Zoe

Lost

2012-01-23T21:57:00.000-08:00

I lost my engagement ring.

I'm nursing a small hope that it may be somewhere in the house and will turn up someday. But I'm not getting my hopes up too high. It was lost in October. If it hasn't turned up by now it probably isn't going to.

It's much worse than just losing my engagement ring. It was a family ring and very very special to me. I feel terribly guilty about losing it, as well as heartbroken. I really don't mind not having an engagement ring so we're not planning to replace it. I'd rather just have a simple band if I can't have that ring. Its value for me wasn't in its sparkle or shine. It makes me sad to think about it.

So anyway... there's that. I've been sad the last few days about nothing and everything. I get tired of things being broken. Of the word stepmom. Of the way the kids are growing up before our eyes and I can't rewind and make them little again. I know all parents feel this way, but since I missed the years they were "littles" it makes me especially sad. I'm leaning more toward not having kids of my own for various reasons and I suppose I'm grieving for that too. It's okay, just... necessary. The grieving, I mean.

In the midst of all this we are dealing with unemployment, a great big question mark about the future, and a custody case. Funz. Also we can't afford even a super cheap wedding until we find jobs and we can't find jobs because we can't even leave this county until the court case is settled. The city I live in is hard hit by the recession. Jobs are not easy to come by. I know it will be okay, but the waiting is hard. I am grateful for what I have though. I would rather have all this love and happiness than a million dollars and a mansion in Palo Alto. Life, at it's core, is good.

"One of Those Days" Describes Too Many of Mine Lately.

2012-01-21T19:30:00.000-08:00

Oh hello, Anxiety, how have you be- AAAHHHHHH WE"RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!!!....

I'm coming apart at the seams. I am on edge all the time. Todd is wonderful and the kids are perfect (except when they leave a banana in their backpack for an indeterminate length of time and then pull out a library book dripping with very old, very slimy banana sludge and say with a confused look, "I don't know how this happened.") and overall life is pretty good right now. It's just that there is this hand gripping my heart that won't let go. I feel panicky and worried all the time. When I dream it's unpleasant. Even the not-bad dreams are bad.

UPDATE: I stopped drinking caffeine. Much better now.

My Sister Rocks the Block

2011-12-12T21:10:00.000-08:00

She's like the Oprah of moms. Or the Martha Stewart of moms. I dunno, something like that. She makes pop tarts from scratch and does amazing craft projects for her kids. She's also really nice, smart and funny, and real purty to look at. It's kind of disgusting. But I love her anyway.

She got an Elf on the Shelf (America's newest instant tradition that you only ever vaguely heard about before this holiday season, if at all, but now can't stop seeing everywhere) and she hacked it. These are her words not mine. Apparently the deal is that you're supposed to pose the Elf in different places in the house each night. She's a skilled seamstress and crafter and the first thing she did with the stuffed elf was to bust him open and insert wire into all of his limbs to make him posable. I give you Libby's Elf on the Shelf, in all his awesome poseyness. Don't you wish Libby was your mom?

Halloween

2011-11-08T14:23:00.000-08:00

Halloween rocked. Stone was the Link character from the video game Zelda. Daphne was a cowgirl. Todd and I were....? I suppose we could be described as a Frankensteinish monster and a an elf, also known as whatever we threw on in the five minutes we had between finishing the kids' costumes and rushing out the door. My elf ears were prototypes for Stone's costume that we ended up not using. I figured that all that work should not be in vain so I wore them.

We went to a Harvest Festival at a church nearby. It was crazy elaborate and crazy crowded.

"Listen up, pardner, I'll shoot yer elf ears right off if'n you don't hand over that there scarred up green.... well what'n the hell is that thing anyway?"

Pointy-eared Freak Attacked by Greenish Monster!!!
The purse kinda ruins the tone. What? No I didn't color code the dvds. Elves came and did it, in the middle of the night. Elves are anal like that. Also the cobwebs on the mirror? Decorations, people- not real!!

Stone's shield. Todd but an ungodly amount of work into it. It started life as a plastic tray from the dollar store. Todd cut, peeled, sanded, painted distressed, repainted and sealed it into the most accurate Link shield ever. He even made the back look like wood. Gah.

Chickens!!!!!! There was a petting zoo.

~~I am~~ The kids are still enjoying the Halloween candy

Time For Something New???

2011-10-06T07:50:00.001-07:00

I am trying out one of the fancy new Blogger designs. I can't decide if it's cool or annoying. Give me feedback, friends, what do you think?

UPDATED: Yeah, not so much, huh? Now I can't figure out how to get my old template back. Oh well, this will do for now.

Arrrrr, I Be One Day Too Late for National Talk Like a Pirate Day

2011-09-21T13:55:00.000-07:00

Hey, remember that one time I wrote about the Pirate Treasure Hunt and said that if I could find my camera charger I'd take pictures of it and show them to you? Guess what?! I founded it! Eight or so months ago at the beginning of the year. It was, um, in a random location on the grounds of our apartment complex. Apparently it had fallen out of the camera bag when we took a scenic family photo by the little bridge... in October. But it still works! And anyway we have two now because of course as predicted we found it three days after giving up and ordering a replacement. So... yeah.

But back to my point, which was... Pirates!!! Here's the tutorial on how to out together a really awesome treasure hunt that your kids will figure out in 1/100 of the time that you spent on making it, and enjoy almost half as much as you and you ostensibly adult spouse/partner do.

1st: Git yourself some pirate treasure. Good places to find it: thrift stores, flea markets, your old jewelry box, grandma's coin collection, bubblegum machines (only the kinds with cheesy rings, not gum- gum is NOT authentic pirate treasure), etc.

2nd: Draw an approximate map of your house or the area in which the hunt will take place. Be pirately sneaky but specific (example: "The gally, whar ye cooks yer food" = the kitchen). Be sure to write in painstakingly pirate-like script. Remember if you do not stay up until 3 am and give yourself a headache squinting at the fountain pen by candlelight, UR DOIN' IT WRONG. Or you may just be more sane than we are. Probably the latter. If you can work in awesome details like the fact that the antique steamer trunk you use for a coffee table is actually a genuine, "old sea chest," even better.

3rd: Write the first clue leading to the second clue. Rhyming is optional.

[A picture of Daphne as a baby wearing a snowflake costume. Next clue was behind the frame.]

4th: Write a bunch of other clues blah blah blah.

This was a Christmas card- from my lovely friend Bry, who the kids adore (featuring Santa) that had been residing magnetically on the front of the fridge. Inside was the next clue.]

Um, Captain Obvious: inside of the hallway closet.

It's a mirror! Get it?! "look unto thine selves," "further reflection?!?" C'mon guys!

Behind the (now sadly departed) sea monkeys' tank.

Big red book: Dictionary

Aaaand then a hint to look up "pirate" which led to the map.

Make sure you not only find parchment-like paper, but crumple it, soak it in water and painstakingly singe the edges with a lighter in order to make it look authentically ancient. This is best done in the wee hours of the morning, in desperate haste, frantically preparing so everything will be ready by the time the kids wake up. You're welcome.

2011-08-16T10:18:00.001-07:00

A Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag by Gordon Korman

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I read this multiple times when I was a teenager and every time it made me laugh out loud so hard that my mother got annoyed (some of us have housework to do and can't sit around reading funny books all day!). I have since realized, as a mother and head-kitchen-cleaner type of person myself, that housework is a lot more bearable if you make time to read in between(or occasionally instead of) vacuuming and wiping down the counters.

I only vaguely remember that this book involves some sort of madcap adventure between various high school social outcasts and yet I can still heartily recommend it. The fact that it's out of print is a reflection of everything that's wrong with our society. Go find a library that still stocks it or find a used copy online. You won't be sorry.

If you're able to read this entire book while drinking milk without snorting it out of your nose at least once (the milk, not the book),I will give you a medal.

View all my reviews

New Hampshire: Part 2

2011-08-07T01:30:00.000-07:00

I beautified my sister's house for her, free of charge. AND I let her be graced by Todd n' me's* presence for days! I am nice like that.

*Proper usage- SMJ (Style Manual of Jess)

I'm skipping ahead though because this part actually happened after we came back from New Hampshire. And then Libby took us to the beach. With our awesome friends Shannon and Anne and their super cute boys. This makes it sound vaguely like Shannon and Anne are a couple, with collective children, which is not the case. Todd found two crabs, which enabled him both to be the envy of every child within a 50 foot radius and say (over and over again) that he, "went to the beach in Rhode Island and caught crabs." It was a win/win for him. It was more of a win/? for the rest of us.

But I digress! Back to New Hampshire. the awesome old summer housetm had an awesome wrap around porch that was fully furnished with rocking chairs and picnic benches and furnished views of Silver Lake in one direction and Mount Monadnock in another. It were purty. Real purty.

Katie is ever on the lookout for the opportunity to frame herself in flowers and wait for someone to take a picture.

The awesome old housetm had an awesome locked barn that Todd and Katie and I felt the irrepressible urge to explore. Sorry, old house owners, we couldn't help ourselves. The window in the front prove to be open and we snuck in and carefully looked around (without disturbing anything) but were caught by some young malcontents who desperately wanted to be part of the action.

You guys! We wanna go in da barn too!!!
Responsible Growndups: "What, who? Nobody's in the barn! Nobody's here, nooobodyy's heeeere...." Unfortunately the fact that the protests came from inside the barn did not fail to escape our young sleuths. The party line we adopted later that night- that Aunties Katie & Jess and Uncle Todd had been in the house the whole time and the figures the suspicious youths had seen looking out the hayloft window were undoubtably ghosts (who happened to be wearing the same clothing as we were, when we were telling them this story) -was regrettably met with open skepticism and what some might describe even as scorn. Kids these days, so jaded. Where has the innocence gone?

Ah got mah eye on yew, yew old whippersnappers. Ah know you were in that barn, and dadgummit, if I can prove it, I'll see y'all clapped in irons!

Don'tchya know the Doschers?

2011-08-03T22:35:00.000-07:00

I have a big family. My mom's one of five kids and my dad's one of six. Between their families there are something like 30 grandkids, so although my siblings and I make up a large number of those, there are still quite a few cousins, aunts and uncles to go around.

My dad's family has always lived nearby so we see them pretty regularly. In fact when Todd and I met in Rhode Island last year he was ambushed by not only my immediate family (numerous and overwhelming as they are- rather like a large friendly dog who wants to lick your face when you're more of a cat person) but by my dad's entire side of the family as well. We had all come together that weekend to attend our beloved Mimi's funeral and celebrate the legacy she'd left behind and naturally, I couldn't miss the chance to introduce them all to this man I ~~barely knew~~ was going to marry. Poor, poor Todd. In justification though, I did, upon meeting him, spend several days with his two kids, his brother, and their two cats. Whereupon I spent three weeks in a van with them, minus the brother and the cats. So it all evens out.

My mom's family lives down south, so we don't see them as often. For years we've been talking about having a family reunion up in New Hampshire, where my mom's family lived when she was growing up. This year it finally happened. Todd and I managed to go at the last minute..

We stayed in a huge old rambly summer house on a lake.

Todd and I lucked out and got the porch room off of the biggest bedroom. Well, for the first night anyway. The second day it rained and we hurriedly dragged our makeshift bed back into the main room.

After that we shared the big bedroom with my sister Libby, and assorted small nieces and nephews. Todd thought it was funny to bounce & make the bedsprings creak to gross Libby out after the kids were asleep which resulted in much furtive giggling on Libby's and my part.* Also once Libby stepped on a Transformer (or some kind of electronic toy) and it turned on and all three of us had to bury our faces in pillows to avoid waking the wee ones up. I may have snorted.

*On further reflection and rereading it seems prudent to clarify that Libby was in a separate bed on the other side of the room. We're a close family, but not that close.

The cousins had fun exploring the house. "Little Dan" on the right there had much more fun than he looks like he's having. He's just upset that I interrupted his video game. He looked way happier when he was catching fish with hot dogs but I didn't get a picture of that.

Some manly grilling and beer drinking was done by Dad and the uncles.

My Poppi was the star of the reunion. He's a famous writer, you know. Here's his book. You should read it

My mom's family lived in the house that's the town general store now. This is three generations of women. My mom & her sisters, my sisters and I, and my niece Georgia who is at the age of incredibly cute, remember?

It was all very much lots of fun and I haven't even told you about the amazing fish or the lightning bugs yet. Maybe I will tomorrow. If you're lucky.

Random

2011-07-19T14:31:00.000-07:00

Todd looks particularly good with a baby, don't you think? My niece Georgia is at the age of incredibly cute. I like that age. I'm thinking since Todd doesn't have many pictures of the kids as babies (things were... difficult... then, survival superseded picture-taking) we should probably get one of our own so's I can take lots of pictures of him holding a wee baby. 'Cuz it's cute. And I am self-sacrificial like that.

This is what being trapped in an airport for six hours looks like.

This is what it looks like several hours in.

Today I feel crappy and everything seems pointless but when I feel better I will tell you stories about our trip to New England. It was way cool. And not only because I got to see a ton of family members from both sides of my extended family.

We have not seen the kids since Father's Day. Their mother will not even let us talk to them on the phone unless she wants something/happens to be in a particularly good mood. Usually the former. Just over a week until we get them back!!!

2011-06-30T11:29:00.000-07:00

Three years ago this month my friend's little boy drowned in a swimming pool. He was four years old. Three years and two weeks ago I went to his funeral and watched as a tiny white casket was lowered into the ground. That image will stay with me until my dying day. It shouldn't happen. Ever.

Yesterday my friend's little boy drowned in a swimming pool. He was five years old. He was resuscitated but his brain had been deprived of oxygen for too long. They lost him this morning.

I am so furious and heartbroken and frustrated right now. I want to hurt someone. Two of the most amazing mothers I know have had a child taken from them. I believe God is in control but I also believe He's big enough to handle my anger and my questions. I can't even begin to imagine how much pain my friends Susannah and Jim are in right now. I would storm heaven or hell and beat someone up to make this right for them if I could.

No More Pencils, No More Books...

2011-05-30T14:43:00.000-07:00

So the kids are out of school for the summer. Friday was their last day. How did that happen?! It seems like yesterday we were signing them up for school here. I can't believe it's summer again already and we've been a family for a whole year. I wish the kids would stop growing up so quickly, I can see such a difference from when I met them!

I'm glad they're growing up but I missed so much of their littleness that it makes me sad to think about them being teenagers and hating their dad & I. I do try to be mentally prepared for regular old angsty teenagerism PLUS blended family issues, so when I get to play the wicked stepmother- "I don't have to listen to you, YOU'RE not my MOTHER!"- it will be less of a shock. But Oh, how I wish I could rewind their lives and hold them as babies and chase after them as chubby toddlers just for a little while before they get taller than me. :)

Todd and I worried about the local elementary school's low ratings when we first moved here. The CA system requires them to really push in parents' faces the fact that the school performed poorly the year before (as if most parents have a choice anyway... I can see the point of being open about it, but it seems a bit counter-productive), and though the kids have an easy time with academics, and Todd spends lots of time teaching them at home, we really want them to enjoy school. I hated school all the way through and it made my life miserable and kinda prejudiced me against conventional education.

Our fears were groundless. I think both kids had the best school year ever. This is the first year these former Army brats have been able to complete an entire school year in the same state, let alone the same school! And we all love, love, LOVE their school. The principal was on a mission to turn the school around this year, after she replaced a principal who made some poor decisions in the last few. She definitely succeeded. I spent some time volunteering there in the second half of the year and I found everyone who works there to be amazing. In spite of the fact that the parent volunteer ratio is really small at this school, the teachers, and parents who are able to help out, are enthusiastic and determined to make the school the best one they can for the kids.

So ends our first year in Modesto. I wonder what this year will bring?

Happy Tuesday After The World Didn't End!!

2011-05-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

Things have been... interesting around here. In a way that I can't really talk about. Just trust me when I say that it's been a fairly stressful few weeks. However, right now we are not thinking about the bad things (we are not!! we are not!!) and as a result we had a lovely, relaxing weekend.

Our resident duck is still sitting on her second nest of eggs. We don't have much hope for these ones. We took the first batch to the Wildlife Center nearby and, well... I suspect euthanasia. I can't really blame them for not incubating eggs that they'd then have to care for as ducklings and release to the wild with no duck mama. I'm sure they're overwhelmed and strapped for cash as it is and they have hordes of baby animals being brought in this time of year. However, I am slightly bitter about the fact that they didn't just tell me up front that they wouldn't incubate the eggs. Thankfully the kids have forgotten about them by now. We had tadpoles briefly but they met a similar fate. Todd says I had them in too small a container, but they looked so pretty in there! I still spot the Cooper's Hawk from time to time, but now that the trees have leafed out we can't really observe the nest. I've lost count of how many toads the kids have rescued from the pool filter.

As spring draws toward summer the school year is winding down. The kids have one last week of school and then they're out for the summer. I can't believe we've been here for almost a year. I thought we'd be in this town, this school district, this apartment, for a few months at most. I'm always trying to put God's plans on fast-forward and I imagine He's always fondly rolling his eyes and saying, "Relax. I've got it under control." I find it hard not to feel the need to make things happen and take care of people. When you grow up being defined as "the oldest of all those kids," it's hard to leave the perceived responsibility behind.

