looking at it from the other side

I am getting older and not any prettier. When I was young and cute, I just completely discounted older people. Now, I treat young people the way that older black men in the south treat white people. "Oh yes maam..blaaaaah, etc, Fucking cracker. Yeah, I once had a 20 inch waist too, cracker.

what i am listening to right now

Momma? Dadd-eey? ratz? henen? geena?
heellpp. lemme oouutt. im stuck. heellllllllllllp. henreez in trubble. heelllppp! pleez help?

eat? no eat. downstairs? eddy? EEEEDDDDDYYYYY? cum upstrs eddy.

otay. ni-ni.

heavy breathing.

please be asleep.

The Knowmadz

Will found this website which gives detailed renderings of a group of hipsters that lived in our house in the 90's. Wild shit............

http://web.archive.org/web/19971008100722/www.knowmadz.org/house/homepage.htm

Shout out.............if you were a member of the Knowmadz, email me at geener@reeltoreelrecords.com

Be careful what you ask for

I grew up in a pretty religious family, and I truly believed my prayers were heard until maybe high school. My brother and I would sometimes pray together. He was almost 4 years younger than me and the only prayer we ever had in common was that our parents would get divorced. We both agreed that he would live with her, and me with him. Yes, they do not even have names or titles at this minute. Anyway, as of today, by the court of connecticut, my parents are officially divorced.

Of course, this is not what I had asked for 25-30 years ago, it is now a sad shroud that will always taint every holiday in ways worse than had been previously tainted. It will also infringe upon already limited time in terms of visitation time etc.

why didn't they do it when we were kids? Shit woulda been so much easier.

update

So, after hours of worryiing, it turns out that when my brother got there, my father was drunk. He is not normally a drinker, but has been doing so since being served. Total attention seeking act, he calls family member, announces that he is drunk and will proceed to take sleeping pills. Refuses all calls, so we can all believe he did it, based upon a previous attempt. Sean shows up, dad is fine. What a fucking calculating jerk. My parents are such puppeteers. I hope that I am actually a far better parent. I should be, I've had 41 years of practice.

moment

Right now I am sitting here, holding a beer, waiting for a call from my brother to let me know if my father has killed himself.

dog teaches boy teaches dog

the other day, gilly was watching loretta eat her dog food. he immediately puts his face into his own plate and starts eating (well not really ingesting, just chewing, as he does not eat).

gilly has recently become obsessed with turning light switches on and off. last night we came home from trick-or-treating, and i was a little freaked out because backyard light was on, and i knew i had left it off. nothing missing no robbery, but scratching head.

just now, i sat at this island and watched the dog stand against the wall, use her nose to turn the light switch on so she could have light to go outside to do her bizness.

having problems with myself

I am not an idiot. But at the craziest point of my life i think i may have known myself better than i do now. I now float, and not well. I also, cannot deal with the mismatch of self vs. mirror. It's starting to have some feel to me.

where's the camera when ya need it?

En route home from work today, I see a delivery truck worker exit the passenger side of his truck. He looks ragged, like he'd had a rough, rough night. He has a shaven head with stubble and as he turns around to approach the back of the truck, I see that he has 3 pieces of chewed gum placed neatly planted around his head. Priceless.

sucker punch

I got a letter from my (very youngish) ob/gyn stating that he was retiring. (If there are any males reading, keep staid). So, I quickly make an appointment, and I go. I am not a doctor person, but as I love him, I have to go to find out why and what.

He would not share specifics for reason for retire, only that it was a tough decision. I bluntly told him that it was not good for me as he was the ONLY doctor that I felt comfortable with. He does an un-doctorly move and tears up. Gives me a huge hug and tells me that he has thought about our miracle baby often. Gives referral and bye.

I get in the car and cry my brains out. This guy, who is nobody to me really, never been to thanksgiving or has never talked to me about anything personal, was the direct reason I have my son. He had no idea how to contend with my weird blood disorder and managed to research and figger the shit out and go all experimental on it. And now, this guy, a stranger, who has seen me through many miscarriages and through a perfect child, is out of my life. I am seriously feeling a loss.

more fall........

Sometimes it's fun being an almost grown-up.

autumn

Everyone who really knows me, knows how much I love the autumnal rituals. No one on this planet right now loves a pumpkin patch or a corn maize as much as i do. Ergo, this past weekend, 3 hayrides in 24 hours. First two: with-now-single-mom. #1 clydesdale horses , #2 disney-esq farm that i worked on as a kid. next day: with-now-single-dad. totally old-school farm. the geezer who parked the three cars that were there, recommended that we look at the newborn pigs. The barn floor was 3 inches thick with muck that you absolutely had to step in to see the pigs. Once in, I glance over and happen to see a shotgun just propped against the wall within total reach of anyone willing to step in the muck. Totally fucking awesome. I will post the name as soon as i remember it.

subways when i was a renegade child

People still smoked on the platforms and on the trains. The trains were so dirty and smelly and covered in graffiti. The smell of human funk was truly so pervasive, it was not even talked about. I never wanted to sit, because every seat had something gross on it, even though i was a wild tomboy. It was wild and exciting when I was riding with an adult. When I decided to go it alone, it was oh-so-scary, but such a thrill to me.

addendum to: "that was then, this is now"

So my parents would ship me to my aunt mimis for small bouts of time, as per previous post. But then, when I got there, she would also sometimes foster me out. Sometimes she had to work (a nurse at St. Vincents) and sometimes she just had her life. If nighttime, I just went to sleep, and she went out. If daytime, she had another "best"friend who was the head librarian at the library at the W. 4th branch. I was supposed to stay there all day and read. Which I did most days. I have always had better than perfect vision, and in those days my eyes actually hurt at the end of the day for so much i read.

Then one day at school i was talking with a kid in my school who was also a quasi-newyorker. She was like, "you don't know new york, if you haven't been to coney island to ride the cyclone" (yes, i grew up in snotty loser connecticut) .

So, next time i am shipped to mimis apt, she ships me to the library. I am loosely being babysat by head librarian and i decide to duck out to coney island to ride the cyclone. I am 9 or 10. I ask directions, read maps. I get there! I ride cyclone (1$ at the time) and still in love with life and myself

. Then........I don't remember how to get back to mimi's. I go up to nearest cop and lo and behold, they drive me to my ny home. Parents never needing to know. Great aunt, worried, but no real trouble. It all worked out. That was then, this is now.

my view on the veep debates

that was then. this is now.

My parents were always at battle and searching for places to ship me to for a weekend or two. My great aunt Mimi often fit the bill. My great aunt has lived on West 12th/6th avenue since 1970. The drill was that they would put me on the train at a given time and she would meet my train at arrival. As I got slightly older, and she got less able to move around, I would then have to navigate the subway to her house. So, around 9 or 10 years old, i knew how to get to greenwich village from grand central easily. I would have my LLbean backpack and meander the trails to the right track and feel so cool. So free. So cool. So free..............

I cannot believe that i was actually allowed to do this with permission, as it was so friggin dangerous. But, that was then and this is now.

still got nothing to say

Trying to cling to the warmth and yellow of summer, but loving the cool and orange of my favorite visual season waxing. As soon as I am really cold, i will write again about personal things (sorry, but you are warned). In the meantime, I will try my best to gather all friends, for as many autumnal festivities that I can find in the tri-state region. Cannot wait to roll with Gilly and smell the rolling in the leaves, and the rotting apples and the carving of pumpkins and all the stuff and smells that remind me that i am still really alive. Nothing smells better than fall.

in a new place

my work course has added yet another twist or two to my inner spring. my previous responsibilities (i may have, er mentioned them once or twice), include supervising staff who teach the emotionally and behaviorally disturbed, gangster-esqe-types.

in addition to what i have been doing, i will now also supervise a site of 4 classes of autistic high school students.

i was so pumped at first, great location, just off of court street in cobble hill. finally. normal things, places, people to look at on my way in and out. an unusual diversion from my ghetto trails.

first day with students. me. humbled.

you start to look at things differently when you assist in changing a 16 year old girls diaper, and know that she will be forever cognitively lower than your own two year old son. and, on the way home, i could not see anything for the tears.

me. humbled. humbled.

summertime

It's summer. I have wet/sun-brain. Post some day soon. Hope you're having fun.

random moments

I love when I make eye contact with someone I love, and it makes me love them ten times harder. For real.

dodge

As much as the dream of leaving here tempts me, there are days when there is no place more perfect in which to live. Slept in. Picked up, kate, went to riis. Funny, this IS an actual picture of the beach, but it looks way cleaner than in person, riiiiight?

