She'll let you in her car, to go drivin' 'round.

At 7:28 tonight, I had a realization. In religious terms, had this particular realization been heralded by chubby children with wings and silken mops of golden curls, I might just want to call it an epiphany.

It was that powerful.

Brace yourselves, folks, it'll be a blog for the ages. What I'm going to say is short and sweet (or it could be, had I not the deep-seated desire to draw every word out of every situation). You will sit and think that it should be true all the time, but before you judge me as some crazy person, sit and think about whether or not you can say the same.

If you can, awesome. Sincerely, I think that it is fantastic in every way. I wish that I could say this all day, every day, but I think it's encouraging to say it and mean it any day, at any time. If you can't say this, I am sorry that you're stuck reading the blog of somebody who is saying it, because I know that's just like salt in the wound.

And with much (unnecessary) ado, I get to that little kernel which has kept you waiting with bated breath on the tips of your toes:

I'm happy. Really happy. And not some of the time, not on a day to day basis, not just when things are going right.

Yesterday morning, I walked into my house happy. And when I got there, the Waring brothers brought pancake mix and we let the puppies out in the yard and we hung out and it was really good. Just... simple. And still happy.

Then, probably one of the scariest things I have ever experienced. Charlie hobbled into the house, blood marking every part of the ground that her right paw touched. As she stood in our kitchen, it was literally spurting out, the type of bleeding you only see on Grey's Anatomy or in a Quentin Tarantino film. Bawling, and with Laurie in the back of the car also bawling, we drove to an emergency vet in Mount Pleasant.

Now, I know I've never really talked about the dogs on the blog except to say that they most likely think that we are all crazy. To sum up my relationship with the dogs, I love them. They are both La's and they both show her the highest degree of love and loyalty. But I adore them more than I realized. Charlie is, I would venture, exactly how I would be as a dog. She goes outside and runs around for twenty minutes like a bat out of hell and spends the rest of her day being lazy and a little bit weird.

So, we arrive at the vet, me cradling Charlie, La holding a (now horribly soiled) towel around her paw. A kind man who happened to be outside opens the door for us. We walk into the lobby and just stand there. Bawling, holding Charlie. If you've ever seen Michelangelo's Pietà right up close, you will understand the utter agony and depth of emotion. Granted our dog is not the crucified Jesus Christ and we are not Virgin Marys, the potential for loss was astounding to us.

Long story short, Charlie is now fine and has a pretty purple bandage on each paw and is learning to hobble on three legs and is laying at the edge of my bed as we speak.

I remarked to Laurie as we sat in the doctor's office that I was surprised by how quickly things could go wrong. We were having the perfect morning and suddenly found ourselves on the brink of what would be, for us, a tragedy. (That said, I should probably never have children. I would probably have a heart attack each time they fell from a swing.)

It wasn't until tonight, as I sat in class making a playlist instead of taking notes, that I realized how quickly things can go right. Despite our mishap yesterday, everything is going to be fine. Everything is still so, so good. And I thought about the past week. I had moments where I was upset, an entire hour-long phone call with my dad can attest to that, but on the whole, I came out of everything okay.

And not only okay, not merely surviving. But happy. I don't know exactly why, because I'm not one necessarily prone to unabashed joy (unless I am watching Chuck Bass on tv or dancing to no music).

It kind of feels good.


In other news, we have no water in our house. Kind of ironic, since Anna and Emily were just talking today about how we needed to change the bill to our name and start paying it...

In your eyes...

First, let me do the biggest shout out to my best friend and fellow blogger (newly!), KMK. Dear, KK. I love your blog and will read it daily. Not to mention that this chick is my best friend and also a seriously hilarious writer, she also is doing her first "friend interview" on me. An interview that I filled out at work this afternoon while eating a seared tuna salad and watching my section to see if it would ever get sat.

FYI- I had one table tonight, it was a single dude. He left me ten dollars on his twenty five dollar meal. It was sad that I only made ten dollars, but happy that I made it on a single one top.

Anyyyywaaaaayyyyy, I was seriously planning on plugging Krystina here, so here it is: Vanity. Live it, learn it, love it. This girl is amazing and I mean that.

