Deuces

In a couple days Lloyd and I will be on our way to New Orleans (oh yeah!) Neither of us have ever been.  I received my Visitor's Guide in the mail about a month ago and it has since been dog-earred and has those colorful tabs you use in your college books to mark the real interesting stuff.  I have pulled up my packing list.  This is the list I started years ago when I would visit Lloyd in England.  It has all that stuff that I just MUST NOT  forget.  And my organized self has it in a folder in my documents called "To Pack". I got to cross one item off that list this week.   My glasses.  Got lasik last year.  BOOM! No need for those things anymore.  Right on. I have been excited to see New Orleans for the last 15 years.  I remember my dad and brother Chris took a spontaneous road trip there once.  And they came back with a picture of my dad dangling his pale feet in the Mississippi river.  He looked so happy.  It was a funny picture to me because my dad was always

4 minutes ago I was curled up on the cool edge of my bed, not far from my sweaty husband.  I could hear his heavy breathing as I slipped in under the covers.  I attempted to cradle him because I needed the hug, but he was boiling, so I crept away and plunged my arm under the chilled pillow and pondered. I thought long and hard of how to release this negative juju that is creeping into my head.  I avoid negativity.  I avoid drama.  I avoid messes, arguments, uncomfortable moments.  I even attempt to steer clear of sadness.  I have gotten very good at it.  You know, when I get into a funk, I just talk myself out of it. I might whip out a calendar and plan- that seems to put me at ease.  The writing of this here blog, folks, that helps too. I guess I am hoping to write my way out of it.  I like to really think about what the heck is bothering me, so I can squash it.  I can rationalize it.  That's what I do. What is bothering me is the unfairness of things.  Why strange and s

Lloyd cheated on me with Liv Tyler. Well, that was my dream last night.  In that dream he was also a professional football player, so far-fetched is pretty much the order of the evening. Yesterday was Christmas.  Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.  Never really fully prepared and yet it comes.  Where would I have been without my elf, Ariel??  So we started the tamales on the Eve.  I was humming along as I prepped the masa and soaked the husks.  After a while the novelty of the tamales started to wear off.  I got bored.  She got sleepy.  We retreated to the loft where we watched a boot leg copy of our favorite movie of the season.  We left the masa in the fridge, and the husks soaking in the kitchen sink.  We would put off what we had started.  Typical. And so Christmas day rolls around.  Dinner was set for 5 p.m.   Around 10 a.m. Lloyd made pancakes and fresh coffee.  My mom and I opted for Chinese take out.  I love the Chinese.  Despite any political or religious differences we h

I am trying to type this blog without err.  I have a cat on my lap (Trouble), curled up and sleeping.  How he snoozes while I wobble my arms to type on this laptop which adorns my knee caps is beyond me.  But he looks content.  My one and only girl kitty, Littlefoot snoozes beside me.  Her hind paws graze my thigh.  I am completely uncomfortable, but I feel loved. Lloyd is picking up some last minute foods in preparation for tomorrows Christmas dinner.  Downstairs the boom box is playing all the Christmas jams you can expect from 99.1 KGGI.  Those hip hop Christmas tunes.  The presents are all wrapped.  The tree is twinkling, and as I look outside I see the lights from our home inter-mingled with the neighbors.  It's lovely.  If I wasn't so uncomfortable, I might feel at complete peace, like these 2 sleeping cats. In a few hours my niece will be here.  We will be making tamales.  My first time ever.  Yup- it seems a daunting task.  But how fun.  How fun to have my kitchen

I guess I kerplunked on the title of this blog (and "part 1" of this blog).  After I left today's blog feeling pleased with my creative genious of written work, I sat listening to Christmas Carols that have been adapted by modern pop stars.  I semi-loathe these modern pop renditions.  I like to keep it real with the classic versions, and somehow seeing a pop star writhing around in a short Santa suit stealing the lyrics of a previously awesome song bugs me.  But, anyway, I listened away and it's slightly possible I sang along. And in one of the songs I heard that famous Christmassy word "Yuletide", which I so cleverly utilized in said blog title.  I thought I was being so adorable using a Christmas word.  But anyway, so I sat and I suddenly realized I didn't know what "Yuletide" even meant.  Maybe I knew once upon a Christmastime, but I no longer knew.  So I googled that adorable word and discovered it means: 1. period extending from Dec.

