LACMA, by M

In one of my last posts before my brain is turned completely to vapor, I went to the LA County Museum of Art. LACMA. To the Vanity Fair Exhibit. We did not make it to the new contemporary wing. And I found out that, though I enjoyed looking at the pictures, I pretty much revile the cult of celebrity. So as much as I wanted to see through that to the artistry behind the photograph, I couldn't get past "knowing" who the subject was. But only as one knows Disneyland or Notre Dame. It's not that I really know it but that the visual is ubiquitous? Maybe. And that the photos don't necessarily do anything to subvert what I already "know". Is that important?

And I can't tell what the thrust of the exhibit was but that it needed more behind it. There was a quip about these photographers being the advent of modern portraiture..., but that at least a couple copied the great painterly masters of the past... and that I've already lived with it for so long I have no appreciation for it. A naked lance armstrong I did not blink an eye at as he intently posed on his bike, but I did recall what a fervor demimoore caused bare and pregnant... so clearly something has happened in the last near 20 years... though my fickle mind doesn't want to deduce what that might be. Besides I had the Hearst Collection to view and other places to wander. Next up more on LACMA and the saint of abused women. Something I found infinitely more fascinating. . . here's what I took until my phone battery died.

post-traumatic pollyanna disorder

I realize now what happened after quitting VZW, back in the day. Back when I was prego with K.Lo, throwing up all the time and weeping in corners at the misery of serving the NJ/NY Metro area to *fix* their cell phone issues. It was horrors. I think the day I threw up blood was the day that it no longer mattered I needed this job to pay the mortgage. Dear lord.

Anyway, after I quit about a thousand pounds was lifted off my shoulders and everything was like, peachy-keen. Uber-peachy-keen. For a really long time. A year plus. I mean sure I had my moods, but through the rest of the pregnancy and K.Lo’s first year, I was over the moon. I was all zen. Because I knew how much worse my daily existence could be. I was totally Pollyanna, and I could beat you at the Glad Game any day of the week.

Pollyanna is the Yin to my Inner Snark’s Yang. I embrace them both. For awhile, while suffering Post-Traumatic Pollyanna Disorder (PTPD), I lost sight of my Snark. And then it seemed the Snark returned, and I lost sight of my Pollyanna, a.k.a. Penelozen.

BUT: one can be endlessly grateful toward life’s gifts and remain a bitch. So easy for one to forget! Here’s to reclaiming my PTPD, minus the PT, and this time I promise not to lose the snark.

i’m tired.

*Thanksgiving yesterday was lovely, really. I’m most proud of my job on the turkey, which came out so delish. An oven bag and a cup of apple juice poured over the top of the bird is all you need, my friends. You don’t taste the apple, it just saves you from basting.

*I am most grateful for lots of things.

*Christmas shopping is mostly done. I didn’t do any today (yikes), although I keep going back to the Black Friday deals on Amazon and wondering if there’s something I missed. Can’t find anything, but I like the ability to peruse aimlessly in the comfort of my own home, as opposed to going out and trampling a Wal-Mart worker to death. Ugh. I want to throw up just thinking about that.

*I still have a 4th blog… but I changed the address, and don’t expect me to update it much, if you can find it. I’m telling myself as much as you. I just don’t have the will, the brain power, the whatever-it-takes. Time. Luckily, I doubt anyone much cares.

*Still reading 2 or 3 books and keeping up with all sorts of feeds and other-type articles that I never used to read (the ones I was all trying to share on the 4th blog). My brain is filling up fast. It takes time to mull, but before you can even do so properly, everything changes again. Wonder sometimes if I would have done better in a slower-paced culture and/or century.

*J.Lo is ripping apart our piece-of-crap deck. No bodies discovered yet underneath, but I’ll keep you posted. In the spring, we’ll replace said crap-deck with a lower deck, which should really open up the yard.

*I’ve been feeling sorry for the dogs lately, because they have devolved into food scrounges, and I’m thinking despite their cushy existence, we probably don’t play with them enough anymore. It makes me sad, but it also makes me feel *stretched.* I think about my day and sometimes feel like I’ve got nothing left to fucking give. Poor dogs. We will make the effort, dammit, and hope that the added attention will be the solution to their maddening behavior.

*On tap this weekend: B-day party for 1-yr-old neighbor (extremely cute), Christmas decorating?! maybe next weekend, working some more hours and hoping it’s enough.

Days Til the Great Beyond

With my trip approaching and my blogging at a historical all time low, the only strength I could muster is to tell you what my most illustrious good friend Penelope sent me. And I love her for it- As she wants me to be fully prepared should I become separated from my tour group and lost in the Guatemalan/Honduran/Costa Rican Jungle. I feel fairly safe about Nicaragua, as I won't be near Jungles then. But I can't swear by it.

I can tell you why I consider not blogging, it's because I have things to say but do not want to tell you or have been so consumed over my irritations at french and the hours blown by at work that I cannot make headspace for anything else... but perhaps this is just a phase and I have gotten too good at wasting time. And after all, an online trip journal is something every girl should have.

