last night, i went to sleep thinking about New Orleans. i was remembering my first benignet, when i was 9. i burned the heck out of my tongue. i was remembering the French Quarter through the eyes of my 9 year old self-- how scared i was and how much my little brother loved it. i was remembering the bubble gum icecream cone i ate in jackson square, and the street performers, working for tips in the shadow of St. Louis Cathedral. i was thinking how grateful i was that my new orleans family, and my new orleans friends are safe and out of harm's way. and i was praying that city park was fairing well, and that the animals in audobon park were ok, too. i was hoping that the nice lady at pat o'brien's, who gives you mints and paper towels in the ladies' room was ok. i was hoping that the little man who read my palm in jackson square had found a safe place to weather the storm, as well. i was glad that my nanny and fred were safe with the baby Jesus, and high up in a mable wall, and that nanny didn't have to worry about not being able to get shrimp for months.
new orleans is a great town-- it's a giant whore of a town, to be sure, but a whore more in line with belle watling from gone with the wind, than some nasty angry woman of ill-repute. as an adult, i have loved new orleans. i have loved walking through the quarter, hearing the jazz and blues seep seductively out of every crack and crevice on and off bourbon street. i have loved walking off my buzz from a hurricane, and topping it off with a caffiene buzz from too much french market coffee and a hand rolled cigar. i have experienced the perfect poached egg at commander's palace, because brunch is the most important meal of the day. and if you're going to new orleans, leave your diet at home. the perfect night out in new orleans? oh, i've had it, and thank the sweet baby Jesus, i might get to have one again...and this time, i will get the red haired lady to take our picture at pat o's, and i'll keep my glass, too.
and while new orleans is the most famous city getting ripped a new one, it bears repeating that other people in other places need our thoughts, and prayers, too.
Lord, have mercy.
mil besos--rmg
29 August 2005
26 August 2005
world class napper
that's what i'm on my way to becoming, again, friends and neighbors. thank the sweet baby Jesus i haven't lost everything i learned about world class napping in college, because this getting up at 5:45 every morning is kicking my adkin's shrinking butt, real hard. before this week, the last time i was up before six was to clear security before an airplane flight to boston. what the hell people?
my nearest and dearest know that morning is really not "my" time of day. i do really well, exceptionally well, from about 11am-3am. the eight hours inbetween are just not pleasant to witness. thankfully, the only person who has to deal with me from 5:45 to about 6:20 is myself. and the only person who has to deal with me from 6:20 until 8:15 is sweet baby a, and he loves me because i sing to him while i dress him for school. and he gets a good pep talk. this kid loves the green cards, whom i love, also. when the green cards come on the radio, we both smile, and sometimes he giggles. like i said in an earlier post, with a 12 year old cerebral palsy patient, it's the little victories that make you the happiest.
i think i'm going to get my dream car on wednesday or thursday. i'm so freaking psyched. btw, i owe the texas grandparents major graditude for wanting the buick. i feel like i can breathe, now. and if all goes well, i will finally have the bug convertible i've dreamed about having since i was about 14. holy crap, people. i am so excited. and goat fest is this next weekend. and i think i'm going to a kinky friedman rally tomorrow night. having a life is fun. remind me why, at 26, i've finally decided to have one? what the hell was my problem? i know, i know, i was loving on some kids, and i will never regret that for one minute. but still, i hope all the fun hasn't passed me by...
despite my angst, and the angst of my generation, i have to say that the old adage of "the journey of a 1000 miles begins with one step" is quite true. sometimes the best decision you can make is to just pick a hand and jump out there. like baz lurhman says, your chances are 50/50. so are everyone else's.
seize something, whether it's the day or not, because teddy roosevelt said that honor goes to the people who had the stones to try, and not the wusses in the corner who kept counting the cost of fighting for something, that's a paraphrase, of course. goethe said "be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid". jesus said, "consider the lilies of the field". i think i like that merging of minds. it kind of makes me want to go kick a little booty and take names later. but i'll probably just make sweet baby a's brother, critter j, do his homework and drink some juice. 12 year olds are curious creatures. God bless my mother for not drowning me when i was 12. what a crappy age.
for those of you who care: i found some hilarious notes from high school government class the other day, which can be bought for a price. does anyone remember the flow chart of "death, tyranny, and slavery"? also, i have some clandestine notes that esteban and i passed during our senior year. we were funny bitches then, and we are funny bitches now, only slighty more jaded, which makes us more funny, and slightly more bitter. ah life, you are a grand comedy.
in case you haven't noticed, there was no coherent theme in this post. in fact, if i submitted this post for diagnostics, i'd prolly be diagnosed with adult add. hope you enjoyed, anyway.
mil besos-rmg
my nearest and dearest know that morning is really not "my" time of day. i do really well, exceptionally well, from about 11am-3am. the eight hours inbetween are just not pleasant to witness. thankfully, the only person who has to deal with me from 5:45 to about 6:20 is myself. and the only person who has to deal with me from 6:20 until 8:15 is sweet baby a, and he loves me because i sing to him while i dress him for school. and he gets a good pep talk. this kid loves the green cards, whom i love, also. when the green cards come on the radio, we both smile, and sometimes he giggles. like i said in an earlier post, with a 12 year old cerebral palsy patient, it's the little victories that make you the happiest.
i think i'm going to get my dream car on wednesday or thursday. i'm so freaking psyched. btw, i owe the texas grandparents major graditude for wanting the buick. i feel like i can breathe, now. and if all goes well, i will finally have the bug convertible i've dreamed about having since i was about 14. holy crap, people. i am so excited. and goat fest is this next weekend. and i think i'm going to a kinky friedman rally tomorrow night. having a life is fun. remind me why, at 26, i've finally decided to have one? what the hell was my problem? i know, i know, i was loving on some kids, and i will never regret that for one minute. but still, i hope all the fun hasn't passed me by...
despite my angst, and the angst of my generation, i have to say that the old adage of "the journey of a 1000 miles begins with one step" is quite true. sometimes the best decision you can make is to just pick a hand and jump out there. like baz lurhman says, your chances are 50/50. so are everyone else's.
seize something, whether it's the day or not, because teddy roosevelt said that honor goes to the people who had the stones to try, and not the wusses in the corner who kept counting the cost of fighting for something, that's a paraphrase, of course. goethe said "be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid". jesus said, "consider the lilies of the field". i think i like that merging of minds. it kind of makes me want to go kick a little booty and take names later. but i'll probably just make sweet baby a's brother, critter j, do his homework and drink some juice. 12 year olds are curious creatures. God bless my mother for not drowning me when i was 12. what a crappy age.
for those of you who care: i found some hilarious notes from high school government class the other day, which can be bought for a price. does anyone remember the flow chart of "death, tyranny, and slavery"? also, i have some clandestine notes that esteban and i passed during our senior year. we were funny bitches then, and we are funny bitches now, only slighty more jaded, which makes us more funny, and slightly more bitter. ah life, you are a grand comedy.
in case you haven't noticed, there was no coherent theme in this post. in fact, if i submitted this post for diagnostics, i'd prolly be diagnosed with adult add. hope you enjoyed, anyway.
mil besos-rmg
18 August 2005
prelude to a kiss
i submitted an essay to national public radio's program "this i believe". i guess it's a way to test the waters of this new vocational direction i seem to be throwing myself. it's a paring down of something i wrote in february. pasted below is what i sent the fine peeps at npr. lemme know what you think. maybe i'll even get to be on the radio (freaking finally, since i never got to dj for knel, like all the other cool people in brady...). i'll keep you posted.
I believe that eating humble pie is vitally important to me maintaining my grounding as a human being. Several months ago, I got a major dose of pie. Two heartbreaks, one professional, and the other personal, had put me on my guard and prompted what can only be described as a month-long fit of self-righteous indignation. I couldn’t see anything but my hurt, my desires, all the things I had done to make situations right and what everyone else had done to make the situations wrong. A dose of humble pie was in order.
That piece of pie didn’t come in some cataclysmic way, it came to me while I was staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, getting ready for work one day. I realized that I had refused to see that the professional and personal situations went south with a little help from me, as well. I realized that I wasn’t blameless, but I surely wasn’t being persecuted. I realized that humble pie covers a multitude of messes, and that I had a big steaming wedge with name on it.
The humble pie I recently ate wasn’t the first, and I know it won’t be my last. However, it just might be my most memorable piece of humble pie ever, because I was so aware of what was going on. I have this mental picture of the waitress of the universe just standing over me with a chipped truck-stop variety plate containing a big chunk, of humble pie, handing me a giant plastic spork, and a glass of skim milk. She’s standing over me, snapping her gum and smoking a 120, and yelling at me in the “Flo” voice from "Mel's Diner"-- "Eat the damn pie, sweetheart, 'cause we ain't got all day, and someone else needs that booth."
Being humble means being a realist-- there are days when I just don't get it—don’t get life, don’t get my family, don’t get my friends, don’t get my purpose in life, I just don’t get it, period. Being humble, to me, means being able to admit that, and live with the lessons life presents me to learn how to get it. It also means accepting that every other person in the world struggles with “getting it” just like I do. That admission , and the acceptance that goes along with it is some of the hardest work I will ever do. And I will do it again, and again, and again over the course of my life.
Yes, I believe in humble pie, because I believe that being humble is a virtue we can use more of in this world. Humble pie reminds me not to feel too guilty about the chances to which my pride has blinded me, but to stay focused on the chances that I can see, the love I can offer and accept, once I am willing to pick up my fork and eat.
mil besos--r
I believe that eating humble pie is vitally important to me maintaining my grounding as a human being. Several months ago, I got a major dose of pie. Two heartbreaks, one professional, and the other personal, had put me on my guard and prompted what can only be described as a month-long fit of self-righteous indignation. I couldn’t see anything but my hurt, my desires, all the things I had done to make situations right and what everyone else had done to make the situations wrong. A dose of humble pie was in order.
That piece of pie didn’t come in some cataclysmic way, it came to me while I was staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, getting ready for work one day. I realized that I had refused to see that the professional and personal situations went south with a little help from me, as well. I realized that I wasn’t blameless, but I surely wasn’t being persecuted. I realized that humble pie covers a multitude of messes, and that I had a big steaming wedge with name on it.
The humble pie I recently ate wasn’t the first, and I know it won’t be my last. However, it just might be my most memorable piece of humble pie ever, because I was so aware of what was going on. I have this mental picture of the waitress of the universe just standing over me with a chipped truck-stop variety plate containing a big chunk, of humble pie, handing me a giant plastic spork, and a glass of skim milk. She’s standing over me, snapping her gum and smoking a 120, and yelling at me in the “Flo” voice from "Mel's Diner"-- "Eat the damn pie, sweetheart, 'cause we ain't got all day, and someone else needs that booth."
Being humble means being a realist-- there are days when I just don't get it—don’t get life, don’t get my family, don’t get my friends, don’t get my purpose in life, I just don’t get it, period. Being humble, to me, means being able to admit that, and live with the lessons life presents me to learn how to get it. It also means accepting that every other person in the world struggles with “getting it” just like I do. That admission , and the acceptance that goes along with it is some of the hardest work I will ever do. And I will do it again, and again, and again over the course of my life.
