Pelagia Noctiluca

Pelagia Noctiluca

Sunday, December 21

Winter Love with a Side of Jack Torrence

I love that this town shuts down in the snow! I love trudging through the glinty wonderment while my car nestles ever deeper into its spot. I love the Shining-esque thoughts that stab through snowy hedges and make me jump at falling icicles. I love the Christmas lights reflecting like candy, and if nobody were looking, I might taste one. I love that it's too billowy to get hurt when I fall down. Oh, and I love David Bowie.

Friday, October 31

Happy Rotting Pumpkins!

If my camera batteries weren't dead, I could forever capture my Halloween Creepshow Jack-O-Lantern, whose eyes and nostrils are swarming with beetles, earwigs and potato bugs.

Monday, October 27

Sun in my Freezing Eyes

Why, yes, student loans lady, I would like a another year to get my shit together. Thank you. May I bake you a pie?

Three days left at my - equally - most stressful and most favorite job.

According to the work kids, I am both the best cook and the clumsiest person they have ever known. Except that I burnt everything this weekend.

Saturday, October 25

Magic of Seasons

Oh, favorite, fuzzy one, neglected in the corner. How long since I even glanced your way? You shiver and pill in anticipation of being noticed, cleaned, even aired out just a bit. At last, on this October morn, I hear your cries, and pluck you from the pile. You brush my face and your breath is, wait, not pungent, not even stale, in fact, did somebody wash you while I was away? The dry suds of apartment air and smelly candles have craftily rendered you fresh and soft. Skip the basket, and slip onto me. Mmmm, seasonal self cleaning is the freshest.

Sunday, October 19

More Circles

You're never stuck, there are always choices.

It boils down to body parts. Literally, even? I made chicken pot pie last night entirely out of leftovers, boiled the carcass for the gravy, prepared in 2 hours, consumed in 2 minutes.

There are body parts on the side of the road on my way to work. I hadn't noticed that I had noticed them until my sleep brain showed me in the form of children being tossed into traffic. They squashed and exploded like Crash Bandicoot losing at Frogger in San Andreas. The following day, I lurched slightly off the road when my dream lay ahead on the pavement. Ohhhh, THOSE body parts. Reel 3 days back, and I had vaguely noticed that a red sweater in the street looked like Crash Bandicoot hitting a TNT crate. That one second thought long forgotten, one of my kids darted into the street that night, which had me bitching for about a minute or 2, then on to the next activity at hand. Mix in several cups of drama and a teaspoon of catalyst, and it's night night with Jack Torrence.

Sunday, October 5

Freeforming Circles

So, questions are better.

What side of a heart do you draw first?

"The right side. And my left is always lopsided" - from Emerald - as is the survey, which is long so I cut out some questions - I like doing the symmetrical fold and cut heart too.

Can you dive without plugging your nose?

Yes, I could live underwater, I might have been a mermaid once.

Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?

Ghast, nobody. 24 hours? Even if toileting and hygiene weren't an issue, I like a bubble, thank you.

Where are you right now?

Home in pajamas, trying not to thing about work. Wait I have pudding. One of my work perks is pudding, and I just remembered the chocolaty goodness I brought home. My new job will not have pudding, that will be an adjustment.

How many chairs at the dining room table?

I have 2 dining room tables set up all crafty and shit with one chair in between.

What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator?

Try to find an emergency escape hatch, fiddle with the buttons, maybe set off a smoke detector, if nothing worked, I'd just space out until someone arrived.

T or F: All is fair in love and war?

What is fair about either one? Both involve lots of travel and unfamiliar customs.

Do you like to sleep?

Not so much. I feel like I'm missing something, and I wake up anxious to get busy. I remember being a kid and being excited to go to another land for the night. My goal was always to remember as many dreams as possible. Sometimes I can tap into that, but not often enough.

Do you know which US states don’t use Daylight Savings?

I know it was the only thing I liked about living in Arizona. I resent daylight savings both ways, up and down.

Do you want a bright yellow ‘06 mustang?


What’s something you’ve always wanted?

I really just miss having a dog.

Do you wear a lot of black?

I've been called Morticia a few times, yes.

Describe your hair.

Freshly dipped in red.

Where do you wish you were right now?

Actually, I'm liking where I am more and more. My carpets could be less stained, and I wish I were more tired.

Monday, September 29

28 Days and a Wake Up

New job, new job, new, job. My excitement props up my fatigue like dewy tent poles. I've been a counselor in a group home for teens for the last two years, working until midnight or later five nights a week. We're all about extremes, leave your moderation at the door, please. Wait, we don't say please. We say, "Look Bitch! Give me my fucking sweet snack, or I will fucking kick your ass! Fuck you! I am being respectful!" Or in a happy moment, "Fuck, Dog! This is best fucking porkchop I've had in my whole fucking life! You fucking rock! This is tight!"

Fucking, fucking, fuckity, fuck fuck. A quiet one passed through recently, and carefully whispered to me, "I never knew there were so many ways to use "fuck" in a sentence. I think I'm ready to go home now." She was one of the small handful of non-abused/non-abusive kids, who are sent to us for a reality check. Suddenly their parents are not so unreasonable, and they are desperate to return home to normal rules and boundaries.

Things I've lost track of: How many holes have been punched in walls, though I could estimate the number next to my face. How many times I've been called a bitch. The number of police visits, abuse stories, chairs thrown, and incident reports all blend together. However, the number of actual contacted hits in the last two years? Two. One between 2 kids that ended in less than 10 seconds, and one in my face. I hurt myself far more playing basketball.

Positive things I've lost track of: The number of ridiculous, laughing basketball games I've played. The number of children's stories I've read that the kids have never heard of. How many times I've watched a teenager draw for the first time, write a poem, play a song, and realize that they are actually good at it. Even, finally, the number of successful home placements and jobs has become blurry.

Now, it's time to get some sleep, to slow down a bit. I'll be working with a lot of the same kids, but in the daytime, and in fewer numbers. I'm afraid I'll get bored and antsy, but I'm sure I'll find something interesting to channel my energy. Something that involves less swearing. A pair of sparkly Mary Janes skipped by me on a four year old last week, and I said aloud, and luckily just out of earshot, "Damn, those are some nice fucking shoes!"

Saturday, September 27

Chopped Thoughts

It's a lovely morning for a woodchipper. Oh look, it has a little flag on it. Wake up, get some mulching in before lunch. What? It's 1 pm? How does that happen? No wonder my morning dreams were so noisy. Race cars, a broken xerox machine, and a flock of bees drowned out the words of the other dream participants. Eww, and one of them became an asshole english teacher from highschool, who I haven't thought of in years. Weird - to Betsy - Mr Scott - how the hell did he get in my dream? I can hardly remember having any interaction with him. The woodchipper turned someone else into him.

Sunny, crisp and blue today. I wish work started now. One more month of midnight swing shift, then the new job begins. Moving to a new time of day is almost as good as moving dwellings.

Thursday, September 25


You know your family is materialistic when ups trucks trigger flashbacks.

Wednesday, September 24

But why?

So now, youtube won't work for me here? Oh well, at least I'm back home in green blogger land.

Thursday, September 18

Wordpress is holding me hostage

That dashboard feature is still gone. I can't post or delete my blog. I'm a technological retard. Blogger is for retards. Yay for retards. I tell my work kids not to say retard. It's inappropriate and I like to reserve it for my own personal use. One of my favorite co-workers says, "if it doesn't have a sexual orientation or a developmental disability, please don't call it gay or retarded." That phrase is reserved for staff. Thank you.

Monday, September 15


Back here now. I have no patience for plug-ins, the dashboard dealy is missing, and the font over at wordpress is making me itchy. Blogger's puffy print for computer retards suits me spot on.

I disappeared for a while, mired in social services burn out. I applied for about 52 jobs and 38 apartments in the last 2 weeks, and landed, nothing. Some exaggeration there, but not much. Then I had a good day again, and I was very happy to not have gotten any of the 73 jobs I applied for. Now, I am testing out a day schedule this week, in hopes for a little change and more sleep. It's 7:22 am. This is airport time. Except I'm only going four blocks.

Sunday, August 17

Moving over here -

- for a bit to see.

Mauve Matters

Mostly because I twisted my ankle, and I'm antsy for something complicated. For me, wordpress is complicated. But there you are.

so far


Sunday, August 10

Stop writing and go to sleep

I have sea legs, the day was so full. Among the rainy beach with romping dog, work duties of basketball and cake baking, hot sweaty dancing, and an unfamiliar living room speckled with pretty eyes, one shiny moment is gleaming through. I was writing the inventory of a girl's belongings at work, going through her make-up, noting each brand on the form for her to sign. Even with my new glasses, I had to squint closely at each name, holding it up to my face. Mass carrr a? No, mass what, mass aaa ger? Massager? Oh, she says, that's my vibrator, sorry about that.