I'm so glad we chose Modesto though. We've been exceptionally happy here as we learned how to be a family. It was a struggle at times, no surprise under the circumstances. I definitely wouldn't recommend starting a relationship the way Todd and I did to most people, but I won't ever regret the decisions I made. It's been a year of exceptional growth, for all of us, perhaps, but definitely for me. Which is not to say that more isn't needed. ;)

Tomorrow is the first grade play, Goin' Buggy, which Stone has excitedly been counting down the days to. Excited is an understatement. He practically vibrates when he wakes up each morning and realizes that he is One. Day. Closer. To. THE PLAY!!!!!!!!!!!! I helped out with the set design (sounds so fancy! Reality: I made some paper flowers) so I'm excited too. Hopefully the paper flowers will not wilt.

Reposted from 1998. You're welcome.

2011-05-19T11:03:00.000-07:00

[Because I can't talk publicly about what's really been going on in my life lately.]

Hi Chris,

Smokey (Smoky?) is doing well and seems to be enjoying
the attention he's getting (don't believe anything he
tells you otherwise). Here are some pics i took on
Friday.

Jess

Deer Krees.

Pleez halp. Thes grl you hiard to feed me is- how yu say?- makeng me to loose the marblz. She put toys on mah hed like a beray and tak picturs, comprmizing mah manli catliness and makng me too speek in zis stupeed French acent. Also she nevr fede me and I am wastng awa. Plz com hom as sun as posibl and breng tuna.

Smokey,

p.s. Dont bothr to com withot teh tuna

Housekeeping

2011-05-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

When we went to the bay area for Zach and Christy's wedding we stayed, along with the rest of my family, in a hotel with suites and, um, a higher standard of service than the hotels we usually stay in (i.e. on the ~~Great~~ Cheap Road Trip of '10). The kids were amazed that not only did we have two rooms!!! but that every day when we came back the rooms had been restored to their original splendor of cleanliness by magical house elves. We explained about housekeeping and all agreed that it was very nice of those people to come in and clean our rooms and make the beds for us.

When we left, the kids wanted to leave notes thanking the housekeeping staff and I thought that was a nice idea. I wasn't paying attention when Daphne asked me for our address and phone number but apparently she wanted to make sure the housekeeping staff of the Embassy Suites could get in touch with us later, if need be. It's a good thing she doesn't know what a social security number is because I'm pretty sure she would have insisted on including that too. I took a picture of the notes because they were so dang cute.

I'm still not sure what it is we're "hopeful" about, but I'm assuming it's that magical house elves would show up at our apartment the next time we're out and clean up our mess. So far, no such luck.

A Very Engaging Beach Vacation

2011-05-02T17:34:00.000-07:00

The kids are away for spring break with their mom. We miss them. We're little sad without them, especially since it's Stone's birthday this week. We decided to go somewhere fun. Todd's family loves this beach on the central coast. There are pretty stones on the beach and it's a family tradition to collect them. I'd never been there.

On Monday we thought about leaving. Instead we spent the day being unbelievably stressed out by unfortunate circumstances. It was Stone's birthday. His mother was having a hard time adjusting to sharing the kids with a new person. There were hours of arguments before we got to talk to Stone. She demanded that I not accompany Todd and the children to the handoffs anymore. Seeing me hug the children in front of her makes her angry. We decided to go Tuesday.

Morning came. I felt like crap. I wanted to curl up and go to sleep. Todd packed the van and did the grocery run. I took a nap on the couch. I whined. He threatened. I agreed to go. We spent the morning driving through an incredibly gorgeous landscape. Over green hills and through valleys. Past countless picturesque weathered barns and windmills. We stumbled across a national monument and took a detour to eat ice cream and hike through a cave. Back on the road the scenery just got better. As the ocean came into view from the top of the hills, thick fog rolled in. It was breathtaking.

We arrived in the seaside town of Cambia at dinnertime. Pizza at a tourist spot tasted heavenly after hours of traveling. We slept snuggled up in the van, cozy as a tent and less work to set up.

The next morning Todd wanted to explore the beach in spite of the ominous skies. As we walked along watching the waves foam over jagged rocks it started to rain. The beach is covered in driftwood and random forts and lean-to's built out of it do the landscape. Todd pulled me into the biggest one to hide from the rain. As we watched, the sun came out and shone on the hillside opposite, making everything glow. He said, "It's so beautiful." I agreed. He said, "It makes me want to ask you to marry me." I looked at him, he was holding a ring.

I laughed and might have squeaked. I hugged him. He was still holding the ring. We kissed and hugged some more. I held out my hand. He put the ring on. I told him he was mine-all-mine now and there was no escaping. He seemed okay with that. Or maybe he's just a really good actor.

We spent the next few days being blissfully happy beach bums. We plan to spend the rest of our lives driving each other crazy and being in love. Since we got engaged I've only had to make angry eyebrows at him once for squirting me with a water gun when I was in a bad mood. It's hard to stick with a bad mood when someone is laughing at your angry eyebrows and squirting you with a water gun and then giving you food because you forgot to eat lunch and that's why you're in a bad mood. I think things are going pretty well.

A Very Engaging Beach Vacation

2011-04-25T20:19:00.000-07:00

He asked. I said yes. Further details forthcoming.

What Love is Not

2011-04-16T04:18:00.001-07:00

If it makes the recipient feel like garbage- it's not love.

If it's unkind or hurtful- it's not love.

Saying you're doing something, "out of love" or concern, doesn't make it true.

Saying unkind or hurtful things in a jokey wokey manner in order to conceal your uneasy feelings does not make them any less hurtful or unkind or inject them with love. It's like being stabbed in the back by a loved one who's hugging you and telling you how much they care while they push the knife deeper.

If it involves you judging whether another person's choices for their own life are right or wrong, it's not love.

Saying you're a Christian doesn't make you one. Jesus never made anybody feel like garbage. Turns out that whole, "They will know you by your love." thing is actually pretty crucial to the whole plot.

When you tell someone that you love and respect them you just can't support their relationship because it doesn't live up to your standards of how a relationship should proceed, you're not loving or respecting them. You're judging them.

I've been guilty of all these things myself.

I'm awake and writing this at 4 am because of one specific and painful betrayal, but this is not about one instance or situation. In the last year people in my life have divided themselves into two sharply differentiated groups. Those who know what love is and those who labor under a delusion that love is something it's not. Supportive friends span the spectrum from atheist to faithful follower of Christ but the cruel hurtful words have come from only one group. Can you guess what that is? [Hint: it's not the atheists.]

I wish I could develop a thicker skin when it comes to being betrayed by people I thought cared for me.

Scared

2011-03-28T12:40:00.000-07:00

I had a doctor's appointment on Friday, uh, long time no do that. I needed a referral to a GI so I can get this Celiac-do-or-don't-I thing cleared up (currently I am eating wheat and, meh, I don't really see much difference from when I wasn't). If I do have it, it's important to adjust my diet because of the long-term health effects but life is just so much easier when I don't have to worry about cutting out gluten.

What I wasn't expecting, however, was for the doctor to find a lump in my breast and refer me for a mammogram. She assured me that it was probably a cyst and nothing to worry about and I believed her. I wasn't worried. That was Friday morning. Before I left the doctor's office I had an appointment for today to get the mammogram/ultrasound. I was impressed, this place is so organized! It was at some point over the weekend that it occurred to me that maybe not everyone gets scheduled for testing the next business day.

Then I thought about the questions the doctor had asked me (Is there any history of Fibrocystic Breast Disease- a benign condition exacerbated by caffeine- in your family? Do you drink coffee? Cola?) and her careful lack of reaction when I answered in the negative to both of them. I hate coffee and I'm not much of a soda drinker. My only caffeine comes from tea and I don't even have that every day. When I informed the doctor of that I felt all warm and fuzzily self-righteous inside. I am a good dooby! I limit my caffeine intake and I floss!!! Except that of course there's nothing remotely self-sacrificing about me not drinking coffee, I just can't stand the taste. Upon further reflection though, I realized that the right answer would have been, "Yes Ma'am, I drink a gallon of coffee and I have three relatives with FBD!" Because that would make this much more likely to be a simple, benign cyst.

I did some Googling (I know! Best thing to do if you want to freak yourself out!) and found that cysts almost always occur in both breasts. As far as I can tell it's one of their defining characteristics. I only have one lump. Or, technically, I should say that I have two small lumps and one of them has an even smaller lump in it. Haha, tinyboob humor! So in less that three hours I'll be getting left lump squished and then possibly ultrasounded (I think they only do this if the other test is inconclusive, I hope they do 'cuz I'm totally going to ask the technician if it's a boy or a girl because I bet their jobs do not include enough humor). It's probably nothing. It's probably fine. But I can't help feeling a little greedy and resentful. All those years I was alone and no one depended on me; I would've been okay with going home then. You wouldn't do this to me now, God? Now that I have people who need me? Would you?

Update: It's a cyst (breathe). I'm fine. Thank you for your thoughts & prayers. :)

Lucky Doesn't Even Begin to Describe It

2011-03-28T09:00:00.000-07:00

I love having my own little family. I still have to pinch myself when I think of how much God's given me in the past year. After many years of searching and doubting that it would ever happen, I found the love of my life; the fact that he came complete with two beautiful kids who instantly accepted me as part of their lives with incredible grace and love is such a gift that I am humbled daily at the thought of it.

I want to be honest though, it's both better and harder than I ever could have imagined. I talk about all the good things often on this blog and I don't want it to turn into one of those "My life is perfect!" blogs. You know the ones I'm talking about- cute-as-a-button blogger has perfect marriage, lovely home, adorable children, nothing ever goes wrong. Not my thing, at all.

In the midst of all this joy is the daily grind of working out a relationship between two sometimes difficult people. Don't get me wrong- I will love Todd until the day I die (even if it's me who kills him. And for the record? Today while I was relaxing in the sun on our itty bitty balcony he snuck up and squirted me through the screen door with a water gun. So if I throttle him someday you'll know he deserved it) but skipping the dating/newlyweds/kid-free stage to jump right into an instant partnership was no picnic. We're both hot-tempered and used to being in charge. We're both know-it-alls who like to be right. Our first few months together where a whirlwind of highs and lows. I frequently threatened to leave and on occasion after a heated argument still run away from home (I've never gotten farther than the Borders near the mall, however. I like to threaten to visit my brother but we both know I just need to cool off for a few hours). Todd's the steadier one in our relationship, possibly because as crazy as I might be at times our relationship is the picture of health compared to his first marriage. We're happy, we're in love; but please don't think we don't have struggles.

I have no regrets about the way we did things. God was clearly leading us and He's been with us through all of the good and difficult times since then. I struggled a lot for a long time with the fact that we weren't married and life wasn't moving along on the schedule I'd envisioned. I experienced a lot of silence if not outright disapproval from a large part of the Christian communities I've been part of. It was hard and it really hurt. I spent a lot of time trying to make Todd do what I wanted him to do and be where I wanted him to be. Luckily for me, he's as stubborn as I am. I'm glad he stood up to me. I'm glad, in a lot of ways, that I lived through this last year as an outcast in the minds of people I used to be close with. I think it's exactly where God wanted me. Jesus lived on the fringes of society. I identify more with Him now than I ever could when I was keeping up appearances like a good church girl. That's not a bad place to be. When the time is right we'll get married and I'll probably have to listen to a lot of people "jokingly" say things like, "It's about time!" when they're really saying something crueler. And that's ok, even though it's not. I am not defined by what other people think of me.

Did I Forget to Tell You We're FAMOUS??!?!?!?

2011-03-25T15:47:00.000-07:00

Cuz we totally are. My awesome little brother Zach and his totally hot wife/filming assistant Christie came and made a movie for Zach's film class starring Todd, Stone, and in lesser roles, Daph & I.

It was pretty sweet, lemme tell you. We're petitioning for our own individual trailers for the next film. Todd demanded that his Reece's Pieces be separated by color into three separate bowls. There were no Reece's Pieces, as it turned out, but I'm pretty sure that's just because they bought us Girl Scout cookies afterwards. Come to think of it though, Zach did not separate the coconut from the chocolate in the Caramel DeLites* like I asked him to. I think I need an agent.

*I think this counts as false advertising- there is nothing "lite" about those cookies.

Anyways, here is the Masterpiece:

We all agreed that very little acting was required on the part of the two main actors.

p.s. Acting is hard, yo. After a week of delightfully springlike weather it was freezing that day. Also, Zach's site is over there (is it over there? I think I put it over there. I should check that.) on the right in my links. Check it out, he has some fun stuff. He's brilliant and I'm not at all biased just because I used to change his diapers.

Road Trip Tales: Run-ins with Johnny Law

2011-03-23T21:39:00.000-07:00

So you know about the Great Cross-Continental Road Trip of 2010, right? Wherein I flew home to RI for my grandmother's funeral and Todd drove up to my parents' house and said, "Hi, I'm the guy you've been flirting with online for five months. Wanna spend the rest of our lives together? Starting now? With a three-week road trip across the US with two kids and a total of five showers in all that time?" And I said, "Ayup, here's my suitcase."*

* Note: I am not in the habit of jumping into relationships in this admittedly crazy fashion. I swear. I can't speak for Todd but I just... knew. This was it. It'll make for a great story for the grandkids anyway. And by "great" I mean in a, "You probably shouldn't ever do this." sort of way.

The four of us traveled in Todd's minivan and to save money we only stayed at hotels once every few days. The rest of the time we camped out in the van, which was nice & roomy since Todd had shipped the middle row of seats with the rest of his belongings. One of these times we were driving somewhere in the south (Georgia, Alabama...Arkansas?) and decided late at night to pull over and sleep for a few hours before getting back on the road. We'd been driving for hours and were both pretty beat when pulled into the empty parking lot of a closed Wendy's in a big shopping center. The only activity was a few people unloading supplies into the rear door of the restaurant out of a big truck. After rousing the kids and getting them settled, we snuggled up in the space between seats with pillows and blankets and dropped off to sleep, only to be awakened a few hours later by someone rapping on our window.

We pried our eyelids open and groggily sat up. The man knocking on our window was a police officer. He wanted to "ask us some questions." It turns out that the back door of the restaurant had been wide open when the first employee arrived. She'd seen the open door, observed a carful of crazy crackers sleeping in the parking lot and, fearful that the place had been robbed, called the police. The officer knocking on our window in the early dawn seemed fairly sure that the owners of the van with military stickers hadn't brought their children along to rob a fast food joint and then decided to nap in the parking lot until the sun came up, but had to ask if we'd seen anything suspicious.

We told them about the delivery men unloading a Wendy's supply truck late the night before. Subsequently it was determined that said delivery men had simply neglected to close the door on their way out. Luckily, no Frosties (Frostys? Frosty's?) had been harmed, and after enduring many suspicious looks from the nervous Wendy's worker we clutched the shreds of our dignity around our pajamas and proudly limped (figuratively, of course, we actually drove) out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

A week or so later we were driving through Arizona when Todd became convinced that he had spotted what was surely an extremely valuable pair of binoculars at the fence line to the desert on the side of a highway exit. We pulled over to inspect what turned out to be an extremely valuable** plastic water bottle. **not really Just as we were coming to this conclusion a state trooper pulled off behind us with his lights flashing. The very young, very concerned policeman was very concerned that we'd pulled over and might be having car problems [I like to think he suspected us of picking up illegal Mexicans who'd just made a mad dash across the border, but we were somewhere near Flagstaff so I doubt it]. We assured him that we were fine and tried to explain about the water bottle/binoculars. He looked at us strangely. We grinned nervously. He sent us on our way.

We had lots of crazy adventures on that trip but since I didn't have internet access except for occasional hotel wifi I didn't do any blogging at the time. I really wish I had written things down; now I'm starting to forget a lot. For instance Todd and I both remember the Wendy's incident being even more singular than it would otherwise have been because it was the second unlikely interaction we'd had with law enforcement officers since leaving on the road trip. However, dagnab it if neither of us can remember what the first one was.

Unless it was that one time we both had a little too much tequila and Todd was seeing how fast the van could go while I hung Stone out the window by his ankles so he could, "feel the wind in his hair."...

Kidding, I'm kidding!!!

It was Daphne, not Stone.

Just Ducky

2011-03-22T22:18:00.000-07:00

ZOMG, internetz!!! You will never believe what happened today! So I believe I pointed out somewhere in this massive overload of information (Psst, second paragraph, don't tell nobody I tol' ya) that the deciding factor for us picking this apartment was the duck family then residing in one of the ponds. The kids were visiting their mom when we moved in but we couldn't resist the chance to surprise them with ducklings when we brought them to their new home.

Summer ended, fall came, and the ducklings grew up and moved on. A few weeks ago we were thrilled to see a new pair of mallards setting up housekeeping in the larger pond. During our frequent familial perambulations around the grounds of our "manor," there has been much speculation on where one would choose to build a nest in this area, were one a duck, that is. It has remained just that, however, speculation... until today. The old man & I were out for a lunchtime stroll and we noticed the duck pair sitting on a rock. We decided to run back home and grab some old bread to feed to them. Mr. Duck was certainly amenable to the idea and swam happily around gobbling up pieces of soggy bread. Mrs. Duck, however, declined to leave her rock, crouching (do ducks crouch?) tensely and quacking at us in a strangely agitated manner. I mentioned to Todd that the nest might be somewhere nearby and that's what was making her nervous. He turned around to jokingly look in the bushes behind us and lo and behold... a tidy nest with nine duck eggs was tucked into the bushes not three feet behind where we were standing. So Cool!!

