One Day Off

Yesterday, Memorial Day, was one of those RARE days - the FIRST in fact - when BOTH Beau and I had absolutely no job to go to at all. And yet, I was astonished when Beau said, "This is the first time I've had an entire day off since I started at Wally World." I knew we both worked nearly every day, but I didn't know he had never had even a single day off from all jobs since then.

It was a VERY important to me that we get out of Missoula and do something nature-related. The whole big deal about Montana is supposed to be its natural beauty, and when Beau started fantasizing about moving back to the United States from New Zealand, it was his peaceful, happy memories deep within the forests, rivers, and mountains of western Montana that lured him back. I knew, that both of us, more so for him, we had to get out of the city that had been demoralizing us for so long and DO something active. I wanted to camp for one night, but our schedules wouldn't even allow that (we both worked until 11pm the previous night), so it was going to be a day trip. I asked around, did my internet research, and finally came up with Holland Lake. A place about an hour, hour and a half away (no sweat for us) that featured a forest full of trails, a giant picturesque lake (with appropriately snow-covered majestic mountains in the background), and...a waterfall! Who isn't a fan of waterfalls?

Honestly, I'm not a big fan of hiking. I'm not a fan of anything that makes me carry heavy equipment like a gold miner's pack mule, breathe like I'm having an asthma attack, or makes me a sweaty mess (I'm not a "glistener," I'm a SWEAT-ER, a red-faced one), for no reason than just to do it. If there is an intended goal, like a waterfall, then I am a bit more motivated. Hiking has always struck me as one of those things that you're supposed to say you really love doing. I just don't.

But, this time, I WAS motivated and excited. Yet on Monday morning, it almost didn't happen. Beau had asked me about three times when I wanted to leave, and I had always answered, "Well, as soon as we get up, but pretty early" (since my days of sleeping in until noon are long behind me). And though Beau no longer gets up at 5am like clockwork each morning (thank god), he still is up bright and early almost every day. Well, I finally crawled out of bed a little after 8am, tried to get him up, was not successful (as mentioned, we had both worked late the previous night), and went and took a shower. Finally, Beau crawled out of bed. He turned on the TV, he lazily put lotion on, he had some Lucky Charms, HE MADE A POT OF COFFEE. I think the sound of the percolator is what set me off. Like, he couldn't buy a frickin cup of coffee on the way? (which I had figured he'd do anyway). I, already being dressed and ready to go, was not entirely pleased by this languid ritual. I tried to "motivate" him to hurry up, but Beau has never appreciated my *ahem* gentle nudging.

I felt like this ONE day was weeks in the making (and waiting), and felt it ticking away... So therefore, we argued.

Well, I won't go into the details of that, but we did get out the door, finally. Like an hour later.

And the mini road trip was on. I love road tripping with Beau. He drives, I read aloud, we both watch scenery. I often comment that our relationship was built on road trips, since the first SEVERAL times we were together, we spent MUCH of that time driving from one place to another. And then in NZ it continued in even greater force driving from our isolated village to other cities and during our mega north to south, two week road trip.
The drive was nice, as immediately the countryside got more rugged and the mountains taller. As we got closer to Holland Lake, we frequently spotted mule and whitetail deer on the sides of the road. Then we reached the parking lot where all the trails started, got my backpack ready (water, extra clothes, and of course, chocolate), and started the hike.

It wasn't bad, not at all. The various ascents weren't too challenging and the forest was lovely, not to mention that trail skirted around the edge of the lake the whole time. A couple of points had some breaks in the foliage to really see the vastness of the lake with the mountains as backdrop. Along the way we only passed a few people, which was nice, and as usual, EVERYONE has a dog (usually a Lab or Golden Retriever) with them. One already heavily-laden couple even had their own two dogs carrying dual-fanny packs of who knows what. There was even one group that had a baby in a backpack and a small three-year old walking along. Shit, if a three year-old can do it...
We walked in single file, sometimes Beau in front, sometimes me. We talked about different stuff along the way. I'm a fast walker who stops a lot and Beau's a slow walker who likes to soak it all in. It kind of evens out.
As with most falls, you hear them and sometimes even feel them, before you see them. That always kind of lends to the excitement. It's always one of those situations where you round a bend and POW - there they are in all their drama. And there it was! Lovely mid-sized waterfall.We climbed up on some rocks and sat down to rest and enjoy the view. Almost immediately, what looked to be very large chipmunks, ("It's a ground squirrel," Beau informed me), emerged from the various rock crevices and came toward us with surprising boldness. It was clear from their plumpness and audacity that they'd been fed many times before. So, we dug out the only thing we had, chocolate. "Will chocolate hurt them?" (You always hear horror stories about what it does to dogs). "I don't know," said Beau. So, not letting that stop us, we broke off very small pieces ("Dark chocolate is probably healthier anyway," I said as I chose it) and gave them each one. You'd think we had given them crack. Happy little squirrels!
I gave a very uneasy "Arrrrr" out when one climbed purposefully up on my thigh, but thankfully, they scare just as easily as they approach, and my nervous vocals sent it darting away in fright.

