I Almost Died in a Car Crash, Got Shitfaced with My Family and Saw Some Pigs. How Was Your Weekend?

Alternate title: The Longest Post EVER So Get Yourself a Drink and Settle in for a Detailed Account of How I Spent My Weekend, Y'all.

People, I am DONE with driving long distances and Big Scary Freeways for awhile, at least. Yes, I spent most of my childhood and adolescence on the Dumbarton Bridge and am nonplussed by more than two lanes of traffic but holy mother of swear words and cars and drive-thrus...I am staying put for the forseeable future.

WARNING: If you are one of my dads or I ever lived in your uterus, you might want to skip the first part of Friday because you will lose your shit. No offense guys, but you're kinda wimpy when it comes to the thought of me almost dying. Just move along to the parts where I am drunk because you have all seen that.

Friday: Day started out on a pretty normal note. Got some last minute laundry done, packed my bag for my crazy-busy weekend and headed out of Chico in my recently tuned-up truck. My old, but lovingly cared for, well-maintained (OK, yes, it does need a good washing but other than that, just shut up, alright?) truck. The first half of the drive goes by with zero incident and I'm bopping along and decide to pull off of I-80 in Fairfield for a coffee. As I make my way over to the right lane I hear a huge BANG, the truck pulls sharply to the left and the next few moments are a blur as I spin out and almost hit the wall before managing to get the car pointed in the right direction over on the shoulder. I call 911 because I can see chunks of my tire in the road and know that the CHP office is at the next exit. (Seriously, I do this drive all the damn time and know every bathroom, every Peet's coffee location, whatever.) Another car pulls over to check on me as I'm half hyperventilating-recounting the story of OHMYGODIJUSTSPUNOUTWHATTHEFUCK? to the dispatcher. The people in the other car inform me my driver's side rear tire appears to be shredded and I relay this to the dispatcher, who is asking me all kinds of questions that I am having trouble answering (like, my name) but I manage to give her my location. In the meantime, one of the three Good Samaritans seems really put off by the fact that I am devoting more attention to the 911 dispatch than to him, and mistakes my reluctance to fully exit the vehicle as a fear that he will rob me, rather than a fear of being mowed down by one of the hundreds of cars flying past us. He proceeds to inform me that I clearly hate black people, FSP shows up and a highway patrol officer rolls up to check on me too. I try to explain to the dude that I am not racist, just freaking the fuck out and maybe I have forgotten my manners but I AM HAVING A BIT OF A CRISIS HERE and would appreciate if he could wait a moment while I get shit done and then I will be happy to chat with him and inspect the tire while practically standing in the freeway. The FSP dude manages to get the tire situation under control while the officers block traffic and run out onto the freeway to retrieve tire chunks. If you had to slow down on I-80 last Friday afternoon, SORRY! AAA shows up too, makes sure things are cool and I'm sent on my way. Although the car is deemed totally safe to drive, I am still a little flipped out but manage to get myself to my dad's house in one piece.

Upon arrival in Pacifica, I give the fam a quick rundown of the situation and my uncle offers to drive me to my dinner party in the city. I politely decline, so he offers to make me a drink instead. Sold!

I love that my uncle and I speak the same language: Bushmills.

The dinner with B&G, D&K and E was fabulous as always. B looked at me and said, "It feels right having you at my table" and I gotta say, it feels right to me too. Talking about leaving my heart in San Francisco.

D&K, adorable as ever.

The gourmets: G cooked up a five-star meal and K spoiled us with homemade tiramisu.

Saturday: Up at dawn to road trip to Fresno (aka The 'No) for my Great-Aunt Peggy's memorial service. She passed away last month and is terribly missed by our family. A beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the lady liked to have fun and her children and grandchildren put on a wonderful party that honored her memory. I always forget that this side of the family is the Unapologetic Day Drinking side, and realized I need to visit more. We saw a ton of relatives we hadn't seen in years and I discovered that the penchant for sick jokes and a "That's What She Said!" sense of humor is genetic.

