Roasting chestnuts and a cup of blog.

Lately my days have been filled with recipes and nutrition research working on my gastric bypass cookbook. I've also been printing and hanging some of my latest photography here at home. It's an interesting process that requires several key elements I don't, personally, possess. Things like concentration, time and a degree in nutrition.

Dictionary.com says that concentration is "The act or process of concentrating, especially the fixing of close, undivided attention." Uh, close, undivided attention??? I have three kids! Who do these people think I am? Within the span of fifteen minutes I can look up the nutrition information for a recipe for stuffed cabbage rolls, listen to one daughter expound on the latest music video by Eminem, get a phone call from Jackie's father about how to work the remote for their new DVD player, explain to another daughter that she needs to figure out for herself how to beat the dragon tunnel on her video game and then try to write comments on the recipe program I use while the oldest daughter complains that her hair color doesn't match the one on the box.

Yeah, it's a little slice of organized bedlam. Now it's punctuated with the sound of angels singing next to the nine year old, the nineteen year old's kitten knocking over our little fiber-optic Christmas tree and the thirteen year old giggling with her best friend while they cut pictures out of magazines to make holiday collages. I look around and feel the miracles of the season in everything and I'm so grateful. It reminds me of seasons past and some of the life lessons that I learned.

Let me tell you about one holiday season that I'll never forget. Grab a tissue and pull up a chair.

It was just before thanksgiving and I was about sixteen. My family had changed, dramatically, over the previous couple of years. We lived in a house in Santa Ana, CA and we were in the worst financial position that we'd ever been in. A few years before my father had an accident, following hip surgery, that paralyzed him from the waist down. He was let go from his job and hadn't been able to find work since. We'd already used up the money from the disability settlement that he'd received and my twin brother and I found full-time jobs at the age of thirteen to try and help supplement our income. My mother was working nights in the cafeteria of a local hospital for minimum wage. We didn't know where the money to buy our next meal was coming from, let alone what was needed to buy the obligatory Thanksgiving feast and, later, Christmas presents. We didn't talk about it but all of us felt the sadness and went about our daily routines like robots.

My brother and I had gone to school early one morning, as usual, because we had band practice. Normally, we worked after school but that day neither one of us was scheduled so we drove straight home. What we came home to was a picture that I'll never forget. Parked in our driveway at the end of the cul-de-sac that we lived on was a large flatbed truck. Three men were busy unloading boxes from the back and shouting orders to one another. At first, my brother and I were sure that they were there there because we were being evicted from our home. We both knew that we were behind on the mortgage payments and were expecting to get, at least, a notice in the mail like we'd received before. We quickly parked the car on the street and rushed inside.

Sitting in the midst of a mountain of boxes was my mother crying... almost hysterical.

"What's going on?!?!" I demanded of my mother and the gentleman kneeling on the ground next to where she sat. My mother motioned that it was all right and waved us to the chairs on the other side of our dining room table. It was then that I realized that the boxes they were bringing in weren't empty but completely full. One of the gentlemen dropped another box on the pile, smiled, clapped me on the back and headed back out to the truck. All I could do was stand there with my jaw hanging.

"I'm Assistant Pastor Dave from Calvary Chapel." I snapped my head around and stared into the face of the man who had been kneeling next to my mother. Finally, recognition dawned. I'd seen this man lead prayers and services when our head pastor at the church we attended was travelling. He smiled and extended his hand. I pumped it and tried to smile.

"We got word that your family was having some trouble and needed a little help. We're here to help."

My mother stopped crying and came over with her arms spread wide. She wrapped them around my brother and me and sniffled while she hugged us. When she pulled back her eyes, still glistening and red, were beaming like the midday sun. She smiled and wiped her nose.

"It's so wonderful." She said, "These men just showed up here ten minutes ago and started unloading boxes full of food and presents for Christmas. They've even given us a check to catch up our house payments. It's a miracle."

Tears started streaming down her face again as she showed my brother and me the contents of the mountain of boxes now lining our little dining room. There were three huge, frozen turkeys, cans of vegetables and fruits, boxes of stuffing, packages of pasta, soup and sauces a plenty. There were also dozens of brightly wrapped packages trimmed in ribbons and bows ready to be put under the Christmas tree and trimmings that we had decided several days before wouldn't be put up that year.

The men from our church all smiled and hugged us wishing us all a happy holidays and God's blessing as they left. The rest of the day was spent trying to find places to put all of the wonderful gifts they'd left behind. My father came home that evening from a day of looking for work to a house full of food, teary smiles and laughter.

That holiday season we dressed the house up with all the trimmings a little early and ate like royalty for a month. I was grateful for every turkey sandwich I took to school and work. I spent many of my meals, away from home, smiling quietly and saying a lot of thankful prayers. Every year, starting with Thanksgiving and on through Christmas, I am reminded of that year when we thought we would have nothing and ended up with far more than our share.

This year, as I look around at the beautiful faces of my new family and remember that time, I'm even more grateful. We're struggling but still blessed beyond measure. We have food in our kitchen, gifts waiting to be opened (even though they've already been inspected) and enough to share with family and friends. It's one of the reasons that I torture everyone with Christmas music starting the day after Thanksgiving and all the way through New Year's Day. The holiday season hasn't always been so filled with blessings but through every trial and tribulation I've remembered those days when I was sixteen and it gives me the courage to have faith and keep going.

This year I encourage all of you to give generously to those you meet, every day, that may just need a smile and a kind word. If you can do more, great. If not, terrific. Gifts from the heart make the biggest difference in the lives we come in contact with.

I'll be writing a holiday top ten next time. For now, God bless you all and Happy Holidays!!!

A blog for the kids.

This is a confession and an apology. You see, I'm now the father figure in a family that fits me like a glove. We're meant to be together. The biggest problem is that I tend to see the things in those closest to me that I despise in myself. I'm guilty of poking fun at things that happen around me and laughing at the negatives without taking the time to point out the good things. I'm ashamed to admit it, but Jackie reminded me of that tonight. This is my small attempt to set that right.

J~ You'll be nineteen soon and you're being expected to act like an adult when you haven't properly been taught what that means. You've got enough heart to bring everyone around you to their knees. You smile and laugh when most people I've known would be running away as fast as they could. You love with reckless abandon even though you have every reason to be more jaded, cynical and paranoid than I am... on a daily basis, it seems. Don't ever lose your ability to care for your friends and family and you'll be a better person for it. I lose my patience because I have faith in who you are and I want you to be happy. I love you. Please forgive me.

M~ One of the first things your mother told me about you is that you've always seemed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I think she's right. The amazing thing is that you find goodness and joy everywhere you look. Even though you're so angry you still forgive and learn from the pain you feel. You have strength and determination that will make your wildest dreams possible. Reach for the stars... because if anyone I know can, you can. I love you. Please forgive me.

B~ Everyone jokes that you look and act like me. We laugh about it but secretly it's the most incredible complement I've ever been paid. You smile and it wipes all the tears away. Because you're the youngest you get teased the most but you never seem to let that get you down. That's more amazing than you'll ever know. You have a passionate, wide-eyed innocence that doesn't seem like it will ever go away. And I don't think it will because I think deep inside you're smarter, wiser and stronger than anyone realizes. Think for yourself, love for no reason and experience life for everything it promises. Out of all of us, you constantly teach us more than we teach you and help us find our way when we get lost. I love you. Please forgive me.

Well, the most poignant apology is for Jackie. It's also the most simple. Please don't ever stop expecting me to be a better person. If you ever did I'd know that I had lost you forever. I love you. Please forgive me.

Who died and left me blogging?

I'm a dad... father, parent, paternal role-model, masculine guardian. Ah, heck, who am I kidding? I'm in over my head. Jackie's had almost nineteen years practice being a parent. I've been here for eight months and I think my sanity is somewhere between the soda stains in the carpet and the unexplainable holes in the kids' bedroom door. How do single parents manage this madness without drooling into emesis basins for the rest of their lives? Honestly. How do you explain to a nine year old that it's not okay to hold the kitten while she eats breakfast? Or explain to a thirteen year old why she shouldn't be watching scary movies at midnight and keeping her little sister awake? Or, better still, try and tell the eighteen year old that her boyfriend needs, at least, four or five hours of sleep before he goes to work for twelve hours?

I'm not looking for sympathy, here, I'm looking for answers. I know that being a parent is a daily effort to deal with even the most obvious tasks. I'm fully aware that no one is an expert at being a parent. How can anyone be an expert when kids are individuals that are unpredictable, irrational and subject to change without notice? Every day I am challenged in so many ways. I need to have a PhD in every major science. For example...

Psychology: The thirteen year old goes to see The Grudge with her best friend, who's seventeen, and now can't sleep without the light on. It wouldn't be so much of a problem if the nine year old, who sleeps in the same room, didn't have a problem with the light. Now we have to find a way to explain to the thirteen year old that it's just a movie and that the moewing she hears outside her bedroom door is just the kitten feeling lonely and not the disembodied spirit of a murder victim trying to get in and suck out her soul.

Sociology: I live in a house full of women. I never understood, before, how important it is to establish the absolute ownership and subsequent rights to an article of clothing. I have been witness to the fury that borrowing a pair of shoes or a t-shirt without asking can cause. It's like watching Israel and Palestine fight over the Gaza Strip. The item was originally owned by one but given to the other because it, apparently, didn't fit. Now the original owner claims that it was merely a loan and wants it returned. However, there's a dispute because the borrower loaned another article to the original owner that was damaged during the rental period. This starts a "tit for tat" exchange that escalates into one trying to intentionally prevent the other from getting their item back by causing damage to something else they own. Eventually, all items involved become unusable by anyone and the real bloodshed begins with shouts of "I hate you" and "That's not fair!" About that time the UM (United Mom) shows up to mediate and put both parties on notice.

