Wednesday, December 27, 2006


To paraphrase Heather B. Armstrong, I’m "Lana Wood" and this is MY blog. I write what I want, when I want, how I want. I do not write to please, entice, or impress anyone. I write what is on my mind at any given time.

I had a few reasons why I started keeping this blog. And after I realized people are reading it, I thought about how I felt about sharing my inner monologue.

When I set up the blog I sought advice from other bloggers about comments, intellectual property rights, and the vagaries of online writing. After gathering information, I decided to enable comments in the hope people would offer constructive criticism. I chose to have moderated comments with the reasoning that nasty people with snippy unconstructive criticism and too much time on their hands would not take the trouble to complete the steps to post a comment. I also felt that in the event someone posted something I found utterly reprehensible, I could choose not to post his or her comment.

I have learned how to check the "stats" for my site, and I know the most of the people who read my blog do not comment. Some do, and I am happy for their interest and the time they take to send me comments. So far I have had a couple comments that I was not quite sure where they are coming from but nothing I have found threatening or offensive. The comments section of a blog in an imperfect medium, and it is difficult to infer the intentions of others written reactions to my prose sometimes. To date I have posted all the comments I have received.

If you send me a comment and want me to respond let me know. I just figured out how to respond to comments on my own blog, but am not eager to have a back and forth in my comment section. You can send me an e-mail. I do write back, but I do not check e-mail frequently. I am pleasantly surprised people are reading and enjoying, or at least thinking about, topics I write about. I hope you will continue to visit me in cyber space.

That Wasn't So Bad

Christmas went much better than I expected. Even though I have endeavored to change things in my life, the old anxieties creep in.

When it comes to the holidays I have learned a few things. The people I love know I love them. I do not have to see them on actual Christmas day, buy them gifts they do not want with money I do not have, ply them with calories and food they do not need, or send them a generic card I have only had the time to sign without even dashing off a personalized sentence or two. And, vice versa. This takes the vast majority of the stress of EVERY holiday down to a very manageable level. I also use some very good advice a friend of mine gave me shortly after my parents died and things became insane with my siblings. "If it doesn’t matter, let them have it." This works very well for me both literally and philosophically.

It is important to me that I give some of my parents’ things to each of my sisters, and each of my nieces and nephews. My parents specifically stipulated in their will that they wanted to leave everything to my younger sister and me. They also stipulated that with the exception of the house, there is a separate section in wills for real property and the laws governing it are different than all other assets, that the disposition of everything is at my discretion. My Mom and Dad were adamant about their decision, but in my heart of hearts I do not believe they intended for me not to share. I think they meant for me and/or my younger sister to get the house and/or the proceeds from the house. Anyway, it does not really matter what they wanted me to do with their stuff, they gave it to me, and I can do whatever I want with it. I cannot keep everything. There are many things I had to discard for various reasons. I am planning a huge tag sale in the spring, and I am trying to share amongst my family those things that have meaning to us all. Things that carry good and comforting memories. Things that have meaning to those to whom I am giving them.

This is kind of tough since my sisters seemingly cannot even discuss this. I have to guess. It is all too difficult. And we are not getting along, so every conversation is like pulling teeth. My younger sister wants to keep everything, not because she wants or needs it, but because she cannot bear the idea of something being throw away. Then there is my oldestsister who wants everything because she feels she is entitled. No matter what my parents said, she just wants everything all the time. Her sense of entitlement on every level fascinates me. Her children because of the hardships of their childhood are heartbreakingly unsentimental, but are beginning to trust that they can have "things" and do need possessions that remind them of Gramma and Poppy. I do not know my next to oldest sister’s children well, and have no idea what might have meaning to them. They did not really know our Mom and Dad. Then there is my brother’s daughter. She is a really neat young woman and it's easy to think of things she would like. She is so gracious, and so eager to be sure everyone has something they will like. I give her all the things I find about her Dad, my brother, so she can learn whatever ever she needs to about him. Her Mom was great about her Dad. When she was a child, we all carefully and kindly discussed my brother, but now that she is grown up, we tell her what we know when she asks. I feel sorry for my brother that he missed out on the amazing person who is his daughter.