Timothy Evan and Evan William partying it up.

The evening is a bit of a blur... I know I went on a liquor run with my dad, got back to the house, downed the rest of my wine and got my uncle to hook his favorite niece up with some cocktails. Our cousins Terri and Mark are pig farmers and have a gorgeous property with lots of cute baby pigs. I felt a little guilty enjoying my bacon and cilantro wrapped shrimp, but got over it pretty fast because sweet baby Jesus, that stuff is SO GOOD. I explained that as a city girl, I prefer not to make friends with my meals and they agreed they would only serve me food I hadn't met. Seems fair. Ridiculous and fairly graphic explanations of inseminating pigs for breeding ensued and at one point I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. Eventually the crowd dispersed and I passed out in my cousin's room.

Bubba shows off his monkey bollock (blanket) and monkey jammers.

Mark, please do not explain to him how baby pigs are made, nor where the bacon came from.

Thumbs up all-around for Terri, the coolest cousin!

Sunday: Woke up with the slightest headache, but after tallying the drinks (3 beers, 2 glasses of wine and a shit ton of whiskey and soda) I was not in horrid shape. After some breakfast, coffee and a shower I was handed a mimosa. I use the term "mimosa" lightly because those are supposed to have orange juice in them, which I guess mine did technically, but really, who are we kidding? Again with the day drinking and damn if my head didn't feel absolutely marvelous instantly. Dad and Judy came by with Evan and apparenly Bubba was up half the night with a fever.

Some snippets of conversation:

Terri: "My girlfriends and I used to have a pool going when we'd go out and whoever got asked to dance by the ugliest guy got the money."

Judy: "I want in on that. You're talking my game! Also, lesbians love me. We start talking softball and next thing I know..."

Me: "If the rules were the oldest dude asking you to dance I'd beat all of you hands down. Old guys love me. And I want extra credit if they are wearing chains!"

Dad: "Will someone please take the champagne away from them?"

Have you ever been drunk in the car with your drunk stepmom, sober dad and three year-old brother? Because here's what you can expect: making up songs that heavily feature the word "poop" with the three year-old, begging your dad to pull over for Jack-in-the-Box because, "Dude, we are drunk hungry! I need food noooooowwwww" and passing out next to the aforementioned toddler. A toddler who will try to wake you by throwing toys at your head and playing a pretend trumpet. Interweb, that is the closest I've ever come to hitting a child. I wonder when he'll realize "Sissy is tired" means "Sissy is hammered" and "Sissy needs to sleep" means "Sissy passed out and will likely attack if woken?" Hopefully not for another year or so. I woke from my car nap covered in my own drool and still feeling buzzed. My dad is exceptionally proud of me.

Show of hands: who is concerned that Evan was able to take this photo because I was too drunk/lazy/oblivious to wrestle my camera away from a person who weighs 30 lbs?

Monday: After another fitful, feverish night with Evan the entire family trekked to Kaiser for an appointment with Dr. Ami, the best pediatrician since my childhood doctor. The kid has some weird ass preschool disease like foot and mouth, only the sores are only in his mouth. I wasn't so much disgusted as concerned, but still - ew!

While putting the little diseased kid down for his nap and saying goodbye he warmed my cold, dead heart with this little gem:

"I'm so glad you're my potty talk friend!"

For reals. I cannot begin to express how completely awesome this kid is. You just need to experience him to fully understand the wacky charm that is Bubba.

The drive home was uneventful, but I stopped every five minutes to check my tires and hyperventilate and imagine that the car was going to careen off the road. Good times. After spending roughly three hours in the car Friday-Monday I am so grateful my daily commute is 40 minutes round trip. CKD needs a break, yo.

So, um, there you go. My weekend in approximately 7,000 words, give or take. If you'll excuse me now I need to collapse and maybe pour myself a drink. Haven't had one of those in about 18 hours and we wouldn't want my liver tissue to regenerate, now would we?