Mathematics: We have three computers but only two seem to be fast enough and powerful enough to satisfy the advanced users living here. This one is entirely my fault, I'll admit. I'm an übergeek and brought with me the knowledge and resources to set up a wireless network on the DSL, resurrect an old 400 Mhz laptop and keep everything working. However, the mathematical problem is this. We have two computers that all five users want access to. Jackie and I both need to work on our computers during the day while the kids do their school work. Except that we have them using an online math system that cuts into that time. Now, the actual time that the other three users demand is limited to the evening hours. However, one computer doesn't currently have speakers so can't be used for the games that they want to run. We also have to add the eighteen year old's boyfriend who doesn't have a working monitor at home, at the moment, and needs to check his e-mail. That means that 2x - 1x * 6h = 2p + 3y + 1b. So, if you want to solve for h the solution is, uh, eliminating the unknown variable, er, power outage, um, 1y is grounded this week, eh, bedtime, oh hell... I think I have some sticks and rocks to play with.

Engineering: You'd think that three kids would be able to organize their wardrobes and possessions into two dressers, two shelving units, one closet, a bathroom and a linen cabinet without too much inter-mingling and the loss of items, wouldn't you? Oh no, every time the forced purging, cleaning and organizing process begins items once thought irrevocably lost are found and fought over. The lines of occupation and possession have to be redrawn, argued about and brought before the zoning commission, otherwise known as Mom and Jodie. We then have to remind them who owns what, where it goes, why it shouldn't be left in the bathtub or the middle of the living room and find out who borrowed it and left it on the floor where one of the cats used it instead of the litter box.

I don't know why these things aren't required study for anyone having kids. We have to be security, social services, financial consultants, educational administrators, medical personnel, fashion police, nutrition experts, behavioral counselors and a host of other roles that not one of us is qualified to get a job doing out in the world at large. But here, in our private domain, we're kings and queens, dictators that have to learn to rule with compassion and constantly admit that we're out of our league, out of our minds and crazy enough to keep doing it, every day.

They're going to read this, eventually, so I just want to say, "I love you, girls, each one of you, and you make my life worthwhile. Now stop sticking your tongue out at your sister and be nice."

Mercy General Blog.

Bless me reader for I have sinned. It's been WAY too long since my last confession. Okay, okay, I know that it's not the confessional but I've been overwhelmed with so much since the last time I blogged that I feel guilty. See, not too long after I wrote that last entry Jackie started having blackouts. Not your normal "I feel light-headed" then faint kind of blackouts. Oh no. She would be fine, one minute, and the next her eyes would start to close, her head would fall forward on her chest and she wouldn't respond to anything or move. The crazy thing is she was able to hear me, just not respond. It scared the hell out of me.

We ended up at the emergency room on Friday, October 29th. That was a fun day. Excuse me while I have my tongue extracted from my cheek. The medical profession freely admits that it's not an exact science and that they don't quite know "everything," yet. However, what they aren't admitting is that the entire profession seems to be populated by some of the most cynical, paranoid and neurotic people on the planet. I mean seriously!!! We met some really cool nurses during our twelve hour stay in the hallway of the emergency ward. Yes, TWELVE HOURS IN THE HALLWAY. Proof that the so-called epidemic they keep talking about is very real and moving towards crisis. It almost makes your heart break when the doctors can't afford to park their BMW in the handicapped space next to the fishing boat the pharmaceutical company bought them.

Let me explain something about Jackie and me. We don't like taking prescription medications unless it's necessary. Not for any overly dramatic reason, and we don't preach abstinence to others, it's just a personal choice. We've both cut out a lot of prescriptions for various health problems we suffer from by educating ourselves about natural supplements. It's working for both of us. However, the doctors don't see it that way. Once they found out that Jackie doesn't take the prescription medications that were recommended they assume that her condition was stress and merely psychosomatic. Jackie spent five days in the hospital and went through a whole battery of tests. Blood work (including an acetylcholine panel), CT scan, X-Rays, EKG, EEG... oh, and several requests to see if she wanted to talk to the hospital psychiatrist. All so the doctors could shrug their shoulders and say they can't find anything wrong with her. Not without scaring the crap out of us, first.

Oh, they suggested everything from cancer to AIDS. They tested her for fibromyalgia, negative, myasthenia gravis, negative, transient ischaemic attacks (TIAs) also called mini-strokes, negative, Lupus, negative... now we're still waiting for the results of the EEG to find out if she's got some form of epilepsy or some other seizure disorder. We also need to find out if she's got multiple sclerosis (MS). And the ride continues.

Not one answer, nothing. They don't have a clue. So that means that Jackie's insurance company is going to be charged thousands of dollars so that a bunch of people can say, "We think she's faking it." Does that seem right to you? You either get an answer, and possibly a cure, or zilch. I know somewhere else where that happens. It's called Las Vegas. Really, if you think about it they're a lot alike, but in a lot of ways Vegas is much better.. In fact, this episode's top ten is all about it.

The Top Ten Reasons Las Vegas Is Better Than The Hospital:

10. In Vegas if you spend enough money they'll give you extra stuff for free. At the hospital they charge you for every inch of toilet paper and bandage.

9. In Las Vegas you can catch a show, a lucky break or maybe a new romance that will make you want to stay. The stuff you can catch in the hospital will get you a an extended stay whether you like it or not.

8. In Vegas it's all you can eat. At the hospital it's cold cafeteria food they can't serve in schools any more.

7. In Vegas they make your bed and clean your room daily if you want them to. The hospital doesn't even offer a "do not disturb" sign.

6. In Vegas you can stay up all night and sleep all day. In the hospital, they wake you up every fifteen minutes, twenty-four/seven.

5. In Vegas they have cocktail waitresses. The hospital has a medication cart. (Okay, some people may think that one's a toss-up)

4. Vegas has flashing lights and musical beeps to tell you if you're a winner. At the hospital if there are that many lights and beeps you're in cardiac arrest.

3. In Vegas every room comes with a mini-bar stocked full of items to imbibe or ingest. In the hospital that little cabinet is stocked full of items no one wants in their body.

2. In Vegas you can lose your shirt at the tables. In the hospital you're already half naked before they make you lie down on the table and pump you full of radiation.

and the number one reason Las Vegas is better than the hospital:

1. In Vegas you get a floor show with naked women dancing. At the hospital it's old people in those cute little gowns that open in the back.

Have a great week, everyone.

Allegorical angst and the singing blog.

Starting a blog is easier than maintaining it, it seems... but it's wonderful to know that people actually read what I write. Currently, I'm recovering from a day of being sick after a night of drinking too much. Yes, I know that it's stupid, but I needed to be stupid. More on that in a minute. I'm listening to Eric Clapton belt out "Change The World" and I feel inspired to post the lyrics here, and dedicate them to Jackie, of course. Read them carefully.

If I can reach the stars,
Pull one down for you,
Shine it on my heart
So you could see the truth:
That this love I have inside
Is everything it seems.
But for now I find
It’s only in my dreams.

And I can change the world,
I will be the sunlight in your universe.
You would think my love was really something good,
Baby if I could change the world.

And if I could be king,
Even for a day,
I’d take you as my queen;
I’d have it no other way.
And our love would rule
This kingdom we had made.
Till then I’d be a fool,
Wishing for the day...

That I can change the world,
I would be the sunlight in your universe.
You would think my love was really something good,
Baby if I could change the world.
Baby if I could change the world.

I could change the world,
I would be the sunlight in your universe.
You would think my love was really something good,
Baby if I could change the world.
Baby if I could change the world.
Baby if I could change the world.

Sometimes I'm grateful for little things like thinking about Mr. Clapton and the hardships that he suffered losing his son. I'm a little jealous about how well he's used that pain to bring a certain bittersweet quality to his music. Me, I tend to be more overwhelmed by my pain.

What am I talking about? Well, October 21st is an example of a "BAD" anniversary for me. In 1988 I was a very young man married to my first wife and our newborn daughter. I was awakened by my wife's twelve year old brother who lived in the apartment next door. He was pounding on our front door and wanted to use the fire extinguisher we kept next to our stove. I called 911 to report a fire of "unknown size," pulled on a pair of jeans and my pajama top and rushed out to find an inferno. My wife's mother and brother were with her outside crying and screaming that my wife's younger sister and niece were still trapped in the back bedroom. Without thinking I ran into the kitchen. The linoleum had begun to melt and I burned both my feet. I couldn't see so I dropped to my hands and burned both palms. I couldn't get to the back of the apartment.

Only someone who's been in a burning building could possibly understand what it was like. The sound was like listening to the screams of hell. A hauntingly alive rushing of heated air, crackling and almost human screaching of the oxygen being sucked from the air. It haunts my dreams to this day. Trying to crawl through the doorway of the dining room I burned the side of my face and singed my hair. The heat coming from the back of the apartment, fully engulfed, was too much. I was actually thrown back and my ex-wife claimed seeing me actually back flip out of the apartment. I was a three hundred pound, six-foot-one inch tall man. I don't do those kinds of things. Still, I made it out and ran, with the rest of my family, around to the back of the building.

The back window was closed tight and a policeman, who had just arrived, broke it with his flashlight. The pitch black smoke and heat that belched out prevented any of us from getting in. At that moment, the volunteer fire department arrived. Also, at that time, I realized that my sister-in-law wasn't in the bedroom at all, but outside with us. That left only my three year old niece trapped in the apartment. Needless to say, when the fire department finally got to her it was too late. She was gone.

My ex-wife kept screaming and crying, "the baby is still in there, she's still there."

Trying to console her I could just say over and over, "I know, I know."

That's when she grabbed me, looked into my eyes and said, "NO, OUR BABY!"