Then, after, calm black ocean went to my FAVORITE bar in NY and played scrabble for a few hours. A perfect day.

waste

I am so-o-o not into keeping up with...um, anything. But, I am a bit ashamed of my lack of movie viewing. When Oscars roll around....um yeah, I WANTED to see it. Yeah, it looked ok. Movies in NY are like an impromptu camping trip. Too much fucking planning. (Albeit I am an incredible planner)

So, my mom was here last night. I act like I go to bed at 9 , like I do every night, riiight? Pumped to play like 3 hours of scrabulous uninterrupted, as I had like 15 active games. Godamnt lawsuit!!!!! Keep getting bumped outta my awesomely, challenging mostfun games. Quinces for 9 million points? Bumped. At for 2? Bumped. This morning , find out that there is a lawsuit and my scrabbled mind will get a bit of a stay. Fuck.

What does a sober person do in bed alone at 9:30 pm? Turn on tv. Click-clickety-click. "Knocked up". Heard it was funny. Waiting for funny, wanting a laugh. Watching stupid. Segue in my head, "you like stupid".

I do like stupid. Most, (almost every single thing) of my favorite things are in the stupid zone. But I gotta say, maybe new stupid is stupider than old stupid? If so, it might be that maybe that new rock-n-roll stuff is a bit too loud.

snitches get stitches

Another one of my former students was shot in the head and killed last week. He was 17, smart-ish and from a nice Haitian family. His family could not control him, as they only spoke Creole and worked 24-7. He was a tad too smart, and a tad too stupid to get too far away from trouble. But B had just managed to complete his GED and was about to start community college in the fall. Not an easy feat for someone who has been a banger since age 10.

The funeral was held yesterday, with more cops on detail than after 9-11. During the service, one of my staff members started talking to a few of B's "friends" aka gang members. All 30 of whom rolled out of two hum-v limos wearing t-shirts with B's picture on them. Two of them, also former "alumni", told this man, (who was always a major confidante to our kids) that they knew exactly who had murdered J but that they weren't bothering to tell the cops, because they were going "to take care of it".

'Man' tells me today, shaking in his boots. Gives me names of the supposed doers (one of them another alum). I implore him to share info with cops. He is too afraid, fucked up from whole scene.

I call cops, give my name, names of perps. Detectives had already had two of the 3 names. Thanked me for info, and said they were on their way to find #3. Asked me to call back when I got more info.

Shake head.

Doing my duty?

Dream #3

Tosssing and turning but on the brink. Begin to release. Blue haze. Small fish and aquatic life in my close range of vision, but blurry. Sounds of something metal touching the back of my head and voices and laughter above. I am scared but am comforted by the small darting animals, too close to focus upon. Then I am in horror to realize that someone was repeatedly dropping a fishing line into the transformed fishbowl of my open skull.

rainmen

I work in a school with classes of children on the autistic spectrum. I have never directly supervised this population, but will be doing so next autumn. New learning for me.

After my nightmare in ct on saturday, my brother called me on sunday and invited me up. Again to hang by the pool. I go, with Gilly.

To make a long story short.....i truly believe that my brother may have undiagnosed aspergers syndrome. And then it makes me think my dad might also have a touch.

They act as if they are listening, but never recall a thing i say, even two minutes later. Their reason for speaking (which is minimal-they do not talk much, aka, at all) is only to be heard.
Attention span: only on the one thing they are doing, for one minute increments. Also, way too easily overly-irritated by their environment.

just a day

As of this date, Will and I have officially been married for twelve years. whew, that's a number. And a really lovely one. Nothing but big old hearts dancing in my eyes.

My father came down yesterday morning from ct and we were trying to decide what to do for the day. Hmm. beach, no. Gilly is tough work at the beach. Museum, ugh, maybe. Park, playground, zoo, no, eh, maybe.

Me: i wish we could just spend the day lounging around a pool.
Dad: too bad you just didn't come up to our house to spend the day at our pool
Me: Let's go.

so we trek it up to ct, a trip that usually takes 1.5 hrs takes 2.5. as soon as we get to the pool, thunder rumbles in the near distance. outta pool and into loony bin of ensuing divorce.
my skin is creeping, every spoken thought pierces me. i am 16 and want to jump into the car of any, many bad boys who will attempt to, and occasionally will turn my anger into a more tangible, less palatable form. i keep looking out of the window. why?

I return to pool. I sit in slight drizzle. reading e. hardwick. the sentences, so beautiful they border on pretentious. rain, sogging pages. i am alternately angry and awed. i look to the woods. i am calm. calm, is a small small time.

return. dad wants to take will and i out to dinner. we go to this all-you-can-eat-sushi-place. stop there. i know that in itself it sounds like a horror show. but strangely enough, it was actually decent. it was a little hidden hole in the wall yalie gem. it was cheap and good. i was shocked.

Drove home with the boys asleep around me. Calm again.

horton hears a holocaust

We have tons'a flies in our backyard. Even when scrupulous about cleaning up the dogshit, food and juice that is often dropped. So I do some research and find these flytrap bags that you fill with water and the flies are lured in and cannot get out. I get psyched, as the numbers begin to decrease.

I begin to examine (ok, become obsessed with this apparatus) and see the horror that is going on inside. The flies fly in and are unable to get out. They continue to fly around until too exhausted to fly anymore. They then fall into the water and drown. They are surrounded by 100's of other victims. Despite the rampant genocide, they still manage to breed and maggots swim furtively in the soup of musca domestica. They swim, beside the dead bodies of parents, cousins and inbred siblings.

I become interested, as another phenomenon begins to occur. I observe a partial food chain in action as jumping spiders, with their excellent vision, begin to congregate at the top of the bag. Flies who manage to escape the feeding predators at the top, find their way into a more prolonged path to death.

At first I watch. I then begin to feel horror. I then try to convince myself that it is better than having them biting us and landing on our food/etc. I then feel guilt. I am back to watching. With guilt and horror.

etiquette

Parents nowadays, mostly suck. So fucking uptight and square and uber-protective. I think I should have been a parent in the 50's-70's.

ahhhh...

my first moonflower from seed.....

giglio time....

baby names

The two dumbest ever:
Boy: Blaine
Girl: Sloane

family portraits

When I was growing up (poor) we never had family portraits taken, in fact there are few family photos of all of us at all. Ergo, my brother and I thought it was important that we had one of us together.

peddywreck

I do not pamper myself. I like to, but it is way low on the to-do list. I decide to run in for a quick pedicure on way home for work the other day. To my surprise, the place I usually go to, has installed flat-screened tv's all around. Showing a Jackie Chan movie, no english subtitles, but I was enjoying it. I slowly notice that every single employee is looking at the tv's and not so hard at my feet.



As a result, my feet look like this...






but if you have the need to feel just a little unsettled, go here

mike

my uncle mike is a very large alcoholic man. He is a very right-wing-ed-opinionated-man. I don't hate him, but if we did not share dna, i doubt we'd have much in common.

he lived next door to us for a spell while i was growing up. i would regularly hear the screen door slamming around 8-8:30 each night ( i was in bed, but never sleeping, and it was still light out). I would run to my parents bedroom window and watch him chuck his keys into the woods. I didn't really know (until I'd eavesdropped) what he was throwing, just that there was some fanfare about it. Regularly, about an hour or two later, I'd be awakened by the door slam again. I would run again to the window and see him lumbering around with a flashlight, looking for his keys in the woods. Kind of like a really more fucked up blair witch vid. Few minutes later the trans-am was on the road.