In other news I had the most romantic walk ever. No kidding, full moonshine, empty inlet. Marshes. Lighthouse. Arthur Ravanel Bridge. Cruise boat in the harbor, followed closely by a sunset cruise. And as I rounded the battery, right along the marsh, a single shrimper casting its net. Oh, and I was also with Chris's dog. Seriously, I cried on the inside that I was walking a friends dog and not a boyfriend. It'll happen one day... Maybe?

My stomach is now protesting, and according to Sweet D, the Red Sox won?! Why is such a great night ending in such pain?

xoxo, GG? or just me.
Mo

I don't care if you really care, as long as you don't go.

Sometimes I have to wonder just what the dogs are thinking when they watch what goes on in this house. Today is Tuesday and I haven't worked since Saturday. In my three days off, I wonder increasingly what they think of what goes on when I'm here.

Exhibit A- Details Magazine. Apparently, this is a men's magazine. I use the word "men's" to really mean "metrosexual's". I mean, seriously, many straight-laced straight men would cower at a magazine targeted for them that discusses "douchebag hair", "winter wardrobe", and "The Gossip Guys". Ohhhh, those Gossip Guys! You will be pleased to know that there are also pictures of David Beckham in a cardigan, a great article by Augusten Burroughs, and a interesting portrait of Ridley Scott. It isn't all about the Gossip Guys, they just happen to be the most amazing part of the magazine. (At least in this issue. Apparently, there's one with Shia LeBeouf, too...) When I got to the part where they interviewed Ed Westwick, I literally went "Eee!" and took the magazine into my room to read it in bed. For some reason, I did not think it appropriate to hug the magazine to my body and grin in the livingroom. I don't think it is appropriate to hug magazines to your body and grin in any room, come to think of it. Perhaps I was just going to my room to hide my shame... The dogs followed, though. Luckily, they just fell asleep on the floor.

Exhibit B- Music. Seriously. I am now listening to Nick Drake, and that is suitably appropriate for 7:41 in the evening, laying in bed and writing a blog. Just a few minutes ago, though, I was actually bouncing in my seat to "Lovefool" by the Cardigans. Part of the song rings too close to home, but mostly, it is so catchy. Sure, you say, that song went out of style, oh, who knows, when Baz Lurhmann's "Romeo and Juliet" stopped playing in the theaters. But I still like it and I will still play it. Plus, it is less embarrassing than the Taylor Swift or, oh, don't say it, you know I'm gonna, Miley Cyrus that I've been known to pump through the speakers in my weakest moments. I'm not sure that the dogs really notice my music, but I would imagine they'd have to. Who couldn't notice "Jesus, Etc."?

Exhibit C- And this one must really mess the dogs up. Facon. Yeah, I said it. Fake-bacon. Facon. Every time I cook it (or one of the girls does), I imagine those commercials with the dog nose running through a house and into the kitchen screaming "Bacon! Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon, BACON!" Our dogs don't do that. Luckily for me, I am not pulling out Beggin' Strips, though. I am enjoying the salty, savory goodness of a product that looks/smells/and tastes so suspiciously like bacon that sometimes I have to pause and wonder just what is going into my body [editor's note- "That's what she said."]. In fact, Zuli started whimpering as I wrote that sentence. I would guess that either she objects to this facon or wants me to respect her utter restraint in not trying to eat it every time I cook it. Or she is just uncomfortable on the wood floors.

I could use more examples of things that really seem to confuse the hell out of the dogs: cigarette smoke, why in the heck I actually do my laundry on occasion and take away their happy home on the floor (La has already done this, so they sought refuge in my wasteland of a space), and of course, beer, but I shall stop.

Blogging? It's been a while. Felt good... I guess.

So I say I'm going to blog and then I don't. Funny, this is a pattern in my personality that has only lasted... five years now? I've been a blogger for five years?! Or more! Wow. Wowie McWowerson. I'm a little embarrassed, but mostly not.