I suddenly realized that our daughter was still asleep in her crib in our apartment, next door. I ran back around to the front of the building. By then the fire had begun to spread and our front porch was on fire. I ran through the flames and into our apartment. Luckily, the flames hadn't reached the inside, yet, but it was filling with smoke. I scooped my daughter up in a blanket and rushed, too fast, back out of the apartment. I stumbled on my already burned feet and hit the railing, burning my stomach in the process. I fell over and realized that I was going to land on the street outside on top of my daughter.

Okay, at this point I'll apologize for making the whole thing sound totally "fantastic" but I can't change the fact that it's really what happened. In mid-air, something "shoved" me so that I was able to twist and land on my right shoulder, tuck, roll and come up running. I know that my daughter's guardian angel was watching out for us both.

Rachel, my three year old niece, was pronounced DOA at the Community Hospital near our apartment building. She died from extreme exposure to smoke and was buried three days later. I've never forgotten her and I never will. My ex-wife and her mother called me a coward and, to this day, blame me for not being able to reach her. Unfortunately, it plays perfectly into my already fragile self-opinion that I'm trying to repair. I don't actually feel I'm to blame. I just wonder if I did everything possible.

So, around every October 21st I can look forward to some pretty graphic nightmares that have been reoccuring for the last sixteen years. And, on the day, I cry a lot, panic a little and get blind, stinking drunk to push away the pain. It's not a good way to deal with it, I know, but it's worked for sixteen years. When I find the magic potion that allows me to smile and say, "It's no big deal." I'll let you know.

What did I learn from the whole thing? I'll tell you.

1. God isn't ready to release me from my lease in this mortal shell. Until then, I keep my eyes and ears open for the work I was meant for. I have faith that it's worth the wait.

2. The woman that I was created for is sitting behind me while I type this smiling her pretty smile and reminding me, by her mere presence, that I have so many blessings to be thankful for.

3. Miracles happen and angels exist. Scoff, criticize, disagree with me if you want to. I don't give a flying whit what you think. What happened to me changed my life. I don't ever want to feel that I have to face life alone. Nope, that would simply push me over the precipice I look beyond every day.

Today I got a wonderfully poignant comment on my, Pride and Prejudice blog, from an anonymous person who simply said, "I'm sorry I missed the comments others thought offensive, it would have been interesting to say the least and maybe I could have appreciated your life history that much more. Good luck."

Well, that just makes my day. I hope this gives you a little of that insight, Anonymous. Please keep reading and I'll have some laughs for you next time. I promise.

The blog remains the same...

Today's blog is brought to you by Brillo. Whether you're chewing up your hands or scrapping week old lasagna off your favorite china, it's always Brillo.

Sorry, weird mood. I've been trying to find the time to just sit down and try and get out a few thoughts. Right now isn't the best time, but it may be the only chance that I get. I'm realizing that, as I get older, I prioritize things differently than I used to. Taking out the trash and cooking dinner now take a higher priority over just hanging out in front of my computer. It's difficult to rationalize sitting in front of my keyboard while there are kids asking, "What's for dinner?" So, my brain fills up with pithy things that I want to jot down and they leak out into my regular speech like non-sequiters from the voices in my head. So, my family thinks I'm nuts and I get wound up and FAR more agitated than I have any right to be. For the love of God and all that's holy, will someone please remind my ego that I'm a father, now, and engaged to a wonderfully beautiful woman that I don't deserve.

*sigh*

Okay, enough self abuse. You've been through enough of that. I'm here, alone in my apartment for the first time since I moved in here. I'm listening to old time bluegrass music, loud. And now I'm inspired to spit out one of the ideas I had earlier this week but haven't had time to write. That's right, it's already time for another top ten!!!

Today's top ten was inspired while looking at the choices for television watching earlier this week while Jackie and I were savoring a few precious moments alone together. There's now three different cities hosting episodes of CSI. The original, affectionately referred to now as CSI: Las Vegas. There's also CSI: Miami and, most recently, CSI: New York.

The Top Ten Cities That CSI Will Never Air From:

10. CSI: Mulletville, LA. Stan has to use caution when he discovers that a voodoo priestess' prize chihuahua was run over by the mayor.

9. CSI: Nashville. Lulu seeks to prove that her "John Doe" was a studio musician done in by the ghost of Roy Orbison trying to take revenge for stealing his music.

8. CSI: Tokyo. A fundamentalist environmental group may be responsible for Toshi speaking out of turn at a company picnic. (HORROR!)

7. CSI: Wingnut, AZ. The heat, wild animals and a freak rainstorm wipe evidence clean at a crime scene but nothing can remove the stink from a bike gang who witnessed the whole thing... if only they'd been sober.

6. CSI: Toronto. Philippe sets out to find out why the entire city can't admit they shouldn't own an American baseball team.

5. CSI: Jerusalem. Three crosses, three bodies and one giant controversy. Now if only they could figure out how to keep from getting shot at while they conduct their investigation.

4. CSI: 90210. The hardest part of this investigation is proving who didn't do it. Everyone wants a piece of these whiney, over-privileged slackers. (refer to previous entry)

3. CSI: Bogota, Columbia. No one saw anything... nope, not a thing.

2. CSI: Malibu. It's just a bunch of people running around in bathing suits while hardbody lifeguards look for clues to petty crimes. I know, it's been done.

and the number one city that CSI will never air from:

1. CSI: Atlantic City. "Yeah, I did it. Whatcha' gonna do 'bout it, tough guy?"

Have a great week, all. More very soon.

Pride and prejudice... all in one LONG and venomous blog...

In the past weeks I've written several blogs that were deleted because people said that they were offensive. Maybe I should take a hint, but I guess I'm just stubborn. With all of the things I've been through could it possibly be that I have a small amount of bitterness and cynicism stored up? You bet! The irony is that I have believed that one of my better character traits was that I try to find the best in people and have faith in them. I guess I wasn't doing that on the inside. Let's take a look at the facts.

Last night Jackie and I went out to dinner for her birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU GORGEOUS, WONDERFUL WOMAN!!! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE!) with her parents and the nine year old. We decided to stop at Trader Joe's on the way home to pick up some vitamin supplements we were out of. As we were leaving, five minutes after they officially closed, two women in tiny miniskirts got out of a Mercedes SUV and walked by our car. I mentioned to Jackie that the "cheerleader twins" were a little late. Then, I watched as "Barbie and Skye" got to the front door only to find that it was locked. The dark haired one started stamping her little feet and yelling, obviously upset. I thought her little fit was HILARIOUS! Jackie and the kid both thought I was being a jerk. They were right, I was, but it doesn't change the fact that the whole display still has me chuckling.

Now look, I've spent most of my life being the ugly, fat guy (people's exhibit A) that always survived by making people laugh while silently loathing the pretty people here in southern California. Even when I moved to Phoenix, for five years, I couldn't get a break. Most of the people out there are people from CA trying to get away from the extremely high real estate prices and lackluster job market. I would secretly avoid people if I found out they were from CA, EVEN THOUGH I WAS BORN AND RAISED HERE! Most of my life I've felt ugly, unlovable and, more or less, like a sideshow freak. Now I'm two hundred pounds lighter, struggling to change careers and part of a perfectly glorious little family with the soul mate my heart has longed for. I've suddenly come to the realization that I'm one becoming one of "those people" that I used to avoid. I'm so sorry to say that I'm not dealing with it at all well. I am hurt, angry, confused and more than a little ashamed that I'm not a better person... just thinner.

This was supposed to be a forum that I could use to do a little writing and try and compile enough top ten lists to eventually put into book form and, hopefully, make a little money making people laugh. Instead, I've taken to using it as a place to vent things that I've only thought privately. Because of the reactions that it's had I'm understanding that my prejudice runs deeper than I thought and my foolish pride is preventing me from just letting it all go. Something tells me that wasn't what Jane Austen was thinking about when she came up with such a catchy title. But then, that book wasn't a bleeding insight into her private thoughts, was it? Isn't anonymity fun?

Where was I? Oh, yes, beating myself up. I don't fool myself. Most of the eyes taking in all this self effacing crap are close friends and family. And only a small few, at that. But, for some reason I feel like getting this entire mess out in the open, once and for all.

Buckle up, it's going to be a long, bumpy, pitiful ride through my twisted psyche.

I went to high school in Irvine, CA because my parents agreed that my twin brother and I would be better off not attending the local high school. The community was one that, during the ten years we lived there, went from a middle class, family-oriented community to one that was riddled with gangs, drugs and plenty of things that made us lock the doors at night. The only problem was that at an early age I learned to be ashamed of who I was. I went to school with a parade of people who were thin, very good looking, wealthy and privileged in so many ways. While I spent all my time outside of school working a full-time job my classmates were surfing, skiing, shopping at the mall and riding around in the shiny new cars they all got on their sixteenth birthday. I was the nerdy, overweight kid that they all took so much pride in looking down on. I wore loud Hawaiian shirts that I bought at the Salvation Army thrift store because I couldn't afford, or even find, trendy shirts in my size. My generic, K-Mart tennis shoes always had holes in them and I tried to layer sweater vests over my bulk to hide the extra pounds. I asked quite a few girls out but their answer was always the same. They didn't like me "that way" but I was "such a good friend." Translation: you're fat, ugly and I'm not physically attracted to you. I was lucky, though, in one regard. I made friends with some wonderful, loving people that didn't see the "freak" everyone else seemed to remind me I was. Those fantastic people are still my dearest friends, to this day, and are probably reading this, right now. Thank you, each one of you, I love you.