Yes, I believe in humble pie, because I believe that being humble is a virtue we can use more of in this world. Humble pie reminds me not to feel too guilty about the chances to which my pride has blinded me, but to stay focused on the chances that I can see, the love I can offer and accept, once I am willing to pick up my fork and eat.
mil besos--r
17 August 2005
ch-ch-changes
life moves pretty fast-- ferris bueller said that, and i believe it. mom and the texas grand parents are going to b-town this weekend to close up shop at the old house. there will be the requisite garage sale, so if you're in the neighborhood, be sure to drop by for some good swag. slightly used swag, but good swag, never the less. the movers are picking up the rest of the stuff on monday and moving it down here.
my alabama grandparents are also moving out of their house. they've lived in the same town and the same house for 40-odd years. they have alot of stuff to move, as well. and they are moving to be closer to granny's irish twin, my aunt cynthia, and her husband, uncle devon (pronounced dee-von). they will also be closer to my uncle pedro and aunt inez, which is a good thing. i'm sure if you're in the neighborhood for that garage sale, you could also pick up some nice, slightly used swag, as well.
all the moving and scurrying is a little disconcerting. i still wake up from dreams sometimes wondering what house i'm in, or apartment, or dorm room. it's a little bizarre, but it's part of life.
tuesday night, i will be sleeping in my new/old bed. get this-- the bedroom suit i'm using was bought for me before i was born, at a random estate sale/garage sale in the b-town. it was my first bed, after i graduated from my baby bed. and the mattress is the same one i've had since i was 10. it's a good mattress. it will be good to be in that bed, again. life seems to be asking me to go back home, for a little while. and i don't care what any one says, you can go home, again. i know it because i'm there.
in retrospect, the last five years since i graduated college have been on fast-forward-- i haven't stopped for longer than ten days to stop and evaluate in that whole time. prolly not such a hot idea. and my psyche and body are kicking my ass for that lack of rest. but family is good for the soul, and mine is surely being soothed. can't wait to get all the way back on my feet and start visiting the far flung relations and the far flung friends. life is good, and getting better every day.
mil besos--r
my alabama grandparents are also moving out of their house. they've lived in the same town and the same house for 40-odd years. they have alot of stuff to move, as well. and they are moving to be closer to granny's irish twin, my aunt cynthia, and her husband, uncle devon (pronounced dee-von). they will also be closer to my uncle pedro and aunt inez, which is a good thing. i'm sure if you're in the neighborhood for that garage sale, you could also pick up some nice, slightly used swag, as well.
all the moving and scurrying is a little disconcerting. i still wake up from dreams sometimes wondering what house i'm in, or apartment, or dorm room. it's a little bizarre, but it's part of life.
tuesday night, i will be sleeping in my new/old bed. get this-- the bedroom suit i'm using was bought for me before i was born, at a random estate sale/garage sale in the b-town. it was my first bed, after i graduated from my baby bed. and the mattress is the same one i've had since i was 10. it's a good mattress. it will be good to be in that bed, again. life seems to be asking me to go back home, for a little while. and i don't care what any one says, you can go home, again. i know it because i'm there.
in retrospect, the last five years since i graduated college have been on fast-forward-- i haven't stopped for longer than ten days to stop and evaluate in that whole time. prolly not such a hot idea. and my psyche and body are kicking my ass for that lack of rest. but family is good for the soul, and mine is surely being soothed. can't wait to get all the way back on my feet and start visiting the far flung relations and the far flung friends. life is good, and getting better every day.
mil besos--r
14 August 2005
unloading
i'm dumping my apartment tomorrow. i am so relieved. seriously, this is a huge step, and i'm so glad things have worked out, up to this point. i surely didn't want to pay rent on some place i was no longer living. it was a good apartment, and i'll miss it a little. but it's time for it to belong to someone else. btw, craiglist is amazing. i highly recommend them for unloading stuff, and to peruse job opportunities.
i'm slightly less tired than i was two weeks ago, and am feeling more and more like myself, again. and those horrid lines on my forehead are growing a bit more faint, thank God for small favors, huh? and i feel a bit more relaxed. it's good to not be a total wack-job, anymore. the further i get away from my former situation, the more sure i am that i did the right thing. i mean, i miss the kids, who are still calling me to say hello and keep me updated on their drama. that's nice.
in a not so nice section of this week, i was horribly disappointed in a person whom i had placed a fair deal of trust. it occured to me, as i was crying, screaming, and trying not to swear on the phone with this person, that dante was right to put traitors in the lowest circle of hell. geeze oh man, what a mess. it's also taught me that, while i am usually a pretty good judge of character, there are those for whom loyalty means nothing compared to their own selfish interest. it will be a long time, and maybe ever before i speak to this person again. and while there is a measure of forgiveness that i am willing to offer, that time is not now, and i will never forget this situation.
forgetting, in my opinion, is not part of forgiveness, which is a two way street. when you forgive someone, you become a partner in their life, and must be willing to hold that person accountable for their actions, which isn't to say that you are responsible for constantly bulldogging that person. it's a fine line. but there is a big fat line between being someone's friend and confidante and being what amounts to a horrid a-hole. that line was most definately crossed. it's been a long time since i've been this angry at anyone, it's been a long time since i've yelled at anyone on the phone. and i can't tell you the last time i was willfully betrayed. it makes me want to cry and throw up and call that person just to hang up. hang up like how you can only do on a real phone--slam it into the wall and then pick it up and slam it again. there is no point to hanging up a flip phone with any kind of vehemence. blah.
so, long story short, and this one is surely a cautionary tale, guard your friendship cards, and if you have a friendship card, freaking protect it like it's your own beating heart. seriously. because good friendships are hard to find, hard to maintain, and who wants to cash in all that work and all those memories? those who are willing to put their own wants and needs above their friends, in the way that this person performed, are the reason that so many superficial realtionships exist, and the reason that so many people of faith, especially in my age bracket, take being "right" over being "righteous". for myself, i have no need and no desire for superficiality, in life or in friends. but it still sucks, and it still hurts.
sorry for the downer, it's just kind of where my head is right now. that's about all i have to report. hope all is well on the other end of this thing. life is still good, because it's real and messy, and sometimes, it hurts like hell, but it's mine, and it's the only one i've got. but i'll take hurting like hell because i invite people into my universe over stearing this ship of life on my own any day of the week. like goethe says, "nothing is worth more than this day".
mil besos--r
i'm slightly less tired than i was two weeks ago, and am feeling more and more like myself, again. and those horrid lines on my forehead are growing a bit more faint, thank God for small favors, huh? and i feel a bit more relaxed. it's good to not be a total wack-job, anymore. the further i get away from my former situation, the more sure i am that i did the right thing. i mean, i miss the kids, who are still calling me to say hello and keep me updated on their drama. that's nice.
in a not so nice section of this week, i was horribly disappointed in a person whom i had placed a fair deal of trust. it occured to me, as i was crying, screaming, and trying not to swear on the phone with this person, that dante was right to put traitors in the lowest circle of hell. geeze oh man, what a mess. it's also taught me that, while i am usually a pretty good judge of character, there are those for whom loyalty means nothing compared to their own selfish interest. it will be a long time, and maybe ever before i speak to this person again. and while there is a measure of forgiveness that i am willing to offer, that time is not now, and i will never forget this situation.
forgetting, in my opinion, is not part of forgiveness, which is a two way street. when you forgive someone, you become a partner in their life, and must be willing to hold that person accountable for their actions, which isn't to say that you are responsible for constantly bulldogging that person. it's a fine line. but there is a big fat line between being someone's friend and confidante and being what amounts to a horrid a-hole. that line was most definately crossed. it's been a long time since i've been this angry at anyone, it's been a long time since i've yelled at anyone on the phone. and i can't tell you the last time i was willfully betrayed. it makes me want to cry and throw up and call that person just to hang up. hang up like how you can only do on a real phone--slam it into the wall and then pick it up and slam it again. there is no point to hanging up a flip phone with any kind of vehemence. blah.
so, long story short, and this one is surely a cautionary tale, guard your friendship cards, and if you have a friendship card, freaking protect it like it's your own beating heart. seriously. because good friendships are hard to find, hard to maintain, and who wants to cash in all that work and all those memories? those who are willing to put their own wants and needs above their friends, in the way that this person performed, are the reason that so many superficial realtionships exist, and the reason that so many people of faith, especially in my age bracket, take being "right" over being "righteous". for myself, i have no need and no desire for superficiality, in life or in friends. but it still sucks, and it still hurts.
sorry for the downer, it's just kind of where my head is right now. that's about all i have to report. hope all is well on the other end of this thing. life is still good, because it's real and messy, and sometimes, it hurts like hell, but it's mine, and it's the only one i've got. but i'll take hurting like hell because i invite people into my universe over stearing this ship of life on my own any day of the week. like goethe says, "nothing is worth more than this day".
mil besos--r
11 August 2005
perseids and other falling things
the perseid meteor shower is set to begin in a few hours. i know, i am a huge nerd. the perseids are the last of the summer showers, and we have to wait until november for the leonids to give us some more fodder upon which to wish. my college astronomy teacher would be so proud of me for knowing that...he was a huge nerd, too.
but seriously, i wish i could go find a big flat rock, still hot from the oven of a day we had today, lay back and just watch the sky. funny what you take for granted-- like free time, or meteor showers, or being able to see the inky blackness of the "real" night sky. if i weren't so completely pooped out, you can bet i'd be in the middle of some hay field, praying for no snakes, and wishing my little heart out on those tiny pieces of dust that fly through the air once in a season. besides, i cheated and got to see a few of the geminids when i was out west on vacay...lucky me.
the new job is harder than i thought it would be. 12 year old cerebral palsy patients are sometimes very hard to carry. and 12 year old cerebral palsy patients who can't tell you what's the matter are sometimes very hard to soothe. but i've teased a smile or two out of sweet baby a, and those were what i've realized are called "little victories", and i am more thankful for those than just about anything i've managed to make onmy own in the last 5 years.
