Our Favorite Friend - Curious

This is our friend. Her name, like every other one in our blog (with the exception of mine and Dawn's) has been changed. Our kids call her Aunt Curious, so we'll go with that. As you can see, she is stunningly beautiful - 1000 watt smile, wild hair, amazingly thoughtful and spiritual tattoos.

It's quite perfect that this photo shows the safety pin holding up her pants. At her core is a recycle sign. She is amazingly responsible and environmentally aware. As I wrote that last line, I found myself cringing because its sounds so cliche and trendy. She's not on the Green Band Wagon - She was Green when Green wasn't cool.

She's a Vegetarian. She's been Totally Clean for 2 years now. She's a Fabulous Mother, an Attentive Daughter, and a Thoughtful Friend.

Joy spills from her. She walks around in a puddle of light.

When we went to Jazz Fest, she kept our kids so we were shopping for a gift for her. We found a group of ladies with these amazing tapestries and linens that were made by African Women and Girls as part of a Cooperative. All of the proceeds were to go right back to the Cooperative. It was the PERFECT Curious gift! The lady helping us choose a piece for her asked who we were buying for. Without thinking at all, I said "The friend of ours that's keeping our children. She's going to love this and the project that it comes from. She's this amazing woman - totally pure of heart and soul." Dawn looked at me wide-eyed. She said, "That was the perfect way to describe her. How lucky are we that we have a friend that we can describe like that?"

She wants a Girlfriend. A real relationship with a real person with real feelings and real intentions about a future together. She is tired of the dating world, the bar scene and the unholy hell that is match.com.

So yes, this is me pimping my friend. Anybody know anybody perfect for her? Curious doesn't have any money to speak of, so the lucky lady has to be willing to travel. But honestly, look at her. It's well worth the trip.

Anybody? Anybody?

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TallyHassle, My Newest Love

You all know about my insatiable crush on Ms. Moon. Well, her son may well be my first boy crush in God only knows how long.

You've got to read this.

Update: I just saw that DownTown Guy at TallyHassle aka "My Boyfriend" has given free reign to all of us to crash his site. He's interested to hear everyone else's stories. So go get him! But hands off - I saw him first:)

My Mother

Where to begin? What to leave out? What tone to take? Why don't I just get my shit together and write a F-ing book? One of my most effective excuses is my mother, who is constantly at odds with at least every other person on the planet, having an only twice before documented reaction to a somewhat (very) addictive substance, wrecking her car for the 7th time this fiscal year and taking her harried insurance company to court, breaking her computer and alienating the computer fix-it people by reminding them that doctors such as herself (though she hasn't practised in 15 years because she "voluntarily relinquished" her license) went to school far longer than they and so shouldn't be talked to like she is a child regarding this machine which is clearly faulty (not plugged in). *Big Cleansing Breath*

Ham Sa. Ham Sa.

Did I mention that she still uses the word "Oriental" to describe people? And when I remind her that that is an adjective to be reserved to describe rugs only, she waves her chunky bejeweled hand and says, "Excuse me, Rebecca. I forget how sensitive you've become."

This is where I lean my head back, stare at the ceiling, take breaths worthy of labor and wonder what I did in my previous life to deserve this. AND how did SHE birth ME? She should have given birth to Paris Hilton. I should have been mothered by wolves. They would have been more forgiving.

She's moving here. Not here, here. But within the county limits. And I'm glad. Mostly. When I'm not thinking of myself. Or of ever doing anything else remotely enjoyable. Ever.

You see, my grandfather (her father) is doing his damnedess to die. Her sisters won't let him. She, with her extensive medical knowledge, thinks he should be in hospice. She doesn't have Medical POA despite the fact that she's the oldest child and has a Medical Degree. Doesn't that tell you something? If one of the 3 sisters doesn't step out of the equation, one of them is going to commit homicide.

So. My mother is coming here. And here's the problem.