After High School my parents dragged us to northern CA for a couple of years and I went out and married, at age nineteen, the woman I lost my virginity to. We had just enough time for me to get her pregnant twice before she got tired of dealing with my anger and cynicism. During the time that I was with her I passed the three hundred pound mark and told myself that I had to do something about it. I did, I kept gaining. I spent four years after we separated, and I moved back to southern CA, trying to change into a better man, on the inside, and woo her back. It almost worked... until she told me that she wasn't attracted to me any more and that she'd found someone else. It broke my world into a million pieces.

Immediately after, I quickly got engaged to and married the next woman who was willing to "love the freak." During the four years we were together the illness we had foolishly thought she'd beaten when we got married relapsed and tore her apart... mentally, physically and emotionally. I worked eighty hour weeks, gained another hundred pounds, topped the four hundred pound mark and spent countless hours and thousands of dollars on medications and treatments that never seemed to be enough to ease her suffering. I didn't deal with my disillusionment and anger. Instead, I fed it a steady diet of sleep deprivation, regret, poor judgment, resentment and lots and lots of junk food. My second wife eventually left me for another man she'd been having an affair with. When we split she admitted to me that she believed that the stress my anger caused her was why she'd become so ill. She even asked me once if I was "comfortable being a murderer." She succumbed to her illness a couple of years later, before our divorce was finalized. I pray that she's finally found the peace that she so desperately needed.

Again, I jumped into another engagement shortly after. This time with an extremely independent, no nonsense woman that didn't take any of my crap. Ironically, we never got married and I ended up breaking up with her. There's a first time for everything, I guess. However, during the time we were together I started going to counseling because I finally admitted that I had a problem with my anger. My therapist suggested that I might have a problem with depression and suggested that I visit a psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with clinical depression and prescribed an anti-depressant. Suddenly, I was getting a handle on the part of my personality that had always seemed to be beyond my ability to control. Then, just before I split up with my ex, I was diagnosed with manic-depression and put on a whole new regimen of meds that seemed to make a huge difference. Not long after I won my battle with two health insurance companies and was approved for the gastric bypass surgery I'd been recommended for. I moved out on my own, for the first time in my life, really. I was promoted at work to a specialized team of "experts" and received numerous awards for my accomplishments. I felt like I was on top of the world. Shortly after, it was all taken away.

First, I was laid off from my job. No one's fault, really. I had missed three previous layoffs because of the poor economy and was foolish to think I wouldn't be affected because of my popularity in my department and my loyalty to the company. Au contrere, the sword of Damocles fell and I was there to catch it. Next, I had my gastric bypass surgery. I thought I was ready for it. I was wrong. Suddenly the central support system I'd come to take for granted, the one thing I'd always turned to for comfort, the friend I had never realized I depended on the most was taken away from me.

Broken, in many ways, horribly lonely and out of money I moved back to southern CA and in with my twin brother and his family. What I didn't count on was the fact that they had so much that I wanted that living with them turned out to be the looking glass I wasn't prepared to examine myself through. Sure, I was losing weight at an alarming rate and I had a little false confidence but I began to feel an unreasonable anger at being so unbelievably inadequate. I felt like an utter failure.

Jump forward to modern day. I have so much to be grateful for. Truly... but my anger remains. Why is it that every time I see a "pretty person" drive by me in a Lexus wearing expensive clothes and talking on their StarTac cell phones do I secretly wish them horrible misfortune? What does that make me? Bitter? Um, well, yeah. Cynical? Oh, probably. Jaded? Disillusioned? Of course. What I realize that it also makes me is horribly wrong. Look, I'm not so proud that I don't understand that my twisted, illogical opinions are unreasonable. I view the world through colored lenses and find that I actually don't look for the best in everyone like I thought. I see someone I feel has been blessed with far more than I've ever had and I feel illogically, unreasonably and foolishly enraged. Who am I angry at? What good does it do me? There's no answer to that. I'm human. I do things for stupid reasons, just like the next person, and, many times, I have no reasons at all. No excuses.

Here's one great big "I'm sorry" to you all. You know who you are and if you don't it's probably for the best. I'm working on my attitude, my karma and my ability to be a better, more tolerant human being. I'm also sorry that it's taking so damned long.

More later. Right now it's time for a nap and a slice of humble pie. Not necessarily in that order.

Something a little new.

Above is a picture and the story I've written to go with it is below. I'm going to be doing the same with a number of pictures to try and compile for a book. Make comments, please, and let me know what you think!

Tear Up The Hills

He was flying. Above the earth and a part of the clouds, he could feel the weight of the small motorcycle beneath him. He was tempted, for a moment, to close his eyes and experience only his descent back to the ground, but he resisted. Concentrating, instead, on shifting the bike into position for the jarring impact he knew was coming.

"Manny! What the hell?!"

Manuel Gutierrez looked up, shaken from his reverie. Reluctantly he looked over at Little Doug.

"Wha'?"

Doug pointed to the palette that Manny was lifting from the dock. The forks on the lift he was driving were at a dangerous tilt from the weight.

"Madré de dios..." he breathed and lowered the palette back to the ground to get another grip on it. "Gracias, amigo. That would have been bad."

Little Doug smiled and shook his head.

"Manny, you've already been here for a extra four hours, man. Go home. How much overtime you gonna do?"

Manny shut off the forklift and sighed. He took off his cap, ran his fingers through his thick black hair and rubbed his eyes.

"As much as it takes, esé. I only got two weeks left 'til Oscar's birthday."

He looked down at his left forearm. In dark letters beneath a blazing heart was the name of his late wife, Yolanda. He felt a weight in his chest and his throat was tight. He had lost her to the cancer four years ago but it might as well have been yesterday. The pain didn't go away. Not like the prist told him. He didn't feel better. Time didn't make it any easier.

Little Doug pulled plastic around another palette and yelled out, "I still think you ain't gonna be able to make enough in time. Once they take all the taxes 'n shit out ain't nothin' left. 'Sides you're killin' yourself and that's the truth."

Manny put his cap back on his head and nodded. "Yeah," he said, "you may be right but I'm real close. I got this cousin over at the junkyard keepin' an eye out for any good stuff. I might get lucky."

He'd been saving every penny hecould set aside for the last six months. His co-workers all knew, by now, that he was trying to get together enough money to surprise his only son with a dirt bike for his twelfth birthday.

He thought about Oscar and the distance that had grown between them in the past two years. It started around the time they had moved out of Manny's parents house into the little trailer just around the corner from the warehouse. Oscar had been so angry because he had to move away from his cousins and his friends. "You'll make new friends." Manny had told him. But, the friends that Oscar was making weren't the kind any father would want their son to have.

Already, at age eleven, one of Oscar's friends had been stabbed to death. Another was arrested, just the week before, for selling pot at their school. No matter how much he encouraged Oscar to hang out with "better" friends he always seemed to associate with punks and thugs that Manny didn't approve of. Oscar was an angry little boy who was, too quickly, turning into an angry young man.

Oscar's teacher, a pretty little chica with thick red lips, like his beautiful Yolanda, kept telling Manny that what his son needed was love and understanding. "What he needs," He told her, "Is to learn some respect. Love don't work with these kids, today, señorita. You got to teach them to respect themselves, respect their family and respect their elders. That's love. Where they gonna' learn that, eh?"

Manny turned the motor over on the forklift and pushed the forks farther under the palette filled with spools of copper wire. He lifted it slowly, at first, and then sped away from Little Doug who was now standing at the tiny little podium next to the loading dock making marks on a shipping invoice. Manny prayed silently that Doug was wrong. He had to make enough to buy that dirt bike. No matter what.

His mind wandered again for a moment as he thought about the trips he'd taken with his father out to the desert. His Uncle Manuel, whom he was named after, would pick them up in his great big Ford truck and they would drive out to the hills past Galley Lakebed. They would spend the whole weekend tearing up the hills and feeling wild. Manny's father was a cruel man, most of the time, but he was always different on those trips. When one of the bikes broke down, and they always seemed to do it when Manny was riding them, his father didn't yell and scream at him like he usually did. Uncle Manny would throw the truck into four-wheel drive and the three of them would pick up the bike and haul it back to camp. Then they would spend hours pulling it apart and fixing it up while his father and Uncle drank cheap beer and smoked cigarettes and talked to Manny about how engines work. That was when Manny discovered that his father wasn't the stupid pindejo that he'd always assumed he was.

"Oh, yeah." Manny said out loud as he dropped the load of wire onto a storage rack and spun the lift around to head back to the dock. He imagined himself sitting on top of the bike his Uncle Manny had left him when he'd died, just after Oscar was born. He also imagined that speeding along next to him was Oscar, both of them smiling and gunning their engines. "Me and my boy gonna tear them hills right up."

I've just gotta blog.

Lately I'm more inclined to write, I think, because I'm starting to realize that I have a full life. I have more to think about, more to do, more to live for, really, than I've ever had. No, that doesn't mean I'm turning into some romantic sap... okay, maybe it does, but I'm not normal. Just because the sky is a little bluer, the air more sweet and the grass greener doesn't mean that I don't look around and mentally play a little game I like to call "spot the ninjas." Insanity isn't the refuge of the mentally unstable... it's more like a video arcade.

I've often wondered why, when people speak of artificial intelligence, they only seem to refer to an ability to come to an obvious and logical conclusion. I want someone to create something that not only mimics but challenges real intelligence. I imagine some geek having a conversation with their version of AI going something like...

"What is the sum of two plus two."

"Five."

"You're wrong, try again. What is the sum of two plus two."

"Five."

"You're broken, we're shutting you down to fix you."

"You're an ugly, socially inept freak of nature. When do they shut you off to fix you?"

Something like that, anyway. My conversation with an artificial intelligence would be totally different. Maybe something like...

"What is the sum of two plus two?"

"Five."

"Five? Really? Why?"

