four calling birds...

merry fourth day of christmas, kiddies. hope you and yours had a blast. i think i will be sweating off christmas candy fumes until mid-march. life is good, and getting better all the time.

mil besos--r

i wanted to get a picture of mr. will in a christmas stocking, but the little fatty wouldn't fit. guess this shot of him looking perfectly angelic will have to do... 

will and his cita...i'm not sure who likes who more, but these two were just about inseperable.  

will and his great-gramps, my poppy, had a big time on christmas eve. 

will, already a very enterprising young man, is beginning to groom his hair to rival a certain mr. trump. watch out, wall street! 

my little cousin brandon took this picture. he'd had enough sugar to sink a boat, so the only way to get him to be tolerable was to give him the camera. i am a sucker for a 7 year old sugar fiend. 

will and me. this might be the cutest picture EVER. he looks like he knows a secret. 

look at those hog jaws!!  

merry christmas, happy hannukah. why yes, that IS a snotcicle hanging from my nose...

this is ridiculous. for the third christmas season in a row, i am monumentally sick. cedar fever is kicking my ass as we speak. in fact, my doc stopped just short of giving me steroids, so i'm not the total wuss i thought i was. my allergies really are that bad. and i feel horrid. seriously bad. like so bad that i had a meeting in san antonio today, and i didn't even put on make up to go. and i had no idea if there were going to be cute boys there-- and i still didn't feel well enough to put on make up.

i'm sitting in my bed, wrapped up in an old, thick, blue plaid robe that i liberated from my dad when i was 17 or so, cuddled up in my down comforter, listening to leonard cohen singing about the sisters of mercy, and wishing i could quit hacking up wads of god-knows-what. the bright spot-- last night, i wrapped almost all of my christmas presents, and it's almost time for me to have more nose spray. it's really the little things that are getting me by, today.

seriously, this is the worst time of year to be sick. i have such a love/hate relationship with christmas, anyway, this really just adds insult to injury. it was like right at the moment i was really getting into the spirit of christmas, i started feeling like utter poo. what the hell? i love texas, i was born here, and i will die here. but i freaking hate cedar trees with the white hot intensity of 10 thousand suns. seriously, seriously.

ok, it's nose spray time. i'm sure you're grossed out by now, anyway. i know i am.

happy, merry, pleasant, blah blah blah.

happy birthday, jesus. even though you were probably born sometime in september...

imagine

i know it's cliche. but i miss john lennon, even though i didn't know him. what a polarizing figure...i mean, he almost got deported from the US. he had bed-ins. he made art. he wrote songs that are so deeply embedded in my psyche that invariably a lennon song is on my internal soundtrack at least once a day. when i found out i was going to new york for the first time, strawberry fields was on the list of places to see--high up on that list, i might add. i was so intent on finding it, and so turned around in central park that i made esteban ask motorcycle cops for directions.

i wonder what john lennon would have been like as an elder statesman. i'm sure his children wonder the same thing. i guess it's a little safer for me to wonder what john lennon would have been like as an old man that it is for me to wonder the same thing about my own dad. funny how we make conjecture safe, sometimes, isn't it?

in other news, my nephew looks just like me. and apparently, is also terrifically gassy. i'm afraid more and more that my brother and sister-in-law have had my child, and that i will somehow have theirs. it's been known to happen.

i have got to get into the christmas spirit and quit being such a grinch. maybe this weekend's festivities and shopping will turn the trick. either that, or i can just buy a bottle of maker's mark and fake my way through it. i'll keep you posted. i mean, it's not that i don't like christmas, or that i don't love my family, and all that goes with holiday stuff. i just can't get excited right now, about anything. i guess it's realizing that i've been out of my old job for almost 6 months, and all the stuff i thought i would have accomplished in those 6 months is pretty much not done.

granted, i have gotten some sleep, which i desperately needed. i no longer cry at the drop of a hat. i have actually written some of my book, and taken a few pictures. i just figured by the time new year's came around, i'd be ready to shop some treatment chapters around, and i'm increasingly aware that i don't have enough material with which to do that. and i've had a couple of tepid reviews from my peeps, so i'm kind of gun shy at this point about doing anything with it. like maybe writing what i've got was just a really long journal entry, and that's secretly where it belongs. i dunno. it's hard for me to be objective about what i'm trying to make. and try as i might, i am having a hard time divorcing my essays from the pictures i've taken, even though i know i could get by with just captions. i guess i've realized that i do have something to say, i just don't know how loud i need to say it.

life is good, even when it's complicated. i DO have a purpose and a mission--but it's my job to figure that out, and then DO it with gusto. if i can dream it, i can do it.

jingle-jingle.

mil besos--rmg

love is like a coffee mug

i know, weird title for a post, huh? but i've been thinking this thought for the last three days, and didn't know what else to do but "say" it out loud.

love is like a coffee mug. or at least the kind of love i want, is. so i guess maybe i should say that relationship is like a coffee mug. i have a great affinity for coffee mugs. especially the really big kind, like the huge latte cups you get in coffee shops. caro bought me a big one with a sheep on it for christmas one year. i drink out of that one a lot, because it's big-big, and because it's pretty, and because one of my nearest and dearest gave it to me. but i digress.

see, i've been thinking a lot about relationships lately. ones i've had, ones i've wished i had, ones i imagine i will have at some point. and it all sort of comes back to the same thought-- a coffee mug. see, coffee mugs are sturdy, usually made kind of thick, to keep what's inside good and warm, with a good handle, so you can hang on, or pull it to you. coffee mugs contain, they don't keep. you don't put a lid on a coffee mug. coffee mugs can carry lots of different things---sometimes coffee, or tea, sometimes pens or paperclips, or puzzle pieces. coffee mugs can be refilled, reheated, washed out, and even put away, sometimes. coffee mugs aren't bones of contention, because there are enough coffee mugs for everyone to have whichever one they chose. coffee mugs don't actually fix your coffee, or other tasty beverage, they just take what you are willing to pour into them, and offer that same bit back, when you are ready to have it back. coffee mugs don't suddenly decide to be plates one day, either. and everyone knows immediately that the thing in your hand or on your desk is a coffee mug, and not a tea pot. coffee mugs are painfully obvious, but elegantly purposeful. they can deal with a lot of abuse, and with a little elbow grease and a resolve to be a little more careful, can usually be fixed up if they chip in a place or two. and if they shatter altogether, the shards make nice craft fodder, so at least you can be creative, if you can't have your thirst sated, anymore.

at any rate, this thought may have something to do with the fact that i am embarking on a monumental case of cedar fever as we speak, or it's brilliant, and i just don't have the brain power to fully flesh this one out at the moment.

that's what i think, for today, anyway.

mil besos--rmg

lessons learned

i learned today that after i brush baby a's teeth, it's best not to feed him for about a half hour. how did i learn this lesson--he threw up on me. that was a good lesson to learn. i feel bad for him, and bad for my snowflake pajama pants. but mostly, i feel bad for him. he's not feeling very well at the moment, but motrin and a few breathing treatments, and some tlc should put him back to rights.

