A Sad Story

It's been three weeks and I'm still not sure I can write this.
In fact I'm sure of it, details are out of the questions.
So I'll give you the short version.

Three weeks ago Bodhi bit me.
Only he didn't just bite me. He sunk his teeth in, let go, reattached and did his best to take my arm off. It sounds dramatic, but I'm honestly not sure what would have happened if Matt hadn't been there with his steel toed boots.

Thank the greek gods that my arm wasn't broken and that the tendon damage was minimal. I'm still not back up to full use of my wrist.



As I agonised over what to do and tried to avoid the phone calls from Rabies and Animal Control, Bodhi Bit Jess. Without growling or any warning. It wasn't near as vicious as his attack on me but the bite was deep.

During that week people would see my arm, gasp, and ask what happened. As I told the story, again and again, something dawned on me.

I was in a abusive relationship with my dog.

I'd start off by telling people that Bodhi is always such a good dog. Very smart and always so good. And really the bite was my fault, I put myself between him and the other dogs. The viciousness, that was just because he was scared and didn't realize it was me he was biting. Well, yes he had bitten other people, but there were very good reasons for those. And most of them were before I even had him. And after I had him it's because he was being protective of me.... And he's never done too much damage. I mean most of the time...

But him biting Jess so soon after his attack on me? I couldn't explain that away.

I'd trail off and realize that just because I love that dog more then I've loved any human being besides my siblings, that wasn't enough. All those disney movies that told me that love could change everyone, they lied. In the following week I talked to vets, dog behaviorists, the K9 trainers for the police department. Told them how smart Bodhi was, how much of a lovebug he was, how I could let him run off leash while I jogged and he listened. We'd have conversations. He could tell when I was upset. He did drive by lickings. He was a good dog. He just had a history of biting.

They all told me the same thing. That I had no choice. That he was a biter by the time I got him and really the only reason he hadn't attacked before this was because of how safe he felt with me. But now it was only a matter of time before he bit a child, or did something that required surgery.

I cried for two weeks straight. I'd probably still be crying but I'm relatively sure I ran out of tears.

It was the hardest decision I've had to make. I won't tell you about the dark places that my mind dwelled. In my job I deal with domestic abusive relationships all. the. time. I've never been able to wrap my mind around the fact that these women (and men) stay in such violite situations. Now I get it. A part of me didn't care if he bit me again, I couldn't lose my dog. And surely if I just kept him from situations that made him feel aggressive then we'd be ok. And sure I was a little jumpy around him, sure my gut clenched every time he moved his head too quickly but I'd get over that fear.. right?

The comparisions kept building. I couldn't deny it anymore.

I've said for years that I don't believe in love. I mean, I know love is real, I feel it for my siblings. But the romantic love that lasts forever is just not something I can buy into.
But I loved Bodhi. Like my child.
Losing him has been a heartache that I can't imagine going through again.
It made me realize, if this is depth of feeling is what other people feel in relationships....

Why the fuck do they keep looking for love?

Traces of what could have been

Mckenna had a baby.
And I love him.

Then
An old friend (like someone I haven't talked to since elementary school) found me on facebook. And then she had the nerve to post a link to her blog. And because I have a sickness and have to read every scrap of word that I find (blogs are like crack to me) (even badly written blogs), I spent two hours last night reading her about her life. Reading about how very very different it is from mine.

More importantly, how very similar it could have been to mine if I had not drastically swerved off from the path I was on at age twenty one.

At twenty one I was walking down the path that most girls from my religon were walking. Decent job, a little bit of an education, a little bit of travel under my belt and marriage and children and white picket fences were right on the horizon.

Thankfully, with the help of some amazing friends who knew me better then myself, I came to the realization that I was miserable. That that particular lifestyle was not the one for me. So I blindly picked a new path and ran down it as fast as I could. It wasn't until I was hitchhiking across Kona a year later that I finally pulled up short and stopped blindly running. At that point I picked a new path and have been (mostly) happily skipping down the road.

However every once in a while I see ghost reflections of the path I could have been on. As I held Mckenna's beautiful little boy and automatically fell into the bouncing walk that I used to do with Sierra, it wasn't surprising that I felt a surreal vision of the little child that could have been mine. I came home that night and was washing dishes and I didn't have to stretch my imagination to hear children laughing and playing with trucks at my feet. Reading the blog entries from my long lost friend isn't helping with the weird de ja vue. Can you get de ja vue from a life you haven't lived?

After reading that I was in a bit of a fog. Trying to analyze my feelings. Was I feeling regret? No. Was I baby hungry? God no, not for my own at least. Was I babysitting hungry..? Yeah that felt more accurate. Was I unhappy? No again.

As I wandered around the house in a trance, Jess came bounding into the room. She chattered my ear off and dragged me into the bathroom to dye her hair a new shade of red/brown. At one in the morning. And just like that I snapped out of it. Giggling, with red dye on my hands and spraying Jess with the detachable shower head, with our mutts barking disapproval at us, I realized "oh yeah. My life is awesome". My path isn't what I thought it would be. But damn is it fun.

