Just call me Betty C.

Go ahead and make fun, but I can't help but find the following recipe a-mazing. Apparently you can store this on your counter like, forever, to have on hand whenever you're in the mood for a homemade pie? We're crediting Grandma on this one.

Pie Crust Mix

6 cups flour
1 tbsp salt
2 1/3 cups Crisco

Measure out dry ingredients, cut in Crisco. Store in Tupperware. When ready to make a pie, use 1 1/2 cups of mix + 3 tbsp (cold!) water.

In other baking news, look out. Apparently it's not just a mean trick anymore. It's a crime.

To the Employed

Wow. So this may be the best job ever except when I worked for my director- who i sort of view as a surrogate brother, so you can't really compare. But the last 2 days I've really been their third, lesser used, brain. Yesterday we watched JudgeJudy and DrPhil and I got invited along to take the dogs for a walk. I learned about their birthdays and their ages... Okay, so who is 'they'... why the producer/talents of the show about that catch phrase about juice and creativity..on the Do//It//Y... and so far it's a very good time. Although on my first day I smacked into a jeep cherokee and was 10+minutes late to work. It was more ridiculous than it sounds but it still points to me being a jackass and yes, totally incompetent. Brain failure (which ironically enough i was spelling: failier, failor. yes, i am special.) Anyway it totally distresses me. So we're working out of the producers house and I had to park on this steep side street and on the descent i was pulling too close to this guys bumper and as my car is a small ton lead weight, i decided to tap the accelorator in order to avoid his bumper, unfortunately for me i had not placed the car in DRIVE but was still in REVERSE. WTF. (Dumbass). I floor it and go bashing into his car, wrenching off his license plate, scratching up my car- along with 2 deep dimple, bolt marks... and as I wait all day for some angry call to come I see on the way home the 'For Sale' sign on the back of the car. The next day i notice it is moved a space up and still no call has come. So i wonder and wait for my beratement. Bad girl. Bad person. I am going to take all the money in your piggybank. You are a bad stupid girl driver. You do not deserve a license. So I called the producer and said, hey yah, um I'm "parking"... I'll be right there, I say. And the rest of the day progressed merrily along...

Which reminds me about my fortune and it reads: You will have gold pieces by the bushel. It makes me laugh everytime I see it- in all its biblical proportions- bushels... birds... the root of evil. so, besides...

The only trick now will be how to slip the personal time into this intense work environment- a little email checking, phone message looking... but alas it will not be the same as hours of free time to do what I please and get paid for it. And there's no wandering around the office. I may work for my keep and become weary and long for the weekend, but we'll see. I can only imagine that the next 10months will be the most fantastic ever- and thank you guys for your well wishes! I will try to stay non-injured, employed and in a positive mind frame in order to accomplish all said goals... and of course am going to take mental note of all entertaining anecdotes to relate to you- my beautiful blog people.

Blogs to come: judgement, photoalbums and uh...

tree!

I'm totally feeling some kind of Blogger's Guilt these past few days not posting--and when there's sooo much to say about ANTM's evil Jade! And to ponder whether BJ and Tyler will win the Amazing Race! And to do a little happy dance that Crazy Shane finally got the steel-toed boot off of Survivor! Clearly I'm being entirely too social. More soon, more soon, I promise. In the meantime, I give the yard's new tree, a gift from the in-laws for K.Lo. (Originally to be a house warming gift for A.Lo and J.Lo, but I digress...)

Japanese Weeping Cherry: reddish fall foliage, pink spring blossoms!

Ah Glorious Weekend

Hello Beautiful People.

Twas a lovely weekend. An actual weekend. Couched like bookends upon the week. Resplendint. After strolling thru the valley yesterday I came home today and celebrate siete? de mayo in style. And with some grilled carne asada and daquaris i've toasted in Spring... and am actually musing about other social things I might do later in the month- like attempt to throw a party? or... ? something? It might be too social for me. I think the last one I threw was 2 years ago. That's about right. It takes me that long to gear up- some sort of post traumatic stress something from somewhere. Any suggestions about possible scenarios...