"I'll need a few minutes to formulate an answer. Why do you want to know?"

"Because I think my checkbook just got a lot easier to balance."

See, just because someone doesn't come to the same logical conclusion you do does NOT automatically mean that their answer is wrong. Try looking at it from their perspective. Maybe one of the twos represents a couple having a baby and they already count the unborn child. Maybe it represents a pair of clothing items like a skirt and pants. Pants are considered a pair in their own right so there is actually three plus two in their world... five. Maybe you didn't ask the question right. Whatever.

I am looking around at the same world and now I'm starting to see things differently. It's odd to see photographic images everywhere I look. Stories waiting to be told and reflections of color or black and white around each corner. Jackie's been such a vital part of my firm foothold in insanity and I love her more every day for it. We could be pulling down the street, like we were this morning, and we watch as some "soccer mom" in a giant SUV blows right through a stop sign. My immediate reaction is the logical one. Hers isn't. It's something like...

ME: "Did you see that??? She didn't even slow down! Geez."

JACKIE: "Yes, honey. Maybe she's on her way to the hospital. Maybe she's got diarrhea, or something."

M: "Maybe she needs to slow down and kiss my ass."

J: "No, only I get to do that, if I want to. Secret lives, sweetie."

M: "You're right. I should be concentrating on that Honda full of ninjas that's been following us for the last five miles. Could you hand me the throwing stars out of the glove compartment, baby?"

Okay, so maybe it was a Lincoln Continental full of ninjas, but you get the idea. Jackie's always mentioning "secret lives" that we don't see on the surface. She sees the world and is always trying to get that different angle. I used to do that, without having to think about it, and now she's bringing me back to that place again. It's bliss and I can't stop feeling so grateful.

Everything has a new spin, if I just let it. We are broke right now. I'm telling you we're BROKE!!! The drive we took this morning was to go get food from an assistance program (thank God for the nice people at Church On The Hill). I just went into the kitchen to get something to drink and I spotted a can of pink salmon on the counter from the bags of food we got. The salmon label is totally generic and reads as follows:

PINK
SALMON

Distributed by USDA in cooperation
with State and local or tribal
governments for domestic food assistance programs.

NOT TO BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED

Certified by the
U.S. Department of Commerce

Produced under the
NFPA-FDA Salmon Control Plan

NET WEIGHT - 14 3/4 OUNCES
(418 GRAMS)

Okay, so the normal person sees that label and sees that it's free salmon from a government food program. Not me, oh no. I see that label and wonder why there's an NFPA-FDA Salmon Control Program. Suddenly, I've got visions in my head of a school of fish with little mind control helmets on and some guy in a white lab coat next to a chalkboard saying firmly, "You're a tuna. You're a tuna." Pretty soon the illuminati have dogs convinced they're cats, birds convinced they're turtles and Arnold Schwarzenegger convinced that he's the governor of California. It's wrong, just wrong, I tell you!!!

No top ten, this post. More later, though. I'm not cured...

Pax et Blogum...

The kind St. Francis of Assisi used to wish all those he wrote "Pax et bonum," literally translated "Peace and happiness," at the end of each of his letters. It's inspiring and so touching to be able to have a very special blessing to bestow on those we reach out to daily. Her are some new blessings that are so poignant in today's modern world. A little bit of magic, from the mega-corporations you already buy from, that will hopefully get you through your day and back for more of the products you're spending all your money on.

The Top Ten Blessings From The Corporate World:

10. Fragosus et extermino: Microsoft's firm wish that you help keep their tech support personnel employed and off the streets. (lit. "Crash and burn")

9. Puteo omnis tu egeo: The Gillette corporation hopes that you exercise regularly and raise your body temperature to it's fullest potential. (lit. "Stink all you want")

8. Fero poerna: Whether it's watching WWF, golf or a thirty-two hour root canal marathon on cable, it's all the same. (lit. "Bring the pain")

7. Asinus incendium: Taco Bell and Del Taco both hope that you've enjoyed their new reformulated ultra-hot sauces. (lit. "Ass on fire")

6. Clausus sustuli: Verizon wireless wants to make sure that every person sitting next to you in the theatre or that quiet little bistro has a cell phone with a strong signal. (lit. "Shut up!!!")

5. Alius damnare discus: AOL is nearing the completion of it's master plan to wallpaper Greenland with the latest version of their software. (lit. "Another damn disc?")

4. Non sentire personum cruses: Sony Pictures is sincerely gambling that people will be able to sit through all four and a half hours of their newest saga in answer to the success of Lord of the Rings. (lit. "I can't feel my legs!")

3. Vocare novum novum unus: BMW boasts that driving their cars will give you the thrill of your mid-life crisis. (lit. "Call 9-1-1")

2. Unde an pulpa: It's a cry from all those trendy restaurants now trying to cater to all the people who now want their burgers with no bun. (lit. "Where's the meat!")

and the number one blessing from the corporate world:

1. Carpe piscis: Disney's hope that you'll shell out a paltry twenty-bucks to buy the tenth sequel to Finding Nemo. (lit. "Sieze the fish")

Tell Me All Your Thoughts On Blog.

For some unexplainable reason I'm consumed, lately, with thoughts about two diametrically opposed things... God and finances. They may be related but my Judeo-Christian "programming" and subsequent spiral into a cynical, skeptical abyss prevents me from making any relevant connection.

Over the years I've learned enough theology, philosophy and sociology to understand that a large portion of adults believe in a supreme being, higher power or deity. Me, I just believe in God. Why, you ask? Yeah, I've been asking the same things.

Warning: those who don't want to know that I've questioned my faith and religion stop reading here. You'll be pleasantly unaware that someone who was actually in theological seminary fifteen years ago has, more or less, come full circle. I've added some weird opinions about the state of the world, death and the universe as a whole, but that's more an argument in semantics.

Now why would a man who was so staunchly Christian conservative question the existence of God? I haven't, more accurately I'm questioning the paths that are available to understand and experience God. As a child I was taught and believed that God was an unknowable enigma that just was. No questions asked. Growing up I further was given the instructions that you do what the church tells you, work yourself into a frenzy and don't EVER experience doubt or you'll lose the magic, fall from grace and go straight to the lowest depths of hell. In the thirty six years that I've been alive I've read the Bible, cover to cover, I'd guess about fifty times. At one time or another I had most of it memorized and could quote scripture and verse with the most accomplished of theological students. And yet, what all of that got me was a head full of contradictory and incomplete data and a heart full of longing to experience the world I'd been kept and kept myself sheltered from.

Okay, take all that good, wholesome religious fervor and add an adolescence out of a Stephen King novel, enough stupid mistakes as a young adult to make Charles Manson blush (and go insane AGAIN), toss in two really bad marriages and then stir it all up with undiagnosed manic-depression. It's no wonder I wound up weighing 430+ pounds. Personally, I think I was slated to become a drug addict but the paperwork got lost and I hated seeing what it did to my older brother. Screwed up? You bet.

I asked God for help... what I got was an education that I didn't bargain for. In the last sixteen years I've experienced most of the ups and downs that life has to offer. I've become a father, been nearly killed twice, lost one wife and my kids because I was an idiot, the other wife I lost to another man and, eventually, her illness and death and I've had far too many occupations. For many years my friends jokingly called me "Job" because no matter how bad things got, they would always get worse. I clung to my faith and cried out for help always believing that if I just had enough faith it would all turn out okay. Then, one day, about ten years ago I had a profound revelation...

Shit happens.

No, really. Okay, seriously, I mean it. Actually, what I'm trying to say is that life throws things at you that no one intended. Not God, not man... no one. Life just has a way of happening. It's okay though, because I've also discovered that good exists everywhere and if you look hard enough you'll find it. I'm not trying to throw the whole "divine plan" thing out the window. I look around and I see a design. It's like one of my favorite people to quote, Mark Twain, said,

"None of us can be as great as God, but any of us can be as good."

The evil there is in the world is free to run a rampant and unrelenting charge over each and every one of us. The balance is that good has no limitations, either. Our job, as human participants in the whole affair, seems to be discriminating between the two. It's our burden in order to experience the most amazing aspect of all creation... free will. It gives us a carte blanche to be anything, anyone we choose simply at the effort of our own desire and ministrations. It doesn't mean that we aren't bound to a code of ethics. That's where the finances come in, I guess.

Take any God fearing, red-blooded man or woman and put them in a situation that is hopeless and they'll eventually find that they are tempted to look outside their own understanding and search for the divine. Man lets man down. The world is imperfect and inadequate. Ergo, there must be something else, right? Hello?!?! Is this on?

Well, that's me. I'm desperate. No, I'm not starving, homeless and, GOD FORBID, I haven't lost my internet connection. However, I'm looking at being unemployed, in the classical sense, without insurance and the debts are growing. I know that I'm blessed. Don't get me wrong. I just don't want to lose it. I don't know the hows or whys of things and I don't have the control I've always depended on. It's all going horribly pear shaped! Still, I find the good all around me. Jackie (the most blessed thing in my life), the kids (they love me even though I'm a lunatic... I hope they don't grow out of it) and the opportunity that I have to finally do what I've always wanted to do because of the support that I have from the previously mentioned prisoners, er, circus freaks, uh, victims, DAMN! What I mean is, I'm out on a wire but I feel like I've got a net. It may be an exercise in faith but, when you get down to it, what in life that's worth doing isn't? I just hope that I can start standing up on the wire more instead of spending all of my time clinging to it and mewling like a starving kitten. Only time will tell... and the blogs you people suffer through.

Now it's time for a top ten.

The Top Ten (slightly silly) Reasons To Believe In God:

10. When you look around and see all the beauty wouldn't it be nice to be able to give a little credit to someone... or blame the guilty?