Gems Found in Books

"Do you know the secret of the stones?" she asked as she reached into the stream.
"What secret is that?"
"If you hold it in your hand and listen to it, listen close enough it will tell you a story."
"What story did it tell you?'
"Once there was a boy who came to the water," she said. "This is the story of a girl who came to the water with the boy. They talked and the boy threw the stones as if casting them away from himself. The girl didn't have any stones, so the boy gave her some. Then she gave herself to the boy, and he cast her away as a he would a stone, unmindful of any falling she might feel."
"It's a sad stone then?"
"No, not sad. But it was thrown once. It knows the feel of motion. It has trouble staying the way most stones do. It takes the offer that the water makes and moves sometimes. When it moves it thinks about the boy"


It's hard not to love an author who understands the beauty, allure and isolation that comes from loving movement.

New favorite author? Maybe. Just Maybe

Dreaming Big

I've been making plans.
Wild plans.
Plans that I didn't think would see the light of day.

But it turns out that things are shaping up to be a perfect storm of oppertunity.
So many things falling in just the right places.
And Jess is just as foolhardy, adventures, wild and crazy as a girl could ask for.

I don't want to say anything yet. Don't want to jinx it.
But as soon as it stops being a dream and progresses to the planning stages
and it's almost there
I'll tell you all about it.

You'll be so proud.
And horrified
And maybe a little jealous

Is it the smart thing to do? Maybe not. But I've been smart for three years now. And I don't know if an oppertunity like this will come around again in the next ten years. Hell, I didn't expect it to fall into my lap, not at this point in my life. But the cliff is there... just waiting for me to jump. And for the first time ever, I have a partner who is willing to jump with me.

Theft

With slight changes...

Hey Andy and/or other musically gifted friends. Think you could update this song with less country and more blues/rockabilly for me. I'd adore you for ever if you could



I ain't never been with a man long enough
For my boots to get old
We've been together so long now
They both need resoled

If I ever settle down
You'd be my kind
And it's a good time for me
To head on down the line

Heard it in a love song [3x]
Can't be wrong

I'm the kinda woman likes to get away
Like to start dreaming about
Tomorrow, today
Never said that I love you
even though it's so
Where's that duffle bag of mine?
It's time to go

Heard it in a love song [3x]
Can't be wrong

I'm gonna be leaving
At the break of dawn
Wish you could come
But I don't need no man tagging along
I'll sneak out that door
Couldn't stand to see you cry
I'd stay another year if I saw teardrops in your eyes

Heard it in a love song [3x]
Can't be wrong

I never had a damn thing, but what I had
I had to leave it behind
You're the hardest thing
I ever tried to get off my mind
Always something greener on the other side of that hill
I was born a wrangler and a rounder
And I guess I always will

Heard it in a love song [3x]
Can't be wrong

An Ode to Little Miss

I was twelve when Sierra was born. I had to wait through four brothers before I finally got the little sister I had been asking for. Her timing was a little rough though. In order to bring her into this world mom had her first C-section and Dad had surgery on his back just days before. So I spent the first two weeks of her life holding her. With both parental units bedridden I was the one walking the floors with the newborn. I discovered that the giant exercise balls was perfect to sit on and bounce a crying baby while watching black and white movies. Looking back on it I realize two things. 1) that ball and constant bouncing is probably the reason Sierra will never suffer motion sickness. 2) I'm shocked I didn't kill us both with that ball.

I used to sing Sierra to sleep almost every night and to this day she is still the only one who knows just how awful my voice is. When I got home from dance practice I'd hold her in my arms and walk through the steps in the kitchen (tile makes spinning easier). And I watched Lion King over and over again with her while discreetly working on homework.

One night stands out clearly. Sierra was about one and a half, maybe two years old. I was trying to get her to lay down for the night. She had the giggles, was just plain slap happy. Her laughter was bright, happy and innocent and so very infectious. And just as suddenly she curled up in my lap and cashed out. I sat there with her against my chest for an hour, just holding her warm little body. I remember thinking, as long as she is happy and loves me... that's all I need in my life. I will have lived my life right if I can keep her that way.

Adults have been telling me since I was 19 that my biological clock will start ticking. Any day now. But what they don't understand is that I already raised my family. I already had my baby. And she's 14 years old and beautiful and sweet and smart as a whip. She's a swimmer and already swimming varsity even though she's a freshman.

Congrats on your first high school swim meet little squirt.

The Itch is Back

A few months back I asked Mr. Andy why he was finally ready to leave Utah.
He told he had realized that the type of girl he wanted to be with wouldn't be living in Utah.
And if she was in Utah then she would be just as unhappy as he was.
So if he was ever going to meet her... he had to leave.
And being the romantic that he is... he left.
I mean, sure he got a job first... but the point is... he left.


Work has been hell the last two days.
Busy and bloody.
I feel overwhelmed and energized by it.
A part of me wants to walk away.
I'm good at walking away

Part of me (who sounds suspiciously like Jocelyn) tells me to stay.
To keep being responsible and adult and make good decisions that will pay off eventually.

I hate that word.
Eventually.


I'm going for a run. A long hard hard that will wear me out and quell this restless feeling.
If I can't out run the demons then I'll go for a swim. And if that doesn't drown them... well then fuck.

Hmm actually that's not a bad idea

Waking Life

Sometimes I dream so vividly that I can't shake it when I wake.
I can't capture the strength of the dream, but indulge me

I dreamt that I called you. I had to tell you that I had met someone. You deserved to know. Even though we weren't together, even though there were no promises between us. You deserved to know.

You were silent for so long that I began to believe you had disconnected. That once again there would be nothing but silence to remember you by.