Saturday, August 9

Dog Makes Sleep

So many things to dream of in eight luscious hours. Two consecutive such nights, and my memory is a storybook of images. Bright primaries, fragrant trees, and the energy to race through them. Last week, I declined a ride on a carnival train, because I was too weary to rise from the brown, prickly grass. I whined to myself that there were likely as many ants on the train as there were on my legs, and when I awoke for the zillionth time that evening, it took a full minute to know where and when I was. You know you're fatigued when you whine in your dreams.

But, now, I have the dog for 2 weeks, and clearly, I need to create permanent dogdom. The security is huge as my neighbors become sketchier each day, but truly, it is the warmth on my feet and the pulse of another life nearby. I can drop my guard and shut my brain off without worry. All is safe in the land of the furry.

Friday, August 1


I forget that mornings are so crispy and fresh. I'm trying a new insomnia tactic, setting my alarm in the morning, which worked last night. I got up at 8 after 3ish hours of sleep, and groggy though I was, the crispiness soothed me. I painted, coffeed, walked around the lake, and it was still daytime. There were so many hours of daylight yesterday! Went to sleep at midnight, and up at 10. It's still morning! Writing skills seem to be slipping, but who's judging, right?

Each hour of the day has it's own distinct quality, and I hate to miss any of them. Morning crispiness is a novelty, so I'll check that out for a while. The 11am hour is curious, you can see the sky thinking. Which way should I go today? Regardless of the morning being bright or dim, 11 seems to go neutral gray to reform it's plan.

I'd be hard pressed to pick a favorite, Bob, but 3am, it might be. The night is ending, traffic is an occasional hum. I turn off my music to hear the silence between the finally crashed barking dogs and the soon to be awake screeching birds. This has also always been the time when break-in's or domestic ugliness in the hood occur, giving this hour a lurking tension that could shatter the calm at any time. By 4 am, all is clear. (The writers of The Strangers figured that out.)

The trouble with 4 am for me is that morning is beginning, and if I'm still awake at this hour, I don't want to miss what's coming, and I tend to just stay up, which renders me useless for what does come.

5am is just irritating. Unless I'm on my way to an airport or in the 1st hour of a roadtrip. I could easily type away a 24 paragraph essay on the unique qualities of each hour, but now I'd rather be outside.

Wednesday, July 30

For Example

I can't properly operate the sharing deal from youtube, but here you are.

People skills!

Why I can't sleep #3

I'm so tired, my skin hurts. It's after 1 am, work is over, and my bed is waiting. Sometimes, I'm too spazzy to sleep, other times I can't leave a painting or crafty project. Tonight is the lesser, but most aggravating cause of insomnia: self-destructive worry over shortcomings. I'm hoping that putting this in print will drive the absurdity into my brain hard enough to knock me out.

I never thought a teen shelter would be my favorite job. It is depressing, chaotic, fun, uplifting, dangerous, easy, and natural. I'm good because I remember every detail kids tell me, and know what to do with it. I can de-escalate crazy shit, deal with ugly cps reporting, and basically I'm good and almost all of it.

The Butt. I took "attention to detail" off my resume, because it caused employers to notice typos. I have no "attention to detail," and filling out paperwork properly, and getting to the right person at the right time sucks. I can not collate properly if those kids lives depended on it, and in some cases, they do. I managed a crazy house last night, but screwed up a ton of paperwork. Everything turned out fine, but it stresses me out. Paperwork is bad.

Ha, I just made myself laugh. Cue Tom from Office Space. "I'm a people person, Dammit! I'm good with people! What is wrong with you?"

Yes, that was helpful.

Monday, July 21

Weird, it's still Monday

I want to watch a movie, and I'm in foggy coffee mode. So here.

Ten movies you’d watch over and over:
Jaws, Grease, The Beastmaster, Stripes, Caddychack, Jeremiah Johnson, The Shining, Wizard of Oz, Sound of Music, Office Space. That was rapid fire movie listing, and pretty much covers my personal library. Ooh, except, I don't own Jaws and I should.

Nine people you enjoy the company of: To protect identities, let's do nine locales of those I love.
Kansas City, Los Angeles, Denver, Seattle, Nashville, Olympia, Woodinville, WA, Everett, WA, Augusta, GA.

Eight things you’re wearing: Eight? It's July.
-blue thermal top - well, July in Olympia
-red flannel pajamas
-blue fleece blanky - Olympia is home of the Eeyore Summer.
-blue sparkly toenail polish
(foreshadowing note - nothing I'm wearing is green)

Seven things on your mind:
work - wish that wasn't first
basketball - still a novelty that I love, AND, someone gave me shoes so that I can fall less and pivot more
batman movie - going to see it on thursday
silverfish painting that is developing, and general summer insect infestation
coffee - need a second cup, and need to vacuum
a really disturbing bad dream I had last night that doesn't make sense to me yet
crafty projects for kids, sort of a constant flow, I can't help it

Next is a boring question - let's add green

Six green objects you touch every day:
green water bottle - still off the DC Wagon, holding steady - wait, that makes no sense - can't think over the twitching
green purse - bought with one week's supply of DC$ I did not spend
green pine tree, it's 6 years old now and in the biggest pot I can find - soon it will need ground
green pillow, towel, general linens
green curtains - ho-made even
green car - there are days I don't drive, but I pat it as I walk by

Five things you do everyday: Other than basic hygiene and food consumption, I can't think of any five things I do every day. Hmmm. Ok: read something, make something, spaz out somewhere, listen to music, laugh at something.

Four things that you see when you turn your head to the left:
Paintings, fake spider on the wall, vacuum that is oh, so close, and an object that I need to send to someone in Kansas City.

Three of your favorite things that are red color:
diet coke, tab cans in the dark, blazing crack pipes

Two people who have influenced your life the most:
My monk Uncle and probably my dad, but it's hard to narrow this one down.

One person who has been nice to you today:
The one who shall receive the item on the table to the left.

Why I love my job, number Q7X52

When basketball switched up to frisbee tonight at work, my extreme suckage was noted by all. From across the court, a shout, "You just might save the world, because you sure suck at everything else."

If I were the Grinch, my heart would burst its frame.

Wednesday, July 16

I Remember Now

That was amazing. Really incredible. My eyes are all the way open and the birds don't irritate me. Twelve hour crash, mm, mm, mmmmm.

Tonight I will take my camera with me, so that when I return home, I can document the nightly pestilence that coats my front door. It's like Amityville Horror, but instead of flies, it is a flock of earwig-ant-looking-hybrids. There was also a large midwestern-style cockroach looking creature to the right, that I'm not ready to call a cockroach yet.

Sunday, July 13

Something scary this way comes

So far, I sleep even less without diet coke. How is that possible? One cup of coffee this morning, and it is this morning again. I saw the sun rise yesterday as I finally went under, then woke up 5 hours later. But, this bird was born, oooooooo. David Bowie is on the radio now, and that is always somehow cooler than me putting it on myself.

Monday, July 7

You Know Who You Are

So, two of you have blog names that take up more than one line in my link list, and that bugs me. However, it would bug me more to somehow edit your titles. There. I had to say it.


Did I say I only blog when I'm crabby? That's not true, I'm not crabby right now, I'm just fascinated by these squid balls. I also have frozen peas strapped to my foot from a spastic basketball game, so I'm stuck sitting still for a bit. I'm not sure what the blog etiquette is on stealing other people's photos for your own blog, but I'm taking the chance here because just look at them, those inky squid balls. The photo was taken by Elyse Sewell, who writes like an assassin and documents food of my nightmares. Makes sense to me, if not to you. So, it's time to add more links to the side and she will be one. More blogetiquette quandry, I left myspace primarily over wanting to ditch specific "friends," and found it was easier just to close the page and start anew. How do other bloggerites feel about deleting a link that you've had up for a while? I'm prone to abstract guilt, and that sort of thing stresses me out. I guess that's another area that blogging allows me to practice on. Who cares, right? It's my blog right? Can I really worry about hurting someone's feelings that way? I could, but I shant. I started this blog privately with 8 readers, and got brave enough to "go public" a month or so in. I'm anonymous enough, that people I don't want to find me, likely won't, but if they stumble across me, oh well. I don't tell the locals or the co-workers, and I don't want to be linked by those who know me in real life. Maybe I'll let go of that last hang-up next month. Or maybe by the end of this post.

The stolen squid balls seem to have a built-in-anti-theft-device, and I can not post the picture here. So, go to her, and see for yourself.

Sunday, July 6

Red Crack

It seems that red crack is as hard to quit as pink crack. Here is me in my swank red gown, about to be bent over by the gleaming red crack pipe of love. I've only had 4 sips in 4 days, and the result is that I'm dreaming of my first love, which perhaps, I should have never abandoned. However, I do know a spot nearby that sells those pretty pink singles.