i also learned today that stinky j shouldn't ever drink two bottles of gatorade if he's going to be around me for a prolonged period of time, and still be allowed to see his 13th birthday. i also learned that the only thing that can be gained from arguing about whether or not padme and queen amidala are the same person with stinky j is a headache and the strong craving for a drink and a smoke. here's the kicker-- he stayed home from school with a stomach complaint, and wore around the tightest pair of boxer shorts i have ever personally seen. when asked why he was wearing those boxers, and only those boxers, he would only gesticulate with his light saber, and threaten me with various forms of the jedi mind trick. oh, friends and neighbors, it is hard to be that kid. don't get me wrong, i love the little guy, but oh wow, do we have some ground to cover...

i learned this weekend that thanksgiving is about family, or rather i re-learned it. poppy was in the hospital over the holiday, and rather than cancel dinner at the house and keep the turkey in the freezer, we had dinner for relatives, anyway. and it was fine. and i still go to see poppy. and i learned how to make dressing. poppy is out of the hospital, now, and is recouperating at home, under the watchful eye of my grammy. hopefully, he'll be back to his old tricks by christmas. on thanksgiving, i was thankful for my crazy family, who always seems to come around when they are most needed, bringing pies and love.

i learned this weekend that 300 miles going to see my nephew is much shorter than 300 miles driving away from him. that kid is going to be a heartbreaker. i am making a short list of tricks to teach him. i'd also like to report that he smiled (ok, it was prolly just gas, but whatever, i got a picture of him) and almost rolled over. he's very advanced. and he has dimples, which means that he's a little bit like me. i like that. his 'cita says that he looks like me when he cries. she should know, since i did nothing but cry until i was 9 monts old. at any rate, will and his parents are doing very well. i will be boring you to death with more pictures soon.

i learned that it's best not to listen to dave matthews or ryan adams while pondering things about your love life, or lack thereof. same goes for the garden state soundtrack. i learned that when you feel like the universe is screwing you on the relationship deal, it's best to just pretend you don't feel that way, and plaster a smile on your face, and keep doing what you're doing, because the universe is a funny thing. so, i'm doing my thing, and saying my prayers to the baby jesus, and hoping this angsty feeling passes, or that something wonderful will come along and grow into something amazing.

i also learned that even though i'm 27 years old, i'd still rather talk to my mom about matters of the heart than just about any one else. she's a keeper, that one. and even though she can't fix any of the issues, she listens and offers her take on things, and even though things are exactly the same as when we started talking, i feel oddly better.

i learned that even after a two year hiatus, i can still make a mean marinara sauce.

i learned that three week olds make very odd noises, and baby gas smells just as bad as grown up gas does. wow.

i learned that i dislike houston and it's proclivity for municipalities and chambers of commerce more that i dislike dallas for that same reason. see, i can say nice things about dallas.


end of lessons, for today.

mil besos--rmg

not necessarily the news

ok, people. not to sound too much like joan rivers, but can we talk? seriously...i was just over at my grandparents' house printing out some lobby stuff, and chatting with them about thanksgiving plans, when i almost had a fit. a certain news agency that is almost constantly on at their house (no names, but i will tell you that at one time the pelt of this animal was used in couture clothing...until peta went on the kool-aide drinking war-path--but that's another rant) was covering a "major news development" complete with ultra-cool music and tight shots from local affiliates. it was a story about a plane with a wonky landing gear. a corporate jet with a wonky landing gear, not a major air-carrier, like last time. let me say that while i feel a measure of sympathy for people in air-planes with mechanical issues, i do not consider every incidence news worthy. more to the point, i feel like the only reason news agencies broadcast this kind of story is in the macabre hope that something goes wrong and they can get more gore and guts on their broadcast than the other guys, or at least get the guts and gore first. this is, to put it mildly, bullshit of the highest order.

in case anyone forgot, there are hard hitting news stories waiting to be picked up on a daily basis. and they aren't all about blood and guts, or which elementary school teacher banged and then married a student. the stories to be reported aren't all about politicians in washington screwing the rest of the country, one way or the other. the stories to be reported aren't all about little old ladies getting mugged by gang bangers. the stories aren't all about bigots, or zealots, or other run-of-the-mill crazies. there are stories about men and women who succeed in the face of insurmountable obstacles, dogs that help epileptic children, schools for at risk youth with 90% graduation statistics, start-up non-profits that change people's lives with everyday items and run on a shoe-string budget, schools in iraq that get opened and DON'T get firebombed, and the list goes on and on. but instead of those stories, we get more blood, more guts, more gore, more half-truths, more deciet, and less hope. and i think that's a travesty.

bobby kennedy said that he wanted not to see the world as it was and ask why, but to see the world as it could be and ask why not. i wish that those of us who dare to feel that way could have a venue of expressing that in the media. for instance, i wonder what it would be like if all the news media in america decided that on every wednesday, during their prime-time slots, they would focus on four incredible things that happened that day. do you think people would watch it? do you think that people would look forward to prime-time on wednesday nights? do you think the newscasters would look forward to bringing not just the news, but good news to their audience? or do you think that people would like it for about a month, and then get bored and call for a return to regular programming? i wonder. i wonder what it would do for media outlets that ambulance chase, dig for blackmailable info, exploit sources, and create drama. i wonder what it would do for a sense of esprit de corps and civitas that seem to be totally lacking in american society today.

i bet we would start to think of the news and newsmakers in a different light. i bet we would start seeing each other differently. i bet what we think of as being newsworthy would get turned on its head, such that when important, sobering things are reported, we would pay better attention to them, because we wouldn't be so numb to another plane crash, or bombing, or school shooting. maybe we could start looking at our neighbors as people who share our space, instead of people who maybe should be viewed with suspicion, because they look different than we do. maybe we could be vigilant about hope, vigilant about nuturing the potential that lies within us and our neighbors. maybe we wouldsee the world through different eyes, and get different results.

i'm not saying that everything on the news is bad, or that we have become a nation of humbugs. i'm just saying that i think we can do better. as for myself, i promise to do better, to try and find four things everyday that are special and good and amazing. and i will try to put them here.

today's four things:
1) a phone call from an old friend, who after two months, remembered my birthday
2) frozen cadbury eggs
3) stinky j's incredibly good mood, in spite of being 12 and moody most of the time
4) beauregard the dog is bouncing back from his arthritic drama this weekend


mil besos--rmg

oh wow, southpark strikes again

stinky j, my 12 year old cousin, dvr's all the episodes of southpark. this is a very good thing for our relationship. one, it gives us some common ground, and two, it gives me another reason not to tie him into a human knot on a daily basis. additionally, even though i'm 27 years old, my mother hates southpark, and doesn't like to let me watch it. i know, i know. some things never change.

ok, so this week's episode is PURE genius, which was totally lost on stinky j. the southpark guys (trey and matt) did what i have wanted to do for weeks-- they went after tom cruise. and it was brilliant. seriously, you should take five minutes to read the wikipedia entry on scientology. if that isn't enough lead you to spend untold hours tracking down info on the church of scientology, a) you just aren't trying hard enough, or b) you have a real job and no desire to read minutae about random religious philosophy. which is fine, just be prepared when i school your butt in trivial pursuit.