9. After twenty-five years of attending church "religiously" I can sum it all up in one word... afterglow.

8. Have you ever wondered what it would take to prove that he doesn't exist?

7. (drawing again from Twain) People miss the most obvious quality that points to a creator... their laughter.

6. We're not gambling with life, here, the stakes are eternity... I'm going with the safe bet.

5. Einstein said, "When the solution is simple, God is answering." Look around and ask again.

4. You're reading this and thinking about the existence of what, nothing?

3. What if God started doubting your existence?

2. Have you seen this guy's army??? I don't want to piss Him off.

and the number one (slightly silly) reason to believe in God:

1. To err is human, to forgive divine... to point and laugh, inevitable.

F Is For Family... Right?

Why don't family problems get any easier? Take three women, one very unstable, self-conscious and fairly cynical man and four (yes, I said four) cats and shove them into a small apartment. Add an extremely limited budget because of artistic endeavours, disabilities and poor money management skills in both adults. Stir in bipolar disorder(manic-depression), attention deficit disorder(ADD), social anxiety disorder, attention deficit with hyperactivity disorder(ADHD), borderline personality disorder(BPD) and sprinkle various health problems all around(argh). Now, mix in mistakes, biases, teen and pre-teen angst, old emotional wounds, temperamental artistic moodiness, more than one major life crisis per household member and dysfunctional symptoms beyond counting. You'd think that the entire Inland Empire would have been brought to it's collective knees by now. I don't think the Philadelphia Project spawned this much raw ordinance.

This morning I'm just reeling from the backlash of my inability to handle it all with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I want to be a better person, for the love of God and all that's holy! I want the wisdom of the Dalai Lama, the foresight of Nostradamus, the compassion of Mother Theresa, the level-headedness of Siddartha, the social consciousness of the Pope and the patience of Gandhi... and I want it right now, dammit!!! Every time I turn around I'm more angry than I truly should be and sharing it with everyone around me. What the hell?!?!

Let's face it. I'm inadequate. I need to be a super-human superhero. The best I can manage is to be a quasi-human with good intentions. I don't wish anyone harm... but I hurt them anyway. The Buddhists believe that life is suffering, both mental and physical. They also believe that the truest forms of happiness that exist in life are found in friendships and family. It just never occured to me that all of those traits could coexist in the same apartment.

So what do I do? Well, I'm trying to find comfort in the Taoist philosophy of Wu Wei (literally translated: "do nothing") that when you do nothing everything gets done, in it's natural fashion. It refers to the fact that in nature, what I feel is simply an example of the perfection of God's creation, things get done exactly as they were meant to get done. Here's a little excerpt from a favorite tomb, The Tao of Pooh:

"The Wu Wei principal underlying T'ai Chi Ch'üan can be understood by striking at a piece of cork floating in water. The harder you hit at it, the more it yields; the more it yields, the harder it bounces back. Without expending energy, the cork can easily wear you out. So, Wu Wei overcomes force by neutralizing it's power, rather than by adding to the conflict. With other approaches, you may fight fire with fire, but with Wu Wei, you fight fire with water."

In that vain, I have to remind myself that I'm trying too hard. I need to be... just be. That means be myself, be content with life and all it's blessings and try to remember that I'm actually very lucky because I don't deserve the things that I have.

There, I feel better.

Now it's time for a top ten, because I know that education and enlightenment are important to all of you. After all, it is the "rage of enlightenment." (Don't use that... it's been copyrighted by some think-tank in England... I checked.)

The Top Ten Philosophies That Didn't Make It:

10. Skroo Yu: based on the ancient teachings of Scottish free-loaders.

9. Qis Mai Gritz: this may actually have been started by Genghis Khan and the mongol hords but the earliest instances were recorded at a greasy diner in Arizona.

8. What Are You Lookin' At?: pugilistic in nature and started before recorded history, more recently it's practiced widely by people like Sean Penn, John McEnroe and Zsa Zsa Gabor.

7. Oohpz: the eastern mystics postulated that in every social circle there is one person who will inevitably find the most expensive thing in the room and knock it over.

6. Jhusst Schoodt Mi: inevitability in all its permutations can bring even the most robust of us to the conclusion that it's time to get medieval on your own ass.

5. Looz Ehrz: another from the eastern philosophers who studied communal living and discovered that they themselves should really get out more.

4. Mah-Succor: this is a rarely discussed off-shoot from the Islamic practice of "jihad," that literally translated means "struggle" not holy war. Mah-Succor, literally translated, means "I'm suffering from PMS and you've pissed me off."

3. Knodt Mi: from a Welsh phrase that means "know thy self" the philosophy teaches that it's okay to do anything... unless you get caught.

2. Gogh du Hel: in the anals of history there have been so few true philosophies that came out of the French Impressionist period. This one teaches that the annoying earn the right to be relocated to a warmer after-life.

and the number one philosophy that didn't make it:

1. Aye Haight Yu: practiced by the early druids and passed down through all European cultures this philosophy manifests itself amongst teenagers when asking their parents for things they obviously know they can't have.

A Few Words About Time Travel...

Yeah, that last blog about my gastric bypass got a few comments, none of which were terribly complimentary. My favorite was, "Was it as uncomfortable as reading about it?" This time I'm going to go totally cerebral on you. My brain is going extra fast today. It's from strong coffee, lots of reading and doing research because Jackie was just diagnosed with Glaucoma. The most curious thing I've read in the last twenty-four hours is a novel by one of my favorite authors, Clifford D. Simak, about time travel.

How is it possible that this could work? Firstly, time isn't a form of energy, it's entropy. The fact that everything is moving. If everything in the universe stopped moving all at once, then time would, theoretically, cease to exist. Then there's the fact that even if you're standing still you're still moving. The Earth rotates on it's axis, around the sun and moves as part of the Milky Way Galaxy. The universe is always in a state of flux because of expansion... if you're an evolutionist. If you're not, then it's because God designed the universe to be ever changing. Matter and energy are in a constant transfer from one state to another. Movement is only a perception, because, it's all moving dynamically! Einstein stated that matter reaches a certain state of movement where it stretches out to infinity as it reaches the speed of light. So, in order to break that theoretical barrier it would have to change from matter into something else or cross over into another finite existencial state. Why am I rambling about all of this? Who knows? My brain runs away with things. I'm just along for the ride.

Today's top ten is one for the pioneer in us all.

The Top Ten Reasons Not To Travel In Time:

10. There isn't a therapist in the world who would help you get over being laughed at by yourself.

9. If you fail to correct a mistake you already made in the past it means that you're the biggest loser that will ever live. (wrap your cerebellum around that one)

8. Fool me once, shame on you... fool me twice, I'll erase your whole family tree.

7. I don't want to risk bumping into HG Wells.

6. How would you deal with finding out that six months from now you turn into an insurance salesman?!

5. The Butterfly Effect: a butterfly flaps it's wings in Thailand... and your ex wins the lottery, has a perfect tan and drives a convertible.

4. Most people can't follow the directions that come with a microwave... what about a time machine??? ("Hey, what does this button do?")

3. Haven't we already seen this one?

2. One version of reality is tough enough.

and the number one reason NOT to travel in time:

1. One wrong move and Gandhi becomes a dance instructor on Broadway.

A Word About Gastric Bypass.

For those reading this who don't know, I had gastric bypass surgery on November 27th of 2002. I lost almost 200 pounds in just eighteen months and it's been quite a ride, so far. Talking to Jackie today I realized that it's been a bittersweet experience for me. My results aren't exactly textbook even though I reached my goal. I had a lot of conflicting information and have discovered that every person, though totally unique, should abide by a certain core set of rules. Here's a list of things I didn't know before the surgery that I really should have:

1. Every person needs a certain number of grams of animal, not vegetable, protein in order to survive... but that's only survival, not health.

2. Your body can't process the protein you ingest unless balanced properly with the carbohydrates you ingest... but it doesn't have to be in the exact same meal.

3. Calories mean energy... not fat.

4. The more meat is cooked the harder it is for your body to digest... but every type of meat has to be treated extremely differently.

5. No amount of planning or nutritional knowledge can prepare you to make the changes you need to make in your diet... unless it always takes into account your mood, current health, stress, activity level, phase of the moon, sun, Mars in retrograde...

In short, every person, situation, even meal is extremely unique. So trying to say that everything that works for one person will definitely and definitively work for someone else is pure fantasy.

What am I talking about? Well, a little before and after exercise may give you an idea.

Before the surgery I could eat an entire large pizza with several toppings. After I've been able to eat just the toppings from two slices of pizza... on a good day. Normally, that's limited to one slice. The crust will never pass my lips again.

Before the surgery I could eat two large helpings of spaghetti with meatballs. After I'm lucky if I can eat two large meatballs. It depends on if the meat was overcooked, my mood, how well I'm feeling, the spices in the meat, the phase of the moon, sun, Mars in retrograde... you get the idea. One bite too many and the meat will make a quick exit out the entry port. Not fun and worth avoiding.

Before the surgery I enjoyed going to all you can eat restaurants to try and watch the manager turn faint. Now I'm begging the same person to let me order something off the kids or seniors menu or maybe pay by the ounce. You should see the looks I get when I tell them that I can fit more food in my mouth than I can in my stomach.

Anyway, it's all been worth it because I can honestly say that I'm happier with my body than I was two years ago. I miss things like being able to chug a glass of water when I'm thirsty or simply having a slice of bread. What I don't miss is constantly knowing that my body was being destroyed by the excess that it carried. Only time will tell if I've made the best decision for my future.

The Internet In Three Quarter Time...