Friday, July 4

Worth It

If I read through my old journals, I think, "dude, try whining a bit more." Then I note the dates, and the lapses in between entries. I look for even one page that is positive, and find none. I tend not to write when I'm at peace. I use writing to sort myself out, and blog writing has become a way to do it more honestly. Do I mean that I lie in my handwritten journals? Well, yes, actually. I'm a lot meaner in there too. Here, everything has to be honest and at least somewhat objective. My words are legible and waiting to confront me the next day. So, I haven't blogged in 2 weeks because I've been happy with nothing to vent about. Sometimes I need to post a video, because that better conveys my chipperness. Today? I'm frustrated with things that I feel I can't blog about. My brain is rehashing old gripes that are making me freshly angry again. Regrets are a waste of time, I know that, but I still feel like yelling at people who I should have yelled at louder the first time.

On the positive side of things, because I do hate whiners, I'm feeling better after being sick for a couple of days. I'm pretty sure I slept for 36 straight hours. I'm excited for the festivities tonight with people I dearly love. I have been sleeping in a BED for 3 days! Funny, maybe that's why I got sick, so my body could lounge in bed. You see, it would have been too self pitying to share that I have been sleeping on my couch for 10 months. Damn. 10 months since I lived with my husband, my dog, my bed. Sometimes it feels like yesterday, and other times I can hardly remember it all. A year ago today, I was miserable and accepting that there was no way out. But, that is never true, there is always a way out. You just might have to sleep on your couch for a while. You might even have to prop up your couch with books as it becomes a 3 legged couch. But, it's YOUR 3 legged couch, and you get to do what ever you want on it. It is worth it to make the effort to be happy.

Friday, June 13

The Cat. Stomp-John Hartford

Goin' To Work In Tall Buildings - John Hartford

Oh Hell

How did I miss the fact that I had this interview on Friday the 13th?!? I had no idea. I'm golden, now!

"Off to work in tall buildings." John Hartford


Sometimes in job interviews, I make random jokes that nobody understands. Then I try to explain myself with another joke. Then the panel exchanges confused glances as they write on their notepads. I resist asking what they are writing.

sweaty questions

I just had a job interview, and I have no clue how it went. Possibly well, possibly less than impressive. They will let me know, "soon," they said.

I'm assuming soon means Monday if I'm lucky. Damn the anticipation.

Thursday, June 12

Friday, June 6

Book Meme

Because, this is an actual meme, so to speak. It's the top 106 books most often marked as “unread” by LibraryThing’s users.

Library Thing is pretty cool, which I found on rayne of terror along with this list. I've grouped them into ones I read, started but stalled, never read, and never heard of. I'm surprised how many I've never heard of. This seems like a fine activity to lull me to sleep. Yoshimi Battling the Robots helps the sleep groove too.

Done Read It

The Odyssey (136/11183) - I like this and most mythology really
Ulysses (135/6385)
The Iliad (117/8902)
Foucault's Pendulum (101/5730)
Dracula (100/7076)
The Grapes of Wrath (99/7967)
Gulliver's Travels (88/4967)
The Road (67/5323)
Beowulf: A New Verse Translation (72/6470) - Kill me now, was not bad enough the first time around?
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (75/2570)
In Cold Blood (75/5603)
Lady Chatterley's Lover (73/3246)
A Confederacy of Dunces (73/6186) - One of my top favorites.
The Canterbury Tales (108/6298)
The Scarlet Letter (82/7927)
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (82/6014)
Watership Down (72/6362) - Another favorite
The Picture of Dorian Gray (89/7338)
Frankenstein (97/9327)
The Aeneid (71/5154)
Memoirs of a Geisha (94/11834)
Brave New World (93/12677)
Angela's Ashes (77/6498)
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies (104/7638)
The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli (72/6483)
Oliver Twist (83/4488)

Fits and Starts

Jane Eyre (124/14044) Bo-Ring
Wuthering Heights (162/12388)Notice how many of these books are on this list
The Name of the Rose (120/7876) Maybe another day, I liked Foucault's Pendulum
Pride and Prejudice (108/18747)
Treasure Island (69/4736) - I've never read the whole thing, but now I'm reading it out loud at work.
Dune (89/9416)
The Kite Runner (106/13964)
Great Expectations (106/8790)
Life of Pi (105/12940)
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (71/5658)
A Clockwork Orange (83/6890)
Middlesex (91/9084)
The War of the Worlds (66/3131)
David Copperfield (69/4408)
Cryptonomicon (78/6203)
Robinson Crusoe (82/4528)

Never Read, Might Someday

Anna Karenina (211/9152)
One Hundred Years of Solitude (183/12222)
Crime and Punishment (176/10899)
Catch-22 (158/11121)
A Tale of Two Cities (124/7600)
Moby Dick (119/7879)
Love in the Time of Cholera (114/7312)
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books (96/4491)
The Book Thief (67/3743)
Les Misérables (73/4799)
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (89/6766)
The history of Tom Jones (67/2171)
A Farewell to Arms (71/5219)

Never Heard of These - new things to look up

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (236/9195)
The Silmarillion (155/8980)
Vanity Fair (115/3885)
The Blind Assassin (110/4938)
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (97/6549)
Mrs. Dalloway (97/5684)
The Satanic Verses (88/3305)
Mansfield Park (88/5483)
The Inferno (84/5988)
The Corrections (84/5146)
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (83/6091)
The Historian: A Novel (108/6596)
Middlemarch (96/4239
The Sound and The Fury (94/5141)
Quicksilver (92/4107)
American Gods (92/10560)
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West (90/9089)
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (89/6766)
The Satanic Verses (88/3305)
Mansfield Park (88/5483)
The Inferno (84/5988)
The Corrections (84/5146)
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (83/6091)
To the Lighthouse (83/4711)
Persuasion (82/6634)
Anansi Boys (81/6665)
Atonement (80/7193)
The God of Small Things (80/5615)
A Short History of Nearly Everything (79/6433)
Dubliners (78/5643)
Oryx and Crake (78/4069)
Beloved (77/5651)
Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed (76/3914)
The Amber Spyglass (72/6819)
Sons and Lovers (69/2617)
Possession (67/4211)
Tender is the Night (66/3204)

Never Read, Probably Won't

Don Quixote (152/6835)
The Brothers Karamazov (136/7309)
War and Peace (132/6123)
Madame Bovary (132/6396)
Emma (117/9347)
The Three Musketeers (87/4221)
The Once and Future King (81/4375)
The Time Traveler's Wife (105/11628)
Atlas Shrugged (102/6103)
Sense and Sensibility (96/8798)
The Count of Monte Cristo (95/5295)
The Fountainhead (83/5925)
Tess of the D'Urbervilles (83/4825)

Thursday, June 5

Bitch Tits

I woke up with Bob and his Bitch Tits in my head. I've been battling Fight Club style insomnia, and I need to own the movie again, so I can put it on next time the 4 am walls taunt and tease me. This morning, (yes I know it's after 1 pm), I'm basking in the upside of sleeplessness, the post-crash full body exhale of relief. Night before last I did not sleep, not at all. I watched the numbers turn over and the alarm sound, and out of confused spite, I hit snooze and watched 10 more numbers turn until it was time to get up. Then I worked from 8am to midnight, which is actually the very best thing to do on no sleep, because it guarantees THE CRASH. I left work last night, with the house still standing, kids asleep, and I slept for 12 straight hours. Right this second, I can't name a single thing in life that felt better than last night's sleep. The sweet slurpy-ness of the word SLEEP, soothes me, and I love my pillow so much I might marry it.

Monday, June 2

Glittery Pools

My social services tantrum wave crashed, and left me floating in a shallow pool of leeches, starfish and plastic swingsets. I might as well enjoy the ride, said the parrot as it was being dragged along by the cat. That's gypsy speak, not me, but you get my drift. A fuck you here, and a fat bitch there, here a fight, there a scream, everywhere a mess mess. So, I took a break to the park with the one non-freaking-out kid, where he apologized for that whole knife deal a couple weeks back. We swang, we teeter-tottered, and we talked about how giving in to the comedy of life is the key to surviving it. Good food helps too.

Monday, May 26

How did "survey" become "meme"?

I'm about to do a SURVEY as I sip my coffee, and I'm hung up as always on the word MEME. This trendy concept is teetering on the edge of the "where's the beef?" and "not" trash sack. According to some random site,

"A meme is:
An idea that, like a gene, can replicate and evolve.
A unit of cultural information that represents a basic idea that can be transferred from one individual to another, and subjected to mutation, crossover and adaptation.
A cultural unit (an idea or value or pattern of behavior) that is passed from one generation to another by nongenetic means (as by imitation); "memes are the cultural counterpart of genes"."