Oh, also there was a prowling cat, which Todd chased away. It was one of the cats belonging to the sweet older man who walks his cats around the complex every day. Did I not mention him? Yes, I said walks his cats. No leashes, they just follow him. He turns when they lag behind and coaxes them along, calling out their names and talking to them as if they were recalcitrant children. It's ridiculously cute. Possibly not so good for ducklings though. Oi.

Yes, I'm the Crazy Neighbor Putting Leaves in a Plastic Grocery Bag.

2011-03-22T08:57:00.000-07:00

Eucalyptus trees were new to me when I moved to California. We didn't have them in New England, but they're everywhere here. They're really pretty and they smell great. There's a tree right outside our apartment that occasionally loses branches in windstorms, and a few times over the winter Todd and I collected the leaves and boiled them to make the house smell nice. When I had my holiday sinus infection I breathed in a lot of eucalyptus steam. It helped greatly even though I ultimately had to enlist the help of antibiotics to get rid of the infection.

Yesterday we were greeted on leaving for the school bus stop by a huge branch from "our" tree lying on the ground and yesterday must have been the gardener's day off because it was still there this morning. Todd and I went for a walk (more EXCITING news on that in next post) and on our return decided to collect some leaves. Thus it is that when our very nice, stylish European neighbor walked by I was squatting down with a plastic bag and hair that has not been washed in several days picking up leaves like a weird hobo with a eucalyptus fetish. She smiled politely anyway. Oh. I was also wearing a heavy wool coat buttoned up to the throat even though it's going to be 60 degrees today. Most Californians do not own anything warmer than a sweatshirt. They complain about being cold a lot.

Just wanted to confirm for anyone wondering that I am still a complete dork. :)

Spring Has Sprung

2011-03-10T14:46:00.000-08:00

It's springtime here in California. Don't hate me because I live here, oh New England friends. It's not my fault you're still surrounded by snow when I can hear birds chirping outside my window. You can't blame me for getting out the summer clothes and planning on wearing a short- sleeved shirt later today when it warms up... can you? If it makes any difference, Todd considers himself seriously deprived because of the lack of snow here and is determined on finding a way to attend Dartmouth so that we can move to New Hampshire next year. I keep trying to tell him that someone who declares "I shouldn't have to wear a sweater in my own house!" when I scolded him for turning the heat up while he was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt will likely not acclimate easily to New Hampshire winters but he's a stubborn one and may have to find out for himself.

Nevertheless here in the central valley entire orchards (chances are some of the the fruit and nuts in your grocery store come from right around here*) are gloriously awash in tiny pink or white blossoms. Todd and I went for a walk around our condo complex the other day after dropping the kids off at the bus stop and we saw two frogs in the pond. They were... making more frogs. Also we saw our resident Giant KoiTM and a pair of ducks who are hopefully (though not at that very moment) making more ducks so we'll have ducklings again in a few months. While the kids were gone over the weekend we saw five turtles, countless tiny koi plus the trademarked giant one, rescued two frogs from the swimming pool and saw several more frogs in the pond. Some of them were...making more frogs. Speaking of which I consider it my duty to educate you about the fact that apparently frogs can swim while they're...making more frogs. Stuck together, as it were. Todd and I accidentally startled one pair and then snickered like teenaged boys when they swam frantically away in tandem. Oh- we also saw lots of snails, though they're not as exciting since we see them all winter long. And a chicken!! but I'm getting ahead of myself.

* Yes, ha ha, we are all fruits and nuts here in CA. Now be quiet and stop bothering my grownup readers, DAD.

A few weeks ago we saw some sort of large bird of prey sitting in a tree visible from our balcony. It was, frustratingly, just close enough for us to figure that it was some kind of raptor without being able to see any more detail than that. I like identifying birds, so I was cursing the fact that we do not own a pair of binoculars. Earlier this week though, I saw the same bird fly out of a tree right over our heads while I was walking the kids to the bus stop. The tree was just a few yards away from the bus stop and it seemed like there was some sort of large nest being built. The bird flew back and forth a few times and gave a distinctive laughter-like cry. Clearly he was not happy about the humans under his tree.

I went home and did some googling and figured out that we have a Cooper's Hawk living on our street. This is the time of year they build a nest in order to start a family. T and I walked the kids to the bus yesterday and we saw one bird (sure enough there are two of them, though I haven't managed to see them closely enough to tell the male and female apart) fetching twigs for the nest. We went walking on the nearby bike path and we saw quite a bit of our new neighbors. They apparently hunt in the empty fields by the bike path where lots of plump and juicy ground squirrels live. I found a pellet on the ground under the nest this morning (hawks eat cute wittle fuzzy things whole and then hork up pellets containing fur, bones & other indigestibles, just like owls!) and was sharply reprimanded from above when I stopped to look at it. I plan to be on the lookout for a pellet that hasn't been trampled by schoolchildren so that we can take it home and dissect it with the kids because I am weird like that. I mean, scientific. I am scientifically inclined that way.

The chicken was a bit more confusing. We startled it poking (pecking?) around in a front yard a few houses down from the corner the bus stops at. It's an extremely suburban neighborhood, not the type of place you'd expect to see a chicken, but then we seem to attract them. Before I "met" them (in person) Todd and the kids had an abandoned chicken nesting in the basement well under their kitchen window in North Carolina. We ~~chicken-napped~~ compassionately relocated it to my uncle's house in South Carolina on the Great Cross-Continental Road Trip of '10, also known as "Our second date." Therefore clearly random ownerless chickens are draw to our family in some strange way. However we fear for this one's continued existence. You see Cooper's Hawks used to go by another name... Chicken hawks.

And Then I Punched Him

2011-03-01T14:25:00.000-08:00

Todd has this ~~adorable~~

~~quirky~~

~~somewhat-less-than-helpful~~

EVIL love for lying-in-wait in order to jump out and scare the ever-loving cream puffs out of me. When I get up first, he either puts the covers over his head, or artfully arranges the pillows so that it looks like he's put the covers over his head and hides in the closet. I know he's most likely in one of these places (though sometimes he finds a third place to hide just to keep me off-balance) but if I jump on top of the lumpy bed he he will invariably leap out of the closet and cause me to make noises that would lead one to believe that I am wetting myself in fear. [I am not, of course. I have excellent bladder control. My mother has been bragging for years about how I potty trained myself, instantaneously, at the age of two. Why it didn't occur to her that this might indicate some sort of control-freak issue I'll never know, but she sees it as a point of pride.] If I turn my head from the bed to investigate the closet he may well jump up from beneath the bedclothes and make me scream like the girl that I am. It's inevitable, even when I know perfectly well he's around the corner I can't help but yelp in momentary, inadvertent terror when he says, "Boo!" [I think that should be the chorus to a catchy 80's song: "I Can't Help but Yelp," except I can't think of many things that rhyme or how to work "whelp" into a pop song.]

The kids have now taken to "trying to scare Jess" as a favorite pastime. Their father is such a good example. One of these days though, I'm going to get them all back. I'll make them pee their pants in terror. Or I would... if I were not likely to be the cleaner-upper of the resultant pee-pants. Maybe I'll get revenge in some other way.

Wherein I Lose The Use of the Internet And Coincidentally Increase Tenfold in Productivity

2011-01-21T15:23:00.000-08:00

Last weekend the routermodemthingIprefernottothinkaboutbecauseIdon'tcarehowitworksIjustwantittowork went all wonky and Todd unplugged it and hooked it directly to his computer. My laptop was out of luck. Oddly enough, Todd did not seem to notice a problem with this. I tried using his computer but since it's set up with the tv as a monitor and there's nowhere to use the wireless keyboard except the floor, it was hardly worth the ergonomic effort. I'm not sure how he manages except that this is probably why he's had back problems for the last few months. Silly boy. the whole tv-as-monitor thing is very handy for watching The Office on Hulu, though.

All this to say that I was basically internetless for a week. Peoplez, you would not believe how clean my house is. I am 100% totally caught up on laundry and last night I made lasagna for dinner and then banana chocolate chip muffins after the kids went to bed. Some people might say that this combined evidence points to some sort of wildly far-fetched conclusion about the internet and wasting time. Poppycock.

Also, my story there didn't really have a point. I was just letting you know why I didn't post last week, but since whole months frequently go by in which I do not post you probably weren't really wondering.

Also, also, I have been reading Sex God* by Rob Bell. I know: snigger snigger. [Todd thought it was about him.]

If you go to the Amazon page you can read several reviews disapproving of the title. It's hard to tell if they're disappointed or relieved that it's not really about THAT. I liked it. It's about God and humanity and other heavy stuff but has a light and reader-friendly manner. Bell has this quirky writing/formatting style that I can't decide whether I like or not. Sometimes it really works and I admire his willingness to break out of the traditional mold, after all he's doing the same thing with the ideas he's writing about. Other times I find it really cutesy and annoying.

Hi! I'm Rob Bell.

And I write one sentence paragraphs!

All the time.

Look at me, look at me!

But then, Hi I'm Jess and I write a silly blog, look at me, look at me!!!! So there's that... Glass houses and everything.

But back to Sex God (snicker snicker). It wasn't earth shaking but it had some really good insights. I should perhaps write about it on the neglected WWJessD blog. [Which I would like to point out I am not neglecting because of my official status as a fallen woman, who is living in sin but because I am immensely lazy.]

While I am writing a post with no content whatsoever, I'd like to share that I've been reading books by Jim Wallis, who's this kinda wacky, out there, Christian-type person who insists that Christians should have a social conscience, of all things. In fact he goes so far as to suggest that it should be the defining mark of a follower of Christ. Crazy fellow. Also clearly a liberal sympathizer with heretical views. Probably a communist, like MLK. I like his stuff but it's kinda boring because I already agree with him on just about everything. I could think of some people I wish I could get to read him though~~, Dad~~.

Did I mention that I don't really have a point?

The end.

Droppy McDropperson

2011-01-13T09:49:00.000-08:00

Droppy McDropperson spilled the apple juice this morning and now the floor's all sticky. Droppy makes frequent appearances around here. Every time I sweep the floor I find another tiny shard of glass under the bookcase from one of the multiple items Droppy has shattered in the kitchen/dining area.

Droppy McDropperson is me, in case you haven't guessed. Todd started calling me that when I broke the third vase in two days after having several incidents that involved pumpkin pie filling and then applesauce landing in a wide radius on the floor/counters/me. I've always been a bit klutzy, but this is out of control. It's like the part of my brain that reacts without thinking to catch that falling item is broken. Thus I can see it happening in the same slow motion that kicks in in these situation, but instead of reacting I'm paralyzed into simply watching while thinking, "I should have been able to catch that, any normal person would be able to catch that." It's a bit disturbing.

Also yesterday I discovered (more than 24 hours after the fact) that I'd simply walked out of a restaurant (one three hours from home to boot- we were visiting family) without my purse. That would be the second time in six months that I've done that. Plus at least two or three times in the last few years before that. The people at the DMV just point and laugh now. I despair of me.

Thank God when I figured out it was missing and called the pizza place they said, "Yup, Droppy, we gots yer purse. Come'n get it." And furtherly blessedly, Todd's mom went out of her way to pick it up on her way home from work. I love that woman. Of course the last paragraph is just the official story. Truth is that I left it on purpose in order to bribe her to come visit us this weekend, but don't tell her. We're tricky like that.

In other news I heard a rumor that it's National Delurking Day. I'm not sure if this is true or not but I'm going to go with it because when a comment appears in my mailbox I jump up and down and do the happy hippy hoppy butterfly dance and then spin around doing jazz hands while shouting, "Hey Todd, Todd, I got a comment! I got a comment, Babe, aren't you happy?!?!? Somebody's reading my words! And they commented!! And it's not even my mom!! Do you think I'm the best blogger in the whole wide world or what?! Huh? Huh? HUH!!??!!??!?!" and then I do a little dance I made up while singing a song of my own composing about how much fun it is getting comments in which I compare new comments to "a summer's day," just like Shakespeare. And then I cry with happiness. And eat a cookie. Doesn't that sound like fun? So you should leave a comment. Especially if you don't usually. Especially if you moved further away from your beloved family and are thus responsible for me leaving my purse at Boston House of Pizza even though I didn't even have any beer. And then you should come visit. You know who you are.

Todd says "No comments please."

Ignore him.

Stuff & Nonsense and Bubby

2011-01-10T21:45:00.000-08:00

Update: I am trying to be a bigger person, even though it's really hard when you're barely 5 feet tall, and not say snarky things about Todd's ex-wife (at all, but especially here in public). I started off that way, see, I'd even argue her side with Todd, since I reasoned that he had way too much emotional baggage and history with her to be comepletely objective, but then there was nastiness (on both sides; "she started it" doesn't really work as an excuse if I want to be a grown-up and play nicely) and since the people at stake are two small helpless ones I'm very invested in protecting, lines can get easily blurred. But I really do want things to be as much like this as I'm able to make them, though obviously I can only work on my half of the relationship. So, apologies for the complaining. Now continue below to read my complaints about something completely different. :)

But that's all the complaining I have to do today. Except for a little bit more. About my sinus infection.

My faaace huuuurrrrts.

That is all.

Now back your regular scheduled program of hearing about my little Bubby's wedding.

Christy had just moved into the house she & Zach had found to rent when my whole (except for Dan, his two boys and his fiancee Brandie) fan-damily showed up in various increments around the bay area. Mom and Dad flew into San Jose. Dad was grumpy. I mean he is Grumpy, but he was actually grumpy. He often is, which is how he acquired the name Grumpy instead of grandpa. Libby, Neil and their kids flew into SF with Julie, Huw and my new niece that they made just for me and were bringing to California expressly for me to hold and love and squeeze and call her George!!! Georgia, I mean, cuz that's her name. A'hem. And also Katie! And also Sean! Because wow I have a lot of siblings!

Todd & the kids & I drove over from Modesto and joined in on descending en masse on the helpless Christy. She passed with flying colors, with only a brief motion to suspend her on the grounds that she is way too crafty and organized and good at remembering birthdays and makes the rest of us former and current Davenport ladies look bad. We are generous though, and decided to let her join the family on the condition that she bribe us each year with birthday presents. Even though we can't be bothered to buy them for each other. In my case, a birthday phone call on the right day is more than you're likely to get. No seriously though, Christy not only braved the horde of Davenports, she fit right in. She delights in small children and teases with the best of 'em.*

*We're a tease-y sort of family. If a Davenport doesn't tease you, it probably means he or she doesn't love you.

Now I have eaten my Cadbury egg (in January, people? Really?! And yet, witness me helpless to resist) in two bites and find myself a bit on the weary side so I'll save some more, um, wedding stuff to tell you later. Cuz there's plenty more stuff, I just can't think of it right now.

Where's the Love?

2011-01-09T01:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, peeplz, I write a drunken blog post and Lisa is the only one who manages to comment. You are. All. Fired.

Except Lisa, whom I love devotedly because she makes me feel good about myself my acknowledging my existence. And Jocelyn gets a pass too, because she's a in Turkey.

Furthermore, I still have this horrendous @#$%^er of a sinus infection because I am too cheap to go to a doctor and that means every time I clutch my cheek and moan, "My face hurts!" I have to listen to Todd say, "It's killing me!"

No, no, really he only did that once. And has the black eye to show for it.

If I am still alive on Monday I plan to call my insurance company and figure out an actual dollar amount it will cost me for someone to tell me what I already know and give me antibiotics. And then I will call 12 local doctors all of whom will tell me that since I am not their patient they ~~don't care~~ ~~are really busy~~ can't fit me in for two weeks and I'll end up paying $100 to go to the crappy urgent care place we took Daphne to when she broke her finger where they had a nurse practitioner look at the finger and then sent us to the hospital for x-rays then told us that they'd be closed for the next 24 hours and probably no one at the hospital would read the x-rays for us "so maybe sometimes tomorrow night we'll tell you whether it's broken or not, ttfn!" I want to move to Canada and pay really high taxes and have free healthcare.

Todd is standing over the sink right now setting fire to small scraps of paper and then frantically extinguishing them. He has some weird habits but he's cute so I guess I'll keep him.

No- haha- not really. I mean he is doing the thing with the burning and the paper. And he is cute. And I do plan to keep him. But he doesn't do this on a regular basis. We got pirate treasure for the kids for Christmas. Along with this book. Our master plan of making clues and a map to lead them to the designated hiding spot (containing a tiny wooden chest that someone gave me with tea in it years ago and I never got rid of because wouldn't it be perfect for a pirate's treasure chest!?! plus awesome flea market finds of a bejeweled gold serpent bracelet and a ruby-eyed snake ring and other pirate-treasure-y things) combined with wacky crazy holiday madness and biting off more than we could chew to produce the slightly post Christmas gifttm, which then progressed to the when they get back from visiting their mother for the holidays gifttm to the OMG we have to stay up all night composing wittily rhymed clues and writing painstakingly-pirate-styled missives to hid all over the house so we can give it to them tomorrow!tm gift. All of that should make perfectly clear why my beloved has now progressed to chewing tiny pieces of paper off the edges of scraps of parchment-like paper and has the gleam of madness in his eye. Authenticity, people, it's all about authenticity.