And I am officially 2 wks away.
Most completely packed except for a black friday camera purchase and perhaps a nail buffer.

four

Yesterday marked four years of marriage for J.Lo and I. Four! The theme of four is flowers and fruit (traditional) or appliances (modern). Both of us went traditional this year, J.Lo bringing home a lovely bouquet of fall flowers and this necklace, which is tiny and dainty and has a little diamond in the middle.

 

 

 

 

Fruit and flowers for a guy proves to be a bit more difficult, so I got all clever and went with this bottle of scotch. If you look closely at the label, it mentions flavor notes that are “fruity and floral.” Score!

pile-ups

*I keep up with the laundry pretty well, despite grave procrastination on the folding and putting-away front. I did laundry over the weekend. But somehow, by Monday, the laundry hamper was two feet taller than normal. Almost as tall as ME. I’ve never seen it get that high. The culprit? Sheets. Apparently I had changed a lot of bed sheets recently. So the lesson here clearly is not to change your sheets, as it leads to inordinate, cruel amounts of laundry.

*Seriously, you should see my DVR. Three episodes of Gossip Girl. And equal number of Privileged. The only two girl-shows I’ve kept up with recently are ANTM and Grey’s Anatomy. And Top Chef, but I’ve only half-watched. All the rest lay there waiting, or else have been cancelled entirely. I blame my blogging problem, and that pesky job. And the children, it’s always their fault.

*Speaking of shows I DO keep up with, how about McKey winning ANTM??? Yeah, I didn’t really dig her, either. Whatever. I like Marjorie and Analeigh. Also, last night’s eps of The Office and Survivor were both brilliant spots of light in the scope of each current season. Discuss with me in the comments, if you watch these shows!

*Mendacious is leaving me in less than 3 weeks. I don’t think I’m really quite prepared, although I suppose between her absence and the repeats starting up, I’ll have time to amend the aforementioned DVR backlog.

*I have to cook Thanksgiving dinner next week. Which is totally great, I love cooking. But so much preparation involved?! The hell. First order of business is to come up with a shopping list, which I haven’t done yet, and then I apparently need to head out and procure said ingredients immediately. The bread for the stuffing needs to be cut up and left out to stale properly by Saturday. Which is TOMORROW. And from there it only gets more complicated, tackling the entire menu I have in mind.

Not that You Care, by M

But, I am almost completely packed. And it is my obsessive need to make lists of which I have mostly spared you lately... and gloriously my pack is really light, especially compared to when I did this in Turkey. I'm getting better! At saying no... though not completely. Let's be honest.

TO BUY
• Extra Memory cards
• Extra Battery
• CAMERA
• Fix Watch
• Burts Bee’s
• Cliff Bars
• Almonds
• Book on tape?

TO PACK
• Vaccination Cert
• Itinerary
• $300 LP+
• Money
• ID,STNT ID, AAA
• MP3 Player
• Journal
• Camera
• Water
• Charger, Memory Cards

• Alarm Clock (1)
• Sunglasses
• Calculator
• Duct Tape
o Nail kit: buff, cut
o Tweezers/Mirror
o ThickEucerin

• Knee braces’
• Ear plugs/hard
• Black travel Pillow
• Door Wedge
• CamelBak (dads)

• Amphibian Walk/Water
• Flipflops
• Bras
• 1 black tanktop


PACKED
Main Pack
• Pancho
• SwissArmyKnife
• Vaccum Bag
• Small Towel/Microfiber
• Jacket (fleece/wind)
----
• Sunflower Seeds
• Jerky
• Gum
• Cliff Bars 12
----
• 7 Underwear
• 3 Undersocks
• 6 Socks
• Mysterious feminine products
-----
• 1 White Skirt
• Red/Red Skirt
• Swimsuit
•
• 1 Red Tanktop
• 5 Tops
(teal/blu/gren/blck/yllw)
• 1 LS-T Shirt O/N
-----
• Sleep Shorts
• Stretch Shorts
• Water Shorts
• 1 Stretch Pants
• 2 Cargo Pants
• 1 Stretch Capri
-----
• Travel Connect 4
• Cards
• Insect Repellent
• SPF 15 max

Emergency Kit
• Potable Aqua
• Emg Blanket
• Malariapills
• Leviquin 4 TD
• Ice packs
• Thermometers
• Dramamine
• Bandaids
• Anti-Inflammation patches
• Other…


Toilettries
• Deodorant
• Detergent
• Tissues
• Shaving Gel
• Face/Body Wipes
• 4 disposable razors
• Liquid Soap/scrub
• Floss
• Paste
• Toothbrush
• Shampoo/Conditioner
• Brush
• Sewing Kit/Safety Pins
• Eucerin


PACKED DAY BAG
o Blister kit (check it)
o Advil
o Hand Sanitizer
o Sun hat
o Ginger pills
o Flashlight
o Zip-tie Locks
o 1 Underwear
o 1 pair socks
o 1 longsleeve top
o Gum
o Pens
o Mirror PlaneTix
o Passport
o Insurance proof
o Bandana
o Business cards
o Toilet Paper
o Compressed Water Spray
o 4 TourGuide Docs
o Gloss
o Soft EarPlugs
o Money Belt