A few years before my Mom and Dad died, I went on strike. I am pretty sure I wrote about that somewhere in this blog. Basically I got sick of hosting all the holidays without any help, and much hindrance. Once everyone realized I was serious we explored alternative ways to celebrate. I laughed to myself just this Christmas day when it occurred to me what a dork I am. I felt bad about no longer trying to be the Hostess With the Mostess. This Christmas it occurred to me, nobody else got their ass in gear to do anything, and what kind of a dipshit am I to think it was my responsibility? I cannot express what a freeing and satisfying thing it is to stop feeling so freaking responsible. What we began to do was to scale back for things like birthdays. We stopped having all out shindigs. For Thanksgiving we went to a really nice restaurant, or happily accepted invitations of family friends. For Christmas we went to the movies and to get Chinese food. Once we got over the whole what we were supposed to be doing, the whole Norman Rockwell bullshit, we had a freaking good time. While a lot of people were seethingly enduring the company of loved, yet grating, relatives we were in a movie theater, literally laughing so hard we were sore, and afterwards eating delicious, hot cheap food, with tablecloths and real silverware, and no clean up.

This year most of my family lives over a thousand miles away. I saw most of my friends the week preceding Christmas. I spent Christmas day with my youngest sister. I like to go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve. For some reason my church no longer has midnight mass. They have 10 PM mass. My sister did not want to go to that mass, since she felt it would not be Christmasy enough. On the "if it doesn’t matter, let them have it principle," I agreed to go to 8:30 AM mass Christmas day. Then we went to the movies. We saw Night at the Museum, which was cute. Then we went to the nice Chinese restaurant. I really like this one because the food is good, the place is clean, they have real tablecloths, and most importantly, the people who work there are absolutely lovely. After that we went to my house to exchange presents. I always have a tough time thinking up what to get for my sister. We are very different people, and often what I’d most like to give her is a swift kick in the ass. I picked out some things I thought she would like to help her with her grief. She is very bummed out at holidays, our parents’ birthdays etcetera. It was kind of a "death isn’t sucky" gift bonanza. She has always done pretty well getting me stuff I like. Very seldom does she ever get me anything that makes me think; "what was she thinking?" This year she totally hit the mark. She bought me something I did not even knew existed, that I would not have bought myself if I did, and that I really like. It is all the episodes of one of my favorite shows on DVD. Holy crap! I was so excited like a total loser. And I said "oh man this is way cooler than what I got you, I wish I could think of better stuff for you." She said "nope, I like this stuff you got for me, it is good stuff for me, I need this stuff." See, in real life she is actually pretty cool, she just plays my annoying pain in the ass little sister on TV.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Hard Work

If you have read anything I have written you know a little bit about how I feel or felt about some really crappy stuff in my life. You also know that is not all there is to it. I have some very good memories of my family as well. As with most families similarly afflicted as mine, many of the good and bad memories are inexorably linked. Christmas when I was a child was nice in a lot of ways. We had a large family, and lots of company. That was fun to me. I liked, and still like, being around a lot of people. For me that is still the best and most important part of the holidays. I am not big on the whole compulsory consumerism component of Christmas. I feel like that about Valentine’s Day too. If you need freaking Hallmark to remind you to value your relationship, you might as well pack you bags and leave. My parents had a lot of kids, and hardly any money, hence we did not get everything we wanted for Christmas. We got stuff my parents thought we would like, and stuff we needed. And not a lot of stuff. I am appalled by the sheer volume of stuff people buy their kids. I cannot imagine why any child needs all the crap. When I was a kid, we did funky shit like go outside and play with other kids, or go to the library and read a book. Or do chores around the house, not for allowance, but because we lived there.

When I was little we made birthday cake for Jesus on Christmas Eve day. He liked chocolate with chocolate frosting, just like me. I also made stuff for my Mom and Dad, and grandparents, and older siblings. All of whom ooohed and aaahed over it like it was priceless art. Infinitely cool to me was the holy lean-to. This is what I call the little barn thingy for the crèche figures. I have not been able to unwrap it since my parents died. I get exhausted thinking about it. It has very old ornate figures. They belonged to my grandparents. One of the angels returned to heaven to help God, and one of the wise men is now a double amputee, but other than that, the figures have fared well. My Mom of course kept Jesus tucked away until his birthday, duh. So, when we woke up and found presents from Santa, we also found Jesus had been born. Speaking of which, I obviously still remember the good old days of being the baby of the family, until my younger sister came along and ruined it all for me. Hello, did these people not get the memo about me being the center of the universe? How dare my parents have sex, AND make another baby. Yuck!