If I could find my camera battery charger I could take pictures and make a really awesome blog post about our treasure hunt. Just sayin'.

Oh yes! I was going to talk some ore about Zach & Christy's wedding when I got distracted by the smell of burning paper. But now I'm too tired and icky feeling to do anything to go to bed. Plus also I'm virtual pouting* in order to get more ~~attention~~ comments. Hmph.

*That's where I make you read long nonsensical posts that end with an intriguing question which you cannot resist answering in the comments section.

p.p.s. If you were a pirate, what would your pirate name be?

Bonus question: What if Todd chose me solely for my skill in composing rhyming clues and speaking in pirate talk? How can I ever be sure he loves me for me?

Talk amongst yourselves.

Zach and Christy

2011-01-06T01:06:00.000-08:00

So my baby brother went off to war around the time I moved to California, 'member? I was proud of him and scared for him and very, very glad when he came back home. He heeded my big sisterly advice (completely altruistically given, I assure you) and moved to the bay area where I promptly began telling everyone that my wittle bruvver Zach, who's diapers I had changed as a young girl, was coming to meet them. In this way I paved the road for Zach's California social life and to that I credit the fact that Clay Woosely* yelled out, "Go BuBBY" at Zach's wedding reception last month.

* At least I think it was Clay. And I applaud him for it. Thank you, sir.

It was not long before the exclamations of, "Oh, you're Jess's brother!" became replaced by, "Aren't you Zach Davenport's sister?"

Who's a popular guy & has two thumbs???

If you don't know the answer to that, you've never met Zach. I gladly handed my roster of friends over to Zach but something was missing in the young lad's life.

Around this time I met a really cool girltm named Christy at post-church lunch and we bonded over the fact that we both have blogs and like to make things with glue and popsicle sticks and glitter (not always in the same project though). I wish I could say I had my eye on her from the start but lucky for her (and the rest of my siblings) I'm no Emma Woodhouse and Zach spotted her all on his own just a short time later. As soon as they officially started dating I ~~horrified~~ delighted them both by demanding that they immediately get married and start make west coast nieces and nephews for me. No, really, this is the actual text of the email

Dear Christy,

No pressure or anything, but would you think about marrying my brother? I know you've only been dating for 2 days but you would make an extremely awesome sister-in-law.

I'm, like, the best big sister ever, no? Well it took them a while. First they were all dating... and then they were all engaged... and then finally they made it official. Since my plan of attack is to meet a stranger on the internetz, chat him up for a few months and then meet and immediately move in and set up housekeeping with said stranger and his two children, I have little patience with that old fashioned notion of getting to know each other. Sheesh, if Todd and I would never have ended up together if we'd gotten to know each other first!! [Kidding- I'm kidding! He loves it when I nag/order him around/smack him in the face when he's sleeping and he finds my snoring adorably endearing!]

I digress though, I was talking about Zach and Christy, who after all deserve props for doing it right i.e. maintaining the proper order of things such as 1. Meeting in person 2. Dating 3. Getting engaged 4. Getting married 5. Cohabitrailing- or wait, maybe that's hamsters- anyway they got hitched is what I'm trying to say here. I don't have any pictures of the lovely event because Todd hid my camera battery or maybe I lost it so I am effectively camera-less until it turns up. But I will tell you about it.

Zach looked resplendent and Christy looked so beautiful that a fight broke out among the ushers because they wanted to marry her themselves. Just kidding, that didn't happen but I'm pretty sure it's only because some of them were her brothers and the rest were already married. Totally could've happened under different circumstances* she looked that pretty.

*Probably best that it didn't anyway.

Tomorrow I'll tell you more about the wedding and how California was swamped by Davenports and will never be the same. And by tomorrow I mean not in three minutes which will literally be tomorrow but sometime in the far off fuzzy future when I am inspired by Todd's being addicted to Ebay and thus really boring sometimes, and my being slightly inebriated* to write more on this here blog.

*I don't suppose I can really call this drunk blogging since I may have had a tiny amount of alcohol left in my system when I started this post but that was hours ago because I have to check Facebook every five minutes to see if people still like me and plus I burned most of it off cleaning the bathrooms. Man, those bathrooms are clean.

As Promised: More Stuff!

2010-12-31T18:58:00.000-08:00

Todd scolded me for what he called "an unsatisfying blog post" the other day. Well okay, he didn't really scold as much as comment. But he's right. I need to get back on the literary wagon, so to speak, and stop writing half-formed boring posts about nothing.

As my first topic I'm going to talk about the kids, because they're not here this week and we miss them. They're brilliant, charming and gorgeous to behold, of course. Doesn't every parent think that about his/her own child? But also? They're pretty frickin' hilarious. Stone (i.e. Mr. Personality) keeps us in stitches. Daphne is a fair bit more... ladylike and usually serves as his straight man. She's gotten really good at rolling her eyes. Here are some recent gems:

Scene: Kids' room. Stone is getting dressed.

Jess: [suspiciously, eyeing pajama bottoms sans underpants on floor] Stone, did you put clean underpants on when you changed?

Stone: [enthusiastically] Yeah!! I did!

Todd: You did?

Stone: [nodding emphatically] I did!

Todd: Where are the dirty ones?

Stone: [His most sincere winning smile plastered to his face as he nods] I put them in the hamper!!!!!

Todd: Show me.

Stone: Okay! ... Um.... Uh...OK....Nooo... maybe I didn't...

Overheard from the kids' room:

Daphne (somewhat horrified) "Did you really swallow that?"

Stone (excitedly) "Yeah I really did! I swallowed it! And then I burped it out!!!"

I don't even want to know.

Daphne: (accusingly) Sto-one, did you wash your hands?

Stone: Yes!

Jess: You weren't in there very long.

**calculating silence...wheels turning, gears grinding etc.**

Stone: I washed them WHILE I was using the bathroom!

Daph & Jess: *facepalm*

Stone: Hey guys! We were wrestling and I made Daphne say uncle, AGAIN!! How can a small brother make a big sister say uncle two times in a row??!?!?!?!

Me: I guess you're just a really good wrestler, Buddy.

Stone: Nah, I think it's 'cuz of my fat belly from breakfast.

Stone: "Dear God, thank you for the good food and the bestest family ever. And... and soon Christy's gonna marry Zach and then she'll be our sister! Amen."

Stone [apropos of I can't remember what]: Daphne run, Daddy has a knife!!!

It's like a circus around here, really. And it's great.

Oh, Mah Toof

2010-12-31T10:33:00.000-08:00

I had a head cold last week. It was an unpleasant time to be sick, especially since a lot of our Christmas projects were put off until the last minute. But I drank lots of OJ and a few days after Christmas the cold started to abate. Cue sinus infection. sigh

The pain has resolved itself into my upper jaw (think toothache) and seems to be settled in to stay. Also? It's a holiday weekend and I don't have a doctor in Modesto. Yay! I've been taking decongestants and doing sinus rinses and chugging tea and breathing in steam from boiled eucalyptus leaves but nothing really helps the pain.

None of this is very interesting, I know, and for that I apologize. At least I didn't ask you to read the multi-page document I composed (for posterity, and Lisa) detailing my history of supposed Celiac disease.

I promise I will post something more interesting before the holidays officially come to an end (around here that would be the 2nd week of January, when the kids come home from their mother's house and go back to school).

In the meantime please watch this horrifying video of what would happen if we outlawed guns and criminals had to rob convenience stores with sticks. No laughing please, this is a serious matter.

Merry Merry

2010-12-25T23:42:00.000-08:00

It is still Christmas right? Yeah, ok, less than an hour to go. Today was a good, good day. And the last weekend and months have also been good. Life has been hard at times, but also drenched in goodness so sweet that I can hardly taste the bitter. My brother got married. I have a tiny new niece. My perfect little oddball family had its first Christmas together. Also, I am back to not eating gluten. Which Lisa wants to hear about. Which I kind of want to write about because it's a big deal in my life right now, but also not because it's boring and slightly depressing since I haven't seen any benefits yet, just deprivation (Oh- the woe of her that cannot eat bread).

There's also lots of other more int'restin stuff that I want to tell you about* too but I can't find the time! I don't have a job right now and it seems to me that I should have time to do all kinds of things because I'm a New Englander, dammit and we work hard and get stuff done and are never behind and I guess that's why I never really fit in there, huh? I have to keep telling myself that this is my job right now, and I don't have to feel guilty because I'm not looking for work. Between laundry & making sure the the kids are properly fed/clothed & Christmas & traveling back and forth to San Jose & trying to fed three people a glutinous diet while avoiding it myself (or alternatively planning gluten free meals for four) & figuring out how this I-am-partnered-with-you-for-life-OMG-Yay!-WTF?!-wait-how-is-it possible-that-you're more-stubborn-than-I-am? & trying to organize/keep the house clean... I just don't seem to have a lot of free time these days. I probably could spend less time Facebooking though, *ahem.* Yes, it's a verb.

I will tell you all about it, I promise, just not right now. Right now I'm sick and severely sleep deprived and I need to go to bed. Goodnight, blogworld. And Merry Christmas.

*like examples of how the kids keep us rolling, either on the floor laughing, or our eyes in exasperation. Or how weird and cool it was to have so many of my family members in California for the wedding. Or how much I like Todd's mom and brother and how lucky I feel to have in-laws I genuinely want to hang out with. Or how God is trying to untwist something that's been twisted up way too tight in my heart for a long long time and how it's not a very comfortable process but I'm glad of it, because it's time. Or about the delightfully nerdy ('hem, I mean academic) theology blog I am currently obsessed with. Or how squishy and warm and perfect my new niece is and how I can't decide if I love babies enough to have one that I can't give back when I get bored but I sure do like having the loaners in the meantime.

One Year Ago Today

2010-12-17T07:49:00.000-08:00

December 17, 2009.

The setting: A snowy Rhode Island, my sister Lib's house.

The mood: Low, very low. Depressed, lonesome in a way only the holidays + a recent breakup can inspire, and flat out of hope.

I got a FB message from a stranger. It said this:

Hey, I read some of your posts on Blogger and really enjoyed the way you wrote, kind of funny and witty, and a bit truthful and heart felt. I guess it's also the way you can set a tone, and get a reader enveloped in what it is you're trying to say while using a pretty decent vocabulary without ever sounding stuffy. I always feel like I'm prying into someone's personal life or reading their diary with a blog, but I was wondering if you write anywhere else on the net. Do you ever write fiction? Thanks. -Todd.

One year later, I sit across the room from him. The kids are sleeping peacefully and the lights from our Christmas tree twinkle behind me. Our first holiday season as a family has been wonderful. Tomorrow we'll celebrate my brother's wedding to a wonderful woman with the rest of my family. The kids will play delightedly with their (unofficial) cousins. I'll get to hold my newest niece. I will laugh with my crazy family and wonder, one again- How is it possible for one person to be so blessed? And I will feel my Father's extravagant love surrounding me and laugh at the way He worked out this plan for my life, and how little I trusted Him.

Oh, My Heart

2010-11-29T20:46:00.000-08:00

Oh internets, I am so sad. A wonderful woman whose kids I used to nanny for lost her battle with cancer today. Her daughters are in high school now and I'm so glad she had the extra years with them that treatment afforded her. But it's so heartbreaking to think of them without her, and their father, losing his best friend. It hurts more now that I know what they're losing. I can see why people would think being alone in the world is a better choice than loving people you might lose. I don't know how I would go on if I didn't believe that the end of this life is not the end, but the beginning of something far greater.

Thanks

2010-11-29T20:41:00.000-08:00

You guys, I had the best Thanksgiving evaar.

The Saturday night before, with the kids, we had a mini rotisserie turkey breast plus other fixin's that I bought from the store instead of cooking. It was simple and last-minute and when we each took a turn saying what we were thankful for Daphne said, "I'm thankful that Jess is part of our family." And then I died of happiness because I so do not deserve everything I've been given.

Sunday the kids went to their mom's for the week.

Wednesday Todd and I cleaned the holy hell out of the apartment and then went out and finally acquired some couches. We have been sitting on the removable minivan seat and our one easy chair up until now. Also lots of pillows and the floor.

By the time T's mom and brother arrived late Thursday afternoon our little place looked homier than ever. It's amazing what a couch, loveseat & coffee table/decrepit antique steamer trunk can do for a living room. We built a fire in the fireplace, I made fried rice with orange chicken (thank you, Trader Joe's) and we spent the evening talking, laughing and watching a perfectly horrendous movie that traumatized every single one of us for life. You don't even want to know what it was, believe me. Then we laughed some more about the movie and how dumb we were to watch it knowing how awful it would be. Then Todd and his mom competed for who could say the most inappropriate thing. Todd won. His mom apologized to me for creating a monster but I told her it is natural for an exceptionally gifted student to surpass even his teacher and when it comes to making inappropriate jokes Todd is unrivaled. That's why I like him so much. I secretly enjoy making angry eyebrows and giving stern disapproving looks while I'm laughing on the inside.

Friday Todd and I (after a sputtering start in which Todd asked if I had started on the turkey and I told him snottily that if he wanted to feed his relatives that was no concern of mine and why didn't he start the turkey) jointly made a delicious Thanksgiving feast consisting of turkey, (awesomely) mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry glop, corn and (wait for it) brussels sprouts. I ate all of it, even the vegetables. Apparently if you drench anything in bacon it tastes at least 20 times better. Then we ate pie, sat around and clutched our stomachs and moaned, watched Harvey, and had jolly adult conversations that we couldn't have had with the kids around. All in all if we had to be apart from the kids on Thanksgiving it was lovely to be able to appreciate it with some grown up time. Of course, T and I never quite managed to get our planned "date night" in but the trade off (couches) was totally worth it.

Saturday night the kids came home and our wee family was reunited.

Saturday we rested and thought about how good life is just now.

30 Days of Truth, 20/21: Drunk History

2010-11-24T12:33:00.000-08:00

Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
+
Day 21 → What historical figure would you like to meet?

= What historical figure would you like to meet on drugs and alcohol?

I like drunk historians. Like these. *warning, vile language and graphic imagery, including drunk puking, is involved, but it's totally worth it.*

30 Days of Truth, 19: Religion and Politics. Really?

2010-11-24T12:29:00.000-08:00

Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?

I love God. I love Jesus. I do my best to live my life in a way that makes my father glad. I trust him for everything and I cling to that trust & love like it's the only thing keeping me afloat in an unfriendly ocean. Many times it has been. I try to share that love with everyone I come into contact with, with varying degrees of success. I live in the freedom of his love, which is how I believe I'm supposed to live. If by religion you mean a community of people who care for each other then I'm all for it. If however, you mean a community of people whose main purpose is to project an appearance of keeping up a certain set of standards and following a certain set of rules then I'm not so much a fan.

As for politics, I tend to fall slightly to the liberal side of center but I don't care much about policy or budgets. I don't feel like being uber-politically aware is part of my job here. After all Jesus never voted.*

*Choir: But he didn't live in a democracy!!!!! If Jesus lived in America he'd have an SUV and a mortgage and he'd vote republican!!!!

Solo: No. He'd be homeless. He'd have dirty feet. He wouldn't spend most of his time hanging out in churches. And he'd love everyone, even if they didn't fit the mold**.

**See first paragraph, last sentence.

I Need to Make Me Some Dayum Friends

2010-11-19T22:56:00.000-08:00

I like Modesto. When you say "I'm moving to Modesto" to people in the SF bay area, my home for the last 5 years, they generally wrinkle their noses like something smells funny and roll their eyes in mock horror and sympathy. But then the bay area is really snooty and snobby (not my friends, of course, but the area in general*) and I never really felt like I fit in there anyway, so I don't have a problem admitting that I like Modesto. Even though there are only 23 Starbucks locations and some of the playgrounds have missing equipment and instead of paying immigrants to clean my house I live in the apartment next door to them and send my kids to school with theirs.

*And still I feel the need to point out that I know many, many wonderful people, both with money and without, in the bay area and I'm not talking about any of them. Do you hear me people who read my blog? I swear on all that it holy that I am not talking about you so please stop being offended. There's this.. attitude... of keeping up a certain standard and that's what I'm referring to. I was just as much a slave to it as anyone else when I lived there.

So I like it here, but I'm not sure how to fit in here any better than I did in San Fransiscan suburbia. When the other moms wear pajamas to the bus stop, the need to keep up a bay area appearance (My version of this consists of putting pants on and occasionally wearing a bra. Also I glance in the mirror to make sure my hair isn't sticking up. This would not actually fly in Palo Alto or Cupertino but it makes me feel really fancy and overly fussy here in Modesto) doesn't exactly aid one in making friends. The other day we were late for the bus and the bus driver scolded me for not being at the bus stop 5 minute early. It was kind of demoralizing, but due to my humiliation I had an entire conversation about bus times with the woman who normally avoids eye contact with me. I was so excited- maybe we can be friends and braid each others hair and have slumber parties!! But today she ignored me again and talked on her phone so she wouldn't have to interact (I am pretty sure that was the reason she was talking on her phone because the world is all about me and surely she cannot have had anything legitimate to talk on the phone about no that would be ridiculous) with me just because I was wearing pants. The fact that the kids were in pajamas and bathrobes apparently did nothing to balance this out.

