Monday, February 28, 2005

The nursery!! She is finished!! Posted by Hello
I swear, I didn't put him in here... Posted by Hello

Make room for baby.

I finally got word last Friday that my adoption agency got my "Federal Database Release Letter" which basically means that I'll be getting a court date set in Vladivostok very soon. And finally, FINALLY, I'll get to go see my amazing baby again and bring her home. Thank God things are starting to move. In case you couldn't tell (yeah, right), I've been wallowing in major depression for the past month or so. This news has provided me with the first positive news on the adoption front in 10 weeks. What a relief.

This past weekend I spent time (and a LOT of money) getting stuff to finish out the nursery and to really prepare for her arrival...diapers, baby food, formula, cereal, baby wipes, a changing pad, umbrella stroller, etc. It's all finished, and now I just have to build the high chair which is actually going to be quite a chore, it appears. I'm not all that great with assembling stuff that requires more than like three steps--and this thing has like a 20 page assembly instruction book with it--so wish me luck.

This week is going to be crazy at work. We've got the opening of our new big-ass flagship store that's been 2 1/2 years in the making. It's amazing. I've got a lot of work to do before and during the opening itself--before and after hours. And I've got a DATE to the big gala tomorrow night. More on that later...

After I got the crib up in the nursery, Earl wouldn't go near the room. He'd sit out in the hall, a good 8 feet away, staring at the door to the room wide-eyed and freaked out. Of course it didn't phase Ellen one bit. Last night, I was watching The Oscars, and during a commercial break I went looking for him. And yes, he was snoozing in the baby bed. I'd say he's made his peace with this new piece of furniture.

Speaking of The Oscars, I love Chris Rock, but he may have been the worst host the Oscars have ever had. And that's saying something. Obnoxious and crass, his style just didn't mesh with the event. And I still haven't decided who my "best dressed" was...maybe Halle Berry...maybe Virginia Madsen. But NOT Barbra Streisand. If I see one more off the shoulder blousy a-line caftan on that woman, I may scream.

Friday, February 25, 2005

I actually OWN an autographed copy of this album. How scary is that?! Posted by Hello

Hours of laughs.

Jesus Christ. If you haven't already spent a few hours exploring the Bizarre Records site, I highly encourage you to clear your calendar and do so. I think I'm going to go to Hell for just looking at the "Very Special Artists" category.
Yep. That's me after my trip to the dentist this morning. Ugh. Posted by Hello

Post Dental Trauma

Well, it's over. One filling on my upper right. One filling on my lower left. Unfortnately, I didn't get the gas, but they numbed me up pretty good on both sides.
Now I'm at work enduring the slings and arrows of my co-workers who can't resist making fun of my temporary Bell's Palsy. Seriously, not only am I slurring and drooling like a total drunk, the right side of my face is literally paralyzed. When I smilie, nothing happens on that side. It's pretty alarming looking, actually. And after my visit to the dentist, I was struck with an intense headache. So I took some aspirin, which, if anyone would've been videotaping me, would've won me at least $10K on America's Funniest Home Videos. I had water spilling all over me and had no idea if the aspirin had actually gone down my throat or not. And putting on lipstick? Forget it. I can't feel my lips, so what's the point?
I'm worried that when this crap wears off, that I'm in for a world of pain. But at least I'll be able to drink water without having it come out of both sides of my mouth.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

I mean really...does this look like I need 2 fillings? Jeez... Posted by Hello

I'm a total weenie.

So last Friday, I went to the dentist for my bi-annual teeth cleaning and you-should-really-floss scolding session, and discovered--holy crap--that I've got not one, but TWO cavities that need to be filled. And tomorrow's the day I go under the drill. Gulp. You see, I've managed to get to the age of 36 without ever having had a cavity or a filling. The most I've ever had "done" to my teeth is braces, my wisdom teeth out, and two porcelain crowns put on the front two choppers for vanity reasons. But drilling? In to my damn teeth?! Oh my gawd. I'm already freaking out about it. I'm going to be a mess by the time of my appointment in the morning. Luckily, the dentist said that "we caught 'em early" so that they'll be shallow fillings. I think I'm going to take a Xanax before I go, and take my rock-show earplugs to dull the sound of my teeth being drilled in to like a damn coal mine. Wish me luck.