"Meet me at the high school. In ten minutes."
Click.

Suddenly I was standing outside the dark doors of the high school. Waiting for you. Not for long. You appeared as suddenly as I had. The way it often happens in dreams. I opened my mouth to explain, to make you understand. Instead of listening passively, you kissed me. Hard. Then, just as quickly you stepped back, threw a black hoodie at me and said

"You want to move on? Fine. Make it to the other side of the high school without me catching you, then I'll believe you when you say there is someone else. I'll let you walk away from this. From us.

But if I catch you, then no more of this nonsense. You stop holding back, stop finding excuses and stop fighting us. "

Without giving me time to process your words, You slammed your foot through the glass door, shattering it and pushed me into the dark and deserted school.

Whispering "Run"


The rest of the dream was more senses then visual. Running so hard my heart was pounding through the dream. Hearing the security alarm going off. The whole school dark, the layout familiar and strange at the same time. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the rationale part of me screaming about breaking and entry and felonies. But it was drowned out by the screaming of the alarm, the beating of my heart and the thrill of knowing you were also in the dark... searching for me.

I'm at a full sprint when your hands closed on my hips. You weren't even out of breathe.

The alarm stopped going off, and your voice whispered in my ear
"I don't run to train for marathons. I run so that when I have my chance with you, there is no way you can get away without me stealing every once of your breathe first."*

I woke up out of breathe

Vagabond Season

I've been very bad about writing.
That happens when I run about the country.
I don't think I ever wrote about my DC trip in May
Or the Idaho Wedding in June
Or the California day trip in July.
Or the beach house in July... oh wait, I did post pictures of that one.
I know I didn't write about my Seattle trip with Erin.

Sierra told me that the other night the family was saying a prayer before bed
and My brother who was praying at one point said
"and please watch over Sam, where ever the heck she may be"

Which currently is in Olympia Washington.
But yesterday was Seattle/Aurora
And two days before that was Huntington California.
And by Sunday will be Bainbridge Island.


I'm covered in scrapes and bruises. Both feet have blood blisters and regular blisters. My shoulders hurt from rowing. Yet I never feel so happy as I do when I'm on the road. When every day is a combination of spur of the moment decisions and luck.


Wanderlust: A strong innate desire to travel or roam about

For those of you who are visual learners...
A brief look of Seattle with Jess so far







This, this is a happymess

Jess sets me Straight... Again.

Jess: What do you mean you don't believe in love

Sam: I believe in affection, I believe in brief obsessions, I believe in loyalty. But I've seen what people do and say when they are in love. People tear each other apart, inside and out, all in the name of love. They stay with someone that they have grown to despise because they don't want to hurt the one they love. People use love as a reason to be selfish, as a justification to hurt others just so they can be happy. People may fall in love but I want no part of it. I'll date, enjoy the flush of affection that comes with being with someone new and then I'll move on before either of us gets too attached. I'm only young once. I just want to be free.. for a while.

Jess: So if you don't plan on falling in love, how will you know if you want to be in a relationship with someone? If not love what do you feel?

Sam: Hmm. What's it s'posed to feel like? It's supposed to be like when you can't even see straight if you can't see them. When you can smell them, taste them, feel them, even when they aren't with you. When your blood cries out for their blood, like calls to like, every part of you has a reflection in them. When you're so drenched in them, when you can still feel them inside you, or around you,
when you can tast all their secrets.

Jess: .... see I would call that love

Sam: Dammit

Temporary Satisfaction

I'm covered in tattoos
Well, machine washable marker tattoos.

The night was spent drinking wine, telling secrets, listening to smokey blues singers and drawing tattoos on each other in our dimly lit house.

There's something about the night that inspires people to say things, tell secrets that they've kept hidden from the harsh judging sunlight, to share a part of themselves that normally stays reserved for significant others.

I love secrets. I love that time of night when secrets become tangible.

The drawing tattoos is an intimate ritual for me, one that started years ago with an ex boyfriend.
I've mentioned before that I'm not big into the whole touching thing. Even casual touch is intimate to me. The other day I was playing a game with co workers, which involved writing a famous person's name on a sticky note and then taping it to someone else's head so they can guess who it is. I taped it to a friends head and even that slight brush of skin contact... it's burned into me. I can still feel it if I think about it. I know it doesn't work that way for everyone. But if I choose to touch you, or ask you to touch me in someway... it comes with a lot of thought before it.

Trust me, I've become the expert at finding ways around the necessity of touching people.

But back to the drawing tattoos part of the evening. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the dirty rock'n'roll blues that was playing. We sat in an uneven circle, Jess drawing on my left arm, my legs sprawled over Liz's lap, Liz drawing on Cliff's left arm and Cliff's feet tapping the beat out on Matt's shins. All of us touching, in small insignificant ways.
But intimate ways nevertheless.

And now the sun is fully up, the heat has reclaimed the day and I am covering in tattoos and the echos of tattoos that have rubbed off on me from other people's washable tattoos when they leaned on me. I look at the jumble of colors on me and see the warmth of friendship.

Seeing the colors on me reminds me that I've let these people in. I care about them and they care about me and we... touch. Casually. Comfortably. Like puppies that play and rough house and then all sleep in a pile.

It's a good feeling.
It was a good night.

Morning Musing

I'm officially back to the graveyard shift.