Then there was a very interesting moment when the little birds in the trees surrounding us suddenly gave out these sharp chirps. The squirrels, knowing exactly that "sharp chirp" = "danger danger" all immediately dove for cover, and in a split second, we went from a gaggle of gregarious company, to being totally alone on the rocks.
"Look," pointed Beau and in the distance, soaring in broad circles, was a bald eagle (not pictured above). "Ooooh" was my thoughtful reply. Pretty amazing to see nature at work like that. I have now heard the small bird equivalent of "Holy shit! It's an eagle! Run!"We hung out there a bit more, playing with the squirrels, who eventually re-emerged, and we continued to stare at the falls. Of course, I took 10,000 photos until my memory card filled. And finally, as a couple kids showed up, fists full of crackers for the squirrels, we got up, and made our way back down. I really enjoyed the walk. It was a bit of a brisker pace, as it always is on the way back from these things, and we talked and talked (I did a bit more of the yapping), talking about our families and our futures and whatever else came up.

I think we really really needed this little jaunt, and I am grateful for it. And seeing the Pirates of the Caribbean (hmm, it was okay), and chomping down the ribeye steak (mmmm steak), I ordered at Outback Steakhouse back in town helped make the day even better.

As for today, oh well, back to work for the both of us. And -ooh ow ooh- seems I'm a little tender.

Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt - Part II

I got pulled over. AGAIN!

Let me say one more time, in my 19 years of driving, I've been pulled over a grand total of THREE times (and as previously mentioned, all during cross country, Interstate road trips). I've lived in Missoula five months and been pulled over TWICE! (and Beau once). There's some sort of mathematical screwed-upness here, or in the past five months I've become the worst driver ever, or maybe, there's just a ton of cops here. I read something funny in the high school newspaper of a town about an hour north of here (a place quite a bit smaller than Missoula). They were interviewing the foreign exchange students, and a kid from GERMANY said, "It's nice here, but there's a lot more police than in Germany!"

Than Germany!

And when I was in Germany about 11 years ago, I remember lots of cops -- on the subway, in the train station, in McDonald's. Maybe that kid lived on a farm, I don't know. But I still found the statement humorous.

ANYWAY, it was my fault. I was doing something wrong. Doesn't mean I won't defend myself, but I was. It's a bad habit I have picked up since moving to Missoula. You see, I don't know if Missoula ever had any urban and regional planners at the helm, but the tightness of the city and the virus-like growth has made traffic a bit of an ongoing problem. Now after Bangkok, NO city seems to have bad traffic to me, so I don't find it too big of a deal. But the crowded roads do lead to some bad habits....

This is the deal: Normally when I want to turn left at an intersection, I wait until that break in the paint and I enter the left-hand turning lane. Quickly, both Beau and I noticed that if you do wait until that point, just fucking forget it. Behind you, there will be a loooooong line of cars already madly racing up the left lane toward you. They will enter the left lane as soon as possible, despite the fact that that far back the left lane is there to turn into local businesses, a side street, etc. and NOT for getting ready to turn at the distant intersection. If you try to enter the left lane at the "proper" point, you will be smashed from behind. Neither Beau nor I have experienced this habit in any other city we've lived in. It has led to many frustrating moments of my either having to pass up the intersection I wanted to turn left in since I can't get in the turning lane, or do that thing where you halt in center lane with your left blinker on until someone had enough heart to let you in (all the while pissing off the people behind you wanting to continue on straight).

So, I did the wrong thing and adopted this bad habit. As soon as I think is "appropriate," I enter the left turning lane. I'm always a little wary when I do this, since there's always a good chance that no matter how early I get into the lane, some nutjob is already entering it behind me. I also make sure to put that left signal on as soon as possible so everyone knows my intentions. Well, the cop sure did.

Last night it was raining, and I was late late late for Shop-n-Smile. I wasn't driving fast, since rain makes me too nervous to be stupid, but I was intent on getting to work. Unfortunately, Shop-n-Smile sits on the busiest road in Missoula, and I had turned onto it and was driving happily along to work. Then I had to stop in the center lane, quite a distance from the intersection, but "at it" nonetheless. As I was sitting there, I saw the green turn signal twinkle on. Now, this is the very green turn arrow that takes me right into the Shop-n-Smile parking lot, so this was good. The bad thing was that I was a bit far back from the light, and would have to ride the left turning lane for a bit before reaching it. There was a grocery store to the left for this part of the left lane. Well, I'd seen it done so many times before, I might as well go ahead and do it, I was late as it was. I put on my blinker, looked behind me, and eased into the left lane. I got about 50 feet when he pulled out in back of me (he had been just a few cars up), lights merrily blazing away.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

You know, when you see those dreadful lights, you have those several seconds where you run through all these emotions. "What, wait? Is that? No! Fuck. Wait, is that for me? Maybe it's for another guy. Wait..really? Me? ME!?!?" I literally pointed to myself in the rearview mirror while looking at him.

Ohhhh yeah, it was me alright.

Then for the next several humiliating minutes I had to sit, at the FRONT, of the left hand turn lane waiting for it to change again so he could pull me over, him behind me, with the lights flashing, then going off, then flashing again. I think he did that just to taunt me, because every time he turned them off, I thought, "Oh, maybe he's not really going to get me." Then they'd come back on again, and I'd go, "Yeah, right."