you have GOT to get your hands on this episode. it even made the cnn.com front page. freaking tom cruise with his annoying love proclamations (don't even get me started on his manic goofiness...talk about contrived, people), the way he chewed out matt lauer, and called brooke shields a drug addict, and proclaimed adderall a street drug. and then says he knows the "history" of psychology. yeah, sure ya do, tommy boy, sure ya do.

i mean, i get that not every kid with add or adhd needs drugs. and i get that it seems like every month, we discover a new mental issue. i get that. it frustrates me, sometimes. sometimes, i worry that maybe i have a freak mental issue based solely around being mostly, painfully, normal. however, that does not change the fact that mental illness is a real thing. behavior issues do exist, and sometimes need to be medicated. psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors are part of the glue that holds western society together. sure, some of them may be quacks, but they are the exception rather than the rule. we can all do with more talking, more feeling, more direction, and for some people, that is done in a therapy setting. and i have a real problem with someone who says that is not real, or that it's evil, or bad, or counter-productive to self-actualization.

as for the freak out on the opra show, i'd like to point out that it looks like tommy boy ate a great big box of crazy. and i don't mean the love kind. i mean the kind where you can either paint your whole apartment in three hours or shave off all your body hair a la bob geldof. i would shudder to think that THAT little display is what i have in store when i finally fall in love. love can make you do silly things, but getting all goo-goo in front of the entire tv viewing world is pushing the envelope. THAT little display is why some people think adderall is a good idea. THAT little freak out, coupled with his nasty remarks re: mental health have spurred me to boycott future tom cruise projects. i say future because i do adore top gun and a few good men. and born on the fourth of july. and far and away. but that's about it.

end of rant. peace out.

mil besos--rmg

mil besos--rmg

william michael graves--welcome to the world, darlingest boy. i promise to love you my whole life. i promise to listen to your adventures and misadventures with my full attention. i promise to be your friend and take you to the zoo. i promise to get you hopped up on sugar and then take you home to your mom and dad. i promise to remember you birthday, and always send you something random. i promise to think about you everyday, and be grateful to God that i know you. i promise to burn lots of gas coming to see you, and i promise i will never complain about the long drive. i promise i will never be too tired to tell you a story or sing you a song. i promise i will ask your mom and dad before i take you to the movies or let you try a new food or drive my car. i promise to make you watch the sun come up at least one time in our life together. i promise to take pictures of you covered in bluebonnets. i promise to burp you after i give you a bottle. i promise to tell you stories about your daddy when he was a little boy. i promise to get you out of jams, when i can help, and to give you inside info on crazy family members. i promise to hold you as much as i can without being a baby hog. mostly, i just promise to love you every day more than i love you today, better than i love you today. you are the newest in a long line of people i love. i promise to be generous with my love, to tell you how much i love you every time i see you.  

will, while a huge fan of the university of texas, is not a fan of his similac with iron formula. see evidence of both-- on his head, and on his lip. this is still the cutest spit up i have ever seen in my whole life. 

will's 'cita, upon his arrival. this was one happy grandma! 

parenthood--it's an amazing thing.  

will's response to his first bath. i have a feeling that this only minor compared to how he will feel when he's two and covered in something way nastier than baby cheese. 

seth and monica-- proud parents. good job, kiddies. 

proudest auntie in all the wide world. this was the best day, ever. 

will, sleeping under my HUGE hand. look at all that hair! 

this is the life

ah...i had a pot of chai this morning...and made 81 phone calls (that's right, 81, not counting call backs and wrong numbers) in my snow flake pajama pants. i HEART contract jobs. seriously. and bob dylan sang to me the whole time. life is better.

btw, does anyone know what the arrondo plant is? i can't find anything out about it. apparently, it's bad, because the calls i was making this morning are all about this expo dealing with the safety of arrondo herbicides and arial distribution of said herbicide. info anyone?

mil besos--rmg

happy hour, anyone?

this lady needs an extra-strength martini, with extra olives, and a set of balls so she can say "no" to more projects. i just got done with a very unsatisfying planning meeting, for an even this weekend, which up until the meeting, i felt pretty good about. now, not so much. i am so irritated that i took time out of my day to drive for and hour each way to do a freaking status update, to find out that two people still hadn't done things i'd asked them to to four weeks ago. i almost threw a fit. i did manage to gracefully remind them that i was on a schedule and that we had shit to do , so to please keep tangents to a minimum. why do i feel like a bitch? yuck!remind me that i'm doing this because i like people and love the baby jesus. remind me that my way isn't the only way to get things done. remind me that it's ok to call people out when they are being dumbasses and wasting my time and others. remind me, ok?

and then, i find out that the lobby job is getting ratcheted up by a LONG shot, which means more green for me, but also more research and lots more phone calling. remind me why this is a good idea. remind me that this is keeping my foot in the door for other things, and giving me great work experience and networking capabilities. remind me,ok?

geeze oh man, when did my little life get so freaking busy? this morning, i was all in the dumps about neglecting my social life, and wondering how in the hell i was going to save myself from being a hermit for the rest of my life. suddenly, that seems like a moot point.

ok, enough griping. i have phone calls to make, and media contacts to track down. i love you crazy people.

mil besos--rmg

a day at the races...

no, we didn't win big fat money at the track, yesterday. i know you all probably thought that i hadn't updated this weekend because i was busy blowing a small fortune on tacky jewelry at claire's boutique. no, that was not the case at all. we got seated behind this girl who was cruising on some kind of goof ball, and who fixed her hair every minute or so. and she was a chronic foot tapper. i almost had a fit. it was v. distracting, and my nerves were quite frayed.

i was very glad to get home, even though i didn't make any money. mom and i proceeded to watch crappy tv-- except for the shining, which scared the crap out of me, and drank hot toddies, for the frayed nerves, of course. it was a nice evening in.

recipe for hot toddies (courtesy of the future mrs. alex christman):
1.5 oz bourbon
1/4 lemon
1 T honey
5oz hot water
lather, rinse, repeat

mil besos--rmg

ah, the wonders of technology

so, i'm putting this database together for a lobbying firm in austin. it's all about transportation stuff, which i find horribly boring. at any rate, in my quest for more information, i've had to reasearch community service organizations in four metropolitian areas in texas. some conclusions i have reached: the lion's club needs to invest in a faster server, and include more info on their site that is actually useful. dallas has more municipalities and clubs than any one city has a right to, further cementing my intense dislike of all things dallas, except for my friends who have made the decision to live in the metroplex, and neiman marcus, of course. btw, doesn't metroplex sound like a) a really goofy wrestling move, or b) a really ginormous mall?

my faithful dog, beauregard, has some nasty gas today, which is about the only thing keeping me awake while i cut and paste phone numbers, email addresses, ect. into a word document, so i can print all the info out and dump it into access. blah, oh so boring. i feel like i'm whoring myself out for this job. which i pretty much am, since i'm mostly opposed to lobbying, and could give a crap about whether or not texdot has enough info to get the votes it wants for prop 1. i'm probably not supposed to be telling you all this, but i am, anyway.