She can't actually take care of herself. She has every syndrome, disease, and disorder ever outlined by medical geniuses and failures alike. She doesn't adhere to a regular schedule of sleeping, eating, dressing, medicating or paying her bills. And by "regular" I mean normal and also consistent. She needs help. Daily help. And I don't want it to be me.

The good news is that she divorced well, and has more money than most small churches. (You know. Not a First Baptist Church, but she's not a Second Antioch of Baskersville, either.) Anybody have any ideas how to talk a non-Senior Citizen into an Assisted Living facility? Or hiring live-in or 24 hour call-in care?

It's not that I don't want to help her. But I have 4 kids and I'm pretty busy with them and their joyous things. I don't want to get sucked into her insanity and joy-sucking things.

Oh, crap! I'm not saying this well. I'm sounding heartless and cold. I'm sounding like a petulant child, an ingrate, an asshole. She's my mother, after all. But she makes me crazy. She makes all of humanity crazy. She is crazy.

The World According to Jude

I know, you're all dying to hear the scoop on Jude and R. Well I've got it; and I'm dishing! Ready? They're perfect. If I had met them individually, I would have loved them. But together, they're like a wink and a smile, peas and carrots, Gilbert and Sullivan.

Jude, in a word? Sweet. Guys, listen. Jude is very possibly the sweetest soul on this precious earth. She is gentle and soft-spoken. She tends to R with such attention! Always asking if she's OK or if she needs something. Jude obviously in word and deed adores R. (It occurs to me that I've made R sound like an invalid. She's not. Her toes are broken.)

About Equality, Jude is passionate without being a fanatic. She brings a cool head and vast knowledge of the law and the history of civil rights struggles, gay and otherwise. She's fighting the good fight with her words and her photos. With unrivaled resolve and stoicism, Jude too "has a dream."



R, for her part, dotes on Jude. With what's left of her Jersey Girl accent, she lovingly tells the good and the bad with brutal honesty, self-reflection that would make Freud proud, and always a casual but mindful hand on Jude's knee or shoulder. She watches her when she's any distance away, and smiles when Jude turns to come back. R has style, class, wit and brains. Nobody could fault Jude for being smitten.

They are a testament to love, the enduring blessing of forgiveness, and the promise of good things for good people. I feel wholly honored that they came all this way to peek in on us and the kiddies. We had a blast.

Na Na Na Boo Boo

JUDE IS AT MY HOUSE! Na Na Na Boo Boo!

Dawn says that I don't do that Na Na thing properly. What do you think?

Regardless, the fact remains that I have Jude and you don't.

Pictures will be in abundance tomorrow.

The Good, the Bad and the Heartbreaking

It's Father's Day. Yikes. Not my favorite day. I have a tenuous, at best, relationship with my dad. My step-dad who I lived with for 10 years is long gone. My father's father hasn't spoken to me since I left my husband. My mother's father is struggling against his daughters who just won't let him die. And the father of my sons is in Iraq, hating my guts when he has the time.

I made a slide show with pictures of the boys and catchy diddies and sent it out this morning. My ex will hate the music and tell me about it. My father won't be able to open it. My ex's father will love it, show it to everyone and never mention it to me. I hate futility. And I really hate my compulsion to participate in it. I simply can't help myself; I'm a glutton for punishment.

In the midst of all of this self-pity, I may have made a semi-brilliant decision. (Did you notice all the outs I gave myself right there?) I'm going to start really working on my book. It's been seeding and putting down apprehensive roots in my drought-prone mind for quite some time. The timing of Caleb's visit and Father's Day, though has brought on the rain, I think. (I'm all done with that terribly cliche imagery now. **Collective Sigh of Relief**)

Lesbians, Butches, Femmes, Dykes, Lady-Lickers of all walks, shapes, sizes, colors, ages, creeds, ethnic and national origins, I need your help. I would like to hear your stories about your fathers. The Good, the Bad and the Heartbreaking. If you're willing to share with me, would you please email me ( refocksa_chicks@live.com )? Thank you, my friends.