It was pajama day at school.

Normally I make them wear clothes.

**

I don't want to be a snob. I don't think I'm better than anyone else. But I am shy and awkward and weird in new places & with new people and I am further unsure about my present precarious perch on the societal ladder. I am a stepmother in practice but officially they're just "my boyfriend's kids." I feel the need to casually work the fact that I am not their biological mother- that they have a biological mother and I'm not it- into conversations with teachers, school secretaries, neighbors... everyone, really. Then I feel oddly ashamed of the fact that I'm attending parent-teacher conferences/ talking to teachers about homework/making doctor's appointments for them because who do I think I am. This makes me even more awkward and weird and I usually end up walking away from conversations feeling like I convinced the person I was talking to not to be my friend.

It sucks.

I love my perfect little family. But I need some outside friends. Do you live in Modesto? Do you wanna be my friend? I braid some mean hair.

Da Stomach Monster

2010-11-15T20:57:00.000-08:00

At long last, I give you Todd in his internet debut:

See the reasoning behind this madness here.

30 Days of Truth, 18: 'Cause I Said So

2010-11-14T20:14:00.000-08:00

Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.

Oh yay- controversy!!! Or not. Because I'm not really in the mood to make a bigger deal about this than I feel it ought to be. People who love each other and want to get married should be able to. That's all I got to say about that.

30 Days of Truth, 17: Read to Change

2010-11-14T18:02:00.000-08:00

Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.

I'm supposed to pick just one? I love to read. Anybody who knows me knows this. I stuck mainly to fiction growing up but at some point when I was in my twenties I discovered that well written non-fiction* can be as gripping as the best novels. I read everything- biography, anthropology, sociology, history, medical narrative, essays, true crime, theology... I especially love books where the author delves into an obscure subject and makes it fascinating to me. Parrot behavior, anyone? The world of orchid enthusiasts? How about the Great Hurricane of 1938?

Entering another world by reading a good book is always wonderful. But I think the greatest thing about being a reader is the opportunity it offers to learn. I've learned as much through reading as I have through living. I've learned a lot more through living because of what I learned from books. I've read many, many books that changed my opinions, or ideals, or the way I see the world, but I think the one I want to write about today is Soul Survivor by Philip Yancey. I mentioned it here with the intention of going on to list other books that had influenced me, but of course I never got around to it (I do that. I'm one of those people who puts things off. I'm pretty sure there's a word for that. I plan to look it up, later.).

Yancey's one of those incredibly rare Christian writers who writes with complete honesty. He disregards the taboos and sacred cows of cultural Christianity to ask the questions one seldom hears in church. I should clarify that Yancey's disregard is never for the people who hold these ideas sacred. He asks uncomfortable questions, but in a gentle respectful manner, with complete honesty regarding his own failings and always holding himself accountable for their answers. I want to be like him when I grow up.

Soul Survivor was an eye-opening read for me. I've found that in my experience, people like MLK jr. and Ghandi are ignored by Christians or, worse held in mild contempt. They didn't fit into the proper mold and therefore had little of value to add to any discussion of theology or life. Yancey takes 13 people who influenced him and explains what it was about the subject's life or actions or beliefs that caught his attention, and allowed him to emerge from a deep-south-fundy upbringing with his faith in God intact.

Read it. It's good.

*Obviously fiction is more enjoyable if it's well-written, but I find that fiction writers can sometimes get away with atrocious writing if their stories are good enough. Witness the many best-selling authors who will never be considered in literature classes.

I Fail at NanoBloMoPoFo-whatever

2010-11-09T21:52:00.000-08:00

I can't even finish the last 30 Day prompt, even though, or perhaps because I've already written several paragraphs. They bore me. I am bored. I do not feel like writing. I have to much to do. November is a bad month for NANOWRIMO. Plus Todd hasn't written anything in days so ppffffttt.

In other exciting news though, today I had 2 cavities filled and then ran out of gas. It was harrowing, but not so much that I couldn't go to the local kids' consignment shop and score some sweet deals on pants for the extra-short people. Now that they have more than 2 pairs that fit I can transition to only doing laundry every other day.*

Well, bleepity bleep. I just erased three paragraphs and Blogger ~~helpfully~~ ~~immediately~~ automatically saved the post so I can't hit undo. I'm not writing all that again. Didn't I just tell you I don't feel like writing? Geez... Anyway, to sum up we put a lot of gas in the car Saturday night and then the gas gauge was broken but apparently we didn't and it wasn't or something because although we drove the rest of the way home and ran errands for a few days, today when I left the dentist although I should have had at least half a tank I barely managed to coast into a gas station- hoping the problem was fuel related and not something more ~~expensive~~ dire. It took 12 gallons to fill my tank up. I have a 10 gallon tank.

Also I ate a bunch of the kids' Halloween candy after they went to bed in spite of the fact that I've had five cavities filled in the last month and still have to go back for five more. Getting old sucks.

*Oddly enough- because it's me, remember?- I'm not complaining. I've always kinda liked laundry and now that I'm doing a whole bunch of other people's in addition to my own, I kinda like it even more.

In Which Todd Is Left To His Own Devices and Gets into Mischief

2010-11-04T21:03:00.000-07:00

So I've been working on a prompt which, frankly, is boring even though I feel that it really shouldn't and I'm just stuck. So today I was staring at the computer screen when I realized, "Hmmmm, I haven't heard Todd for a while. I wonder what he's doing." Our dwelling place is rather cozy for four people and while the kids flit in and out of their room, the living room and outside, Todd and I can generally be found in the living/dining room/kitchen area in the afternoon. It's not often that he disappears for long but I remembered him saying something about taking a shower so I didn't give it too much thought.

Then I got and headed toward the hallway for some reason I ~~forgot~~ ~~before I got halfway to where I was going~~ don't remember now and all of a sudden a strange apparition jumped out at me...

Guess who had found the Halloween face paints in the bathroom and decided to draw an elaborate face on his stomach and chest? Let me tell you, if you've never seen a half-naked man dancing around in his camouflage underwear (I bought them for him, I couldn't help it) with a giant crazy face drawn on his torso you haven't lived. When I stopped laughing I forced him to let me take a video of The Stomach Monster and then he proceeded to make "stamps" by mashing the ~~flab~~ muscular manliness against closet doors, chest-bump style before I gave him my stern look and ordered him to take a shower. When he got out, there was a Stomach Monster imprint on the shower wall.

Now generally it's when the children are too quiet that one needs to worry, but not me. Noooo, not me. This man will inevitably drive me crazy, but it sure will be a fun ride.

30 Days of Truth, 16: Do Without

2010-11-02T23:05:00.000-07:00

Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.

There are plenty of things I could live happily without. There are also plenty of things I'd love to get rid of that I probably couldn't live without. I don't want to live with worry or pain, but I know that I need them to survive. Broccoli, however is one thing I'm fairly sure I could manage without. If the world ran out of broccoli and no more was to be forthcoming, ever; I think I'd be okay with that. Yup, pretty sure. Now pie on the other hand....

------------------ 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of NANOSHMOBLO...PO: The Fifteenth. Or Whatever

2010-11-01T22:46:00.000-07:00

Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.

So yeah, I'm supposed to be doing NANOWRIMO* ~~except without the annoyingly perky email updates~~ this month, in addition to the blogging one, which has an entirely different but still stupid acronym. But I'm still only halfway through the 30 days of truth so I'm going to combine them into one really all-over-the-place mishmash. You know, like usual.

Todd and I decided to to NNWM* because we both want to practice writing and we both need a kick in the pants. Or a dumb acronym. I dunno. Also it's almost 10 pm and neither of us has been spotted jotting a single word of fiction yet today. So... we'll see how that goes.

*shortened. I'm so not typing that out every time I refer to it. You know what? Maybe we'll just go with NN, because why make it more complicated than it has to be?

I'm supposed to be writing about something I tried to live without and can't. There's only one obvious answer to that for me: There was a time when I felt certain that I was not worthy of God's love or attention. I was bitter and angry and hurt by my own perceived failures and experiences with the church and I was ready to take the whole thing and be done with it. God, religion, Christianity, trying to live up to some impossible standard, trying to be someone I wasn't- I tried to turn my back and walk away from all of them, because I was unable to separate them into separate and distinct categories. All of those latter things held me only with chains of guilt, they weren't holding onto me, I was holding onto them. God held me with something much stronger; with the strongest thing that exists.

I never really knew God until I tried to run away from him. All my life had been spent doing the right things, being the good one, the responsible one. All my life had been spent trying to earn God's approval in the ways I was taught, by the system I grew up in, were the only ways to know God. I was hunched over a tiny airless box that everyone insisted contained God, clutching it and talking to it and berating myself when it did not answer. All the time God was everywhere, all around me, trying to love me in spite of my insistence on telling him he was in the box and my pretense that I was good enough for him to love. Finally I broke. My box shattered and my mask fell off and I found myself running, terrified, in a dark, confusing place.

It was the moment he'd been waiting for. He chased after me. He tackled me as I headed into the darkness and held me while I beat my fists against him and screamed at him, until finally I melted into his embrace, and then he carried me back to safety. And I knew, then, that he'd never loved me because I was good. How could he have? Did I really think I could fool God with a mask of proper behavior?!

My God told me he loved me in spite of my facade, not because of it. He saw me and not only did he still love me, he always had. He was just waiting for me to let go of the box and listen to him telling me how beloved I was to him. He was willing to run into the darkness after me and bring me back, even though I was the one running away from him. He was not willing to let me be lost. The strongest thing that exists in this world is love. It is stronger than hate or fear, stronger than evil, stronger than death. And I could never live without it.

30 Days of Truth, Day 14: I Made Up This Question, In Case You Couldn't Tell

2010-10-30T23:54:00.000-07:00

Day 14 → Did you really hot glue seashells to the toilet? Also, how did you learn such mad decorating skillz. Did you go to school for that?

I really did it. They didn't stay there for long, of course, because the kids couldn't resist touching them and hot glue is useless on non-porous surfaces. But that's okay, because now I can dust and then glue them back on.

I am just naturally awesome at anything involving ~~astheti~~ ~~esthetic~~ things that look purty. It's like I was born with this gift. On the topic of decorated toilets, today Todd and I saw a clip of some weird web show involving very disturbed/disturbing people who were peddling their freaky Halloween-themed wares at some sort of show. One man had a sort of tattoos for toilets thing going on. His designs were completely gross (I mean, like, because they were supposed to be, not because he wasn't talented- it take a special kind of talent to specialize in painting fecal matter), but Todd immediately questioned why no one had thought of decorated toilets before. Within minutes we were hatching plans to start a decorated toilet business that would take the world of bathroom decor by storm. But it turns out that we're not really onto anything new. It doesn't seem to be catching on, but that's probably because that silly ceramics woman hasn't tried gluing seashells to the back of the toilet. Yet.

Why Yes, I DID Hot-Glue Seashells to the Toilet

2010-10-26T09:45:00.000-07:00

It's time for Jess's decorating advice!!! Gather 'round, children, I am about to impart wisdom the likes of which you have never heard before. If you're lucky, you will never hear it again, but if you keep reading my blog I can't make any promises.

We are currently rockin' a seaside theme in our half bathroom. Lest you ~~hold me responsible~~ give me any credit, let me point out that it was all Todd's idea. He swears I have an evil agenda to throw away all of his stuff. This is so not true, I only want to throw away the ugly stuff. Can I help it that he is a boy and lacks my superior aesthetic skills? No, I certainly can't. And also (while we're on this topic) have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous as a man wanting an equal amount of closet space as a woman? I keep telling him that if he wants me to look nice, wear makeup, etc. (I'm up to almost once a week now!) he has to understand that it's my right as a woman, indeed my duty, to have more shoes than him. I do not understand why he cannot see my point. But! I digress. We were talking about the bathroom. There are shells and stuff. Like this:

And I had a bunch left over at the end that were too heavy to put in the net. But I knew that if I didn't use them somehow Todd would accuse me of hating his stuff and making him get rid of it while keeping all of my useless craft items. So I combined the two. Reader, I certainly did. I got my handy mini glue gun out and I glued seashells to the back of the toilet. I hope he's happy.

30 Days of Truth, 13: Sad

2010-10-25T22:19:00.000-07:00

Day 13 → A prompt I do not care for so I willz replace it.

I've been really down lately. Nothing new is happening but everything seems so much harder. I think I've just had an ~~epif~~ ~~epiphin~~ ~~epifuny~~ really smart* idea about why. This Friday is my birthday. It's also Daphne's birthday. In all the excitement and planning for Halloween and parties I neglected to connect the fact that it is also my grandmother's birthday. It would have been her 90th birthday.

Mimi was the matriarch of our family, with twenty children and twenty great-grandchildren. She is very much missed but in the whirlwind that was flying home for her funeral/meeting Todd and the kids/driving back across the country with them and moving and all the rest of the changes that were taking place in my life just then I didn't really have the emotional space to properly mourn her. I had intermittent crying fits at random gas station stops at various points across the country but I've lived far away for so long that it still doesn't seem real most of the time. I hadn't seen my Mimi in over a year. I miss her.

So I think I'll give myself the space to be sad and be okay with that. I had the best grandmother anybody could have asked for. She always smelled lovely, she gave the greatest hugs anyone has ever given, and she was beautiful, inside and out. She was wonderful, I miss her, and I'm sad that I never got to tell her about Todd, and Stone, and Daphne, who shares our birthday. And that's a pretty good reason to be sad.

* Yes, that's S-M-R-T smart!

30 Days of Truth, 12: Um, Uncomplimentarity?

2010-10-25T15:38:00.000-07:00

<Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.

It's weird, really, but few people seem to notice or see fit to comment on my humble and retiring nature. Or on how I manage to remain calm and unruffled when I am hungry/tired/stressed/Tuesday.

Also- are these writing prompts getting stupider or am I just getting tired of this?

------------------ 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, Day 11: Complimentary

2010-10-25T15:08:00.000-07:00

Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

My humble demeanor and towering stature?

Or is it the other way around?

Maybe those aren't compliments...

;)

------------------ 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, 10: Letting Go

2010-10-24T23:20:00.000-07:00

Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.

Oh... this is a hard one. It's so hard I don't really want to talk about it because it's a bit too real, a bit too immediate, and it encompasses too many people. I've lost a lot of friends over the last few months, due to a combination of geography and complicated church politics. The one person I knew in Modesto just moved away. She was in transition too and now she's moved away. I'm happy for her but feeling bereft. I am not good at keeping up long distance relationships. I need face-time, and phone conversations just don't really cut it for me. I have no friends here.

When I decided to move in with Todd, some of my Christian friends and acquaintances were convinced that it was their duty to reject me for my own good. Most of them will be polite to my face, but I am no longer one of them. I am outside the circle. I would be allowed back in if I repented, and then either broke up with Todd or got married. Barring that, however, I will never again be part of the circle. I know I am being talked about. My choices do not fit into their boxes and it cannot be allowed to sit just outside of them. It makes them uncomfortable. I make them uncomfortable.

Of course I have many friends who defended and stood by me. And many more who thought I was doing the wrong thing and still stood by me. For the most part, I don't blame the people who didn't because I know what it's like on the inside. I have been that person. And I don't regret being on the outside. In fact I think I've felt it calling to me all my life.

I'll never have an easy time fitting into categories. I will make my home on the outskirts with the other misfits. And I'll be grateful for the clarity it affords me. But right now, it's a very lonely place to be.

------------------ 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, 9: Letting Go

2010-10-21T20:40:00.000-07:00

Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, who just drifted.

Raise your hand if you're tired of hearing about me. Me too!!!! So I'm going to get creative with this one and just make crap up. Hopefully it will amuse you, if not please send complaints to my editor, Todd Valencia.

I really miss George.

I didn't want to let him go.

I held onto his rowboat until my hands got tired. But in the end he drifted. He just... drifted. I think he ended up somewhere downstream.

The end.

------------------- 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, 8: Mean

2010-10-19T17:24:00.000-07:00

Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell.

I suppose I could pick out several people who've made me miserable over the course of my lifetime, but the truth is that I'm my biggest critic. I don't think there's any one person who's been crueler to me than I am to myself.

Plenty of times I've felt guilty for legitimately doing something wrong. It's unpleasantly squirmy and will not go away until I confess (to a person, to God, or to myself) that I was wrong and try to make amends. Guilt is useful as a prod toward repentance. After that it becomes a corrosive acid that eats away at anything it comes into contact with. I tend to let it stick around and eat at me until I'm full of holes. But if guilt is a stone, God reminds me that I pick it up myself, when he's trying to get me to put it down. He typically reminds me of this when I go to him complaining that my arms hurt because of the heavy rock of heaviness I am carrying. And he never even rolls his eyes.

I have a habit of feeling guilty. My personality type and years of churchily-imposed restrictions combined to result in someone whose basic modus operandi is guilty. I never doing anything well enough, I'm weird, I have too many opinions, I'm mean, I'm petty, I should be trying harder, my ego is out of control, I'm lazy, I don't care enough, I care too much... it's endless. And it all points to the same insidious little thought: God is not pleased with me. And it's a lie. It's a terrible, terrible lie and, much as a child thinking that his parents were not pleased with him doing his best would, I'm sure that it breaks God's heart.