Otherwise tomorrow i start the job that may very well last 10months and pay off my quite substantial credit card debt! and 2 private loans! yea! and fund my trip to nicaragua and allow me to buy purple paint and get a manicure and be fiscally responsible... and um other stuff. oh shit man it's ENDLESS... sort of. but such a promising beginning. i got a fortune cookie to end all fortune cookies last sunday that said i would get gold coins in bushels... or something. i'll have to show you later bcs the idea of going thru bushels to get gold might not work for me. so the phrasing is very important! more on the new job soon.
starting at 9am...monday...the 8th...

xo. M.

People!

Please people do not ever email something like this to people EVER. frickin CATHY!

spent 2 horrible hours at the tb doctor
bad news, dilemma
will call to explain later

Under the Wire

Ah well. what am i to do. Today is my last day at this film company- where i've been doing office assistant reception stuff. I think my favorite part of this job is just observing all the politics. people dynamics. what not. like just now someguy started talking firmly to another guy talking firmly in the lobby about ruining the film and not getting a final cut and the air became a bit tense but the minute anyone else walked by it was all smiles and hi! The days go by fast with all the phone answering and internet surfing. i have very rarely reached a slumped over position in my chair saying, god won't it end. although that's probably bcs i'm aware of it's finite nature. there is something fundamentally wrong with waking up at 730 to get to work early-ish before 9 to leave by 6! to not get home before 7. Bam. there goes the entire day. it's wretched. and if i have to go somewhere after then it's just figuring out a way to cross the also heinous traffic. wow. i'm seething inwardly, my chest is tightening. i have to take a deep breath. back, back in the deep dark box you go. everything is --- sun... shine! put on your happy face!

now normally i wouldve blogged about work a lot more but i've not been subjected to humiliating tasks or mundanity and there is no office joe to ponder about and i'm just under the radar that no one can really yell at or fire me no matter how "incompetent" I'm being or how slow i am to order coffee and not recognize the presidents voice. plus I can use whatever kitchen i want too- and only on one day did a few nasty people call and wonder why i existed just to not be able to help them. but i got to pull the, well i've only been here a few days so... even though they didn't buy it. how has it been 3wks- a total of 9 days.

Just now: "why doesn't anyone want to take responsibility for tracking prints." Other guy: blah blah something. This guy, "It's fucking ridiculous is what it is." Blah, blah something something.

But if you're still with me, let's talk about the boys. bcs the girls here are few and inbetween and most of them are far away from me and are older, crazier and so not cool. this one being sounds like risabel- just hangs up on me if i can't help her without so much as a thank you then calls in yesterday and tells me to tell her boss that she's not coming in. right. i'll do your dirty work. and then there's this girl, short for incorporated, that says inappropriate things about jesus and niggaz and has the air of someone who is pissed off about where she now finds herself. i understand, a lot of people are pissed off in this place. but right the boys: jesus' beloved is a bit of an asshole. not to me- mind you- but to this other guy who seems to be picked on and derided by all the boys bcs he has a hot silly girlfriend and bcs he seems too eager or restless or whyever boys bcm picked on by other boys. he also doesn't like sports which doesn't help this boy bcs the beloved loves them and so does the VP and the producers asst and incorporated, and the HR guy and about 3 other boys who talk about sports/ESPN (which are on in our office) with the corporate "we" and "our team" and "they will" and "are you crazy?!" bcs they're going all the way this year and your team sucks! so there! so the boy is left to study his GRE testbook and ponder film making or theory while an occassional condescending remark is thrown his way like: it's not your concern. don't worry about it. just go do your job. (as the smirks and eyerolls continue after his departure)

the beloved however has had it with this place and is seeking his fortune elsewhere and the priceless phrase "if i'm still doing this when I'm 30..." passed his poutty philadelphia lips i could not help but spread a wide grin at such a careless but truthful statement. Yes, beloved, yes, go seek your dreams. Otherwise I have nothing to say to this surly personage except once i said, "do you know anything about nuclear reactors?" and he smiled.

