involved mother (for GOD'S SAKE Mommy needs alone time before she does that weird head-turny trick again), and developing new friendships. The friendships part is kinda freaky for me 'cause of my history with incorporating new people into my life. This includes, but isn't limited to, coordinating new friends and husband together; always adds to the fun!

Today I got to explore one of these new friendships today...ok, not gonna lie, freakin' me out 'cause I DO NOT want to fuck this up! Boy, why so insecure?! 'Cause I'm a psychotic bitch who couldn't leave her house for a month and has some serious "letting go" issues; why would somebody new want to be my friend? Oh wait, yeah....'cause I'm pretty fucking insanely awesome too, and fun and likes super-awesome cool shit. The best part, I think, is I don't need to change myself as in previous friendships. Nope; this bitch is being sold As Is.

Been coming to a lot of conclusions lately....friendships, my marriage, my kids, school, career....oye! the career! Why on Earth have I been at the Chamber for 5 years? Oh, 'cause for 4.5 of those years, it's been pretty awesome and fun! Now? Na, not really....not even tolerable anymore. So NOW WHAT?! Shit, now what is right!

Showers

Lately I've been coming to so many realizations that it's amazing that the fiber of my very being hasn't been ripped to shreds. These epiphanies have created an overwhelming sensation of simultaneous ear and joy, like looking into the eyes of God and finally understanding everything. In these moments of pure clarity, I'm finding myself sitting on my bed, watching the rain fall from the redwood limbs high above me, smiling at the wonder of how was I so lucky to live in my dream?

In one month I will be the star attraction at two local venues in which I will sign away my name to the many admirers I have collected this past year. At first this seemed a daunting experience to behold, for I am not one to be comfortable in crowds (although I can manage!) and I certainly do not know quite what to do about all the positive attention I'll be receiving. I did read once, thought, that people with low self-esteem do not take compliments well, and in fact deter them from happening; keeping this in mind can be challenging, but on occasion I have actually remembered this and instead of turning my face away or rolling my eyes, I can muster up a "Thank You." Part of me feels that if I accept positive attention (or praise) then the giver is now owed praise by me as well, so I sometimes find myself digging up some gold on this person, throwing their praise to me right back at them. With this in mind, I will graciously accept my time in the limelight; bask in it even.

One of these epiphanies dawned on me a few months back but was enforced by a conversation today. Since I was a child, I have often been plagued by the anxieties surrounding the selection of a career, and maybe the extra emphasis placed on me by my parents hasn't helped much. I wanted to be a rock star, a teacher, an anthropologist, an artist; ultimately I wanted to be famous for SOMETHING; I wanted to be seen. I still do, however. This newfound fame I've achieved at such a young age has me worried about the aftermath when the bubble has popped. However, who's to say that it ever has to end if I hold myself up by grace and humility? And who's to say I can't do it again? and again and again? The conversation that took place today involved my friends planning my lie for me, saying if I write another and another and another that I'll end up working for the publishing company (something I NEVER thought about!). While I marveled at how they were living vicariously through me, the subjects didn't seem daunting or invasive of my family life: could I become a professional author? And, like, actually make real money? And not have to be subjected to welfare programs anymore??? Really? Really???!!! I had NO idea!! I'm already lined up for TWO projects; I just need to get the ball rolling once school is over with.

I can honestly say that I'm proud of myself, not just for these achievements, but also for my ability to have gotten through the biggest nightmare of my life. I can honestly say that I was sure I was heading somewhere bad, the place of no return, and I am forever grateful to the help I received, inside and outside. While I still experience anxiety symptoms my ability to handle them and make it through the day has improved a billion-fold! And not once has any drug slipped passed these lips to accomplish this!

Creation

There's so much to write! Where to begin?

The thoughts are swarming in my head like bees; creating a cloud so thick, it's damn near impossible for me to get any words to come through; anything sounding somewhat interesting and melodic to write escapes me in most moments through the day. I enjoy watching the swarm, but really, all I want to do is understand it.

This has been one of the worst menstruation periods I've had in many many many months! A 3-day grump-fest paired with hemorrhoids (I thought only pregnant women got those!!!) on Spring Break, having to entertain two children 24/7 while keeping the house clean until our housing inspection...needless to say, I've uttered the "F" word more times than should be legal. And while most my family and friends have gotten the hint to duck and stay low, that loving partner of mine still has the knowing capability to wrap his skinny hippy arms around my pathetic frame, kiss me and then tells me, "shut up, it's all because of that damn Super Moon."

BTW: I love Rush; can't really get over that, and I don't think I ever will. I love that as I write this, that skinny hippy guy I mentioned earlier is down in the garage cleaning to "Closer to the Heart." My gosh, how lucky can I be? Honestly, as a girl the only requirements of my dream guy would be he had to have long hair, a big nose and must LOVE Rush. Check, check and check!