Driving eastbound towards home as the sun tried to blind me, it finally hit. The last six months are over. The last six months that was working the pm shift and was full of moving, school, more school, warrior dash training, house parties, welcoming the sunrise with a bottle of wine, late night swims, traveling and struggling to keep a dying relationship going... is over.

The last month I've been antsy. Which is an understatement.
The last two weeks I've been a mix of excitement, nerves, and not so patiently waiting.
Once I make a decision it's soooo hard for me to wait. I mean, I made a decision. Now I need to follow through with it. What do you mean I need to wait? I understand your words but not the meaning.
But in two weeks I'll have answers. Which isn't as good as action. But it's better then waiting.

I think I can wait two weeks.

For now I'm starting a new shift. And a new six months is starting. I can't read the future but there's a fair chance this next six months will be filled with school, more school, super spartan race training, plotting and planning with Jess, four month relationships, books, vacations and lots and lots of family.

Oh, did I forget to mention that Sierra and TJ are back? Well they are.
Which means the band is getting back together.

The Land of Newport

Some quick pictures of our vacation to the land of Newport.

The little squirt... not so little any more at fourteen.


In our natural habitat


Don't judge us.... ice cream doesn't have calories when you're on vacation


Bronze Gods


My "handstands across the world" continues....


Jess rescues a crab.. I told her she couldn't bring it home, Raine wouldn't like it



Our totally awesome fort



Not posed at all


We found funnel cakes. We died and went to heaven...and then got more


Jess never put down the video camera, I think it's surgically attached to her hand now


Travis understands that books and beach go together


Jess fits right in


Rashguards, the best thing ever invented for girls in bikinis who play in the waves

Sometimes my subconscience is smarter then my brain

I can't shake this feeling

I'm not even sure I can describe the feeling.
It's halfway between an itch and a shiver down my spine
It's sorta like a "something bad is about to happen", but more like "I forgot something big and will get in trouble for forgetting", and yet not at all either of those. It's less "I forgot to turn off the stove" and even more less "I'm going to get caught from cheating on that test". It's more that feeling the crafty detective in a 1940's noir film gets, the one that happens when the case falls too neatly together and he thinks he has the bad guy but the audience is screaming at him that it's the wrong guy.

Yeah, more like that.

It's like switching the radio in time to hear the last guitar strum of a song that you can't quite place
It's like when you wake up in the dark and you see an unfamiliar shadow and you can't place it and you're 95% sure it's not an alien or mass murder or giant freaking spider. Or when a friend says something that sounds truthful, looks truthful but you know is lie even though you can't prove it and you have no idea why they would lie about something little so it's probably not a lie.

Yeah that's the feeling.

It's settled in between my shoulder blades
I hope it doesn't stay there long

The Burning House

There is this website called The Burning House. It's basically full of pictures of what people would save if their house was burning and then an inventory below.

Naturally I love this website and the idea behind it.

So without further ado, this is my burning house.




Name: Sam
Age: 25
Location: Arizona
Occupation: PD Dispatcher
* Bodhi
* A steamer chest that was my grandmothers, possibly her grandmothers as well
* A hat box/trunk that photos and writings from high school and study abroad
* Two photo albums (none of the pictures have digital back ups)
* A first edition of Edgar Allan Poe that my great grandfather gave my grandmother who gave it to me
* My favorite copy of Wuthering Heights
* A World Atlas book that Mareena gave me from the sixties
* My laptop
* My compass necklace
* My passport

Proof

That my friends rock


Me - That's it! Andy sandwich!!

Jess, Liz and me attempt to suffocate Andy in a three way hug

Andy - Dammit, this always happens when I buy new clothes

Kevin - Umm, why does an Andy sandwich need three slices of bread?

Matt - Because there's just that much meat



Seriously awesome

Decisions and Decisions

Three years ago Responsible me lured Reckless me into chains.
It was simple really
Responsible me promised Reckless me that if she put on those chains just for a teeny tiny short little while, there would be all the travels and adventures she could dream of. And money! There would be money because the traveling would happen in correlation with a job.
She might have also promised beautiful men with handsome accents
And chocolate

Just because she's the responsible part of me doesn't mean isn't still me. Crafty bitch

It's been almost three years now.

In the quiet of the day you can hear the metal cage creaking.
The shackles groaning.

Reckless me is desperate to get out.
The adventures, the beautiful men, the chocolate... they all seem to far away
Too out of reach.

Reckless me whispers in my ear nightly
Whispers tales of immediate adventure

And Responsible me has gotten thin and sickly from taking on too much at once
She tries to voice the logic of the situation
She has charts and graphs
But Reckless me has photos of from past adventures to draw upon
And photos are so much more interesting to look at then graphs

I've never liked graphs

In a surprisingly grown up discussion, The Boy and I discussed the future
Both OURS and THE future
He made a valid point
"If you flee now, you'll have to chew off your arm to get out of the shackles you've placed yourself in
Sure you'll be free,
But you'll also be with only one arm
How far can you get on one arm?"

Damn you logic

Responsible and Reckless are at a mexican stand off

And I am at a loss

My Dreaming Bleeds into My Waking World

I fell asleep unexpectedly.
And dreamnt harder then I have in a while.

The dream started with us unpacking in a hotel in Mexico. The Boy, Jess, Travis and some other friends who were faceless but clearly friends, all vacationing. There was excitement in the air. Yay vacation, yay beach, yay friends. This was our anthem.
Jess and I ran from the room, to play in the water.

