Pants O' Mirth

Isn't it odd that even though some dumbass (don't know for sure, but I bet it was Congressional) pitched a whiny inequality fit and got hurricanes named after men alternatively , that the chick names still reign supreme? I remember asking as a young child (before the change) why hurricanes were always named after girls? I was told "because hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned". I was a quiet child, so I said "Oh." and walked off. No clue what that meant.

Well, Katrina damn sure had a score to settle.

I watched on TV as the melee unravelled. The hurricane in and of itself was a doozy, but the days that followed were horrific. Areas of Mississippi and Alabama simply decimated. Flattened. The levees breaking under the stress. The slow response of aid to people that had been evacuated to the Superdome in New Orleans. Then, later the shuttling to the Convention Center for "the buses are coming". I, like many, was wondering "How is this happening in the country where *I* live? GET THEM OUT of there!!!!" Didn't seem like rocket science to me.

Well they did. Finally. And brought many of them to my hometown of Houston, Texas. Which is historically a cool place to land when you're having a crappy day. (So long as you don't land on I-10 during rush hour, which comprises about 7 hours a day.) Houstonians have large hearts for the most part, and I've always been extremely proud to be one.

I've been told that I'm too idealistic. I'm also admittedly cynical. Welcome to the duality that is a Gemini. But when people around me are hurting, I hurt too. This goes for family, friends, acquaintances having a bad day, whatever. I wish at times I could be more removed, and I sometimes have to forcibly remove myself because it will seriously take a toll on me...I'll find myself worrying more about a situation than the actual person involved. I'm a control freak like that. I just want things fixed. I like people to be happy....or, at least as happy as they can get. I do my best to help wherever needed. And sometimes, things are just too frigging huge to fix....and that drives me batty.

So. My friend A. calls me, she's searching for volunteer opportunities. We decide that the Food Bank needs us Saturday morning, and another place needs us to serve dinner to people that same evening. Somewhere between point A and point B, things get mixed up and the Food Bank gig gets cancelled. Which is not a bad thing actually for me, because my back gets kinda pissy when I move heavy stuff repeatedly, and food is heavy stuff.
At this point, the Astrodome is now full..... so they open up the George R. Brown Convention Center to evacuees, and I decide that I will simply head down there the next morning, as surely they will need people on hand to help.

I didn't tell anyone where I was going. Especially not by myself. My mother, and very possibly my boyfriend, may have had conniptions, as we were still hearing hype about fights and assaults coming out of the Astrodome. Was it hype? Don't know. I can vouch that if I haven't eaten a meal in 8 hours, you're gonna have a fight on your hands with me. I won't even approach what 3-5 days would be like. It wouldn't be cute.

I arrive at 7:30 am for orientation. At this point they have taken in roughly 200-300 people that came in overnight from the Convention Center in N.O. They brief us on what needs to be done at the moment and then categorize us into 2 groups. She used the word "chicken hearted", like I've heard my mom say. If you fell into the chicken hearted group, I now know that they would find something for you to do where you didn't have any actual contact with the people. Oddly enough, the group split pretty evenly into "don't come over here if you can't stand up and say no, if need be" and " chicken hearted". I steeled up, and went with the NCH group, hoping I hadn't misjudged myself. They briefed us on what to do if a fight broke out, if someone tried to take too many items offered, etc.

Until the next load of buses came in, and while the current group was eating breakfast, we sorted through clothing donations. We were warned that "some of this stuff should have hit the garbage 20 years ago, but, until we know how many people we have coming in, just sort it by size and we'll cross that bridge later."

Sort, sort, sort.
"OMG! LOOK... STIRRUP PANTS!"
"wow, Look at this, remember Fido Dido?"
"Well, who knows....maybe someone still LIKES granny boots...it could happen"

And then I found them. Pale pink. Silk. Size 8. SEQUINED. No, seriously. Pink, silk, sequined pants. Sequins about a half inch around. Clear, and iridescent.

Liza Minelli doesn't own a pair of pants like this. And that's saying something.

All morning long, I was wondering "What can I do to help? What is my strength? What am I good at that they need? What is it that makes me valuable and loved in my friends eyes? Is it something that I can offer these people too?" I try to comfort my pals, and I try to make them laugh.

When I saw the pants, I knew I'd found my muse.