It used to drive me nuts when my parents gave me the same stuff as my little sister. I wanted to be different. It just fried my ass that we both got the exact same gift, hence the gift had inherent little sister cooties. Also, my mother was a sicko. That demented woman lied to me when I was a very little girl, before I even started school. Back in the cave man days we did not go to school until we were at least five. I got these ugly ass puffy white boots I very ungraciously and vocally detested for Christmas one year. My mother, the woman who gave me life, the woman who I looked to for comfort in the chaos of the world, lied to me and told me the boots were cool because they were just like the astronauts wore.

Over the summer I asked my younger sister to help me go through my parents Christmas stuff so we could separate it out, and I could send some to my other two sisters, and she and I could take some things as well. My sister kept saying she would help me, but kept putting it off. She has really not done much to help at all. Basically when she helps me it consists of her showing up late, picking a fight, which I infuriatingly have learned not to give her in the past year, then she has a shit fit and goes home, and I do whatever it is alone. With all the things that had to get done in the wake of our parents’ deaths, I have not really had all that much help from any of my sisters. That sucks, but that is how it is, and the reasons are innumerable. I give everybody stuff as I come across it. But I get mad sometimes since I am doing a lot of this alone. My friends would help me, but it is a private thing to me. I want to be miserable alone, and share what I want to share of my feelings and discoveries. Finally right before Thanksgiving my younger sister and I started to go through the Christmas stuff. My sister crapped out after about 20 minutes. I did some alone. My nephew helped me with some, and my sister FINALLY helped me finish last week.

I had really wanted to get some stuff to my older sisters well before the holidays, and I am mad at myself for allowing my younger sister to guilt and stonewall me into subverting my own goal in that regard. Often, in an effort to be cognizant of the fact that others, including others who share my DNA, do not grieve at the same pace or in the same way as me, I am too patient with inconsiderate behavior. It was really hard for me to go through my parents Christmas stuff, and being pissed about doing it months later than I had wanted to, and largely alone did not help. I fondly remembered some stuff we have had since before I was born, and wondered what the hell my parents were thinking about some stuff they brought after I had moved out on my own. These animatronic fiberoptic thingamajigs give me the unholy creeps. I also was sad to discover many things no longer seemed to be here. I know my parents told me more than once that my oldest sister and her kids would come over and shop. This was my parents' cutesy little way of saying they stole stuff when they came to visit. This is also why when she came to visit my Mom would pretend to be asleep and my Dad would keep her entertained outdoors as much as possible. I also know that things were not well taken care of after I moved away. I used to feel guilty for leaving. Not anymore. My Mom and Dad were grown ups, and the choices they made about how to live and care for their home were theirs to make, and the consequences were theirs to live with. I know this because they told me so. It was the greatest gift they ever gave me.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Temper Tantrum

When my parents died they had two dogs. Both dogs were acquired from dire circumstances, both are female, both came with a name that is a people name, you know like Pauline, as opposed to Patches, and both have names that start with the same letter. Pretty freaky, huh? One is a Bichon Frise, the other, a mixed breed, has a lab looking kind of head, and a Corgi looking kind of body. The mutt dog has this really rambunctious personality. My parents had her less than a year before they died. We got the mutt from my oldest sister, who got it from the family of a neighbor lady my Nephew had made friends with. The neighbor lady had gotten too ill to live alone anymore, and her son came and got her to come live with him. Well, the Mom and the wife clashed, so my sister offered to care for the Mom, and along came the dog too. My sister did not like the dog, so when the little old lady went to the quilting bee in the sky, my sister pawned it off on my Dad. My Mom was technically the third little old lady who kicked off on this dog since the little old lady neighbor had gotten it when her little old lady friend had died. This dog knew my parents, particularly my Dad, were ill. She would sit by my Dad day and night. It gave my Dad the creeps, but she was constantly watching over him, and would become distressed when he had episodes of doing more poorly than usual. She also was aware of how fragile my Mom was and did not jump on her or jostle her.