And ran into your friends.
I would say "our friends" or even "my old friends"
But let's be honest, they were always "your" friends even before I left your world.

Jess continued out into the water, squealing and splashing the way she is wont to do.
I was frozen
Your friends turned to face me
And broke into smiles

The dream didn't give me specifics of our conversation.
It just left me with a warm feeling
And a nervous one.
Because without ever speaking your name, I asked
and they acknowledged that you were there too.

The dream fastforwarded, one day later... maybe two?
Everyone else had gone to the beach, I ran back to the hotel to change.
I'm not sure why, I'm sure dream me had some good reason.
As I was changing tops, I realized there was someone in the hotel

Turning around, I saw a male I didn't know. He was drunk and belligerent
Words were exchanged, I realized he's intentions were bad.
I started screaming.
Instantly the boy was there.
Like he always is when a hero is needed.
The Boy and the Stranger circled each other.
Blows were exchanged.
But The Boy couldn't hurt the Stranger too badly, even my dreamself knew that mexico police
didn't discriminate between victim and aggressor when it came to disturbing the peace
and The Boy didn't want anything to do with a mexican jail
So we were at an impass

Suddenly I knew, in the way you know things when you're dreaming,
You knew the stranger, and you could control him.
I looked around, at the crowd that was suddenly surrounding us.
And there you were

"Do something!"
Smirk

And just like that, the fight was over.
I'm not sure how you stopped it, the dream didn't care
I just remember you walking away with him
All I could see was your back profile, getting smaller and smaller

The next day was a new one, a fresh one
Travis and I started off towards the beach in excitement
I knew there was no way I wouldn't run into you
And now we had something to talk about
other then the past

But we kept walking
Walking
"Was the beach this far away yesterday"
Maybe



And then there was a pounding from the hotel door
The REAL hotel door.
The one in the waking world
The world I reside in
So I returned to it
Never having made it to the beach
Never knowing what you would have said

Epic Fail

I am a self assured, graceful, independent female.

That being said, I am sometimes a klutz and idiot.
And by sometimes I mean a lot.

I found that a big smile and an apology sitting on my lips just waiting to said is usually the best way to get help during those times that I'm not so much independent and more klutz.

Last Monday was one of those times.

It started off badly. The Sunday night before I had spent a few (a lot) merry hours with Jess and Liz. We drank Sangria and giggled. I'm sure we did more then that but the details are fuzzy. In a good way.

So Monday rolled around. But this wasn't just any Monday, oh no, this was the dreaded TAX MONDAY. As in, give me all your money Monday. I had attempted to file my taxes back in February, but due to me being an irresponsible adult I found out that I owed far more on my state taxes then I had planned. So back in February I dutifully filed my federal taxes and made a promise to myself that as soon as I had the money for my state taxes I would pay them and not wait until the last minute as I am prone to do.

So Tax Monday rolls around and I have to get up at the crack of 9am to go mail my taxes. But first to the bank. There I growl at the bank teller, explaining that I need a big ass check made to US Treasury and hurry before I turn around in three circles in the middle of the bank and go back to sleep. Cause I can sleep anywhere.

He prints my check and carefully hands it to me when he is assured I won't bite his hand. I walk out the door.

Then I walk back into the bank.

I explain in a humiliated voice that I meant to have the check made out to the Arizona Department of Reserve. He appears troubled. He looks at me, then the computer for a long time. Then he goes and gets his manager. They talk in hushed voices, then the manager looks at me, then the computer for a long time as well.

It's about this time I realize they think I am trying to scam them.

I attempt to smile winningly at them, but due to the early morning hours it may have been more of a grimace. Either way, they were not reassured.

Once they realize I am not in fact trying to steal money from the bank and that I am in fact just stupid, they change the check and send me on my way.

I go to the post office.
Now first realize that I haven't been in a post office since Ireland. And even before that my relationships with post offices was more aqquantices then personal. So I walk into this dingy building has little resemblance to the soaring timeless bullet ridden post office that I knew. There is a line of course. I grab the first large envelop I see and stuff the necessary paperwork and check into it. It says "express".

Finally it is my turn, I walk up to the portly elderly gentleman behind the counter. I set down my other tax paperwork (I brought it in, knowing I would forget something) and handed him my "express" envelop.

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey. Why did you put your taxes in this? This envelop will cost you 18 dollars to mail.

Me: Umm..

United States Post Office Employee:
< rips open offical envelop> We'll just pretend this didn't happen, here fill out the address on this normal envelop.

Then he beings to go through the contents of the envelop. I am slightly offended. What does he think he's doing going through my mail? Isn't there some kind of law against that? My feathers are starting to get ruffled when he says..

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey Where is your WW2? You're missing your WW2

Me: Umm. Shit. How could I forget that I'm normally not so.. Oh here it is! < add National WW2 to paperwork to be mailed>

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey That's the wrong WW2, you clearly need your state WW2.

At this point he just takes my paperwork from me, goes through every pile and correctly puts it together, all the while making disappointed sighing noise.

I try to melt into the floor.

United States Post Office Employee:
Ok honey, that will be 49 cents.

Me: I only have a card...

United States Post Office Employee:
Don't worry honey. I'll cover it.