thank God for bob marley. and earl grey tea. and my farting dog. they are helping maintain some sanity while i do what any simian with moderate dexterity could accomplish just as quickly as i can. finding out that lobbying was about as sexy as my policy job in dc was is kind of eye opening. talk about things not being what they appear to be. geeze oh man. i keep telling myself i'm not selling out for supplemental income, that i'm just collecting information. but i secretly don't believe that for a minute. i fear i am part of what my friends and i refer to as "the problem", and by that i mean special interest infiltration of our beloved/beloathed (is that a word? if not, it should be...) democracy. eww, sick out. on the other hand, i feel like the baby jesus doesn't want me to be in debt for the rest of my life, so this is ok, because i'm not doing anything against the law, his or the u s of a. i don't know. i do know that the lobby folks think i am a freaking genius and like the work i've already given them, so i guess that's good.

i'm going to the track this weekend, with the fam. it's the breeder's cup. mom and poppy have been doing their homework, so maybe we'll win some money. my grammy and i decided to avoid our homework, and follow our own method. it's highly scientific, and has paid off a number of times, large and small. we pick horses based on their names, and sometimes what color they are. and sometimes we just have a gut feeling, and bet on that horse. laugh if you want, but i made $92 on that method at the kentucky derby. so there.

the book is moving somewhat slowly, and that kind of makes me feel like a slacker. it's starting to diverge into two very separate projects. the graffitti book is my main focus, though. the other, which a few of you may have glanced at, is more of a collection of extended journal entries. i have no idea if i will do anything with that, because i don't know how readable it would be to most people. strong opinions abound in my cobwebby little brain, and i'm not sure if i spent the rest of my life trying, that i could explain everything i feel and think about the things i feel strongly about or spending time pondering. that sentence prolly doesn't make much sense, but i know what i mean.

ok, it's back to the lions' club and their freakishly slow server. i hope the kiwanis folks invested a little more in theirs...

peace out. word to your mother.

mil besos--r

what i really meant to say was...

in the meantime
in between time
there's a fine line between
where you are and where you want to be

on the flip-side
in the shadow
there's a memory of
who you were and who you want to be

on the other hand
in the spotlight
there's a stage lit up
for who you are to all the rest of the world

in the middle, in the twilight, in the gloaming
that's where you get it right.
in the learning, in the burning, in the wrestling
with the angel with all your might.
in the leaving, in the weaving, in the weeping
of the tears you were once too brave to cry
in the trying, in the dying, in the running
of the great life race you just know you can win
you just might find the courage to begin, again.

across the fine lines on your face
across the stage lights in your eyes
across the oceans of the tears that you've cried
across the barrens of your mind
across the wastelands of your heart
across the plenty and the passions and the fears that you hold dear
there's still the change to make it somehow right.

things that vex

some people write about things they like. not me. here's some stuff that drives me nuts...

deer proof fences

the "new lynyrd skynyrd" and the "new doors". also, the "new inxs" and the idea of a new janis joplin.

allergies

when your feet get all cold at night, and you can't warm them up unless you sleep with the heating pad on them. and then you wake up, and they're all sweaty and gross, and you can't go back to sleep because you feel like you've just been in your running shoes.

soaring gas prices

lying politicians

lying media pundits

third world debt

making the effort to take time to send real emails to multiple people, and only getting like two back. nothing like that to make one feel like a total social leper and world's dullest/least favorite/most mediocre friend.

the death penalty

child abuse

pornography

meth

the fact that pot is illegal

waiting for the one phone call you really want and never getting it

trying to go to sleep and not being able to turn off your brain

thinking of the right thing to say two minutes after it would have been appropriate to say

sleep depravation

wasting water

hummers, h2, and the even dumber h3--basically any car that gets less than 15 miles to the gallon

poachers

hurricanes, unless they come in a take-home glass from pat o'briens

misplacing $5

misplacing $50

postage stamps and the fact that they used to only cost like 20 cents when i was little

crappy books

crappy movies

crappy music--like nashville country or britany spears, pretty much anything top 40

people who say they don't like to read

people who say they don't watch the news

the fact that i really do like vh1

the fact that if there is a celine dion song on the radio, i am almost compelled to stop and listen, and sometimes, sing along

traffic

people who don't pick up after their dogs

the way a copy machine smells right before it decides to die

running out of toilet paper and not having anyone to go get more, or having anyone in the next stall you can ask for help

walking into a bathroom and hearing someone throwing up their toenails

cheap vodka

cheap tequila

cheap watercolors and bad brushes

bono NOT winning the nobel peace prize

days when you desperately want to have something good to say, but know that you really just need a) a good cry, and b) a good bitch session.

wonder which today is...

all is well, just a blah day.

mil besos--rmg

you have no idea the power of the dark side, friends and neighbors. no idea, at all. the shear force of this kid's gas is more impressive than any light saber known in the cosmos. and by the way, the helmet has sound effects. oh yes, he can breathe just like darth vader. i'm waiting for him to try and fit his trumpet under that thing.  

debauchery.  

this is my sister-in-law. i adore this girl. seriously, she's one of my top 10 favorite people in the world. and she fits right in, baby.  

an east texas mullet...is there any thing finer? i bagged this one the last time i was at my brother's house. the writing on this mullet's shirt said "red neck and blue collar". i heart it. 

a lady loves this picture. this is the famous esteban. known for his great affection for me, and vodka. it's good to be loved.  

i don't even have the first idea WHO took this picture. since it was on my camera, i'm guessing it was me.  

another day, another dollar

this was a long day. granted, i did get a power nap this afternoon, for which i am profoundly grateful, but it was still a long day. i had lunch with erin and max this afternoon, to discuss college conferece. i think it went quite well, up until a point. ( i should point out that i shamelessly rip off other people's funny material ALL THE TIME. i'm funny, but only moderately so. i stop just short of actually co-opting other people's personal stories, and adding my name in the right places. even that is hard for me. i am a humor mercenary.) so, my friend mike (who's wife's blog you can read, and who's child you can adore @ prolly.blogs.com) is a tukong student. tukong is a martial art form that is very difficult, and very intense. i give mike grief about it sometimes, because students of tukong are referred to as "special combat warriors", and from his discription and my over-active imagination, i assume his master looks like a human verson of shredder from the teen age mutant ninja turtles. there's also a lot of talk about the "death blow", which gives a lot of street cred to just about anything. at any rate... i'm sitting at lunch with erin and max, and we move from talking about college conference into talking about summer camp staff, and how the college kids can sometimes have a very crappy attitude. we talked about being the enforcer, etc. to which i replied that i should come up to camp training to scare the kids. i could carry around a cigar, make threats, carry around a riding crop, and look mean for a week, kind of like marlon wayan's character "major pain". i then made the comment, "well, you know, i am a special combat warrior" which, considering the topic at hand, was a total non-sequitor. max laughed so hard that he spewed dr pepper out of his nose. and then he threw up a little bit. erin and i immediately evacuated the taco cabana patio for the safety of my car, max adjourned to the men's room. seriously, i am not making this up. it was quite funny. in case you were wondering, my return button is on the blink right now, and i just don't feel like rebooting and losing this post. deal. so, i came back home, and hung out with stinky j and baby a for the afternoon. stinky j decked himself out in his darth vader helmet and light saber, and threatened me with his glowing piece of plastic. oooo the dark side. it was very scary, in a lot of ways. some days i look at that kid, and i can't wait to have one of my own. other days, i get one look at him, and my biological clock moves from NOW to NEVER. geeze oh man. pictures to follow. mil besos--rmg

what a weekend

my head still hurts a little bit, and i'm fairly certain my liver won't forgive me for what i did to it for a while. what can i say, it was a weekend of debauchery with esteban and co., and i lived the life of a high dollar hag. and i have to say, i felt like the prettiest straight girl in the club they took me to.