Lemon Tagged Me

Damn you, Lemon! I hate these things! If you hadn't tricked me into a Weezer quoting contest, I might have conveniently ignored this tag. But since I am the epitome of Public Enemy and you were told that I'm a lesbian, here it is.

What is your current obsession?
My blog. And your blog. And yours, too. I finally feel comfortable getting around and adding and changing things.

What is your weirdest obsession?
Cups. I hate drinking from plastic and can't drink from glass because my kids are insane. So I drink from that really hard acrylic/poly-something-or-other. Dawn keeps me stocked with new patterns and colors. I LOVE getting a new cup!

Recall a fond childhood memory.
My dad is a golf-pro. I adored riding around in a golf cart while he played. We always had really good (nasty) snacks - Fanta, Hot peanuts, Nabs (for all you Yankees out there, that's a pack of 6 cracker sandwiches.) For someone who can't play golf, I know a lot about it.

What's for dinner?
Ummm. . . Saturday . . . probably Little Caeser's $5 Drive-Thru special for the kids and some combination of Shrimp and vegetables and pasta for Dawn and me. She has a special way with that dish. Yum!

What would you eat for your last meal?
Maybe the aforementined pasta plate, honestly. I'd add a spinich salad with lots of tomatoes and cucumbers, pecans, balsamic vinaigrette, yeah. Perfect, crisp, cool and fruity Sauvignon Blanc. Bread Pudding without Raisins for dessert.

What's the last thing you bought?
$26 worth of movie snacks for the family yesterday afternoon.

What are you listening to right now?
Storm and William are watching Dirty Jobs - he's in a refueling aircraft.

What do you think of the person who tagged you?
I think she's a riot. I wish she would write more about her crazy dad.

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Right here in central Pensacola. About 2 neighborhoods over. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?!

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
Only one hour, huh? That should be enough time. Just south of Cape Town, South Africa, on a boat with Chris Fallows. I want to see the Great Whites breach.

Which language do you want to learn?
Spanish seems the most practical, but I sure would love surprising Dawn with a little Portuguese. Yeah, yeah! Portuguese! I choose Portuguese!

What's your favorite quote (for now)?
If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough.

What is your favorite colour?
Yellow.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
I have this crazy tiered linen black skirt. It has a drawstring and doesn't make me feel fat or like I might pass out from heat stroke. I love it.

What is your dream job?
"If I could make a living out of loving you, I'd be a millionaire in a week or two. Doing what I love and loving what I do, if I could make a living out of loving you."

What's your favourite magazine?
Magazines seem so wasteful to me. I never get to read them, and I hate the idea of all the paper that goes into me not reading them. Does the Company Store catalog count?

If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Crap. The gas bill. That's so boring, I know.

Describe your personal style?
Lazy. Fat girl in a little shirt. You're-too-old-to-shop-exclusively-at-Old-Navy.

What are you going to do after this?
Try to coax Ray into putting some pee in the potty.

What are your favourite films?
The Color Purple, I know I just saw it yesterday but I think I'll have to include UP, American Beauty, The Ref

What's your favourite fruit?
Pineapple. I also really dig bananas with peanut butter.

What inspires you?
Really good writing, a great success or survival story, Dawn's love and watching the kids figure stuff out.

Your favourite books?
To Kill a Mockingbird, anything by Tom Robbins, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Do you collect anything?
These days, it seems like we collect pets. I do collect old chairs, mostly from the side of the road. I don't know where the compulsion comes from, but I really can't drive past a chair.

Any advice that’s come from bitter experience?
Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Tell the truth.

What makes you follow a blog?
Something witty, something shocking, something gut-wrenching, something about children as crazy as mine.

Now listen, Lemon. I don't want you to take this personally, but I AM NOT tagging anyone else. I'm willing to risk the 25 years of bad luck or whichever Urban Legend happens to be attached to this. Sorry. On the upside, this was more fun than I expected it to be. So thanks.

