Everybody is somebody else's weirdo.

10:12 pm: Wait For It...
Okay, so I started my new job today.

So far, the tasks are not difficult, it's NOT for minimum wage, and I do indeed get to wear jeans and t-shirts. And I have a badge. A BADGE! Everyone, and I do mean everyone, was super-nice, even when they were giving each other shit. It was a little difficult to concentrate at times, considering I'm still nursing my major depression and uber-heartache (another story entirely), but I got through the day okay.

On the drive home, my beloved Sam called to ask how I was and what I was doing. I burst into tears (I've been on the verge all week). He invited me out, but I ended up staying in. I love my friends so much, but I am acutely aware of the possibility of becoming an emotional drain and burden. A big reason I have stepped back from a few. Once again, another story for another time.

Later in the evening, I get all morose and weepy, and heartbreakingly sob for a bit. Then I decide to call my friends whom I know will answer their phones, barring nuclear holocaust (or ill-timed work breaks). Chris. Sam. Josh. Jeremy last. I end up on the phone with Jeremy for nearly an hour and a half, hashing out the details of every bloody aspect of my bloody life. It was wonderfully therapeutic. He and I have been friends for over 17 years and he knows me like few do. I love that guy, and we both wish he didn't live in San Diego.

So, nine o'clock rolls around and I realize I haven't eaten dinner. I load the dog into the car (she loves rides) and we take off for Taco Bell (I know, I know). We get to the end of the block, when this horrible, greasy sound erupts from her crate, which is seatbelted on the passenger side. It's the sound made by an upended, nearly-empty plastic bottle of yellow mustard when it's squeezed far too hard and far too quickly. I realize with horror... the dog has just crapped her crate.

(Sidenote: She's been ill lately... probably feeling my 72-hour anxiety attack as acutely as me).

There's a delay between my realizing what just happened, and the olfactory evidence reaching my sinuses. But then... the smell. Jesus-effing-Christ-on-a-pogo-stick, THE SMELL! Who would have thought that a 22 ounce dog could ever create a mind-wasting stench like that?!

Fucking hell. So we turn around. We pull back into the driveway and park. We go inside. I dump my forlorn baby, crate and all, into the bathtub. I push up my sleeves, drag her out and explain very gently that while she is not in trouble, she is a filthy, disgusting beast and must be cleansed. I shove her under a probably-too-warm tap and douse her hide with puppy shampoo and scrub like I'm trying to eliminate the world's sins. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Now she's all pleased with herself.

And I still haven't eaten dinner.

Fie.

07:30 pm: Yoga At The (Butt)Crack Of Dawn.
A couple of early Friday mornings ago, Sisters Yoga was on the news. If you wanna see me doing yoga at the studio of my friend and teacher, Chaz, click here.

The yoga segment starts 1:20 minutes in. I'm to the far right, on a purple mat, wearing black pants and a pinkish flowered tank top, with my bottom in the air. Yep.

10:56 am: Every Vote Counts.
A level-headed, erudite commentary by Brad Hicks on why every vote counts, even in a primary election.

Click here to be spanked with a water heater if you didn't vote last night

10:14 am: "It Happened."
Two years ago today, at 10:15 am, my mom died. At 10:00 am, or perhaps even 10:10 am, I might have still been able to speak with her on the phone. Her name was Deborah, and she was 53 years old.

In September of 1999, she had a hysterectomy and oophorectomy (uterus and ovaries… they pretty much ripped out all her plumbing). In mid-August of 2005, she was given three months to live. In the third week of that month, I called my mom to give her the good news that I’d been cast in “A Christmas Carol.” She gave me some news of her own.

She had an in-home caregiver named Scherry and an adjustable hospital bed in her living room. She lived twice as long as doctors predicted (six months, the stubborn bat!). The primary cause of my mom’s death was cachexia… major weight loss, usually brought on by the trappings of a chronic disease. The chemo wouldn’t let her keep any food down, so basically… she starved to death. Before she died, she looked 90. Secondary reason on her Death Certificate (which is on my desk in front of me) was “Metastatic Ovarian Cancer.” She was not embalmed. There was no viewing and no service (at her adamant request). I did, however, hold a memorial in my home a couple of months later. Memorials are for the living.

My mom was on the news a few months before she died. She was diabetic and had a huge cache of diabetic supplies… test strips and needles, monitors and vials. She wanted to donate all of her stuff, which I took care of early last year.