5 years...that's a long time. that's when i graduated college and thought i was moving to dc to take over the world with good policy and love for all people. and i was still 21. what a sucker, huh? it's amazing to me that i was ever that idealistic. it's even more amazing to me that i still have that crazy tendency to hope that things will turn out for the best, that wishing on that one shooting star could really turn the tide, make the difference, fix the situation, ect. funny, huh? sort of, i guess. either that or i'm finally just giving in to the madness. and maybe that's ok, too. ultimately, i have to go back to one of my favorite movies, the shawshank redemption (also a great short story, btw), in which the protagonist (andy dufresne) reminds the hardened lifer-con (red) that "hope is a good thing...maybe the best thing". that loop gets stuck in my head, and even on days when i don't believe that hoping something will happen will make it so, i feel a tiny bit better.
as a further downer aside, and to really stink this post up with some nostalgic drivel for the masses, i'll go ahead and say that i was very saddened by this week's passing of peter jennings. what a great man. seriously. and while i was watching mr. rogers with sweet baby a yesterday, i had the melancholic and probably over-dramatic idea that three men who were very pivotal in helping make me the person i am today passed away at what seems to be sort of critical junctures in my pursuit of adulthood. my dad died before i started college, which sucked, because i was still trying to figure out what i wanted to do when i grew up, and i fully expected him to be around for that little venture, and he taught me about life as a real, authentic person with screw ups and personality flaws and relationships that are sometimes better than others, and how to say that you're sorry and mean it, how to deal and not deal with strengths and weaknesses, and how to accept God's grace andmercy so you can offer them to those around you--he and mom taught me about who i wanted to be as a person, and tried like hell to show me how to get there. mr. rogers died right as i was beginning to teach children about God and the universe and doing good things, and he taught me that everyone was my neighbor, and that we all lived in the same neightborhood, and that make-believe was for grown-ups, too. peter jennings died as i was beginning to venture out of my comfortable little existence and see what kind of life i could carve out for myself in the wide world, and he was always the one (i used to watch world news tonight at 6:30 every night in my dad's lap, or by his chair, without fail, until i was in high school and had too much shit to do) who told me if the world was the same as when i woke up, and i expected to know who our collective friends were, who was screwing stuff up and how, etc. bizarre, no?
anyway, it's been a long week. i'm so freaking glad tomorrow is friday. i may buy a bottle of wine on the way home from work tomorrow and drink the whole thing (maybe share a glass with mom, since she's letting me sponge, and cooking me real dinner every night, and packing me a lunch and snack every morning...and she has cable. i could get very comfortable here, for a while, anyway...seriously, how amazing and wonderful and full of love is it that the woman who's body i invaded for 9 months is letting me invade her house and life all over again, just at the point at which i'm supposed to be doing stuff on my own? she's amazing. she's my hero. love my momma big...i also love parentetical phrases real big, too...and elipses...) while i try and sort out the chaos of boxes that seem to be growing like some kind of paste-board rabbit colony. seriously, i don't remember having this much shit in my personal possession...
viva la adkins. i miss real chocolate...
mil besos--rmg
but seriously, i wish i could go find a big flat rock, still hot from the oven of a day we had today, lay back and just watch the sky. funny what you take for granted-- like free time, or meteor showers, or being able to see the inky blackness of the "real" night sky. if i weren't so completely pooped out, you can bet i'd be in the middle of some hay field, praying for no snakes, and wishing my little heart out on those tiny pieces of dust that fly through the air once in a season. besides, i cheated and got to see a few of the geminids when i was out west on vacay...lucky me.
the new job is harder than i thought it would be. 12 year old cerebral palsy patients are sometimes very hard to carry. and 12 year old cerebral palsy patients who can't tell you what's the matter are sometimes very hard to soothe. but i've teased a smile or two out of sweet baby a, and those were what i've realized are called "little victories", and i am more thankful for those than just about anything i've managed to make onmy own in the last 5 years.
5 years...that's a long time. that's when i graduated college and thought i was moving to dc to take over the world with good policy and love for all people. and i was still 21. what a sucker, huh? it's amazing to me that i was ever that idealistic. it's even more amazing to me that i still have that crazy tendency to hope that things will turn out for the best, that wishing on that one shooting star could really turn the tide, make the difference, fix the situation, ect. funny, huh? sort of, i guess. either that or i'm finally just giving in to the madness. and maybe that's ok, too. ultimately, i have to go back to one of my favorite movies, the shawshank redemption (also a great short story, btw), in which the protagonist (andy dufresne) reminds the hardened lifer-con (red) that "hope is a good thing...maybe the best thing". that loop gets stuck in my head, and even on days when i don't believe that hoping something will happen will make it so, i feel a tiny bit better.
as a further downer aside, and to really stink this post up with some nostalgic drivel for the masses, i'll go ahead and say that i was very saddened by this week's passing of peter jennings. what a great man. seriously. and while i was watching mr. rogers with sweet baby a yesterday, i had the melancholic and probably over-dramatic idea that three men who were very pivotal in helping make me the person i am today passed away at what seems to be sort of critical junctures in my pursuit of adulthood. my dad died before i started college, which sucked, because i was still trying to figure out what i wanted to do when i grew up, and i fully expected him to be around for that little venture, and he taught me about life as a real, authentic person with screw ups and personality flaws and relationships that are sometimes better than others, and how to say that you're sorry and mean it, how to deal and not deal with strengths and weaknesses, and how to accept God's grace andmercy so you can offer them to those around you--he and mom taught me about who i wanted to be as a person, and tried like hell to show me how to get there. mr. rogers died right as i was beginning to teach children about God and the universe and doing good things, and he taught me that everyone was my neighbor, and that we all lived in the same neightborhood, and that make-believe was for grown-ups, too. peter jennings died as i was beginning to venture out of my comfortable little existence and see what kind of life i could carve out for myself in the wide world, and he was always the one (i used to watch world news tonight at 6:30 every night in my dad's lap, or by his chair, without fail, until i was in high school and had too much shit to do) who told me if the world was the same as when i woke up, and i expected to know who our collective friends were, who was screwing stuff up and how, etc. bizarre, no?
anyway, it's been a long week. i'm so freaking glad tomorrow is friday. i may buy a bottle of wine on the way home from work tomorrow and drink the whole thing (maybe share a glass with mom, since she's letting me sponge, and cooking me real dinner every night, and packing me a lunch and snack every morning...and she has cable. i could get very comfortable here, for a while, anyway...seriously, how amazing and wonderful and full of love is it that the woman who's body i invaded for 9 months is letting me invade her house and life all over again, just at the point at which i'm supposed to be doing stuff on my own? she's amazing. she's my hero. love my momma big...i also love parentetical phrases real big, too...and elipses...) while i try and sort out the chaos of boxes that seem to be growing like some kind of paste-board rabbit colony. seriously, i don't remember having this much shit in my personal possession...
viva la adkins. i miss real chocolate...
mil besos--rmg
08 August 2005
reset
ok, campers. the great move has been accomplished. even though i'm still living out of my suitcase, all my stuff has been relocated to either the storage shed, or momma's house. at some point, i will unpack and settle. since cat and poppy are closing on the brady house later this month, there is some stuff from there that will have to be integrated, so really there's no point in starting to settle, yet. i keep remind myself that in order to say "yes" to something, you often have to say "no" to something else. i think i've been saying "yes" and "no" in the right places, but it's still a scary process to put one life down, and pick another life up. in the end, i keep reminding myself that God offers each of us enough grace and mercy to get through everyday, and today is just a day. plus, it's good to be back in my mother's house. and we both agreed that we aren't allowed to talk about politics, so i should get to stay here for a while. tee hee.
today is rest day, and i slept until almost 1pm. a lady is quite tired. i know, i know, everyone is tired, and i'm a dirty whore for rubbing my sleep in your face. to top off the sleep-fest, i've been watching crap on tv for the last hour. there's this bizarre special on the discovery channel about this animal called hogzilla, that they killed in some random georgia swamp last summer. i have surely missed cable. i'll be getting my work info this afternoon,which will be good. i'm giving myself until labor day to start taking pictures and writing for the book.
btw, re: labor day-- who all is going to goat fest? i'm trying to decide if a pilgrimage to the b-town is in order. i figure richard's park may be a good place to get some seriously trashy pictures for the book, but i need to be assured that i will have an appropriate amount of people to form an entourage. lemme know, peeps.
big love to you all. and watch out for hogzilla, because apparently, they are EVERYWHERE.
mil besos-r
today is rest day, and i slept until almost 1pm. a lady is quite tired. i know, i know, everyone is tired, and i'm a dirty whore for rubbing my sleep in your face. to top off the sleep-fest, i've been watching crap on tv for the last hour. there's this bizarre special on the discovery channel about this animal called hogzilla, that they killed in some random georgia swamp last summer. i have surely missed cable. i'll be getting my work info this afternoon,which will be good. i'm giving myself until labor day to start taking pictures and writing for the book.
btw, re: labor day-- who all is going to goat fest? i'm trying to decide if a pilgrimage to the b-town is in order. i figure richard's park may be a good place to get some seriously trashy pictures for the book, but i need to be assured that i will have an appropriate amount of people to form an entourage. lemme know, peeps.
big love to you all. and watch out for hogzilla, because apparently, they are EVERYWHERE.
mil besos-r
03 August 2005
rerun
drum roll...ok, ready?
what i'll tell you now is a tried and true story that deserves to be told for the masses. if you've alread heard me relate this story, you won't hurt my feelings by not reading the rest of this post.
picture it-- washington, dc, october 2000. i'm sitting in an interminable staff meeting at my very first real job (ok, it was an internship, but it was real to me...) thinking that this is where the action is. i'm making policy. or i'm helping people make policy by sending their faxes and cutting their bagels. whatever. it's staff meeting, and i'm answering phones, taking notes, participating in conversation, blah blah blah. this is where i should give you some background.
when i worked in dc as a lowly copy rat with a very pretentious title at a very small non-profit, i learned that manners can get you anywhere in life. lack of manners can, apparently, make you the executive director of a non-profit who rubs elbows with some of dc's a-listers. i also learned that if you are the underling of said executive director, it's best to sit near the door and always make sure you don't get trapped away from the door in a room with the executive director after lunch. now, back to the story...
our conference room was dingy. dingy like a third rate brothel in matamoros, but with less wall-paper and a wheezing copy machine. and our conference table was one of the 6 foot jobs with a peeling top, wonky legs, and the plastic binding holding the thing together was poking out in places, so you had to be careful not to rub against it. there were six of us in the room that fateful day. i was seated at the foot of the table, furthest from the door. to quote my friend cory will, irony, you are a bastard.
i'm at the foot, executive director was at my left hand, project manager was to my right. my buddy hopie was at the top right of the table, office manager was at the head, assistant director was to the left of her, next to executive director. and we're talking about inane mailings, where to put the extra large stamps that executive director loves so much ("place large stamps here" said the note on top of ALL our return envelopes, which caused so much confusion in the over 80 set, who of course called me with all sorts of questions and issues about that little ditty...), how we fold things, who's sending money, how can we get more money, when are we having a board meeting, blah blah blah. and then IT happened.
executive director had already struck me as not-so-suave in the short two months i had been in his employ. it had also come to my attention that executive director had a bad back, for which he carried a tiny, horribly crud-encrusted therma-rest type pillow. at one time, i think the cursed thing was a happy, sunshine yellow. by the time i became aquainted with it, the poor thing was ratty around the edges, and was the color of a pretty ripe sinus infection. eww, gross. that freaking pillow was with executive director ALL the time. like linus and his blankie. silly me, i thought executive director was simply leaning over to adjust his pillow. no, no, that would be the normal thing to do, and i was working for King Crazy in Crazyville, and King Crazy had had friend chicken from down the street for lunch that day. i know because i had to pick it up for him. apparently, sometimes the chicken didn't agree with him, and i found out the hard way.
executive director leaned forward, and to the side, in what appeared to be a minor adjusting motion, common to anyone who's been sitting for a while. what he was really doing was sitting forward, lifting the leg nearest yours truly, and cutting one of the most melodious and malodorous farts to which i have ever personally borne witness. seriously, this thing had two distict pitches, and while it was brief, it was mighty. it sounded like gabriel's trumpet. and for me, it was kind of like the end of the world.