but my real heart is attached to the young presidential bear who serves this chaotic den of thieves. he always has a sad look in his eye of abject misery. i say something like, staving off the apocalypse? and he says, "no more so when they were trying to fire me yesterday." poor boy. as he stacks bottled water on the table he says, "yes you know, because this job is so meaningful and important to my life." i say, "aren't we all plotting our escape?" he smiles.

and then another overheard snippet: "I'm not giving so and so (the guy with the movie about the flower) more money. I already gave them 4 million. I'm not giving them anymore." blahblahblah etc etc.

so with that i kick up my feet. drink my bottled water and read the trades. variety, hollywood reporter- see if there's anything i care about happening in the world- and just today spotting a friend in the mag and knowing i'm in a different world indeed.

The Sort of Friend

I've often wondered where I fit in friendships. What role do I play. What do I fulfill. Sometimes all too aware of what I can't- either by distance or by disposition. I don't live next door. No, I won't go clubbing with you. Movies are expensive. Is this a good movie? Are you really sure? When. What time? I don't want to drive down there... (although in my defense my parched waters make me protective of my indulgences) Can't you get us 'comps?' Is that an LA thing? Comps. (Complimentary)... Someone must know someone so i can get in for free. No? Then I'm gonna go watch cable. Support the arts? Are you kidding- on my salary? Everyone I know is doing a show.

This Monday I went to see a friend that I've developed a comfortable pattern with. Perhaps a little too. I am her craft/creative/art/smart/bigword saying/cash-strapped/often jobless and in need of a TAB friend. I come over: we bike ride, we go for lunch, we watch tv (usually all day), we make ... whatever. I get invited to her holiday parties, I often see her family for a quilt show, an occassional lunch or dinner- and very rarely will she invite me to shop, to a bar, show or an outing with her other friends. That's the key, and thus I am containered. She is busy. She is scheduled. And I reside in a special place like summer and hiatus. It is not necessarily an unfavorable place to be. Because hanging out is a beautiful thing.

She and I were friends in highschool- and into college I heard from her once in a very blue moon. She was not in a good place- mostly. I always sent her Christmas cards. Into gradschool I heard somewhat more of her and now the last three years I've been back we've renewed and developed a friendship. But more likely I'm a close cousin to her entire clan. Her mom and dad know me. And I'm that fond recalling of a summer day a long time ago- She is one of the k-12 friends. I call her by her school name- which has morphed into another variation of the reigning queen of england. I know her brother and sisters. And I think they all fairly like me. Usually I pull people into my family but I rarely get to experience the otherside. I think this takes a particular kind of trust. I knew something was up when one of my friends of 10+ years never invited me around- either I was freakish or her family was. It's a potential powderkeg. I might say something. They might say something. And I often wonder what kind of friend is it better to be? Safe or site-specific.

QofE is, shall we say, guarded- to put it mildly. So I don't often pry and she's not what I would call loquacious. So months might pass before I discern her state of mind or the current events of her life- her loves, her out of loves, her frustrations and pains, biopsies (everything and all quietly sealed away.) From me? I don't know. With her I tend not to be paranoid, usually, but what can I say. So slowly I'm getting to know her- this girl I've known my whole life but somewhere developed into someone similar to the person I knew with day to day habits and experiences I know nothing about.

So came the weekend. Sunday night. She was on my side of the hill- and in LA this is very important. And this is probably why I don't see her more often. Impenetrable traffic. So she said, I'll come get you. I have to stop by the hospital (they don't know what's wrong) to see my niece. Then I'll bring you back Tuesday morning. Saving money on gas? (like $30 only paying for 9.3 gallons?!) Sure I said. Then, Do you want me to go up with you? Ya. Cool (and in the elevator) oh hey- when I get old pull the plug okay? I say. I hate hospitals, she says. Then we get to the door. I hear her say, M is here. M is here?! (enthusiastically) Yah, yah, she can come in. I look thru the little window to see QofE's 2 sisters, and the step-dad. I don't know entirely if the niece sang out her approval but I couldn't at this point refuse to enter- due to awkwardness, mortification or my utter avoidance of illness.