I set them off to the side of the table full of womens size 8(ish) pants. And when people started meandering in, searching out 2 outfits apiece, until they could come back through for more in 2 days, I brandished these damn pants at them. Some spewed immediately, others searched my face uncertainly as if to surmise, "Oh no, she is NOT seriously trying to give me THOSE" or "Would it seem ungrateful if I burst forth laughter at these hideous pants????" To those that looked uncertain, I grinned and said "It's the THOUGHT that counts, RIGHT?!?" and therefore they giggled, and most outright busted up along with me. Then I helped them find proper stuff. Because homeless or not, belonging-less or not, these people's TASTE did not get washed away by Katrina. Thank God.

And to the once owner of these now infamous pants, which I have no doubt are still on a table in the George R. Brown Convention Center, I have 2 statements.....

1) Thank You, from the bottom of my heart, for giving us a lifeline to smile. Laughter is the absolute best medicine in situations such as this.

2) How the hell uncomfortable was it to sit down in those bad boys????



Sleep tight, our new Houstonians, we'll do our best to boost you up. :)

School Daze....

Well, this begins our 4th grade year for Miss K.

Looking back, I feel like I kinda jacked things up for her early on. Kindergarten was her very first experience with any type of "away from mom" gig. I was a stay at home mom for her first 4 years, and she was a very curious child, always full of questions, and I made it my mission that if I didn't know the answer, we'd find it out, together. This led to lots of chemistry experiments on the porch, and growing beans in a Ziploc bag taped to a window sill, and reading and exploring. I could lie and say I did it all for her benefit, but it was hella fun for me to see the light go on in her head, and to experience all the "discoveries" the second time around in my adult life.

She was reading and writing at about 4. We had issues with her telling "tall tales" (ok, lying to make things more interesting, whatever) so I got her a journal and told her to write her tales down, and tell people the truth. And she did.

So, Kindergarten looked like a hella cool place to be at first. But within the first week, she discovered boredom. Badly. And then 2 things happened in one week that kind of derailed school for a bit. One was 9/11. The other, although it pales in comparison to most adults, is that 3 kids threw up on the Happy Circle rug in the space of about 15 minutes. I don't know exactly what the teacher said or did, but she was kind of a punchy woman. I think she drank at night. A LOT. And this event, coupled with the bizarre day of 9/11, where frenzied teary parents were showing up to pick up their kids, made K decide school just wasn't for her.

So began 2.5 years of the worst mornings ever in the history of mornings. Crying, begging, stout refusal, cash offers, slave willingness. Every attempt was tried. Explanations of mommy going to jail if she didn't go to school fell on deaf ears. I was even told once that "Jail isn't that bad of a place". heh. I would have to bodily remove her from my car every morning, wailing, and then cry all the way back to my office. I hate bad mornings.

Her 1st grade teacher was a sage, wise older woman that had been teaching 1st grade since Jesus went to school. She told me at our conference about her daughter, who performed the same strategies that K was doing....until 4th grade. I was both thankful for her understanding of why a teary eyed genius wanna be showed up in her classroom each day, and horror stricken that this could go on for 3 more years.

But it didn't. Somewhere in the beginning of second grade, I guess she finally caved. We were going to make her go, that was that, may as well just do the time. Grades were great throughout this melee.

So....4th grade. Almost done with elementary school. Wow.

We pull up to the school, she's itching to get back in class, because "4th grade is the year of the WRITING TAKS Test, Mom, and you KNOW how much I love WRITING!"

I open my mouth to tell her how proud I am that she's come so far and hear instead, "OHMYGOD LOOK MOM IT'S JESSICA FROM CAMP!!!" followed by a slam of the car door.

I manage to get "I love y..." out of my mouth. She didn't hear. Oh well. It's written on the napkin in her lunch too.

Good luck in 4th grade, K....keep reaching for the stars.

Time to vent.

OK, I try to do my best to keep shit entertaining all up in here, even when it's not funny, but I need to vent about my baby daddy. I'm just gonna puke it all here because its nothing that there's really a solution to, and I'm at the point where my friends and my boy probably are sick to death of hearing it. I would never rag him to my own child. And hey, like Bill Cosby used to say on the intro to the old school Fat Albert, if you're not careful, you just might learn something.
You know what? I'm not even gonna bore ya with the details. Because it doesn't matter. Bottom line, he hurt my daughter's feelings, third night in a row, by breaking promises to see her, and this is just the way it rolls far too often. He couldn't hurt my own feelings with a blow torch anymore, but my kiddo is golden. You hurt her, and I'm pissed. Getting your feelings hurt bites ass, especially when you're a 9 year old girl, but moreso, when it starts chipping away on your tiny female psyche. Because lately, she'll say things like "my dad hates me or he wouldn't do this." And that's what pounds on me. He doesn't hate her, he just loves his own agenda more than anything or anyone alive. (notice I didn't say he loves himself) And her statement riddles me with feelings and thoughts I can't make my own peace with.

