Happy Birthday, Mother!

It's an old pic, but I know it's one of your favorites.

Then and Now

It Was A Good Day

I just realized that I have read 20 books this summer thus far.

I called to FD from my office, and told him. He said, "You're a machine, my little bird."

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We saw an incredible sunset this evening. I took some pics. Perhaps I will post them sometime soon.

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I found the Juliana Hatfield Three cd I've been looking for. It's at our university library, on the music listening floor--my new favorite floor (imagine single vinyls hanging from the ceiling, purple walls with musician posters, and pink lamps--my kind of place). For $1.50 (the cost of a blank CD that works in their machines) they are burning me "My Sister" as well as her EP For the Birds. Needless to say, I'm happy.

I still have to trust strangers, but I feel a little better about that because they are strangers who I know work at our library.

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Get this: last night during our late night walk past our beloved City Park, I get a bug between my toes. I stop us to pick it free when FD starts nudging me non-stop. I look up to see a man in amour walking out of the dark shadows of the golf course onto the lighted sidewalk. I stand up. FD and I stare. Medieval cross on chest. Tin-man clank. We were stone-cold sober, I swear.

FD: "Can I ask you why you're dressed in amour?"
Tin-Man: "Jerusalem."
FD and me: "?" (our faces say it all)
TM: "The Holy Wars."
FD and me: "?"
TM: "I'm just fucking with you."
FD and me: "?"
TM: "We have role playing in the park every Thursday night. I'm on my way to El Zarape to meet up with a friend. Try to make it next week to watch."
FD and me: "!"

Then the Tin-Man walked off into the night--in the street by the way--to a restaurant that by foot takes about an hour to get to--with his heavy outfit maybe an hour and a half.

When he was out of sight, we started walking again. After about five minutes FD said, "Cool."

Tin-Man reminded me of my favorite pic I took in Gettysburg of a Civil War re-en-actor walking down a street talking on a cell phone...I might have to post that pic soon.

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Tomorrow is the last day of my birthmonth. I have a special treat. Stay tuned.

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BTW, the title of this post pays homage to Ice Cube song.

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Oh, and I got Sonic Youth's album Sister.

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And, finally, if you want to get me a birthmonth present, please make it an iPhone. I actually think I want one more than my Chrome Hearts sunglasses...Oh, I don't know. It's really a toss up...

A Glimpse of How Horrible the 80s Were to Me...

When It's So Hot, I Think I Like Winter More Than Summer

My Sister and Me

Defining Cute Since 1977

With Hons (Geez, Ross, Stop Bothering Me)

Best Adjusted (Who Would've Thunk?)

Wearing Plaid: A Tribute to FD

The Three Musketeers (1978)

Poolside: Mom and Me

Me: "Yay, I love Pictures." Bro: "Here we go again..."

My Bro and I Used to Look Like Twins...

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Happy Father's Day!!!

Most times when I think of my Pops, I think of him sitting in "his chair" reading the paper, real estate magazines and/or his Hot Rod magazines. He is an avid reader, like me, but different from me in that he doesn't read much ficition or poetry. I asked him once about not reading novels and collections of poems and he said, "Why read stuff about made-up people when there's plenty to read about real people. And I have you to tell me about the made-up stuff." (You can see where I got my sass from...)

While I was reading my new favorite book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, I thought about my dad a lot and how I would feel to be in Oskar's shoes, who lost his dad. It's not something that I like to think about, but I think every kid does. That train of thought, though, led me to this realization, I think without my dad, I wouldn't have followed my dreams and my heart. He was always there to be my cheerleader and my reality check. He's responsible for motivating me and teaching me a little hard work never hurt. (OK, I did learn to be a work-a-holic from him, but I also got my fantastic sense of humor from him--that's a fair trade-off.) And I realized in my reading that every time I encounter a dad, I either relate to love between a main character and his/her father or wish that character had my dad. (Of course, I feel the same way during "real life" talks about dads, but for some reason it's writing that always resonates the dad-thing more for me. And that's not a coincidence...) My Pops hears me out, gives me sound advice, and is always there for me. Even after the time in middle school when I slammed my bedroom door in his face during a fight. Or when I went to "the Beach" at night when I wasn't allowed to and got caught by one of his co-workers who I begged to not tell Pops and, of course, who told Pops, and I had to come clean in order to get my first car, a VW Super Beetle. Or when I was yelling at him for yelling at me while he was teaching me how to drive stick in my Beetle and he whacked the back of my head to shut me up and suddenly I was driving stick. He's there now when I get discouraged house-hunting or with my writing, and he's always eager to hear a funny story about one of my students or the neighbor kid we caught pissing on the house next door.

And probably my favorite story right now is how I got him on April's Fools Day. The same McGuire from my Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close posting is one of my former students. And in February she emailed me pics of her new tat--some gorgeous ink on her bicep that beautifully scrawls "McGuire." After I got these pics, I knew right away my plan and saved them. On the eve of April's Fools Day (actually early morning on the day), I woke up special to craft a seemingly drunk email that talked about going out for drinks with some girlfriends and deciding to get a new tat (Pops hates the one I already have!), and then getting in a fight with FD about it when I got home, and what should I do, I'm so upset, etc...You get the point. I called him really late on Sunday morning (we usually talk Sunday mornings pretty early) and acted hungover (if you have sinus problems, like me, it's really easy to do and if you have had a lot experience with hangovers, it's even easier) and asked if he got my email. He said, "No," and asked me what was wrong. I gave him a huge sob story about my hangover and tat and fight with FD; I was faking crying--it was great. He listened quietly to the whole story, and finally at the end, he blew up and started yelling at me (I didn't know at the time, but he was a Starbucks and spilled his coffee all over a new shirt Hons had bought him and all these people were staring!). He said he thought I had grown up and he couldn't believe I was going out and getting tats without talking to FD, and spending our house savings money to boot without talking to FD and he couldn't support me on this one, etc.--I had him eating out of my hand. FD was listening to the whole thing, and we couldn't take it anymore. We busted out in a fit of laughter that left us totally breathless and satisfied in our trickery! And poor Pops, once he realized what day it was and that it was all just a joke, he couldn't do anything but laugh. See, it pays to be a hell-raiser in your younger years b/c come April's Fools Day you can really get your old man!

So to my Pops, my father-in-law FJR, and all the dads out there, Happy Father's Day! And remember when us kids are giving you hell, it just means we love you.

Dad, How Many More Minutes?!? I Have To Go Pee!

Too Cute for Words!

Smiling Though the Claustrophobia

Helping Out--Because That's What Siblings Do!