United States Post Office Employee:
You know honey, next year you just need to hire an accountant. Someone who will just file your taxes for you. I realize you're 18 and this is your first time but...


I didn't have the heart to tell him I am 25 and normally considered a very capable adult.

Instead I squeaked out my thanks, put my tail between my legs and all but ran out of there.

Just as any strong, self assured independent female would have.

Sometimes I like to dress up..........

We finally had our house warming party... four months too late.

We wanted it to be fun and light, so we made it a "come as your favorite cartoon character" costume party.

Our party was wildly successful.

I dressed up as Daphne from Scooby Doo, I really wanted to spray paint bodhi brown and make him my Scooby. Then I realized he's too protective and would probably try to eat the first male that hugged me. So Bodhi was shipped off to The Boy's mom's house.

After making my costume I made The Boy his. He choose Mighty Mouse. I made the body suit and the underroos, he found the muscle shirt and the cup. Needless to say his costume was a hit.

Jess wanted to do fire nation Katara from the cartoon Avatar. She actually came over and we worked on it together. I forgot how much fun it is to have a girlfriend to sew with. Which I realize makes me sound so 1950's but I don't care. I love sewing. I'm terrible at crafts and not creative at all. But sewing? Material makes sense to me.

I was so thrilled to see everyone's costumes. There was Speed Racer and Meg from Family Guy and Samuria Jack.

But the best part of the party was the next morning. About half of the people stayed the night, sprawled out on couches, curled up on the carpet in corners and sharing beds. As morning light filled the house and insisted we wake up we all gathered to one area, huddled in blankets and clutching water bottles. One of the boys went and got Jack in the Box and brought back breakfast. The smell made Andy vomit, but the rest of us were grateful.

And we sat there for an hour or two. Just talking softly and laughing loudly.

So yeah, I'd call our first party a success.

Sometimes I Can Be Mushy

Familys are Forever... ish

My Mom got married this week.

I found out thanks to facebook.
Well, actually I found out from my brother texting me telling me to look at facebook.
He found out from one of his friends texting him telling him to look at facebook.
Honest to Zeus truth.

To be fair, she had told us kids that she was getting married sometime in the middle of March.
To be fair, she's been saying she was getting married "sometime soon" for six months. How were we to know she meant it this time?

My grandmother is very big into genealogy. When I was young she used to pay me a few extra bucks to read aloud old birth and death certificates while she copied the info onto sheets and sheets of family trees. She would show me furniture around her house and have me recite the ancestors it belonged to. For better or worse she installed a strong sense of the importance of family in me.

So it's weird to suddenly wake up one morning, look at my phone and discover not only do I have a step dad, but also six step siblings. Who I've never met. It would be easy to say it's not a huge deal, I'm an adult, I don't live at home, none of my siblings live with my mother, so nothing has really changed. But my sense of family is disturbed.Will we spend christmas together? Am I expected to remember their birthdays?

Or hell, maybe I should know their names first.

I'm not sure what to do with these new people. I feel like I should reach out, get to know them. I mean, they are family now, right? But what do I say?
"Hey, your dad married my mom. Let's be friends".

Right.

One of my step sisters sent me a facebook request tonight.
Silly me, why didn't I think of that?

In November Tyson got married. That simple act expanded our family by one.



Now our family is even bigger. By a lot.

We're going to need a wider lense

Nostaglic..

I miss my partner in crime.
My roommate.
My one time fiance
( it was high school, he proposed during math, with a gum wrapper ring. How could I say no?)

I miss the midnight shots of whiskey with sprite chasers. I miss the impromptu dance parties in the living room. I miss cheese crisps and burn notice. I miss pool days and my fabulous tan. I miss crawling into your bed and wrestling and begging with you to let me stay. I miss waking up to music that you put on extra loud so I would wake up. I miss midnight walks to the pool and the hot tub, and running in the early morning back to the house, wet and freezing. I miss post it notes all over the house. I miss getting ready for parties and having you critique what I was wearing. I miss nights on the patio with you and Albin smoking while I sit in the window. I miss drawing tattoos on each other with washable markers we bought specifically for that purpose. I miss knowing there was all someone who was on my sleep schedule and wanted to have an adventure. I miss that weird creepy walk you do when you're trying to scare me. I miss your total lack of conscience. I miss bitching about our weight together. I miss your horrible attempts to cook eggs. I miss phase ten and drinking games. I miss.. you.

"Just in case we don't survive, I want you to know I love you."
Five hours later
"Sooo we survived... well this is awkward.."

We did it for the scars and the stories, not the fame.

Living together wasn't perfect, but good god was it fun.
Ryan, darling. I think it's time for a sleepover. I'll bring the jack. You bring the music. The fun, adventure and trouble will follow naturally.

Things I should be doing:

-Working out
-Homework
-Sleeping
-Running (running is so awful it gets its own space)
-Going out with friends

Things I am doing:

-Wasting time on the computer
-Eating girl scout cookies
-Catching up on TV


Sigh
But really, we all knew Productive Girl wasn't going to stick around.
I've successfully trapped her in the laundry room and don't plan on letting her out until 3 hours before my paper is due on Tuesday. Just cause I'm lazy doesn't mean I'm going to burn all my bridges. Unless Clive Owen finally stops lying to himself and admits I'm the only one for him. In which case I will walk into my classes and tell me teachers to suck it. Burn bridges burn.
Who am I kidding?
If Clive confessed his love I'd probably use his money and influence to get me into Georgetown.