I think the shift in blogging has come from a pretty big change in myself, though. And I don't think Bloggergate is entirely to blame. I mean, yeah, the desire to blog seriously decreases when your family calls you out on the nasty things you come up with when you're having a bad day. But a lot of other things have changed. Blogging used to be a personal thing and in the past few years I've really wanted to stop airing my personal business, especially in a way that is semi-anonymous and therefore tends to be passive-aggressive and whiney (at least in my case). So, then what? I blog about George Harrison and the books I am reading and a snippet of the writing I'm working on. I mean, that's interesting to me, I suppose, but then, why not just think these thoughts in my head and leave them at that. To blog about anybody else I know would be invasive and rude.

So on to the invasive and rude, starting with ____.

Just kidding.

Unless you want me to blog about you. Maybe that's the best idea. I can just write blogs about people that nominate themselves. KK, would you like to be first? And probably only, which means that I could blog about you once a week for a year and you'd have fifty blogs about how somebody loves you?

Ah, this is just getting sad.

You can come by any time you want...

Over a month with no updates and the only update you'll get right now is this:

NEW COMPUTER!!!

Expect more to come in the new few months.

(Seriously, it took me five months to get a new computer. Go me.)

Do you realize...

I'm writing a children's novel this summer. Check out the first five pages, brought to you exclusively by my blog...