Bichon Frise, for those of you who do not know, is French for either "never shuts the fuck up" or "constantly barks and whines" depending on the dialect. I have, since I met it, referred to this dog as the White Witch. My Mom loved this fucking dog; that right there should have been a clue to the fact my Mom was losing her marbles. My parents acquired the White Witch when an aunt of a coworker of my Mom’s died and the aunt’s son, who ended up with the aunt’s dog, wanted to have it euthanized because he did not like it. My Mom thought this was horrendous, and immediately went and got the dog. My Mom loved dogs, in particular fuzzy lovey ones that looked like stuffed animals, reference the story about the sheepdog as another example. My parents had the Bichon more than a year, less than two, I think, before they died. I personally am not fond or anyone or anything that whines, particularly in annoying little dog form. So, I was never too fond of the White Witch. This dog was a great comfort to my Mom. My Mom liked to hug her, and have her sleep with her. The dog did absolute wonders for my Mom’s psychological well being as she was dying, and nothing I could have talked Medicare into paying for would have been better for her in the twilight of her life. Consequently, the White Witch became a beloved pet in spite of her myriad of infuriating tendencies.

After my parents died, because my sister had been living with my parents, and would continue to live in the house temporarily until she found an apartment, the dogs became her pets technically. After my Dad died, and we had him taken to the funeral home, and went to the nursing home to tell our Mom, I took my sister and the dogs to my apartment. After about two weeks, the day after I buried my Mom, my landlord, who knew both my parents had just croaked, in writing informed me that while he sympathized with my loss, I needed to remove the dogs or he would have to take further action. Even though he knew they were not staying, and that they were family pets, and that I knew it was total fucking bullshit that his insurance had gone up because of my dogs, he pulled this stunt. The real problem was my sister was not picking up their shit, and was tossing cigarette butts all over the place to boot. She swore to me it was not her, but come on people, she appears and the poop and cigarette butts appear; I pry her off my couch, the poop and cigarette butts cease. So now my sister is responsible, and I use the term loosely, for the two geriatric chicky momma dogs.

So, anyway...

My youngest sister flew with my nephew to bring him to his new home with his Mom, my oldest sister. And I got to dog sit, which actually sucked much less than I anticipated. The dogs had a good time with the kitties, and vice versa. They seemed to recognize the house. They had fun being with someone who took them out every couple of hours, and they liked having lots of stuff to eat and drink, and almost immediately found the cabinet where I stashed the biscuits I had bought for them. However, the White Witch annoyed me to the edge of sanity. She barked all the time, and she has really stinky breath. So, I suffered not only the noise but also the stench. Yuck! She would never stop. She is pretty old for a doggy, and appears to me to be in pain. It seems to me like she really has a hard time getting around. The vet and I have been gently suggesting to my sister that the time is coming to euthanize her. I have never been able to figure out why she constantly barks. It is a trait of the breed to be seriously fucking annoying, but no matter what you do; the dog is constantly generating unnecessary noise pollution. Regardless of what I tried, she barked and/or whined. I carried her. I put her down. I held her. I talked to her. I took her out. I brought her in. I sang to her. I told her stories. I watched TV with her. I asked Jesus to please help the little doggy shut the fuck up. I gave her treats. I fed her people food. I gave her nice stuff to lay on. I called my sister and asked her how to make her stop. I considered having her put to sleep. I considered hopping on a plane with her and bringing her to my sister. I considered putting her in a kennel until my sister came home. I could not take it anymore. So I picked up the stinky noisy little dog, and put her out in the hallway, and slammed my office door in her infuriating little furry face. She sensed the door might drown out her barking, so she barked louder. Miraculously, when I returned to working on my computer, I blocked out the din.

Eventually, it occurred to me that I was thirsty. That’s when I remembered the latch on my office door is broken, and I have been on an intermittent quest to replace several broken latches on the interior doors of my house. I tried shaking the door, banging the door, pushing the little thingy that sucks in when you turn the knob in with a pair of scissors, no luck. Then I took off the hinge pins, but could not pry the rusted painted lower hinge apart. Now I had to pee, and the little doggy was barking even more feverishly. I tried many things to get the door open somehow. I could not get out the windows either. The wieghts and mullions are shot, and they would not stay up, I simply do not have enough limbs to keep from slamming myself in the window, and get out it at the same time. In sheer frustration, I acknowledged I hated the door anyway. Its damage reminded me of the incident when the policeman had to break it down, and I was planning to systematically replace it and many other doors in the house. So, I smashed the damaged top panel of that fucker to smithereens, all the while terrified the barking whining demon dog would be hurt by flying debris. I still could not get the fucking door open, and I could not get it off the hinges, and even that livid, I did not have the strength to bash in the undamaged lower panel. So, I reached into the hallway with a broomstick, and dragged over some cans of paint. Then I pulled one inside, stood on it, and climbed over through the broken panel. Then I went and got a hammer and knocked that motherfucker off the hinges. Miraculously the little doggy was unharmed, and had not peed anywhere while she was banished. I got a drink, peed, and took the dogs outside for a nice walk. Then I came back, put the door in the car trunk, and brought it to the dump. All of twenty minutes later I came home to find the little dog had peed and pooped in the house. Luckily, I love that freaking little White Witch for whom I will NEVER dog sit again.