Holidays with mike: Some holidays were at home, some were claimed. My moms parents owned Christmas Eve. Mike would always arrive earlier than everyone, and would bring his "laundry". As the night rolled on, mike would get more and more intensively republican, and increasingly louder and slurrier. Meanwhilst, my strongly democratic parents would try to pronounce that "it's christmas for fux sake". WE all tried to drop the subject, but every single trip to the laundry room made shit worse. End of sacred night? Mike, passed out in basement with bottle of jack, or whatever in hand. Nobody ever tried to carry him up, not once.

back to the future

This is when I (lived/will live) with andtheend

skip straight to time 6:10. Or just enjoy being voyeurs of our lives.

a small breeze

Summer school has begun. The super-high stress level preceding it, significantly down. Number of vacation days I have ahead of me, 17 officially ( but # upped by as many as go unnoticed by loser payroll secretary). Fuckin' white bitch is officially outta the bighouse as often as she can get away with it. Hello, son. Hello, sun. Hot sweet summer is a sad short spurt around these parts, but it's all i got. And I savor every second of smell of it.

fourtha

Attended quite a number of bbq's/parties et al this weekend. Most memorable statement from someone I did not know, " I've lived in NY for almost 4 years and have never gotten a mosquito bite in that whole time". He was getting bitten as we spoke and he was as astounded as I might be if I actually saw a lion on a safari. Needless to say, he lives in manhattan.

sleepness nights

i have always been a lousy sleeper. as a kid, i would frequently wake up in strange places in the morning, i'd find myself in the bathtub, behind the water heater in the basement, and sometimes even in the yard.

now, i just cannot get to sleep. i lie there, and lie there and every worry passes through, preventing comfort.

sometimes, it's not even worry, it's memories of things i want to remember, and fear i'll forget. sometimes it's weird little things i am inventing (but i usually do forget those)

sometimes it's re-living current events, and feeling that my life is so full that i really should be exempt from the sleep clause.

on the rare occasion that i can, my dreams are so scary, that they wake me up, and i usually opt for tired over fear.

if i drink, i fall asleep easily, aka, pass out, but i wake still tired.

If i take an ambien, or any kind of sleep inducer, i fall hard, and then i am up, like clockwork between 3:30-4:30 and can never fall back asleep.

I have lost the ability to lie down and naturally fall and stay.

This is beginning to scare me. I have no handle on it, and I am always so tired, and look and feel like shit.

Last fall, I took a trip with my mother and Gilly up to NH. I was driving on all these mountain roads and starting falling asleep at the wheel. Drove into the other lane. My mothers answer? "You should smoke or have some diet cokes, that was scary". Me, "why can't you drive and let me sleep?" Her: "Oh no, I could never drive here, I don't know the area, you'll be fine"

i have so many exhaustion contributors in my life.

ode to an onion

so far....

GIHYB and lil Gil are in VA for the weekend. I am alone. Had envisioned all sorts of projects that I would complete and meaningful introspective journeys. This is what I have accomplished thus far:


+











And I am considering going back to bed. What a loser.

The Housatonic River

I just googled "Housatonic River", the name of the river I grew up on, and lo and behold, a picture of the exact area where I played (in all sorts of ways)for 2 decades pops up. This is the boat ramp down the hill from my elementary school, Sunnyside Elementary. There is a long, very steep road about 300 yards to the left that we used to ride our bikes down and ride straight into the river, rust be damned! I once rode in a shopping cart with two fat girls down that hill and it didn't end well. At all. Still got scars.

Anyway, here is my funniest story about this picture. It was January or February circa '76. I rode my bike full speed down the descent and veered to the left at right speed to avoid a wipeout. This was a skill that took some perfecting, because if you did it too slowly you wound up in a ditch, too fast and you wound up splayed and bloodied on the concrete just before the ramp. I had mastered this long ago and made the turn. I saw my 'boyfriend', staring toward the water. I approached and asked what he was doing. He told me that a few big kids had thrown his bike into the river and was trying to figure out how to get it, as he was kind of 'dressed up' and couldn't get dirty. Being the kind of boy that I was, I stripped off shoes, socks and pants and walked straight into the frigid water. Grabbed at the bike and pulled it out. WT...(back then, not as many F's)? It was a busted up piece of crap. As I turn around, he is doubled over laughing, riding away on his bike and screaming....."sucker!" I still have a valentine from him with a picture of a blonde tarzan and a brunette jane swinging from a vine. Ah, love in the 4th grade.

This river used to freeze over very frequently back then, but it becomes an estuary just a few miles from where I lived, which resulted in tides in the river. If the river froze at high tide, there would be gaps between the ice and the water, which made weak points in the ice. We were all forbidden to go onto the ice, but as we were thoroughly unsupervised, we didn't pay the warnings much mind. You couldn't truly ice skate, as the top was too bumpy, but you could walk across to the other side or shoe skate all over the joint. As a result, I fell through the ice into the water many times. The scariest time was when I fell through the ice and was carried by the current, under the ice roof for what seemed like forever, but was probably only 1/8th of a mile. My head popped up just directly to the left of the boat ramp in the picture. Scared, bruised and cold, but fine. My friends running along the bank to keep up with me. Naturally I was not going to go home with my clothes frozen stiff to my skin, so we go to my friends house. Her parents were never there, and we had full reign. Lit a fire in the wood burning stove, with my clothes ON the stove and started a fire. My clothes burned up, but we managed to keep the fire from burning the house down. I went home in her baggy clothes, got a few looks, but dodged a bullet. Looking back upon it, I dodged quite a few that day, and it's hilarious that the only bullet I was worried about was my parents being pissed. I hope Gilly is never as retotted as me.

thoroughly amused/back on the horse

Haven't spent a lot of time on roller coasters in last few years. Got my fill today. Used to be absolute daredevil, nothing scared me. Today? Scared as the most scaredy-scaredy-pants could be. Instead of hands-up, eyes-open, I was eyes scwintched, hands palsyied. Even on the easy ones, I started off SCARED. A totally new me.

Most memorable: Kingda Ka. This shit is absolutely sick. I can't believe i am still alive. WOW. This footage does not really depict it's fright factor. Throughout the one minute ride I just kept screaming, "NO, NO, NO..........................................!" And my whole body continued to shake for about 20 minutes after. Awesomely terrifying.

http://www.sixflags.com/greatAdventure/rides/Kingdaka.aspx

on needles

My dad is from a messed-up, low-rent, irish-catholic family of nine kids and a hefty handful of parents and extendeds. Every single one of them is more of a character than the next. Most tragic, some just colorful. Some so stupid that I should be embarrassed to even mention any of them, and some so witty but 'esprit d'escalier'* , that I should post every-crazy-thing they've ever said more regularly. My Uncle Mickey was the youngest boy, 8th ( i think) in the long litter.

I cannot say how it was that Mickey got fucked up specifically, but I'd bet that his recipe was everything I've said above.

One summer day we were having a backyard bbq. I really don't know how old I was. Somewhere between 6-11. I went upstairs to my bedroom and Mickey was on my bed lying down. I went in and saw he was struggling to take his sock off. I helped him take it off. He then took out a hypodermic needle and stuck it into his ankle/foot. I asked him what he was doing. He said he was sick and taking his medicine. He said to me, with a crying face, " I hope you never get this sick". I sat next to him for a little while, upset that he was sad, and then went back out into the sun. I never saw him the rest of the day.

My mom was crying the next day because he supposedly had stolen her wedding ring. (I heard all of this by picking up the receiver upstairs, which I always did). Mickeys mother, my grandmother was defending/arguing on his behalf. My grandmother was wrong. I'm certain now.

Mickey continued to be a drug addict and cruised the parking lots of fast food restaurants on the CT portion of I-95. I moved to Ny in '91 and was on my way to CT and ran into my Uncle Mickey at a McDonalds rest stop. Right now, I don't remember who recognized the other. But I do remember that our bond was just as strong as it was with his crying face on my bed many years before. He died shortly thereafter of AIDS.

*(this is a new term that i am in love with, brought to me through a long series of events, more on that later)

another needle

The principal of my school really hates "ghetto" school trips. By definition, this includes trips to amusement parks. But, another AP and I managed to persuade her to allow a trip to six flags on thursday for the kids who have earned it. She agreed (the way a cult inductee in a small room for 12 hours, 'agrees') provided that both of us attend. KG has agreed to meet me there and ride the rails all day. Stoked for all the gulliness that an amusement park has to offer, and so happy to ride the rides with kg like i haven't a care in the world.

trying to find the needle in the haystack

After a deluge of all kinds of shit running downhill, I decided to re-entertain the ww thing for real again. I hit the scale and realize that since January of 2007, I have lost 30 lbs. I had lost 30 between sept '06 and jan '07. I now have 10-15 more to go. So this is something. Not much, but something.

I wish

I wish that i was such a great writer that i could describe how hollow and sad i feel in a few beautifully written sentences. i just don't know the words, or do not know how to string them together in the perfect way that accurately portrays my inner me. Sad and trapped in a clamshell. Envious of happiness.

being a teenage girl

Getting 'ready' to go out in jr high/high school. We'd gather at one friends house. Sharing secrets, showing self. Trying on fifty outfits, clothes flying through the air, in piles all around us. Putting on/washing off make up, doing each others hair, giggling like girls for hours. The music on the tape player, seemed to be coming from within. Enjoying one another and our shared grown-up-ed-ness. The anticipation that this was going to be the best party/roller-skating/driving around/movie/party of our lives. Sharing a love of our newly found night. Safe and daring and new. I wish I could have one tiny stem cell of myself then, imbedded into myself now. The level of hope and hunger I had in one day, I could propel into another hundred years.

update on beatdown

Thanks for all your kind comments and messages......