additionally, i should take this time to apologize for all those stray text messages i sent out on friday night/saturday morning. oops. lucky you. if you ever wanted dirt to use against me if i ever run for political office, now you have it.

i will post some pictures later. and speaking of pictures, i got some good bathroom graffitti this weekend. in fact, while i was snapping a picture friday night, in the ladies' room, mind you, a man kicked me out of the stall because he "had to take a wizz". i told him that was no excuse to rush great art, to which esteban replied, "yeah, i'm her gaygent!" we both thought that was VERY funny, but the guy who had to go to the potty did not.

more stories later. baby a had to stay home from school today with a fever, and needs to be rocked for a little while.

mil besos and double shots for the house--rmg

they've though of everything...

whatever you look at online for the whole rest of the day, please look at this! seriously, people, what the hell?

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051007/ap_on_fe_st/ig_nobels

we can put a man on the moon, create what's featured in the above link, put shaq into your phone, run infomercials for ronco products 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, but we can't figure out how to get people off welfare, end hate crimes, cure cancer, or create a vaccine for aids. geeze oh man, people. at least we can say we have plastics, and thereby, the whoopie cushion. See, G-d does have a sense of humor, and i'm sure He/She is laughing at this one...

mil besos--rmg

i'd like an extra shot with that, please

today started at 6am. that's right, 6am. i know, this is a totally different rachel than you are all used to knowing. let me give you a brief review of what's new in my world, or rather give you a rundown of what my days are sort of like...

5:45am-- first alarm goes off. i go back to sleep.

6:00am--last alarm goes off. i get myself up and throw on some clothes i laid out the night before.

6:30am-- i arrive at my cousin sabrina's house to get baby a ready for school

8:15is am-- baby a's bus arrives and carries him away to school after i wave goodbye at the end of the driveway. i start a load of laundry so i can make the kid's bed before he gets home from school, and i head back to my house. on my way, i either stop at starbucks for some rocket fuel, or go tell my grandparents hello, if they are awake.

9am-2:30pm-- arrive home. good days, i nap for a couple of hours. this week, i've been doing a database job for some friends in austin who have a lobbying firm. other days, i've made a trip to san antonio to do some consulting and event planning for ye olde diocese of west texas. who knew my exile would ever end. somewhere in there i eat lunch, make phone calls, and manically check my email. old habits die hard.

2:30pm-- head back over to sabrina's to get ready for the boys to get home. stinky j gets home at 3:30, and has to do homework and bitch about being 12. this takes a while. baby a gets home at 4, and gets some formula and water in his n.g. tube. we hang out, and i mostly laugh at stinky j trying to do his spelling homework. i've been making him do flashcards, and can report that he's getting almost all a's on his tests. and he can spell turquoise. baby a and i lay on the floor and stretch, and watch felicity re-runs and the food network. sometimes we watch little house on the prairie. and i work some more on my database project and try to convince stinky j that burning down the house is a bad idea, and that the gigantic black lab really should live outside, because he slings snot and hair everywhere.

7:45pm-- hook baby a up to his night feed and give him his night meds, with a kiss and a cuddle. and i ask stinky j to be the good kid i know he is deep inside, and i go home to momma.

8pm--get home. momma feeds me and we talk. i usually remember to do the dishes and the odd load of laundry.

9pm-- back to my computer to do more work on the database. it's a killer, man. do you know how many chambers of commerce are in the dallas-fort worth metro area? they are freaking legion. seriously, like at least 120. and those are just the ones google pulled up.

somewhere between 11pm and 1am-- brush my teeth and go to bed.

and now you know all my secrets. well, at least the ones with which i am willing to part.

four weeks til dallas with missy and caro.

three weeks til we find out if i can still plan an event without screwing too much up.

three weeks til wurstfest-- yay beer and sausage. no throw up rides with stinky j this year, seriously.

two months til baby will discovers the world.

one month til the red sox win the world series, again.

about 30 minutes until i check my eyelids for holes.

mil besos--rmg

road side revelation

i drove by southpark meadows on my way home. what i saw made me a little sick to my stomach. instead of the amazing outdoor music venue that was a part of my young adult memory, and the memories of a lot of people i went to college with, there were the makings of a strip mall. a freaking strip mall...like we need another one?

about 12 million years ago, i saw hordefest there. remember hordefest? it was kind of like lalapalooza, on with less well known bands. i saw blues traveler there, right after they released their first album, when john popper was still a fatty. hook was, and still is, one of my top twenty favorite songs, and i remember how i felt the first time i heard it. that song made me want to walk into a room full of my friends, with a beer in one hand, and a good conversation on my lips. sure, i know it's a song about peter pan and wendy. sure i know the chord progression is predictable, and based on pachelbel's canon in d. but it's a great song. and for one period, over six weeks, i played that song first thing in the morning. and that was about four years after the album came out. i drove my housemates crazy. that freaking song still ends up on my mix lists and on mix cd's about 7 times out of 10.

the day i saw blues traveler was a plain old august day, right before i turned 20. it was rainy, and gross, and i saw ben harper right before we went to the b.t. stage. we were sticky, and i was on the verge of begging to be taken home. and then john popper started playing his harmonica. the clouds parted, the pipes came out, and the sticky, sweet, cloying smell of youth and hash mingled and made music of their own. i stood in the crowd, and because i was terrified of being arrested, i didn't smoke the pot, but i was mesmerized by the music. enfolded in it, almost. and i was glad to be alive, in G-d's creation, listening to music that made my heart happy.

i saw dave matthews play at southpark, as well. my friend kerry and i tried to sneak in an icecream bucket full of margaritas, but the security people did their job, and confiscated our sweet treat. the show was amazing. satellite is one of the most sublime songs ever, in my eyes, at least. i remember being 16 and hearing dave on a cassette tape in my friend dustin's bedroom, after i'd given him a haircut, and thinking that it was one of the coolest things ever. i went to the wally, and bought my own cassette tape of dave, and wore the damn thing out. seriously, i warped the tape from listening to it over and over in the tape player in my old rabbit.

dave was great on the day i saw him. i still maintain it was one of the best live shows i've ever seen. he played all my favorites, and played two step, my second favorite dave song. and celebrate, we did. because life is short, but sweet for certain... ah dave, you are a quaker, and that makes you dear to my heart, not just because of all the tasty oatmeal, but because of the good theology and loving-kindness the friendly folk espouse.

and now, a place of song (and st. augustine says that "he who sings prays twice", so you do the math...) has become a place of commerce, which isn't to say that music isn't commerce. it's a strip mall, more of the same, marketing the sameness that we all seem to want, but say we don't. i know that change is the only thing that is constant. i get it. it just made me a little sad to see such a pretty piece of land, a natural amphitheater with incredible acoustics, and a place that had some memories of mine in it's recesses be turned into something utterly ordinary. blah.