I hope Ray pees.

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Thursday's Treasures - Caleb, Leslie and Mason

Dawn's friends came to town yesterday. I wasn't excited. Suffice it say that I've had trouble with Dawn's friends in the past. So yet another visit from people that I don't know and who haven't seen Dawn in 10 years but still call her their best friend wasn't my idea of Wonderful Wednesday. You know?

But these folks were AWESOME! Caleb is a fiction writer who hasn't written any fiction but does have a non-fiction book out called Star Wars Jesus (yes, he's a big dork.) Leslie is a painter, animal whisperer, beer-guzzler, Whitney Houston video appearing fabuloso. Mason is 7, VERY shy and obviously brilliant, of course. LOVE THEM! Keeping them. Forever.

Anybody want to go in with me to buy one of her paintings? We'll keep it at my house because it was my idea.

I love new friends, especially the kind that aren't much work, you know? We just all fell together and meshed really well - plenty to talk about, similar child-raising styles, complimentary drinking habits:) They live far enough away that the relationship stays fresh but close enough that it doesn't go stale.

So here's my list - I can only think of 4 today, I don't want to force a fifth.

1. Ice cold beer in bottles that have at least one word on them that I can't pronounce and don't know what it means.

2. Oysters on the half shell. And ordering a second dozen because friends are here and it's a celebration.

3. Talented friends who are google-able. That makes me feel rich AND important.

4. My aquariums - all 5 of them, but especially the biggun with 8 different kinds of tetras.

Chicks: A Good Choice

The following is from Heifer International's website. I thought it was apropos to give a flock of chicks in Dawg's name:)

Flock of Chicks
Chicks: A Good Choice

A flock of chicks can help families from Cameroon to the Caribbean add nourishing, life-sustaining eggs to their inadequate diets.

The protein in just one egg is a nutritious gift for a hungry child. Protein-packed eggs from even a single chicken can make a life-saving difference.

Heifer helps many hungry families with a starter flock of 10 to 50 chicks. A good hen can lay up to 200 eggs a year - plenty to eat, share or sell. With Heifer recipients' commitment to pass on the offspring and training, the exponential impact of adding chickens to communities in poverty is truly a model that helps end hunger and poverty.

Because chickens require little space and can thrive on readily available food scraps, families can make money from the birds without spending much. And chickens help control insects and fertilize gardens.

In Tanzania, Omari and Kulwa were struggling to raise a family on just 50 cents a day. With the training and chicks they received from Heifer, egg sales have boosted their daily income to $2, so they can now buy food and still pay school fees. Now, through passing on the gift, all of the children in their village are going to school.

My 100th Post - Ode to Dawg

As part of my New Year's Revolution, I started this blog. I had no idea what to write or who would read it or how long I would keep it up. Honestly, I also had no idea what I was going to write about or what might come of it.

My first profile said that I wanted to be discovered as one of the great comic voices of our time. I wanted to be paid to write and published far and wide and become famous as a no non-sense kind of girl who, on a bad day overuses alliteration and justifiable poor punctuation.

On Thursday January 29th, I copied and pasted an article I had written weeks before into blogger. It took me an embarrassingly long time to do it. Later in the day, I posted another entry about how pleased I was with myself. And even later I posted a hilarious if disturbing exchange in which Faith taught me the most efficient way in which to dispose of our fish. Day 1 - I was hooked.

February - I posted and posted. I looked around a little, figured out that I could click on my own interests in my own profile and be directed to other bloggers that shared that interest. (I am a computer moron.) I wrote a little of this, a little of that. Family situations, political rants, witty anecdotes. I tried it all. Mid-month, someone took notice of my flailing attempts to get some attention. She became my first follower.

Dawg. Dawg. Wonderful Dawg. She left her first comment on February 12th. It was a post about Dawn breaking our unspoken agreement to stop shaving during the winter. Oh, the joy that cursed through my body at seeing the words "1 comment"! It was better than the vast majority of the sex that I had in my life prior to the year 2007. That goes to show what lesbianism can do for a floundering, lost soul.