Fancy Ladies

My mom and I went out for dinner together, and like most of our interactions, I was left wondering if any other moms and daughters talk about the same things we do. Sure, we chat about work, friends, our family...but then sometimes the conversation takes a turn for the bizarro.

Me: "Hey, you have a zit next to your mouth just like I do!"
Mom: "I know. I think it's from getting this [gestures to upper lip area] waxed."
Me: "Me too! It's sucks. You have to make the choice: zit or ladystache."
Mom: "I'll take the zit."

A few minutes later...

Me: "Not really loving this new development where I need to deal with a ladystache. I was explaining to a friend that it's not dark, but my hair is so long. I look like Hulk Hogan."
Mom: *Laughs* "Yeah, I don't have that problem. I have more of a 'Vote for Pedro' five o'clock shadow, wouldn't you say?"
Me: *Almost chokes from laughing* "Sure, we can call it that."

And, SCENE!

Babies, Black Clothes, Bubba and Blondie

It usually takes me a week or so to get back into the swing of Chico life after a great weekend in the Bay Area. Add quality time with Lili and Juno to the mix and my post-weekend blues increase exponentially.

I was originally going to do this as a Grace in Small Things post, but there's nothing small about the amount of grace my friends and family bring to my life. So, you get some pictures instead.

Cocktail hour at The Club (say this like Thurston Howell for maximum effect). CKD threw on her pashmina since she seemed to pack only black clothing and looked like Morticia Fucking Addams. Seriously, it can't be good when your father, who owns 836 plaid button down shirts, stages a little intervention about the amount of black in your wardrobe.

Juno being hilarious. We should have cut her off after the second drink, but she was all, "DUDE! I can handle it! I'm on vacation...back down."

Holding this kid sets my ovaries to "function mode" or something. She never fusses, loves my dancing (I mean, who DOESN'T, right? But she is clearly advanced.) and even when she spit up on me she leaned over so most of it hit the floor. Where do I get one?

And speaking of the famous DeFazio Dance Moves: Evan rocks out with his toy pager. Don't ask. I think he's expecting a call from 1987 or something.

No, Dad, I DID NOT make the baby sing "All the Single Ladies" and we DID NOT do the dance routine from the video and I most certainly DID NOT swear in front of him. Why do you ask?

A few people have asked about the Blondie concert and all I can say is that the bitch kicks some ASS. I want to be like her when I grow up. And I think the entire gay population of Butte County was at the show; it was nice to meet the six of you. I wasn't great about taking pictures, and the ones I do have are just scary. CKD may have gone a little crazy with the Maybelline Superstay and may have looked a little crazy with her new dark hair, pasty-ass skin and RED lips. Just trust me on this one, OK?

He's at the Top of MY List

The other night Judy asked Evan if he understood what it meant to be thankful, and she gave him some examples of things for which she is grateful. Then she asked him what he is thankful for.

"My big boy bed. No more crib."

Pause.

"And the love in our house."

Yes, there is some serious love in this house.

Tonight, We Bowl!

Monday I woke up with the kind of headache you get after you've spent the day riding around in a limo swigging champagne in between visits to three separate wineries. And yet when a certain three year-old woke me with "WE'RE GOING TO THE BOWLING ALLEY!" I knew I had to sack up and face the noise.

Apparently every family within a 50 mile radius had the same idea we did (rain + no school = bowling), but the hour-long wait for a lane was made more bearable by the abundance of hangover food available at SeaBowl. Cheese sticks? Check. Pizza? Check. Chips and salsa? Check. Let's do this!

Little Man so excited that he "knocked down those pins" all the way at the end of the lane. Moments after this photo was taken I squeezed that little face and kissed him because I can.

Sissy tries to convince Bubba to use the racks provided for kids to help them bowl. Captain Independent was having none of it and insisted on hurling the ball down the lane. Each turn took approximately 34 minutes.