Feeling #1 - How the hell did I manage to saddle her with such an asshat?
This was posed to me recently, and I can say in all honesty that he simply changed. Looking back, he was pretty near normal that first couple of years. I think he thought he'd found happiness. What I didn't know was that he hadn't found it before for very long. He just isn't a happy person. Happiness is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, you chase and chase, but can't catch it. People that can't be happy are insatiable in their efforts, because the grass is always greener. People like that are usually the ones who cheat on others in relationships. Or are hip deep in debt. Or switch jobs every 6 months. There's always something they don't have that's missing. A Blonde, a bigscreen TV, a better boss, etc. Others can't help with this. It's all up to the person to be satisfied with the person they are, and life and what they have.

Feeling #2 - The Whole Daddy Thing. I'm clueless here. I grew up without a paternal figure around. I don't whine about it, my mom did a fantastic job (duh, just LOOK at me! heh!) but the guilt thing can arise from this. Did I misjudge due to this? Don't know. Can't say. Pointless to dwell on. I've had good relationships and bad ones, would still have lunch with most of them. Which is why all this action with her own dad wigs me out so badly. I can honestly say that if we didn't have a child together, we wouldn't have made it past 2 years, it would have been a "dude, take anything you want, just GO" kinda divorce, and would have never spoken again. I busted it to make things work for her sake. I still do. He's her Dad. But it's so trying at times. A situation arose recently where all he wanted to be was rid of her early on his weekend. Do I cave and let him get his way, and jack up my plans? Or do I leave her there in the midst of a temper tantrum from someone way to old to be throwing one? In the end, I caved. As a mom, I couldn't deal with the feelings she must be having as he ranted on the phone such as "He really wants me gone this badly?" I cried all the way home worried that this dickhead would jeopardize what I now have with someone that makes me happy.

Feeling #3 - The whole daughter thing. More guilt than possible to calculate there. Its been said a million times that we grow up to marry a man resembling our father. Because we hold them dear, no matter what, usually. We can overlook things, because they're Daddy. Again, no experience with this on my own part. But I see K doing it. She vaccillates back and forth between "I'm not going talk to him anymore, I'm just going to see how long it takes him to call" and trying her best to see the good in him. But given the above reference, I worry for who she will be picking out for her own someday. Will she allow herself to be treated badly, because she's used to it from the main man in her life? Ick, squared.

I try to live my life on a "no regrets" policy. If you do it, own it. I got an amazing gift from this person, and that is my daughter. She is incredibly smart, quirky, vivacious, caring, maddening, beautiful, argumentative, and charming when she feels like being so. I'm blessed with a good family, a plethora of friends, a wonderful man in my life and enough money to get by.

So, just take this for the rant it is, and maybe I'm cleansed. For now.

;)

after weeks...I finished my 100 things.

OK so every blog I visit has a "100 things" list. These consume me. Why? I do not know. But for some reason, I dig knowing a whole lot about poeple I didn't know anyway, so here are mine.