So, then, just as I originally planned, sans Mr. Cop Face, I turned into the Shop-n-Smile lot, making sure to head for the side of the building so my co-workers couldn't share in my joy. With the rain coming down, I lowered my window and got the traditional, "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

I stuttered and fumbled. I pretty much knew I shouldn't have been doing that, and yet, I wasn't sure it was a breaking the law-type offense. It was. Was my Shop-n-Smile shirt going to save me this time? Damn, I'd forgotten to put the name tag on.

The police officer then gave me a lecture about how I shouldn't do that, since if someone was trying to turn into the grocery store I'd have hit them. He said this habit had become really bad in Missoula and that there had been lots of car crashes as a result, particularly at that intersection. *guilt*

And as a humorous sidenote: he told me that THREE other cars had attempted to do the same thing I did, but they (weren't as much as a blind dumbass as I and) saw the cop, and then suddenly felt the intense need to make a left turn RIGHT there into the grocery store (the cop knew they were full of shit but couldn't do much since they'd stopped mid-breaking-of-law).

Unlike me.

I apologized, and gave him my info. I told him basically what I told you about how I'd noticed this in Missoula and had basically picked up the habit. He agreed again that it was practiced by all. AND WRONG.

He then did that thing where they go back to their car and pretend to be looking up your arrest record, but really, they're trying not to burst out laughing as you pee in your pants, and whisper, "oh god oh god oh god" under your breath. I quickly texted Beau, "Just got pulled over" and waited. Since the last time I got pulled over, I have gotten my driver's license, registration, Montana license plates, car insurance in our names, replaced the muffler, and fixed the headlight. Shouldn't I get credit for that, a la Paris Hilton getting "good behavior" points for simply showing up to court?

He came up to my window and said, "I'm gonna let you off with a written warning this time."

"What? Really? PRAISE JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Okay, that Jesus part was just in my head. The rest just involved a lot of bowing and scraping.

He ended our conversation with a "Have fun at work" and was off. And I didn't pee my pants.

Well okay, maybe just a little.

Waiting to Exhale

I never realized what an impact one of my bosses had on me until it was announced he wouldn't be in today. I suddenly find myself feeling remarkably more relaxed and at ease, despite the fact that I'm the lucky one, because where I sit is separated from everyone else, so I don't get the grief that they do. He's one of those bosses that make you feel like you have to sit up a bit straighter in your chair when he's around and be careful you don't do or say anything "inappropriate" (like me stuffing a doughnut in my face).

For the most part, I've thought that he hasn't really affected me as much as he has the others, both because of the seclusion of my desk and because I don't care as much (being a temp keeps you somewhat emotionally detached...somewhat). I've also been lucky that he hasn't blown up at me yet. One guy even mentioned, "Man, I've been surprised he hasn't gone after you yet. I keep hoping he won't." Naturally, I don't typically do anything that would warrant any kind of "blowing up" in the workplace, but the kind of bosses who do that, aren't always entirely predictable. I've suffered several sarcastic, condescending remarks which were fairly uncalled for (usually having to do with him being unintelligible), but those don't bug me much considering the circumstances.

So, when it was announced he wouldn't be in today, I felt like a tight balloon that had just deflated a little. Ahhh. It surprised and slightly disappointed me at how strong the relief was. But oh well, might as well enjoy it.

I know I've been pretty hush hush about my current long-term temp day job, but that's mostly to save my own butt. And because I do like working at this institution and would hate for some ridiculous person to take my words and make a bigger deal out of them than they truly are. I was talking to April (hi April!), a childhood friend of mine on the phone the other night and I told her about how in the past year or so, I've noticed an upsurge in people "finding" my blog and responding (typically through the email account I provide). Most of it is positive, but sometimes someone gets offended if I didn't say something swimmingly spectacular about something they hold dear. And you know how the internet is - people can be vicious, and show a side you don't typically see when confronted face to face. Mean people suck! I've also had very interesting emails, usually from people who don't identify themselves, who either have additional, intriguing information after reading one of my blogs, or have followed up on something I've written. It's both flattering and a bit startling. The world is a big, fantastic, kinda scary, place.

So, today should be a good day, since I don't work at Shop-n-Smile tonight (Praise God!), and Scary Man won't be here. (Enter doughnut!). The only downside is that I never have enough to do (*ahem* hence the near daily-blog). I will be given a project to do, will do it and hand it back, and after getting one of those ,"Man, that was fast," comments, will wait while someone scrambles to give me something else. It's a weird line you walk as a temp. Do something too fast and too efficiently, then you become this annoying person that they have to keep "finding work" for. Do it too slowly, and everyone hates you for being a drag on the office and a waste of cash. So, although I do feel guilty for blogging, emailing, and taking care of personal finances and "stuff" during the day, I don't know what else to do besides sit here and look cute, and well, come on, I already do that!

Things should get better when the other boss (the female one) gets back and gives me one of her cool, "thinking" projects to do (as opposed to something that involves a copy machine or three-hole punch). That always makes me feel like I'm really earning my keep, and they tend to be interesting to boot.

Until then, blog on sister, blog on!

One Dish At A Time, Sweet Jesus

I've gotten so used to blogging on a near-daily basis, that when I don't approach my computer with some story or event, I feel disappointed. I guess all this 2-job (3 for Beau) constantly-working thing has made me un-bloggable since the quirky experiences have dried up from my life. Sure, I could talk about the ogre in the office at my day job or the unendingly migraine-inducing teenagers at Shop-n-Smile, but nothing can top the Fart story I told awhile back, alas. You could say a "true" writer would find something to write about the most minute details of life. *stares at stack of papers on desk* Oh well.