The DeFazio kids celebrating a successful turn. At this point Evan was just enjoying goofing off with the rack...it gave him something to do as the ball made its slow-ass way down the lane.

Thirty-One

Birth: My mom was eight days past her due date when she finally felt like something was happening. She told my dad not to go to work and they headed to the hospital. I was born about eight hours later, early the next morning. My mom said she already knew I was a girl from the dreams she had, and exactly what my name would be.

One: My grandfather was recovering from open heart surgery and my mom was too worn out and emotionally exhausted to plan a party. From the pictures I've seen it looks like there was a cake and I still had very little hair.

Two: Looks like we had some family friends over to my grandma's for cake.

Three: I was sick, we didn't really do anything.

Four: I was sick again, but my mom was tired of me not having a proper birthday party. A bunch of people came over to our house, but in every photo I look feverish and miserable. Most of the kids have given me a good three feet of space since they can tell I am an incubus of plague.

Five: I had pneumonia and missed a month of school, but I got some new Barbies for the Barbie dream house I received at Christmas.

Six: We had cake and a small "party" at my kindergarten. I was healthy enough for school, which was nice.

Seven: I had pneumonia AGAIN and missed about a month of first grade. Kids from my class sent get well notes.

Eight: My friends Amber and Ashley came over for cookies after dinner. We were sad about the Challenger explosion the previous day and were scared from all the news footage that was shown every two seconds.

Nine: Straw Hat Pizza Parlor party with classmates and friends. I didn't like traditional cake or frosting or chocolate so my mom got me a cheesecake with fruit on the top, which was the best thing I had ever tasted in my life.

Ten: Elisabeth got to spend the night and we watched Sixteen Candles for the first time ever. Needless to say, it was a life-changing experience.

Eleven: I think Elisabeth and I were on the outs or something at this point...But my friend Chalis got to spend the night and my parents took us to the Hard Rock Cafe in San Francisco for lunch. Chalis gave me a crimping iron.

Twelve: I do not remember this birthday at all.

Thirteen: My grandpa had died a month earlier and I refused to celebrate. My mom finally convinced me to sit down for dinner with her, Dave, my dad and Grandma. I spent the meal being a petulant brat. Welcome to the teenage years. My mom gave me a beautiful garnet necklace. This did little to raise my spirits. I'm still in shock she didn't ship me off to boarding school on the spot.

Fourteen: I think there was a small surprise party and sleepover at Elisabeth's house? I don't remember.

Fifteen: Elisabeth, her mom and her Nana took me to see Guys and Dolls in San Francisco. We went to Coit Tower that night to look at the view and I knew at one point in my life I would live in the City.

Sixteen: My mom pulled a completely serious, unintentional Sixteen Candles and forgot it was my birthday until halfway through the day. Much like Samantha Baker, I was less than amused. She made up for it with gifts of jewelry, so we were good to go. Elisabeth and I were allowed to take the train to San Francisco by ourselves and spend the day up there. We shopped, ate root beer floats at Ghiradelli Square, rode a cable car and took a terrifying cab ride. That night my friends and I went out to dinner and had a sleepover while most of our high school went to the Winter Formal.

Seventeen: Went to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show dressed up rather...provocatively. For still being underage and all that, I mean.

Eighteen: Spent about two weeks celebrating this one...My mom and Dave took me to a fancy-pants dinner and gave me a pair of diamond earrings. Various dinners and movies out with friends, culminating in a surprise party for me at my friend Martha's house. I was so excited and touched I almost cried.

Nineteen: The first college birthday! My roommates and friends took me to Pizza and Pipes, where the organist made me stand up while he played Happy Birthday and everyone sang. We requested "Ragdoll" because thought we were hilarious. Come to think of it, we kinda were.

Twenty: My roommates took me to the one decent Mexican restaurant in Tacoma, the Tortilla Factory, I think? I'm sure at some point we ended up at Sigma Chi, getting drunk.