And yet the habit. I am a creature of habit in some regards and this vein runs deep. It was reinforced for years by the church (and I'm not talking about one church in particular) with constant reminders that you could be reading your Bible, praying, serving God, witnessing to people, going to church, thinking Godly thoughts, and doing good deeds more than you already were. You read your Bible for an hour every morning? Jack reads his for three, in the original Greek. I was caught in an endless loop of trying to please God by being who I thought he expected me to be, never living up to my image of who I thought I should be and never entirely happy with who I was.

I knew about grace. Everyone talked a lot about grace. But I don't think anybody really understood the concept. It wasn't until my idea of who I was and who I was supposed to be was completely shattered that I saw grace for what it is: freedom. There's a phrase from the Bible that I love: He [God] is wooing you from the jaws of distress to a spacious place free from restriction. How typically human, that we have to be coaxed out of the jaws of distress and into freedom. We're like captive animals that have grown so used to our cages that we hesitate to leave when the door is opened. And yet God takes the time to woo us, he's not just opening the lock and letting us out, he's beckoning, pleading with us urgently to leave the prison behind and step into the spacious freedom of love. I wish I could live in that freedom all the time, instead of retreating to the safe, familiar confines of my cage frequently, but I know that he won't ever let the door be closed again. I am so grateful.

------------------- 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, 7: Life Worth Living

2010-10-19T09:26:00.000-07:00

Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.

(let's just pretend I put this up on Monday, ok? 'Cause I started it on Monday, and I'm pretty sure that totally counts)

I take exception to the grammar of this prompt. "Someone who has made your life worth living...for?" Is it that they make your life worth living for you, or them? Are you living your life for them? Or do they make your life worth living by being part of it? I em confused.

I'm going to go with my own interpretation: Someone who makes my life worth living when nothing else does.

Cue the organ music... I have to say, God. It sounds trite and corny and there's nothing I hate more than churchy cheese (with the possible exception of the idea that if you object to having your Christianity with extra cheese it means you don't love/are ashamed of God/Jesus) but it's true, y'all.

I mentioned the perfectionism, right? And the fact that I feel things way too strongly? For as long as I can remember (and I have a very good memory) those two things have combined in me to result in occasional but overwhelming feelings of deep despair about the world, both personally and in a larger sense. I can remember, even as a young child, thinking, There is so much suffering and pain and emptiness and failure in the world. How can anything not be pointless and irredeemable? I found my answers in books.

C.S. Lewis, Madeline L'Engle, Lucy Maude Boston, Lloyd Alexander, Susan Cooper and many others taught me about God. Now few of the books I'm thinking of (in fact I would say none of them although I know many people would disagree about Lewis & Narnia) are explicitly "Christian." In fact at least one of those authors was an atheist and reflected her views on the church quite strongly in her books. However, all of them knew there was something more to the universe than suffering and despair, and none of them were egotistical enough to pretend that they knew precisely what that more was. In all of the stories that I thrived on as a child, there is an element of wonder and mystery, like a vine hanging over the quicksand of nihilism needing only to be grabbed hold of in order to avoid being sucked under. These authors knew there was more and that the more was something both great and good. And they all agreed that the good is allied with love, and that the bad thrives alongside hate. Looking back now, one of the things that stands out among these storytellers is that they did not claim to have the answers. Even Lewis's Narnia hints that there is far more that is unknown than that which can be known.

The message all of my favorite stories had in common though, was that although the unknown can be terrifying, we need not fear it. That although life is hard and confusing and battles need to be faced with courage, there is hope and, ultimately, all will be well. We are not alone. Someone greater than us is in control.

I learned more about God in children's stories than I ever did in church.

------------------- 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, 6: unHope?

2010-10-17T09:45:00.000-07:00

Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.

I hope I never stop writing, or reading, or loving. I hope Todd never stops being a punk and driving me crazy by scaring the bejabbers out of me 20 times a day. I hope I never have to eat broccoli. I hope I never lose my sense of wonder or forget what it felt like to be a child. I hope I never become a burden to those who care for me when I'm old, but if I do, I hope I retain my sense of mischief and at least enjoy it.

------------------- 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, 5: Hope

2010-10-16T08:05:00.000-07:00

Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.

I hope to serve God. I hope I hope to leave the world slightly better than I found it. I hope to magically get a publishing contract for a million dollars (just kidding! Kind of*). I hope in His unfailing love. I hope Daphne and Stone get to come to my brother's wedding in December. I hope their mother stops hating me. I hope I can learn to love her. I hope that we can cooperate in raising these two beautiful children. I hope it starts feeling like fall soon in Modesto. I hope that I'm right that nothing good is every truly lost or wasted. I hope Todd stops smoking so I can keep him around to torment for many years. I hope that this world is not all there is; that sorrow last for a night but joy comes in the morning; that though now we see dimly through a darkened window, someday we will see the One who made us, face to face. I hope the next season of Doctor Who comes out on dvd soon. I hope nobody knows that I'm cheating by writing day 5 and 6 on day 4 and setting them to post while I'm away for the weekend panning for gold.

* Of course I am a true artist and scorn the idea of taking something as base as money for my work. I live on dewdrops and moonbeams. Todd, however, lives on Mountain Dew and Moon Pies, so the cash sure wouldn't hurt.

------------------- 30 Days of Truth--------------------

30 Days of Truth, Day 4: Forgiving

2010-10-15T19:16:00.000-07:00

I don't want to brag, but I am a very forgiving person.

I have forgiven Todd for the time he brushed my hair with the cat brush, the 560,732 times he's jumped out from behind the door to scare the crap out of me, the times he put pillows under a blanket to make me think he was in bed and then jumped out at me from the bathroom, the other times he hid under the blankets so I would think he was a pile of pillows and then jumped out and scared me when I went and looked in the bathroom for him, the time he poured cold water on me in the shower, the time he surreptitiously tucked my skirt into my underwear under the guise of hugging me and then turned me around so my back was facing the children while grinning at me like a cheshire cat. I have forgiven him for the times he gave me "helpful criticism" on meal preparation instead of appreciating the fact that I was feeding him (it helps that he is a fast learner and responds well to angry eyebrows, tears, and phrases like, "Make your own damned dinner if you know how to do it so well!!"). I struggled mightily to forgive him when he told me I was a bossy woman but finally told him I would do it him if he just agreed to do whatever I tell him, all the time.

I have also forgiven him for the time he hid on the balcony and threw a cupful of water down on me while I was talking on the phone outside. In addition there's the time he locked me out on the balcony and then pointed and laughed through the glass door (it helped that I have also done that to him at least once). I am still struggling to forgive him for teaching the children "ninja skills" i.e. how to hide behind the door in order to jump out and scare the crap out of me, but luckily he is patient with my efforts. Truly, the man is a saint.

------------------- 30 Days of Truth-------------------

Palm, meet Face

2010-10-14T20:13:00.000-07:00

This morning the alarm went off. I have it placed at the other end of the room so I have to get up to turn it off. Yes, I need the motivation.

But this morning I tried to shut it off by pressing Todd's nose.

I woke up to confusion about why the alarm clock felt so weirdly flesh-like. And then I opened my eyes to find myself face-palming a very grumpy man who accused me of trying to smother him in his sleep.

Heh heh heh.

I saw the hilarity in this before I was even fully awake but for some reason Todd has yet to appreciate it. Maybe I accidentally shut his sense of humor off.

30 Days of Truth, 3: Forgiven

2010-10-14T15:50:00.000-07:00

Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

I was six when my sister Julie was born. For complicated reasons involving both family dynamics and the onset of pre-adolescence I started to hate her three years later. None of it had anything to do with Julie herself, she was just the most obvious scapegoat. She was too young to defend herself (Libby could beat me up even though she was three years younger) but not so young as Dan, who was a baby and therefore off the hook. I was horrible to her for years. I knew it was wrong and I hated myself for it, but I couldn't stop. I did everything I could, and as an older sister my powers were considerable, to make her life miserable.

By the time my angry hormones had calmed down and I had, if not made peace with my parents, at least stopped blaming Julie for their failings (it would be many more years before I forgave them for being ~~imperfect~~ human), my little sister had hit her own patch of pre-adolescent hormones and was ready to hate me right back. Our relationship suffered for years from the awkwardness that stemmed from my inability to tell her I was sorry.

I could not tell her I was sorry. I could not ask her for forgiveness until I was able to forgive myself. I could not forgive myself because I couldn't come to terms with what a terrible person I must have been. I was in my thirties before I started to figure out what could have prompted a nine-year-old to act in such a manner toward someone she was responsible for protecting, and begin to see my younger self as a victim of circumstance, as well as a tormentor.

I grew up in the church. I have been taught so much about forgiveness. Learning how to accept it is the hardest lesson.

------------------- 30 Days of Truth--------------------

Thirty Days of Truth, 2: Love

2010-10-14T12:40:00.000-07:00

What do you hate about yourself? What do you love? How can I separate them?

I hate my perfectionism. I love my perfectionism. Without it I'd have no drive, no creativity.

Guilt is sometimes the only thing that keeps me in check. It destroys me. I need it.

I need to question things. It frequently makes me miserable. I wouldn't change it.

I am a collection of extremes. I am a mess. I am a sloppy bundle of flesh and soul, held together with ties that can't be seen.

Aren't we all just that? Beautiful, terrible, wonderful, divinely-wrought messes.

I love my imperfections. I hate my imperfections.

I am grateful to be human.

**Also, I love how I'm going to pretend I posted this Wednesday because that's totally when I started it so it counts, right? Right?**

------------------- 30 Days of Truth--------------------

Things I accomplished Before Eight O'Clock This Morning

2010-10-13T08:08:00.000-07:00

Got the kids up, dressed & ready for school.
Made them lunches and took them to the bus stop (okay fine, we drove the 2 blocks to the bus stop because we were running late, so sue me).
Put away the laundry I folded last night, folded and put away another load.
Ate vegetables for breakfast.

People, I am on fiyah!! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed, I need a nap.

p.s. Just kidding!! I am going walking at 9 with my one lovely Modesto friend and her exquisitely cute baby. Got that? I am exercising!!! And I've posted three times on my blog in two days. I'd better slow down, I am going to hurt myself at this rate.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Part the Third

2010-10-12T17:34:00.000-07:00

NEW: Now with pictures!!

(Make sure you didn't miss parts one and two! Unless you wanted to, in which case I can't blame you, they're both ridiculously long and contain way more information about me than anyone really wants to know).

August- School starts on the 9th in Modesto!!!! We decide on a last minute camping trip the week before school starts, as a last hurrah to summer. I drag my feet about the preparations. Todd insists we must go. We end up setting a tent up in the dark. I am not thrilled. After a few hours of sleep I feel immensely less grumpy and the trip just gets better from there.

I almost fall off of a really big rock.

Todd pees off of a cliff in an extremely manly way.

We spend two days at Hume Lake,
having pure, unadulterated fun.

We all have a superfantastic time.

After a few days of recovering at home, school starts. The children love their new school. The children finally get tired of saying, "Jess!! You almost died!!!!" and we all agree to forget about that unfortunate incident with the rock.

Me & the lovely Bry

We attend a wedding in the bay area and I get to show off my new family at my old church the next day. I try not to brag too much but they are pretty cute. Especially the tall one! Nobody throws things at us for being Godless sinners who live in sin. At least not while I am looking. People are gracious and lovely and welcoming. The kids have so much fun in Sunday school that they don't want to leave.

September- Todd plays a lot of Nintendo in an effort to relive his youth. I scold him about video games and brains turned to mush and smoking and too much sugar and fast food and caffeine and not exercising or getting a job. He threatens to throw me off the balcony but in such a loving manner that I am forced to reconsider my tactics. I lovingly announce that he can buy his own damn cigarettes and Mountain Dew from now on as I am not his mother and am prepared to stop acting as if I am.

He looks perplexed. I cannot imagine why.

I start trying to mother him again.

Todd grumbles.

I worry, which leads to more nagging.

God says in a loud stage whisper, "Trust Me!!"

He says it again, louder.

He shouts it.

I say, "I'm sorry I can't hear you I'M TOO BUSY FREAKING OUT."

He hits me with a lightning bolt that has a piece of paper wrapped around it that says, "TRUST ME!!!"

~~I finally get it.~~ I'm working on it.

favorite comment:

Todd Valencia: Do not! Fibber.

And it wasn't a rock so much as a mountain. And you did fall, or rather "slid downhill uncontrollably" for about thirty yards after you decided it'd be grand to take a jaunt outside the railing to take in the view. If you'd kept going another ten yards I imagine you could have caught a most "unique" view of the hillside in the brief time you'd have had left to enjoy it. You certainly would've beat us back down off the rock.

Jess Davenport: Nag, nag, nag. Geez, a girl tries to add a little adventure to her life before she settles down and leaves behind her wild bachelorette ways and suddenly everyone's a critic....

And I am getting it. Just in v-e-r-y s-m-a-l-l increments. ;)

30 Days of Truth, 1: Hate

2010-10-12T17:22:00.000-07:00

I wish I could see myself clearly. As it is, I can see two wildly vacillating sides, neither of which, I'm aware, is entirely accurate. I am either all ego, sure I can do anything; or nothing, crushed in the dust of my self-perceived failure.

There are elements of truth in both of these, but also false notes. I am, simply, human; neither perfect nor completely lacking. If I could just get outside of myself, outside of the world and my head, maybe I could hold in one hand the twofold truths that all human beings carry within themselves: I am glorious, a masterpiece without equal / I am a wretch, lost and twisted and unable to pull myself out of the mud without help.

Perfectionism is a curse, but it's one I rely on. If I wasn't driven by it, I don't think I would ever accomplish anything concrete. I would be well read, however.

If you could see me, really see me, you'd see that I am a contradictory mess. All or nothing. My house is a mess only when it's not impeccably spotless. My life is only a mess when it's not impeccably spotless. I am all yea or all nay, but no in-between. I am incredibly happy or plunged into the slough of despair, all in one day, one week, one hour.

I can't discuss an issue without getting passionate about it. It gets me into trouble, a lot. I have quite the mouth on me, is how my parents liked to describe it in my teen years.They were not being complimentary. I wonder how much of my outspokenness has to do with the fact that I always felt that my father would rather that women did not have opinions of their own unless they aligned perfectly with his. Honestly he feels that way about everyone in the whole world, but women in particular. He's mellowed out a lot over the years but he still tries to pull me into a political argument every time I go home. It makes me feel like he doesn't respect my opinions although I suspect it's his way of trying to connect with me.

I feel guilty all the time. Guilt is my secret addiction. I never do anything as quickly, as well, as kindly, as perfectly as I could have, should have. Frequently I don't even try because the thought of achieving the level I set for myself exhausts me before I even start. That makes me feel guilty too. I pick at the guilt the way a child picks at a painful scab, simultaneously repulsed and fascinated; it hurts but I cannot stop.

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Following are the writing prompts for 30 Days of Truth, should you be interested in doing so yourself.

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Part Deux

2010-10-04T21:16:00.001-07:00

Where was I? Okay, you read this part right?

June (cont.)- Having made it to California still on speaking terms (minus one fiasco involving the fiendishly covert disposal of someone's cherished tobacco products by someone else who is cruel, unusual and very very mean; and in retrospect this makes the survival of both parties over the next three weeks of travel even more amazing), Todd and I visit with his family for a few days and sadly prepare to hand over the kids to their mother for her summer visitation.

After dropping off the kids off, we head to my house in Cupertino. We try to figure out logistics for our relationship and the coming summer. Todd votes for finding a place together but I tell him that that is definitely against the rules. God says, "Trust Me." I decide that going with The Big Guy rather than church regulations worked out rather well the first time so I ignore a lot of people who telling me I'm making a terrible horrible no good very bad mistake. We'll skip over the next few weeks and get to the part where we decide on five different towns to move to in one week and do A LOT of driving around. Finally, we decide on Modesto as being fairly inexpensive and equidistant from Todd's family and my peeps in the bay area. We find an apartment in the perfect condominium complex- it has a pool, a pond with a family of ducklings, koi fish, turtles and lots of tadpoles (promising a healthy frog population in the coming months). Oh, and it has, like, walls and a roof and stuff too.

We spend Father's Day weekend in the central valley with Todd's family and the kids. We have to buy them new clothes because their mother delivers them to us without underwear or socks. The few pieces of clothing they do have with them mostly belong to their young half-brother and sister and are much too small. Stone doesn't even have shoes. As in, he is not wearing any. Even though they met us after going to a movie and an ice cream parlor. Even though he has a hole in his foot from stepping on a fork. Apparently he left them somewhere and his been shoeless for several days. His feet are black. In one of the few times in my life am grateful for the existence of Wal-Mart, we stop to invest in shoes, bathing suits, socks, underwear, t-shirts, shorts, and lots of anti-bacterial wipes.

Much fun is had over the weekend. Not so much fun is had on Sunday when we have to give them back, wondering when we will see them again. Todd is legally entitled to several weekends over the course of the six-week summer visitation, but his ex-wife has no compunctions about using the children as pawns, and will therefore threaten to cancel every single weekend we try to plan for and will indeed cancel the next one, at the last minute. Since our only recourse is to show up with the police (i.e. traumatize the children), we let it go but decide take the kids back in mid-July shortly after the six weeks is over, rather than letting her have a longer extended visit as we'd planned.

