disclaimer or something

A mummy-hand holding, (former) biker gang affiliating, hippie influenced semi crunchy granola mom's ramblings and reminisings on an off-kilter life

Monday, April 14, 2014

popular parts

My umm...lady parts are popular this week. So I couldnt find my sole paor of pajama bottoms, a common tragedy, and I had a feeling they were in my husband's office (my dresser drawers are in there). I was in a shirt and nothing else, running around in a frantic search when I dash into his officce. He's on the phone and I say "ummyoure not on skype are you, cause I'm missing pants". Except, see, I said it kinda out loud. As in, whatever CEO he was talking to heard me. Luckily he wasn't on skype. Then today I am squatting down cleaning stuff and somehow lose my balance squatting and fall. Allarently a metal folding chair is within my falling reach. The metal leg lands right on my lady parts. I fell full-force onto the metal pole leg. I have a pitch black swollen bruise and I walk bow-legged due to the pain. Its a total freak accident only I would get into.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

broken fences broken lives

I recently travelled through El Paso, Texas, a town that reminds me of Vegas without the casinos. Its dusty, full of ghetto strip malls and broken promises. But...it is more than that. A quick look into the city's history tells me the borders of New Mexico, Texas, and Mexico have changed boundaries many times. As I looked at the brightly lit border fence from my hotel window, scaring the landscape like the Great Wall, I couldn't help but think how the citizens of Ciudad Juarez, just feet away, must feel. To look at a place I might find less than appealing as a beacon of hope, a place with less violence and poverty. Separated by a tightly guarded and ugly wall. Families separated, like the Berlin Wall, all because eugenicists wanted to eradicate the darker, feeble minded stock from the United States.

We left El Paso and entered the desolate expanse of West Texas, almost as empty as Alaska....no gas for a hundred miles. Coyotes (people, not canines) help illegal persons cross the border and often leave them to die, the elements and vast expanses taking their lives.

We gassed up in Fort Hancock, a homeless-looking man asked if we would kindly buy him something to eat. I was fascinated by the changing borders of the area, the culture (something like 75% of El Paso people speak Spanish as their primary language) and the history, that I had googled the few outposts of West Texas. I found out that Fort Hancock featured a gap in the border fence, often unmanned, and before the border patrol road block. I guess it was kind of an unwritten acceptance to allow a piece of open border and exchange. Somehow, the violence of Juarez rarely spilled the border, the open fence being kind of a peaceful spot, considering. I then found out the Mexican towns nearest Fort Hancock were far more deadly than Juarez; in one month in 2010, the area (with about 18,000 people) had 45 recorded murders. The scene looked just like No Country for Old Men, but the man didn't seem quite as scary.

The man asking for a meal really strikes me as the poster child for the entire situation. If a picture could speak a thousand words....he wears a military green trenchcoat, wrinkled and dusty. He huddles inside it, the thin, worn fabric not much against the howlin dust storm and near freezing temperatures. His pants are not a discernable color, his boots worn. I can't tell if he is hispanic or white; he looks like a photo from the Dust Bowl or from the coal mining children, full of blemishes and days old dirt. His wrinkles cut deep, his skin leathery. His accent is a mesh of Mexican and American, like I often hear in California. He stands out yet blends into the dusty worn down buildings, cracked asphalt, scraggly trees and tumbleweeds bending in the wind. This is a rough yet poetic time and place. This man is destitute, somehow victim of the changing borders, open and closed fences, policy, corruption, hope, dreams, and violence that plays a unique tune for the area. I don't know his story, but yet it still resonates with me, so much that I am wanting to paint the scene Isaw, to forever etch his story, whatever it is, in history. So here is my sketch, it is a mereetch) to say, you, whoever you are, are important. Your struggles are real and unique yet far too common. I don't know the solution, or even the story, but I remember you. 

< a href="http://yeahwrite.me/challenge-155/"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/challenge155.png"></a>

Sunday, March 23, 2014

steer, deer, and....