It's Official, I'm Bored

A to Z Survey
A - AvailableYes
B - Best FriendYes, a Few
C - CrushNope, I Prefer Total Annihilation
D - Dad's NameThat's Classified
E - Easiest Person To Talk ToMyself
F - Favorite BandRubber, Followed Closely by Abba
G - Gummy Bears Or WormsBears, of Course
H - HometownI Could Tell You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You
I - InstrumentFlute, Piccolo, Drums
J - JobOk, but I like the Beatitudes best
K - KidsNope, not having any, scrambled eggs
L - Longest Car RideCan't tell ya where from or to, but it was 1,300 miles too many with my psycho sister
M - Milk FlavorGuida's chocolate milk/skim
N - Number Of SiblingsFour
O - One WishFuck world peace, I want firm thighs
P - PhobiasGetting germs from fucking slobs who do not wash their hands after using the bathroom
Q - Favorite Quote"Sometimes you gotta say; "What the Fuck."
R - Reason To SmileBarely dressed men with heaven sent body composition, I feel faint...
S - Song You Last HeardSleigh Ride
T - Time You Woke Up4:57 AM
U - Unknown Fact About MeI do not think I want to live here
V - VegetableNo, I have possession of all my faculties.
W - Worst HabitsBiting my nails, putting up with borish behavior, not cleaning the litter box enough
X - X-Rays You've HadEverything, really. Too many car accidents and bad family medical history.
Y - Your Favorite Foodice cream
Z - Zodiac SignVirgo
Take This Survey at

Monday, December 18, 2006

New Kitten

Here is a picture I took Saturday of Mon Petit Amour, on the left, and his new little sister, Girly Kitty.

She is five months old now, and settling in very well. I have had her almost three weeks, and I am so happy to have her. As with all the pets I have gotten since I became an adult, I adopted her from the animal shelter. I have wanted to find a companion for Mon Petit Amour for quite some time. After the debacle with the
Dominatrix kitty, the vet advised me to get either a dog or a kitten to keep Mon Petit Amour company next time I try adding a new pet to the family. There have of course been some territorial disputes. They scared the crap out of me this morning when they both decided to hang on the shower curtain and pulled the whole kit and kaboodle down. Man, I was wide awake then! Both kitties are having a wonderful time running all over the house. It is so nice to see Mon Petit Amour with someone to play with. I think he is enjoying being a big brother, and even when he is annoyed with her he is gentle in his admonishments.

If you decide to add a pet to your family this holiday season, please consider rescuing a pet from your local animal shelter.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Recent Conversations

At a Cookie Swap:

  • Fellow Cookie Swap Attendee #1: "I wanted to be a writer, so I could tell everybody what I think."
  • Fellow Cookie Swap Attendee #2: "I love animals, I wanted to be a vet, and be like Dr. Doolittle." "Lana, what did you want to be?"
  • Me: "I wanted to be a corporate attorney so I could make lots of money and buy shoes." "I have priorities."
  • Fellow Cookie Swap Attendee #2: "Oh yeah, you should be a lawyer, you love to argue."
  • Me: "No I don’t!"
  • (Group giggle over me arguing I do not like to argue.)
  • Fellow Cookie Swap Attendee #2: "You don’t like confrontation, you are great at arguing. You should be a lawyer so you can help people."
  • Me: "I get to help people being {profession deleted) and what is really great is they pay me and thank me for telling them how fucking stupid they are, I’m in the right career."

I love Cookie Swap Attendee #2, she is a really neat lady, and very shrewd.