Also, I saw this today. Seriously... who is this mysterious person making these?



Who are you and will you meet me for coffee? Or maybe a little bank robbing?

School sucks.
Well.. Homework sucks.
I actually like school. Shhh.
I didn't realize how much I missed learning. I like the taste of new ideas in my brain. I like forming arguments to support or disprove even when I don't actually have an opinion on what we're learning. I love forming a sentence that is beautiful. Does that even make sense?

The Boy is surprisingly supportive. Whenever we go out he proudly says "one adult and one student" and then hugs me and kisses me on the top of my head. It makes me smile. Although now that I think about it maybe it's not that he's supportive, maybe he's just cheap.

There are few things I regret in life. The break I took from school was partly from choice partly necessary. I didn't have parents that could pay for school. I also didn't have parents who taught me how to find scholarships. So as I watched my friends change their majors three times over and spend money and time on classes they didn't end up needing, I decided to wait until I knew what I wanted to do with my life before going back to school. Which resulted in a lengthy break from school.

But now I'm back. I decided to start with a community college, just to wet my feet. Going to a community college is a lesson in humility. Seriously. For the most part there are two types of people at a community college. The first is the angsty teenager except their adults type. My first day back in class I saw a goth. I haven't seen someone done up in goth since high school. I thought it was a rare sighting, something I should hurriedly snap a picture of and text to The Boy. Only it wasn't a rare sighting. Turns out I haven't seen any goths because they've all been hanging out in the smokers section of MCC. I see so many twenty somethings who are probably only going to class so they can stay on Mommy and Daddy's insurance. Maybe I am assuming too much. But I can't think of any other reason someone would go to class and never do the work. Which there are quite a few of in my class. They're not all goth. Some are punk, some are drunk, but all appear very lost and confused. The other type I see are the middle aged adults who are going back to school to improve their lot in life. They have bags under their eyes from doing work and school. I don't want to rag about them, but I have a hard time looking at them and believing that they will actually finish school. Kids, Work and school is a lot to juggle on one plate. Also, a lot to pay for. The adults have another thing working against them. Things have changed a lot since they went to school. I feel bad for them, but if I have to sit through one more explanation of how a power point works, or how to find one in BlackBoard....

I'm sure there are others out there like me. Other mid twenties who are working full time and would rather be lounging by the pool then doing homework but are excited about what they are learning in class. I'm hoping we will naturally gravitate towards each other. Then we can bitch about how hard it is to do school and work together.

Some days graduating seems impossible. The amount of years, money and homework appears insurmountable. It's hard not to get discouraged. Especially when it's time for my 07:30am class. I'll never be a morning person. Luckily, I love my classes.

I can't imagine how awful it will be next semester when I'm taking science and math.

My little outdated phone finally died last week.
I dropped it one too many times. The Verizon guy actually asked me if I had thrown it under a speeding truck.
Poor thing. Although now that I think about it, it's the first phone that I haven't dropped in the bathtub. Hmm. Maybe I'm becoming more responsible.

So now I have a new phone and unlike all the other phones before it, there was minimum amount of swearing before fully understanding how to use the phone. Sometimes I hang up on people with my face, but otherwise I'm already a pro.

All my data was transferred. Except my saved texts. Texts that were saved whether through sentimental value or because they just made me giggle every time I read them. And even though I'm burying the phone, I want to save these texts. I'm notorious for not saving material items that should be of sentimental value, but I can't throw away words. I can't share all of them with you (cause I'm a lady) but I want to record the ones that made me happy hard enough that I couldn't erase them.

From Jocelyn:
"you have to read the Hunger Games. The main character's spirit reminds me soooo much of you! It's freaky"

From The Boy:
"A UPS bomb arrived today from amazon. It is ticking loudly on the counter"

From Tanner:
"Most kids my age get to say that their first album they ever owned was britney spears or backstreet boys. I get to say mine was weezers blue album. Thanks for being the cool sister and buying it for me for my tenth birthday"

From PJ:
"working until 6am? are you batman? you don't have to tell. Just blink twice if you're batman"

From PJ:
"Did you blink twice?"

From The Boy:
""

From Travis:
"I blame the preservatives in my fruit"

From Sully:
"saw a blog that reminded me of you. It's lovetheliberry.blogspot.com"

From Ryan:
"i've kicked three puppies today because of you. The end"

From Melynda:
"well looks like we're gonna have to be lesbians than...I can settle for being your wife"

From The Boy:
"Bodhi knows you should be home by now. He's been watching out the window for 45 mins"

From Sierra:
"you always seem so confident in everything. Even when you were a teenager. How do you not be self conscious?"

From Liz:
Awesome. But I want to wear it allll the time. Steampunk picnics, steampunk galas, slumber parties, girls night out... the library."

From Sierra:
just looked at your house pics on your blog... you know I turn 16 in two years and would make an amazing housemaid/happy little sister to live with :)

From Me:
Thanks squirt. But who knows where I'll be in two years. I doubt I'll still be living here.

From Sierra:
"oh I know. But I never said I wasn't against being a housemaid / happy little sister in Russia or Ireland :)"

From Me:
"How do you feel about third world countries? cold showers and big bugs? Cause that's more likely then not.."