Dawn freaked out. "Who is this person? Where is she? What is she smoking? (Remember Dawg's picture in the smoke haze? There was what looked like a door with tempered glass in the top half behind her. It always made me think of "Smokin' in the Boys' Room.") What does she write about? Oh! My! God! Becca! She's like a real Dyke! Oh my God!" I reminded Dawn that she was the one that had encouraged the writing. She was the one that had encouraged the public profile. She was the one person that had supported me and wanted me to succeed in this ridiculous endevour. I reminded her that in order to become a writer that gets paid that people have to actually read what said writer writes. I reminded her that this was a good thing. She wasn't convinced. I think Dawg scared her a little.

5 months, 100 posts and 29 Followers later, Dawn has come around, and Dawg has stayed true-blue. She hardly ever misses a post. She gave me my first and only award. I found most of you by scouring her reading list. She has taught me A LOT about the lesbian community - either because she told us all about it or because I didn't understand what she was talking about and looked it up myself. Dawg - my virtual tour-guide to my new life, and my first Imaginary Friend.



In honor of my 100th post and of her friendship, I'll be making a donation in her name to Heifer International, (If you're not laughing right now, take a deep breath, release the furrow in your forehead and the tension in your shoulders. 'Cause that's just funny - I don't care who you are.) an organization that gives livestock and husbandry training to impoversished women around the world. The women are then charged with passing on the gift by giving offspring to their neighbors and teaching their sisters and daughters what they were taught. I'll also be sending her a little gift in appreciation for her regular attention and continued urging down this road-less-traveled.

Thanks, Dawg.

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Thursday's Treasures or Things that Make Me Feel Rich

So it's Thursday. Time for Thursday's Treasures, or Things that Make Me Feel Rich. And I'll get to it, but first a little story.

Just a few moments ago, I was reading Ms. Moon's post Brains Baked, Simmered, Fried and Flaked. As usual, I was enthralled and inspired and at home in her words. As usual, I felt like she had given my belly stirrings words, and so told me my own truth. She's amazing. And so as usual, I laughed outloud and Dawn said, "What?" I said, "I'm laughing at Ms. Moon." She said, "What's she up to today?" I said, "She's yelling about people coming to her house to witness." Dawn said, "Witness what?"

Before I go any further let me remind you all that if it weren't for the fact that we share a heart and soul, you would testify that Dawn and I are Polar Opposites. She grew up WAY up there and I, WAY down here. Our political, social and spiritual upbringings were as far removed in content as they were in geography.

So you'll understand the sweet shock that rushed over me when my beloved said, "Witness what?" In the brief seconds that I stayed in my chair, I was hit head-on by how different our beginnings in life were and how amazing it is that we have come together and how glad I am to not be living my old life anymore and how much tangibly better my life is with her in it and so many others out of it.

And so, surprising both Dawn and me, I stood up and quickly moved to her. I took the laundry out of her hands and put my impatient mouth on hers and pushed her down and made love to her right there on the couch in the middle of the afternoon heat.

And I feel rich. And whole. And so very alive.

So here's my list for today.

1. Ms. Moon's laid-bare soul, her wisdom and her truths.

2. NOT living in Mississippi.

3. Having a whole swarm of friends to tell this stuff to and Believing that you really do care.

4. Pandora.com that always manages to play a perfect song. Right now, it's Debbie Comer's version of Crash into Me.

5. The City of Pensacola that puts on fantastic summer activities. Tonight I'm going to play in the fountains with my adorable family while a band serenades us.

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Mystery Solved

Nurture vs. Nature. It's an age-old question, and one that is bound to come up in the lives of my children. Storm and Faith are fathered by the poster child for the American Melting Pot. He most closely identifies as African-American. William and Ray are fathered by a pasty white Brit. Unfortunately, the children don't see them as often as any of us would like because the guys are both in the Army and have spent so much time overseas.