ME: So, I went to work the next day, mainly to send a message to staff and students. Left a little early because I needed to lie down. Feel like I was been beaten with a bag of oranges and my neck feels tight and tough as a pot roast. One of my ribs hurts pretty bad, but I don't think it's broken because I heard its hard to breathe if it is. I kept up appearances and tried to not let the pain show too much, but still emotionally unsettled and feeling pretty antisocial. Just in a semi-deep funk. No. Honestly, I'm freaked out to the bone. I've been working with these kids for 16+ years. I've been accidentally hurt many times before, and I've had parents attack me, but this is my first out and out intentional attack from a kid. I have solid relationships with the majority of my kids (not all, but most). I'm pretty fucked up from it.

TEACHER: Kid made an allegation of corporal punishment against the teacher, who I had to remove from teaching duties until an investigation is completed. Gets spit at and then punished on top of it. No good deed goes unpunished.

KID: Gets 10 days suspension. The kicker...he'll still be in school. In-school suspension. Because they are emotionally/behaviorally disturbed, it is against the law to suspend them at home. "It's punishing them for their disability"

ICING ON CAKE: After I left early, two kids went into an empty room and had sex (with two student onlookers) Girl then claimed rape, and had to be sent to hospital for exam and morning after pill. I'm potentially on the chopping block for "allowing for insufficient supervision of students". Someone oughtta write this shit down.......

shaken and stirred

After he spit into a teachers face today, I suspended a 16 year old man-boy, who I have a pretty solid relationship with. We sit quietly, I explain why and what. He nods head in understanding and I ask him to go to a specific room to write up his version of story. Instead he runs back into the class, bonks a kid in the head and begins to try to conjure up fellow demons. I follow, ask him to leave, and physically begin to guide him out. He postures, pretending to throw fist in my face and left with another student trying to talk him down. I walk out into the hall and immediately see a fist flying down at my face at full force. I somehow manage to duck and avoid contact and even guide arm to his side, trapping it. Other fist flies toward my face. I grab him in a full bear hug with every single ounce of my strength to keep his arms tight to his body so he can't make contact with my face/body/me, while he thrusts and fights and tries to hurt me like a crazed male adolescent. I feel my eyes bulging, holding on like a boa constrictor. He lunges toward me and i split-secondly decide that we/I would be safer on the ground and I take the fall onto my back and head, with him still on top of me and me still holding him, arms locked as tightly as they've ever been. Only kids above us, screaming at him to get off of me, them not knowing that i actually have him trapped. Two adults appear, far too weak and elderly for me to entrust that I won't get punched if I let go. We are face-to-face and he is screaming that if he gets loose he is going to kill me. He begins to head-butt me, hitting my lip and face. I wrench my neck numerous times to try to maintain hold, grip, yet trying to keep my head away from his head that is slamming at mine. from around the corner run two male staff that I know I can trust. They grab him off of me, and I get up, shaking harder than I have in a long time. I was panting, barely able to breathe and every muscle in my body was twitching. By now, everyone has come arunning and is concerned and are-you-okaying. I just stood, still shaking it off and okay-ing them back except for the shaking and twitching and not being able to breathe that well. I do an unusual act of going into my office and actually shutting the door. I stand and continue to shake and shake. I still can't breathe right for the shaking and I can no longer speak for several minutes. I get it together enough to tell an immediate that I am going to sneak out without attention and go home to shake it off. On way out, i am pulled aside by another immediate who shows me the 2-4 minute track of the surveillance video of the attack. I watch and feel out-of-body it was so vicious. I could not believe that i was watching myself. Get in car and begin to sob uncontrollably. almost immediately almost rear-end a car. i pull over. make two phone calls, drive again. almost rear-end someone else. get home. gilly wakes up. i am sobbing like a crazy person. i was scaring him so i splash water on my face, try to calm down. he is nervous so is walking around playing the harmonica, which makes me cry more. i finally get it together. except, hours later, i am still not together.

in the blink of an eye

so strange....

Was examining a bottle just now and wiki'd him.....

update. please read the really brief history section. kills me.

weight watchers

When I was pregnant, (yes, almost 2 yrs ago), I made the tragic mistake of thinking I could eat whatever I wanted. I ate like an animal. I grew, my feet and face grew, everything ballooned. I have suffered from it. My feet got something called Plantar Fasciitis , which still makes running (and even long-time walking), nearly prohibitive. So a few months ago, I decided to do weight-watchers online. I could not commit to meetings, time is too scarce. I gotta say, the shit reallllly works, if you stick to it. I do part-time ww, as I cannot omit beer and general tso's completely from my world. If I sticked to it, I'd be skinny. Half-time, I'm getting there. but got a long way to go.

All's wall that ends wall

Today was the last day of the massacre at maujer street. The guys are finally done. All told, I didn't really lose as many plants as I had thought I would. Had to amend soil, and plants are puny due to my having to cut them all back, but with time they will flourish again. Really I guess it was mostly time that was lost.

But the icing on the cake? The neighbor came over today with an envelope for me. He said, " a little something for your troubles". I came inside figuring it would be a token gift certificate or something. $300 and a note saying, happy plant shopping! Plus we also got some firewood from the tree he cut down in back of his place.

Sometimes people can be really good neighbors. I wish this guy could rub off on the bastard on the other side of us.

.

update: on my way to work today, i noticed that inside his building, in a corner to the right is an altar with a small buddha and some christmas lights around him. also, lit candles at his feet. I love that.

Dream # 2

Got an unexpected nap from 5 to 6-30 today. Had weird dream that this fat hispanic woman was taking care of Gilly who was laughing his brains out. She kept trying to keep him away from me, but he still kept laughing. His laughs started turning into bubbles, and she and I started to compete to swallow them. She hated me, and was trying lie on top of him to keep him away from me. We were both determined to eat all the laugh bubbles, but i was more determined, and i ate more of the laugh bubbles, and had the laughter just running out of me, it was like i was tripping on some hallucinatory drug that i have never tried before. And so beautiful, and perfect.

Got wood?

This is my new gift to myself. Cannot wait to christen it with friends soon. Now, where to get ample supplies of firewood in Brooklyn? Will already told me that my plan of loading the car with firewood from VA won't work, with car already full of dog, us, boy and stuff. Already checked craigslist without much luck. As nutty as I am, I don't envision myself splitting logs for hours, but duraflames, won't cut it for the blazing this crazy-pyro plans on doing.

salt on wounds

I grew up with animals, in the garden/yard/fields/woods in dirt and filth and every allergen imaginable. Now, when I'm already dealing with getting fat and ugly, I now have to contend with pollen? How strong do I have to be? I really would have preferred my physical challenges to have come at an earlier date, when i was way stronger. I don't remember losing this bet.

dream interpretation #1

I have always been a really vivid dreamer. And I have kind of, pretty semi-regularly written them down. So, I will start new thread, so that you can truly 100% conclude that I am bananas and you should not be keeping company with me.

Two nights ago, I dreamed that I lived in a house adjacent to a lake, or some kind of body of water. It was a darkish woodland-set house, with lots of trees overhanging and very shady. It starts with me driving down the sandy road to the house and I see a huge SUV, like a hummer at the end. A swarthy man is at the wheel. I ask him if he needs help, assuming his car was broken down. He glares at me, curses and pulls out.

Cut to the house. It had many, many entrances, and seemed older. like maybe built in the 50's or 60's or something. I was sitting at a type writer in a room off of the garage. (Think the woman in clockwork orange for setting). Suddenly a tow-headed boy pops his head through the door and asks if I want to buy some candy to support his school. i say, "No, you don't belong here, but good luck" and swoosh him out the door. Another boy, and then another, pops heads through. They swell in. I am trying to scoot them all out. They seem harmless at first. They start grabbing at things around me, like pens, paper pads, chair cushions, ipod, etc.

I run upstairs and see that there are tons of kids trying to get in every entrance. It becomes like "the birds" except with boys. And some of the people in the house are friends....Kate G was there, Julia was there. And Will was there, as were about 5 people I work with. We started hammering wood up on doors and lighting fires in the fireplaces, hitting the kids in the head with frying pans, just straight out clobbering them.

