Would you like some Cheese with that Whine?

I know I keep saying that I don't have a lot to write about, and in a lot of ways that's wrong. There's tons of random things rambling around up in my brain - but they just aren't that interesting. In fact, it's mostly just a lot of whining.

So every couple of days I've started a new post, trying to be witty or funny or just plain interesting - and all that comes out is more whining. Sometimes it's a matter of being tired of things, other times it's just all the things that I should be doing (but I'm not), most of the time it devolves into rambling about my job or problems with Scott. One way or the other, I get a few paragraphs into the post and find that it's really just not anything I would want to read and so why should I subject you to reading it?

I guess what it comes down to is that depression that I thought wasn't that big a deal (since I could get up and go to work and make dinner and all the basic stuff) really is a big deal. I've realized that I'm not doing lots of things that I used to love to do (writing, scrapbooking, talking to family, etc.) and instead I'm just sitting around watching tv or reading books. But if there is a silver lining to all of this it's that I'm actually fairly functional all things considered. Or maybe it's that I realize that I do miss doing all that stuff, so maybe I can make my way back to it.

Really it comes down to that fact that the little hole that I thought I was sitting in is actually a lot deeper than I thought and not only is it hard to get out of, but it's not very interesting.

Current Music: Escape Myself - Nouvelle Vague

It's a Wonder

Right, so I didn't blog yesterday. But I have a really good excuse - I had nothing to write. It occurred to me that part of the reason that I haven't been writing much is because I haven't had a heck of a lot to say. And sadly, that is still the case. But I said I was going to write, so I'm going to do it (even if it is a bit lame and regurgitated).

A couple of things I've been wondering...

I wonder why I love the shallow moments of being a girl - nail polish, lip gloss, new shoes, whatever!

I wonder when the wrinkles in my forehead decided to take up permanent residence.

I wonder why leftover dinner tastes so yummy late at night.

I wonder why my husband can't manage to put an empty soda can in the recycling bin.

I wonder why everyone here has to call it "pop" instead of "soda" like everyone else.

I wonder why the first day I look for airfares they're super cheap, but the day that I go to buy the tickets everything goes up $50 to $75.

I wonder why it takes so long to get an appointment with a new doctor, really are there that many people that need check ups?

I wonder why sitting in the sun has to be so bad for you when it feels so wonderful.

I wonder how I always manage to get one cat hair in my newly painted nails (all right that one isn't really a wonder as much as an irritation).

I wonder how much longer I can manage to duck my sister's calls.

I wonder if I'm the only person kind of freaked by the new Prius commercials.

I wonder what "Adult Hits" are on satellite radio - sounds kinda scary.

I wonder if they can do laser hair removal on the bikini line, 'cause I'm tired of waxing and shaving - not one of the brighter points of being a girl.

I wonder how bad the new G.I. Joe movie is going to be and why I really want to see it.

I wonder what I'm going to think of to write for tomorrow...

Current Music: Careless Whisper - Seether (I'm not much for remakes, but this one isn't too bad)

Tomorrow I Will Blog

Right, so last month's theme for NaBloPoMo was "routines" - and I had high hopes of getting back into the routine of blogging. I miss reading, I miss writing. But then there are so many things that I miss lately - lots of things that I haven't been doing that I should be.

The new theme for the month is "Tomorrow". So tomorrow I will blog (and go to the gym and clean my house). I'll do my best to do the NaBloPoMo thing, sometimes I just need a little self imposed guilt to get me back into the swing of things.

See you tomorrow...

Current Music: Killing the Blues - Robert Plant and Allison Krauss

Routines

The topic of NaBloPoMo for July is Routine. And (as always) I'm not saying that I'm for sure gonna do it, but it's a cool topic. So it's tempting...

Especially given the fact that my routines are about to be blown all to hell for the next week. That's right, it's vacation time! I'm headed home to Cali, for a whole week, no holiday drama (just the regular kind) and Scott free, which means that I'll be able to see my friends with out hearing him sigh heavily (you know that exasperated "I can't believe that I have to endure this again, you're sooooo gonna owe me for this" kind of sigh).