Definitely Not Ok, by M

So I've decided it's not ok. I called the house this AM again, to see if my friends life had or hadn't changed irrevocably. And her mom answered the phone and immediately knew it was me, and she makes some really not very concerned fumbling excuse about why she didn't call me back, and explained my number just came up but not my name so she didn't know... which means she deleted my # from her cell phone and yet uh, either her house has caller id or she knows my fucking number people! what is going ON! I got deleted, not called back, generally stepped on for my concern, and then she told me that they weren't staying at the shop which is quite different than being evicted... and whatever so then she explains to me how there was a 30ft wall of flames coming down and surrounding the house but that a gust of wind came and pushed the wall fire down the hill. And that her son found a way back up the hill and spent the night putting out ember fires at various houses on his street.... and she's like, so yah thanks so much for calling, the inspector is here i have to go, and i was like so i guess I'll catch up with ivy later? And uh? Ok bye! Thanks for calling! CLICK.

WHAT!?
WTF!? is going ON!

How is This Ok? by M

So the neighbors are having another one of their fucking parties. It's not ok that the volume level of the speakers causes my windows to rattle or my doors to reverberate. It's not. It's really fucking rude. And I fucking hate them. Or rather anything I might do to them by my own hand outside of some miraculous occurance would be justifiable but not exactly right. This makes me sad. And God and I are talking this out.

But clearly complaining about my neighbors isn't anything new. What I'm really here to complain about is my friend who has the drug problem, dropped rehab, hopefully, mostly clean? I don't know. I haven't seen her since. But she called me the other night, hadn't gotten around to calling her back. And then around 11:20pm last night I get a call from her on the house phone, and all I hear as I hit the play back button is "This is a dire emergency." And then my cellphone is ringing.

She says, "The fire jumped I think. It's close. We don't have anywhere to go. My mom got evicted from her studio (news to me, and this means absolutely no income and nowhere to work, is what that means). We think we might sleep in the parking lot of the studio, but maybe we can come over to use the restroom or something? There's no room is there? There's 4 of us." No I say, but... Come over? When are you coming, over? Of course I say. You can go to an evacuation center? What are you going to do." "I don't know, I don't know." "Just call me," I say, "Let me know." "I have to go, I see an ember, I think our house is on fire. There's a policeman at the door. I have to go." CLICK.

So I turn on the news and sure enough I'm looking at a fire blazing and I think that DOES look like her house, her actual house on fire. I hope its not her house. It really looks like her house. And Chuck from channel 4 is giving approximate locations of houses lighting up and blazing, and i think, that's her street. I'm pretty sure he just said her street.

I text her 20minutes later: Are you ok? Is your house? Where are you? NO ANSWER.
I wait up till 130AM waiting, watching the news, and generally pretty concerned.

I wake up at 730AM. I tell my mom, I think her house burned down. They said they might come by. I haven't heard from them...I go back to bed and lay there pointlessly for another hour.

I call her again at 11AM. No answer. "HI, I'm concerned about you guys. Where are you? Are you Ok? Let me know what I can do to help? Call me."

I mean hello, I know I'm a narcissist but how is it ok that I haven't heard from her since her 2nd frantic call. Her phone might be dead, her mom might not have even told her I called. But she knows both my numbers by heart. Their studio/work place where they were going to sleep is 2 miles from my house. And I'm completely pissed off that I haven't heard one-single-word.

It's possibly the voyuer in me. Maybe.
its possibly the storyteller in me. But mostly, it's genuine concern, I think, for a human being I actually know, whose house may or maynot no longer exist. Sure I thought the house was a den of toxic awful energy, and would it surprise me, given that the entire backyard was filled with dead literally drybrown things, that would make it easier for a fire to start and rapidly disintigrate the house- no. But even in this she should've called right? Like maybe let me know if she needs the microwave I have stashed in the crawlspace, or the Tv sitting in a box that's too big for my room right now... or clothes or food or something. Maybe let me know if she's homeless, or alive or crying or hurt, or safe or warm or fed... But maybe it's just me.

That explains the cupcake I had after dinner, and maybe those 3 slices of pepperoni pizza. I'm totally going to bed now, the fucking polka music is at a murmor. How considerate really, turning it down around 1am in the fucking morning!

someday

I was out shopping today and found a bucket of sticks on clearance for $7.50. I think it was 75% off. A damn good price for a bucket of sticks. I have always wanted one, I couldn’t tell you why. I can see it by a door, or in a corner somewhere, especially during the fall or winter months. The pot was an orangey red color, the sticks maybe between 2 and 3 feet tall. It was sort of perfect all around.

I put it in the cart and took it on a tour of the store, on the fence the whole time about the *need* for a bucket of sticks. Justifiable? After a several-year back-burner quest? Why not.

Then I remembered that N.Lo is 1, and on the verge of walking, and that there couldn’t possibly be a worse time to buy the bucket of sticks. Sure, he’d learn quick enough not to go near the thing. But would that be before after the sticks skewered his little eyeballs. It would be a disaster waiting to happen, I had to admit.

Someday I will own the bucket of sticks. Someday the planets will align on this matter. Just not, sadly, today.