see, i'm the kind of person who has always found farting HILARIOUS. farting, to me, and to my family, has always been the height of humor. i know, we are sick people. my mother always playfully joked with me that thinking farting was funny was going to get me into trouble one day. she really DOES know everything. at the second the fart was blasted my way, and before my mouth had time to react to what my ears had just heard (and felt, there was concussion, people), my brain intercepted what could have been a disasterous response. i swear i was thinking about a million thoughts a minute, not the least of which was "what in the HELL just happend? did that a-hole really just fart AT me? isn't ANYONE going to say something? isn't HE going to say something? oh crap, i'm out of air...i have to breath...why God, why?" hope had put her head down on the table and was shaking with the effort of trying not to burst out laughing, everyone else just looked kind of stunned, like executive director had just called gandhi a cow-eating facist. all i'm thinking is "that fart smells like cobwebs. no, that fart smells like a basement. how in the hell do farts smell like that. he farted at ME. i want to kick that fart back up his butthole, not because he farted at me, and not because i don't like this person, but because i can't give him grief for it, can't acknowlege it, and i have to fake like it never happend, and i can't laugh about this and i think my lungs are going to explode."
and we finished the staff meeting in relative peace. i think. the lack of oxygen and the trauma may have caused me to black out for a few minutes. later that afternoon, while i was working on yet another stupid mailing that had to be folded, collated, and stuffed into the envelope (which had to have a BIG stamp, and be licked just right-- not too much spit, or the glue rubs off, but not too little because then it won't seal right...) executive director came into my office, stood by my little desk, put one hand in his pants al bundy-style, and proceeded to tell me i had just stuffed (thank God i hadn't sealed the envelopes yet...) and folded all the wrong things into about 80 million envelopes. and then he yelled at me. i took it, redid the job, and then promptly ran to the bathroom and cried like a little kid with a skinned knee. and then i went back down to my shabby little office and wrote the story you've just read (with minor adjustments, of course) and copied it to everyone in my email address book. i felt better.
i don't know why i felt the urge to re-tell that story. maybe it's because it's the best fart story i know. maybe it's because i'm a little nostalgic about jobs i used to have, right about now. maybe it's because it's just a funny story. maybe it's because it's almost 12:15 in the morning and i had too much diet coke and can't quite go to sleep just yet. i don't know. what i do know is that i hope it made you laugh. and think about how cobwebs smell.
mil besos-r
what i'll tell you now is a tried and true story that deserves to be told for the masses. if you've alread heard me relate this story, you won't hurt my feelings by not reading the rest of this post.
picture it-- washington, dc, october 2000. i'm sitting in an interminable staff meeting at my very first real job (ok, it was an internship, but it was real to me...) thinking that this is where the action is. i'm making policy. or i'm helping people make policy by sending their faxes and cutting their bagels. whatever. it's staff meeting, and i'm answering phones, taking notes, participating in conversation, blah blah blah. this is where i should give you some background.
when i worked in dc as a lowly copy rat with a very pretentious title at a very small non-profit, i learned that manners can get you anywhere in life. lack of manners can, apparently, make you the executive director of a non-profit who rubs elbows with some of dc's a-listers. i also learned that if you are the underling of said executive director, it's best to sit near the door and always make sure you don't get trapped away from the door in a room with the executive director after lunch. now, back to the story...
our conference room was dingy. dingy like a third rate brothel in matamoros, but with less wall-paper and a wheezing copy machine. and our conference table was one of the 6 foot jobs with a peeling top, wonky legs, and the plastic binding holding the thing together was poking out in places, so you had to be careful not to rub against it. there were six of us in the room that fateful day. i was seated at the foot of the table, furthest from the door. to quote my friend cory will, irony, you are a bastard.
i'm at the foot, executive director was at my left hand, project manager was to my right. my buddy hopie was at the top right of the table, office manager was at the head, assistant director was to the left of her, next to executive director. and we're talking about inane mailings, where to put the extra large stamps that executive director loves so much ("place large stamps here" said the note on top of ALL our return envelopes, which caused so much confusion in the over 80 set, who of course called me with all sorts of questions and issues about that little ditty...), how we fold things, who's sending money, how can we get more money, when are we having a board meeting, blah blah blah. and then IT happened.
executive director had already struck me as not-so-suave in the short two months i had been in his employ. it had also come to my attention that executive director had a bad back, for which he carried a tiny, horribly crud-encrusted therma-rest type pillow. at one time, i think the cursed thing was a happy, sunshine yellow. by the time i became aquainted with it, the poor thing was ratty around the edges, and was the color of a pretty ripe sinus infection. eww, gross. that freaking pillow was with executive director ALL the time. like linus and his blankie. silly me, i thought executive director was simply leaning over to adjust his pillow. no, no, that would be the normal thing to do, and i was working for King Crazy in Crazyville, and King Crazy had had friend chicken from down the street for lunch that day. i know because i had to pick it up for him. apparently, sometimes the chicken didn't agree with him, and i found out the hard way.
executive director leaned forward, and to the side, in what appeared to be a minor adjusting motion, common to anyone who's been sitting for a while. what he was really doing was sitting forward, lifting the leg nearest yours truly, and cutting one of the most melodious and malodorous farts to which i have ever personally borne witness. seriously, this thing had two distict pitches, and while it was brief, it was mighty. it sounded like gabriel's trumpet. and for me, it was kind of like the end of the world.
see, i'm the kind of person who has always found farting HILARIOUS. farting, to me, and to my family, has always been the height of humor. i know, we are sick people. my mother always playfully joked with me that thinking farting was funny was going to get me into trouble one day. she really DOES know everything. at the second the fart was blasted my way, and before my mouth had time to react to what my ears had just heard (and felt, there was concussion, people), my brain intercepted what could have been a disasterous response. i swear i was thinking about a million thoughts a minute, not the least of which was "what in the HELL just happend? did that a-hole really just fart AT me? isn't ANYONE going to say something? isn't HE going to say something? oh crap, i'm out of air...i have to breath...why God, why?" hope had put her head down on the table and was shaking with the effort of trying not to burst out laughing, everyone else just looked kind of stunned, like executive director had just called gandhi a cow-eating facist. all i'm thinking is "that fart smells like cobwebs. no, that fart smells like a basement. how in the hell do farts smell like that. he farted at ME. i want to kick that fart back up his butthole, not because he farted at me, and not because i don't like this person, but because i can't give him grief for it, can't acknowlege it, and i have to fake like it never happend, and i can't laugh about this and i think my lungs are going to explode."
and we finished the staff meeting in relative peace. i think. the lack of oxygen and the trauma may have caused me to black out for a few minutes. later that afternoon, while i was working on yet another stupid mailing that had to be folded, collated, and stuffed into the envelope (which had to have a BIG stamp, and be licked just right-- not too much spit, or the glue rubs off, but not too little because then it won't seal right...) executive director came into my office, stood by my little desk, put one hand in his pants al bundy-style, and proceeded to tell me i had just stuffed (thank God i hadn't sealed the envelopes yet...) and folded all the wrong things into about 80 million envelopes. and then he yelled at me. i took it, redid the job, and then promptly ran to the bathroom and cried like a little kid with a skinned knee. and then i went back down to my shabby little office and wrote the story you've just read (with minor adjustments, of course) and copied it to everyone in my email address book. i felt better.
i don't know why i felt the urge to re-tell that story. maybe it's because it's the best fart story i know. maybe it's because i'm a little nostalgic about jobs i used to have, right about now. maybe it's because it's just a funny story. maybe it's because it's almost 12:15 in the morning and i had too much diet coke and can't quite go to sleep just yet. i don't know. what i do know is that i hope it made you laugh. and think about how cobwebs smell.
mil besos-r
01 August 2005
first day
and so my life as a free-lance what-have-you begins. and it's not too bad, to tell you the truth. i have about a million thank-you cards to write, about a million more things to pack up, and i still need to clean my bathroom. all i can say is thank God for clorox bleach pens. those things are freaking amazing.
i'd did data entry for about a million hours today. i had to wear my reading glasses. i can't really complain, though, because i'm being well compensated, and this little contract job means that i won't have much lag time in getting the payola this month. that makes me very happy.
my friend ottoman is coming to hang out with me this week. i'm pretty excited. he's been at camp all summer long, so we haven't gotten to hang out much. ottoman is the very wise person who told me once that the furthest distance any of us will ever have to travel is the eighteen inches between our brains and our hearts. he's a smart kid and i like chatting with him. funny what happens when kids you had as a camp counselor become your friends.
so my life is beginning something new. i woke up this morning and was just fine. i'll probably miss things more the further away i get from the actual day-in day-out of the job. i'm sure i will wake up in the middle of the night more than once, wondering if i threw away all the pizza boxes, returned the tapes, rented the cars, copied the permission slips, wrote out the check requests, etc. and then i'll remember that i don't do that anymore. and i'll roll right over, turn the pillow to the cool side, and slip right back into my slumber. either that or i'll cry my head off and wonder what the hell i walked away from.
somehow, though, even though both will probably happen, i'm psyched out of my mind to see what happens next. i was talking to esteban this afternoon, and he and i have both had a doozy of the last half-year. we both agreed that we feel like something wonderful is about to happen. someone i was talking to the other day said that the buddha taught that when something wonderful is about to be born, rotten and crappy things happen right in your face, to keep you in the present, and not focused on the future good thing about to happen. i don't know about that rationale, but it sounds fair enough, i guess.
my friend Jesus said that the rain falls on the just and the unjust, that if God is big enough to take care of the birds of the air and the flowers in the field, God is big enough to take care of me. that definately sounds fair enough. and i know that whatever and whenever and however the next chapter of my life works itself out-- this is my life, and even when things suck, or when i'm confused, or tired, or just don't know which way to go next, it's my life.
and life is beautiful, even when it's hard. even when you realize that people you've stretched out your hands to could care less, or worse, never cared to begin with and just gave you lip service out of some sick and twisted sense of chivalry, even when you tell the truth and get into trouble for telling it, or when people can't tell the difference between the truth and a big fat lie, there are moments when the beauty of life is enough to break your heart, in a good way. like the time i cried all the way home from work because of a situation i couldn't fix, and the sun was setting right in my rearview mirror, making a vanilla sky right behind me, and in an instant, i was humbled enough to be greatful just to be alive to see that. the situation still sucked, but i had found a little beauty to see me through. or the time i was three weeks away from turning 18 and cried all the way home from san angelo, after a horrible weekend, and i had to pull the car over because it was raining harder than i was crying, and then the clouds broke open and the most vivid rainbow sprawled out across that dark grey west texas sky, and i knew that life was still beautiful. or the time i had my heart ripped out and shoved in a paper bag, only to have said bag thrown on the sidewalk and set promptly on fire and stomped on like a gigantic bag of human waste, but came home to see a beautiful butterbean of a baby with no teeth and huge blue eyes to remind me that love sometimes looks different than we expect it to look, and comes to us in different ways than we expect it. or the time i got all gross and gooby and was almost in tears in the front seat of my own freaking car because two of my cherubs were flirting like mad in the car and i felt like someone's mother on a pre-driving stage car date, added to the fact that i had just found my first gray hair and had come to the crashing conclusion that no matter how much sleep i got or how much cold cream i put on, the wrinkles in my forehead were here to stay, and my fabulous sister in law called to tell me that the most wonderful baby in the whole wide world was going to be coming to see me in 7.5 months. i know that was a horrible run on sentence, and that you got the point after the first two illustrations. but it's my blog, and i'm allowing myself to get carried away. partly because they are stories i love to tell, and partly because the more you say something good, the more it becomes true and lovely. or something like that...