Twenty-One: Went to the Family Tavern for my first legal drink in a bar at midnight. Free drinks on my flight from Seattle to San Francisco. Cable car barhopping party complete with bartender ON THE CABLE CAR. Almost got kicked out of a biker bar for being too rowdy. Threw up all over the inside of a cab and Eileen had to pay the driver extra to let us stay and take us back to her place. Woke up the next day and couldn't find my pants. My mom and Dave gave me a Hawaiian heirloom ring with my middle name, Kaaihue, on it. I didn't wear it that night out of fear of losing it. (See aforementioned pants incident.)

Twenty-Two: Went to karaoke with friends and drank myself illiterate. Long Island Iced Teas+Microphone=Idiot. My mom was this age when she had me. Weird.

Twenty-Three: I threw a surprise party for a friend...not knowing another friend had arranged it so that it was also a party for me. Surprise! Brought my new boyfriend to meet my gang of friends and got the thumbs-up. Elisabeth sent me a gorgeous scarf from France.

Twenty-Four: Got food poisoning a few days prior, so I was remarkably slim after days of puking. My dad and stepmom met up with us after dinner and my stepmom bought us a round of tequila shots. This guy I had a crush on showed up and hung out for awhile. He is married now.

Twenty-Five: I had a cold and my mom and Dave took me to dinner. They gave me a pearl necklace. It was my first birthday without my grandma, and I had just gone back to school at CSU Chico.

Twenty-Six: Zero recollection of anything remotely remarkable happening, which leads me to believe I probably had another goddamn cold.

Twenty-Seven: Went dancing with some friends in Chico. Almost fell off the stage at LaSalle's. Not because I was drunk, but because I am THAT uncoordinated and spazzy.

Twenty-Eight: Accepted a job offer at Edward Jones in Pacifica. Jumped at the chance to work and live near my new baby brother.

Twenty-Nine: Freaked the fuck out over turning 29. No idea why.

Thirty: Eileen came out from New York to celebrate, which is kind of shocking (see Twenty-One) but was so touching nonetheless. Took a trip to the wine country with friends and felt like I was on the brink of an exciting beginning to a new chapter, rather than a sad end to one.

Thirty-One: I didn't wake up needing Sudafed or antibiotics, so already I'm feeling pretty good. I spent the last evening of 30 scaling a fence after locking myself out of the house, and I am surrounded by wonderful people and good wishes. But I kind of miss getting Barbies.

UPDATED: Katie called me at my desk to serenade me, and is taking me to La Comida for lunch. La Fucking Comida, bitches! Oh, hellooooo chimichanga with extra sour cream and guacamole. Come to Mama! I have also managed to flash my bra at half of my office, despite wearing a camisole. It's official: I am a special type of spazz.

UPDATED UPDATE: No chimichanga, but I thoroughly enjoyed my enchilada. The server tried to give me Diet Coke and I think it's a sign of my maturity that I did not pull a knife on her. Also, Katie alerted Campus Police that's it's my birthday and one of the officers announced it over the radio. Fantastic.

Let's Give This a Try

I've seen this on a few sites I read and think it's a nice reminder that there are things - sometimes small, silly or seemingly insignificant - that can bring us happiness in the midst of chaos. It's called "Grace in Small Things" and many people list 3-5 items a day. If you can find a few each day that make you smile, it's a nice way to inject a little "serenity now" into your life without going all-out Pollyanna.

Grace in Small Things: 4

1.) Discovering friends who share your affinity for geeky pursuits (I'm looking at you, Cappa and Judi) and embarrassing junior high crushes.

2.) Healthy babies being born to my friends. Congratulations to the Kurtz, Swanes, Alvarez, and Kopscak-Yeung families!

3.) M&M's fresh from the vending machine at 10am. South Beach diet be damned!

4.) Advil.

Sake It To Me

At some point I will post while NOT under the influence but for now y'all are gonna have to indulge CKD.