On a totally random note: David Letterman is on the background. He's doing one of those "talk to the audience" skits, and he was just speaking to this semi-hot Norwegian guy named Jonathan. Dave asked, "Do they have fijords in Norway?" Jonathan, of course says, "Yes." And then Dave says, "Do they also have Oldsmobiles?"
Oh Dave. You Midwestern cornball you...

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

The boy and his famous "Treat Spot." Posted by Hello

It started out innocently enough...

I wanted Earl to use his scratching post rather than destroy my furniture. So each time he used the post, he'd get a treat.
Then, when he started to go outside, I'd reward him with a treat each time he'd come back in when I called. He'd saunter in, go sit by the scratching post, and I'd give him his reward.
Later, when he'd come in from outdoors, whether or not I'd called for him, he'd still expect a treat. Always administered by the rarely-used scratching post.
Now, he just wanders over to his "treat spot" when ever he feels like it. And sits there. Patiently. Looking adorable. And invariably, his cuteness and patience wears me down, and he gets the treats he's waiting for.

The trainer has become the trainee, apparently.

Little bastard...

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

When You Get Here

A lot of the clothes I have for you will be too small.
But they’re just clothes.

And it will be your first spring in central Texas,.
Bright and green in March, with wildflowers raging
that those fools in Chicago can still only dream about…

You'll wear the sunglasses I've already bought to shield you from the dazzle.
And next year, it will be spring again.

You’ll begin to understand what it means to be catered to.
Just you.
Like you exist just to be played with, loved, and held.
Gazed at in amazement.
And that devotion will never, ever leave you.

And you’ll hear music. Real music. For the first time.

I’ll start you out slowly…
old Otis Redding, Roy Orbison, The Louvin Brothers…
You will listen to it. Learn about it. Gradually.
I cannot wait to see
what sort of rhythms and melodies
make your bright eyes focus and lighten.

Oh my little girl,
I hope you will someday begin to comprehend how much
and how intensely you were wanted and loved
before you even got here.

And while I waited,
all there really was, was music.

Monday, February 21, 2005

WARNING: Do NOT invite this doll to your party. Posted by Hello

I heart cartoon characters.

Can't help it. I loves me some cartoons. So here are some big ups to those damn line drawings who make me laugh enough to pee my pants. Especially if I'm high:

Ralph Wiggum, "The Simpsons"
I seriously love this kid. Almost every line he's ever uttered on "The Simpsons" has been classic. "Sleep is where I'm a Viking!" "Me fail English? That's unpossible!" Hall-of-Fame-worthy.
Even when other characters just talk about him, it's funny. Case in point: in a recent episode, his dad, Chief Wiggum was trying to convince Bart not to spill the beans about something because he (the Chief) would lose his recent appointment as Police commissioner, and he said, "Imagine what it'll do to Ralphie! He doesn't understand where the world goes when I close the curtains." (I'm paraphrasing, but that's the gist.)

Master Shake from "Aqua Teen Hunger Force"
What an asshole, this guy...cup...alien. The cockier he tries to be, the more of a retarded dick he comes off as. I've actually known human beings like this, but it's much funnier and easier to take when it's a talking milkshake.

The Mayor, from "Tom Goes to the Mayor"
This guy's just psychotic. I love the idea of Jefferton and this guy as its wacked-out mayor. Plus, anything that Mr. Show's Bob Odenkirk is involved is automatically brilliant.

Pepe Le Pew, from "Looney Tunes"
Is there really anything funnier than a smelly, French date-rapist? I think not...

Happy Time Harry from "Aqua Teen Hunger Force"
Voiced by Mr. Show's David Cross, Happy Time Harry is a depressed, chemically-dependent doll complete with a shiv for a hand, a wicked comb-over and "Action Bills." He's so depressing to be around that he convinces another doll, "Jiggle Billy," a moonshine-swilling hillbilly whose catchphrase is, "Commence to Jigglin'!" to blow his own head off with a musket. Fucking brilliant.