I start to make the connection that the guy in the driveway was related, and this was his band of gypsy-boys he was sending to rob us. We seem to successfully have them all at bey. Until one of my teachers assistants comes to me holding one of her socks. In the sock was a little webby coccoon, and in the middle of the cocoon was something that looked like a centipede/half boy like thing.

you won't believe this one....aka PETA be damned

Going to bed last night. As usual, Loretta and I head up to "the big girl bed" and I set to brushing my teeth and, and, and...i guess that's the extent of my beauty regime. Walk around corner and instead of her usual red-eyed, hang dawg glance in my direction, Loretta is actually scampering back and forth across the room. "Shit, effing cat must have gotten up here", I think. So I stick my face under the rocker where she is sniffing, about to grab what I think is my grey cat and send her back downstairs, when WHATTHEFUCK?????!!!!!!!! A fucking rat bares it's teeth and makes a slight lunge toward my nose. I mean my nose, (which is not huge or long) is one fucking inch from this disgusting, angry beast. I almost have a stroke, shit my pants and I'm coming elizabeth all at once. I fall back on the bed, like an overweight scarlett, and call gihyb on the celly to make this go away. ( I then sleep on couch with blankets formed into tents resembling Tompkins square circa '89)

Now, bear in mind, I am not a girly-girl who is inherently afraid of bugs or vermin. I handle worms and bugs regularly, and as a science teacher had rodents in cages (where they belong if they do actually belong anywhere) and as new york city resident for almost 20 years, rodents have been an on/off (albeit mostly off) part of my living experience. However, there are rules to be followed, just like all ghosts and the devil and dolls who come alive at night, must follow. (evil things rule: you cannot harm me if a light, even a tiny light somewhere in the house is on.)

Gross living things rule: Rodents can ONLY live in the basement (until i kill them). They may TRy to attempt the kitchen, (but then I will kill you even more quickly). Under NO circumstances are you allowed above the first floor. THOSE ARE THE RULES! This is the first time you broke the rule. Ergo, you are now dead. I wanted to post the picture but thought some of you might actually feel sorry for the rule-breaking-almost-nose-biting-bastard. Greg extracted the dead beast for me today, thanks. Manny's wear so many hats.

Anyway, for mothers day this weekend, I want gihyb to buy me 100 traps so I can set them everywhere so I can squeal in ecstasy at every snap, and every dead thing I can find. (yes, it's akin to the rosebud bath).

BTW, To be fair to the dead bastard, I don't think he knew the rules. They just knocked down another shitty building on our shitty block and the dead guy and his friends and family were homeless. Sorry, fucker. Snap, snap, snappity snap to all your friends and family. HAppy Mothers day!

alternate life

Most people I know live in the suburbs. I prefer to shop for stuff in the suburbs. I occasionally fantasize about living in a nice, big house in the suburbs for the same price of my lousy-block hovel. I worry though. I have such good friends, so near, and so available. I can walk anywhere I need to go, for anything I need. What if we make the move and become so isolated that we never have drop-by visitors, no sense of community, et al, for 1K more living space? Not to mention that I don't think I could find a friend because I am too weird to have normal friends. I guess I just answered my own question. But it does offer some appeal.

buzzkiller

I am the accidental queen of blowing surprises. Which is no surprise, as I hate surprises. but I have never done it intentionally. Few yrs back, cindy softball having a surprise birthday party for boyfriend, asks me to invite team. I send out invite, forgetting HE is on my team and on list. duh. Surprise 30th for Will's cousin. He comes up for a visit. Invite on fridge. duh. Mamalizza surprise shower. Invite on fridge. duh.

If any of you are planning a surprise for anyone, don't invite me until the 11th hour. Too many visitors, too much duh.

a good day....

what started off as a slightly rough one...(going from not drinking at all to drinking 10ish beers is a tough one to shake off...brrr) turned out to be a lovely day. Went to not-a-surprise-anymore-baby-shower-thanks-to-me for mamalizza and had a really nice time, especially talking to S, who I am sure I would be good friends with if the planets had aligned an inch to the left some years back. Came home, gardened for a few hours, which cleared my head and my spirits (pun intended). And then went to SK's annual derby party.

At both parties, I was primarily with people that I don't know that well, and that is good for me. I rarely attempt to go out of my way to make new friends, as I feel badly enough that I can't devote enough time to my dear ones already. Also, I think that most people find me to be a bit weird (because I am), and so why bother? But this is rude to them and unhealthy for me.

But shortly after the sadly, disturbing race, I was out in SK's backyard playing two-step with Gil, I was casually perusing the crowd from afar and thinking about the day and the growth of Sk's yard and of the slow and constant progression of all things living. I was not really thinking about any of it individually, kind of like all at the same time. And while not the deepest of thoughts, I felt so incredibly rich and so happy to be alive.

growing pains

Just as my clematis plants are almost 4 feet tall and ready to bloom, and my more tender, and established perennials are starting to poke out of the ground, I have to now tear out 1/3 of my garden so that the neighbors can stucco the brick wall that backs my garden, due to leaks. I cried when I realized just how many plants I am probably going to lose. Friends and family scoffed at me, laughing that I was getting so upset, and suggesting that the neighbor can simply replace them. However, I have gotten very attached to THESE particular plants, and like pets, they don't get replaced without mourning.

one flew over the cuckoos nest

Just finished watching this movie, and hadn't seen it in quite awhile. Jacks performance is the best of his career, 'cept maybe for the Shining. It is a slow moving film and so utterly depressing. Perhaps more for me as it rings a little too close to home, as my maternal grandmother (Babci, rip) had been hospitilized many times for schitzophrenia. As kids, Sean and I had to visit her in the hospital on more than one occasion and it was always a terrifying experience.

But, even more terrifying was that when my parents were having "problems" (which was more often than not) they often left us with our grandparents for days. That was the real terror. The food was always expired or weird and the glasses and dishes were dirty. My brother and I were super skinny kids, and these 'vacations' didn't help us at all, as we never ate or drank while there, except from the garden hose or our hands.

My grandfather was a drunk, but stopped drinking after his 2nd open heart surgery when I was about 11.

I remember a fishing trip when I was around 7 years old which ended at the 8-acres tavern with me eating the semi-regular maraschino cherry lunch. I learned how to tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue at around 6-7 yrs old, The bad thing about this trip is that we started home and cars were blaring horns at us like crazy. My grandfather had entered an exit ramp onto a parkway and was going in the wrong direction down an open highway. To make it worse, when he found out that he was going the wrong way, he slammed on the brakes and his toy poodle "topo" fell out of his open window onto the highway, so he had to lumber out onto the highway to retrieve his dog.

Many times at drop off, I'd go into the house and I would hear topo barking and my Babci singing. I couldn't figure out where the dog was as it sounded 'echo-y'. My grandmother had once again, put the dog in the oven (off) because she couldn't take his barking anymore.

I may not be 100%, but it's surprising that I have one iota of sanity. J. Walls and A Burroughs only have a little leg up on me.

still got it....?

This morning, I stopped to get an egg sandwich. Parked car in front of a facility that is a work site for mentally retarded adults. As I step out, one of the men approaches me. "Hey lady? You sexy."

Idol

Tonight: Brooke goes.
Last four: CArly, David C., David A., Syesha
LAst three: CArly, David C., David A
Last two: Carly, David C
Winner: David C.

Alternate Prediction:
Tonight: Brooke goes.
Last four: CArly, David C., David A., Syesha
LAst three: CArly, David C., David A
Last two: David A, David C
Winner: David C.

In summary: Tonight: Brooke goes, then dreads, then syesha, then (either carly or david a). Winner: David C.

guess what I did today?

wrong.
wrong.
not even close.
bingo!
I went to a broadway show!
But not just ANY broadway show......
I went to see WICKED!
This was of course, not by choice. In fact, it was a real act of strength and consideration for others that dragged my fat behind to times square, a place I will usually avoid more fervently than a root canal.
Moms birthday. Sean and I ask what she wants. "To spend time with her kids, maybe see a show?" Next thing I know it, she's here for 3 nights and I have to see WICKED. Wha-wha-wha?
Middle of 1st act, I look over, fucking brother is sound asleep.
To be honest, I didn't absolutely despise it. It was w-a-y too long and the lyrics to the songs were brain-damaging, but the voices of the two leads were great and the sets are always pretty impressive. It was like a combination of all the modern 'my fair lady' rip-offs, carrie, and all those songs on the radio that i don't know.
After show, dinner and drinks. Sean gets to cruise after 3 beers. I got 3 nights? ah well. happy birthday.