The day she died, my step-father, Robert, called my cell phone and said only, “It happened.” I was at work. I closed my office door. I had the necessary conversation. When I came out, everyone knew. They asked if I was okay to drive across town. I said I was. I drove over to her apartment oddly focused but completely numb. I walked inside, hugged Robert and sat down on the floor next to the only dead body I’ve ever seen. I put my hand on her. From the time she was found dead until I made it to her side, about 45 minutes had elapsed. I stared at her face. Her eyes were closed. I fully expected her to open them.

The coroner came and took her. Papers were signed. A receipt for my mom.

Her beloved high school friend, Marlene, called me very soon after my mom died. The two had been out of contact for many, many years and Marlene had finally tracked down my information. I had to tell Marlene that my mom died 17 days prior.

My mom’s body sat in a fridge for 12 days. It cost $491.00 to cremate her body, collect her ashes and put them in a cherry wood box (the receipt for all that is on my desk in front of me, as well). Robert asked me to keep her safe until such time as we are ready to “distribute” her. So she’s on my hearth, with various beautiful things around her… colored rocks, an orange silk pillow with tiny brass bells, a candle in a Zen holder, a Day of the Dead book, another candle in a Wiccan wreath woven by my friend Rachaell (my mom was Wiccan, too).

So. That’s what’s on my mind today.

11:49 pm: Today I Got A Manicure.
Today, at 3:30 pm, I got a manicure. It was free, a bonus for being a member at my yoga studio. I also got my choice of fruit juice or sparkling wine at the studio before walking down the mall to the nail establishment. Chaz rocks.

There is a complete-and-unto-itself culture associated with the care and embellishment of the human fingernail! You'd think that, being a girl in the civilized world, I would be familiar with this. But today was my first-ever hand treatment of this sort.

It was weird. There was the soaking in warm, lavender-tinted water. Actually, that was kinda nice. Then there was the nail filing. Then there was the application of liquid cuticle remover. Then my manicurist took a funky-looking tool and nipped off my cuticles. You know, those things that evolution put there to protect the nails? Apparently they are considered unsightly and unnecessary (like armpit hair on women and foreskins on men). Then came the hand cream, and the massage, and the towels, and more massage. And an exfoliating sugar scrub! That part rocked. When she applied the wet, hot, steaming towels to my hands and forearms, I proclaimed (kinda loudly) that it was fortuitous that I did not have to pee.

Then there was the painting. I chose a deep plum-ish hue. That's the weirdest part. I can actually feel the stuff weighing down the tips of my hands. I honestly can't recall the last time I had paint on my fingernails (interior latex semi-gloss when I'm painting a fixer-upper house doesn't count). I don't know if I'll have another manicure again, and I only went because it was free. But I do feel like I've lifted the curtain on the Wizard just a little.

11:59 pm: Ten Things About Me
I was "tagged" a long time ago by someone who posted a list of 10 things about herself. I am to do the same, so here's mine:

1. I almost always have to start out walking on my left foot. I'm pretty sure it's a remaining idiosyncrasy from my high school marching band days.

2. I really like songs by The Pointer Sisters, ABBA and Carly Simon. They remind me of the happy parts of my childhood.

3. I donate money (and sometimes cars!) to no-kill animal shelters, Planned Parenthood and non-profits that plant trees.

4. My hearing was tested a couple of years ago, and it went off the scale. A totally silent room is zero decibels. According to my Audiologist, I hear in negative decibels. That's why you'll never see me without earplugs.

5. My first ever job was working in a laundromat at the age of 15. We washed clothes from a nearby summer camp. It's amazing the things people will allow other people to see (and wash!).

6. I own a Theremin. I can even cause it to make sound, although it's nothing quite yet resembling pleasant, or even interesting, music.

7. As a child, I was so terrified of hypodermic needles that it once took four full-grown male interns to hold me down in order to draw blood.

8. I have chronic back pain, brought on when I was in massage school.

9. My virginity went bye-bye at 17 (I won't say I "lost" it, because I know exactly where it went!).

10. I'm allergic to four things, and they all start with the letter "C."

So there you have it.

11:36 am: So Far This Year...
Two Thousand Eight is going to be my year of accomplishments, both great and small. And maybe some medium-sized ones for good measure. In the first five days, I've:

1. Made meatloaf for the first time in years
2. Had Ethiopian food for lunch with friends (hi, Maari & Claire!)
3. Had Ethiopian food for dinner with friends (hi, Will & Amanda!)
4. Shopped at Trader Joe's (love that place)
5. Gotten sore as hell from belly dancing class (with Carly!)
6. Had some minor repair work done on my house
7. Saw an excellent play with beloved friends (last night!)
8. Sold my massage table for my full asking price (just this morning!)

Yes, I'm going to continue this productive trend for the next 361 days (it's a leap year, so I'll have an extra 24 hours, too!).

