Have you ever had one of those days

when you wake up at 3 a.m. with your bed so full of regrets and resentments that there's no room for you anymore so you force yourself to just get up?

Have you ever realized that you're holding onto your anger for no good reason like it's your Great Aunt Inez's fine crystal vase, and if you happen to take just one finger off it then the whole thing might crash to the floor beneath and break into a million tiny little pieces, and you'll be left standing there naked and vulnerable for the whole world to see?

Have you ever wandered around Old Town wondering why you're in such a horrible mood and wanting to blame it on PMS but realizing that would be betraying all your feminist principles as well as allowing your first ex-husband to have been right about something. And then you plop down painfully on the sidewalk because you dropped your keys in the gutter and stumbled trying to pick them up with the sudden realization that you now have to embarrassingly specify between your first and your second ex-husbands?

Have you ever become disgusted at your own self-absorbed melodrama and told yourself - For Fuck's Sake Look at Haiti and Shut the Hell Up- but then still shed a tear when the girl at Los Bagels rolls her eyes at you because she made your bagel for here and you need it to go, and you wonder if you told her the wrong thing to begin with by mistake because you just turned 40 and senility is waiting right there around the corner?

Yeah, me neither.

Fed Ex: A Covert Operation

For the past several days I've been housesitting for a friend who lives on one of the busiest streets in Eureka. It's not a very tough job and consists of feeding the cat, sleeping in the giant comfy bed and bringing in the newspaper and mail. Oh, and spying on Fred (that's not really part of the job, just a bonus.)

Yesterday I arrived at the front porch to see that Fed Ex had paid a visit and delivered a couple of packages. Realizing that it was a busy street, the delivery person very carefully hid them so they would not be observed by casual passersby.



And just in case I happened to miss them, there was also a note left on the door.



Super stealth, guys. Good job!

Things that make me feel better after driving home with a terrible sake hangover and realizing there are probably things from the night before that I

should regret saying but unfortunately can't remember enough to regret them:

1) Boys with spiky hair who work at Safeway

I realize that every moment of every day that goes by I move a step closer to being 40. I also realize that this means I have most definitely moved into the realm where young people who bag my groceries might begin to call me ma'am. Spiky haired boys at Safeway certainly realize this too, but they wisely wink and call me miss anyway, god love 'em.

2) Yams

Hot, steamy, yummy, orangey...baked and eaten with nothing but some fresh salted butter on top. They settle my stomach and make me feel all wholesome and earthy and pure and virginal again.

3) Langhorne Slim on the ipod.

His voice is just unhinged enough to be comforting.

4) Snow

Beautiful, silent and peaceful snow. Getting snowed in means that maybe by the time I'm able to get to town again, everyone will have forgotten about all the inappropriate things that came out of my mouth.

5) Daffodils

The coming of spring means that I can melodramatically blame my overindulgence on the dark, dreary, depressing days of winter and my feelings of grief and loss and hopelessness. Sniff.

6) Love is blind

I have a husband who upon seeing me this morning about to hike up to check the water tank in fleece pajamas with sheep on them, hot pink rubber boots and hair that hadn't been brushed for two days said, "You look like Super Homesteader Girl. That's hot." While doing the dishes, no less. What more could a girl ask for?

P.S. If I happened to have seen you outside the Shanty and loudly pointed out the upstairs window you need to yell at in order to get crack, sent you a pornographic email, flashed you while you were driving or talked to you on the phone and asked you to run away and join a traveling carnival with me and let the bearded lady homeschool our little carny children...well....um....sorry.

Crush Update

You might remember my mad crush on the sweet but troubled Number 24-08.

It seems that some bull has stolen her heart and made an honest heifer out of her.

Look, she's a mom!


Does this mean she's given up her hoodlum cow ways? I won't know for sure until apple season.