Phone rings moments ago.  The ringtone is my husbands.  I answer cautiously "Hello?" as I am somewhat perplexed by his early a.m. call.  Lloyd: "Are you going to blog anytime this month?" OkOkOk.  I've gotten away from my "daily" blogs which have turned into "semi-bi-weeklys".  What can I say, the world seems to be on Christmas vacation, Hannukah relaxation, or some variation of religious lounging.  I almost forget each day, too, that I am not technically on vacation.  While work has gone slow with the schools off, I still have stuff ta'do in preparation for busy spring semesters.  And I have this here trusty blog to do.  Not that I hafta, but it makes my day bright.  And plus I need somewhere to use my lingo like "hafta" But oh well.  I'm doing it from my jim-jams.  I have been enjoying this season.  I am enjoying the heater that is blowing its warm air on me right at this moment.  In a few hours, I might gripe abo

We added a few more decorations to the tree last night.  It still looks a bit desperate, but it is ours, in all its piney glory. This is officially our 3rd Christmas in our home.  Where has the time gone? The first 2 Christmases gave us a fake tree that stood 6 feet tall.  It was a sad looking tree, in hindsight, but I'm not sure we knew it.  Well, perhaps we did, but we are troopers.  We troop along with whatever comes our way, real or fake. It was fun decorating our first sad tree in 2007.  The ornaments we bought at the 'Mart and a string of musical lights because no tree of mine will ever be complete without a string of dancing musical lights.  They remind me of childhood.  Always the lights that played the Christmas tunes. And we would beg our parents to let us sleep in front of the tree with the lights on, softly playing all the sounds of Christmas cheer.  But, my mom pretty much always said no.  Back then  she worried as much as she does now about fire danger (sh

I went to the vet today.  I took my boy Trouble in for his cortisone shot, which helps relieve his asthmatic symptoms.  I was relieved when we arrived and there wasn't the usual cramped waiting room.  I was having a good day.  I knew my boy would be feeling better in a short while.  I had my work day planned out, and I was humming along Christmas tunes that played only in my head.  As I waited to be called I saw a couple come in cradling a tiny puppy.  He was wrapped in a baby blanket and he was dry heaving.  They explained to the receptionist he was a a dog they had bred and he was unable to keep his food down.  Looking at the puppy's tiny brown face in all its agony was heart-wrenching.  But this was Dr. Park.  The vet I visit and trust.  Like a baby brought into the hospital with all its medical professionals, I had faith this pup would be fixed.  VOILA! I didn't mind that they rushed him right back.  I was happy to wait.  Trouble and I sat on the hard chairs en

I am surrounded by a mess.  As I sit on this cozy, faux leather couch, I scan the floor.  Pillows from last night's camp-out strewn about.  A catalogue from work, which I gloss over frequently when a customer calls.  Remote controls, coffee mug with luke-warm java, un-opened mail.... There is a towel on the floor.  After a shower last night I wrapped my hair in said blue towel.  As the Mr. and I cuddled up under a blanket, this blue towel slowly unraveled.  There is cat medicine on the railing, a reminder for me to ensure Trouble gets it.  There is a paper napkin on the floor, which we accidently left there after our gourmet dinner, complements of Del Taco.  I will get to tidying up this mess soon enough.  This is what I do on the weekends, after all.  And I enjoy it, so I'm not complaining.  I often ask Lloyd how it is that 2 people can manage to stir up such a mess.  But we seem perplexed by it all.  Like, literally so confused how the mess we have managed to create has co

I have a great career.  Loves it.  I feel like I worked and studied my whole life to be where I am today, and I am lapping it up.  Here are 5 things I love about my jay-oh-bee. 1.  My co-workers.  They are some of the smartest folks I have ever met.  And I use big words around them to fool them into thinking I am smart, too. 2.  Company Vehicle.  When I hit the brakes a bit too hard or get a scratch on the bumper, I shrug it off 3.  The teachers.  Loves me some nice and funny teachers.  There are lots out there.  They make my job worthwhile 4. My schedule.  It's hectic at times, and many other times I am working from the p-jams on the couch with "Whose Line is it Anyway?" re-runs playing in the background.  Not bad, not bad at all. 5. Traveling.  Sometimes it's to the high desert, but so be it.  The last couple of year's took me to New York a few times, Florida and San Francisco.  Yes, please. Makes all the years serving tables and working drive-through wh

O.K.  Offcially addicted to the 5 lists.  I made this list up.  Kudos to me.  Here's 5 things that make me blubber. 1.  That show "The Locator" 2.  Homeless animals 3.  Days when I feel ginormous, am in a rush, and have nothing to wear 4.  Watching people tell stories about people they've loved and lost 5.  That commercial with Sarah McLachlan where she is holding a dog and pleading with people to donate to the SPCA.  That song "Arms of the Angel" or whatever its called is playing softly in the background.  I swear if that commercial doesn't make you cry you have serious issues and should seek help. The Sad Commercial- Grab a Tissue n' Click Here...