anyway, i'm pooped. in fact, when i went to target today, i got a basket out of the cart corral ( i can't believe i just typed "cart corral"), turned around, and thought --hey, that car looks just like mine, only to realize that it WAS in fact, my car. geeze, oh man. and that's after i got 8 hours of sleep last night. go figure. i think i've hit sleep deficit that's somewhat comprable to the gross nation debt, which, as of last count, is in the trillions. but who's counting, really?
life is good. life is beautiful.
mil besos-rmg
i'd did data entry for about a million hours today. i had to wear my reading glasses. i can't really complain, though, because i'm being well compensated, and this little contract job means that i won't have much lag time in getting the payola this month. that makes me very happy.
my friend ottoman is coming to hang out with me this week. i'm pretty excited. he's been at camp all summer long, so we haven't gotten to hang out much. ottoman is the very wise person who told me once that the furthest distance any of us will ever have to travel is the eighteen inches between our brains and our hearts. he's a smart kid and i like chatting with him. funny what happens when kids you had as a camp counselor become your friends.
so my life is beginning something new. i woke up this morning and was just fine. i'll probably miss things more the further away i get from the actual day-in day-out of the job. i'm sure i will wake up in the middle of the night more than once, wondering if i threw away all the pizza boxes, returned the tapes, rented the cars, copied the permission slips, wrote out the check requests, etc. and then i'll remember that i don't do that anymore. and i'll roll right over, turn the pillow to the cool side, and slip right back into my slumber. either that or i'll cry my head off and wonder what the hell i walked away from.
somehow, though, even though both will probably happen, i'm psyched out of my mind to see what happens next. i was talking to esteban this afternoon, and he and i have both had a doozy of the last half-year. we both agreed that we feel like something wonderful is about to happen. someone i was talking to the other day said that the buddha taught that when something wonderful is about to be born, rotten and crappy things happen right in your face, to keep you in the present, and not focused on the future good thing about to happen. i don't know about that rationale, but it sounds fair enough, i guess.
my friend Jesus said that the rain falls on the just and the unjust, that if God is big enough to take care of the birds of the air and the flowers in the field, God is big enough to take care of me. that definately sounds fair enough. and i know that whatever and whenever and however the next chapter of my life works itself out-- this is my life, and even when things suck, or when i'm confused, or tired, or just don't know which way to go next, it's my life.
and life is beautiful, even when it's hard. even when you realize that people you've stretched out your hands to could care less, or worse, never cared to begin with and just gave you lip service out of some sick and twisted sense of chivalry, even when you tell the truth and get into trouble for telling it, or when people can't tell the difference between the truth and a big fat lie, there are moments when the beauty of life is enough to break your heart, in a good way. like the time i cried all the way home from work because of a situation i couldn't fix, and the sun was setting right in my rearview mirror, making a vanilla sky right behind me, and in an instant, i was humbled enough to be greatful just to be alive to see that. the situation still sucked, but i had found a little beauty to see me through. or the time i was three weeks away from turning 18 and cried all the way home from san angelo, after a horrible weekend, and i had to pull the car over because it was raining harder than i was crying, and then the clouds broke open and the most vivid rainbow sprawled out across that dark grey west texas sky, and i knew that life was still beautiful. or the time i had my heart ripped out and shoved in a paper bag, only to have said bag thrown on the sidewalk and set promptly on fire and stomped on like a gigantic bag of human waste, but came home to see a beautiful butterbean of a baby with no teeth and huge blue eyes to remind me that love sometimes looks different than we expect it to look, and comes to us in different ways than we expect it. or the time i got all gross and gooby and was almost in tears in the front seat of my own freaking car because two of my cherubs were flirting like mad in the car and i felt like someone's mother on a pre-driving stage car date, added to the fact that i had just found my first gray hair and had come to the crashing conclusion that no matter how much sleep i got or how much cold cream i put on, the wrinkles in my forehead were here to stay, and my fabulous sister in law called to tell me that the most wonderful baby in the whole wide world was going to be coming to see me in 7.5 months. i know that was a horrible run on sentence, and that you got the point after the first two illustrations. but it's my blog, and i'm allowing myself to get carried away. partly because they are stories i love to tell, and partly because the more you say something good, the more it becomes true and lovely. or something like that...
anyway, i'm pooped. in fact, when i went to target today, i got a basket out of the cart corral ( i can't believe i just typed "cart corral"), turned around, and thought --hey, that car looks just like mine, only to realize that it WAS in fact, my car. geeze, oh man. and that's after i got 8 hours of sleep last night. go figure. i think i've hit sleep deficit that's somewhat comprable to the gross nation debt, which, as of last count, is in the trillions. but who's counting, really?
life is good. life is beautiful.
mil besos-rmg
29 July 2005
champagne or bourbon?
well, i've reached the finish line, thanks be to God. today was my last official day as youth minister at the shep. sunday is my farewell/retirement party. i'm having a wide range of emotions, at the moment.
i'm caught somewhere between putting in my scissor sisters' cd and cracking open a bottle of champagne to celebrate being done and putting in a johnny cash cd and cracking open a bottle of jack daniels and being a little sad. what i will actually do is get a coke slurpee from 7-11, listen to james mcmurtry and some other mix cds and finish packing up my apartment. drinking alone is never a good idea, and i have a ton of stuff to do that is better done while not sweating out any kind of adult drink.
the last four years have been amazing. thanks for reading the blogs and email updates throughout. i'm not done with the blogs or the random emails, but they will be a different kind of flavor, probably. and thanks also for putting up with my endless stories about "my kids" at parties, on camping trips, in the car, etc. it goes without saying that they have brought so much to my life-- it's been an amazing ride. and in spite of the bittersweet that goes with saying goodbye to anything, i'm ready to stop riding for a while.
the picture taking and writing commences next week. so, keep your eyes peeled in the bathroom, and let me know if you find any gems. that way, you will be keeping me busy, and almost certainly guaranteeing yourself a visit from me. yay.
mil besos-rmg
i'm caught somewhere between putting in my scissor sisters' cd and cracking open a bottle of champagne to celebrate being done and putting in a johnny cash cd and cracking open a bottle of jack daniels and being a little sad. what i will actually do is get a coke slurpee from 7-11, listen to james mcmurtry and some other mix cds and finish packing up my apartment. drinking alone is never a good idea, and i have a ton of stuff to do that is better done while not sweating out any kind of adult drink.
the last four years have been amazing. thanks for reading the blogs and email updates throughout. i'm not done with the blogs or the random emails, but they will be a different kind of flavor, probably. and thanks also for putting up with my endless stories about "my kids" at parties, on camping trips, in the car, etc. it goes without saying that they have brought so much to my life-- it's been an amazing ride. and in spite of the bittersweet that goes with saying goodbye to anything, i'm ready to stop riding for a while.
the picture taking and writing commences next week. so, keep your eyes peeled in the bathroom, and let me know if you find any gems. that way, you will be keeping me busy, and almost certainly guaranteeing yourself a visit from me. yay.
mil besos-rmg
26 July 2005
this is like that one pixie's song...
you know the one i'm talking about, probably. if you've seen fight club. if you haven't, the rest of this post won't make much sense to you. but you should keep reading anyway, because i'm so tired that i'll probably say some funny things.
With your feet in the air
And your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind
Where is my mind
Where is my mind
that's the part in the movie when all the bank buildings start exploding and the entire world gets put on reset. i'm right there, kids. reset.
i am showing the apartment at 8 tonight, after my last meeting for work. my favorite kids keep dropping by and staying...and staying...and staying. it's kind of like the time i tried to quit smoking by chaining a whole pack in the hopes that i would just get sick of them and never want one again. the only thing THAT little experiment brought me was a raspy voice for about a week and a really over-stimulated nicotine drive. what THIS little experiment is getting me is way behind in my schedule of "Things To Do", but i love it, anyway. seriously, if i have to go to snow beach one more time, i am going to turn into a freaking wedding cake flavored snow cone.
my farting cherub has been right by my warm side since saturday, almost non-stop. i adore this kid. but he's such a pain in the ass, too. i will have a child this disgusting and wonderful this day, if G-d is merciful and humorus, at the same time. but he's working my nerves a little bit, too. he told me yesterday that he wanted to spend "pretty much every available minute hanging out until you leave..." what the hell? it's not like i'm dying. don't get me wrong, it's good to be loved, as well. but today, when i was trying to get my database synched up with the main database in the office, and the farting cherub was laying on the floor like a human rug and singing the sponge-bob song, i had some serious questions about whether or not i can, in fact, maintain some semblance of sanity for the rest of this week. sweet mother of mercy...
and then one of my drama queens has been by my warm side all week, as well. she's freaking about college and talking smack about the boy who broke up with her right after she took him to prom. and i have had to hear alot about rush clothes, which would be a stretch for me to listen to on a good day. the upside, this little drama queen left me the new US weekly, with jude law on the cover--which i haven't gotten to read in two days because of the packing madness, etc. and i don't care that he got busted with his nanny--i mean, i do care-- it's just further evidence of the decay of blah blah blah, what--i'm too tired to liberal rant--isn't that sick a little bit? at any rate he's beautiful to look at-- way, way, way far out of this lady's league, but still beautiful to view, despite the fact that he's a two-timing schmuck.
i have to go to one last vestry meeting. father rhoda says they have a treat for me...
i'll keep you posted.
mil besos-r
With your feet in the air
And your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind
Where is my mind
Where is my mind
that's the part in the movie when all the bank buildings start exploding and the entire world gets put on reset. i'm right there, kids. reset.
i am showing the apartment at 8 tonight, after my last meeting for work. my favorite kids keep dropping by and staying...and staying...and staying. it's kind of like the time i tried to quit smoking by chaining a whole pack in the hopes that i would just get sick of them and never want one again. the only thing THAT little experiment brought me was a raspy voice for about a week and a really over-stimulated nicotine drive. what THIS little experiment is getting me is way behind in my schedule of "Things To Do", but i love it, anyway. seriously, if i have to go to snow beach one more time, i am going to turn into a freaking wedding cake flavored snow cone.
my farting cherub has been right by my warm side since saturday, almost non-stop. i adore this kid. but he's such a pain in the ass, too. i will have a child this disgusting and wonderful this day, if G-d is merciful and humorus, at the same time. but he's working my nerves a little bit, too. he told me yesterday that he wanted to spend "pretty much every available minute hanging out until you leave..." what the hell? it's not like i'm dying. don't get me wrong, it's good to be loved, as well. but today, when i was trying to get my database synched up with the main database in the office, and the farting cherub was laying on the floor like a human rug and singing the sponge-bob song, i had some serious questions about whether or not i can, in fact, maintain some semblance of sanity for the rest of this week. sweet mother of mercy...
and then one of my drama queens has been by my warm side all week, as well. she's freaking about college and talking smack about the boy who broke up with her right after she took him to prom. and i have had to hear alot about rush clothes, which would be a stretch for me to listen to on a good day. the upside, this little drama queen left me the new US weekly, with jude law on the cover--which i haven't gotten to read in two days because of the packing madness, etc. and i don't care that he got busted with his nanny--i mean, i do care-- it's just further evidence of the decay of blah blah blah, what--i'm too tired to liberal rant--isn't that sick a little bit? at any rate he's beautiful to look at-- way, way, way far out of this lady's league, but still beautiful to view, despite the fact that he's a two-timing schmuck.