So my husband had to travel to Texas and last minute, he says, hey wanna go? Last minute as in, the kids' bedtime is in 8 hours,dog boarding is an hour away and closes in 5 hours, and the need shots first, and oh we need a rental car because what noise did ours just make, and the kids' mobile video system just broke and we need dinner and the laundry is dirty and omg breathe. We rather uneventfully leave and traverse a good portion of the desert southwest, and lay our heads to rest in El Paso, Texas at mearly midnight. I barely sleep, hyped up from the drive, plus my usual insomnia and an unfound fear I'm going to get shot because are those huge ball park type lights within ball throwing distance the border with beyond super deadly Ciuidad Juarez? Yes! Anyways...I wake after maybe two hours sleep, put my son's shoes on backwards, my moby on backwards, and my throat is on fire from all the dust storms. Yee haw. Welcome to El Paso, where I feel like I'm hungover and in Vegas. Really, it reminds me of Vegas minus you know, Vegas...slot machines and stuff. To quote the guy we met in the elevator, supernatural. We trek across Texas, prettier than I would expect (but pretty doesn't come to mind) and even more sparsely populated than expected. We encounter a border patrol stop, and unlike California where they show signs of illegal families running across the freeway lanes cause umm..that's probably realistic (I've never even had to slow in the patrol crossing) here they mean business, everyone stops and their car gets a once around by a dog who, I must giggle, excitedly snifffed the rear of every car. Too many hours later we end up in Fredericksburg, its like shangrila, like a step back into a 1950s quaint downtown with a main street and clean, quaint brick buildings...meets...Germamy...meets the Portlandia show. There are bier hauses all around. It really had that quaint main street americana feeling. Outside of it, Texas Hill Country abounds. I get far too excited over horses and cows, sheep, goats, ostriches, peach orchards and omg is that a wildflower farm? Full of....bluebonnets, my favorite flower? And look, a herd of wild deer. And a deer processing shack (no bambis were harmed in the herd I saw). And wait? Tuscany of Texas? Wineries! Art galleries! Grass Fed beef, quaint cafes, fresh peach pies, farmers markets, deer hunting stores, and mansions on acreage. Seriously where else on earth can you sipfine wine, eat an organic burger, browse an art gallery, hunt and gut a deer, and pick wildflowers all in one block? This place is awesome! And housing and food and gas and everything is chesper! I'm convinced there's a catch. After midnighg the gremlin come out. Or zombies.no,zombies with pet gremlims.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014


My son will revert to, say, age one when he is upset...he ends up forgetting all his words and signs and just cries. So yesterday, when I went into the other room real quick and heard a thud and an "ouch" from the living room, I knew it meant trouble. I came to find my sonn had fallen off the couch, normally something not deserving of an "ouch". I kissed him and snuggled up to him and whispered "shh its ok" but all he could do was cry...and say "ouch". As stated, communicating during crisis doesn't happen with him so "ouch" spoke volumes. He held his left arm and balwed, refusing to let us near it. I tried turning on tv, fedding him ice cream, giving him his favorite trains to get his mind off the pain as sometimes he gets "stuck" and needs distracting. It didn't work. The three year old didn't want ice cream. Icce cream! This meant trouble. I went to get my shoes on to go to the hospital and....he fell asleep on the couch, cradling his arm. I woke him about a half hour later, due to concern for his arm. He awoke bawling and screaming "ouch" again. We got him in the car, buckling him in meant extra hollering as I had to move the poor guy's arm. Each turn of the car meant a yelp. 45 minutes later, we got to urgent care (I reserve the ER for life-threatening or middle of the night stuff). He started to calm a bit, distracted by other toddlers and babies in the waiting room. But I knew he was suffering, as he refused to eat his goldfish crackers and refused to touch his trains. He kept his arm cradled and if I even went near it, he freaked. The slightest movement sent him yelping, and his happier moments were interrupted with whimpers of "ouch". 1.5 hours later, we finally went into a little room where we waited another ten minutes or so. The doctor touched his arm (more crying) and my son refused to tell anyone if it iwas his hand, arm, or elbow that hurt. The dr ordered xrays just in case, and brought in codeine so he'd be able to manipulate the arm for xrays. We waited another 45 Min and then suffered through xrays. I had to move his arm and twist it as he screeched in pain, thrashing, telling me "doh!" (No!). I felt so awful, causing him more pain, but I had to do it. Then we went back into the little room for a half hour, my son again having some calm moments and some moments of screaming in pain. The dr came in and....no breaks, chips, or fractures....his elbow was dislocated in a way that caused pain in the forearm and wrist. A dislocated elbow! Lemme repeat...dislocated elbow! Totally ouch-worthy! The dr then told me to hold my son up against me tightly and I grimaced in anticipation of what I knew was to come...popping his arm into place. The dr grabbed his arm (scream!) And yank! Pop! I felt a shudder ripple through his body and....the dr said "move your bad arm, buddy". He waved with his good arm. I demonstrate movin both arms. He moves his bad arm's thumb almost inperceptively. Then the fingers. The hand. The arm ever so slightly.... and the dr then taight me how to (shudder) pop his bone back in place, as (shudder) once his elbow dislocates, its much more likely to happen again. We drove home, my son finally suckin his thumb on his "bad arm", proving he was healed and doing much better. Kid injuries suck.