Conversations with mooching nephew who stayed with me for a few weeks, he is 22, but is mildly retarded and schizophrenic, don’t drink when you are pregnant kids!

I Raking leaves on the front lawn:

  • Nephew: "Why do we have to rake the leaves? Who cares?"
  • Me: "I care, I want the yard to look nice. Don’t you like to help your poor decrepit old auntie?"
  • Nephew: "If you were not such an old hag, you would have a husband here to help you."
  • Me: "Your mother owes me big time."

II: After shopping for crap ungrateful moocher wanted at K-mart:

  • Me: "Where the hell is my car? I can never find my car since some loser stole my alien antenna thingy."
  • Nephew: "Here it is. Ooops, nope, not your car, too nice."
  • Me; "Hey Punky Brewster it is a long walk to {new house 1,000 miles away} don’t push your luck.

III In my living room after nephew was here a couple weeks, and his sister, with whom he mixes like oil and water, was also staying with me after flying back here to visit her boyfriend at his request. But she did not spend any time with him, and with no place to stay asked my nephew to ask me if she could stay with me after wearing out her welcome with her grandparents and best friend. I said sure, thinking it would be a few hours until she flew home, and this was going into her third day with me. I love these damn kids. Making long distance calls, eating me out of house and home, waking me up at all hours of the day and night. Laying on my couch in their underwear and/or grubby shoes when they take time to break away from annoying the shit out of me, literally, while I am in the bathroom. The upstairs of my house is not heated, so I had the kids sleeping in the living room on mattresses:

  • Nephew: "I pushed the couch up against the door so Mon Petit Amour and The Girly Kitty cannot get on my stuff. I am going to cut through your bedroom to get in the living room."
  • Me: "Oh no you are not. You may not go in my bedroom unless I invite you."
  • Nephew: "Fuck you, you have too many fucking rules! I am leaving and going someplace else where I can watch what I want on a TV that is just for me, and lay on the couch, and not have to have pants on, and I do not have your fucking rules. Fuck you with no phone calls before 8 o’clock in the morning, and no phone calls after 8 o’clock at night, and telling me to stop yelling at people when I am talking on the phone. You have too many fucking rules. How come I can’t come in the bathroom and take a shit when you are in the shower? Why the fuck am I supposed to wait until you rinse the soap out of your hair? When the hell are you going to finish fixing the house so you have more bathrooms? I am not coming here anymore, you have too many rules. Telling me I cannot have any more ice cream, and telling me I have to watch your stupid fucking show, or go in your office if I want to watch something else. How come I have to stop lying on the couch so you can sit on it and watch your stupid fucking shows? That Matthew Perry guy is a loser. Why do you like him? And I am not here to baby-sit your fucking cats. How come you do not punish them for walking on my stuff? They walk all over my clothes. And they mess up my blanket. How come they do not have any of your stupid rules? I am leaving and going some place where I can do whatever I want. Fuck your rules."
  • Me: "I promised your Mommy I would take care of you and keep you safe until we are able to fly out with you to bring you to her at your new house. So, make sure you tell me where you are going so I can let her know you are safe. Want me to help you pack?"

It is not fun to fuck with me and my rules ladies and gentlemen.

Conversation with next door neighbor about the house across the street that just was sold.

  • Me: "I didn’t want to be nosy, since I know how it felt to have the whole neighborhood minding my business when the shit hit the fan in my life, but I keep thinking something terrible happened. Do you know what happened to Mrs. Nice Little Old Lady Who Has Lived There Since I Can Remember? The For Sale sign just appeared one day out of the blue.
  • Neighbor: "Yes, Nice Neighbor Who Helps Everybody With All kinds of Crap told me she got very sick, and her daughter had to put her in and assisted living facility. They needed to sell the house."
  • Me: "Jesus that is awful. She was always so sweet and kind. I hope she will be ok. I know how hard this must be for her family."
  • Neighbor: "Well, you know it is more likely something like this will happen to all of us than not. It is just how things work out."
  • Me: "Do you know anything about the new people who bought the house?"
  • Neighbor: "Yup!" (wicked smirk)
  • Me: "What?!"
  • Neighbor: "It is a young single guy."
  • Me: "I wonder if he has a ladder I can borrow, I need to caulk my windows and clean my gutters."
  • Neighbor: "Lana, you have to check him out when he gets here. See if he is cute, and stuff."
  • Me: "Hi, my name is Lana, I am the advance team on Hottie Reconnaissance. Are you straight? How do you feel about yard work? Do you accept payment in beer and pizza? Yeah, I don’t care if he is hot, or straight, I just wanna borrow his power tools. All single guys have power tools, and great stereos."
  • Neighbor: "Good, then if he is a hottie, I will seduce him, and you can have his other tools. (Wicked peals of laughter.)