Homestar Runner from
Again, another endearingly moronic character with classic lines. But whereas Ralph Wiggum is a bewildered, nose-picking human boy, I'm not quite sure what the hell Homestar is. I just know he's an idiot, and I love him.

Jimmy from "South Park"
I know, I know... there's nothing funny about a physically handicapped cartoon character with a massive stutter. Oh wait, yes there is!!

Sunday, February 20, 2005

All over the map.

Some days are just weirder than others. My Saturdays are usually pretty lame. I do laundry. I run errands. Boring, weekend type stuff. But let me walk you through today, as it was one of my odder Saturdays in memory.

Woke up around 10:20. Had a good night's sleep after crashing at about 11:30pm. (I had just watched Okie Noodling and am really surprised I didn't have nightmares about obscenely-sized catfish.)
Showered. Read the paper.
Went to Lowe's and wandered around cluelessly for about 30 minutes. Bought a pack of wooden shims, a rubber mallet and some batteries.
Went to Ulta. Bought some hair care products and eyeshadow.
Went to Old Navy. Bought some jeans, black pants and some baby sunglasses. They're way cute.
Went to Whole Foods for a few things. It was day-before-Thanksgiving busy for some reason.
Came home.
Got ready and went to pick up Francesca. Went downtown to the Alamo Drafthouse to see a screening of Crispin Glover's self-produced/written/directed film called "What Is It?" preceded by a multi-media presentation/performance by Mr. Glover. THAT part of the evening was enjoyable. But the film was more disjointed and pretentious than any art school film piece you can even conjure up in you mind. I respect Crispin for his utter originality. There is simply no one else in Hollywood remotely like this guy. But it pisses me off when famous people feel like they can make utter crap and expect us to drool over it as "art" simply because they're known for being quirky, creative types. Now the multi-media stuff featuring his artwork/books that he did was pretty phenomenal. But the film was just awful. All of the cast members (except for Crispin) were handicapped. Most of them had Down's syndrome, but there was also a man with severe cerebral palsy, and a person (I was unsure whether it was a man or a woman) who was horribly disfigured AND mentally handicapped. During the film, we were treated to watching a man and woman, both with Down's, having sex; the man with CP being jacked off by a nude woman in a monkey mask while lying in a large clam shell; numerous snails being killed by having salt poured on them and/or by having their shells smashed to bits; a "harem" scene with Crispin and his Down's-afflicted concubines; swastikas; images of Shirley Temple in S&M gear with a riding crop shoved up her cooch; a guy dressed as a minstrel performer, injecting himself with some substance so that he could become an invertebrate; a horribly racist country and western song; and much, much more. There is no identifiable reason for this film's existence. And knowing how creative and interesting Crispin is, it was simply a disappointment. Afterward, Francesca and I stood in line for about an hour so she could get his autograph and have her photo made with him. I hung back and didn't say anything to him, but he introduced himself to me. He seems quite nice and is strangely handsome with all of his angularity and 20s-era fashion sense. I had a nice time, but the hour that the film was shown was pretty uncomfortable. In fact, some of the most entertaining stuff we saw while we were at the Alamo were the midnight movie patrons who were filing past those of us in the autograph line. They were there to see "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"which has apparently got a "Rocky Horror-esque" midnight movie cult thing happening. And judging by the fans who were there tonight, heavy-set, fashion-challenged, glasses-wearing women in their 30s are WAY into it.

After the Alamo, we went to Donn's Depot to hook up with some of Francesca's friends. It was freakin' packed! It's usually crowded on Saturdays, with the over 55 year old set getting gussied up and coming out to cut a rug with one another. But tonight, the rodeo's in town, and there had been some sort of gala, and folks from that were flowing into Donn's. In fact, Donn himself was at the front door, seeing to it that the fire code wasn't broken due to over occupancy. It was nuts. Two out. Two in. We waited in line for about 15 minutes. And then it was utter pandemonium when we got in there. More cowboy hats than I care to mention, and a hefty, old white dude (think Wilford Brimley) singing Tom Jones. There were some FUCKED up folks in that bar. And we got to see some hiLARious moves being performed on the dance floor, in the aisles, in front of the bathroom--pretty much anywhere there were more than 6 square inches of personal space, somebody was dancing. The people watching alone was well worth the $5 cover.
Left there. Drove home. Had to slam on my breaks on my street to avoid squashing the biggest, slowest opossum ever.