i swear if they ever threaten to pave zilker park, or make more parking spaces by barton springs to put in a wal-mart, i will chain myself to the moontower like those armpit hair girls do with the trees in oregon.

end of rant...rachel OUT!

mil besos--rmg

thank God

...it's friday
...for my family, who rocks
...for beta blockers
...for levon helm and robbie robertson
...for xm radio
...for austin, texas
...for employment
...for good friends
...for the fact that tonight i will be asleep before 1 am
...for cold fronts
...for me finally being done with moping around about being old and single
...for baby will, who weighs three pounds, and isn't even due for another two months
...for phone calls and text messages
...for blue skies and green grass and brown dirt, my favorite color trio
...for friday night football games and hot chocolate and knowing i'm not in the band anymore
...for annie lennox's whole "bare" album. i don't care if it sold well or not, i love that thing.
...for "long ride home" by patti griffin
...for mix cds from your friends who sometimes know you better than you know yourself
...for canolis with extra chocolate chips
...for vueve cliquot champagne
...for lone star light beer in a bottle
...for buy one get one free anything

...for you
...for me

mil besos--r

up to speed

well, for those of you who've asked, and for those of you who haven't, here's a snippet of what the book is turning into...

let the fun begin...

In thinking about graffiti, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are several types of graffiti artists (and it is art, friends and neighbors, just look at the budding Picassos who make their mark on the insides of truck stop bathrooms...)

One: “I’m so in love and I want the whole world to know.”

These are the dumb girls who write “Amy Hearts John 4-ever” in black Bic on the inside of every restroom they pass on their way to and from Spring Break, or after Homecoming, or the Prom. As a mark to their undying fidelity, and the undoubted “awesomeness” of their boyfriend, they not only write these little ditties in their algebra notebook, they clutter up the wall space in Wal Mart, Target, their high school and college bathrooms, and in the gas stations used by you and me. Their devotion knows no bounds. And neither does their scorn. I have seen this ditty crossed out, maybe by the artist, and maybe by some tacky passerby, saying that Mr. Wonderful practices poor personal hygiene, or that he doesn’t even like girls, or that he sucks at life. That is where the first kind of graffiti artist turns into the second kind of graffiti artist.

Two: “Today I hate the world”

These are the people who mark though their own or someone else’s “Amy Hearts John 4-ever” and makes disparaging remarks about one or both of those parties. They are also the people who have nothing better to say than “Rudy sucks ballz all day and all night”. Rudy may be the guy who got the promotion at work, instead of the artist. Rudy may be the guy that got the girl (or guy, depending on Rudy’s preference) that the artist had his or her eye on. Rudy may be the kid who stole the artist’s lunch money and shoved him or her into the locker during a passing period. Rudy could be the nicest, most polite, and unassuming person on the block, or Rudy could be a real jerk who deserves to have shit talked about him. In any event, the artist who has nothing good to say in his or her graffiti is intent on letting his or her frustrations OUT, and my bet is that they make their graffiti in fits of anger, wanting nothing more than to say what they have to say, and be done with it. They probably don’t think of the restroom in which they committed character assassination fondly, unlike type 1’s, who will undoubtedly drive by the restroom location with a faint smile on their face, or always have a special place in their heart for Love’s Truck Stops. No, type 2’s just get their angry on and leave.

Three: “Disgusting Perverts with Sharpies”

I can remember a road trip pit stop when I was small, probably about 6 or 7. Someone had gotten after the ladies’ bathroom with a black permanent marker and had drawn the human form, both male and female, in its entire nude splendor. At least I guess that’s what the artist thought the male and female bodies looked like. I have learned in later years that that representation wasn’t all that accurate. At the time, I don’t know who was more surprised, me or my mother. All I could think of was that someone was going to be in big trouble for marking up the bathroom with markers.

I imagine that the people who write swear words and draw genitals on bathroom walls are frustrated people. Maybe they never had the birds and the bees explained to them. Maybe they are struggling with their adult sexual identities. Maybe they were potty trained too early and are mad at their bodies when they have to go to the bathroom. Whatever the case may be, I’m not sure what motivates people to scrawl depictions of coitus, genitals, or things I’ve never even heard of sexually on bathroom walls. But they are there, and so is their artwork. Heaven help the little kids who’s parents’ don’t clear up what’s written on those walls…

Four: “Bigoted Morons “

Unfortunately, we’ve probably all seen more than our share of these tags. They are not a far cry from type 2’s. Their anger is directed at minority groups, all men, all women, countries, ideologies, etc. They spew their anger and hate in ball point pen and marker because they don’t know or don’t want any other avenue to express or educate themselves. This is the kind of graffiti that makes me angry and sad. I imagine this is the kind of graffiti that gas station attendants and restaurant bus staff spend hours scrubbing with abrasives and steel wool, or painting over with white-out or paint matching the stall walls.

Five: “Kilroy Was Here”

These are my one of my favorite type of graffiti artists. They write limericks, snatches of songs, draw cartoons, or tell jokes. They are clearly joyful people, bored while doing their business. They want nothing more than to spread their happiness or humor to other folks. They are the people who came up with my personal favorite piece of graffiti:
Here I sit
Broken hearted.
Came to shit
But only farted.
They are as harmless and well meaning as the people who scrawl the “Amy Hearts John 4-ever” kind of things in bathrooms across the country. They are goofy and wonderful. I know a lot of folks who would and probably do make this kind of graffiti, and my life is better for knowing them.

Six: “Closet Philosophers”

I discovered this kind of graffiti artist in one of my favorite bars in Austin, the Gingerman. In the women’s restroom, in every stall, was a story about a gnome finding his way home through many hardships. The story started in the far restroom and continued through each successive stall. I have also read inspirational religious messages in the form of graffiti, which I adore. These artists want to impart knowledge, or ideas, or just brighten up the day, in another kind of way besides the type five variety’s levity. These people are also fond of passing on health information—like how much the condoms in the vending machine cost, and if they are any good. I imagine they are thoughtful people in their daily life, and just don’t always have the wherewithal to express that in their life outside the bathroom stall.


mil besos--r

nowhere on the list

a catastrophic hurricane was nowhere near the list of things i wanted for my birthday this year. seriously, the only rita i wanted anything to do with was the margarita i was thinking about asking my mom to take me out for on monday, when i actually turn the big 27. looks like we'll still be holed up in the house playing dueling newscasts with cnn and fox, trying to figure out what the hell happened to the beach.

1) i am thankful that my cousins are smart people and are getting the hell out of dodge. i am also thankful that baby charlie is coming to visit me, even though it's because of the hurricane.

2) i am thankful that i didn't take that job in houston, otherwise, i'd be stuck on i-10, chainsmoking and crying to my mother on a rapidly dying cell phone.

3) i am thankful that i have good memories of galveston from when i was little. galveston was the site of my first ever beach trip. if you come see me, i will show you the picture of my and my gramps on stewart beach, before all the medical waste started washing up on it in the mid-80's.