I IM'd with a friend from the mud last night, and after it was over realized I had nothing good to say about Beau's life, my life, or our life. This then got me depressed. I try to keep the "my life sucks" blogs to a minimum, but then, I'm running out of blog fodder, so some of it will have to ooze out here and there.

Good news: The constant working has put money into our bank accounts. Since I've been a lifetime paycheck to paycheck girl (thank you, student loans!), I feel suddenly flush. Beau feels the opposite, since he's used to having a bit more in the bank, "just in case." And, since shopping gives me an almost crack-addict pleasure nowadays, I have been spastically shopping while simultaneously working at Shop-n-Smile. The thing is, I work in Domestics and Housewares, and since these are the very items we lacked when we moved here (furniture, towels, sheets, kitchenware, utensils, pots and pans, dishes, etc.), every time I work, I basically shop. As I troll around with my cart, here and there I place something in the cart to be purchased later.

My method is to do things in pieces. For example, we have one very nice dish set at our store. Not the icky Corelle stuff, but good quality, nice-looking stuff, which is something I do like about our store. We'll have the cheapie, crappie towels when you just need a 2-dollar towel, but we also have the $15, so-soft-you-wanna-sink-into-it-and-die towels as well, and everything in between. So, since I am determined to finally, for the first time in my life, NOT stock my home with Goodwill furniture and mismatched, handed down plates, I am trying to get some decent, matching stuff. Well, as decent as is reasonable, and even the top of the line Shop-n-Smile stuff isn't that expensive. So, I wait 'til it goes on sale (which is frequently), and then, on a Monday shift, I'll buy a plate. Just one. And a cloth napkin. And maybe a vegetable peeler.

I'm also determined to make a home. When I was a freshman in undergrad, I was the only one with the flowered comforter, posters and pictures on the wall, and other "decorations." I noticed that my friends started to gather in my room, and hang out there. They said, "It just feels nicer here, there's things on your walls, it's comfortable." I think it also had something to do with the fact that I didn't freak when a drunken, morose friend knocked at my door at 3am to talk (I don't think I'd be as understanding now). So, I learned a lesson -- what you do with your place makes a difference, even if it's a tiny dorm room. It affects how you feel when you're there, and as we all know, our home is our sanctuary. In addition, since adjusting to Missoula has been tough for me, and even tougher for Beau, I really want to make our place look like a home and not some apartment we're renting for now. It helps with the mindset. And I'm for anything that helps.

So, the following Wednesday when I work, I'll buy a bowl, and placemat. Maybe even that pillow that's on sale for $5.49, marked down from $14.99. It cracks up the Shop-n-Smile staff to see me approach the counter with my cornucopia of single items each night. "How can you afford to work here?" asked one woman. "It kinda pays for itself. My day job pays for the rest," I say.

And every night I come home with one shopping bag. I think it both drives Beau crazy and makes him happy. He hates to spend any money, but I think he likes what I'm doing, he just doesn't want to encourage it too much, especially on the nights I come grunting up the stairs, hauling a 45lb boxed bookcase - a nice one, several steps up from my Sauder days, that'll take us about three hours to put together, us both laughing and snapping at each other throughout the process.

Yesterday, I put together the large and beautiful dining room table I had purchased (on sale + my store discount, woo!), to go with the accompanying bench I had purchased a couple weeks before (the two accompanying chairs will eventually join us, for now it's the folding table chairs). I placed the placemats, napkins, napkin holder, plates, cups, and candle holders I had also accumulated over the past few months on the table as well as one of my nice table runners (I have a thing for table runners) and waited for Beau to come home from work. I've never actually owned a dining room table before, though I briefly had use of my dead great-grandmother's mini-set for a time years back. It felt pretty good to have something of my (our) own that was new, nice-looking, decent quality, and real. The place is slowly coming together, one dish at a time.

"Now, watch we end up moving back to New Zealand," Beau says.

Buzzkiller.

Random Picture of the Day - Car Wash

Ooooh pretty!
My view from inside the Honda while at the car wash. May 2007.

Sad Songs Say So Much

What'll I do

When you are far away
And I am blue
What'll I do?
- Judy Garland

I totally stole this idea from Jera, but I love making up fun lists -- hey, A.D.D. moment -- anyone remember "The Book of Lists" ?? I used to check them out of the library as a kid. They were a lot of fun. ANYWAY...

I think really rip-your-heart-out-of-your-chest songs are my favorite. I love good lyrics and depressing ballads. Go figure. So, I'm including my own Saddest Songs of all Time list. Before I go look at the website that Jera suggested with their own saddest songs of all time, and get myself all influenced, I'm going to list several of my own first, and invite you to do the same!
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POP-n-ROCK-n-R&B-n-JAZZ CATEGORY

Here's That Rainy Day
by Ella Fitzgerald
Ella and Billie sang great sad songs, but this is one of my favorites. I saw a clip of Bette Midler, cheek to cheek with Johnny Carson, singing a line from this song, pretty sweet. The song itself is short and sweet, talking of how though cautioned regarding the dangers of love, we always end up stunned in its bitter aftermath.