02:16 pm: 2007 vs. 2008
Some things I accomplished / goals I reached in 2007:

1. Didn't hack off my hair in a fit of frustration
2. Quit my job (partially in a fit of frustration)
3. Bought a digital camera (leaping into the 21st century, I am!)
4. Sold my piano
5. Continued yoga and started belly dancing again
6. Tried pole dancing
7. Acted in three plays, back to back (overlapping even!)
8. Had my resume professionally done
9. Maintained and deepened friendships

So far, in 2008, I have flossed every day. Here's to a better, more productive year. In 2008, I will:

1. Audition again (but not for a few months)
2. Sell my house (quickly, please)
3. Continue to allow my hair to grow
4. Find a job I really, really enjoy
5. Open up the bag containing my mom and distribute her ashes somewhere
6. Have professional headshots taken and acting resume drafted
7. Try acupuncture (I have chronic back pain)
8. Go to the dentist (I haven't been in years... I know, I know)
9. Teach someone to read
10. Plant a cherry tree and grow tomatoes at my next house (excited about that!)

And there's so much more I will do. But I'm not going to talk about it right now.

11:08 pm: Went to see The Knuckledraggers tonight with my beautiful Sam. The Fresno-based improv comedy troupe performs every Friday night (the advertised New Year's Eve thing is, well, a New Year's Eve thing). There were nine people on stage tonight (the photo on the site seems to be a bit out of date). But my gut still aches from laughing. I highly recommend attending.

11:16 am: Oh, Joyous Day!
Ethiopian food is my comfort food. A friend (Hi, Dave!) introduced us to it on a trip to Portland, Oregon many years ago.* I think the place was called Queen of Sheba. I have since tried to duplicate the stuff, with sad, sad results.

My husband called me this morning to share information that he was certain would brighten my day. And he was right. We have an Ethiopian restaurant in Fresno! And it's received good reviews! I hope he realizes that I will require weekly feedings now that I know.




* This nine-day trip also included a stop in Sacramento and a jaunt to deliver contraband alcohol to schoolteacher friends stuck in a dry state (go, Utah!).

04:25 pm: For Sale !
I'm selling my Kimball upright piano:

Piano

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And my purple massage table:

Massage table

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Both prices are negotiable. =)

09:45 pm: "Childe Byron" Review!
Donald Munro (of The Fresno Bee) saw our play last Sunday afternoon.

Here is his review.

I'm mentioned by name, which is a first for me, and his comments are favorable. There will be no indiscriminate slaying of the masses today, for I am... pleased.

08:58 pm: Today, My Little Girl Is Eight Years Old!
My Chihuahua, Ruby, is eight years old today. I've had her since she was just under four months old. She still weighs a pound and a half and is a little spoiled (her stinkbreath proves that). For her birthday dinner, she ate an entire jar of baby food wieners (which are, for the sake of convenience, usually reserved for road trips).

To give you an idea of just how small my little one is... she's been knocked over by a falling leaf. Her veterinarian still uses puppy-sized needles and the puppy-sized weighing scale. I wash her in the kitchen sink. She pooped on the lawn this evening and had to climb off of it.

I love this dog as if she were my own human child. Happy Birthday, Ruby!

02:39 pm: Today Is Saturday, October Twentieth, Two Thousand Seven
Up until recently, I ordered our work supplies from Quill (I have since quit my job and the task has fallen on different shoulders). I highly recommend dealing with Quill, as they are reasonably priced, customer-oriented and they ship orders ridiculously fast. About a year ago, I completed an online survey for Quill, highlighting what I do in my spare time. From all customer entries, Quill chose a handful of stories to feature on their website and in their literature. Mine is one of those stories.

So that's pretty cool and stuff.