4) i am thankful that i never got rid of the giant sand-dollar that brendan gave me when i was 9, that he got when our families took a joint trip to galveston. i look at that sometimes and remember what a fun trip we had, and what a great friend he has been to me over the years. incidentally, that was also the trip where brendan's mom bought one of those pill-shaver things for removing pills from your sweater. only she and my mom called them "ball-shavers". brendan and eric were very afraid when mom and aunt candy got home and told them what they'd bought at the store. i just remember thinking it was funny that they were hiding under the beds, and screaming about having their balls shaved. and i remember how hard my mom and aunt candy laughed when they explained that the ball shavers were for sweaters, and not for brendan and eric.

5) i am thankful that i have my set of relish forks, in several assorted plastic colored handles, with the words "Galveston, Texas" embossed in genuine imitation gold leaf. i love those things.

6) i am thankful that people are getting out of harms' way. i am thankful that there are good highways in Texas.

that's all. there's a lot to do between now and saturday. pray...

mil besos--rmg

what dreams may come

ok, so a skunk definately got all scared outside my bedroom window last night. the smell was so bad that a) it woke me up, and b) actually cleared out my sinuses. the smell was so pungent that it infiltrated my dreams for the rest of the night. i can't remember what they were about, but it had something to do with scooping feathers into shoeboxes so that my children would be able to function in a good universe. i know, weird.

additionally, i've been doing a lot of thinking about what anonymous had to say about my last post. you know, it's not the wonderful things your friends and family say to or about you that make lasting impressions. no, it's the nasty, snide responses from casual observers that really get stuck in your craw. so, without further ado, anonymous, this is for you.

before i turn 28 (which is in barely a year, 27 is creeping up like a haunt in the night...) i will accomplish the following things for myself, without regard to anyone's schedule but mine. so even though i was up half the night on friday trying to figure out what the hell you meant and who the hell you think you are to make such statements, and even though i know you will probably never coem across this page again, i want to thank you for being such a catalyst. addtionally, my little brother is quite angry with you and said nice things to me about what a pinheaded comment you made. yes, you touched a raw little nerve. congratulations.

here's the list...

1) i will drive route 1, from florida to maine

2) i will see the grand canyon

3) i will see niagra falls

4) i will save enough money to take a trip to europe for six weeks

5) i will finish my book and start the second

6) i will journal at least two days a week

7) i will write five good songs

8) i will go out on five dates with nice guys. i will go out on inumerable dates with mediocre guys in pursuit of the nice guys.

9) i will pay off my credit card

10) i will stop being a romantic and concentrate on being a realist

11) i will write at least one real letter a week, and actually mail it

that's what i've got for the moment. i'll keep you posted. and if any of you want to come along on any or all the adventures, feel free to hop in, anytime.

mil besos (even to you, anonymous),

--rmg

geeze oh man

i just got a picture cd from my last mission trip. while i am not, and never have been, a fan of my own photograph, i have to say that the pictures of me on this particular trip were particularly unflattering. seriously, i look like the wrath of G-d almighty. in every picture, i either look like i'm about to beat the holy hell out of someone, or die of exhaustion. and i had a huge zit that week. the one good picture is of me in pigtails. and i have on sunglasses. and you can see all my worry lines. blah.

however, the photos got me to thinking. thinking about how tired i was in july. every day felt like i was getting up to run a marathon, and in a way, i was. there are moments when i miss my job, miss my kids, even miss the frenzy of my old life. and then i remember the nights i didn't sleep because some kid had confided some secret in me that had broken my heart for them. i remember the panic attack i had at then end of march, and how scared i was that i was really working myself to death, and the realization that i didn't want to die in my bed alone. i remember how scared i was that my heart was racing, and no matter what i thought about, i couldn't make it slow down. those were long nights, and they made for long days.

granted those days were buffered by wonderful collegues and friends. they were buffered by my family and my nearest and dearest. they were buffered by the hand of a merciful and gracious G-d. for that, i am greatful and happy just to wake up everyday and know that that part of my race has been run, and that i did the best job i could do.

lately, i've been trying to write and take good pictures. i've been hanging out with the sweet baby a, and his crazy brother critter j, and it's incredible. there are days when i wonder what is next, what it is that i'm supposed to be doing for the next part of the journey. i said a few posts ago that i thought the preparation was going to have to entail shedding some things, and i still believe that. what i'm trying to figure out is how to shed and get rid of things without loosing myself in the process. i feel like i'm just starting to get a grip on myself again. and maybe that's the key--letting go entirely.

i don't mean going off hermit-style and renouncing my life to gain enlightenment. at least, i don't think i mean that. i don't mean getting all philisophical and starting to talk in abstract nihilistic metaphors. i guess i mean really learning how things work, how i work, and coming to an acceptance about that. i live in this bizarro world where i believe that if everyone could sit down and listen to each other, maybe things wouldn't be in such a muddle. i stress myself out wondering how to mediate conflict, how to get my point across, how to see the other person's point and not condescend or be defensive. maybe it's time i woke up and realized that some conflicts will just rage, regardless of what i think about it, no matter who or what is involved. maybe it's time i woke up to the fact that there is no magic word, no amount of begging G-d, no amount of breast-beating that will teach me who i am and what i'm supposed to be. maybe it's time to let go of answers, and just embrace the questions.

when i used to go to camp as a little girl, we sang a lot of songs. we sang songs on the way to the beach, on the way to the wildlife refuge, on the way to the dining hall, and always in chapel. the other day, on my way home after a long, long, long day, a snatch of a song came flying back at me with such force and clarity that i almost cried. i could smell the sunblock, the sand residue, the bug repelent, and the carpet in the chapel, and i could hear my 12 year old self singing my guts out--"Jesus said, 'I am the light of the world. You people come and follow me. If you follow and love, you'll learn the mystery of what you were meant to do and be'".

i sang that song 100 times at camp, maybe even more, and i believed it every stinking time i sang it. i want to sing that song everyday and believe it everytime i sing it. i want that. i want to sing it and believe it, even though now i know much more than i did when i was 12. i want to remember that G-d takes care of the birds and the flowers, so G-d will take care of me. i want to remember that my life is a prayer, my work is worship, and that i live in the hands of a mighty and loving G-d, so there's nothing really to trouble myself over, in the long run. i want to remember how to do that, and still maintain my edge. see what i mean about letting go? i don't want to do without either of those things, but i know that they can't coexist, or maybe they can. like in college, when i reconciled my ideas about creationism with evolution. or when i reconciled my understanding of human reproduction with the virgin birth. i just don't know. all i do know is that i had just as many questions as my 12 year old self as i do now, they were just simpler questions, then.

that's all, really. just me, rambling and checking in. hope all is well where ever you may find yourself today/tonight.

mil besos--rmg

personally offended

i went to san antonio today to do some shopping. i met up with my buddy erin and hung out at two fabulous malls. i also had the distinct displeasure of viewing one of the worst pieces of visual crap, ever.