So on facebook they have those social living thingamaboppers where you choose 5 things that make you happy... etc. but, regrettfully, they are only things you can find on an internet search.  Here's my 5, peoples. 1.  My husband doing a "Mia Michaels" routine.  Seriously.So.Funny.You'd.Pee.Your.Pants.  He isn't "trained" in the art of dancing, but boy does it put a smile on this face when he pretends!! 2. A rebate check in the mail you totally forgot you sent in.  That totally cheers me up. 3. Coming home and finding my husband has volunteered to clean something.  His motives are always slightly questionable, but I could probably deal with an affair if I knew my kitchen floor was safe to eat off of. 4. Discovering new talent in music, a new favorite song.... a new favorite singer... 5. A handwritten note, card, or letter.  Loves. 

Christmas season means people have smiles on their faces.  It means the first of rains, the first of snows.  It means stress.  It means trying to figure out ways to give the perfect presents to people we love, without thinking at all about what we would love. Christmas means you think about what the year has been.  It means reflecting.  It means we snuggle up 'round a fire.  It means hot chocolate, hot coffee, hot cider. Christmas season means wooly stuff.  It means it's so itchy, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.  And anyway, it's cute... so put up with the itch of that wool, or angora, or cashmere... real or fake. Christmas season means hustle and bustle.  Stuff moves fast.  We make statements like "I can't believe it's already Christmastime" and "Where did the year go?" Christmas season means stuff is messy.  There's wrapping paper.... everywhere.  Even if you only have a few gifts to wrap, you wonder why wrapping tak

"Dear Lando, You're so cute, I could just stare at your face all day.  But you don't let me.  You eventually bore of the stare-off, turn your head, and nudge further under the couch.  You are a harmless beauty, despite your 'good figure'.  I admire how you eat in moderation, and how you turn and walk away from confrontation." Lando-Commando, my big black beauty.  You came to us one rainy night 2 years ago.  A homeless heathen.  And you would come through the back door and look for shelter and food.  You didn't mad-dogg my cats, Chewy and Obi.  If we would catch you in the act, you would flee like any normal stray animal.  But we let you in during that wintery season and gave you food.  And like the "Love em' and Leave em'" types I often attract, you would be gone in the morning. It took a long time for us to trap you.  We got you neutered and got all your shots and put you back out in the world (or rather, on the walk back from the

Nothing reminds me of the Christmases of my childhood like big bulbs.  The lights we strung on our home in Ontario that were all the brilliant colors of Christmas, and they were massive in size. I used to envy the white twinkling lights on other houses.  I thought they seemed so classy.  The "rich folks" always had the tiny white bulbs (at least that's how it seemed...)  And those that draped like icicles from rooftops.... breathtaking.  I always knew that when I grew up and had my house, I would have white, classy lights at Christmas.... like these.... But now... I miss the massive colorful lights.  They aren't so matchy-matchy, but oh well.  I drove past a house in my neighborhood that had those large, illuminating strings of colorful, tacky splendor nestled between the classy, icicled houses- just like the ones that hung from 1202 as a child-and I wished, inside, I had some too.  In the cave (closet beneath the stairs) my white lights of last years

My work often takes me into the UPS store, several times a week in fact.  Last week, on a day like any other, I stood in there with my hair in a loose, unkempt bun.  My pants and shirt were hideously mis-matched and I had dust on my hands and face.  Despite my tragic appearance, I managed to meet "The One", or, at the very least, someone I thought could be that special someone. I recognized his accent.  It was similar to my husband's.  I couldn't help but listen in on him asking the worker the most cost-effective way to ship large items from the U.K.  I was intrigued. Why was this dude attempting to ship items from the U.K to the nether regions of Moreno Valley?  His kind are unusual in the Inland Empire.  The foreigners opt for the bright lights of Hollywood or the beaches of Orange County when they visit or immigrate to California.  I was thoroughly excited.  I wanted to know more. As is often the case in the life of moi, I initiated a conversation.  I wasn