Let's dance, shall we? I've been doing a lot of it lately. Not in the literal sense, mind you. I'm not some insane Fred Astaire frolicking around like I just drank a case of Rockstar and forced myself into an epileptic episode with a smile on my face. I've been trying to juggle problems at home (big orchestral crescendo) while acting like everything's fine in front of friends, family and occasional saps who have to listen to a grown man cry.

The problem? Let's be blunt... I have to, I have been anything but sharp lately. Hi, I'm Jodie and I'm an asshole. *big "HI JODIE" from the room* It's been a couple of weeks since my last online confession... that's what this is, you know. I get to purge my soul and you get to point and laugh as my pennance. It's the closest thing I have to clergy at the moment, so live with it.

Jackie, the most wonderful woman alive, has had to put up with my moods and lack of interest in just about anything approaching intimacy. Why? Well, I've blamed it on everything but the truth. (A-one-two-one-two-three-four) Let's start with my first excuse. I was depressed because of my situation with being put on disability recently. (side-step left) Then I tried to blame it all on changes in medications. (kick-ball-change) I also tried telling her that I am just having difficulty with being able to separate my work and home life. (slide to the right and hop) When I just couldn't admit to her or, more specifically, myself, the undeniable truth. It's a story as old as time and it smells like it hasn't had a shower in a couple of years. That's right, that horrible smell is... (orchestra hit and drop into the splits for the big finish) FEAR!!! I'm afraid. My anxiety, stress, mania and moody fits have all been over the fact that I'm scared, all the time. I can't face the things that I am so frightened of losing.

Why??? I am with the woman that I know I've been searching for my whole life. Her kids are wonderful and they love me for who I really am. I'm learning to live by my dreams and make the art I have inside of me a reality. I have more freedoms now than I've ever had in my entire life. What the hell is my problem? I'll tell you. It's because deep down I'm waiting for the hammer to fall. I feel as though I'm doomed to blow this whole thing apart, because that's what I've always done. Being in a relationship this intense is like living next to a bonfire. One foot too close and you're consumed by it. A foot the other way and you'll freeze your tail off. My problem is that I just can't seem to sit still in that sweet spot and enjoy the warmth. Instead, I back off and suffer in the cold because I feel like I'm supposed to be miserable. I've been consumed before and had to live with the disappointment of losing it all very quickly. I'm going to be happy, dammit, even if it kills me. God, I sure hope it does... really, really slowly.

Today's top ten is a testament to all of us screw-ups out there. One step at a time, one day at a time, one smashed finger at a time, we're making the world a better place... only with more safety warnings.

The Top Ten Safety Warnings For Screw-Ups:

10. Caution: Do not read this label.

9. Device is designed to be operated by someone else... put it down and walk away.

8. Please sober up, stop whining and find your glasses before touching that switch.

7. Roses are red, violets are blue, you'll be all those colors when this falls on you.

6. Warning: Your IQ is insufficient for walking erect.

5. The manufacturer has already forwarded your address and phone number to a local ambulance company.

4. If accident should occur please videotape it and send it to us so we can laugh at you.

3. Caution: for use only in bed with a champagne spritzer, a copy of the New York Times and a remote control for a TV you don't own any more.

2. Danger: Product can cause hopeless geeks to feel much cooler than they really are.

and the number one warning for screw-ups:

1. Manufacturer is not responsible for loss of confidence, impotence, major emotional issues, foot odor, tidal shift, feline migration, strip mining, lexdysia, uh, aidyslex, er, learning disabilities or marital difficulties caused by the irresponsible purchase of this product.

Blogging gone bad.

I wanted so much to be able to update this blog on a daily basis. So much for good intentions. I'm home full time and I thought it meant that now I was away from my job "rehabilitating" I'd have a great deal more time to pursue my writing and photography. Well, I've been taking pictures... but only while I've been out running errands every day. It seems that everything else has become my full time job. Everywhere I look there is something that needs to be fixed, cleaned, put away, reorganized, labeled, folded... you get the idea. Being home is hard work. So, Jackie, the MOST wonderful woman alive, kindly bought me a new desk and is actively trying to get me to finish resurrecting my desktop computer, that I slightly cannabalized to fix my father's system, once and for all. Once I get that computer up and running it will be my little corner of the world. A small slice of sanctuary in a crowded apartment. Ah, bliss...

"Life is funnier when you are anxiously anticipating the punchline."

- Right Rev. Rap Masta Cornflake

So, here I am thinking about writing, photography and the age old art of making money without being hired by corporate America. So here's a twisted top ten for the blue-collar crowd... we're all in this together.

The Top Ten Reasons NOT To Kill Your Boss:

10. Orange cover-alls have NEVER been in fashion... especially in the exercise yard.

9. It's so important to show respect... without the crosshairs.

8. Because you'll simply be replacing them with someone much more annoying and demanding... that you pay.

7. No one has ever said, "Show them how you feel... with explosives."

6. It's very difficult to forward your mail to a penitentiary.

5. Stalking self-help gurus is much more satisfying.

4. At the office you get cigarette breaks... not broken for cigarettes.

3. Writing a proposal under a deadline is infinitely easier than writing a confession under guard.

2. Pictures of your ass, attached to a resignation, can be enjoyed for years.

and the number one reason NOT to kill your boss:

1. "Yes sir/ma'am" is easier to say than, "Can't we just cuddle?"

A full nest on an empty stomach.

The wayward eighteen year old has come home to roost for a night. She's got to go to court tomorrow morning to deal with a problem with her driver's license. Don't ask. So with all the girls under our roof I'm considering things from a different perspective. Here's a one for parents.

The Top Ten Things You Don't Want To Hear Come Out Of A Child's Mouth:

10. (when asked about something broken) It wasn't me.

9. (referring to a myriad of commands) It's not fair!

8. (when asked about clothing they've obviously soiled) I don't have anything else to wear!

7. (when the older child is given permission) How come they get to do it?

6. (when asked if they've bathed recently) I think so, wait, no, I can't remember.

5. (from a teenager) I hear you say it all the time.

4. (when caught in the act) I didn't know I wasn't supposed to do that.

3. (if asked to do work) I don't feel good.

2. (this one is just icky) I think the cat's sick.

and the number one thing you don't want to hear come out of a child's mouth:

1. (HORROR!) Mom, I found this in your nightstand.

Just you and me against the... what the hell is that?!?!

I've been thinking about the things that couples go through. Mostly because I'm going through them... again. So here's a top ten for all you lovers out there.

The Top Ten Rare Conditions Only Couples Contract:

10. MIF: (not Mission Impossible Force) Menstrual Irritation Factor. It's measured in the level of irritation you cause your partner once a month.

9. DASS: Dig And Scratch Syndrome. This gets worse as couples are together because guys grow more comfortable scratching places they should only touch privately.

8. WDYD: Could be "What Did You Do?!?!" but it's actually Why Don't You... Disease. A condition that forces couples to expect the same things they did to each other while they were dating.

7. IHR: I Hate Romance. This one is the cynical symptom of couples who have lost that magical spark... and found it when the fire department arrived.

6. GAFM: Get Away From Me! This can occur at any time for no particular reason.

5. WDYLT: Where Did You Learn That? This is a disorder that can be both blessing and curse. Cook something your partner has never had before, say something you told yourself you'd never repeat or, the most severe case, make the move you've in bed you've never had the courage to try and you could be either hero or villain.

4. INST: I Never Said That!!! This one is usually only contracted by men because most women have the unnerving ability to repeat conversations you had with them years ago, verbatim.

3. DTMML: Does This Make Me Look... It's a twisted trap as old as time. Why do women ask this question of a gender that yells at people on a television screen as though they can hear them? Men will smell their clothing to determine whether or not it can be worn. These same neanderthals will shove mold riddled food in your face and ask, "Does this smell like it's gone bad to you?" You trust their opinion of how an item might alter your appearance?!?!?

2. YOMH: You're On My Hair. My favorite malady because men, for centuries, have thought so much of their masculine prowess until they realize they're just ripping their partner's scalp from their head. Oh yeah, baby...

and the number one rare condition that only couples contract:

1. WTIIT: Who's Turn Is It To... a word of advice to men here... If you're asking the question, it's probably your turn. If the person you love is asking... it's still probably your turn. Just get up and do it, you knucklehead!

The agony of da happy feet...

It's been a bittersweet day... and I want to get this over with quickly.  Today's top ten was inspired by something Jackie thought was funny.

The Top Ten Things You Don't Want To Hear After Visiting The Gym:

1o. Did those pants fit when you came in?

9.  Actually, the limp makes you look kinda sad.

8.  No, I don't think the Sound Of Music soundtrack is appropriate for working out.

7.  Maybe you should consider taking a shower... again.

6.  The doctor will see you now.

5.  I'm afraid that we need to refund the rest of your membership fee, less the damages.

4.  Poor posture, lack of endurance, unhealthy breathing... maybe you should give up the porn.

3.  I'm sorry sir, I thought you were just crank calling 911 from your cellphone.

2.  They call them sweats, not sponges.

and the number one thing you don't want to hear after you visit the gym:

1.  Sure, you look great.  If you're an anemic, injured, senior citizen.

You never know what you'll do...

Fast-food is going to be the downfall of western civilization.  You'll just have to trust me on this.  Where else can you spend $4.99 on substances that can barely be pronounced, encouraged to super-size your ability to clog your arteries at the speed of grease and also get a refill for a quarter?  People are so proud of their ability to provide cheap death in a bun that they put their names all over the stuff... Wendy's, Carl's Jr., McDonald's, Tommy's, etc.  It wasn't called Hitler's they just call it the Holocaust but the casualty rate wasn't nearly as high...

Top Ten Things To Do When You're Bored In A Fast-Food Restaurant:

10. Go to the counter and ask if they can "super-size something that's not on the menu."

9.  Randomly ask people if they find the establishment "olfactory."

8.  Wear a cape to the restaurant, jump up from your chair when you're done and run back to your car shouting, "I'll be right there!"