The 21year old niece doesn't look well- not deathbed ill, but definitely not well. Everyone seemed to be tenuously busying themselves with talk, cake, jokes about hospitals and wall colors, while their eyes were rimmed with something else. I hid myself behind a chair and tried to be inconspicuous. Sort of looking at the niece when she talked. Not addressing her but talking to her aunts, joining in on the occassional joke- because what the hell was I going to say? Nice to meet you. Feel better. Let me take the time to point out what everyone is trying to keep you from, and undo all this song and dance. It all seemed rather trite and lame when she was biting with frustration at the morphine making her nose itch or not being able to change positions and feeling unattractive, with tubes running out of everywhere. Make yourself invisible, that's what I tried. So then QofE and I find out that her sister was in the hospital once for a tubal pregnancy- wait she says, you 2 said it was for a cyst- I wasn't going to be able to keep it anyway, the aunt says. Oh, QofE says. Oh my god I think.

On the way out I ask the step-dad what's wrong and he tells me what he is mentally able to tell me. I say, I'll pray for her. Then a moment later, what breaks him: I say, that sucks. He says, Yes. Yes it does suck. And he walks away. The sister I know better says, Goodbye. It was good to see you. And on the freeway I ask QofE, Um- really- I hope it was okay that i was here, tell her I hope she feels better. What's wrong again? Well everything she has is just symptomatic of something... it could be cancer. She's been sick and fatigued for a month. And here I thought I was visiting the marginally ill, but I'd slipped in with QofE like a pillow, as a part of the family, into something very serious- a type of friend that she can take to the hospital and to the home that she shares with someone that she no longer loves. And I am depressed with her into a sadness that empathy brings- and then we sleep and have breakfast and go for a bikeride.

Tearing Up

I apologize for my lengthy absense of late- I've been 'social'. The malaise of February quite worn away, not that the gloom of 'what to do' for my bday isn't looming. I went to see the Tempest, spent the weekend gardening, bowling, bikeriding, monday with a friend... and today stretches before me, like a very tough taffy. And while one day I will incorporate this story into my California Epic I will impart it to you now free of charge as I'm not a money-agent-non/blog-whore.

I had an uncle who used to give me the coolest things ever- 2 costume jewelry pieces, which were consequently thrashed by this hard worn youth- But I saved them, mostly intact. By degrees I got less destructive and when, by dumpster diving, my costume jewelry collection increased I took care to bag and tag all the pieces and mark what was missing on each. And I've taken to wearing them now bcs you know, why not? But whenever I run across these 2 slightly mangled pieces I wish I'd taken just a little more care...

Now as you know we're all about the gardening and I hope one day to recover all the lost barbie shoes, necklaces and diamond earrings lost in the grass of my childhood, though I never have bcs mom won't let me replace the grass; so I am, reflexive or not, always looking for odd bits when I turn over the soil- things i've found: a bullet, lots of old broken glass, a minature army raft, a soldier, marbles-- and these were always on specific excavations. But a few mornings ago, while looking for sacrifices (grubs) to the mockingbirds (gods) I found one of the jems of the bracelet my uncle gave to me. Missing since at least 1991. I turned over the soil a couple times and up on the surface appeared this shiny triangle beauty, face up and waiting for me. 15 or so years later.

Why I'm glad it's May 2, 2006

I hardly blogged at all last summer, and recently I ran across one of the very few journal entries I wrote during that time, so as Blog Penance, I thought I'd share. The scene: 2 1/2 months into working at VZW, almost 2 months into pregnancy, and (apparently) pretty freaking miserable. Luckily, I've managed to block most of it out. But geeeeez. The entry smacks of melodrama, and (almost) makes me want to laugh, but on the other hand, it really was kind of awful at the time. Anywho...