July- We move into our new apartment in Modesto. The next few weeks are spent setting up house as much as possible with our combined possessions of... practically nothing. I have downsized over the last few years until everything I own fits into a small bedroom, and Todd's belongings are languishing in storage on the opposite coast courtesy of the Army and the Army's awesome organizational capabilities. They won't arrive until the end of August. However, we have a table, some beds, a laptop, and a netflix subscription; what more could anyone need, really?

We pick the kids up and they are thrilled with the pool, the local wildlife, and the fact that they will be sleeping in my old loft. There is a lot of pool-going that takes place for the rest of the summer. In fact little else takes place, except for weekend adventures to visit the Fresno zoo and Playland with T's family, or to the bay area (Santa Cruz! Monterey! And more importantly, Dennis the Menace Playground!!). Much progress is made by the kids in the area of swimming.

A good time is had by all except for the times when Todd and I are figuring out that we're both stubborn as mules and too proud to apologize. But in between? Good times.

Progress is made by me in the area of Not Stomping Off After A Fight.

Progress is made in the area of Who's Job is it to Cook Dinner?

Progress is made in the area of Why You Wanna Throw Away All Of My Stuff, Woman?

Occasional regressions occur but are duly dealt with, usually by crying on the part of one party. One party cries a whole lot. Especially around certain times of the month. Patience is learned by the other party, eventually.

to be cont. because it was just getting too dang long...

Part three

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

2010-10-01T11:07:00.000-07:00

Reposted from a Facebook note since I accidentally deleted the original post and had to rewrite it

I fell in love and gained an instant family. Also I spent a month driving cross-country and moved to a different town.

It's a long story, really, so I'll try to sum it up. That really means I'm going to make you read an eleventy-jillion word essay describing the past year of my life in minute detail. It's like the Christmas letter from HELL!!!

November/December 2009- The holidays are particularly sucky. I turned 35, broke up with the guy I was dating, and came to realize that taking antidepressants is actually quite vital to my well-being and going off of them was a really bad idea, all in the same weekend. It was like this. It takes time to get back up to a normal dosage of happy pills and in between I am NOT in a good place. Things are bad. I am at my sister Lib's house for Christmas. I am trying not to be miserable because, "Hey! it's Christmas!! And Family!! And niece and nephews!! I should be So! Happy!!" but mostly failing.

I get a message on Facebook from a stranger- Todd Valencia. He says he came across my blog and he says incredibly nice things about my writing. [I offer to remain his devoted servant for as long as he keeps giving me literary compliments, but only in my head.] He wonders if I write fiction and if I write anywhere else online. Stranger is kinda cute. I write back. We send tentative messages back and forth. I tell no one, not even my sister because I'm secretly kind of ashamed at myself for hoping there's a chance this will turn out to be something. Because really, what are the odds? I have no idea what I am in for.

January- The messages get less tentative, and longer. We find we share a fantasy of making a living as writers one day. I begin to find minivans increasingly attractive. We start challenging each other to short story challenges and critiquing each other's work.

Todd tells me about his divorce, his two children, what it's like being a single parent. We both admit to interest and bemoan the fact that there are so many solid and practical reasons why we could never become involved with each other, such as geographical distance (He's a Californian living on the east coast, I'm an east coaster living in California), The Army (current possessor of his soul and physical body, and bent on sending him to Afghanistan a few months hence), religion (I am a Christian, he is... not), age (he is eight years younger than I am and I have recently sworn off of dating younger men), and, confusingly, musical tastes..? (I will tease him until we die about the fact that he listed slightly differing musical tastes as a reason we could Never be Together).

February- Todd sends me flowers for Valentine's day. Conversation culminates in an anguished discussion where both parties acknowledge that strong feelings make a simple friendship impossible but I insist that I can't reconcile my devotion to God and a relationship with an unbeliever. I tell him we can never speak again. Oh. The Drama.

Three of the worst days in history later- God tells me [in a cloud of fiery splendor (not really)] that I'm doing the wrong thing. I argue that church people are very firm on the not-dating-non-Christians thing. He asks who I'm going to listen to. I tentatively decide on Him. Todd and I resume communications and he forgives me for "dumping" him on Valentines day with the stipulation that he will never ever let me forget it. We share our thoughts and feelings via incredibly long daily emails and frequent chats that last into the wee hours of the night (for me, in CA, and the late hours of the morning for him on the east coast). We are falling in love. We have never even spoken on the phone.

March- The army decides that maybe they possibly will discharge him or not because of the custody situation with his children and his ex-wife which we will not go into here. I (kind of) jokingly volunteer to a marriage of convenience in which he goes off to war while I stay with the children. We both pretend this is not an option either of us would seriously consider. We both pretend it would just be really practical and convenient for everyone.

March- The army decides that "Yes, no, he can't not go" and Todd begins the great debate about what he is going to do now. Options are: taking advantage of GI bill and going back to school, or getting one of those job things doing the same thing he's doing for the Army as a contractor. We decide that the time is long overdue for us to meet in person and possibly date or maybe just elope to Vegas on first meeting. Todd decides to come back home to California for the summer while he figures things out, which, since his family and his children's mother live conveniently close to me, works out nicely with the aforementioned plan.

April- Todd finalizes plans for leaving North Carolina and driving to California at the end of April. We eagerly and nervously anticipate meeting in real life.

My grandmother becomes unexpectedly ill and I tearfully explain that I am flying to Rhode island to say goodbye. Todd insists without hesitation that he is willing to drive to Rhode Island, pick me up, meet my entire family, and drive back to California with me. I tell him he is crazy and does not know my family but am willing to be convinced. I wonder if I am insane, or if he is, or if both of us are, for thinking this could be a good idea.

Late April- My wonderful grandmother is laid to rest and mourned not solely by her six children and their various and assorted spouses, twenty grandchildren, and no less than twenty great grandchildren; but also by many other friends and loved ones. I did not get a chance to tell her about Todd, but the fact that his daughter shares my Mimi's birthday, a day I was also born on, confirms my feeling that she is somehow looking out for us.

The next day, May 1st- a minivan containing the love of my life, his two children, his brother, and two cats pull up in front of my parents' house as my mother feels the sudden and inexplicable need to wash the outside of the front windows. We exchange slightly awkward greetings in front of nosy family members. We go on a date while Uncle Ben babysits the children. I go back to my sister's house for the night, and that turns out to be the last night we spend apart until late July.

May, early- We vacation in Rhode Island, blissfully getting to know each other, while the kids and I = instant love, and they bond with my niece and nephews as if they're all already cousins.

May, rest of- We spend a leisurely three weeks driving cross country- two relative strangers who know each other very well, and two children who seem to accept this new family arrangement as if it's always been this way. We sightsee in DC, kidnap, er, compassionately relocate a chicken from North to South Carolina, dig for diamonds in Arkansas, gaze in awe at the Grand Canyon, and cavort in a very, very cold river in Sedona. We weather countless pit stops, disciplinary issues (I am not allowed to treat the six year old like a baby, no matter how cute he is and no matter how many times he flashes his dimples), poor driving skills (Todd's, totally Todd's) and wanting to kill each other for several brief periods of time. I find out that the house I've been renting for the last year is being sold, and I have to move out by the end of June.

June- We arrive in California, lives and relationship miraculously preserved against the odds. We decide that if we could weather three weeks in a car with two small children immediately after having met, we'll probably survive anything and promptly decide to move in together.

To be continued...

Part two

Part three

NOOOOoooOOOOOOOOoooooO.

2010-09-25T13:33:00.000-07:00

I just deleted the wrong draft. 8 gajillion word post is gone. Le sigh. I will have to reconstruct (luckily saved most of it in Text edit. Doh!!!!

My Little baby Brother Grew Up

2010-08-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

AND HE'S GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!

Congratulations Zach and Christy. I'm thrilled to have another sister and delighted that Zach has such excellent taste that he's marrying my friend!

p.s. New!

2010-07-02T20:13:00.000-07:00

Updated: here

My Breath

2010-06-15T19:18:00.001-07:00

smells like dog poo

My boyfriend

is obnoxious.

That Time in the Park or How My Parents Warped Me For Life Using Extreme Neglect and A Total Lack of Dignity

2010-04-23T19:48:00.000-07:00

I was barely six. We moved into our new house after moving to Venezuela and spending a few months in a temporary house. There was a park across the street and whilst the moving was going on my parents let my sister Lib and I mosey over to the playground. Lib had just turned three. Yes, I know what you're thinking, my parents put a six year old in charge of a three year old and sent them to the park, alone, in a foreign country. Ah, the good old days! Ask me sometime about how Lib and I used to go play with our friends in the barrio,* none of whose families my parents had ever met, completely unsupervised.

*This was the word we used for the "poor neighborhood" in Venezuela. I remember large extended families crowded into tiny houses with no doors, occasionally just a length of fabric hung in doorways or windows. We were fairly far out in the country though, so it wasn't exactly like a slum.

My spatial abilities had not yet developed to the point where I had any directional sense at all (I'm still waiting on this.... still... not yet....) so when I got turned around and made my way to the edge of the park where my house should have been on the other side of the street only to be met by a completely unfamiliar sight, I did the only logical thing. I sat down and cried. That's how they found us. I was reassuring Libby through my terrified sobs while she played happily, completely unconcerned, next to me.

My parents, to their credit, reassured me for at least five minutes before starting a lifetime of teasing about the time Jessica was so dumb she got lost in the park across the street. I'm telling ya, people, it's like we were raised by wolves.

My One and Only Naughty Video (so far)

2010-03-17T22:12:00.001-07:00

I'm reposting this because it's just too cute not to, Watch it, I tell you! Watch it AGAIN!!! not because I am to lazy to write a new post or finish one of the quintyjillion half-finished posts that languish in my Blogger files.

So... yeah. Also, a new Bailey story: She says "Evaaarrr" when she's mad at you. It sems to be some sort of two year old shorthand for, "I am never ever going to speak to you again!" but she says it with such intense disdain she she doesn't even need the other nine words. When I was on the phone with my sister the other day, Lib sighed, "Bailey evared the saleslady in the store today. She's so fresh. Luckily the woman didn't know she was being insulted and thought it was cute."

I predict that evar has become a new verb in my family that will far outlast B's terrible(ly cute) two's.

Oh, hey, and check it out. Lib''s started her own blog!

My niece, Bailey, took me to task when I was visiting for being "Naughny" I like to call this the naughty video. Like, "Hey everybody, have I showed you my naughty video yet?" But that's just because I'm immature.

Rivaling Tina Fey For My Role Model: Sarah Haskins

2010-03-12T17:52:00.000-08:00

I like to think I'm making someone's boring work day more interesting.

2010-03-12T16:00:00.000-08:00

Dear Anthem Blue Cross,

I'm sorry to tell you this in such an impersonal way, but... I'm leaving you. I've been secretly talking to Blue Shield for behind your back for weeks now and we've decided to make it official. I'm sorry. Raising your rates to over $300 a month for my individual policy just put too much pressure on an already strained relationship and I can't take it anymore.

Please cancel my policy # XDL 555555555 as of yesterday. Or possible even the day before. Definitely before March 1st. And I know I'm telling you this after March 1st, but honestly? If you ever called or wrote you'd have figured out before this that our relationship was on shaky ground. Don't try to lay your communication issues on me.

We had a good run. I hope you find someone new to gouge, I mean serve, before national health care puts you out of business.

Sincerely,

Jessica Davenport

Best Comment Ever

2010-03-10T21:09:00.000-08:00

The award goes to Katie, my matching bookend from the other side of the Davenport bookshelf.

Rantelly Rantingness!!

2010-03-02T02:15:00.000-08:00

I have 'et some caffeine. To help me deal with the Worst Diaper Blowout Ever tm.

Peoplez, there was poop everywhere (don't worry, I will tell you all about it in detail later. I know you are dying to hear). So now I am awake. At 2. When I have to be at work at 8 to face the possibility of yet another WDBE tm. I find it worrying when a parent greets my tale of poopy mayhem with a nod and a knowing expression that says, "Ordinary day for the new nanny, then."*

Wait, I was saying something... Oh YES, CAFFEINE!!! Am now awake 12 hours later because caffeine does that to be but only sometimes not on a regular enough basis that I become convinced I should not take it to help me get through the rest of the day with small squirmy cute but poopy baby. And sleepless nights are great for ranting and raving, I find. After all if I'm up, and annoyed about it, I might as well direct it somewhere useful, right? So mosey on over here and weigh in on my heretical views about singleness and Christians, eh?

*To clarify: I am working a temporary job this week and next, still looking for something more permanent.

2010-02-23T11:34:00.000-08:00

Terrible news, friends: My computer has died an ignomious death!!! I am typing this at the library, waiting for my Apple genius reservation but I'm 98% sure that the hard drive crashed and was wiped out. I'm hoping that mine was in the round of Macbooks that had bad hard drives and Apple will replace it for free. Pray for my poor laptop!!!

Little Pitchers

2010-02-09T11:50:00.000-08:00

When I was five, my parents, sister and I moved to South America. This is one of my earlier memories of the three years we lived in Venezuela.

We moved into our temporary house and started exploring the neighborhood. There were giant pictures painted on the street. I think one was of Santa Claus.

There was a dog in the neighborhood that looked as if someone had lopped off a beagle's legs and stuck them on the body of a german shepherd. We'd frequently see the owner walking this dog and my mother (although she really should have known better at this point) made the grave mistake of announcing to Lib and I (or, more likely, to Dad, while we were listening) that she thought it was the goofiest looking dog in the world and was determined to get a picture of it to send back to friends and family in the States (because nothing says exotic foreign locale like a... short german shepherd?). I know all of you with young children will anticipate what happened the next time we passed the hapless dog walker and his poor maligned dog.

"MOM HEY MOM THERE'S THAT REALLY UGLY DOG THAT YOU THINK IS SO FUNNY! LOOK IT'S RIGHT HERE MOM, RIGHT HERE!! LOOK! HEY MOM, DON'T YOU WANNA GET THE CAMERA, HUH? REMEMBER YOU WANNA TAKE A PICTURE OF THE FUNNY LOOKING DOG, MOM, HUH? DID YOU HEAR ME MOM? THAT'S THE GOOFY DOG WITH THE REALLY SHORT LEGS THAT YOU'VE BEEN TELLING EVERYBODY ABOUT!! HEY MOM..."

Little pitchers... have big mouths. ;)

Illumination

2010-01-27T09:41:00.000-08:00

I'm reposting this because I find that I need to hear it. And because lately I'm exulting in being able to feel hope again.

Leaving work one stormy day, I find myself driving out of a rainstorm. A tiny sliver of blue in the distant sky catches my attention. Rays of sunlight falling out of it graze the freshly verdant hills of the Diablo Range, illuminating them against the lowering sky like rich green velvet in a jeweler's case.

Heading north, an ominous thunderhead in my rearview mirror masses against the mountains. To my left, the clouds split to reveal a bright clear-washed sky in bird's-egg-blue. The edge of a ball of blazing yellow peeks out of the billowy cloudbanks. On my right the same scene, reflected brilliantly in the mirrored skyscrapers on the opposite side of the highway, plays like a real-time movie of the sunset on a 500 foot screen. As I look behind me at the oppressive stormclouds and forward to the light-drenched late afternoon sky I am reminded of flying.

Taking off on an airplane on a cloudy day for the first time; as we climbed above the thick gray clouds of a dreary day and into a gloriously clear sunlit sky I realized for the first time, in a seeing-is-believing sort-of way, that the sun was still there when I couldn't see it.

Everyone knows on an intellectual level that clouds only block our source of light, right? That they can't extinguish it. But it doesn't seem that way from an earthbound perspective. "The rain has stopped. The sun is coming out," we say. But the sun hasn't moved. When I saw for myself that the clouds were only a flimsy barrier over my little part of the sky, my perspective suddenly widened. How vast is the cosmos, and how infinitesimal the part of it that I bear witness to.

No matter how much science teaches me about the universe, it seems difficult not to see myself as the center of it most of the time.

Life is like this: Sometimes all we can see is the storm. Gray clouds hide the sun and make us huddle against the rain, heads down, surviving rather than basking. Sometimes, no matter how well we are taught that the storm is only covering our little bit of the sky, that the sun is stronger and just waiting for the clouds to blow past; it seems impossible to believe that we'll ever see blue skies again.

This is for all those who are still in the storm but can see blue skies ahead. Keep moving, dear ones, the sun is waiting for you with outstretched arms, one day soon the storm will be behind you, and you'll glory in the radiance of the sun as you were meant to.

I loves me some Ricky Gervais

2010-01-17T19:54:00.000-08:00

Advice for actors.

Bailey in a bucket

2010-01-15T18:57:00.001-08:00

Lather, rinse, repeat

2010-01-14T13:30:00.000-08:00

So I've started to recognize a pattern (it always takes me a while). I start taking antidepressants> I feel better> I feel awesome> I crash> I up the dosage a little> I feel better> I feel awesome> I crash. You get the idea.