i have to go to one last vestry meeting. father rhoda says they have a treat for me...
i'll keep you posted.
mil besos-r
25 July 2005
simplify, simplify, simplify
the great transition of 2005 is in full swing. i'm about 1/4 moved, with a ton of stuff still to pack. derkerita is a genius for suggesting that i post up my sub-lease on craigslist, because i just might get it unloaded, now. my texas grandparents think they want to buy my car from me, and give me the townie for a trade-in. i changed my phone plan to a cheaper one (i still have a ridiculous amount of minutes, so don't stop calling). i need to cancel my gym membership so i can save a little jack. but, best of all, i have employment, again. i'll be my sweet baby a's care attendant, which i am very humbled and excited to do for him, his mom, and his brother. i am totally exhausted and can't wait to take a nap, but that will have to wait for a week or two. christmas looks promising...
life is good. i'm relishing the thought of packing up, leaving things packed for a while, and figuring out how and when and where to start fresh. it's daunting, but very exciting, as well. in the meantime, i'm spending a lot of time with my best kids. we are laughing, crying, packing, and telling stories. it's nice. but it also makes me a little more tired everytime i hang out with them. ah, the freaking irony.
i can't wait to start on the book. it's time.
mil besos-r
life is good. i'm relishing the thought of packing up, leaving things packed for a while, and figuring out how and when and where to start fresh. it's daunting, but very exciting, as well. in the meantime, i'm spending a lot of time with my best kids. we are laughing, crying, packing, and telling stories. it's nice. but it also makes me a little more tired everytime i hang out with them. ah, the freaking irony.
i can't wait to start on the book. it's time.
mil besos-r
22 July 2005
happy feast of st. mary magdalen
its july 22nd, and that can only mean one thing-- its time to celebrate the feast day of my favorite (and Jesus' favorite, too) saint, mary magdalen. yay for the mag. you can read all about her life and story on en.wikipedia.org.
in other news, but also related to womens' issues, i'd like to take this opportunity to thank George W. Bush for selling out all the "safety moms" who voted for him, some against their own better judgement, believing that he was invested in protecting our bodies, and not just our souls. what better way to thank these women for their votes of confidence than to recommend John Roberts, Jr. for the vacancy left by the only truly swing vote on the whole court, and one of my personal heros, Sandra Day O'Connor. it's kind of like trading in your cadillac for a yugo. it's going to be disappointing, but at least you'll suck as much as everyone else. i'm sure there are plenty of moderate women jurists out there who would have been more than good at a job on the bench. all i'm saying is that W. could use some street cred with the ladies, especially this lady. nominating a woman to fill the position, even if she were a crazy neo-con june cleaver who wanted nothing more than to vacuum in her pearls and crinolines, at least would have been throwing the huddled silent majority a freaking bone. and don't even get me started on the plame issue with regard to our good friend mr. rove. Lord, have mercy.
As an aside, and to make a comment which i am sure will make at least some of your blood boil, my dear readers... Why is it so important for this president to have supreme court justices who will read the consititution of the united states through the eyes of original intent, but not their bibles? just something to think about...i know i've been thinking about it. a lot.
end of rant. God bless us, everyone, even (and especially) the people i think are pin-heads.
mil besos-r
in other news, but also related to womens' issues, i'd like to take this opportunity to thank George W. Bush for selling out all the "safety moms" who voted for him, some against their own better judgement, believing that he was invested in protecting our bodies, and not just our souls. what better way to thank these women for their votes of confidence than to recommend John Roberts, Jr. for the vacancy left by the only truly swing vote on the whole court, and one of my personal heros, Sandra Day O'Connor. it's kind of like trading in your cadillac for a yugo. it's going to be disappointing, but at least you'll suck as much as everyone else. i'm sure there are plenty of moderate women jurists out there who would have been more than good at a job on the bench. all i'm saying is that W. could use some street cred with the ladies, especially this lady. nominating a woman to fill the position, even if she were a crazy neo-con june cleaver who wanted nothing more than to vacuum in her pearls and crinolines, at least would have been throwing the huddled silent majority a freaking bone. and don't even get me started on the plame issue with regard to our good friend mr. rove. Lord, have mercy.
As an aside, and to make a comment which i am sure will make at least some of your blood boil, my dear readers... Why is it so important for this president to have supreme court justices who will read the consititution of the united states through the eyes of original intent, but not their bibles? just something to think about...i know i've been thinking about it. a lot.
end of rant. God bless us, everyone, even (and especially) the people i think are pin-heads.
mil besos-r
21 July 2005
i can see the finish line
oh friends and neighbors, we are approaching the end of something. and while its a little sad, i'm mostly just ready to sleep for about a week. then i'll ponder.
yesterday, i did something i've never done before. i'd thought about it for a while, and had always passed over the idea and just gone back to my old methods. yesterday, i got my legs waxed. i'm left feeling the following: 1) i can't believe i just paid someone 30 bucks to put me through that. 2) i can't believe i didn't shave for two point five weeks. 3) i can't believe after all that, my legs still aren't smooth, and once i shave them, they will be patchy for the rest of the summer. what the hell people? i am boycotting leg waxing for the rest of my adult life.
and, as if that weren't enough, while the lady was waxing my eyebrows (a practice i strongly advocate and will continue to favor), she was doing some tweezing, and came across this eyebrow hair that was like 2 inches long. no kidding, i know it was that long, because she made me open up my eyes to look at it. i don't know who was more bothered by it-- her or me. at least it wasn't a gray eyebrow. that could have been bad...
back to cleaning out and sorting through the last four years of my life...its been interesting, so far.
mil besos--r
yesterday, i did something i've never done before. i'd thought about it for a while, and had always passed over the idea and just gone back to my old methods. yesterday, i got my legs waxed. i'm left feeling the following: 1) i can't believe i just paid someone 30 bucks to put me through that. 2) i can't believe i didn't shave for two point five weeks. 3) i can't believe after all that, my legs still aren't smooth, and once i shave them, they will be patchy for the rest of the summer. what the hell people? i am boycotting leg waxing for the rest of my adult life.
and, as if that weren't enough, while the lady was waxing my eyebrows (a practice i strongly advocate and will continue to favor), she was doing some tweezing, and came across this eyebrow hair that was like 2 inches long. no kidding, i know it was that long, because she made me open up my eyes to look at it. i don't know who was more bothered by it-- her or me. at least it wasn't a gray eyebrow. that could have been bad...
back to cleaning out and sorting through the last four years of my life...its been interesting, so far.
mil besos--r
19 July 2005
story time
ok, this is how the last 12 days of mission trip to sewanee went down... suffice it to say that by the time we got out of the city limits, my mantra had become "God has a plan", because mine flew in the crapper in a hurry...
6th-- we left a-tex, drove to little rock. it was a long ride. on the way there, i got a big fat speeding ticket in georgetown. i now hate suburbs with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. i paid it today. my bank account is now $181 dollars lighter. damn ticket quotas.
7th-- we wake up, take the little angels to waffle house in little rock, and i wonder out loud if president clinton ever ate at this one. in response to the bombings in london, the gas prices shoot up 10 cents a gallon while we're inside. as a side note, waffle house doesn't take credit cards or checks. but they do have an atm. shady, very shady. full of grease and sass, we took off for the cumberland plateau and a weeks' worth of work and dirty laundry. we were very excited. we arrived in sewanee at about 5pm, got unpacked, set up the kitchen, and took the kids to eat at a place in town called shenanigans. the reuben, according to smelly j (my dear friend from waco, who was another youth minister on the trip), was superlative. the banjo king (one of my nearest and dearest from college, who's married to the fabulous laura (i missed you on this trip like crazy, lady)) and i both agreed that we had one of the smelliest groups of kids we'd ever personally smelled on this trip. note that the banjo king and i can both be very smelly kids as well. note also that we went through four bottles of fabreeze, one of which was antibacterial fabreeze, in an effort to make our stinkers smell better. the fact that we changed altitude rapidly didn't help the stink, either.
8th--friday. we sleep in, thank the baby Jesus. we play the first of many rounds of ultimate frisbee. stinky j and i go into "town" and buy about 30 pounds of lunch meat, 6 gallons of milk, a watermelon that never even got cut, cheese, cream cheese, margarine, etc. we also bought a kick ball emblazoned with the justice league, and got a really cool batman mask. stinky j suggested that we make eggs erroneous for breakfast one morning. i laughed so hard for so long that i was sore the next day. i think the check out lady thought i was high. good times.
9th--saturday. the other group from houston shows up and messes with our group dynamic a little bit. by sunday, after a small fit or two, everything is ironed out. by this time, its become painfully clear that some of these kids don't want to be on mission trip. seems they read "swim all day and chase boobs" on the top of the brochure instead of "work hard and love jesus". what a bunch of morons. no, seriously. i think my tubes may have psychosomatically tied themselves at one point. we also go to pond swim this day-- i was very happy. i also really needed a shower after that swim, which i didn't get until the next day, for a variety of reasons i'll be kind enough to leave out.
10th--sunday. stinky j and another sponsor have to go to the er because they have pus in the back of their throats. i am not happy. the rest of us go to church, and i skip the sermon to have some quiet time. i make it back for the creed, because i have impeccable timing. i see my dear caro's mama at church, and mrs. bet gives me the best hug i've had in days. i feel much better about "things". we have our orientation that afternoon with the habitat guy. the banjo king and i are immediately underwhelmed and i begin to get what we call "worried and upset" because he doesn't have a) enough work for all 36 of us and b) a clue as to what he should do with us if it rains. which brings me to my next point-- hurricane freaking dennis. what a pain in my booty. seriously. mostly because it cut out one work site altogether, because we were supposed to be doing yard work. in a yard full of red clay. not a chance in hell, people.
11th-- monday. we have a wonderful breakfast with the lovely kitchen ladies at st. mary's (who cook big gigantic eggy grandma breakfasts, and make you take bacon AND sausage) and put some lipstick on the pig that was our mission trip. we got rained out of our worksites, and instead of farting around all day and napping, we worked at st. mary's, much to the surprise and delight of fr. doug, the director, and mr. jerry, the groundskeeper (who used to be a nuclear engineer in Chattanooga...). we picked up the limbs from the wind storm the night before. we weeded out the labyrinth. we dug the iris bulbs out of one bed, collected them all in a bag, and replanted the bed with marigolds. we painted one of the dorm rooms. and before the week was over, we built a deck on the edge of a bluff behind the dining room. monday night, we slept like rocks.