It's an interesting arrangement, no doubt. We get LOTS of questions and avoid many others. My favorite? "Which ones are yours?" And I say, "All of them." And Bitchy Ignoramuses say, "No, I said 'Which of the children are yours?'" And I say, "Yes, Ma'am. And I said, 'All of them.'" And they say, "Oooooooooh!" in a sing-songy way that betrays both their surprise and disapproval. I cut my eyes, smile and twirl Faith's hair around my finger.

So I spend a fair amount of time studying my children. I not only revel in their smiles and squeals and questions and answers; but I LOOK at them. I look for Dawn and Big Storm in Storm and Faith. I look for myself and Jack in William and Ray. Physical features are easy, but still need to be catalouged. The kids like to talk about where their eyes came from and how they got their toes and "who has hair like me." It's also good for the guys, I think. They need to hear about the obvious presence of their DNA when all else fails. Storm looks EXACTLY like Big Storm - perfect smile and Fred Flintstone feet, and William and Ray ARE Jack from the neck down - narrow shoulders and soccer-player legs.

What plagues me, though, are the weird habits and preferences/obsessions. One, in particular, really irks me. I have watched Storm do this for a couple of years now, and have been close to throwing-up for a couple of years now. He twitches his nose and then, with his palm parallel to his face, starts with the tip of his middle finger and rubs his entire hand and forearm up his face. This behavior has been a total mystery to me. I have NEVER, in my entire life, seen anyone else do this. Until tonight.

We found a new-to-us beach dive. Open-air, fresh seafood, good beer on tap, a little band - our kind of place. The kids were playing on the beach and Dawn and I were enjoying a rare moment alone. I was in mid-sentence when her nose started twitching. Her strong, capable hand came up; and as I held my breath and did my best to keep my eyes from popping out of my head, she performed the manuever.

Damn!

That's one less thing I can blame on THEM.

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Summer Lovin'

I love, love, love my new look! What do you guys think? Very Summery, right?

I'm quite in love with summer tonight. Does it show? Summer is all of my favorite things, except Christmas. But that's good because the wintertime needs something uplifting, too, you know?

Summer is my favorite foods - crawfish boils, homemade ice cream, oysters on the half, and Perfect Garden Vegetables (notice how I give respect with capital letters). Tomatoes. Tomatoes. I could write yet another Ode to Tomatoes right now, but I'll spare you.

Summer is my favorite drinks - Iced Sweet Tea, Chilly Cold Beer straight from my rusty cooler, Frozen Margaritas, Late Afternoon Vodka & Tonics that take many witty cocktail napkins. My favorite one shows a 50s era woman in a button-up pink dress leaning against a tree. She's smiling coyly. The caption reads, "She had not yet decided whether to use her powers for good or for evil."

Summer is my children - at the Beach, in the yard, on a road trip, in fountains, on bikes, in parks, at festivals, together.

Summer holds my favorite memories from my less than illustrious childhood and not-yet-adulthood. I went to summer camp at Camp DeSoto atop Lookout Mountain in Alabama. I went for a month for 6 years. LOVED it! It was hot and dusty and humid and comfortable and safe and fun and perfect and wanna hear me sing some songs?

Summer was the time for my tragically dysfunctional Southern family to take a FABULOUS trip. We drove across Canada once. Good Lord. We had run-ins with bears, massive sheep and elk that wouldn't get off the road for the goddamn Pope. There was snow (we Mississippians don't do well with that.) There was a grumpy customs agent who didn't think much of our Georgia peaches. My now ex step-dad drove the rental van into a pole in a bank parking lot. I got new L.A. Gear high-tops because they were affordable in Canada. My now ex step-sister did not and threw a massive fit, so my mother's sister threw one of the aforementioned peaches at her in the aforementioned rental van. Good times.