Maybe I should have saved
Those leftover dreams
Funny, here's that rainy day
Here's that rainy day they told me about
And I laughed at the thought
That it might turn out this way

Why Should I Cry For You?
by Sting
- This is one of my favorite songs of all time about a man on a ship somewhere in the Arctic, late at night, accepting not only the failure of his relationship, but a lifetime of solitude "hauling on frozen ropes for all my days remaining." And at the risk of sounding weird, I think there's something very male about this song - its stoic resignation. I know there are instances when someone loves you with all their heart, but it's not the way you are expecting/wanting, and that can be hard for both to accept.

Why should I cry for you?
Why would you want me to?
What would it mean to say,
I loved you in my fashion

Tonight
by Elton John (also beautifully sung by George Michael)
- A 7-minute song with a haunting 3-minute piano intro (it's what made me really want to learn how to play the piano!), this song of lost hope tells the story of a man who has been in a relationship of non-stop fighting for so long, and just wants a little bit of peace, and maybe, a small reminder of what it once was before everything was a battle.

Tonight, does it have to be the old thing?
Tonight, Oh, it's late, too late
To chase the rainbow that you're after
I'd like to find a compromise
And place it in your hands
My eyes are blind, my ears can't hear,
And I cannot find the time

Wonderful World
by James Morrison
- Yeah, don't be fooled by the title (or the somewhat boppy melody), it's the song about knowing you should recognize the beauty around you, but no matter how you try, life sucks and you just can't at this time. Who hasn't felt like that before?

And I know it's a wonderful world, but I can't feel it right now
Well, I thought that I was doing well, but I just want to cry now

What If?
by Kate Winslet
- Ahhh regret. What if? What if! Kate Winslet - yes, she can sing! - from a cartoon version of The Christmas Carol, no less - sings about a heartbroken woman and that nagging question!

What if I had never let you go
Would you be the man I used to know
If I'd stayed, if you'd tried
If we could only turn back time
But I guess, we'll never know

Lately
by Stevie Wonder (great remake by K-CI & Jo-Jo too)
- The heartbreaking song of a man who sees the signs of his wife's infidelity, but is hoping, desperately hoping, that he is wrong.

Far more frequently you're wearing perfume
With you say, "No special place to go"
But when I ask will you be coming back soon
You don't know, never know
I'm a man of many wishes
Hope my premonition misses
But what I really feel
My eyes won't let me hide
Cause they always start to cry

Philadelphia
by Bruce Springsteen
- No one talks about this very 90's movie/song anymore, but it's personal for me. It was around the time of my grandfather's death, a man who was "terminally ill" for 20 years with heart disease, but who truly deteriorated during the last two years. I choke up every time at the line "...and my clothes don't fit me no more" since I remember my grandfather telling me that very same thing at that time, with some sadness. The following lines make me think of his final night (he died in his sleep):

Night is falling, I'm lying awake
I can feel myself fading away...

Broken Vow
by Josh Groban
- Sure, he's a hokie dude, but he can really blow your socks off with the emotion in his voice. Nothing says sadness like total betrayal.

Tell me his name I want to know
The way he looks and where you go
I need to see his face, I need to understand
How you and I came to an end

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BROADWAY CATEGORY
Broadway is good for the spotlight on the utter crappiness of life number, usually sung by a lone female about halfway through the show. I've picked two:

I'm Not That Girl
by Idina Menzel in "Wicked"
- How shitty is life when you are deep in love, but know you are competing with the pretty, popular, perky girl and that you disappear when she is around? This song takes the low self-esteem thing even farther where the singer (who just happens to be the pre-Wicked Witch of the East), doubts she even has the right to dream since she's not "that girl."

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl"

On My Own
sung by 'Eponine' in "Les Miserables"

- Poor Eponine's haunting words float around her as she walks along the Seine all night, in the empty, rainy streets of Paris (are the streets of Paris EVER empty?). She pines away for the man who loves another girl and barely notices her (see a theme here?). How does she cope? By creating an intricate fantasy land where she turns him into an imaginary friend who loves only her until dawn, of course!

I love him, but when the night is over
He is gone, the river's just a river
Without him, the world around me changes
The trees are bare, and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers

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COUNTRY CATEGORY
This category could go on forever (as you'll see by Beau's picks), but I just picked two, though you could easily add Johnny Cash's version of NIN's Hurt if you want to feel extra crappy.

Stupid Boy
by Keith Urban
- Oh, how we all wish our jerkoff ex's would just mourn, regret, and pine away after we finally got smart and dumped their sorry ass. Usually, they don't, but once in awhile they do, and this song helps satisfy that selfish feeling.

She laid her heart and soul right in your hands
And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans
She never even knew she had a choice
And that's what happens when
The only voice she hears is telling her she can't
You stupid boy.

The Silver Dagger
by Dolly Parton (remake by Solas)
- Dolly Parton doesn't get enough credit for her work, since the focus is on other things, but some of her stuff is great. This early song, which to me, is a very Celtic-like ballad (hence, the great band Solas did their own version!), tells the story of a young girl whispering to her lover outside her window, refusing him, because her mother has convinced her that men are all scumbags who love you and leave you. I don't know what's the bigger tragedy, that the girl is choosing a lifetime of loneliness, or that her mother (because of her father's cheating ways) has convinced her daughter to do so.