So, I suppose that a survey can count as #2, but I have a hard time viewing my personal stats as "a unit of cultural information." Granted, my words sound more important when framed this way, but I'd just rather have some fries with ketchup.


Favorite person (outside family)? I've turned all my favorite people inside out, and now they are my family.

Favorite food? Diet Coke, which I'm considering quitting lately, but........

Quirks about you? I get hung up on stupid catch phrases that irritate me for no good reason. So if a meme is an idea that replicates and evolves, like a gene, what are some modern-day examples? Recycling? Pilates? Midget Porn? The Brazilian Wave? Maybe it's because I work with kids, or maybe it's that I like fibrous materials, but Dude, grown-ups should have body hair. There is enough to consider when removing clothing for the first time with someone, without worrying about slippery or stubbly baldness. Let's paint banners and picket. Ban the Brazilian! Bring back the Bush!

Any regrets in life? I'm a stubborn Pollyanna. I really don't do regret, I can name something positive I got out of every single experience.

Favorite Charity/Cause? I think I covered that two questions back.

Favorite Blog recently? Yarnwhore pointed me here: elyse sewell

Something you can’t get enough of? Diet Coke. Do I need to go back to Tab and just have one a day? I found a smelly market here that sells them by the singles. Chug, toss, peel out.

Worst job you’ve ever had? This is almost a regret, if I were to have those, olan mills family portraits. I sold my soul on the "dinner shift" for two months.

What job would you pay NOT to have? Anything to do with fish or cockroaches.

If you could be a fly on the wall, where? Everywhere. I would be fly battalions and know all. Except I'd rather be a gnat, so I don't have to eat my own vomit.

Favorite Bible verse right now? "That's a tough one Bob, I'd be hard pressed to pick a favorite."

Got any confessions? Now I have Violent Femmes in my head.

If you HAD to spend $1,000 on YOURSELF, how would you spend it? Art supplies and a vacation to a friend.

Favorite thing about your house? It's quiet and mine.

Least favorite thing about your house? I still need a dog.

One thing you are bad at? Paperwork, stripping speaker wire.

One thing you’re good at? My job, crafty crap, and I can cook now.

What makes you feel sexy? Body hair. Sorry. Hmm..... Saccharin.

What is the hardest part of your job? Politics.

When are you most relaxed? In the middle of a painting.

What stresses you out? Paperwork, understanding insurance crap.

What can you not live without? Art supplies and crafty crap.

Why do you blog? Because I miss paper-writing, and I like to hear myself blather on.

Friday, May 16

That's no heater

I woke up this morning thinking I'd left the heater on high, but no. The warmth is natural Springtime beaming in, considerate and replenishing. There are large amounts of trash outside that landed throughout the night on the lawn across the street, and a sign I need to go investigate more closely. I was ushered to my car by police when I went out last night. My block was lined with cop cars, a Jail van, and an armored car/van/contraption. As I pulled away, about 10 heavily armed cops were surrounding the house across the street. Half of them were still there until 3am. My favorite part was the cry of "Cops Smoke Crack!" from a passing car, followed by a loud "Wump" of something landing on the lawn. Ballsy, eh? I was really amused at how much heckling took place. It seems that I'm not the only disgruntled civilian in town.

Monday, May 12

Some of my best friends are cops

That's such a bad joke, oh well. A smidge of my cop faith was restored last night. When I said I had encountered one or two good ones, he was who I was thinking of, and the one who showed up last night. He was compassionate, realistic and human. He was kind to the kid while arresting him, and he was a hard-ass on the phone to detention when they tried to refuse him. The kid had threatened me with a knife this time, and another staff with other various heavy objects. Dispatch is tired of hearing about this kid, so they only sent one cop, instead of the usual pair. So, there finally is the chance that he won't be back in the house today.

The day began with adrenaline and chaos, and ended with storytime. I love that teenagers let me read to them. I read "There's a Hair in My Dirt," by Gary Larson, and one of them exclaimed, "this guy's as weird as you!" Now I have a list of kid book requests, so I'm going to the library on my way to work. And tomorrow, I have the day off.

Thursday, May 8


So, the kid spent 14 hours in juvie and returned to the house. Nothing has changed. Assault charges are pending, and he's still waiting for a hospital placement. The whole thing seems like a huge waste of time and mental effort. The arrest means nothing, which brings us, (staff, us), back to the original position of why bother calling the police at all. We don't call based on the action of being hit or shoved. We call when a kid is so out of control that the other kids are unsafe. Usually, we call after 4-5 separate incidents, or if a kid refuses to put down a weapon of some sort. But, once it's down the police won't take them. So Kid X sets the stick, bottle of bleach, glass shard, and nods respectfully to the officer for about 20 minutes. Which is handy, in that it removes a kid from the group for that amount of time, but useless in the long run. It seems that the only reason to call the cops is to get a kid out of the house for the night, which I guess, is helpful. But, it doesn't help the kid at all, it just shuts him up for a few hours. So, blah blah blah, that's my system vent about the depressing side of my job.

On the flip side, my hippie neighbor gave me his apartment and all it's contents yesterday. Bequeathed, so to speak, so he can bolt for the midwest, because that's how he rolls. His words, not mine. I haven't investigated yet, but the curiosity will have me there by tomorrow. Only in O-Town, or only to me, I'm not sure. Maybe I gave birth to this town in a former life.

Wednesday, May 7

Cop Vent

I have never liked cops. Police officers. I figured it was just me for a while, and I'd get over it as I matured. Became legal. Looked normal. Whatever. This a venty vent, no flowers today. Algernon rots in the slammer. I have met 2 maybe 3 good ones, and I know there must be more. I know there must be police who have hearts and open minds and use them. There is one in particular who is awesome, and when I know he is nearby, I'm more likely to call them when I need them. Last night at work was crappy and high-pitched, and there seemed to be hardly a minute not spitting with adrenaline. I pressed charges against one of my kids for shoving me. This is the second time a kid has been arrested due to me. I hate this part of the job more than when the toilet exploded in my face and hair. He could have been arrested on saturday for shoving me then, or grabbing and pushing an old lady staff, or throwing a stick at yet another staff's face, or shoving me three separate times on sunday. We called the police earlier yesterday when he was running around the house with knives from the kitchen. The cop said, you see, he was just kidding and doesn't understand. The cop actually was very compassionate to the kid, so noted and appreciated. However, he refused to arrest him over the knives. (Regular table knives, not chopping ones.) Never mind the other kids living in the house. We called again after I got shoved twice, and the cop said, "What do you want me to do, he's only 12." Yep, 12. With numerous assault charges. I called all the right bosses, and they all said press charges, and the cop grilled me on how is this therapeutic for the kid. He said he's not in the business of arresting 12 year olds. Really? Because, that's my favorite part of the job. By the time the cop actually took him, the kid was medicated and curled up in pajamas. I wish they could arrest a kid the next morning and let him sleep, but no. So, the cop shuffled him out in his pj's and I was heartless wretch who signed off on the paperwork. So, even though this is a rant about being treated shittily by the po po, the po po treated the kid how I wanted him to. Fucked up twist. Maybe it's just me who is always on the wrong side of the law. I don't know. I just know that last night sucked, and I'm still rattled and need lots of loud music, and a shower.

Cop Killer


Saturday, May 3


Check out my high-techness to the right. Yes, it's one of those fancy counter dealies. I started at 111, and I'm pretty sure most hits since are me messing with it, but still. I might as well have built a robot.

I'm not so much in the mood to go to work today. Oh well, too bad for me. Means I need to do something messy when I get there.

Thursday, May 1

Go Suck a Hoof

At least I'm not a vegetarian. Are hooves and connective tissue really that much worse than muscle and skin? Before yesterday, I would have said absolutely, but now I have to reorganize my values. I thought Ashley was whacked yesterday making non-gelatin krispie treats. I also thought they were marshmellows, not mallows. But, it seems it was I who was whacked and woefully misinformed. My information is outdated by about 150 years. I shared my plight with a co-worker who plans to laugh at me for the next 3 weeks. He said, "What, you thought marshmallows came from the marshmallow plant, that grows on the bank of a marsh?"

Yes, that's exactly what I thought, dammit. I did some fancy internet research, and learned that I was right! Or, that I would have been right if it were just a century or so earlier.


They are called "marshmallows" because part of the early recipe called for sap from the root of the marshmallow plant.
According to Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, a marshmallow is:

1: a pink-flowered European perennial herb (Althaea officinalis) of the mallow family that is naturalized in the eastern U.S. and has a mucilaginous root sometimes used in confectionery and in medicine; 2: a confection made from the root of the marshmallow or from corn syrup, sugar, albumen, and gelatin beaten to a light spongy consistency
That word "mucilaginous" means "jelly-like." [My new favorite word.] Later, the root was replaced by gelatin, and that is how modern marshmallows are made.