100 Things about Ctal


I'm a native Houstonian.
I like my eye color.
I came very close to being able to do a piked double back flip(diving) in 10th grade.
I would not attempt a single piked back flip today. That shit's crazy.
My favorite muscle on the human body is the tricep.
I could live without television, but not without my PC or radio.
Yes, I've been flipped out, head over heels in love before.
No, my husband wasn't one of them.
If I have a headache, I want aspirin. Ulcers be damned, keep your Tylenol.
If I had to pick a food that I must consume for at least one meal a day for life, it would be cheeseburgers. So long as they came from different establishments, I could so do this.
I will stand in a lotion/bathstuffs aisle forever, just smelling all the different scents.
People don't like to go into Bath and Body works with me for the above reason.
I HATE to shop. Especially for me.
RE: above....unless I'm supposed to be shopping for others, then it all looks good to me.
Complete strangers have stopped me to tell me I look like Steffi Graf when I have my hair in a ponytail.
Complete idiots have stopped me to ask if I WAS Steffi Graf. (Um, yeah, bonehead, Steffi Graf is bringing your drinks to your table. Eyeroll)
My favorite candle scents smell like food.
My favorite artist is Ty Wilson.
I'm not a risk taker.
I collect Hard Rock Cafe shirts. There will soon be enough to make a quilt out of all the logos and cities.
I love all things paranormal. Bring me all the ghost stories, UFOs, psychics, whatever.
When I was a kid, I planned to die by spontaneous combustion, because I thought that would be a cool way to go.
If I'm ever rich beyond my wildest dreams, I will keep some fool on staff to do my hair every morning and put my makeup on, because I hate to.
I will have some other fool to lay my clothes out.
But I will clean my own house.
I was a soprano in high school choir. If you've ever heard me talk, you know this is odd.
Re: above, I have nodes on my vocal chords, so I can't hit high stuff anymore. Seeing as Lew Perlman didn't show up to make a pop star out of me anyway, I never got it taken care of.
I can dislocate my shoulders at will.
I'm a pretty good mom, I think. Probably too lenient when I'm tired though.
My ultimate favorite flower in the world is Stargazer Lillies. Roses don't suck, but not as 'Sorry I fucked up' bequests.
I can't play any instrument. Well, does a kazoo count?
I have a high IQ, but probably couldn't tell you what I ate for lunch a couple of days ago.
I'm self diagnosed ADD. If you ever watched me clean an entire house, you'd agree.
If they made alcohol free Bacardi, like they do fake beer, I'd drink that stuff all day, because I love the taste of my rum.
I love Motown music. The Temptations are the coolest thing since sliced bread.
If they took Diet Coke off of the market tomorrow, I would probably be unconsolable.
Wardrobe malfunction or not, I think Janet Jackson is cool as hell.
John Mayer has the coolest weird little lips in the music industry.
I can't marry Johnny Rzeznik from the Goo Goo Dolls, no matter how much he wants me to, because Chantal Rzeznik just doesn't sound right.
Garth Brooks has some songs I can stand. (ssshhhh, don't tell anyone)
My favorite movie scene is from “Waiting to Exhale” when she piles all her cheating husband's stuff into his BMW in the street and sets it on fire. In a bathrobe. Hee. Then the fireman knocks on her door and says “you can't burn anything but trash in this neighborhood” and she says “It IS trash” hee. Yay for that.
When I run the world, there will be no dress code ever, anywhere. And I think that will make people get along a LOT better if they're hanging in board meetings in sweats and ponytails. Never underestimate the power of waking up late and having to toss the hair in a ponytail.
Every drink is imbibed out of at least a 32oz insulated mug (some are as big as 64...i have 5 of them) affectionately termed as my “woobies”
Best concert I ever attended was Prince with my girl KJ. Burned fingers be damned, he rocked.
I abhor feet. If an injury occurs, and I apply first aid to your foot...you KNOW I love the hell outta you, because I do NOT like feet.
I lost my virginity at 17 to a complete asshole that I was with for 2 years. Hindsights always 20/20.
A 4 year old could probably beat me at bowling.
But I'm told I have a natural golf swing. (I would think a natural golf swing would make contact with the ball, though)
I once quit smoking cold turkey for about a year. Haven't been able to achieve that again.
If I'm sick in bed, bring me all the John Hughes movies from the 80's. I'm a geek like that.
I'm a pretty happy person just hanging all by my lonesome sometimes.
I rarely like a CD enough to actually buy it. I have to like at least a 4 song minimum for it to even qualify.
Best job I ever had, waiting tables. I'm a people person and made mad cash doing it.
I'm a complete night owl. Not my best until after 4 p.m.
I subsist on very little sleep due to the above.
If in a nightclub with my friends, I will be asked to dance by more than the average number of black males. No idea why, but it saves me from dancing with badly dancing white males, so whatever.
I smoked my first cigarette at 19.
First drink (bleh) was a bottle (pint) of Highland Mist scotch, split with a gaggle of house wrapping accomplices at 13.
I have never touched scotch again since that night. And never will.
I used to sleepwalk as a child...right up and out of the house, even got lost once when my Grandma had moved, wandered around in a Tshirt and underwear for an hour.
Much as I love to eat, if I'm depressed or heartbroken, I have no appetite. If I could find three heartbreaks in rapid succession, I'd be back to my ideal weight of 140 in a heartbeat.
Coming down I45 into downtown, I see my city's skyline and smile...everytime.
I think gay bars are HELLA fun!
I'm a reality TV junkie. Although, now it's more like “reality” TV.
I was born in the 6th month of '66...coincidence? I don't think so. ;)
I love to laugh...only thing I like more is making others laugh.
If I find you don't have a sense of humor, you will get absolutely NOWHERE near in my pants. Ever. Even if you look like Matthew McConaughey.
In my opinion the coolest technological invention besides the PC is Caller ID.
I'm pretty financially responsible, it would just be easier to do with more money.
In fact, I'm pretty damn frugal, period. Coupons, clearance sales, all of it.
At least 3 times during childhood, I told my mom that I just “somehow KNEW” that I would die before I grew up.
My mom is kind of a basket case now when it comes to worrying.
I will not buy cheap tennis shoes. Ever.
If I could hang out and chat and crack a bottle of wine with one person I've never met, it would be Maya Angelou.
The trait I admire most in others is balls. But only when used intelligently.
I probably go without breakfast maybe 4 times a year...it's that important.
I lost my best friend to AIDS. Worst death I've ever witnessed, doubt it will be beaten.
I have some nice jewelry, but very rarely remember to wear it.
I can't draw for shit.
My handwriting starts out OK, but quickly disintregrates to deplorable.
I don't like to cook, but baking is OK.
Wicked thunderstorm = Barry White singing “lets get it ON”
I'm not a princess, or a wimp about hard work.
I'm extremely hard to goad into a fight, but if you're trying to, best way to do it is to leave me to my own thoughts for a while after pissing me off or hurting my feelings.
80's fashions should be brought back, post haste.
Perfect food, outside of cheeseburgers...Pizza. All 4 food groups squarely represented.
I'm rarely quiet and not talking. If I am, there may be reason to worry.
I check my bank online and balance stuff out EVERY day.
I have never cheated on anyone, ever. Hairdressers don't count. Because those are relationships to chicks. But if someones throwing free product your way, hey, yay for that.
You'll never catch my toes not painted a cute color. They do get a polish break, just not visibly.
I can construct fairly killer sand castles.
I'm a Gemini, and can usually see both sides of a subject, to a fault. After a bit of putting my self in other's shoes, I may not even know my own position on a matter.
OK I hit writers block here, so I contracted my 9 year old secretary and accomplice in all misadventures to finish the list of me....
Her mom calls her “precious”
She makes up songs for people.
Every other Saturday is our party night.
Her party food is chex mix
She is a Disney freak.
She squints when she's thinking or looking at you weird.
She loves me.