American Idol Prediction

I predict that ALL of them will go on to further the creation of crappy music. As far as who gets kicked off this week? ............................Kristy? All I know, is that I recognized like maybe 2 or 3 songs off the entire show.

Mariah Carey has surpassed Elvis Presley in #1 singles? Well, cut off my legs and call me shorty.

regret, maybe?

I did something the other night that i am not proud of today. We live on a horrible commercial block, trucking, and bullshit all day long. I get really angry about the disregard that they have about those of us who live here. I get really pissed, really, really pissed.. I hate them, they think i'm laughable. but they are really wrong.

There was a huge truck parked in front of our house for two days (blocking sun from my plants, blocking sun from our windows, getting my irish up).

So, i decide that it would be really good retaliation to creep out in the night and cover all the truck seats with ketchup. Despite GIHYB discouraging from doing it, I did it anyway. 24 oz of heinz.(and i also have a john-heinz-related sex-story)-later (sorry all you tomatos that died for this act). I was quite pleased about my stunt, until today, whereby they all stomped around in the ketchup that they had thrown onto my sidewalk and then poured turpentine (or something toxic)into my planters kiling many of my daffodils and tulips.

I'm feeling a little defeated. They are bigger and stronger than me. I call 311 on them all the time, but rumor is that they are mobbed. I need help in my fight. Ideas?

drunk mom

Drew a night off of kid free card tonight. Which only works if you also draw the next am off of kid card too, BINGO! So, I go out with friends tonight and have great time. No real antics, just chatty fun, i love you J & S and SL. But now, here I am. Slightly, kinda, pretty drunk. Time to break out the vinyl with Will, play records all night and have a blast..............past life.

Now.....poppa has to swim with noodle at 9. So no fun, for drinky-momma tonight. Really torn about records all over the floor alone....not as fun.

lord of the flies

I know this is posting is of one of the most sensationalized news stories right now, but jeezus, have we become we THIS fucked up? Cause, if so, maybe it might be time to stock the medicine cabinets with cyanide.

I HATED my 3rd grade teacher, Ms Powell. (see previous post, will be a future one as well) but I only once, boldly told her to "buzz off" (and I was trembling and squirting as I did it). It never once crossed my mind to kill her. Even in high school when I continued to regularly egg her house whilst drinking night train, I never once thought about murdering her.

An aside, these kids were special ed kids in georgia. Luckily, my kids lack sorely in organizational skills.

Shaking head.

update

So, after we had all been imbibing a bit last night, J decides to call mean girl (post below) and pretend it was a wrong number. Who answers? An older asian woman with no command of the english language. Triple checked the digits. Whatthe....?

new campaign

I was probably drunk when the memo went out, so please fill me in. When exactly was the bill passed that people should be as fucking mean as they can possibly be (without necessarily going to jail) to strangers?

I just called a friend on her cell phone, turns out I used an old number. Youngish-sounding hipster girl (nonsense music playing behind her was the clue) in a loud bar/restaurant answers.

Me: "Hey, what's up?"
Bitch: "Umm excuse me...do I KNOW you?"
Me: "Oh, I'm sorry is this _____?"
Bitch: "WHO IS THIS!!!!!"
Me: "Oh, I am so sorry, I must have an old number"
Bitch: "Um. Hello. Why don't you check your numm-bbers before you dial? Please don't call me again, I really don't need extra phone calls from losers. Ummmmm, ok?" in most perfect condescending voice ever, and showing off for friends who were laughing behind her.
Me: Blood swirling before my eyes in the pattern of the perfect stroke. "Um, ok, cunt"

And this is one very small example. Everywhere I turn, people are as mean as they can get away being with at the moment. From throwing the groceries with a little too much oomph, to intentionally parking so that it is difficult (but not impossible) for someone to get around them. To the retail worker who responds to a question with such disgust that you check your face for brown smears. To the sanitation workers who look you in the eye, when they spill shit all over your sidewalk and keep moving with a subtle smirk. To the constant and seemingly random choices of property destruction. To the repetitious threatening overtures at innocent normal human interactions. And so on, et al, blah,blah.

As many of you may know, I can be as mean as any motherfucker on earth. However, I guess I just wasn't apprised of the fact that this is what i am now SUPPOSED to do (having always been scolded in the opposite direction). But, now I am so constantly angry that I am a dangerous person. Sort of like the Robin Hood of rage.

EDIT: Thanks for the tip, gihyb!!! So if you have any crank call bones in your body: here's her #. 646-209-7709. Her name, minions.

funk

Every so often, the cruel manifestations of the pathologies of abuse, neglect and ignorance weigh so heavily upon me that I can barely stand or breathe.

harold and maude

love it. don't care if it dates me. just love it. hate whats her face in rosemarys baby, but long to be her h&m character in my real life.....

harry chapin

i was at summer camp the day that harry chapin died. i was in the 'mess hall' when i got a call over the speaker that i needed to get to a phone because my dad had an urgent call for me. i walk slowly to the phone, going through who may have died and how i could handle it, my brother? my mom? grandparents? slowly shuffling through the red clay dust.

Pick up, hey dad. harry chapin died. both of us cry for like 10 minutes. not sure if i'll ever get closer to anyone than my dad at that minute.

birthdays

I fizzled.
On my 3rd grade report card, "Regina is the type of child who never lets anyone forget it's her birthday. She talks too much in class and too often seeks attention from staff and classmates. She seems to be more interested in 'clowning around' than in her actual schoolwork" Yet I was the sole 3rd grade honor student, and got the fucking ribbon to prove it, biiiitch. Ms. Powell was a fucking bitch but she will be another post.

Now: i couldn't give a flyin shamrock that it was my birthday. except that being born on a lesser holiday people tend to remember it and every year I get awesome blast from the past correspondences. This week I got re-intouch with 2 friends, and heard from 3 others that I hadn't heard from, just because they remembered my birthday was on st. patricks day. that's not such a bad trigger, right kg?.

ps. fuck ms powell-fo-evah

totally scared

FYI- Having my son was no easy task. Many, many miscarriages and problems throughout. That being said, he's just the very best thing that has ever happened in my life.
I am oldish, ok, just fucking old. I want him to have a sibling, he needs and deserves it/him/her. And I want it/her/him, i really do. Do I tempt fate and get knocked up? I can't afford straight up adoption (as they don't seem to have payment plans-imo only the really rich get to adopt, because it's at east a 15K straight up thing, and yet it's against the law to buy a kid? adoption IS buying a kid in current mode, i call bs on the whole process). The metronome ticks and I am paralyzed.

freecycle-ing

I am a big freecycler. I have only gotten things twice, but have given a bunch of stuff away. I am glad that someone else can use my leftovers, but I gotta say, the dance is a bit more than I can stomach at times. The flood of emails. The i-need-to borrow-my-goduncletwiceremoved's-car -and-can-come-on-an-odd-numbered-thursday-topickup. Not to mention that anyone under the age of 30 these days does not have one ounce of manners.

short

i am short, but not as short as i drive. i drive as close to the steering wheel as i can get, you can't get a mouse hair between me and the wheel. it's like a "i'm alert and safe because i am closer thing". yet this inspires a constant fear that an airbag is going to explode in my face. in an average 20 minute ride i flinch and deflect my face to the left or right probably like 10 times, just waiting for the thing to blow. i think i may also be a few nickels short of a dollar.

the donner party

this is a topic that is close to me. these tough fuckers (86 people, mostly men, but women and a buncha kids) travelled 2k+ miles from indiana toward california through some of the roughest terrain imaginable, by choice, in nothing more than tents-on-wheels. they made the unanimous mistake of agreeing to a shortcut costing them days and miles, winding up only a few hundred miles from their ultimate destination. in the end this was a fatal decision for almost half of them. the remaining half, (and even half of them never resorted to eating their dead) had been on almost a years journey and spent their days in rugged ways that none of us have ever experienced. i do not begrudge them one bite of their mealchoices.

okay donner props ^^^^.

now....reasons we SHOULD eat people:

1. wasted meat in the ground. we talk about global warming and excess cattle/methane probs etc.

people die every day. eat them. recycling. Or if you prefer, hello, "the Road" (without the hunting)

2. funeral picnics (they aren't new but.....). As long as I didn't look ugly (or really no one had to really carve my bits) , I would rather have my friends and family eat me than pay 5k for a casket. gina-brisket (maybe with some cabbage)! much more fun than current funerals.