June 20, 2005 - Monday

One day shy of 8 weeks. Puking status: on the verge but not quite legitmate. Spent M - F last week throwing up every day. So-called medicine for nausea doesn't stay down. B6-laced vitamins give temporary energy boost, Wednesday, Thursday, then Friday feels like a Monday again. This weekend's discovered quasi-cure: sitting outside in the recliner stadium chair for a mo. Deep breaths, perfect temperature, windchimes in breeze. Remember hard what it feels like to be "summer." Lawn mowers and fresh tomatoes from the garden. Bare feet and herb gardens. It works for a little while.

Personality feel like acid. I've become a "sulker," a ball of negative vibes. Think about work timeline: in the grand scheme, there's not much longer to go [I planned on working until around December and getting the fug out]. Six months, plus a little. Four or so more weeks until Trimester 2 [and supposedly the end of morning sickness, but it wasn't, at least not right away]. Your baby is healthy, be grateful. The girl next to you at work is experiencing pre-term labor at just over 6 months, with contractions 22 minutes apart. If they fall under 20, she'll have to leave for the doctor. She has 3 kinds of cancer and rolls Chinese chimes in her hand.

We're not allowed to ask [our supervisors] questions anymore, like it matters, since I'll still be wrong. We look to each other, fudge our way through the phone calls. Even when I'm surly, I'm pretty sure I sound pleasant. I feel the sarcasm pushing through: "Thank you for calling Verizon Wireless," and I mean that. [Heh.] I'm guilty because I don't keep up enough with emails anymore. I need to remember to breathe. I read Harry Potter book 3, then 2, then 1 until book 6 comes out on July 15th. It makes me happy, there's one thing. [Good lord.] A real distraction. TV doesn't do it [well there you go--clearly this was dire straits], nor do the good things. The house. We have to start packing.

Our office appeared on the 6 o'clock news like a nightmare: there was the the third floor, home of Customer Service. I thought about my old job and wonder how I could pay the bills if I went back. It was the only reason I left. I make what I want for dinner, big bowls of pasta, and can only eat falf. I worry my friends won't love me because I'm distracted [oh geez]. Whatever happened to me? Promise not to lose your personality, not long-term... [Blah blah blah.] I'm playing the Morning Sickness Card. [Blah blah.] I'm wrapping my head around the guppy baby and pondering crib patterns and nursery paints.

I'm having a circular conversation with a man on the phone, it's half an hour long and we've each repeated our sentences 15 times - is this the 4th or 5th circle of hell and how do you tell the difference?


And then I [blah] and [wah] a little more. Whew!

And all right, by the end it does make me laugh. Have I mentioned how much I hated that job?

Happy Tuesday.

8th & Ocean: An Ode of Questioning, Doubt

oh, 8th & Ocean
that show on MTV
i'm at a loss for answering
why do i watch you?

America's Next Top Model
ANTM
(but not "America's Next Top Best Friend"
ANTBF
to quote the Evil Jade)
you aren't.

while less staged
(I suppose)
and less of a game
(sort of)
about the world of modeling
you lack the
how you say
whimsy?
personality?
the...
je ne sai quoi
and the Jays!
Miss Jay
and Jay Manuel
of ANTM.

perhaps i shouldn't compare

apples and oranges
or
two different boxes of rocks.

what, then, do you offer?
pretty girls
chiseled men
exTREME close-ups
on faces
the twins Kelly and Sabrina
Britt, the preacher's daughter
one wants a boob job
the other does not
and the last
she cries a lot
about her boobs.

it's all about boobs, it seems.

then there's Vinci
he's rude and always late
but he's Italian,
which seems to make it okay.

and Irene,
the freaky manager
kind of like
Joan Rivers with long hair.

there's a certain vapidity in all their eyes
they don't say much
and there's a bunch of other characters
we never hear much about.

and they get drunk sometimes
and live together
date each other
make lunch together
but The Real World
this is not.

so
why
do I waste the space
on my DVR?

it's in Miami,
so
I think
maybe I just miss
Nip/Tuck.