"Marshmallow candy dates back to ancient Egypt where it was a honey-based candy flavored and thickened with the sap of the root of the Marsh-Mallow plant (althea officinalis). Marsh-Mallow grows in salt marshes [HA!] and on banks near large bodies of water. [It must grow on the banks of the River Wahoo.] It is common in the eastern United States. Until the mid 1800's, marshmallow candy was made using the sap of the Marsh-Mallow plant. Gelatin replaces the sap in the modern recipes."

"Nineteenth century doctors extracted juice from the marsh mallow plant's roots and cooked it with egg whites and sugar, then whipped the mixture into a foamy meringue that later hardened, creating a medicinal candy used to soothe children's sore throats. Eventually, advanced manufacturing processes and improved texturing agents eliminated the need for the gooey root juice altogether. Unfortunately, that eliminated the confection's healing properties as a cough suppressant, immune system booster and wound healer."

So there is more than I ever wanted to know about marshMELLOWS. I want a marsh mallow plant and I want to try the real deal. Until then I must ponder the connective tissue assortment that I have ingested over the years.

rice krispie treats, smores, peeps, yes I like peeps, that weird chocolate orange mallow candy, mallomars, marshmallow fluff, mmm suck that right up, and just basic, pop em in your mouth, single mallowy marshmallows.

I don't think I want to stop, even though I'm flashing back to watching my dog slurp, shluurp, shhlluuurpp, his rawhide into soft, white, stringy, slimy, mucilaginous nastiness. The silver lining to all this, is that I might as well start eating jello again.

Tuesday, April 29

Midwinter Jicker

I'm sure Olympia is on some part of the way to Solla Salloo. Good Heavens, maybe it IS Solla Salloo, and that's the whole point. Hell. The river, Wahoo is racing down the street. It's dumping midwestern buckets out there, washing away the hail pebbles from moments ago. There is just enough light from the blue spots in the sky to notice the cherry blossoms dodging the raindrops. Whoops, I refilled my coffee, and it's done now, very bright, yellowy gray, but bright.

I get the blog thing now, I like this just because I like to write, and I like to read. Go Speed Racer. One of my favorite parts of school was the paper writing, and reading other people's work. Lately, I'm really enjoying all these blogs I'm reading. Finally started Streets of Laredo too, and that is a hard hitter so far. Anyway, phlegm brains make for disjointed writing. Moving on. Here's where I test my high tech linking abilities.

The first blogs I read were friends splendid sustenance and second overtime, or at least those that came before, never mind. Someone is whistling in my ear, and as far as I can tell, I am alone. I found chobitss randomly, and now I spy her on other pages I read. I can not explain beyond the pure pinkness, why I like her so much. I guess I'm fascinated by her food pictures and her cheerful disposition.

Then there is a small cluster of pages I read sometimes, and just recently, when I clicked a link, it led to myself, which made me laugh. They are in no particular order, and I'm sure I'm forgetting some, all and sundry, sprinting to hell, absolutely nothing novel or unique, no really, it's just my face, i write, and vw sista.

The sky is now screaming blue. Out.

Sunday, April 27

Happy Days in my Head

Ok, cool, the youtube video worked. Is there a way to put it into a post though, with writing, or does it have to be separate?

Anyway, the other day I woke up with a Happy Days episode in my head. The premiere of Spike. I don't want to hear any scrappy doo references or sell-out shark jumping pointers. I love every single happy days episode, plus all following spin-offs.

Laverne and Shirley are babysitting hellion children from my work, and rope Ritchie and Fonzie into helping. Fonz freaks out and bolts for the door declaring - "The Fonz don't hit kids." To Ritchie's, "where are you going?" He says, "to find someone who does."

Spike shows up, threatens everyone into submission, and everyone has a happy day. I guess I don't watch t.v. much now because I'm still laughing out loud at Happy Days. So, I couldn't find that episode, but I did find Crispin Glover as Roach. I love watching the Fonz teach college.

Crispin Glover on Happy Days

Thursday, April 24

The most beautiful bookshelf in town

It's finished! I'm so proud. Look, it's red like the tree painting, which is upside down at the moment. Look at the smooth finish and lovingly rounded corners. Notice how Tom Jones is waiting to sit on the bottom shelf. I've had my stereo in the kitchen cupboards for months now because I lack the perfect shelf. I'm weird about electronics that way. But, now, all comes together in deep red wood. Mm mm mmm.

Tuesday, April 22

Finished Drawing

Half painting really, watercolor pencils, colored pencils and a bit of acrylic paint for the bride. A lot of pencil sharpening went into this picture, and was fun and comical. Like a book, I'm sort of sad it's done. But, onward to something wet and more blendy.

There is a lot of space left here, so I think I'll fill it. Are these pictures blurry, or is it me? I know I need some spectacles, so hard to say.

Next morning, Wednesday. I dreamt of this crazy cherry tree. I was tasting it, and I was disappointed that it tasted like bubble gum. It's very fleshy looking, don't you think?

Monday, April 14

Two Halves

Here are two drawings in progress, that I'm stalling on, and hoping to boost my motivation by sharing. The wedding picture is cracking me up, and is for a co-worker, who has wooed my heart with her sexed-up-soccer-mom ways. Plus, she is a huge part of why I can cook now. Ordinarily, I never, ever do commissions, except for the occasional mural. I love to make art for other people, but I don't take money, and I don't draw images from other people's heads. The conversation intro of "you draw, right?" is usually followed by a yellowed photograph emerging from someone's pocket, in hopes that I can recreate it into something that doesn't require a magnifying glass to comprehend. When I balk, the reply, is "but I'll pay you," to which I say then Hell No. See, when someone asks me to paint a vision from their head, it can only look like my interpretation of that vision. That can disappoint. When you add money into the mix, the pressure of matching visions escalates and skews the entire process. I feel guilty if I disappoint, and the fun is gone. So, I had to laugh when this lovely woman produced this blurred image from her pocket for me to reproduce. I refused her money, firmly planted the word "interpretive" in her head, and said yes. Because I like her that much. Now, it's close to complete, and I fear it's muddiness. I fear the tree on the left, and I'm not sure of the mountainous forest in the background. I'm never unsure of my own visions, this is what happens. Let's not gloss over the psychobabble angle of drawing a wedding picture from a fresh divorce standpoint either. My dear-pain-in-the-ass co-worker suggested I think of this as therapy and pay her. I admit, she has a point. But, although it's a bittersweet project, I'm still a Pollyanna romantic, and the springtime happy image makes me smile. I just hope I don't regret my choice of watercolors, because they sure muddy up in an unskilled hand.

Next, half a lizard. The endangered chicken-foot lizard. He's just hanging out, wondering if anyone will ever finish him. Trouble is, there is a burning building on the flip-side that is slightly more demanding.

Sunday, April 13

Sunday Visuals

There are some tantalizing secrets today. Streets of Laredo sits unopened, but I dreamt of dusty horses as an appetizer. I want to paint everything lately. I would paint this trailer for Lars and the Real Girl. There aren't a lot of movies that catch my eye, but this is one. Looks like there might be a few good scary ones coming up too. Paintings ------one moment.

Sunday, April 6

Why I Don't Miss T.V.

I've never really been a huge t.v. watcher, mostly I just binged out on Top Model marathons when nobody was looking. But, now I just have super mario brothers and a dvd player which mostly plays music. ~Someone just honked at me, driving by my apartment. ~ Traffic on wet pavement is soothing, possibly more so than the ocean, or at least equally so. Anyway, a few surreal moments from last night. Does the word "surreal" seem passe to you? What about the word, "passe?"

~I'm higher than you. No, I'm higher. I'm a geek, I'm a spaz, I'm a retard. I'm a freak, I'm a spaz, and I'm higher than you. Swing racing. Cherry blossoms sprinkling down between the raindrops. Flash to yesterday and he's wielding jagged glass and humping door-jams. He'll be in juvie next week, but they're full now. It's a concrete hotel, you have to have a reservation most of the time, at least a week or two out.

~Selecting condoms with random guy staff, for a 15 year old, who's claiming to be a neo-nazi, but his jet black eyebrow stubble is starting to poke back through, and "no, you can't have a razor." Would you believe that we have a huge bag of condoms and lube behind the fax machine?

~Recovering over 2am biscuits and gravy, asked the waitress about the "hot link", as opposed to the sausage links and sausage patty. "Oh, that's just something on the menu, we don't actually have that." Jesus was playing pull-tabs, my first time there was in 94. I'm fond of the people at the table, fleeting, yet comforting.