Go court another tender maiden
In hopes that she may be your bride
For I've been warned, so I've decided
I'll sleep alone all of my life

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FOREIGN CATEGORY
I had two for this, but this list is getting REALLY long, so I'll just put one:

Ne Me Quitte Pas
by Jacques Brel (remake by Sting)
"Don't Leave Me" is the translation. The entire song, which is very poetic, is basically a man begging a woman not leave him and how his life will just be utter crap if she does. The last lines are both heart-wrenching and strangely humorous. Maybe some of my Canadian friends can tell me if I got it wrong:

Ne me quitte pas (Don't leave me)
Je ne vais plus pleurer (I'm not going to cry anymore)
Je ne vais plus parler (I'm not going to talk anymore)
Je me cacherai la (I will hide myself over there)
A te regarder danser et sourire (To watch you dancing and smiling)
Et a t'ecouter chanter et puis rire (And to listen to you singing and then laughing)
Laisse-moi devenir (Leave me here to become)
L'ombre de ton ombre (The shadow of your shadow)
L'ombre de ta main (The shadow of your hand)
L'ombre de ton chien (The shadow of your dog) !?!?!
Ne me quitte pas... (Don't leave me)

-------------------------

BEAU VOTES
("Geez, J., now you got me all sad thinking about this!")
I'm not a huge country music fan, though there's some stuff I like. Beau is, though thankfully he likes rock too, but all his choices are the 'tear in my beer' country ballads. Sadly, he couldn't come up with all the titles, so if anyone could help out, I'll change it...

Green Green Grass of Home
by Merle Haggard
- Song about a guy on death row

You Never Even Call Me By My Name
by David Alan Coe
- Which features a guy getting out of prison, waiting for his mom to pick him up, but then she gets killed on the way there. (Another prison song. Beau's pattern is giving me a creepy feeling...)

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia
by whomever (10,000 remakes)
- Beau: "They're married. She's running around. He dies. She dies. It's sad."
What else needs to be said?

The song about 9-11 by Alan Jackson

He Stopped Loving Her Today
by George Jones
- This one even kills me.

Kept some letters by his bed
Dated 1962
He had underlined in red
Every single "I love you"

Babies, Mistakes, and Leave Me Alone!

Happy Mother's Day to all, and particularly to the three mommies I personally know who gave birth within the past few weeks: Andrea, Cabol, and my sister Lindsey!!! Hooray for little Zane, Aniela, and James. The baby boom continues...
-------------------------

Mother's Day has always been awkward for me. My mother had me my first few years of life in the chilly Midwest before she shipped me out to my grandparents to live the rest of my childhood in the sunny Southwest. So, essentially, I have two mothers - the one who gave birth to me and the one who raised me. It sure makes hunting for Mother's Day cards a chore, since all the ones addressed to "mother" talk about all the "memories" during childhood, and all the "grandmother" ones talk about her milk and cookies and sweet ways (my grandparents were pretty strict). Trying to come up with a card that is both appropriate, but not emotionally neutral is tough. Not to mention that my mother and grandmother have always been completely at odds with each other and use me jealously as a pawn, so like two bratty children, I always have to make sure they get the SAME gifts (cost-wise) so no one seems favored. Lord.

This year I got my grandmother a silver cross which she adored (and she' s one tough broad to please), and my mother got a gift certificate for Home Depot. Right there you can see the differences in their personalities.

I am currently the only female in my entire family who has not even conceived. The various females of my bloodline seem quite offended by this on some level since every single one of them has given birth somewhere between their 19th and 21st year, NOT a goal I had ever intended to reach. My mother has been the only one who has refrained from the constant, blunt-ass, "When are you going to get pregnant? You're getting really old," demands I receive via telephone every single time I talk to one of these women. I thought she would lay off since a) she's one of those women who probably should never have had children since she kinda hates them, and b) she was heat-of-a-thousand-suns pissed off when my sister accidentally got pregnant at 21. Well, the wait is over! During our Mother's Day call I got the question. I told her not to ask me again. She claimed she was only asking because she was at the baby shower for another impregnated family member (via marriage) and how at that party my step-brother's wife was harangued for her lack of conception (they've only been married like a year and a half), and so, well....well, there was no real excuse, she was just searching for one.

This is nothing new, it's like being unmarried in your 30's. People start asking you why you haven't done it or telling you with that condescending sneer that you better "hurry up." I've been asked about both since my 20's and it never bothered me too much, but now, in my 34th year, it's beginning to really bug the shit out of me.

WHAT IS THE DEAL?! Why is there still this pressure, this push for every woman to have children? I thought society was kinda getting past this. And why is it mostly from other women, particularly those who have already had children? When you're single, there's always the "recently-married" who suddenly feel like they have to try and get YOU married off now (REALLY annoying). This is a similar situation. I've often said that I have a few friends who have made the conscious choice to NOT have children and I applaud them! Anyone who thinks they should NOT be a parent and then does the responsible thing and not become one, has my full admiration and respect. That's a mature decision.

I never intended to get married again, but then came Beau, so that changed my life. And though I've always intended to have children someday, it's never been a good time and I have taken great pains to ensure that I didn't make a "mistake." There's nothing wrong with "mistakes," since I myself was one. My own mother was attending college -- the first person in our entire family to do so, so there was lots of expectation -- and then oops, sometime after some college party, I made my appearance. I've never felt bad about this at all, and never really understood why people get so upset when they discover they were "mistakes." Hell, I bet at least 50% of all babies in the world were not planned. Not to mention, it's not like I had anything to do with it.