Summer is my favorite boyfriend. Lance. It was the summer I worked at my dad's Country Club as a lifeguard. When I say it was my dad's what I mean is that he was the Golf Pro at the course. It was his job. Lance was a lowly cart boy, and a county school kid, at that. He was adorable. Totally smitten with me. I was the boss's daughter, 16 with a rock hard newly transformed body in a brand new bright red racerback suit and tortoise shell sunglasses. My goodness. He was tripping on himself. He drove a T-top Camaro with only the primer on it. The tape deck responded better to a good swift whack on the dash than to the buttons and knobs. He cried a little the first time we heard "Beaches of Cheyenne," the big hit of that summer. To this day, he's the sweetest boy I ever knew.

"If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance."

Go get some sweet kisses, girls. Summer's here.

Aloha!

I went to Hawaii once in Middle School. It was nice. I like Hawaiian music and I think the native language is beautiful. Like every little girl, I had a grass skirt at some point. I have a few Hibiscus plants in my yard. All this to say that I think of Hawaii as much as the next person. I'm not hankering to get there. It's not my mental happy place. Hawaii, just Hawaii. Whatev.

Yesterday, though. Damn! I couldn't get away from it. Weird Hawaii happenings in chronological order: 1) I bought Storm the next book in the Magic Tree House Series which happened to be High Tide in Hawaii. 2) Storm and Faith's dad sent a box of souvenirs from Hawaii where he had recently been on a training exercise. Faith was covered in hibiscus themed jewelry, and Storm was fabulous in a new t-shirt that read, "Hang Loose." (This saying always makes me think of going commando.) 3) On the way to an evening spent playing in the public fountains, we stopped to get a bottle of wine at Aloha Wine World. 4) When we pulled up to the fountains, there was an old car with a sticker on the back window that read, "AlohaWinds.net" 5) On the ground next to where we parked was a tag from a beach towel covered in hibiscus flowers. Isn't this weird?

So I've decided to try out "Aloha" for a while. I'm going to answer the phone with it. Annoy drive-through tellers. Sign emails. Confuse my neighbors.

It's good both coming and going. Aloha!

Treasures from the Moon

I so love this notion that Ms. Moon put in my head, that I think I may make it a weekly post like Wordless Wednesdays or Dawg's Dislike Fridays. How's Thursday for you? Skipping this coming Thursday, of course.

Here's the disclaimer - I'm not going to include Dawn and the children in my lists. You all know how much I ADORE them and if I go ahead with this disclaimer then I won't feel that annoying pang of guilt every time I don't mention them and you guys won't have to vomit in your laps every Thursday which may lead to it being known as Throw Up Thursday which is not becoming in the least. Oh! And I'm limiting myself to a list of 12 today and 5 every Thursday hereafter. Skipping this coming Thursday, of course.

OK? Here goes.


Things that make me feel rich:

1. Our fabulous camera that we refer to as "the asset."

2. My poetry books by obscure authors.

3. Organic anything - especially fruit and soaps.

4. My grandmother's silver.

5. Going out on a date. At night. Without children.

6. My twice yearly haircut at the fancy salon.

7. Yearly Membership passes - for anywhere or anything.

8. New Crocs with carefully chosen Jibbitz.

9. Opening a good bottle of wine and pouring perfectly for Dawn who doesn't care.

10. Netflix

11. Buying a new pair of orange-handled scissors with which to cut whatever I want without irritation.

12. Dawn's collection of rocks, shells and trinkets from far and wide.

Can't Stop Laughing!

I just read this on the Catholic News Agency website. These are the last few lines of an article that started out being about President Obama declaring June to be LGBT Pride Month.

Last Friday, the Baghdad Embassy employee association hosted a Gay Pride Theme Party at an employee pub. A flyer for the event, reposted on the Washington Post's website, encouraged attendees to “dress in drag or as a gay icon.”

A State Department source told the Washington Times that the party “throws gasoline on the fire” of Islamic insurgency and strengthens the perception that America is promoting decadence.

Perk Up, Jude