My plans as of this moment are to see a whole lot of friends and a bit of family. In between all that, I'm hoping to spend some time in my old stomping grounds - walk around Noe Valley (stop at my favorite jewelry shop), head out to Livermore and maybe do a little wine tasting, drive along the coast and sit by the ocean.

That's a biggie, sitting by the ocean. I REALLY need to do that. When anyone around here says "beach" they mean the lake - and that's nice, it's sandy and there's nice water. But to me it's just not the same, it's not a "real" beach. I need waves and salt air - that's a beach. And I'm not even sure why I feel such a compelling need to do it, but I do. I can't wait to dig my toes into the sand, sit down and breathe.

As for all the other stuff, I know I'm trying to squeeze a lot in, but I just really feel this need to reconnect with my family, my friends and my home. Ever since I decided to go, I almost cry I'm so anxious to get home (which really is strange, since usually I sort of dread going home). I'm not sure I really get it, but hopefully once I get there things will get clearer.

And we'll see about NaBloPoMo.

Current Music: Daydreamer - Adele

Crisis of Mid-Life Proportions - Bad to the Bone

And now back to the Mid-Life Crisis already in progress...

I've always been a pretty good kid, done what I was told, when I was told to do it. Curfews, yes ma'am. Cut classes, no sir. But I have to say that, for the most part, it was pretty easy to be good. Of course nothing comes that easily, there had to be a few sticking points, right?

When I was growing up I wasn't allowed to have my ears pierced. According to my Dad, only bad girls had their ears pierced (you know the kind that broke curfew and went around with guys on motorcycles - and probably hung out with Danny Zuko and Kenickie). So I waited, and waited. By my senior year I'd figured that I'd have to get it done when I moved out - clearly that was going to be the deal. But then, for my High School graduation, I was given a pair of amethyst earrings - a lovely gift from my Father of all people. Off to college I went, a bad girl with pierced ears.

But by then, everyone had multiple piercings. I wasn't bad enough, I needed more! I'd finally turned I'd turned 18 and boy did I make up for lost time - the final count six. Each piercing drove my Dad nuts, and by the time I got the navel piercing he was shocked, but he was getting so used to me showing up with new jewelry that he just said "well, at least it's not another hole in your head".

So imagine my Dad's reaction if I'd ever gotten a tattoo! That would have been a doozy! He would have assumed I was doomed to a life of Motorcycle gangs and teasing my hair. (Though, in his defense he did fairly well when my sister dropped trow at a family dinner and showed off her new tattoo. And in her defense she turned out pretty all right, tattoo and all.)

Poor reaction or not, I've always wanted a tattoo. Always. And not just because it would piss off my Dad, and not because my sister got one - I just dig them. You'd think that I'd have gotten one before now but the fact of the matter is that I've never really figured out what I wanted to have on my body for the rest of my life.

I didn't want to be that old lady with a Winnie the Pooh on her ass, and I really don't want anything that's your "traditional" tattoo (you know, anchor across the chest, heart with "Mom" in the middle). And I really didn't want to be the gal that got a tattoo in just the wrong spot and by the time she was 50 you couldn't read it anymore because it was so stretched out. So I've waited, figuring that if I ever happened to find the right thing, at the right time and figure the right place - then I would get a tattoo.

A month or so after my Dad died it occurred to me that the two things that define me the most and are most dear to me are my family and my California roots (did I ever tell you that I'm a fourth generation Californian? Yeah, me and Cali go way back.).

So keeping those two things in mind (and of course gravity and likely fat deposits), I finally go my tattoo!

It's a golden poppy, California's state flower - along with the word "Eureka!", the California state motto (which means "I have found it", and was reportedly said when they first found gold - which coincidentally was when my family moved to California).

I. Love. It.

As a friend of mine said "it's your soul", and she's right. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves, I now have my soul on my ankle.

It's been almost a month now and every morning I look at it and smile - thinking of California, of where and who I come from. Although every now and then I catch a glimpse of it and giggle, thinking "hey, I'm a bad girl with a tattoo!".