Friday, April 4

Nothingness Shuffle

That's my goal today, my day off, the goal of nothingness. Went on a drive in the sunny rain, perfect. Now, for more nothingness, a silly survey that I like because I'm listening to forgotten music. This came from redmolly, who I found on Ashley's page, and who I tried to link to, but I feebed out, and couldn't handle it for some reason.

So, if you want to play too, do this.

1. put your music player on shuffle
2. press forward with each question
3. use the song title as the answer to the question

"I'll fly Away" Allison Krauss & Gillian Welch - From the Oh Brother Where art Thou soundtrack - And I flew on a drive, sure.

"Friday, I'm in Love" The Cure - Pretty funny that it's friday, no?

"Steel Stars" Pan American - Hmm, sounds pretty.

"Let's Lynch the Landlord" Dead Kennedys - yes, yes, yes

"Unconsciously Screaming" The Flaming Lips - I love picturing strangers unconsciously screaming as they pass me on the street.

"The Land of the Gun" Immortal Technique

"The Fly" Dr. Dre - These answers are funny. And personal even.

"Magic Window" Boards of Canada

"Bag Full of Thoughts" The Flaming Lips

"99 Problems" Ice-T - I swear, I'm not editing any of this.

"Teddy Roosevelt's Guns" Silver Mt. Zion - I'm good at what I'm interested in, but I know zip about Teddy Roosevelt.

"My Own Planet" The Flaming Lips - Hell yes, I like this answer. I'm also seeing that my itunes shuffle with over 10,000 songs is heavily slanted towards The Flaming Lips. Who can blame it, what's next?

"It's Gonna Rain" Violent Femmes - Pretty much a guarantee when your birthday is in under Northwest Autumn skies.

"If Everybody Looked the Same" Vertigo - Sweet, rave on me.

Holy Moly - Could it get better than this? ------"Go Down Emanuel Road" Harry Belafonte - I think we were born together, or something along those lines.

"Frohgemut" Roedelius - I now know how to put my feelings into words.

"Run To The Hills" Iron Maiden

"Simple Things" - Zero 7 - Tis a melancholy song.

"Tears of a Clown" - Andre Nickatina - Not so off, really. Either this or the English Beat version would work.

"Cop Killer" Body Count and Ice T - Tonight we get even.

For me, for you? What does this mean? - "Elevate Myself" Granddaddy - more music I forgot about though

"Dark Hollow" Grateful Dead - sounds grim, but it's a pretty pep me up song actually

"Log of the Deadwood" - The Orb

"Garbage Man" - The Cramps - Sure - I could dance to this.

"Welcome to Atlanta" Outkast - I don't want to go to Atlanta.

"Teardrop Explodes" - Log Cabin - Or it might be the other way around. I can't tell, it's a mystery track.

"Dead" Pixies - What subject? That makes no sense. But, I'm enjoying my itunes shuffling. Maybe this survey was put out by the marketing department at itunes HQ. Well, if so, they win. For now I shall paint and continue enjoying the surprise of the shuffle.

Sunday, March 30

Stars, Not Maps

I like this secret. Whether it's we, you, or me, really, no map is necessary. If I had one, I'd miss my next bus while looking for the "you are here" arrow and trying to determine the appropriate destination and it's exact mileage.

Recent spaces that I never would have seen on a map:

~The foreign country that is my mailbox holding Pearly's maiden mail. But wait, I've been to foreign countries, and this seems vaguely familiar.

~Surly gang member, giggling over easter egg dyes. "Do we get to hunt for them too?!?" You bet.

~Explaining to a new crowd how my ex-husband's nephew became one of my best friends. His people, "you're bringing your divorced aunt to the bar?"

~Fielding the question, "Could I have your phone number, so I can ask you out sometime?" Censoring my initial response of, "What? Why are you asking me that? What the hell?"

~Speaking such sentiments somewhat publicly.

Tuesday, March 25

Five Gallons of Ham

I'm making 24 hour Ham Hock Soup, right this second. At least, I think that giant bone is a hock. I simmered the bone and meat with navy beans, celery, onion, and spices for the last eight hours at work. The catch is that it is illegal to put any food in the work fridge that is not in a sealed plastic container, and this concoction sits in a five gallon steel vat. So, I sloshed it home where it will sit in my fridge until tomorrow. I shall shlep it back again for tomorrow night's dinner. Don't you think it would be more sanitary just to leave it at work untouched and unshlepped in the vat? I do. I love how delicious it tastes while looking so vomitish in the shiny vat.

Sunday, March 23

Un-Stick Thyself

~ Toss cave-dwelling paranoia, and make blog public. Done. Bring on the freaks.

~ Bitch out the landlord, touting legal rights and basic respect. Done. Weirdly effective. My shit is fixed with an apology and a smile. Guilt level is surprisingly low.

~ Transform two unfinished baby quilts into a full size, fuck-all, awesome quilt for myself. Sorry, potential recipients. Your time will come.

~ Finish boring paper and name change crap. Like this week. Serious.

~ Bake a ham. An Easter Ham, with tators, pie, the works. In two hours. I've never baked a ham before. Seems that you take it out of the wrapper and put it in the oven. I thought it would be more intense, oh well.

~ Hunt for eggs in the rain. I took this photo from my back door. I'll bring my mudruckers.

~ Technically, I'm not really stuck. I'm just impatient and Transition has worn out it's welcome.

Tuesday, March 18

Where I am, I am, was and will be

Thing for to dig food - spoon - is where I am - I'm not normally a simpson's quoter, but that one applies here. ------->with sticky tape, but stuck on your jeans first, so it's not overly sticky as to pull of bits of the substrate. Process needs patience, is patience, and creates patience. Process vs. content, process vs. product, processssssss is infinite and active, product is done and still. Content is noisy and muddled, process is quiet and clear.

Thursday, March 13

Really Rosie Loves Yarnwhore

Wednesday, March 12

Filler Blogging

Too long since the last post. That chicken was scrumptious, and the carcass became chicken soup with rice, which always makes me sing Really Rosie to myself. Is this all I have to say?


Sunday, March 9

Always an Upside

I just hopped a mini-jig when I remembered that I get to cook two whole chickens today. Whole, with the head and innards being replaced by yummy spices.

Spit Ball

It's 1:43, when it should be 12:43, but I've already complained about that, and I need to accept what I can not change. My body is satisfyingly sore from hard-core basketball last night. For nearly 2 hours straight, my coworker and I took on 3 wily boys who are just a wee bit better than us on the court. I want to say that she or I made at least one basket, but no, we did not, in 2 hours. However, we did successfully keep these boys out of the house, out of each other's faces, and thoroughly entertained until it was time for bed. One thing that, no, two things that trip me out about basketball. First, damn, there is a lot of contact. How do you play with no contact? How do I play without getting hurt as much? Second, why does basketball make so much spit?

In other non-spit related news, this has been a crazy week. My name is now officially restored, my work has been politically insane, and I had an intense conversation that seals the rightness of everything happening now. I even may go public with my blog here. I don't feel the need to hide as much as I did. Though I still wish it was an hour earlier like it's supposed to be.

Missing Hour

It's not fair that it's about to be 3 am instead of 2 am. I mean, I have an ice cream sandwich, and that helps, but, it still gets me down. Every year, both the falling and the springing, I resent it, and it was one of the few plusses of Arizona living. The longer days are handy, I suppose, but it all feels so contrived, because it is, duh, but it just gets me bogged down in the concept of time, and dammit, there it goes now, it's 3 am. It bugs me that my computer and cell phone know this. It even bugs me that it bugs me, but it bugs me and I can't help it. That hour was just stolen, like I slipped unconscious for 60 minutes. But, what a sturdy ice cream sandwich that didn't melt while I was absent.

Monday, March 3

The Fish Knows

Fishy, fishy, do you know it's bait? Do you see the juicy blowfly bobbing just above and feel a twinge in your fishgut? Do you tell yourself that the metallic glint on the edge is not a hook, but just an exceptionally shiny, silver wing? You skirt the familiar pylons and I hear the barnacles laughing.

Saturday, March 1

Confused Villagers

First, there are a few typos I always make. One is favorites. I always write favorities, which sound like the name of a delicious cereal.

But, to the point, these respectable English villagers in The Upfold Witch are reminding me of those in Sarum, by Edward Rutherford. Spooky covers draw me, and when they hold a thousand pages of historical fiction inside, I'm sold. His book, London, is also great, but is so similar, it's almost interchangeable and therefore annoying.

Bring on the book suggestions. I'm open. I may have to plug Amy's mom next time too, unless that would be inappropriate.

Tuesday, February 26

Creepy Covers

More of the same, because I like it. Ashley loaned me Shadow Child, by Joseph Citro, but it has an ultra spooky cover that only gives a small hint of the evil within. I dreamt the Shadow Children were plaguing this respectable English Village. It was the perfect scary dream, like a movie that I was controlling. I can't control my dreams often, but when I can, it is intense. Can anyone else here do that?