Been reading a book by Heather B. Armstrong "It sucked, then I cried." She writes the Dooce.com blog, a deliciously weird, totally-awe-inspiring mommy blog that a freak like me can savor in. I swear, I have NEVER laughed so hard, with each turn of the page, a new line or plot to the story told in her completely uninhibited blunt and honest potty-humor style. Love it! The story is really about how she had a breakdown from Postpartum Depression, something I also suffered from, and her recovery back to a somewhat better life. Reading her stories brought me back to my memories with my babies; my first, the disaster that was me and Jesse trying to fumble our way in the dark with our hands tied behind our backs; and my second, this time fumbling with a floodlight on (a little bit better!). If you love Margaret Cho, Ren & Stimpy and Radiohead, definitely check out her book.

Today, grumpy bitch Mommy went on a little drive to get some perspective, course at the time, I didn't realize that's what I was doing. After dropping off Monster #1 at the M-I-L's, I drove towards town's Safeway when I saw a friend hitchhiking and thought, "FUCK!!! How can I possibly drive by him and NOT pick him up????" So, there I am, almost running his stupid ass over, in he gets and needs a ride to Monte Rio; ok, wasn't planning on going THAT far, but whatever, I've got no gas, you've got no money, let's fucking go for it! It means I don't have to go home right away!

After dropping him off, I felt it necessary to stop by my OG's house for a change; course she's not there, but of course, my beloved Uncle Dennis (UD) lives there, too, so how could I NOT say hi? In I go and out I come 2 hours later, feeling slightly lighter and yet sadder.

Have I ever mentioned that I LOVE old people? Ok, I fucking LOVE old people; they're hilarious 'cause they don't give a shit about the things that come out of their mouth (and I've heard some pretty raunchy, amazing shit spewing from those gummy mouths), their old so they know EVERYTHING, and they have an endless supply of candy.

So now, while UD isn't old by normal standards, he is in the sense of his health, having been surviving from HIV for over 20 years. Today, we talked and talked and talked (or, really I just listened, 'cause he really wanted to tell me his story) and it dawned on me: My god! He's going to be gone! And I'm not going to remember these stories!!! They'll be gone with him! Just like Grandpa Chet's!

I've not often asked people who are dying of a debilitating disease how much longer they think they have, but there it came, flying out of my mouth before I even had the chance to stop it, examine it and stick it behind my ear for a while. He didn't seem all too stunned, but was certainly surprised by the level of intimacy it brought our conversation, and to me, I had sounded like my main purpose of asking was so I can make my plans accordingly. He answered about 5 years; 5 years! I've known him for 8 years! Jesse and I fell spent our first night together on UD's floor (where his dog, Spike, peed on our feet as we slept=thanks Spike!); UD, he's such a messed up, beautiful human being! And we only get him for another 5 years?! The cogs in my head have been spinning ever since.

Last week, I sat in the waiting room of the counseling/dental clinic in town, awaiting my counselor to pop her little fro-head around the corner and whisper my name. I read a magazine (no idea what the rag was called!!!) as I waited and came across an article about women entrepreneurs and the story of one struck me. She started an Oral History business; not only have I been wanting to do oral histories for the sake of preservation, I've also been considering furthering my writing skills and hopefully developing them into some sort of measurable career. My conversation today with UD struck a cord in me; he is inspiring me to begin this path, and I find it more than appropriate that it start with him.

Three days ago, my friend Cris gave birth to her baby girl Willow and yesterday I got to visit and have some squishy-baby time. Honestly, kinda freaking me out, 'cause this is the first time in 5 years that I've held a baby and HAVEN'T felt like "Wow, I'm SOOOO glad I don't have to do this!" In fact, today, I was over there helping jump their vehicle and was secretly crushed when they didn't ask me to hold the baby...omg! NO! I do NOT want to go through that again!!! But shit! Maybe MAAAAYBE one more after 2012??? Fuck....stupid clock, why don't you just BREAK now?!! Not to mention, having one right now would be completely irresponsible; but the thought it kinda fun to play with. I've got 6 more years on my IUD, so maybe by then, who knows?

Crazy. Shit. Life.

Maladjusted Child's 15 Minutes of Fame

Six months worth of work plus 6 more months waiting for the finalizing process, I now have in my hands the book. This is the book; my book, our book, the book. It hasn't quite hit me yet. I want so badly to enjoy this moment, this 15 minutes of fame, and damnit! I deserve to fucking enjoy it! So why the awkwardness? Why the bashfulness? Why do I feel undeserving of this attention and yet I thrive on the compliments and such? Ugh! It's such a frustrating feeling not knowing how to act.

How DO I act? Grateful? Thankful? Proud? Shy? WHAT??!?!?!?!?!?! I don't have the skills for this set of emotions...

It's weird seeing my name on Barnes & Noble and Amazon. It's WEIRD because I feel like I've punched through the glass ceiling of my own making and I'm here where the "they's" belong. I'm one of the "theys" now? I don't know about that! Maybe what I'm most afraid of is enjoying the attention too much and experiencing the shock from when it's gone. I felt the same way after I had both kids, when the newborn excitement waned away. It's all so very strange.

So I'm settling down to being proud of myself and John for accomplishing this book; I'm also allowing myself to accept the praise and attention; it doesn't make me a vain person. We've set a date for an Author Event at River Reader, and I'm already getting nervous with the number of people showing up to this thing. My only concern really is what color Sharpie should I use?

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Arcadia Books