3. PC: no more need for formeldehyde and all the other chemicals used for embalming.

4. a ceremony time saver. rather than a funeral and then back to the house for a sandwich, just merge the two.

Recipe for me:
one quart of baby oil
lotsa salt
lotsa pepper
gianormous grill

brown me for one hour (preferably during prime tanning hours 12-2)
crematorium for at least 8 hrs

serve with spicy sauce of choice.

playin god

Ok. I know i tend to be a bit overly concerned about population control, but this is way fucking out of control. This morning, I had a parent meeting with 3 parents, (2 of the kids keep jumping the one kid). 3 mothers.....................26 kids betwixt (all moms younger than me) . Keeping special ed alive. shaking head again.

sniper

So, I am so intrigued by the bb sniper in the projects in front of my school, i decide today that i am going to solicit a shot in order to try to csi the shit. i go out, lurk a bit, case out all the pj windows (thinking that there will be one or two open ones aka: "clues". but gotdamn if not every single window in entire building was open, no green there and my taxpayer money flying out the windows) and stand still (he/she only shoots at stand stills). nuthin. walk back toward door. whoosh. bb right by my ear, hits door and bounces. police come, as usual they are too bored to care and nothing happens. 15 shots thus far, no investigation, no care. isn't that a bob marley song? i have a mtg tomorrow, but monday i am coming in camo with binoculars and i am solving this case.

posh spice

I am not exactly a pop-culture person. Example: tonight was the first night i ever actually laid eyes upon victoria beckham. wow. i thought i was staring nurse zira straight in the eyes.

art (in my world currently)

got home tonight at 6:30. giyhb took giyhbjr to some art party in time square. psyched to have a few minutes alone. on the fridge, a construction paper cutout with some really primative attachments, a one-eyed bear. (i am certain that i will see the second eye in his diaper tomorrow. ) i bawl. my non-speaking sons attempt at artful communication.

extrania

I know that i am a female anomaly, but i absolutely hate shopping. it is too overwhelming and busy and confusing and just a waste of time in my eyes. I walk into a mall or a store and immediately fall into this state of braindeadedness that i cannot explain. i have heard that the oxygen level is elevated in casinos to keep gamblers awakeix (which i like), and i swear that the opposite is going on in the average mall. as soon as i get in, i'm the dumbest mudskipper that ever snailed across a pile of prehistoria. evidence... shit i buy. I rarely shop (for me) and when i do, i walk out with 1000 bags of shit that could go straight into the very large goodwill pile in the northeast corner of our bedroom. you could snowboard down that pile. i am just not good at it.

i used to dress in-my-own-fashionable-ish-way. but i believe that aliens probed me and removed that part of my brain. so now i just wish i could wake up in the morning and jump into my sanctioned union suit so i wouldn't have to think about it, or go to macy's or the gap ever again.

target practice

My school secretary was shot today. One in the abdomen, one in the shoulder. While smoking a cigarette in front of the school. Pause. With a BB gun. Kids in the projects, having a little fun target practice from a window. She is fine. I shake my head.

As a kid, we would frequently use our friends as target practice as we pumped our "10-pumps" and have them walk back and forth like ducks as we shot at them. Getting hit did hurt, it stung, but not that bad. You took your turn and that was that. Unless you ran. Then you got the full ten pump straight in the ass at close range. I only have one remaining BB scar on my pinky. Mind you this was in fairfield county, ct. I shake my head.

Mind you, secretary was extremely upset. Emotionally troubled. Five days off with pay at tax payers expense. i shake my head.

my head never stops shaking.

smoking

i know i am the biggest liar when it comes to cleaning up my act, but i am putting this in writing so that i have to see it and answer to it, and don't do my usual procrastination act. saturday is march 1st. i turn 41 sixteen days later. i need to quit smoking for lil g and for myself and those who love me. i need to be strong and just say, believe and internalize that it is over and on to a better, longer and healthier life.

i feel weak but the sense of urgency is unbearably pressing.

i know i've told you all to leave me alone about it before. please, feel free to harp. i need help.

grown up on the outside

wow. i am a little in shock about how i just spent my last 15 minutes. figuring out the exact date on which i can retire. some bill was just passed today, allowing me to retire with 25 yrs of service at age 55 (instead of previous 30/62). i can officially retire on march 17, 2022, with 30 yrs on the grind. happy birthday to me. 2022? sounds a l-o-n-g time away and a lot of "you fuckin' white bitch"es to come. hope we'll at least be riding around in jetson-like flymobiles.


update: turns out that I can officially retire on Dec 2, 2017 (9 and 3/4 yrs from now) but won't be able to collect pension for five yrs after that. So I will need to find a source of income for 5 yrs starting at age 50. avon rep, envelope stuffer, fluffer.....suggestions?

d-i-v-o-r-c-e

So, after 40 yrs of praying (ok, maybe i stopped awhile ago) , g-d finally answered my prayers. must be either an effin bastard or have a bad case of cpt (for you pc types, you may substitute the "c" for croxton). anyway, my parents are finally splitting and it's just baffling to me. for years they existed within their hate-love-python-grip-of-slowly-killing-each-other and then poof. they should have probably never made the decision to be married in 10/66, but i arrived 3/67, you do the math, wizard.
they were too young, too undereducated, too inexperienced and drenched with small town societal and familial habits to ever understand what they were up against and how many strikes they had against them from the start. and except for the young part, they still are. the phone calls now are so strange, i am counseling/raising two emotionally-aged adolescents whose real sense of hope and aspiration had been put on hold 40 years ago.

blogging rules?

If someone comments on yer shig, are you s'posed to respond to the response? I am new to the scene and do not want to buck the established blogging protocol.

On that note, i still question why i cannot write "my husband" in lieu of dh, "my son" in lieu of ds, or my wetf in lieu of ur wetf on urbanbaby w/o getting banned every five to ten days.

Single, childless (aka, almost allamyfriends) friends, just ignore last paragraph.

julianna wetmore

I think about this girl all the time. I cannot get her story out of my mind.

http://www.mymultiplesclerosis.co.uk/misc/juliannawetmore.html

a more current link:

http://www.julianawetmore.net/

grapes of wrath

about 10 years ago i had a 9th grade class for an english elective course. even though i taught science, i had the right degree and my program mandated it. now, bear in mind that the schools that i have always worked for are entirely special ed and in bed-stuy brooklyn. comprised of entirely emotionally and behaviorally disturbed kids. in other words, they are not easy.

despite its lack of overt hip-hop/sex appeal, the complexity of the text and their complete lack of grade-level reading skills, i decided that we were going to tackle the '"grapes of wrath".

i was the butt of uproarious laughter when i asked if we might have it in the book room. so i bought 12 used copies with my own money and off we went. the kids rolled eyes at first, told me "to fuck off that they weren't reading a book with so many fucking words", threw books across the room, etc. Days of resistance, but eventually was able to start. Not to stand and deliver here but, long story short, kids got into it, and actually completed reports (with hand-over-hand assistance) that were remarkable for "them".

So, I decide that I will show them the original movie. Kids are pumped to be able to stare at a screen instead of doing anything else, I am nervous due to the film being black and white and maybe too boring.

Opening credits pass, groans, "this sucks, i'm fucking out of here". Then a few silent moments. On edge of seat, I race, "maybe they like it? yay, for me, i'm a great teacher!"

Then......."what the fuck?!!! These people are WHITE??!!!! We've been reading about a WHITE family for two months? !!!! get the fuck outta here. only a family o'niggaz would travel in a (insert corny accent here) JALOPY looking for money.......I'm outta here, this is bullshit....."

Stop. Open. Power.

deep throating

So, gastrointestinal probs requiring further testing, had to have an endoscopy. having just come off the easy-peasy colonoscopy, i was not too worried. get in, to my relief, same anaestheiosologist. then wtf? needle jabbing everywhere. and huge bubble of sleep juice forming in my hand, instead of doing it's tour of duty through my veins. let's just say...reconfirmed my already ridiculous fear of needles, and still feeling the bruise almost 2 weeks later.

that was the good part.

then a ridiculously large tube forced like a firehose down my throat, as i fight and thrash like a fish on hook and non-stop vomit burns my face and mouth for 10 minutes straight, totally awake due to above.

saw pictures of my guts later....maybe time to start watching my health.

back in a few weeks for complete results.

hail mary, mother of carl

gihyb and i moved from bedford into a sweet duplex apt on ainslie st circa '96. It was such an old established blue-collar, italian family block, that i felt that our moving-in-process, had to be somewhat civilized. But by the course, it was done with a motley cast of friends in the band van and I was a "littlebitnervousaboutwhattheneighborswouldthink". Look left, look right. Lawn chairs every direction, studying us. Shit. Like a gazelle at the watering hole at sunset, one of the sitting ones saunters toward.