Friday, March 14, 2014

brain overload

Excuse my typos and crappy formatting on my nook. Once I find a cheap desk, I get an old laptop and bak! I can blog again, print things, download pictures..... Anyways. The point of this post is brain overload. Recently....I've been depressed. Yup. There. I admitted a huge secret upon the world. Its genetic, with both parents and other relatives afflicted. Isn't depression fun? Not! I ended up hav no motivation at all. For anything. Not even blogging. But I'm seein a counselor, praying, trying to get through it. I had a breakthrough. I was trying to find what makes me happy, what makes me motivated, and trying to fin a job.I thought of making children's books. I still may, little handmade onces to seel on etsy and at the street faire where my mom lives. But I have to be in the groove to do art. So my brain was swirling with cool art ideas, and then....my husband mentioned a time I was truly happy, envigorated, strong, etc. I was speaking to a school board, fighting to keep our site in existence. I had worked with disstrict officials and attorneys and was empowered by knowledge and validation and no one could get in my way. I realized a regular old teaching position might not be for me. And that I indeed often fail in those jobs and that omg that is ok. Not great or ideal but ok. Acceptable. Cause its..."me". That I do better in behind the doors, do whatever you want, challenge the status quo, leadership and brainiac positions. That's what makes me happy and successful. That staying home, depressed, might not be what's best for my kids even though I wish it were. So I'm looking for jobs I want. Not just any job but a job I want for my happiness. My depression is still there, trying to be all...depressing but I'm on a mission.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

let me in

We have a closet pole dowel thingy in the rut of the sliding door so that my 3 year old won't escape onto the deck, over 20 feet in the air. So today he demads outside time so we decide we will eat lunch outdoors, on the deck. He runs inside and plays with the pole, so we yell "stop" and he runs onto the porch. Unbeknownced (how do you spell that?) To us, the pole falls into place. We eat and we begin to get chilly as its 50 and windy and we are in tee-shirts. I go to open thedoo and SH1T!!, the poleis in place blocking the door from opening. We are 20-30 feet "in the air", as our deck is on the 2nd story on a steep slope. We can't open the sliding door. We are stuck...husband and wife. 3 year old, imfant, two dogs, and a cat..the other cat, mocking usfrom indoors. We panic and then get crafty...we could call the fire department but how will they get to us without breaking down out very thick front door? Hello, we need a front door. So we wedge a metal outdoor chair leg into the door frame-thank God for vinyl-metal combo doors. It takes a few tries to get it wedged in there. Then we grab forks and try and move the pole with thefork except when you hold a fork by your fingertips, leverage and strength kinda...suck. I consider callin the fire dept but again, broken front doors are bad and my cel works maybe 1% of the time in the boonies where I live. Finally we wedg the chair so that I can barely fit my slender wrist into the gap. We ban the fork into theright shape and finally, pop! I move the pole. It took like...a hakf hour or so of us, pets, babies...stuck on a little 6x6 deck high in the sky...but....we did it! Seriously, had that not worked we'd have been screwed!

Sunday, March 9, 2014


I kinda went missing from the world of blogging. Just simplt didn't feel "bloggy". Kinda a "meh" time of life and I did some soul searching and realized where I want to go in my career. I also have been busy with a crawling baby and fnAlly talking three year old. Grr I had more to say but it floated away from my mind.