09:41 pm: I Was In An Accident!
First of all, I’m fine. My car is mostly fine (there’s a small gash in the rear bumper, almost imperceptible). This is the first accident I’ve ever been in. I was on my way to Severance Dance Studio last night to learn to waltz for my upcoming play, Childe Byron. I was stopped three cars back at a red light, corner of Wishon and McKinley, facing west, waiting to turn south. The guy behind me was also fully stopped. I hear squealing tires and see smoke, and BAM! Guy in a white van plows into the guy in the white truck behind me, who is pushed forward into my poor, unsuspecting Highlander. After the initial three seconds of shock, I realize what has just happened; I’ve been rear-ended (heh heh… rear). My first reaction (after WHOA!) is to call my Stage Manager, which I do, to let her know I’ll be delayed. The guy in the white truck (who turns out to be very handsome and named Scott) comes up alongside my car and asks if I’m okay. I respond to the affirmative. Scott then hightails it back to Van Guy, who apparently speaks little English, so communication is scant. Scott and I decide to get our vehicles out of the way of traffic, since there is no evidence of fire, blood or protruding bones. We pull south on Wishon and park at the curb. Van Guy gets stopped at the light, so we wait. Van Guy’s light turns green, he turns south on Wishon… and whizzes right past us. We’ve just been in a hit-and-run accident! Scott leaps into his truck to chase the guy and yells to me to call the police, which I do. Scott returns in short order with Van Guy’s plate number. In the meantime, I tell the cops where we are and what happened. Five cops show up. Also, some of my fellow actors have walked up the street from the studio to check on me, which was very much appreciated. Insurance information is exchanged. Cops catch Van Guy a few blocks away. After talking with him, they find out he is very old, Ukrainian and did not know he was supposed to stop after an accident, so it wasn’t a purposeful hit-and-run. He has insurance, which is good for Scott, who will definitely need to have his concave tailgate repaired (he took the brunt of the impact). After a while, we are released and I make it to the studio, where I learn to waltz (I was told I’m a quick learner). All in all, an evening of firsts (I’ve never waltzed before, either).

03:59 pm: Waaahhh!
Okay. I've quit my job. I'm starting rehearsal for another play tonight. We just put our house on the market. The holiday season is upon us. My current play is about to end. I can't financially afford to continue therapy right now. I'm going back to school on the 16th. And I have chapped lips.

There are other, more private things, too. I think I'm gonna implode.

08:54 pm: I Quit My Job.
See subject. More later.

03:44 pm: Ha! Too Fun To Pass Up...
1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)

Delilah Highlander

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)

Mint Chocolate Chip Ginger Snap (holy crap, that's ridiculous)

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)

D-Ran

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)

Purple Aye-Aye

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born),

Margaret Fresno (ugh!)

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)

Rando (hey, not bad)

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink),

The Periwinkle Martini

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)

Lewis Charles

9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)

Cinnamon Toblerone (they're not gonna be able to fit that on the marquee)

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names ),

Leslie Lewis

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)

Johnson Juneau

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower).

Autumn Rose

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)

Mandarin Orange Sockie

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)

Crackers Lemon

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)

The Mosaic Clouds Tour

04:06 pm: When I Feel Down...
When I feel down, I try to think of things in my life that are going well. I've been feeling pretty freakin' down lately, so here:

1. Blood test recently (part of a physical... wasn't expecting anything bad). I have incredibly healthy blood (the phlebotomists called it "enviable"), with low "bad" cholesterol and high "good" cholesterol.

2. Re-joining the yoga studio is good for my mood. I've only had time for yoga and bellydancing, but Mambo Workout is in my future, baby!

3. Met my 2 month old nephew, Carter, and held him. He and my niece (Carley) will be up this week from Orange County, and it's not so often we meet.

4. I have money in the bank, food in the cupboards, gas in my car and friends in my cell phone.

5. Fall is almost here, and I love it dearly.

6. Only 16 performances left for "The Miracle Worker." Why, you may ask, is this a good thing? I enjoy the show and my fellow actors, but damn, do I need a BREAK. And my next play ("Childe Byron") has only 8 performances, instead of 36.

7. Got a phone call from a publisher today who wanted to talk about my book. The one I've barely begun. Let the shameless self-promotion begin!

8. Nona and Papa (my husband's grandparents) will be here tomorrow from Canada. In addition to the fact that I have no grandparents of my own, I like them. They're good people.

9. Going to see "Man of La Mancha" next week. And dinner out is always a plus.

10. I have a snail-shaped cat toy on my computer monitor. It makes me smile.


Whew. That actually took a lot of effort, typing ten good things. There are so many awful things going on in my life right now. But I forced myself to ignore them for fifteen minutes or so, and focus on the good. It was a pleasant exercise. I highly recommend it.

11:24 am: This Morning's Dream...
I dreamed that I had ordered some stuff, and it arrived in a cardboard box. As I was sorting through the stuff I ordered, I noticed a shiny black phone at the bottom of the box. I pulled it out of the box and saw that it was already plugged into the wall by a flat, black shoestring. I thought, that’s odd, and unplugged it. The instant I did, it rang. I picked up the handset and hesitantly held it to my ear. I heard a very distant, old-sounding recording of a man singing with minor musical accompaniment. He was singing a song about another man who used to sing a song to his own little girl on her birthday, every year until she turned 21, when he stopped singing the song. Then the recording ended abruptly, mid-song, and I heard a real man’s voice, although still sounding distant and dusty. He said, “But you’re… thirty. … … … How did you make it to thirty?”