Of all the people in this great big, whole wide, ever-changing world, very few are enthusiastic about (and even fewer, properly matched with) their age. There are old souls stuck in young bodies, immature spirits haphazardly breaking loose from wrinkled skin and shrinking bones, and everyone in between who just wants to be two years older (will eighteen ever come!) or one day younger ?(I could've been a tax break)?.
Aurelia Cielo was a blessed soul, completely free of any misgivings or mismatching when it came to her age. She was, quite simply, the world's elevenest eleven year old.
There were a lot of ways that Aurelia enjoyed her age. She studied salamanders in summer streams. She flew face first into fall's fantastic foliage. She wide-eyed wandered along the white wilderness of winter. And finally, in the spring of her eleventh year, just before she was to turn twelve (and appropriately so, for soon she would outgrow the elevenness of eleven)- Aurelia Cielo embarked upon the most stunning, frantic, wonderful, dizzying, life-changing, rip-roaring, gut-wrenching, all out amazing ride of her life.
But it didn't start off so exciting. No, on the contrary, May 11 started out just like any other day, with a sunrise and a tea set.
Aurelia's Aunt Gloria started every day with an entire kettle full of tea. Luckily, she started every day closer to noon than nine, allowing Aurelia a chance to sleep as late as she wished (8:27 every morning with the exception of Sundays and major holidays, when she slumbered right up until 9:13) before starting her chores, the most important of which was preparing her aunt's tea.
Just as Aurelia was arranging the last of the sugar cubes on her aunt's tray, she heard a loud thump and a deep bellow from upstairs.
"Aurelia!" It was shrill and trill and sent a chill up the spine of many a people. Aurelia had grown used to it and walked towards the room which smelled heavily of cinnamon and moth balls. (Aurelia liked to imagine she'd call it cinnaballs should she harvest it and market a line of aromatherapy candles with the scent- candles she knew no sane person would care to buy.)
"My spot of tea, dear," the older woman cooed from her oversized chair in the corner of her bedroom.
"No spots on this pot, Auntie." Aurelia placed the silver service just to the left of her aunt and cheerfully dropped two lumps of sugar in the cup she had prepared. "I just polished it this morning."
Aurelia's aunt, who was in the habit of adding the letter s to the front of certain words to make them sound more regal (an inexplicable habit, sto sbe ssure) ignored the gentle ribbing from her niece and turned to her giant Persian cat.
"Oh, sue me!" she exclaimed, knowing the cat would understand her exhaustion from housing such an ungrateful orphan with such grace and poise.
Umi, for his part, peeked at Gloria with one eye, recognizing his name, then fell back into an aloof semi-consciousness.
"My dear child," Gloria pursed her lips in disdain and stared at Aurelia's house dress. "What in the high heavens are you swearing?" differently.
"The strain, my child, the strain!" Gloria held her hands up above her head and her eyes bulged like those of a bullfrog, causing the veins in her neck to appear quit strained indeed
"What strain?"
"The strain!" Gloria was now shouting. "Today we leave for Otono! By strain!"
Aurelia immediately checked the clock that rested on her auntie’s mantle. Already 11:11! A firm believere in superstition, Aurelia made a quick wish (that they would, in fact, make the train on time) before clucking her tongue and facing Gloria’s doorway. Which had upwards of a dozen suitcases, all waiting to be carried towards the carport and loaded into Gloria’s antiquated station wagon.
“We need to leave in only two hours, Auntie!” Aurelia scolded. “Had I not forgotten, I would’ve woken you hours ago. Please have your bath quickly, we have a lot yet to do.”
“Of course, darling.” Gloria cooed over her teapot, yet showed no inclination to move. “Just be a dear and get my sluggage into the scar for me. I’ll be clean as a whistle in a moments notice.”
Picking up two of the bags, Aurelia’s mind was running so quickly that she almost didn’t hear Gloria’s voice echoing down the stairwell after her.
“And that dress, my dear! You must swear something nicer!”
“I’ll swear that woman will drive me batty one of these days, “Aurelia grumbled to herself as she heaved the bags into the old auto.
When they reached the train station, it was already 3:33 and they had but twelve minutes to pick up their tickets and check their luggage (thirteen bags for Miss Gloria and only one for young Aurelia) before their train pulled into the station.
“By my sword!” Gloria sighed as she fit her bulk uncomfortably into the compartment reserved for their two day journey. “I almost thought we wouldn’t make it.”
“And by my word, I just knew we would.” Aurelia grinned. “Why don’t you lie down and rest, Auntie? I’ll go find us some water and maybe a light snack.”
“Excellent plan, Sorry.” (I regret to inform you that due to Aunt Gloria’s pesky habit, Aurelia’s childhood nickname of “Auri” was pronounced most regrettably by the silly old broad.)
As Aurelia slipped from the quarters, she nearly stepped on a girl hunched against the door to the adjacent cabin. A grin rested on her face, not stretching from ear to ear, as some are wont to do, but simply enjoying the spotlight front and center.
“Oh my!” Aurelia started as she stumbled over the girl’s outstretched right leg. “I almost plowed right into you! I’m sorry, please excuse me.”
“No apologies necessary. Life is good.”
She stood to face Aurelia and brushed off the seat of her faded jeans. “Name’s Sonrisa, pleased to meet you, and just who might you be?”
Her smile didn’t falter once in the entire time she addressed Aurelia and her eyes stood attention as she waited for her answer.
“I’m Aurelia.” And just for good measure she added, “I’m eleven years old.”
Sonrisa held out a hand, which Aurelia gave a tentative shake. Before she could speak, her stomach did it for her, letting out a low grumble that made her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“I’m on my way to the snack car,” Aurelia shrugged. “Sounds like you might want to join me.”
“Wish I could, Aurelia-“
“Call me Auri.”
“Okay. Well, Auri, as I was saying. I just don’t have any spare money for the dining car. Sure wish I did, though, I think my mom packed us some tuna fish sandwiches, and there’s nothing that’ll turn your stomach quicker than three tuna subs in one small room. I came out here just to avoid snack time in case my guess proved true.”
Aurelia looked down to her feet and dug in her pockets to see if by some miracle, there might be an extra dollar or two from the last time she wore them. Of course, there wasn’t, but something just to the right of her feet caught her eye.
“Aha!” She bent to pluck the five dollar bill off the ground. “Your wish is my command, Sonrisa!”
“Call me Soni.”
“Soni and Auri? I like it.”
Sonrisa’s smile brightened as she regarded the five dollar bill. Then it faded away almost as quickly.
“But don’t you think we ought to return that?”
“To whom?” Aurelia gestured to her right and left, but all the doors were closed and nobody else stood in the hallway. “This money has no identification on it, plus whoever lost it probably doesn’t know it’s gone! As far as we know, somebody wanted you to have this.”

Hail to those who have gone...

Okay, well, I am a terrible negligent person and we already know this and I have a lot to say, but I don't know how to say it. So I'm going to do something a little different. I'm going to take a simple online survey that I found filled out on myspace and I'm going to make my own personal confessional of it. I realize that this is the most egotistical thing in the world seeing as, not only am I assuming anybody will care about a survey that I fill out, but here I'm also assuming that they will actually see me as innovative and fresh for changing the format a little.

Let the self-absorbency commence. Maestro, strike up the band...