And then, The Alienist, by Caleb Carr. Whoo. This is dark, historical, and plain nasty in parts. It's been long enough, that I'm almost ready to read it again. Well written horror/mystery is hard to find. His second book, Angel of Darkness is also satisfying, but from there he goes sci-fi and loses me.

Why do I feel like sitting here and talking about books all day? Who cares, moving on. Sci-fi. I don't like it unless its a post-apocalyptic desolation story, like The Postman, by David Brin, or The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. The Road has a slick cover too. Oprah made this book trendy, but at least I found it before she slapped on her sticker. I also like the occasional alien story, like Stranger in a Strange Land, but I don't want to hear about robots, fantastical creatures, or inter-galactic politics. Bo-Ring.

Monday, February 25

Monday Covers

I choose books for their covers, you bet. It's why I picked up the Alienist. If I don't like a cover, I will tape something over it while I read. I try not to look at author's photos either, they all look like realtors, and they gum up the voices. Here's my latest choice, and so far, it oozes creepy-ness from every dusty, yellow page. The tagline reads: Insane Evil in a Respectable Engish Village.

I'm reading it now, in a blanket and pajamas, enjoying a surprise morning off. To me, it is morning, for you, that is your deal.

Monday, February 18

Color Humor

I snort out loud when this cartoon pops into my head. I do. I was standing in Michael's the other day in the paint section, and I uncontrollably snorted and sputtered, then squeaked in my effort to contain myself.

Saturday, February 16

Green Wheels

Ha ha on me, my new car matches my blog. Green is meant to be. It is not a buick, it is not a gramma car, and it is all in my name. Swank. Well, mine and the bank's name, and it's new, as in new to me, but you get my drift. I have new wheels and they are green.

Wednesday, February 13

Chico Enrico Suavee

I was cleaning out my iphoto library and I found a forgotten photo of my crazy dog. In kc, when he was still scrawny. I wonder if I'll still be pushing photos of this dog when I'm 85.

Wire Brush

I had almost as much fun making this tool as I did using it. It took about an hour, several failed attempts and lots of blood. These bristles are sharp.


I love scratchboard, but I'm stuck for the right tool. I did these with a mini swiss army knife, which was perfect, but went dull. Hey, I could sharpen it. With a stone maybe. Hmm. That didn't really occur to me before. I've tried scribes, exactos, all sorts of blade shapes, and nothing is working for me like the swiss army knife.

Betsy - The mistyness is just from bad photos. The backgrounds are actually jet black. I wish I could hold a camera still. The smoke on the top one is from a wire brush I made. I combined a fisher price mini hammer and bristles from one of my welding brushes. You can also make groovy mist with steel wool. I also thought a lot about those birds, and they seem to be returning on the scene, just without the hat and boots.

Monday, February 11

Liquid Words

Between glowing O-Town
No ever equations

Iridescent tissue not, definitely not,

How guts teeter involuntary
DD stolen.


Work was fun tonight, I love, love, love, painting and watching other people paint. I don't care what they're painting, I like watching house painters, and even the machines that paint dotted lines in the street. It's my something shiny, it's magic.

Sunday, February 10

Between Books

Finishing a good book is like putting your best friend on a train, not knowing the next time you'll meet. Finishing Lonesome Dove is like putting that friend on a wagon train, knowing that you'd better cherish that visit forever, because it will be the last time you meet in this lifetime. Sappy and dramatic? You bet. I almost get physically depressed when I finish a powerful book, and I even resent the next one trying to take its place. In fact, missing Lonesome Dove makes me miss Chico, which makes me feel all girly and sad. I need a break in between books to give the next one a fighting chance. Do I jump into my cheezy Michael Crichton book for cheap rebound filler, or do I seek out The Streets of Laredo in hopes that it will deliver the same punch as the Dove? Or perhaps I just do cryptograms for a while. There are a lot of betweens happening now.

Thursday, February 7

Glowing Blue Blooms

Damn if I can't hold a camera still even for a second. But, the color is near dead on. These interference paints shift colors in different angles and light, and they glow in the moonlight. Except, I can't get this post to stack right.

Edit - Yarnwhore, you can totally find these at Coldsnow. They are Golden Interference colors. This is the same painting in the light and in the dark. The paints flip to their complement in the light. They are nearly invisible by themselves on white background and pop on dark backgrounds.

golden paints

Friday, February 1


It's been a long time since my "Crackhole Killed My Dog" post, and since then, this town has imporved greatly. I'll have to try and find that rant, I'm sure it's in my computer somewhere.

~I like the typo of "imporved." It sounds like as much as I want something improved, the reality is that it is in fact, imporved, instead.

I love psycho-babble. I think this blog keeps me a bit more honest, because my words are in print to reflect on later. So, in print: I think I will be in this town a while longer.

The pile of flow-charts, budget projections, and lists of options, seem to point this way. More specifically, to maintain my current 2 jobs and add one more, which only will increase my work week by 5-10 hours, and will help me save moving costs. Blah, blah, blah, I'll find out next week after talking to my boss, if this third deal can be added most quickly.

So. If I'm going to stay here for a bit, I need to create curtains, and see about fixing my levelors so that they actually levelate out of cave setting. Like those 80's make-up mirrors. Office, home, natural and cave. Whoever invented that did not live in Olympia.

Wednesday, January 30

No Crack Tonight

Just painting and Johnny Cash. There are nights when I don't have to smoke crack to do my job, and tonight was one. So was last night. Apparently, the house has been mellow for the last five days, and if I recall correctly, last tuesday night was a breeze too.

The last three weeks were intensely chaotic and volatile, which forced basic survival mode of separating the kids needing protection/comfort from the kids feeding into the chaos by amping their aggression as much as possible. Think prison-style mob mentality in a ranch house for teens. Until things got so bad, that I got hit in the face. At that moment, a kid down the hall abrubtly stopped his yelling at another kid, and the hallway grew silent. Well, except for Laundry Bucket Banger's persistent warcry. After his arrest, relief spread over the group, and they gradually let down their guard across the board. But, it wasn't just relief. There was a pinch of empathy mixed in, which is always what I'm going for, and what is often, the most lacking. Everyone knew that LBB was not a normal kid, and the deliberateness of his actions are always in question. However, they had taken 3 weeks of it, plus another kid who requires a whole other essay and several more crack vials, and they were done, hating each other and the staff even more. Then, that pop in the face turned it all around, and it's scary how easily that could have swung the other way. As much as I hated seeing him arrested, I know it was the best thing. The other kids who'd been pissed at me for whatever reason, were now thanking me for "putting in my time," and basically doing whatever I asked. And since I asked that we paint, they couldn't grumble too much. I worked the next day, we did more painting, and they were near silent, almost too much so as they did every chore without being asked. They even promptly turned off the t.v. at 9pm. They also hardly bickered between each other at all. I took the following day off, wednesday, and got a cold, which kept me out until Monday, yesterday. When I arrived for my shift last night, the walls were covered in paintings, and one of my angriest kids greeted me with, "About time you're back, we thought you bailed. Check this out, I can paint!" And Dude, this kid can really paint, and he only started last Tuesday.

Tuesday, January 29

Ever Attentive Eight

1. What makes you decide to be with the person you’re with? A mutual belief that we are meant to share this particular time and space.

2. What made you decide to do the work you do? I'm the Freak Whisperer. I've been doing it forever, I'm just getting paid now.

3. What type of discussion brings out the most passion in you? Prejudice towards the freaks I whisper to, and the systems that expel them and keep them freaky.

4. If you could change three things about your life instantly by snapping your fingers, what would you wish for before the big snap? That I'd have the sense not to snap. I saw that Twilight Zone, and I know the moral to this story.

5. What two qualities do you possess that you would never, ever change? The constant need to paint, draw, or create any kind of output. Without it, I'd be bored and so would my walls. What else? The ability to pinch people and pick up objects with my toes.

6. When you come across something you want to change in your life, what’s the first step? To say, Oh Hell, because change is a pain in the ass. Beyond that, make a list, or 5 if it's a big change.

7. At what moment in your day are you most at peace? This time of not-so-morning when I'm drinking coffee and preparing for the day. Though, there is enough anticipation of the day's unknown, that it might not be so peaceful. I suppose then it's more honest to say I'm at the most peace in the thick of the work day, when I'm part of a productive and therefore peaceful group of people.


Just because someone is meant to be, doesn't mean they are meant to be who you thought they were, or should be. My meaning plus your meaning, often equals an entirely unexpected meaning that reduces our original meanings to mere hopes and projections.