So, let this be known to all out there -- DO NOT ask me anymore if I am going to have children! It's a private matter, and maybe I will, maybe I won't, I really don't know. And if I don't have a baby, THAT'S OKAY. Besides, I'm sure I'll blog about it if it should happen, so it won't be a big secret. It'd be a lot more interesting than some of the sad sap crap I've been posting lately. Beau and I don't even have a house, nor truly stable jobs (I'm still temping during the day, Shop-n-Smiling at night, and Beau is substitute teaching during the day and Wally Worlding at night). And Beau is several years older than me, which is also a concern (for him). He doesn't want to wait forever, which I totally get, but like me, isn't eager to bring a child into the world when we're still a bit unstable.

When I told this to my grandmother over the weekend, she said, "But J., NO ONE is really ever ready for a baby!" Well, okay, sure, but wouldn't you want to at least not feel like you were having a baby during a time of chaos?

And with that lovely thought, a happy Mother's Day to you all, and to all a good night.

Love Means Never Having to Say You're Sorry

Well, STEVE, since you thought my previous post was too girly, I have a question to pose for you manly man's man...err..men...out there. (And yes, yes, it all stereotypical, just live through it).

Why...how...are you men able to forgive/forget so easily?

I really do want to know.

Sometimes I find it admirable (and a relief), other times, simply maddening. Example, early this morning I had a minor tiff with Beau. He characterizes it as a miscommunication/misunderstanding. Of course, I think I understood him perfectly. *cough*

So, I go to work feeling pretty bad about the whole thing. It wasn't a blow-out or anything, but it did sort of leave me feeling a little gloomy. One of those times where you wish your job didn't have so much human interaction, so you could just kind of hide away for awhile. The feeling lasted for the next several hours, in a combination of pissed-off'ness and bummed-out'ness. By the time it was time for me to take a late break, around 11am, I wondered if I should call Beau. I wondered if I wanted to call Beau. I typically call him on my break as I'm getting a soda or walking around taking pictures of flowers (*pokes tongue out at Steve*), but I was still a little angry. The couple of hours that had passed had softened my anger a bit, and knowing I shouldn't slide over into Poutsville, I called. Beau answered.

*in booming, gregarious voice* Heyyy, there's my wife! Hi!

*pause* Hi.

And at that moment, I knew he was fine, the morning was over. It wasn't even to be considered anymore. Just like that. And I also knew, that he probably hadn't given it much thought after I walked out the door. Of course, I couldn't help bringing up that morning again where we did a fast and furious re-hash, then we moved on.

I've never found it super easy to just drop it, to shrug and move on (Beau is unbelievably good at the "whatever" shrug), though I'm no record-keeping grudge holder neither. I know it's not a virtue to hold on to annoyance, anger, sadness despite the fact that I think I'm loads better than I was when I was younger. But still! When I try to reflect on what is the cause, I usually go back to that feeling that people hurt each other, they do wrong to each other, and there just never seems to be any real retribution for that. No, I'm not talking about Rambo kick-ass retribution, but a sort of ...what am I looking for? Regret? A honest wish to "make it right?" And by staying angry, you are letting the person know that, "No, this wasn't a little thing, it did actually kinda hurt, and I wish you'd not dismiss it too easily."

But in all honesty, then there's the flip side -- when I am the big fat horse's butt, it's a nice luxury to have Beau let it roll off his shoulders and greet me the next time with a grin and a hello hug. Personally, I think part of it is also fear -- that if I DO let it go so easily, that it'll just happen again and again, and I'll not only be hurt, but feel like a fool (always a charming combo).

I know it's stereotypical to think men always get over things quickly and women hold it a bit longer, but I've seen it enough times to at least think of it as a general pattern. And if any of you women are more of the shrugging type, then I'd love to hear what you have to say.

And as for you Steve.... :P

Splendor in the Grass

There's been quite the wait for Spring here, but thankfully, it's come full force on campus. Brilliant green grass, towering trees, and flowers of all sorts are everywhere; it's a joy to walk around in. I took a few pics with my snazzy, new camera phone. It seems to have given all the photos a kind of glowing aura, but I can live with that. Not bad for a phone, after all.

Hooray for Spring!

Random Photo of the Day - Scottish Thistle

Scottish Thistle
Kansas City, Missouri - July 2006
(technically, I don't know if it's a Scottish thistle, but it looks just like one (color too), and we just happened to be at the big KC Scottish festival at the time).

Good thing...

...we didn't plant those seven tomato plants.

It's FRICKIN' snowing!!!

Hrmph.

Gus the Garden Guy

As previously mentioned, Beau and I scored a coveted community garden plot. It's a bit smaller than the area we're used to vegetable gardening in, but we're happy to have it. The people who run the various gardens around town stress how much it's not just about people making their own food, or supplying local food pantries, but also about the sense of community in the garden -- talking to your garden neighbors and local neighbors, making friendships, etc.