12th--tuesday. we eat more. alot more. part of the work crew got to go to the housing site. everyone else kept working at st. mary's, which is how things would roll for the rest of the week. he who must be obeyed and occasionally footnoted was called in to trouble shoot for us, and gave us the go ahead to buy the wood for the deck. fr. doug was so happy and surprised that he cried a little. he loved us by the end of the week. so the banjo king and stinky j drove off to winchester to buy lumber for the deck. and they bough concrete. 640 pounds of it. that's a lot of concrete. i stayed back at the ranch with my little angels. we dug huge boulders out of the ground with pick axes and shovels. it was fun. not as much fun as when we got to start on the deck, but close. at this point in the week, i discovered that i have a full on addiction to milo's famous sweet tea, and begin drinking nalgene bottles full of it. the people at the pig are starting to look sideways at me when i come in to buy things...
the banjo king and stinky j get back from town, and are followed by the lumber truck, bearing the makings of a 16x16 deck of treated pine. yella wood really is wonderful. what wasn't wonderful was that the lumber truck almost go stuck and tore up a little of the yard. oops. the banjo king and stinky j set about stringing plumb lines, the kids and i start digging holes for posts, and the concrete mixing commences. like i said, 640 pounds of concrete is a lot of concrete. and since you're not supposed to breathe the dust, or get any on your skin, i mixed while the banjo king and stinky j set the posts. i called my pops at pound 240, just to tell him what i was doing. he was highly amused. thank God the family trade is being kept up, huh?
i have this to say about mixing concrete-- God bless the person who invented the mixer. making mud in a wheel barrow with a hoe is one of the single most painful experiences of my adult life. it's on the top ten list, at least. top twenty. it was bad. but we got the posts set with little or no drama, and the miracle of all miracles was that we got them all level and plumb with each other. God has a plan. dinner was wonderful. i don't remember what we had, but we all ate a lot of it.
13th--wednesday--more deck building, more floor joisting. more rain. when i woke up, i thought my entire chest was going to explode. it was a long morning. the natives are getting restless. i have the uncontrollable urge to get in the car and leave them behind. after all, the jack daniels' distillery is only 75 miles away...they'd never know i was gone... i decide to stay. that was stupid.
14th--thursday--decking, flooring, raining. one of the precious angels decides to pierce his ears. and he invites a girl into his room to help. 9 kinds of holy hell ensue. there is yelling. there are calls home. in the final analysis, i'm just glad everyone's clothes stayed on.
15th-- friday-- deck is finished by 1pm. floor joists are in by 4pm. we go to the pool. we take showers. at least i think i took a shower. the only shower i know for sure i have taken in the last week is the one i took yesterday afternoon when i got home...eww gross. we tell the kids we are proud of them, because we are. fr. doug fixes us a big hamburger and hot dog dinner, complete with a chocolate sheet cake decorated with yellow roses. i cry a little bit. i also have to go back to the pig (that's piggly wiggly, for those of you who are southern-impaired) to buy bread for lunch on saturday. i'm also out of tea. again. we terrify the children with stories of how they could fall out of the boat an die on saturday's boat trip, especially if they don't pay attention to orientation. they kind of believe us.
16th-- saturday-- we go rafting on the ocoee river. it is beautiful. i buy a fun new shirt and two stickers. and because one of my sweet angels insists that he should be allowed to wear girls' work out shorts to raft in, i also get to buy some swim trunks. seriously, if those things had gotten wet, we would know more about this sweet angel than anyone other than God should know. the rafting part was fun. and cold. and two of my kids fell out of my boat and scared me real bad. but all was well. he who must be gratutitiously footnoted and occasionally obeyed came up to raft with us. he too was impressed by how badly the children smelled. there was almost some dry heaving. we go home. we have compline one last time. i remind the kids for the last time, as i have done every night of our trip, that there is a mighty, mighty God who loves them very, very much. i don't get to go to sleep until almost two for a wide variety of reasons, but mostly because two of the girl angels are gunning for two of the boy angels, and since i'd made it for 11 days without anyone getting knocked up, i was kind of invested in maintaining my track record. they finally went to sleep. so did i.
17th-- sunday. i wake up and feel like i've had the ever-living crap kicked out of me, and then had my head wrapped in cotton. i can't wait to get in the car and start driving. yay. we make it to texarkana. i am very greatful. somewhere between murfreesboro and nashville, the kids start a mooning war between the vans. pretty soon my car starts to smell like unwashed ass, and i feel the need to vomit, call my mother, and throw a fit. i ingnore the need. i focus on getting to memphis and seeing graceland. we didn't tour it. we looked at it. kind of like when the griswold's go to the grand canyon. it was great. it took about 5 minutes. shortly after memphis, i start really abusing caffeine like its my job. little rock never looked so good. we finally made it to texarkana, and i don't think i've ever been happier to cross the texas state line in all my life. by this time, i am so tired that the thought of trying to make it to dallas is enough to make me want to die. stinky j and the little angels cut me some slack, and we check into the skankiest ramada this side of atlantic city. we sleep.
18th--monday--we finally get home at about 4 pm. i turn in cars, praise Jesus that we got home, and go housesit at the home of the four horsemen, who are out of town with their parents. they are having tile put in, and i'm just there to open doors and empty litter boxes. i get some rudy's barbeque, and then i sleep for 12 straight hours.
and that's the whole story. i'm a little sad that it's over. i'm a little sad that this was my last time to be a shot-caller on one of these trips. but life is good. its scary, its messy, its confusing, but its real and mine. thanks be to God.
mil besos--rmg
** ... about the spelling errors: i'll fix them tomorrow. i promise.
6th-- we left a-tex, drove to little rock. it was a long ride. on the way there, i got a big fat speeding ticket in georgetown. i now hate suburbs with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. i paid it today. my bank account is now $181 dollars lighter. damn ticket quotas.
7th-- we wake up, take the little angels to waffle house in little rock, and i wonder out loud if president clinton ever ate at this one. in response to the bombings in london, the gas prices shoot up 10 cents a gallon while we're inside. as a side note, waffle house doesn't take credit cards or checks. but they do have an atm. shady, very shady. full of grease and sass, we took off for the cumberland plateau and a weeks' worth of work and dirty laundry. we were very excited. we arrived in sewanee at about 5pm, got unpacked, set up the kitchen, and took the kids to eat at a place in town called shenanigans. the reuben, according to smelly j (my dear friend from waco, who was another youth minister on the trip), was superlative. the banjo king (one of my nearest and dearest from college, who's married to the fabulous laura (i missed you on this trip like crazy, lady)) and i both agreed that we had one of the smelliest groups of kids we'd ever personally smelled on this trip. note that the banjo king and i can both be very smelly kids as well. note also that we went through four bottles of fabreeze, one of which was antibacterial fabreeze, in an effort to make our stinkers smell better. the fact that we changed altitude rapidly didn't help the stink, either.
8th--friday. we sleep in, thank the baby Jesus. we play the first of many rounds of ultimate frisbee. stinky j and i go into "town" and buy about 30 pounds of lunch meat, 6 gallons of milk, a watermelon that never even got cut, cheese, cream cheese, margarine, etc. we also bought a kick ball emblazoned with the justice league, and got a really cool batman mask. stinky j suggested that we make eggs erroneous for breakfast one morning. i laughed so hard for so long that i was sore the next day. i think the check out lady thought i was high. good times.
9th--saturday. the other group from houston shows up and messes with our group dynamic a little bit. by sunday, after a small fit or two, everything is ironed out. by this time, its become painfully clear that some of these kids don't want to be on mission trip. seems they read "swim all day and chase boobs" on the top of the brochure instead of "work hard and love jesus". what a bunch of morons. no, seriously. i think my tubes may have psychosomatically tied themselves at one point. we also go to pond swim this day-- i was very happy. i also really needed a shower after that swim, which i didn't get until the next day, for a variety of reasons i'll be kind enough to leave out.
10th--sunday. stinky j and another sponsor have to go to the er because they have pus in the back of their throats. i am not happy. the rest of us go to church, and i skip the sermon to have some quiet time. i make it back for the creed, because i have impeccable timing. i see my dear caro's mama at church, and mrs. bet gives me the best hug i've had in days. i feel much better about "things". we have our orientation that afternoon with the habitat guy. the banjo king and i are immediately underwhelmed and i begin to get what we call "worried and upset" because he doesn't have a) enough work for all 36 of us and b) a clue as to what he should do with us if it rains. which brings me to my next point-- hurricane freaking dennis. what a pain in my booty. seriously. mostly because it cut out one work site altogether, because we were supposed to be doing yard work. in a yard full of red clay. not a chance in hell, people.
11th-- monday. we have a wonderful breakfast with the lovely kitchen ladies at st. mary's (who cook big gigantic eggy grandma breakfasts, and make you take bacon AND sausage) and put some lipstick on the pig that was our mission trip. we got rained out of our worksites, and instead of farting around all day and napping, we worked at st. mary's, much to the surprise and delight of fr. doug, the director, and mr. jerry, the groundskeeper (who used to be a nuclear engineer in Chattanooga...). we picked up the limbs from the wind storm the night before. we weeded out the labyrinth. we dug the iris bulbs out of one bed, collected them all in a bag, and replanted the bed with marigolds. we painted one of the dorm rooms. and before the week was over, we built a deck on the edge of a bluff behind the dining room. monday night, we slept like rocks.
12th--tuesday. we eat more. alot more. part of the work crew got to go to the housing site. everyone else kept working at st. mary's, which is how things would roll for the rest of the week. he who must be obeyed and occasionally footnoted was called in to trouble shoot for us, and gave us the go ahead to buy the wood for the deck. fr. doug was so happy and surprised that he cried a little. he loved us by the end of the week. so the banjo king and stinky j drove off to winchester to buy lumber for the deck. and they bough concrete. 640 pounds of it. that's a lot of concrete. i stayed back at the ranch with my little angels. we dug huge boulders out of the ground with pick axes and shovels. it was fun. not as much fun as when we got to start on the deck, but close. at this point in the week, i discovered that i have a full on addiction to milo's famous sweet tea, and begin drinking nalgene bottles full of it. the people at the pig are starting to look sideways at me when i come in to buy things...
the banjo king and stinky j get back from town, and are followed by the lumber truck, bearing the makings of a 16x16 deck of treated pine. yella wood really is wonderful. what wasn't wonderful was that the lumber truck almost go stuck and tore up a little of the yard. oops. the banjo king and stinky j set about stringing plumb lines, the kids and i start digging holes for posts, and the concrete mixing commences. like i said, 640 pounds of concrete is a lot of concrete. and since you're not supposed to breathe the dust, or get any on your skin, i mixed while the banjo king and stinky j set the posts. i called my pops at pound 240, just to tell him what i was doing. he was highly amused. thank God the family trade is being kept up, huh?
i have this to say about mixing concrete-- God bless the person who invented the mixer. making mud in a wheel barrow with a hoe is one of the single most painful experiences of my adult life. it's on the top ten list, at least. top twenty. it was bad. but we got the posts set with little or no drama, and the miracle of all miracles was that we got them all level and plumb with each other. God has a plan. dinner was wonderful. i don't remember what we had, but we all ate a lot of it.
13th--wednesday--more deck building, more floor joisting. more rain. when i woke up, i thought my entire chest was going to explode. it was a long morning. the natives are getting restless. i have the uncontrollable urge to get in the car and leave them behind. after all, the jack daniels' distillery is only 75 miles away...they'd never know i was gone... i decide to stay. that was stupid.
14th--thursday--decking, flooring, raining. one of the precious angels decides to pierce his ears. and he invites a girl into his room to help. 9 kinds of holy hell ensue. there is yelling. there are calls home. in the final analysis, i'm just glad everyone's clothes stayed on.
15th-- friday-- deck is finished by 1pm. floor joists are in by 4pm. we go to the pool. we take showers. at least i think i took a shower. the only shower i know for sure i have taken in the last week is the one i took yesterday afternoon when i got home...eww gross. we tell the kids we are proud of them, because we are. fr. doug fixes us a big hamburger and hot dog dinner, complete with a chocolate sheet cake decorated with yellow roses. i cry a little bit. i also have to go back to the pig (that's piggly wiggly, for those of you who are southern-impaired) to buy bread for lunch on saturday. i'm also out of tea. again. we terrify the children with stories of how they could fall out of the boat an die on saturday's boat trip, especially if they don't pay attention to orientation. they kind of believe us.