So that was Saturday. Now it's 2:00am, and time for bed. I am praying to GOD that none of the disturbing images from "What Is This?" find their way into my dreams tonight. Ewwww...

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

My mom is right on this one... Posted by Hello

Conversations with Cheryl, #6

Mom: Do you know when that Michael Jackson special is coming on?
Me: No. Who cares, anyway?
Mom: It's by that same guy who did that other special, but this time it's about Michaels seeeecret woooooorld.
Me: Again, who cares?
Mom: Man, he's the freakiest freak in all freakdom! You gotta watch!
Me: No way! (I say, while laughing hysterically at her previous comment.) I refuse.
Mom: Well, don't ask me to tell you about it, because I won't.
Me: Don't worry.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Conversations with Cheryl, #5

Me: So what did you end up having for dinner?
Mom: Well, you know how sometimes they forget to put stuff in your bag that you buy at the grocery store...and then it ends up in somebody else's bag? I ended up with somebody's skanky can of spaghettios and meatballs. So that's what I had.
Me: You ate somebody else's spaghettios for dinner?
Mom: Yep.
Me: How were they?
Mom: Shitty.
Howe Gelb. Genius. Sexy motherfucker. Posted by Hello

I'm it.

Apparently, I've been "tagged." Not with spray paint on my substantially sized posterior, mind you, but metaphorically "tagged" in blog-speak. This is a new phenomenon to me. What happens is, someone, somewhere in Blogland thinks up five interesting questions, and then passes them along to (tags, as it were) another blogger with them. So my only blog buddy, the Texpatriate has now tagged me. So here goes:

1. Total amount of music files on your computer?
4864 songs; 12.9 days; 31.1 GB
And this is my work computer. So the fact that I've eaten up 95% of my memory with music is pretty funny. I'm stickin' it to the man!!

2. The last CD you bought was...
I bought three at once, actually: Alpinestars "White Noise," Rufus Wainright, "Want Two," Innocence Mission, "Now the Day is Over"

3. What was the last song you listened to before reading this message?
The Louvin Brothers, "If I Could Only Win Your Love." It was playing on KOOP's Tuesday morning show, "Country Roots." I gotta say, for a small city, Austin has some rather good independent radio. KOOP's morning programming alone is worth a yearly membership to support this station. "The Country Swing and Rockabilly Jamboree?" Awesome. "Soul Sauce?" Kick ass. "The Lounge Show?" Terrific.

4. Write down five songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you.
Man, this is a hard one. Just five? Jeez. If I seek out a particular song to listen to, it's for one of three reasons: a) PERFORMANCE: I wanna sing it at the top of my lungs, b) MOOD ALTERATION/ENHANCEMENT: I'm feeling sad and want to cry my eyes out to a sad/meaningful song OR I'm feeling sad and a want a good song to cheer me up, c) BODY MOVIN', GITCHER BODY MOVIN': I wanna rock out and/or dance my butt off like the uncoordinated goob that I am.
So the following list represents a little bit of all of these reasons.

1- "Cracklin' Water" by Giant Sand.
Howe Gelb is a fucking genius. A fucking SEXY genius. If you listen to this song really loudly with your headphones on, you feel like he's whispering in your ear. I just love this man.
2- "Untitled" off of Green by R.E.M.
"...and keep her strong, while I'm away from here..."--THIS song has become a prayer to me. I listen to it all the time with The Geej in mind.
3- "Alone Again Or" by Calexico
An amazing remake of the song by 70s group "Love." (It was also covered by The Damned at one point.) I dare you to listen to this song and not feel that happy, variety show feeling by the end. 95% of what Calexico does is flawless. This band is one of my favorites.
4-"Every Hour Here" by The Innocence Mission
A song about realizing that God is always with you, even if you don't realize it. Not preachy, just lovely. And Karen Peris's voice is ethereal and dazzling.
5- "Hush" by Tool
It starts out with the singer screaming, "FUUUK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!" at the top of his lungs. The kind of thing that make mothers ship their kids away to military school for listening to. Maynard James Keenan and company at their raw, scary best. Anything off of this album immediately transports me to a time in my life when it was all about sex, drugs and rock-and-roll. In other words, an absurdly irresponsible and fun and dangerous time that seems a gazillion years ago.