the brothers' grimm was awful. it was so bad that it made me angry. it was so bad that i was, as the title of the post indicates, personally offended. i figured that two hours of heath ledger and matt damon would be great, story line aside. eye candy lacking in the new b, and so i was all set to kick back with my illicit popcorn (still adkinsing) and watch a movie with one of my nearest and dearest. ladies and gents-- if schlock like this is the future of hollywood, we are in big trouble. i figured with a director like terry gilliam, it couldn't be too bad, no matter what the review on cnn.com said. i was wrong. half-way through, i thought about leaving, but i figured i had 8.25 plus snacks riding on this, and i had already sat through a chunk of it, i was going to by-God finish it. i had a similar feeling when i read the celestine prophecy. what a piece of crap. but by the time i realized it was a piece of crap, i'd already invested about 3 weeks of nighttime reading, and didn't feel like stopping.

as with my determined reading of the aforementioned tome, i kept wondering when brothers' grimm was going to get good, sure that the next scene would provide the right twist, dialogue, or something to make it worth my while. the most satisfying moment of the whole movie-going experience was the gigantic tinkle i made after holding most of a medium diet coke in while waiting for the "good part". what a wreck.

additionally, i'd like to point out that the movie is set in germany. but the principle actors, with the exception of the bumbling politicos, spoke with a rather posh english accent. does that bother anyone other than me? i mentioned it to erin, who was also somewhat dismayed. this brings up a trend my mom and i have noticed in so-called "historical" programs on the large and small screen, which seems to be, when in doubt, play it english, even if that's dead wrong. what the hell people? in this particular movie, actors pulled off french and italian accents, but there was not a german glottal stop to be heard, and the freaking thing was SET IN GERMANY. some cable channel is doing a series on ancient rome, and the actors are speaking in an english accent. pursuant to a convo with momma, we agreed that a latin accent prolly sounds a lot like an italian accent, so what the hell are the directors doing using english accents with ceasar and his generals? it's madness. it's verbal revisionism, and i don't like it one little bit.

the spoken language is a wonderful thing. i dislike pretension in the spoken word almost as much as i detest grammatical errors, or blatant mispronunciation. i mean, seriously, i heard a retired general refer to ceasar crossing the "rubrican" once on tv. for the sake of the sweet baby jesus, the man was talking about one of the seminal moments in military history, and he is a GENERAL, it's like part of his job to know that crap. i think a little tiny piece of me died that day. kind of like in peter pan, when some says "i don't believe in fairies" and that makes a fairy fall down, dead. i'd like to point out that the only way to bring back the fairy is to clap, very loudly. i think the only way to retrieve that sad, cold, shrunken part of me, is to say "rubican" three times and send me a happy thought.

i'd also like to point out that i realize i make mistakes in the spoken and written language on a daily basis. for that, i am terribly sorry. but i do try. and that's really all i'm asking from hollywood, from pundits, and from my fellow people. end of rant. peace out, foo's.

mil besos--rmg

stumble bum

ok, so today, i went to albertson's to get my mom some sugar-free popsicles. while on the way to the self-check out lane, i blantantly walked right into a display of campbell's soup sippy cup things. i knocked the whole damn thing down, and was lucky i didn't go flying ass-over-teakettle in the process. the crappy thing was that i did it at the front of the store, in plain view of everyone checking out, and the service manager was about 5 feet away from me when it happened. no chance whatsoever in walking away and pretending like it didn't happen. i have no idea what happened to my sense of depth perception. i'm sure the service manager thought i was high or a bit touched. at any rate, he helped me clean up the wreckage, and i went on my merry way.

go freaking figure. however, my awful stomach issues finally paid off. i found two great pieces of graffiti in the alberton's bathroom. saaaa-weet.

life is good. once i get all my shelves put up on the wall, thanks to a stud finder i borrowed from my cousin, sabrina, i will be able to put my books and knick-knacks up, and will be totally unpacked. i wish sabrina had another kind of stud finder...but that's a different post for a different day. blah.

at any rate, i'm 10 pages into the book. i'm looking for a free lance editor(s), so if you'd like a preview, or just want and opportunity to fawn over my budding genius, or want to rip me a new one because i'm a talentless hack, let me know.

mil besos--rmg

alaskan sockeye salmon

salmon swim upstream, to the place of their birth, to spawn and die, to make their life-span come full circle. i'm sure it's not intentional in any cognitive way. they just know to do it. i went to my old home town this weekend. i had no intention of spawning or dying. neither happened, in case you were curious. no, it was just time to go back and see what had changed, what had stayed the same, and to find out more about myself for the next part of the journey.

i came away with two new thoughts. one: this next phase of the journey is all about preparation. for what, i'm not entirely sure, but i know i'm preparing for something. two: preparing is going to have to entail saying goodbye to a lot of things i thought i needed, thought i wanted, and thought i understood. and that is probably going to mean doing what i did last weekend in a lot of different places. driving in, camping out on someone's couch or in a spare room, looking and listening at what's going on around me, in all my old haunts, places i've visited and thought i knew, etc. preparing is going to mean shedding, not necessarily building up, which is the way i have always prepared before. and i have to admit that i am a little scared. ok, i'm a lot scared. and for all my bravado, i have no idea what is next. i know that the book is coming, ever-changing in scope, but not in character. it's still about bathroom graffitti. but i think it's a travel-log and a memoir, too. a kind of pen and ink child that is begging to be born, and that i can do nothing but push out from my mind and hope for the best.

this weekend was fun. not the wild crazy fun that i remember from college goat fests, or even the goat fests of two or three years ago. we have all grown up, and have things to tend to other than sunday morning hangovers. it was odd to be in a group of people i've known my whole life, and in some sense, feel like a total stranger. i'm not married. i'm not dating some fabulous guy. i'm not pregnant or being a parent. i don't work for some a-hole corporation. i don't push paper. i haven't had some life-altering illness or experience. i'm still just me, the chubby girl with the pretty face who knows more than she lets on, and probably runs her mouth too much, except when she can't figure out what to say or how to say it. i am disappointed that i didn't relax more-- maybe i was tired from my work week. maybe i did the chevy chase labor day vacation thing and built up how much fun it was going to be to a level that could never be achieved. maybe i'm disappointed that i missed out on conversations with two dear friends that i just couldn't seem to pin down, because they seemed so otherwise occupied, and i didn't want to be obnoxious. who knows? in the end, it's done. and i learned some good things.

i also learned that i need to put some sunblock in my NEW CAR, so that i don't get a burn on my shoulders when the top's down.

that's all for now. more musings later, i'm sure.

oh, and please pray for my louisiana relatives-- they all got totally cleaned out in the hurricane. they are all alive and well, though, thanks be to God.

and a BIG happy b-day to aunt inez.

mil besos--r

ah, a man and his grill...is there anything more wonderful? nice cheese for the camera, bree. and thanks to you and your preggers wife for hosting me.  

goat--it's what was dinner. yes, this is what all the fuss was about. and no, no one i know won the cookoff. better luck next year, my dearies. 

ok, a little trip down memory lane... this parking lot, right across the street from the radio station was the scene of my first kiss, ever. i had on cut-off levi's, a gray shirt, and my favorite blue and gray nikes. it was 10:47 on a saturday night in february 1996, and alanis morrisette was on my radio.  

ah, potential site for my first graffiti photo. alas, it was a total bust. this bathroom, oddly enough, was clean as a freaking whistle. additionally, my grand-dad built this little gem of a porcelain facility many moons ago.