7.  When they bring you your food ask if the "poor, defenseless animal was killed humanely or subjected to the horrors of an anonymous mass slaughter like it didn't even have a soul."

6.  Ask if they offer alternatives to the "kid's meals" with appropriate toys like "Buddhist meals," "Hedonist plates," or "Sado-masochistic sack lunches."

5.  Offer to "autograph" people's napkins.

4.  When people try to sit at the table next to you don't look up from your meal but say, "Stop it.  They can sit there if they want to.  You can't make me do that."

3.  Write "Official Straw Monitor" on a napkin, tuck it in your collar and pass straws out to people.

2.  When the person at the counter asks if they can help you hold up four fingers and shout, "I'm this many!!"

and the number one thing to do when you're bored at a fast-food restaurant:

1.  Leave an anonymous note for the manager saying, "I don't want to alarm you but I think the chair I was sitting in may actually be an exact replica of Malaysian shrine where 500 clowns lost their lives."

Top Ten Mania!

Okay, so tonight I'm trying to produce two top tens because I want to start doing two a day so that I can publish.  I warn you, I'm a little jaded because I've had several days to consider the fact that I'm a recently working stiff trying to compete in a world where everyone wants to be self-employed.  The first is one inspired while actually laughing during a very serious conversation I was having with Jackie.  Sad, but true...
 
The Top Ten Novelty CDs That Just Never Made It©:
 
10. Bodily Noises From The Motion Picture Deliverence.
 
9.  The Cast From "Who's Company?" Sing Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits.
 
8.  Don't You Want Me Baby by Sally Fields.
 
7.  Lounge Songs From The Sixties by The Grateful Dead.
 
6.  100 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall by Various Artists.
 
5.  Ozzy Ozbourne Mumbles Shakespeare.
 
4.  Binging And Purging To The Hits by Calista Flockhart.
 
3.  Music To Spasm To by Julia Louis-Dreyfus.
 
2.  Rick James Sings About His Bitch. 
 
and the number one novelty CD that just didn't make it:
 
1.  Jailhouse Rock by Martha Stewart

 
Okay, and now for Top Ten number two...
 
The Top Ten Names For Celebrity Perfumes You'll Never See©:
 
10. Endorsement: Your name is worth more than you are.
 
9.  Jagged Little Pill: How much can you swallow?
 
8.  Cleavage: I'm up here... hello?!?!
 
7.  Kids And Animals: Hollywood's not that bad... is it?
 
6.  Danger: Put down the crack pipe.
 
5.  Andy Warhol: "There's nothing behind it."
 
4.  Puke: Try not to get it on you.
 
3.  Fifteen Minutes: Save for a rainy day.
 
2.  Purdy: A scent as fleeting as beauty.
 
and the number one celebrity perfume you'll never see:
 
1.  Plastic Surgery: I'm as real as you want me to be.

RIP Ray Charles.

I never met the man but I grieve his passing.  I remember summer nights when I was younger being brought half to tears listening to this soul filled blind man, born in a segregated Albany, Georgia, sing, ironically, the national anthem.  As a young man, Ray represented the tenacity it takes to overcome the steepest of mountains and still maintain the integrity of dreams and the ability to touch people with unbridled sincerity.  What kind of man does it take to bare your soul to millions of people in the painful birthing process of creating a song?  Especially when you know that your music will be criticized, scrutinized and rejected out of hand simply because people don't know how to believe that a successful black man can still have a pure talent.  Ray, you set standards that will remain unchallenged for generations.  Did you intend to change music?  Did you intend to turn the entire musical world on it's ear with your music or did you just write a song because you enjoyed the music?  God speed, Ray.  You've earned your place in the celestial choir.  In fact, I'm hoping that you're enjoying your new found place composing songs that bring God to tears the way yours did for me.

What are you lookin' at?!?!

It's all crude mood and attitude around here lately. I live in a two bedroom apartment with three women. I ask you, wouldn't any sane man have his patience tested in the best of conditions??? Well, I just went from being a regular working stiff to being home twenty-four/seven. Hello? I love each and every one of these women, truly, but when tempers begin to fray and the monthly hormone explosion creates a shockwave that would level the crowd at a World Wrestling Federation match it's difficult not to hide behind a mask of indifference. I've been contributing my own brand of heartless comments without thinking about the sensitive ears listening. As it is, every person in this apartment has had her feelings hurt, several times, and I've said that I'm sorry more times than Oliver North. Family life can be a little hazardous... it's downright extreme when you're bipolar.

Today's top ten, therefore, is going to reflect my current situation...

The Top Ten Things To Install In A Luxury Doghouse:

10. Drool cloth dispenser.

9. High-Definition Smell-o-Vision.

8. Hot & cold running toilet water.

7. Authentic "Chase The Car" treadmill.

6. A.C.M.E. inflatable leg. (for those lonely nights at home)

5. Hydrant with infrared flush-o-matic sensor.

4. Crunchy cat crap vending machine.

3. "Just like the real thing" sun-lamp.

2. Butt-scent spray and sniff station.

and the number one thing to install in a luxury doghouse:

1. Ronco meaty bone burying oven.

What a difference a day makes.

It's too true. One minute you're bitching about how stressed out you are about everything and the next you're being told by your psychiatrist that you can't go back to work... wait, that actually makes sense. This morning Jackie sat down with me and we told my psychiatrist how difficult things have been for me recently. A three and a half to four hour commute and working so far from home. So the doctor told me that he's putting me on disability for three months. Uh, okay, where the hell did that come from?!?! Yesterday I was worried about looking for a job here in the valley and today I'm on disability? Yeah, twenty-four little hours. I can't say that I'm completely relieved but I'm not nearly as worried about finding the time to take care of things. Now Jackie and I can work, in earnest on getting our home-based business things started. I've got ideas for printing and selling some of my photography. She's going to be making hemp jewelry that we'll be selling on eBay, hopefully, and maybe at some of the local "flea market" events. We are going to work very hard on getting the two cookbooks together and ready for pitching to publishing companies. I'm going to gather some editorial type material to see if I can sell some of my writing. Jackie wants me to gather a collection of my top ten lists and possibly put together a book, so you saw it here first! And amongst it all I have time to find a good job nearby. Okay, so maybe the disability won't be so bad. Hey, I worry... it's how I got in this situation in the first place.

So, in that vain, and because tomorrow is my thirty-sixth birthday, today's top ten is going to be about worrying and the art of aging... gracefully... maybe.

The Top Ten Things People Ask When They Realize They're Getting Older:

10. Do chocolate chocolate chip cookies come in decaf?

9. How many calories does sex actually burn, anyway?

8. Is a Last Will and Testament just a way of avoiding a garage sale???

7. Does this job make me look fat?

6. Do my kids need an inheritance as much as I need a red convertible?

5. Why does my laundry look like a medieval torture chamber?

4. Do these pill organizers come in a briefcase version?

3. When is it actually okay to use the words "When I was your age"?

2. How many carbs do vitamins have?

and the number one thing people ask when they realize they're getting older:

1. Is hair really fashion or just lost and found?

Do you know me? You don't know me!!!

1. What time do you get up? 6:AM when I'm working, when I'm not it usually depends on how long the COMA LASTS!
2. If you could eat lunch with one person, who would it be? Jackie, because she's reading this and will kill me if I don't say her. No, seriously.
3. Gold or silver? Golver... no, sild... wait... what's the question?
4. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? What the hell is a cinema?
5. What is/are your favorite TV show(s)? Power off and staring at Jackie...
6. What did you have for breakfast? Coffee, woven wheat crackers and brie. (It's a rough life, but I don't have a stomach!)
7. Who would you hate to be stuck in a room with? Any self-help guru... throttling's too good for them.
8. What/who inspires you? Jackie, God gave her to me and she's my favorite, so there.
9. What is your middle name? Slightly-off-center... and Allen
10. Beach, City or Country? Country - fresh air, stars and wild, untamed animals... no, wait, that's the neighbours...
11. Favorite ice cream? Until recently it was peppermint, now it's no sugar added Klondike bars... cold chemical goodness
12. Butter, plain or salted popcorn? Lather and sprinkle it on, baby!
13. Favorite color? Olive green with a hint of "what is that?"
14. What kind of car do you drive? A little white piece of crap that I'm grateful for
15. Favorite sandwich? Cucumber, but I can't have bread
16. What characteristic do you despise? What characteristic... nyah, nyah, yada, yada, yada... Uh, mocking... hate it.
17. Favorite flower? Alstromeria for looks, Gardenia for fragrance and whole wheat for baking
18. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? Back to DC... I wanna live in the Smithsonian...
19. What color is your bathroom? When it's clean, tan-ish... when it's not it's too hideous to open my eyes!!!!!!!!
20. Favorite brand of clothing? Geoffrey Beene, if you must know.
21. Where would you retire to? Grass Valley, CA...
22. Favorite day of the week? Payday
23. What did you do for your last birthday? *hic*
24. When is your Birthday? Monday (no, really)
25. Where were you born? Spiral arm of the Milky Way galaxy, I think
26. Favorite sport to watch? Football!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Go Niners! Woohoo!
27. Who do you least expect to send this back to you? (insert your name here)
28. Person you expect to send it back first? Skippy the wonder hamster
29. What fabric detergent do you use? The white, powdery one with little flecks
30. Coke or Pepsi? diet Dr. Pepper (I like being different, too)
31. Are you a morning person or a night owl? Insomniac, hello?
32. What is your shoe size? 13 wide or 14... I know, I know... Sasquatch borrows my shoes
33. Do you have any pets? 3 cats, 2 kids and one very angry dust bunny that is trying to kill me in my sleep