Way back when I first started writing this post, I hadn't gotten the tattoo. Everything was still sort of coming together. Plus I really was worried that some would consider it to be a mid-life crisis sort of thing, (Scott thinks that's what it is, in fact he asked a number of times if it was permanent). But really, with the exception of getting this tattoo in mid-life, there is nothing mid-life crisis about it. Just me finally figuring something out about myself, but maybe that's what a good mid-life crisis can do for you.

I'm sure my Dad is looking down on me from somewhere, shaking his head. But hopefully a little bit happy that I've finally figured out what my family history means to me (even if it means being such a bad girl).

Current Music: She Moves in Her Own Way - The Kooks


Oh, and for those of you playing at home, cojones. I'm guessing that I must have been thinking about how scared I was of the pain, which, as it turns out, really wasn't that bad!

The Trifecta

June is a usually a good month - well at least I used to think it was. Really, what's not to like? When we were young it was the beginning of warm weather and summer vacation, camp, sleeping in, goofing off with friends till the sunset then running home for dinner and then heading back out for more. I suppose getting older makes June a little less magical, more bridal and baby showers to go to or weddings attend, maybe having to deal with those irritating teens hanging out at the mall. But it's still the beginning of summer - even if we don't quite celebrate it the same.

When I lived in the Bay Area summer didn't really get into full swing till August, but June usually held those first few peeks at what was to come - it meant that San Francisco could actually get to 70 degrees and we could shed our sweaters and go for lunch outside. In Oakland, you could get out a pair of shorts and walk the dogs late into the evening (as long as the fog didn't roll in).

Once I moved to Michigan I really learned to appreciate June - by June Spring has usually sprung and then sprung away. The farmers market is starting to get the first real harvests in, all the geraniums that the little old ladies planted in May are blooming all over the place, and the grass is green - no matter which side of the fence you look on. And it means the beginning of an incredibly busy season of parties, hanging out with friends on the beach and generally soaking in every bit of sun, sand, water and fun that you can so that it can keep you warm all winter long.

So all things being equal, June should rock - and it did before my Dad died. June used to be a big month for our family, it was sort of an end of the season of celebration (all of our family's birthdays are over by June, so June was the last big deal till the holidays). It started off with Dad's birthday, going right on to my parent's anniversary and then rolling on to the big day, and always my Dad's favorite, Father's Day. When my brother-in-law came on the scene we celebrated his half-birthday in June (long story, but it makes June all the more fun) and when my nieces were born we had another dad to celebrate. June was a great month in our house and now it's just turned into the Trifecta of Crap-tastic-ness (a newly coined term, feel free to use it!).

As this June approached and Father's Day got closer I've been desperate to find a way to deal with today. Should I just hide out? Should I go out and celebrate with other dads? How can I make the day ok - still enjoy it as much as he did when he's not here. And then it occurred to me - baseball. I may not be able to celebrate with my Dad, but I sure can go do something he loved almost as much as Father's Day (well, probably more, the man did love baseball). So we're off to watch the Tigers take on the Brewers, we'll sit in the sun, eat hot dogs, drink beer, sing take me out to the ball game and maybe (if I'm really channeling Dad) I'll listen to the radio broadcast and score the game like he used to (but probably not, since it's kind of dorky and we used to make fun of him for doing it). Hopefully it will be a good day, we can be happy for the time we had with him and enjoy what he loved - Father's Day and baseball.

But could you all do me a favor? Hug a Dad for me today.

Current Music: Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World - Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Random Post on a Random Word

I was just going back to an old draft post to try writing it again. I gave it a quick read through and then started a few edits. As I got to the end I found the word "cojones" at the bottom.

I haven't the faintest clue as to why it was there, I'm not really sure what it has to do with what I was writing about or why I might have written it in the first place. And yet there sits at the bottom of the post. I might just leave it there to see if you're all paying attention.

Some times I crack myself up.

Current Music: Far Away - Ingrid Michaelson