5. What 3 people are you going to pass this baton to and why?
Um, I don't have any real "blog friends" other than the person who sent this to me originally. At least I don't think I do... So, I'm going to tag random bloggers who've posted comments on my site: Like this chick, and this guy and this gal in the off chance they check in with the old Pine Curtain Refugee from time to time. TAG, YOU'RE IT!

Random shit. More later.

I saw a barbershop quartet yesterday, paying a parking meter. I mean, all four of them were standing around the parking meter pumping money in. It was weird.

Sunday (2/13) was one of those days that I fully remember why I live in Austin. It was 72 degrees, breezy, sunny. Perfect. I sat out on my deck in a tank top and shorts and rocked out to my iPod while reading. And it's FEBRUARY.

My Valentine's Day date was babysitting a 4 month old boy named Anderson. He spit up on me 3 times and had a crying fit. Typical male...

After my previous post about spilling, I topped myself: Saturday, I was leaving Target, and bought a bottled water at the check out. I didn't realize that it was almost totally frozen, so when I got to my car and opened it, the water that wasn't ice was pressurized, and--SPEW!--I suddenly had it ALL over me: water on my face, hair, shirt, pants. I had a bunch of other errands to run, but I had to go home because I was practically soaking.

I've had an absurdly irrational craving for coconut cream pie for the past few days.

That "All-Star" rendition of the Beatles "Across the Universe" at the Grammys was one of the most random/awful things I've ever seen. Tim McGraw, Billy Jo Armstrong, Bono, Norah Jones, Allison Kraus, Velvet Revolver, Alicia Keys, Stevie Wonder and a very confused looking Brian Wilson. What did they do, pick names out of a hat?

Friday, February 11, 2005

The Geej on December 15, 2004. Nearly 2 months ago... Posted by Hello

Holding it together? Not so much.

It's Friday afternoon. Must be time for my weekly breakdown.

I wish I could aptly explain how helpless I feel about this whole adoption thing. Her room is ready. Her clothes are folded. But she is there, and I am here. It is agonizing. I cannot stop thinking about her. My heart aches in my chest. I'm not sleeping worth a damn. I can't focus at work. I pray so hard and so often it's become a compulsion. I'm a complete mess. And at least once a day, some well-meaning soul asks, "So...when are you going back to Russia?" Jesus. It's like a knife to the gut each time I have to say, "I have no idea."

I cry a little bit every day, but what I really need is a good soul-soaking cry. The kind that doubles you over and gives you a massive headache. The kind of cry that exhausts you and makes your eyes look like you've gone 15 rounds with Tyson. But I can't. Because to do so would be to somehow admit how hopeless I feel. I know there's an end in sight to this emotional torture, but I simply cannot see it from where I sit.

And the worst of it is that I am feeling further and further away from Geej. With each day that passes, it's harder to remember what it felt like to hold her little body while she slept in my arms. And each day, she's growing and changing, and I'm missing it.

I read a story in last weekend's paper about a 6 month old baby girl admitted to Texas Children's Hospital in Houston after her parents--aged 19 and 21--had beaten her nearly to death. Fractured skull. Fractured arms and legs. Internal injuries. Tongue nearly completely severed. Evidence of sexual abuse. Is there a punishment that exists that is harsh enough for these two people? And they have another, older child as well. These two sick fucks have been given the gift of being able to bear children, and this is what they do. Unfathomable. And somehow since I've learned of this poor little girl, it has made me ache even more for the baby girl I cannot hold because she's kept 6,500 miles away because of fucked up bureaucratic bullshit. Man, the world is messed up.

"Stay put. I'm comin' to get you. I've got a job to accomplish. I will float on my raft for you."
--from the song, Float by Matson Belle

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Conversations with Cheryl, #4

(From an AOL instant message she sent me this morning):

Mom: Prince Charles is marrying that old skank he's been seeing forever. YUCK!
Me: I know. I heard it on NPR.
Mom: She looks like a horse.
Me: No more so than he does.
Mom: I bet they'll serve buckets of oats at their reception.