Sunday, January 27

Iridescent Lung Dust

My four days off flew away, and left me in a cloud of dust. I slept, painted, read Lonesome Dove, (a good book really can solve most of your problems), painted, slept, read more, and on and on for the last few days, and it was wonderful. Did some baking too. I might get one more day off tomorrow, but that is still undetermined. If so, I'll try to get some mario world done. It doesn't take much to make me all better.


The last three books I've loved, were all borrowed from different people.

I misplaced myself at a strange girl's house the other night, but then found A Stranger in A Strange Land on the shelf, and all was right again.

Transitions are chaotic and drawn-out, that's why they make toddlers cry.


Wednesday, January 23

Tissue Soup

I just dropped my snotty tissue into my chunky soup and fished it out with my spoon, and it is still tasty. The soup, not the tissue, though it's probably not that untasty all coated with beefy soup. I'm smart enough to know when I need a day off, so today, I'm getting paid to not be at work. Sweet. This vacation time thing is a new concept for me. Bummer is that the germs in my body heard about my freed-up schedule and attacked me in my sleep, so now I'm crusty and whiny, and my face hurts. And, no-one, not one person, is willing to retort with "well, it's killing me," and it really bums me out. What's the point of having your face hurt if nobody is willing to take up their end of the joke? Funny thing is that I had totally forgotten that tonight was supposed to be the fun reward night. I was supposed to go with one other staff and 3 kids to a Sonics game and now I will miss out. Why am I deleting things? As I was saying,, a basketball game sounds awful this evening, when all I want to do is wrap up in a sarape and read Lonesome Dove.

Tuesday, January 22

Not So Uplifting

This post needs several disclaimers.

1. My latest painting is vivid and beautiful, and it comforts me.
2. I really do love my job and there are many fun and easy shifts.
3. I still question the purpose of this blog. It may just be to hear myself talk, and that's ok.
4. I'm aware that I can double-think myself into oblivion, and my awareness of that spits me through an even thicker tunnel of double-thinkery that dumps me back into my painting room and then I'm ok.
5. I just annoyed myself by sounding like the being john malko-whatever movie, and now I'm seriously digressing.
6. What I like about being single is that I can work until midnight. I like it that I can come home and do whatever I want. I don't like that when I do want to talk, there is nobody here. If I didn't work until midnight, I could rendezvous with other people who go to sleep at a reasonable hour. But, then I'd miss out on the action of the swing shift.
7. On to the action, and finally to the main topic of the email.
8. Almost. Part of my funk tonight is being annoyed all over again about a bunch of crap I just deleted because I can't go that far in a blog.


It was a terrible work weekend. Laundry Bucket Banger freaked out all weekend long, as opposed to once every day or so for a few minutes. He got arrested a few times for trashing the house, and each time spent a few hours in the hospital before returning to us. I almost wrote a post like this on saturday night when he disappeared for 8 hours and we all worried like crazy. Another disclaimer, this kid is awesome most of the time and one of my favorites. He really needs a place more equipped for him, but there isn't one. Anyway, he flipped again tonight and I ended up in between him and a pregnant girl calling him a fucking retard. Thanks, girly, that's helpful. So, she locks herself in the bathroom while he tries to kick down the door, and in the fray, I got hit in the face. It's not bruise-worthy, just a sore nose, and to the point, finally, yes, of this story is that he went to jail for assault. For assaulting me, and now I'll have to go to court and testify, and the whole thing was stupid, and he shouldn't have been in our house anyway with volatile pregnant girls and random heavy objects strewn about. So, it sucks and I feel guilty because I didn't want him to go to jail and I had to be the one who decided on the spot whether or not to press charges. The problem was that he was still freaking out and unsafe to the other kids, and the mental health people wouldn't take him. So, the safest place for him seemed to be juvie and that is fucked up. So, cheers to my blog, I feel just a hair better now.

Thursday, January 17

Definitely Morning

.........and set the grass on fire?

Wednesday, January 16

Not so morning

Late night painting makes foggy mornings. Purple-ish/blue-ish tree fog. Who put leaves on my tree?

Sunday, January 13


Freshly Realigned, clicked into sync. And look!

Eagle vs. Shark

And then look again at the trailer link. I couldn't link it straight there, because I'm a computer dork. And not the kind you call for help, either. But, seriously look.

Tuesday, January 8

How could I forget?

Happy Birthday, David Bowie,

I'm sorry we couldn't be together today. I hope you got my messages, cards, and offers of undying affection and sexual favors. Don't worry, I was able to read between the lines of your restraining orders and threats of prosecution, and I know you'll always love me too. If there is an afterlife, I'll wait for you there, and you can croon to me in your ghostly fashion. Although since you're my parents' age, you'll probably get there first, so you just hold on and I'll be there after I do a few more things here first. In the meantime, I have your posters, records, books, and sparkly buttons to keep me snug at night.

Love forever,

Your only fan that truly matters, Pearly.


Overthinking, doublethinking, or just listening? Whose guts? My guts. Not my supervisor's, friends' or others' guts. My initial guts said don't be wooed by money and a quick ticket to Seattle. I tried to chalk up my guts to fears, but I'm not fearful. My head is clear and screaming at me to listen. I don't really want this job, and I realize I'm more fearful of getting it than not. Right town, right pay, but I'm pretty sure it's the wrong job. So, I have fancy new interview clothes for the interview on Friday. I shall go through the motions wile I become sure of my path, partly for practice, partly just in case it is the right job. But, I feel like I'm wasting their time. Shower now, then last night's dream pondering. Though I don't feel much need to ponder it, it's pretty clear. I might have to paint it though, because visually, it was intense.

Friday, January 4

Teeter-totters always were my favorite

A friend told me tonight that my life is really intense. It's true, and seems it always has been. The times when I've not been very happy are the few times when life is calm, (calm or placid?), or when there is only one issue to focus on. Is this unhealthy or is this just me? If nobody manned the emergency rooms, we'd be screwed, right? Same with teen shelters, which feels very ER'ish a lot of the time. Legally speaking, we fall into the ER status of a "break as needed" facility, with the expectation of being able to go non-stop for 8-12 hours. This has never been a problem for me, though I do crash hard at the end of the week. My relationships outside of work have nearly equal intensity, and that is where I'm pondering the proper balance. Someone too calm doesn't want to hear about my job or gets worried about me, which makes me feel antsy and suffocated. Someone too intense throws off my balance, and my life becomes chaotic. I'm now applying for a potentially more chaotic job, and though I'm intimidated, I want it badly, and know I'll rock it if I get the chance. But, who will want to hear about it? More and more, I like the idea of a long distance intense relationship. Maintain the intensity in short bursts at a 60 mile long arm's length, assuming this is an option. Otherwise, I'll split my focus between the job and a dog, and resolve not to date my clients, figuratively speaking of course. Maybe that's the imbalance right now, I am presently dogless. But, you can't force these things. The right dog will arrive at the right time. Ideally, I'll get this job, find the right home, and on my walk home from the local coffee shop, some mangy creature will tentatively approach. Once I've determined that it is indeed a canine and not about to attack, then I'll invite it back to my place for something squeaky and a bite to eat. The clicking of its nails on my hard wood floors will echo my universe clicking into sync.

Tuesday, January 1

Involuntary Red Rover

How exciiiting! Can you say that like Robert Downey Jr does in Hugo Pool? I can. I never knew that mauve was the first invented color, or that Yarnwhore has a blog, or that Tracie got an easel and paints. Can I really be this enlightened just since becoming bloggy again? And without the "friend" politics of myspace even. And I hate Fucking Tom! Well, I should stop then. Sorry, bad joke, but he really grated on me.

Anyway, work is too fresh to regurgitate. Staying up until midnight with the yout's may have been a mistake, but really all was fine until 11:50. Suddenly, the anticipation of counting backwards from ten, for a reason other than someone being in trouble, fragmented a few individual's brains into shards of seizuring pinballs. Knitting needles, laundry bucket banging, and a third, most helpful child, informing me that I'm really not helping the situation by refusing to let them watch Tremors. That was my mistake. Not denying Tremors, (admittedly, a damn fine movie, but too much weaponry for this group), but turning to respond to Junior Staff with my arm outstretched across a doorway. Laundry Bucket Banger must have mistaken my get lost command to JS as the nostalgic, masochistic cry of "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Laundry Bucket Banger Right Over." And over he flew. Damn, that game is just as painful as it always was.

Apparently, regurgitation is not so much of a problem.

But, for those of you who avoid these situations and think I'm on crack, let's end with the positives. After all, it is a new year, and 2008 equals 10, which equals 1, which means we're all lucky. Before the demons were released, pictionary was played, vibrant collaborative paintings were created, fisher price toys had their moment in the sun, and What Dreams May Come made the yout's declare, "Whoa, Dude, that's intense." And it was. Happy New Year.