I've come to realize that my boobs are not my best friend, nor are they my worst enemy. Sometimes they serve as a powerful tool, but that is very rarely and only to people who allow themselves to be swayed by boobs. And really, if you're that interested in a c-cup instead of a conversation, I've got no time for you. Really, I've got no time for my boobs, either.


I've come to realize that this weekend is the last weekend I'll be spending in Anacortes. Ever. And boy, I can't explain how happy that makes me. Not being somebody content to sit around and wait for the next big thing, I feel that's all I really have going for me here.


I've come to realize that when I'm driving I spend entirely too much time talking to myself and making up stories in my mind and rehashing the failings and successes in my life and not nearly enough time paying attention to traffic. To all the other drivers and my insurance company, my heartiest apologies.


I've come to realize that I need to get a job, a clue, and a backbone.


I've come to realize that I have lost my best friend. (For the record, it's not an experience I recommend. Losing touch is one thing, losing the person... not quite the same.)


I've come to realize that I hate it when I talk too much. Blogging is really the easiest way to combat this because nobody has to listen to me here. Nobody has to listen to anything, they can read it if they choose or walk away (click away?) and never come back. Or come back often. Or they can start their own and get their own skeletons out of their own closets and into a fashionable display window with a moon and stars background.



I've come to realize that if I'm drunk I really, really need to have my phone taken away from me. Really, I need to be sequestered in a room by myself with a big bottle of water and a big bottle of aspirin and a big bed. But we all know that never happens...


I've come to realize that money makes people loco. Crazy. Insane. Batty. You get the drift...


I've come to realize that certain people are amazing :). (Certain people aren't, but why would I sully my very own shiny little blog with them? They've got their own way of getting their problems out in the open.)


I've come to realize that I'll always be a little bit heiress, a little bit Irish. (And, on that note, terribly fond of stealing song lyrics to express myself. What is up with that? So unoriginal... Ten point to anybody who knows from whence the heiress/Irish bit originated.)

I've come to realize that I have a crush on celebrities and people who want nothing to do with me. Don't get all "She's so self-deluded and has no self-confidence" on me. EVERYBODY does it. I bet you've done it, too.

I've come to realize that my mom was most likely not perfect but was just as perfect for me as anybody that has ever come into my life (and probably ever will).


I've come to realize that my cell phone is really not that great. I mean, you have to buy the internet plan to even get a freaking picture message. As a result, I do not have the tractor that says "poopdick", I do not have license plate that says TLA, and I cannot send other ridiculous things to those that like ridiculous things.


I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning, I was still tired and wanted to go back to sleep. Which I did. I'm such a lazy girl sometimes.

I've come to realize that last night before I went to sleep... you know what, dear whoever made up this survey, this is a stupid question and the last one was, too. I've come to realize implies that you've had a lot of time to think about something. I've come to realize that.... what about last night? Seriously, you haven't come to realize that, you've just remembered it. And to be honest, I don't even know what I did before bed last night. Probably got under the covers and turned out the lights like I do ever other night. And for the record, some of the questions coming up fall under this same category. Think of better questions for this survey![/meta ]

I've come to realize that right now I am thinking about why on earth Fiona Apple always seems so unhappy.

I've come to realize that my dad has had a much greater influence on who I am than I realized. Also, he's pretty awesome. I really enjoy my dad. ...Most of the time, of course.

I've come to realize that when I get on myspace I wonder why it's been so long since I've been on and then realize that I'm actually just addicted to facebook instead. Facebook ftw!

I've come to realize that today came before tomorrow and just right after yesterday. Isn't that the funniest thing?

I've come to realize that tonight it's kind of dark outside and kind of cold outside, but I'm inside drinking a South American fern and there can't be anything dark or cold about that, maybe just slightly weird.

I've come to realize that tomorrow I will probably do the same thing as I did today. Maybe I'll get the chance to finish The Moor's Last Sigh though...

I've come to realize that I really want to give the world a hug. Not the actual world, it's entirely too big and wet and there are all sorts of prickly things on it like mountains and trees. But you know, the people. Except the ones that I don't like. Why on earth would I pretend to like somebody and hug them? That sounds terrible. But I do love hugs. Maybe if I get super lonely...