Though there's nothing wrong with chumming up with your neighbor, and I consider Beau and I to be pretty friendly people (Beau could talk to a total stranger for hours, especially if he's a senior citizen), I can't get into the whole "community" thing. I didn't get a garden plot to make friends, or for the upcoming potluck, or any of that stuff. I got a garden because one of my favorite things to do in the world is to be deep in the dirt with Beau *wink wink* and to grow vegetables. We just planted our first veggies and as we were walking away, I kept turning back to look at them. When we had our large garden in Missouri, I used to just sit out there and stare at the garden. I'd just let me eyes scan over the glorious tomato plants, the twisting and turning peas and beans, the colorful sprite that was the Thai chili plants, the towering and flowering cilantro, the wildly prolific mint, and all the other sensuous and fragrant herbs, particularly the basil. It felt good to watch these things grow, and then later to use them in all of our Thai, Italian, and American dishes coming out of the kitchen.

It's almost to the point of being a very personal and private thing, which is why I'd get so incensed at the squirrels carting off my precious tomatoes before I could pick them myself. It was insulting to put so much work into something you love and then have it ripped away from you.

So far in our current garden, we've made polite conversation with the various people, mostly of the young hippie type growing food organically for themselves. But nothing can top our encounters with Gus. A cartoon character come to flesh, if we ever did see one.

He's freakishly similar to Popeye in appearance, including the squinting eye and gravely voice, yet the tooting pipe is absent. Instead, Gus stuffs a good amount of chew into his pie hole. This is one of my favorite characteristics about him, since while talking with you, he will repeatedly spit out a pocket of the dark juice, with impressive distance though probably not accuracy. A satisfying *pttt* sound accompanies each exodus (sadly, no *ding* accompanies). He's also a veteran (is Popeye a navy veteran or just a plain ol' "sailor man?").

Basically, Gus owns the community garden we inhabit. He already possesses several plots (including several more at some of the other gardens), and he very clearly spends a large amount of his time there. He knows everyone and every blade of grass in the area. When we first arrived, and were asking about the various mammoth piles of dirt (compost, poop, new dirt, old dirt, etc.), he fixed us with a very wary eye and questioned us carefully. We didn't know what to make of him, and finally at some point of the conversation he figured out we actually owned a plot, his entire demeanor changed and suddenly we were all best friends. That was a good, and bad thing.

Gus is chatty, and proceeded to give us a FULL-ON education on the community garden and gardening in general. Some of it was interesting, some of it we already knew (this ain't our first rodeo!), and some of it was discouraging. After a half hour of one person talking TO you, most things stop being interesting at all. One of our biggest obstacles seems like it will be the neighborhood children, which careen around the garden on their wobbly bikes in packs of 2-5. Gus told us how anything they can pick and eat, they will (tomatoes, raspberries, pumpkins, etc.). Last year almost all pumpkins, carrots, and strawberries were stolen, and you have to pick your tomatoes while still a light red color and just stick them in your window and hope they ripen nicely. DEPRESSING! At least with the squirrels I could live-trap them and re-locate them! Also depressing since I have both a gooseberry and red current bush I'd love to plant, but would be heartbroken if they were picked clean, what with little berries they will produce. I was hoping to get enough berries to make ONE gooseberry pie this year. We'll see.

I stopped by the garden the other day just to water the few things we've planted (we've been told repeatedly that the ground will be "too cold" until the end of May for most things - like my 7 beloved tomato plants impatiently sitting on the window ledge in the living room). I then walked back to the shed to drop off the watering can and go home. I was still in my fancy schmancy work clothes and in no condition to do much else. Then I made a mistake. I asked Gus a question.

I can't remember now what it was. It was a minor question, but something I just wanted to know, car keys in hand, just before I left.

I was there another 20 minutes. Gus regaled me with tales, pointed out another girl at the garden and informed me several times that they "don't get along" but then went on and on about her giant, beautiful tomatoes (that were picked and promptly dumped on the ground by children - one of which he picked up and ate). He went on and on about the kids again, and told me how there are mothers in the neighborhood with maps of the garden who will direct their kids through walkie-talkies (yes, he swears this happens) to particular plots to pick things she wants. Great. Writing this now it sounds like a bunch of crap, but I believed him when he told me (twice).

The whole time he not only was spitting away, but simultaneously wielded a very scary garden implement with three spikes that he kept enthusiastically waving so dangerously close to my eye, I grew quite alarmed and kept taking a step back. He showed me his onions (yuck) and garlic (yum) and the leaf piles and the stone piles and even a wild purple plant that grows around the non-plot areas of the garden that you can pick and eat (I did try it, and admit it was rather tasty). Finally, when I was just on the verge of telling him, "I gotta go!" he suddenly bowed and saluted, said something along the lines of "That's my story and I'm stickin' to it", and dismissed me. He was gone in a flash like a superhero, or well, Popeye.

Sheesh, and I almost forgot -- his entire speech is peppered with some really raunchy curse words -- something I kind of enjoy. I've always delighted in curse words in general, as long as they're done with taste, of course. When Gus is yapping along for awhile, he'll just throw in a few choice words here and there which kinda surprise you like being poked in the side. I don't know if I'm imaging things, or if it's just because Beau and I haven't been out much with other people in a social, relaxed sense, but people don't seem to curse much around here. It's deep into my own vocabulary, and I find myself censoring myself. No need with good ol' Gus.

Nevertheless, after recovering quickly from Popeye Gus' startling exit, I felt a sense of relief and then left. Beau and I plan on going there tonight. It should be an interesting summer.