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Stay Tuned

Wow, I have had an exhausting past several weeks. Lots of family stuff going on. I had unplanned house guests for an extended period of time. I also was dog sitting for a few days. Neither the house guests or the dogs were house broken, so, being the proud owner of my family's recessive neat freak gene, my nerves are quite frayed.

I just sent the dogs home a few minutes ago. I threw all the dirty clothes and linens into the basement for washing. Mopped the doggie presents off the floor, and Febreezed all the upholstery. I'll do the laundry and load the dish washer tomorrow morning, right after I buy a No Vacancy sign to put up in front of my house, and think of what to put in the extra bedroom so no one can sleep there. I think I will also get rid of my couch and get some really uncomfortable chairs instead.

I also have a new kitten I adopted a couple weeks ago to keep Mon Petit Amour company. I will get back to writing some stories, maybe some about what has been going on, tomorrow. Right now, I am going to have some ice cream and sit on MY couch, and watch MY television.

Friday, December 8, 2006

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I am a

What Flower
Are You?

You Are a Sunflower

"When your friends think smile, they think of you. There is not a day that goes by that you can't find something good about the world and your fellow human."

I took a personality test too, turns out I have one.

My Personality
Openness To Experience
Test Yourself Compare Yourself View Full Report
Find your soulmate / pysch twin

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I like Purple. I will be able to write more next week, still overrun with relatives. If one more person walks in the bathroom while I am in there, I will be finding out if they have internet access in prison. Seriously, these people have been my family my whole life, they KNOW I hate people talking to me while I pretend to have bodily functions so mere mortals are not intimidated by my perfection. What the fuck is it with the not even bothering to knock on a closed door?

Tuesday, December 5, 2006


My friend Sharky is like a sister to me. Like a sister is supposed to be, like on TV, and in movies. Not like my real sisters with whom I have very painful relationships. Sharky and I have been friends, our parents and older siblings claim, since we were fetuses. Sharky's been married to another one of my good friends, Sensei, for, lemme do the math, sixteen years. I met him a long time ago when he and Sharky were dating. He was a nice man, still is, and a really good Dad, and husband, and friend. Sharky's really cool, and a major freaking geek. She wears glasses, and has since I can remember. When we were little she always got in trouble for kicking the shit out of other kids. They had it coming. She is a soccer Mom who hates soccer Moms. Now that she is done breeding and lactating, she has gleefully returned to caffeine, chocolate and alcohol. She cracks me up with the rum and cokes because she gets buzzed off like half an ounce of rum in a 12-ounce glass over the course of an afternoon.

Sharky had a pretty crappy childhood too, worse than mine. Her parents got divorced when she was in grade school. Having had such a tough time growing up, Sharky made up her mind she was going to be a good Mom and be there for her kids. Sharky and Sensei have four kids who are some of my favorite little people in the world, actually nowadays a couple of them are more like medium people then little people. They have Charlie who is in fifth grade, Sally who is in third grade, Lucy who is in kindergarten, and Linus who is too little for any school just yet. Their kids are such different people from each other, it is amazing to me to watch them grow up.

When my Dad died Sharky was the first person I called after my older sisters. Sensei was a pallbearer. When my Mom died nine days later, they were the first people I called again. Sharky came with me to make the arrangements for my Mom. Church totally killed us all when my Dad died. We could not take watching another coffin going up and down all those stairs again. We had a nice service at the funeral home for my Mom where we could be much more irreverent. I do not remember much of anything about it at all, but my friends tell me it was nice. Sharky also made me feel a lot better about the whole crapfest about my birthday. I was so upset about it when my parents died, Sharky told me "Lana, sometimes my kids do stuff that make me want to peel off my skin and die, but I still love them all the time, and nothing they ever do could make me not love them. Your Mom and Dad love you like that too." Like I said, Sharky is pretty cool.