He's in my world.

OK. So. I'm a person thats pretty happy with my own solitude. I have friends and phone calls enough to do me well. I'm happy in my own skin so to speak, and I'm a mom, so that keeps me busy. But...
The other day I was cleaning the mirror in my bathroom, and I noticed a couple of toothbrushes and razors in the cup by the sink. And a shaving cream lid on the counter.

He's in my world. And that so doesn't suck.

About Balance...

Ok. Lets see.

1. My neck hurts like hell today.
2. I'm terribly unfond of my job and its less than formidable income.
3. Job market bites ass.
4. No clue what Christmas holds in store for my kiddo, or what funds will be available.
5. I didn't marry a sane person, so I cannot divorce a sane person.
6. I have undeletable spyware on my PC.
7. My sweatpants have a hole in the crotch, and this seasons sweats for women don't have elastic around the ankle, which is a necessity.
8. My Levis are a size 12 tall, Gap jeans are a 10 reg...whats up with that? Either way, I'm offended.
9. My best pal Angie is pregnant, and I worry about her killing someone with a spork. 5 more months to go, tickticktick.
10. The last three celestial events that have happened have been covered up by clouds and rain, so no dragging the telescope out.


However...
I have opened one eye several times a night for the last 3 nights and found the arms of the coolest man alive wrapped all around me, smiled, and gone back to sleep. And that cancels out all that other stuff up there for now :)

Wacky Words

I had thought that as my kiddo got older, I would lose out on those "wrong word moments" they have when trying to expand their vocabulary. I was wrong.
K (rushing in to hear a song I had in the CD drive) : "OMG! Who is that???"
me: "It's the Eagles."
K:" Oh wow, I LOOOOVE the anaconda version of that song!!!"
me: "You mean ACOUSTIC."

hee! I love my kid!

Pride

Today, I'm attempting to have K, the 8 year old, clean her room. It's reminiscent of a Red Cross disaster film in there. She is not wanting to participate. I tell her that it's a fire hazard, seriously...get rolling.
Me: "Come ON, have some pride in what your living space looks like."
K: "Mom, Pride is one of the seven deadly sins"

Me: *blink*

Moving Day

OK so I found this site, and like it better than the one my currently running and not updated nearly enough journal is on, so I'm moving in. And I'm taking my old posts with me. So when you see all this stuff happening on the same day and think, "Man that was one busy day" it really wasn't. :)

Welcome to my World.