From Sierra:
"I'd say.. see you in two years!"

Maybe In Another World

I've been dreaming a lot.
Well, I always dream.
But lately the dreams have been filled with a cast of old and forgotten friends.

People I stopped thinking about the minute the door closed.

Or so I thought.

I guess my subconscious had other plans.

More then once I've been dreaming of innocence in the guise of the little kids I was a nanny for on Kona. In my dreams I chase them around in the fields of grass that reach my waist. Their mother is never in my dreams, which I suppose explains the peaceful feelings of the dreams.

Last night I dreamt of a guy that I didn't even officially date. He was someone I "enjoyed" for a few weeks before I left Ireland. It's been years since I've thought about him. Yet last night I dreamt of waking up in his bed. I dreamt that we had a life together. And it was a good life. I wore dresses and heels and he would pick me up, swing me around and kiss me. Often.

A few nights before that I dreamt of a girl that I called my Soul Twin. We worked together years ago and we were inseperatable. We were Will & Grace. For a year. But in my dreams we shared an apartment and watched horror movies and had dance parties in our socks.

Years ago I spent three months in Utah living with one of my favorite people. While I was there I spent two nights talking all night with a guy that lived down the street. Two nights of walking around empty streets and eating bad food from IHOP. I lost my phone the third day, got a new phone, with a new number. I moved out of state two days later. Two months later I found my old phone, charged it and found multiple texts from this guy. I realized I hadn't given him my new number and he had no idea what happened to me. I felt a pang of guilt and then promptly forgot about him. Until this last month. I woke up after dreaming of walking Utah streets with him.


It's been like that all month. People showing up and starring in my dreams that I thought were filed away in a forgotten drawer "of could have been" memories. Thinking about it, all these guest stars that have taken over my dreams, they are all life paths that I could have gone down. If things had been slightly different, maybe I would still be in Hawaii. Or living with someone else.. somewhere else. I believe in free agency, the choice to choose your life. I don't believe in soul mates, or in that we are destined to live our lives a certain way. I do believe there are many paths that we could walk. And these people that are all different paths I could have gone. Not just romantically. But actual lives that I could have lived.

Maybe that's why I keep dreaming about them. I'm feeling restless and nervous and overworked and so my subconcious has been reminding me about these other lives I could have lived with these other people.

Is this what regret feels like?

New House meet everyone. Everyone, Meet New House

Pretty pretty new house.

I just finished my first quiz (online, what a convinence) and aced it. So to celebrate I'll finally post pictures of New House. New House doesn't have a name yet, but give it time.

I had to put this post in two parts because the website only allowed me a certain number of pictures per post and apparently it thinks I'm being excessive. Which I may be, but you have to deal with it.

Ok so first a sneak peek of my library. Cause I love it soo much.

Front of the house. I'm not thrilled with the yard but am grateful for not having to mow grass.

This side view of the house makes it look huge. Which it's not. It's comfy.

So the previous tenants really liked color. We spent the first week painting. All these pictures are the "before" pictures. As you can see, the library was originally green with a blue ceiling. Thank the gods for Erin and Sully and The Boy's dad who all came and helped apply layer after layer of primer.

The stairwell was painted blue and you can see a peek of the loft. Which is a tan-ish brown color. The loft stayed that color, I can deal with tan. The stairwell was painted. I don't do blue walls.

As you can see, the guest room was pink,purple and blue. Now after many many layers of primer it's a respectable white. Jess's bathroom is/was wall to wall neon green.

Jess's room was pink and brown. Brown. Seriously. Also did I forget to mention that bathroom's ceiling was painted neon green too?!

The master bedroom. And our new king sized mattress which I love more then life itself. It's like having my own bed again, only The Boy is still in reaching distance in case of bad dreams. The blue walls were actually all different shades of blue.

And our master bathroom. I'm not a huge fan of the brown, but it does match our cool barren tree shower curtain and frankly we ran out of energy to paint. So it stays. For now.


So that's the before pictures. Scroll down to see the finished downstairs.

New House Part II

So you only get to see the bottom floor because while the second floor has all the big furniture set up, nothing is on the walls and there are more then a few boxes still laying about upstairs. We kind ran out of steam on the whole unpacking thing. There is one (1!) box that is just pantry kitchen stuff and I can't seem to bring myself to put it away. My lazy is in full bloom right now.

Ok so pictures.

First is picture of my library. I heart it. Not sure where the other bookshelves will go though. Good thing The Boy is good with a hammer.

I thought about putting up floor to ceiling bookshelves but I can't bear to cover up that paint after all the work we put into making it not blue and green anymore.

So I love this room divider. Out of all the couches in the house I love sitting there most. I just love being able to talk to Jess while she cooks but still be in my library. Eventually I'll put a cushion on it so my bum is more comfortable.

A new table is on my list of wants/needs. But more likely it will just be a new table cloth.

Our cute kitchen. Already getting a lot of use

Jess's couch and my chair. That's the official homework chair. It just swallows me and all my notebooks and books.

View from the sliding glass door that leads to our backyard. Which you can't see yet cause it's just dirt. And a fire pit. But just wait. That's our next project.

So this is the other side of the library. Soon there will be more bookshelves where that mirror is. Also, that door that is 3 stairs up is a half bath. How cute right?

View from the stairs

And the guest bathroom!


I promise more pictures of the upstairs, but not until there are less boxes.