I'm afraid to just jump into the dosage (the highest that's recommended) I was on originally because I tend to get little side servings of anxiety while my brain is adjusting to a new dosage and I'm afraid if I dump too much on it the poor thing will just implode. And then all my blog posts would look like this: djhksjgbdfwfbadglabeTWE. Nobody wants that. I think... (if I'm mistaken and you'd been dying to see what kind of writing I could produce sans brain, let me know and I'll ~~throw something at you~~ see what I can do).

Yesterday was a bad day. Today is also not so good. I should feel better by tomorrow or the next day. But today it feels like an angry horde of bees is trapped in my skull. And also my gut. Do bees run in hordes? I guess they don't really run at all.

I'm scared about not finding a job. I keep going around in circles and coming back to what I do now as the only sure way I can pay the bills. I've already told my employer to start looking for a replacement because I don't want to put her in a bind if I find something else. It's a bad time of year for her to be without childcare, and I don't want her to have to transition later when things are even busier. But that means I might be out of work soon, except for a few hours a week. And everyone here is looking for a job. The market is flooded with people who are overqualified for the jobs I'm under qualified for. Bah. I'm going to live in a cave in the tropics and eat coconuts and carve sage and witty sayings into the cave wall that people will toss coins at me to view. Here's the first one:

Dear Pat Robertson,

WTF, man? You have just confirmed what I've thought of you for years and then some. I know Don Williams says I should go easy on you because you are a sad frightened little man on the inside, but I feel like shipping you to Haiti and feeding you to starving survivors. Thank you for confirming the prevailing and unfortunately frequently true opinion that Christians are assholes.

Yours truly,

HermitJ

Guess what?!?

2010-01-12T10:50:00.001-08:00

It's National Delurking day! That means if you read this you have to leave a comment or your nose will turn green and fall off. Or something like that. Talk to me, Peeps!!!

Dear Anthem Blue Cross...

2010-01-11T21:16:00.000-08:00

Thank you for the lovely flyer. It's so kind of you to ask if baby could be "in my future," and I'm thrilled to tiny little pieces that you have a program that offers free advice to moms and a magnetic erasable board you can put on your refrigerator to leave important information for your babysitter in plain view.

The flyer says that you send this information to all female plan members in my age group so I was wondering if it was my recent 35th birthday that triggered this mailing. If so I would like to tell you how much I appreciate the reminder (have a baby, before it's too late!) and how sincerely I hope that you get run over by a garbage truck full of poo.*

*This wish is not aimed at any specific individual employed by Anthem Blue Cross, just the organization as a whole.

Because I know you're dying to know what my opinion is on the latest blockbusters...

2010-01-10T22:03:00.001-08:00

I think I've seen more movies this holiday season than I did the rest of the year put together. My sister Katie McAwesomePants has a job working at the local movie theater and the rest of my family now regards paying for a movie ticket as a thing of the past.

Example:

Me: How about Avatar?

All: Seen it.

Me: Well, I want to see Invictus.

Daniel: But it's not playing at Katie's theater so she can't get us in for free.

Me: Oh, does that mean we can't see it?

Huw: Well Katie wouldn't be able to put us on the list, so...

Me: We could... I dunno... go to the other theater and... pay for it?

Julie: ...[words fail her and the look of absolute horror on her face makes them unnecessary anyway]

Me: Or... I guess we could see Did You Hear About the Morgans?

Everyone: [collective sigh of relief]*

*Because my family members will probably complain that they didn't actually say any of those things I should add the disclaimer that I make crap up all the time. The preceding conversation was a re-creation based on actual events, or something like that.

So that's how I ended up seeing Hugh "I play one character, and also myself"** Grant and Sarah "only cool people share my middle name" Parker in the worst movie of the year. Nothing more needs to be said on that subject.

**I used to think maybe Hugh Grant couldn't act and the daffy-but-lovable stammering Brit he always played was just his real personality, but then he got caught with that hooker and played Daniel Cleaver and it turns out he's actually a complete asshole who plays one character and then occasionally gets a role in which which does not require acting (see: Cleaver in Bridget Jones, also, About A Boy).

The night before I left I didn't want to sleep because I had to leave for the airport at 2 to catch a 5:30 flight out of Boston since I had no idea what to expect at security.*** So Julie and Libby and I went to see Avatar (Ju was nice enough to see it again) at 10 pm. Good times. It was purty. I recommend the 3d version. Even if you actually have to buy a ticket.

This weekend I saw Leap Year (silly but fun), Invictus (just, wow. Go see it, really), and New Moon (Oh Em Gee, it was like, rilly rilly funny? But, like, I don't think it was supposed to be? You can cut the teen angst with a knife. But it'll dull your knife.)

***Thank you, Mr "I'm not just happy to see you that's a bomb in my pants" Christmas Terrorist, for the extra wait times and the pat-down at security. It was special.

Awesome Hilariousness from The Oatmeal

2009-12-30T17:00:00.000-08:00

Grammar tips

Newport

2009-12-19T20:02:00.000-08:00

Zach wanted to take TLG* to Newport to show her around and Katie and Julie and I decided to help him (we didn't want him to miss anything). Unfortunately this meant that by the time everyone was able to go it was dark and thus cold(er). But we managed to have fun anyway.

*Zach's girlfriend Christy's blog pseudonym shall henceforth be The Lovely Girlfriend. Because, quite simply, she is.

We tried on hats in the Army/Navy store.

We did some shopping and drove past some of the mansions.

Then we needed a pee break and decided to crash an upscale hotel/former mansion in the middle of a swanky party they were hosting. We got some strange looks from the dressed-up partygoers but managed not giggle OR take pictures of the fancy-schmancy bathroom until they were gone.

Gah

2009-12-18T20:02:00.000-08:00

R.I., here comes the snow: blizzard watch for southern coastline

I AM the Law 'Round These Parts, Mister

2009-12-17T20:46:00.000-08:00

I'm staying with my sister, Lib and her family. They live as far from anywhere as you can get without leaving Rhode Island. My niece and nephew are criminally cute. Or possibly just criminal...

I've fallen somewhat in Luke's estimation because I really suck at Lego Indian Jones, his favorite Wii game, but he still climbed into bed and snuggled with me the first morning I was here. Bailey doesn't remember me but after a day or two of hugging mommy's leg and shouting "No!" at me every time I entered the room, she's warmed up and gives me voluntary kisses and hugs.

Today I went to my friend Amanda's house. I've known Amanda since we were roughly 11 years of age. She made me eat two cookies and a cinnamon roll/apple pie concoction that she whipped up on the spot. I protested (you know, gentle readers, that I normally shun such rich fare and prefer a tasty vegetable dish over a cookie any day) but she insisted and I didn't want to be rude so I ate it all and pretended to like it. The burdens this friendship puts on me, people.

Home?

2009-12-13T08:37:00.000-08:00

I have been needing to write. Composing words in my head. Half-writing posts and then getting pulled back into the craziness of the last weeks before the holidays and a long trip home. I feel good. A little time and distance and a chemically balanced brain have made me feel like a different person. I've felt better in the last few weeks than I have in months.

Now I'm home in RI. It's cold and there is snow on the ground and I'm immersed in the conflicting mix of emotions that being with my family brings. It took about 20 minutes for the first remark that made me wish I was back in California. I have made a life for myself there with people who I can be real and honest with. I've fought to shed the armor I needed growing up here, but when I come home I find that that means I am vulnerable. There are few things I hate more than that.

I'm constantly reminded of the fact that I am alone. My four nearest siblings are all married or in relationships. I keep thinking about Daniel in the middle of the night. I don't know why. He was supposed to have been here, that was the plan. I don't want to be with him. But I keep thinking anyway...

I can't sleep and I've chewed a hole in my lower lip, but this morning a little boy climbed into bed and snuggled with me and that helped. The last time I snuggled with him there were still traces of babyhood, not now. He's a boy now; all long legs and missing tooth and going to school. He tried to teach me how to play Lego Indiana Jones but I am a failure at video games.

My niece is still not sure about me. In her world there are a few good people- Mommy, Daddy, grandparents, the familiar aunties- and the rest are potentially scary. But she's warming up. Tonight she came over and gave me a hug and a kiss and I didn't even have to bribe her. I got to see my brother's sons for a little while before their mother decided on a whim to move out of state on a few hours notice and showed up to take them away. I'm not sure if I'll be able to see them again before I leave. We're never sure of anything where my brother's ex is concerned.

I want to go home. I want to be here but still be able to go home and sleep in my own bed at night. I want... I don't know what I want.

Happy pills: Day 5

2009-12-03T20:18:00.000-08:00

I can breathe again. Thank you.

Choices

2009-11-30T09:30:00.000-08:00

I am sure you are tired of this. I'm tired of it too. It's all I've got right now.

There is nothing wrong with taking a drug that keeps you from wanting to kill yourself.

I need to be on antidepressants; this does not make me weak. Or maybe it does, perhaps it's okay not to be strong.

Why do I struggle with this so much?

Daniel didn't exactly approve of anti-depressants. He never told me not to take them but he approved and encouraged me when I decided to wean myself off of Prozac. In one of the last conversations we had, post break-up, he asked if I'd started taking them again. When I admitted that I'd taken just one small dosage the day before, after a day of dry-heaving sobs that I wasn't sure I could manage a repeat of, he expressed dismay. He said it was only because he know how hard a time I'd had getting off of them but I heard disapproval in his voice. Whether it was really there or only in my imagination I immediately stopped thinking about the possibility of going back on the drugs. He was right, I'd had months of side effects (even though I never had any while I was actually taking the damn things) even though I decreased the dosage incredibly slowly. It would be ridiculous to start back up only a few months later.

Why on earth would I let myself be affected by the opinion of someone who I know all too well hasn't figured out how to handle his own emotions or deal with his own issues?

Still I keep arguing with myself: this is circumstantial, you know why you're sad. It's painful when a relationship ends, but it happens all the time and you should be able to get through it. My rationale seems to be that it's not true depression if there's a reason behind the despair. But for me it's always circumstantial. My bouts of depression are triggered when life knocks me down and I can't seem to pick myself up again. So it makes sense that now would be a reasonable time for me to call the doctor and ask her for a prescription again. Except for the small cold voice that whispers in the back of my mind, "I don't want hope. I don't want to keep trying. It only leads to more pain. I just want an end to it."

Thanksgiving

2009-11-29T16:29:00.000-08:00

I was not doing so well last week. A kind and perceptive friend dragged me home Wednesday night to her family's house in Sacramento. My head started to hurt on the way there. A 15 hour migraine had me pacing the floor and vomiting all that night. By Thanksgiving I was so worn out and grateful to be past the worst of the physical pain that I didn't have much room left over to feel much else. Unfortunately, the numbness wore off. I'm not doing so well again.

Shuffle Off

2009-11-24T11:02:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was bad. Everyday is bad but yesterday was especially bad. I don't know why. I am getting worse, not better. I don't know how to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And I don't want to keep trying. I don't want to be here anymore.

I can't convince myself that this will ever stop hurting, or if it matters, since every time I get back on my feet it's only to be knocked down again, harder than the last time. That my life will ever get to a place where I'm doing more than just hanging on until the next disaster hits. Because in some ways it feels like that's what I've been doing for the last four years. I'm hanging on by my fingernails and hoping that the next tremor won't shake me loose and that's not to say that there haven't been good things or joy; there have, but fear and uncertainty and sadness are always lurking in the background. I need to know that there will be a place where I can just rest, but I'm all out of hope.

I'm angry at God. I don't feel like He's listening. I don't feel like He cares.

I don't want to be here anymore.

My Favorite Quote of the Day

2009-11-18T11:40:00.000-08:00

"I've come to the conclusion that the media isn't out to change our minds politically or brainwash us into some Orwellian fog of compliance. I think there are definitely some outlets that are more biased than others. Fox leans to the right. We know this. MSNBC leans just as strongly the opposite way. We know this too. CNN just leans which ever way Larry King's suspenders pull it. So, fine, some have an agenda but I'm not cynical enough to think that the mainstream media is actually trying to brainwash us or change our minds. No, they're just out to make a buck. And they'll pretty much whore themselves to the highest bidder for the almighty dollar." -Chris at Rude Cactus

I especially like the part about Larry King's suspenders.

Update

2009-11-15T15:33:00.000-08:00

Nothing too fascinating to report here. I don't feel up to being witty.

I'm still sad. I still cry a lot, frequently in unexpected and embarrassing situations. I'm kind of a bummer to be around at the moment, but luckily my friends still put up with me. Zach's a pretty awesome brother to have around. I've decided that- should ever have any desire to date again- future suitors will have to get the Zach seal of approval. I should listen to him more often.

I'm volunteering with the jr. high group at my church. Today was my first day. It was kinda terrifying. I felt a little like I was in jr. high again only this time I was taller (that is to say, there are a few 6th graders there who are still shorter than me). I can't wait for the first time a parent mistakes me for one of the kids.

My most faithful blog reader and dear friend Lisa is coming to visit this week. I plan to reminisce about how she used to have to lock herself in her bedroom as soon as she got home from work when we were roommates to prevent me from attacking her with a verbal torrent of, "OHMYGOSHIHAVEN'TSEENANOTHERGROWNUPALLDAYLETSTALKANDTALKANDTALK!!!!!!!"

I plan to threaten her with the sleeping in the loft of death (tm) if she gets out of hand, but as I remember, she's pretty well behaved. Seriously, Lisa, if you still have an internet connection: I can't wait to see you!!!

I'm going home for Christmas, which will be good. Thanksgiving, I wish I could just skip, but I'm thinking about working for extra money (I know, who hires a nanny on Thanksgiving, right? But according to the accursed nanny agency there's good money to be made. Only in Silicon Valley, friends). It's not that I don't have kind friends who've invited me to their Thanksgiving celebrations, I just don't know if I can deal with celebrations.

I'm reading a long biography of the James family. Plus finishing up rereading the Narnia chronicles. I feel an urgent need to get to the library today before it closes because I only have one book left to read!!! Clearly this is an emergency.

So that's it. I'm trying not to get sucked under. I'm trying to remember that I don't have the right to give up hope. I'm trying to believe that all things work together for the good of those who love Him. And I'm telling myself that just because I'm in the same place I was at the beginning of this year doesn't mean that I'm doomed to keep repeating my own damned history. Sometimes that's easier to believe than others.

And Now For Something Completely Different

2009-11-09T23:31:00.000-08:00

I found this wonderful short story and I had to share it with you.

Eugene

It will take you ten minutes to read and I promise it will brighten your day. Enjoy!

2009-11-05T12:37:00.000-08:00

"Yes, you will!" persisted Jo. "You'll get over this after a while, and find some lovely accomplished girl, who will adore you, and make a fine mistress for your fine house. I shouldn't... we should quarrel--we can't help it even now, you see--and I shouldn't like elegant society and you would, and you'd hate my scribbling, and I couldn't get on without it, and we should be unhappy, and wish we hadn't done it, and everything would be horrid!" - Little Women

I always hated Jo for turning Laurie down. I sympathized with his fury and hurt and couldn't understand how she could fail to want him, no matter what the obstacles were. Surely they could have made things work. I don't feel that way anymore. I wish I'd been strong enough to insist that we leave our friendship as it was.

My eyes are swollen. I can't stop crying. I can't find any peace. I sleep and dream about Daniel and I making each other unhappy. I wake up to migraines, relieved that, for the moment, I'm so grateful to be out of the nightmares that I have no doubts about what I'm doing. But in the morning I think about talking to him last night and laughing through my tears and feeling his hand on mine. The intensity of our fights has always been matched by the deep friendship and rapport we reestablish when we make up. He makes me laugh like no one else. I love being with him.

I can't bear this.

I want to go home.

I want to go to my true home, where there are no tears. Where I can see my God face to face and feel His arms around me. Today I don't care about anything but making the pain stop. I know that my suffering is small compared to most things but feels to me like it encompasses the whole world. I don't want to pick myself up and keep trying. I don't have it in me to ever go through this again, but I'm not strong enough to walk through the world alone. I can't remember the last time I felt joy without doubt and fear pulling at the back of my mind.

There's no way out of this that won't shatter my heart into a million pieces. I love him, and I cherish our friendship, and the thought of him being happy with someone else someday makes me want to scream and cry and punch walls and then curl up into a ball and sob. I know that that is what's best for him, but I don't want it to be true.

I'm so tired of having to be strong. I don't want to make the hard decisions. I don't know if I have the strength to walk away if he wants me to stay. I don't know how to let go. But I don't know how to stay when I've heard God telling me clearly that I'm to walk away.

Here is Here

2009-11-03T23:38:00.000-08:00

I'm at that point where everything I see reminds me of him, or us. A random phrase evokes an inside joke we shared. His sweatshirt lying in the laundry pile. The dance class we were taking meets tonight. Friends who started dating the same week we did talk about planning a trip for their six-month anniversary.

I want to hear his voice. I want to feel his arms around me again. I want to change my mind, ask him to forget that I told him goodbye and take me back again.

I know it wouldn't last. I know we'd end up back here. I know my heart would end up further bruised and so would his, but there are moments where I just don't care. It's all I can do to keep myself from picking up the phone.

I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of feeling hurt. I'm tired of wondering if what seems to happen so easily for so many people will ever happen for me.

I want to stop caring, how do I do that?