M:"how the fuck many of you you are moving in there?"

me: "um only 2 of us, hi i'm..."

M: "You got a lot of shit for 2 people, how much is ray charging you for that fucking place?" I answer.

M: "Holy fuck!!!! Hey, (insert old-lady-name) Can you believe these kids are paying XXX for R's shithole!!! WTF!!!!"

Large crowd, laughing, and judging and laughing, coughing, laughing. Move in, and as darkness approached, audience lessened, lessened vanished. (nightfalls...coincidentally spent night in one of the best bars ever in ny at the end of our block that happened to be the closing night of said bar-light a candle here)

Next am. breakfast run.

M: "Still fucking can't believe you are paying X for that place. Are you rich or crazy?" (mind you the apt was uber cheap, even by williamsburg standards in '96. )

me: "ok, where can i get an egg sandwich?"

M: "who the fuck knows. you never heard of cooking, oh yeah, you're rich." puff, puff. "Oh, and here's another one", (approach her 40 yr old son) "he'll never be good for nuthin".

c: "thanks mom, have a great fuckin day", sparks up a cigarette.

M: "yeah, maybe, you can get up before fucking 3 today and fucking do-o-o sumthing?"

For the next few years EVERY single morning.......
Me: "Hey, Mary, good morning"
M: "well, I don't really know what's so fucking GOOD about it, but if you say so"

And for the next few years EVERY single night......
C: "hey, you going to the store?"
gihyb or me: "Yeah"
C: "wanna get me a beer or a smoke?"
Gihyb or me:
"Um, maybe."
"um, no."

I still see him everywhere.
I haven't seen Mary in almost a year.

But once the weather warms, I will walk a little extra up that block so I can hear "your kid is so fuckin cute, how the fuck did YOU get such a fuckin cute one?"---or----"can you buy me a smoke, or a beer?"

treehuggers anonymous

I'm sure you've read it, but if ya haven't, our mayor has approved the planting of like 100,000 trees on our city blocks. All you have to do to get a tree in front of your place is fill out this form. You don't even have to own your joint, just have to meet really easy and minimal requirements for acceptance.

good for everyone

yes, i know i just posted about the bulgarian orphanage. but the point i want to make here is that if you are smart, stop having a gazillion kids, we're killin our planet. i'm not judging you, just trying to re-direct toward adoption. if we get them earlier, they will be fine. and if more people do it, we won't have the previous post probs. just, please, consider adopting. i personally know so many awesome kids who are "on-the-market"(granted they are all teens). If people were more interested in this idea, we could make the adoption process happen younger, cheaper, faster and less painful for all. so much better for our world.

things of yore

i love, and wish i could save this house. and it is scheduled to be razed to make way for another shitty condo, despite being of historic interest, having been the main home of peter cooper when he owned all the lands surrounding.

even though the link i added is older, it still hasn't been sold/or maybe it has but plans still aren't in total implementation mode yet.

ok, i'm not being totally honest.....another link

i still love it, and wish it was mine.

feeling an urge

Feeling just a little stirring. It pokes and itches at me, here and there. A calling to green felt and dice. Throwing 27 times in a row (my record. and i made someone 10K that night at a lousy table in AC). No longer have a partner, so need to work out a trip, despite the fact that most of my immediates aren't into the gaming thing.

bulgarian orphange

I have a 13-14? yr old who lived in a bulgarian orphange til the age of 10-11. she was raped a gazillion times, fact(s). that in itself is horrible. but it makes me think about all else she dealt with. i cannot even imagine the psychotic visceral way in which she approaches the world. i am really really good with really really 'bad' kids. i have a hard time with her. she has no sense or understanding of 'the good or positive' side of life, ergo, no enticing, no encouraging for the better. she is a victim of an internal war that i cannot cure. she was adopted by a very wealthy family, who i am certain, are regretting their pro-social choice. she is a living zombie. and i wish i could help her.

2nd note. i cannot believe how brave her adoptive parents were/are. i wish i had such gumption. then again, maybe i do.

15 avocations

things i have wanted to be when i grow up, not in any particular order.

1. toll booth collector. (quiet at night, listening to the radio)
2. veterinarian
3. writer (ok, feel free to loflwrotflyao)
4. horticulturist (not sure in what capacity) just good at plants and know a lot about them.
5. judge (never really wanted to be a lawyer though, even though the practice lsats are fun)
6. Horror film screen-writer. My favorite genre, and anything good rarely written. Still hope here.
7. truck driver (quiet at night listening to the radio, plus they have cool gear, things you can plug into lighter and cook meals etc)
8. nun. only for short time, after watching sound of music for the first time. actually i guess i just wanted to be maria, except that i would marry someone nicer than the Baron, who is a bit of a douche.
9. translator- um, i really only speak a little spanish. but i did check out all of the books on esperanto when i was in jr high school. thought i was onto something there.
10. gymnast (not sure if it qualifies as it usually is over by age 19) but i really really liked doing that.
11. Major league baseball player. 1st female player ever, and now with the added bonus of being over 40. i believe i am on my way here, veeerrryyy soon.
12. Inventor. I may actually have a shot here, i make up stupid and awesome shit all the time, and it keeps getting better.
13. marine biologist (actually took marine biology classes at yale my senior year of high school and started out as bio major as freshman and quickly changed to english because i preferred my classmates better, what a fucking loser).
14. Thrift store owner. Pre-ebay, pre-me-having-any-$-dream
15. Williamsburg trailer park owner. Still have hope of buying a lot and putting 25 double-wides on it, and raping trust fund skinnies for 3k per month, while sitting in a meshed-lawn chair in the sun all day.

fancy things

Having grown up as blue collar as they come, I have been very fortunate. I got the most important lessons at an early life, "no, you cannot have that as we cannot afford it...the end" which ultimately meant learning the value of things. But I have also inherited the blue-collar curse, I fear.

GIYHB and I make an ok living. But as a working mom (omg, i cannot believe that i am defined as a working mom...i was just a kid yesterday) with lots of commitments and friends, I value time more than anything. This being said, I have a hard time "hiring" anyone to do anything for me. The bathroom floor needs tiling? Hmm, let me learn how to tile. The blah-blah-blah needs blah-blahing? I'll start a company that blah-blahs. That's just how I am. Even at work, I'd never ask anyone to do anything I wouldn't do. In fact, just go home, I'll do it.

So, my problem now. My house needs cleaning, regularly and thoroughly and even more regularly. Between lil G, Big G, our pets, us , on-going household projects and our frequent visitors, it's daunting. I had someone come once, and was so horrified the whole time that it was stress-inducing rather than relieving.

I feel too fancy hiring a regular cleaning person, even though we can afford it and desparately need it. How can I get past he feeling of being too big for my britches, and just do it?

all guts, no glory

Stopped eating yesterday after liquid lunch (not the fun kind of liquid lunch, more like the broth from a box-lind-of-liquid lunch). 6pm last night start chug-a-lugging some pretty foul tasting liquid. Much like gatorade, except sans flavor + salt. And I had to drink a gallon of the potion within 3 hrs. After 5 1/2 hrs, I finish, after throwing up into my mouth every so often and many trips to the can. Starving, dizzy and nauseated.

Wake up at 7, exhausted, but ok-surprisingly not hungry. Last drink of water 8 am, and was pretty thirsty until after 2:00 appointment. But, not too bad.

Honestly the thing I was most afraid of was not the miles of lubed-tubing headed for my back door, but the IV. Anesthesiologist, was awesome, was tolerant of my needle phobia and had it in, and me drugged in two shakes of my own tail. There was a video monitor directly in front of me for my viewing displeasure, but I was out throughout the entire violation.

Immediately after (which according to KG was all of 40 min, including a brief "sleep-it-off session"), was up and about, albeit slightly stupefied. Needed fish sticks, mac-n-cheese (from the box kind) for dinner so had slightly surreal grocery store trip en route home.

All in all, I'd rate the colonscopy pretty high in terms of medical procedures. Little uncomfortable, but very tolerable. If you have to have one, or think you should, go for it. Sorry to sound like Katie Couric, but really for such a small amount of discomfort, you could really prevent yourself from later troubles. Your guts will thank you for it.