16th-- saturday-- we go rafting on the ocoee river. it is beautiful. i buy a fun new shirt and two stickers. and because one of my sweet angels insists that he should be allowed to wear girls' work out shorts to raft in, i also get to buy some swim trunks. seriously, if those things had gotten wet, we would know more about this sweet angel than anyone other than God should know. the rafting part was fun. and cold. and two of my kids fell out of my boat and scared me real bad. but all was well. he who must be gratutitiously footnoted and occasionally obeyed came up to raft with us. he too was impressed by how badly the children smelled. there was almost some dry heaving. we go home. we have compline one last time. i remind the kids for the last time, as i have done every night of our trip, that there is a mighty, mighty God who loves them very, very much. i don't get to go to sleep until almost two for a wide variety of reasons, but mostly because two of the girl angels are gunning for two of the boy angels, and since i'd made it for 11 days without anyone getting knocked up, i was kind of invested in maintaining my track record. they finally went to sleep. so did i.
17th-- sunday. i wake up and feel like i've had the ever-living crap kicked out of me, and then had my head wrapped in cotton. i can't wait to get in the car and start driving. yay. we make it to texarkana. i am very greatful. somewhere between murfreesboro and nashville, the kids start a mooning war between the vans. pretty soon my car starts to smell like unwashed ass, and i feel the need to vomit, call my mother, and throw a fit. i ingnore the need. i focus on getting to memphis and seeing graceland. we didn't tour it. we looked at it. kind of like when the griswold's go to the grand canyon. it was great. it took about 5 minutes. shortly after memphis, i start really abusing caffeine like its my job. little rock never looked so good. we finally made it to texarkana, and i don't think i've ever been happier to cross the texas state line in all my life. by this time, i am so tired that the thought of trying to make it to dallas is enough to make me want to die. stinky j and the little angels cut me some slack, and we check into the skankiest ramada this side of atlantic city. we sleep.
18th--monday--we finally get home at about 4 pm. i turn in cars, praise Jesus that we got home, and go housesit at the home of the four horsemen, who are out of town with their parents. they are having tile put in, and i'm just there to open doors and empty litter boxes. i get some rudy's barbeque, and then i sleep for 12 straight hours.
and that's the whole story. i'm a little sad that it's over. i'm a little sad that this was my last time to be a shot-caller on one of these trips. but life is good. its scary, its messy, its confusing, but its real and mine. thanks be to God.
mil besos--rmg
** ... about the spelling errors: i'll fix them tomorrow. i promise.
18 July 2005
wow
holy crap. thank God i'm home. what was i thinking taking a 12 day trip two weeks before i quit my job? sweet lord.
speaking of job and life...
here's the plan, as of now...
1. dump the apartment. know anyone who needs a 1 bedroom in central/north austin (like around highland mall) for $540 a month? lemme know...
2. trade into a smaller car
3. move in with mom and live rent free
4. write my book, take road trips to get pictures for my book
5. finally get to be a waitress because i've always wanted to do that and i will need to make some freaking money to pay for car/film/bills at momma's house.
6. come see some of you freaks and make you take me out to fun places with good material for my book
love to you all. i'm off to take a snooze for about 18 hours.
mil besos--rmg
speaking of job and life...
here's the plan, as of now...
1. dump the apartment. know anyone who needs a 1 bedroom in central/north austin (like around highland mall) for $540 a month? lemme know...
2. trade into a smaller car
3. move in with mom and live rent free
4. write my book, take road trips to get pictures for my book
5. finally get to be a waitress because i've always wanted to do that and i will need to make some freaking money to pay for car/film/bills at momma's house.
6. come see some of you freaks and make you take me out to fun places with good material for my book
love to you all. i'm off to take a snooze for about 18 hours.
mil besos--rmg
01 July 2005
72 hour break
fits have been thrown. hot dogs have been eaten and simultaneously trampled into commercial grade blue carpet. craft projects made from aluminum pie pans and beans have either been taken home or thrown out. the slip-n-slide bounce house has been inflated, played upon (prolly peed upon,too, if the facts were truly known), and deflated. i have been squirted with the water guns of several very small people. in a scene that could rival parts of "lord of the flies", i was trapped in a mob of very small people with unopened popsicles and no scissors in sight-- i had to use my teeth. it got scary, fast. and i think may have the early stages of pink eye. in short, vacation bible school is over. praise the baby jesus.
although i have to say this: for every bizarre thing the "precious children" did, they also did amazing things. one of the little girls at camp this week has cerebral palsy. she is mostly in a wheel chair, but she's walking better every day. she speaks and laughs, if you are willing to listen and encourage her. this little sweet pea walked with her peers this week. she even did the hokey-pokey during song time. and when it came time to sing my two favorite songs-- "this little light of mine" and "he's got the whole world in his hands", you can bet that little cherub was singing at the top of her lungs and doing all the hand motions. it was beautiful. and as much as my body is screaming for mercy, for that 10 minute period, watching that little girl be a little girl and singing along with her friends, and being accepted and loved, both in spite of and because of her differences, i wouldn't have traded a week of pampering in the bahamas. it was one of the single-most incredible and humbling experiences of my life.
i'm at momma's house. she told me to come home so she could feed me and do my laundry before i have to take a deep breath before the final plunge. i adore this woman. even though she's doing adkin's, she let my grammy make my favorite pasta salad, and didn't complain while i ate it like a big pig, even though she had to have a plain green salad with lots of meat on it. yay, mommy.
i still owe you people the story of the 30 foot whale (its still a doozie and most definitely deserves to be told--it might even reach classic anecdote status at some point)d, but i think that may have to wait until i have processed the rest of vacation bible school and done a little more leg work for my mission trip that leaves on wednesday. i know, i know, i lead a life ruled by madness...but also by love...and that is a good thing, even on tired days.
all is well.
mil besos--rmg
although i have to say this: for every bizarre thing the "precious children" did, they also did amazing things. one of the little girls at camp this week has cerebral palsy. she is mostly in a wheel chair, but she's walking better every day. she speaks and laughs, if you are willing to listen and encourage her. this little sweet pea walked with her peers this week. she even did the hokey-pokey during song time. and when it came time to sing my two favorite songs-- "this little light of mine" and "he's got the whole world in his hands", you can bet that little cherub was singing at the top of her lungs and doing all the hand motions. it was beautiful. and as much as my body is screaming for mercy, for that 10 minute period, watching that little girl be a little girl and singing along with her friends, and being accepted and loved, both in spite of and because of her differences, i wouldn't have traded a week of pampering in the bahamas. it was one of the single-most incredible and humbling experiences of my life.
i'm at momma's house. she told me to come home so she could feed me and do my laundry before i have to take a deep breath before the final plunge. i adore this woman. even though she's doing adkin's, she let my grammy make my favorite pasta salad, and didn't complain while i ate it like a big pig, even though she had to have a plain green salad with lots of meat on it. yay, mommy.
i still owe you people the story of the 30 foot whale (its still a doozie and most definitely deserves to be told--it might even reach classic anecdote status at some point)d, but i think that may have to wait until i have processed the rest of vacation bible school and done a little more leg work for my mission trip that leaves on wednesday. i know, i know, i lead a life ruled by madness...but also by love...and that is a good thing, even on tired days.
all is well.
mil besos--rmg
27 June 2005
bare edge of sanity
hola, friends and neighbors. today is the first day of vacation bible school, after a week of junior high sleep-away camp, after a week of packing and unpacking, after a weekend of family reunion, preceded by a week of vacation, preceded by a weekend of debauchery with esteban, and i am very, very tired. after taking what i am sure is the legal limit for birth control (a week at camp allen with 93 junior high kids), i feel much better about my station in life. two months ago, i was being all sad and pouty about children i might never have. today, i feel pretty good about not having kids. i'll post more later. right now, i need some lunch and caffiene. lord, have mercy...
i have no sheets on my bed, and i'm down to my last two pair of clean undies. i wish i could go home and do laundry, but it's looking like i may have to visit the nice asian ladies down south at the laundry with clean and fold service. actually, i wish they had pick-up service, because at this point, i'm too freaking shredded to contemplate driving the 4.5 miles to the laundry, and my clothes and soap are already in the car. my mom offered to do my laundry and feed me, but i had to come straight home from camp to do freaking vbs stuff. did i mention that i HATE vbs? it's of the freaking devil, i swear. it's like the more i have to do this summer, the more i'm positive i made the right decision to leave. i get happier and happier doing all my last things, because i'm not having to quietly figure out how to do things better, etc. i'm just finally going to be done. thank G-d. and even though i'm still not gainfully employed as of july 31st (which is starting to make my heart beat fast if i think about it too much...), i will be glad to be doing something else, even if it's working at starbucks or blockbuster, slaving for the freaking establishment and running stupid yuppie's platinum cards for meaningless shit. everything is going to be ok.
i have a story to tell you about a 30 foot whale. it's a doozie.
mil besos-r
i have no sheets on my bed, and i'm down to my last two pair of clean undies. i wish i could go home and do laundry, but it's looking like i may have to visit the nice asian ladies down south at the laundry with clean and fold service. actually, i wish they had pick-up service, because at this point, i'm too freaking shredded to contemplate driving the 4.5 miles to the laundry, and my clothes and soap are already in the car. my mom offered to do my laundry and feed me, but i had to come straight home from camp to do freaking vbs stuff. did i mention that i HATE vbs? it's of the freaking devil, i swear. it's like the more i have to do this summer, the more i'm positive i made the right decision to leave. i get happier and happier doing all my last things, because i'm not having to quietly figure out how to do things better, etc. i'm just finally going to be done. thank G-d. and even though i'm still not gainfully employed as of july 31st (which is starting to make my heart beat fast if i think about it too much...), i will be glad to be doing something else, even if it's working at starbucks or blockbuster, slaving for the freaking establishment and running stupid yuppie's platinum cards for meaningless shit. everything is going to be ok.
i have a story to tell you about a 30 foot whale. it's a doozie.
mil besos-r
15 June 2005
back in the saddle
work work work. pack pack pack. clean clean clean. blah blah blah. when our children's minister left, she didn't pack up her office. my intern, hereafter known as miss priss, and i are busy cleaning up that mess today. why anyone would buy rolls of st. patrick's tinsel is beyond me. needless to say, we've already filled up an entire 50 gallon garbage bag.
this clean up is worse than the time esteban and i cleaned my room in high school and found $47 in change under my bed, along with a dust bunny that might have eaten jimmy hoffa.
back to the salt mine. tomorrow, if we're done, i'll post up some stuff about the family reunion last weekend. all i can say is that 40 relatives plus a million hot dogs equals a good time.
mil besos--r
this clean up is worse than the time esteban and i cleaned my room in high school and found $47 in change under my bed, along with a dust bunny that might have eaten jimmy hoffa.
back to the salt mine. tomorrow, if we're done, i'll post up some stuff about the family reunion last weekend. all i can say is that 40 relatives plus a million hot dogs equals a good time.
mil besos--r
14 June 2005
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