Check out these Star Trek looking flowers blooming on one of my house plants. Freaky, no? Posted by Hello

So cool, it hurts.

Ever since I was a little girl, I've been clumsy. And messy. Not intentionally, mind you. But I'm prone to bumping into stuff, spilling things, breaking things and the like. In fact, I was such a clutz in high school that my mom wanted to have me tested for multiple sclerosis because, according to her, my level of clumsiness "just wasn't normal." There HAD to be something wrong with me that would explain why I was always running into walls and banging my head on stuff.
Now that I'm officially a grown up, I've reached a level of acceptance about this part of myself that is fairly zen-like. It's just a given that I'm always going to have spots of my lunch on me and I'm going to have bruises on my elbows and knees from ramming into things I didn't realize were in my way. I'm not proud of this handicap of mine, but I'm no ballerina, and that's okay.

Well today, I amazed even myself with my messiness. I'd gone to lunch at Pho Fortune 75, a rather sketchy looking Vietnamese joint that serves excellent, cheap-as-hell Pho. I'd ordered the #61 (Tofu with lemon grass and garlic...YUM!), and as always, couldn't finish even half of it. So I got a to-go container. You know: one of those Styrofoam things that has three divided sections. Anyway, I load 'er up and then go get in my car to head back to work. I'm about to back out of my parking spot, and I realize--HOLY CRAP!--I've somehow managed to spill sauce from the container ALL OVER my right leg--I'm talking a football sized spot--as well as on the steering wheel, the gear shift, my left sock, left sleeve and--here's where my mad skills really present themselves--on the BACK of my left leg. What? How the hell did I do this? In a nanosecond, I'd gone from a fairly clean adult to a food-covered toddler. Jesus! So I pull out the "Wet Ones" (yes, I keep a stash in my car for just such occasions), and go to work on my various spill spots. Meanwhile, my passenger is laughing his ass off. He's seen me be messy--including the great "BBQ sauce on the eyelid" incident of 2004--but this was significantly worse than anything he'd seen me do before. I get myself as cleaned up as I can, and come back into the office with wet spots all over my jeans and shirt sleeve. The epitome of cool.
After a few minutes back at my desk, I realize something stinks. It's me, of course. You see, the sauce I spilled was fish sauce. So I now smell like the back room of a whorehouse in August. Not nice at all. Luckily, my next-cube-neighbor had a pair of surgical scrubs that I was able to put on, and my stinky jeans are now secured in a big plastic bag. Man, do I ever look hot. I feel like I'm wearing pajamas at work. But, hey, at least I don't smell like Tara Reid's crotch...

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Forced Creativity/Disclosure

Not feeling all that inspired lately. Is it the foggy, crappy weather? I'm not sure. So I'm basically just going to copy what my blogging cohort the Texpatriate has done. She's my idol, so I don't feel weird copying her. I'm kind of like Jamie Lynn to her Britney. So enjoy. Or not. But here goes:

l. What time did you get up this morning? ALARM went off at 6:51. I didn't get my lazy ass out of bed until 7:40. Damn you snooze button!!
2. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds. But not too many and not too gaudy. Just elegantly presented and flawless.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? "House of Flying Daggers." Breathtaking.
4. What is your favourite TV show? The Daily Show
5. What did you have for breakfast? Can of La Croix sparkling water, lemon
6. What is your middle name? Nunya. As in "Nunya" business...
7. What is your favorite cuisine? Hard to say because there is little I don't like. But if I had to choose, I'd say Tex-Mex.
8. What foods do you dislike? Bleu cheese; kiwi; beets; sweet potatoes; coffee; lima beans; anything that ever had hooves or fur
9. What is your favourite crisp/chip flavour? Salt and vinegar.
10. What is your favourite CD at the moment? Alpinestars, "White Noise."
11. What kind of vehicle do you drive? Volkswagen Jetta wagon. V6. Not your mama's station wagon.
12. Favourite sandwich? Anything made by someone else. Why is it that sandwiches that other people make for you always taste better?
13. What characteristics do you despise? Closed mindedness and comfortable ignorance.
14. Favourite item of clothing? A pair of pajamas I've had since 1988. They've been washed so many times they're as soft as silk.
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Portugal or Greece
16. What colour is your bathroom? 50's Pink and black tile with black walls.
17. What colour pants are you wearing? Gap blue jeans.
18. Where would you retire to? Riverfront property in the Texas Hill Country
19. Favourite time of the day? Early evening.
20. What was your most memorable birthday? Thirty third. Just months after my husband had walked out on me, 3 dear girlfriends joined me in Las Vegas and we had a magnificent meal and went to see Charo's lounge show. It was wonderfully cheesy.
21. Where were you born? Longview, Texas. County seat of Gregg County.
22. What's the last thing you ate? A dark organic chocolate-covered cherry.
23. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Sky blue
24. Favorite flower? Gerbera daisies and gladiolas.
25. What fabric detergent do you use? Whatever's on sale.
26. Coke or Pepsi ? Dr. Pepper
27. Do you wish on stars? Only falling stars. I wish on red cardinals when I see them.
28. What is your shoe size? 7 1/2 or 8, depending on the shoe
29. Do you have any pets? Ellen, 15 1/2 year old cat/professional grump; Earl, 3 1/2 year old cat/plus-sized comedian; Jambone, 9 month old Beta
30. Last person you talked to on the phone? Chaz A.
31. What did you want to be when you were little? Carol Burnet or Gilda Radner
32. What are you meant to be doing now? Writing and appearing on "The Daily Show" and/or singing back-up and playing mandolin in a bluegrass band
33. What do you first notice about someone? Usually their smile/teeth.
34. Siblings? Nope. I'm an "only."
35. What was your favourite toy as a child? My imagination and the "World Book" encyclopedia set my parents got me when I was seven. Yes, I was a dweeby kid.
36. Summer or winter? Summer.
37. Hugs or Kisses? Depends on who's giving 'em...
38. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate
39. Living arrangements? Renting an adorable mid-50s bungalow; huge yard
40. When was the last time you cried? Day before yesterday.
41. What is under your bed? Sweater storing thing; dustbunnies; storage thing with pictures and frames in it
42. How many countries have you visited? Mexico, Canada, England, Scotland, Russia
43. In how many cities have you lived? Longview (not really a "city", is it?), Austin, Birmingham, AL and Chicago. Spent three months in Oxford England in 1990.
44. Favourite movie of all time? "The Color Purple" (drama); "Raising Arizona" (comedy)
45. Mountains or beach? Beach.
46. The current friend you have known the longest? Lisa C. We went to Montessori school together.
47. Full names of your potential kids? The Geej
48. Usual bedtime? Rarely before 11:00pm

Monday, February 07, 2005

Rainy days and mondays always get me down...

I feel like it's been cloudy for...well...weeks. It's very Pacific Northwest here lately, and I'm not loving it. It's adding to my already gloomy state of mind.

I've still heard nothing/zip/zilch out of Russia. I was told that my 2nd trip to go back and get my daughter would take place "between 6 and 8 weeks" after I got back from my first one. Well, it's been 7 weeks, and I know nothing. Meanwhile every day that passes means another day I've missed bonding with her, another day she's not getting a healthy diet, another day that she's not receiving the love and attention she deserves. It absolutely kills me to think about her there without me. I've been putting her room together, and getting ready for her arrival, but really, I've been taking my sweet time because it's going to be so damn hard to look at her nursery without her in it... I had no idea how hard this part of the process was going to be, but I am barely holding it together. I know that when it's all said and done every minute of this waiting bullshit will have been worth it, but right now, it just feels like some weird emotional torture.
Work has been busy and weird. I'm working on a bunch of projects that feel sort of out of control, and I don't like it.

I think Ellen has kitty Parkinson's or something like it. She's shaking a lot and has little tremors. Not seizures, exactly, but almost. It's upsetting.

I feel fatter and older and uglier than I have in years. I just want to hide under a rock.

Other than that, everything's peachy.

Hopefully my next post won't be so dismal...