There's an upside to having a super-chatty stepdad: he makes friends with EVERYBODY. Seriously. The mailman. The recycling guys. The dean of his department. And most importantly: restaurant owners.

We are favorites at the local sushi place, which means Rock Star status at their special VIP events. Tonight we took part in a special invitation only sake tasting event which capped off what is now known as a Rough Week for Our Family. The sake was to die for, the food was delicious and the laughter was constant. I really, truly enjoy the company of my family and only wish more people had that experience. Yes, they make me crazy sometimes, but they also make me laugh so hard I can't breathe and THAT IS A SERIOUS COMPLIMENT.

Want some proof? Here is a sample of our conversations and drunken non sequiturs. Bet you can't guess who said what.

"I like bold flavored meats."

"I tend to download a lot of porn on my work computer."

"Pour me a glass of sake and let's watch something on the telly!"

"Let's drink this and watch Godzilla!"

"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto."

"Isn't this what Iron Chef drinks? If it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me."

"And we can use the bottles as Molotov cocktails if there's a riot."

Thank God I don't have to be at work tomorrow. I can almost feel the hangover now.

I love them so much and want to squeeze their faces!

Remember That Time I Didn't Update for a Few Days and Then Finally Got Around to It After I Had Been Drinking? Yeah.

Hey there...didn't mean to leave the "Woohoo Obama" post up all week as some sort of statement or anything. (Although, OMG how much do I LOVE MICHELLE OBAMA? And how amazing is it that our president has just GOTTEN DOWN TO BUSINESS and is making shit happen?) Just been a wild and crazy week in the life of CKD. And not in the good way. News this week was of the "major job changes" and "serious health issues for family members" variety, which put me in a funk. Throw in a phone call from a certain three year-old informing me he misses me and has been waking up crying in the middle of the night and well...let's just say I have a carry-on packed for my guilt trip.

BUT! This week has not been all gloom-and-doom. I saw the San Francisco Symphony here in Chico! Next week I see Second City (former home of TINA FEY and Steve Carrell) which will be hilarious! I have plans to go to the wine country! And probably the most thrilling news of all: I got three new lip glosses for free! THREE ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY BUT TOTALLY ADORABLE AND DELICIOUS NEW LIP GLOSSES. God bless gift cards and the parents who put them in your stocking. Sure, the new glosses aren't that different from each other (truthfully, not that different from the 400 I already own) but I don't care. They are shiny and flavored and have disgustingly cute names and that makes me happy, OK?

I think some other stuff happened the last few days? I don't know. I am operating under the spell of Cabernet, which is a potent, magical thing. It's made my underwear disappear before. True story.

Three

Dear Evan,

You are three years old today. If you would kindly stop growing and remain at this sweet, funny, innocent, kind, still-OK-with-hugging-me-in-public stage of life, that would be great. This is in your best interest if you'd like the piggyback rides to continue.

Since stopping time isn't an option, I guess I should come to terms with the fact that you are growing and changing every day. I hate that I'm not as geographically close to you anymore, but it makes for interesting visits. You have new favorite phrases, new games, and new songs to show off and it's like meeting a whole new kid. A very easy-going kid - thank God. As high strung as I was, Dad deserves one laid back child. Your sense of humor is apparent: you love to laugh and are so pleased when you make us laugh, too. Sure, a lot of your material is potty-based, but who doesn't appreciate a good poop joke?

You cannot possibly understand how loved you are, or how excited we are to be your family. This last year has brought nothing but exciting changes and growth and wonderful memories. Each year has been better than the previous one, and I can't wait for the adventures you will take us on in 2009.

Happy Birthday, Bubba.

Love,
Sissy

Yes, this picture is a little old, but it's my favorite of you.

The Year in Review

January: Evan turned 2 and we celebrated with an Elmo-themed birthday party. I turned 30 and we celebrated with a booze-themed birthday party.

February: Quit my job working for Satan and felt instantly better about life. Went to my first bachelor party.

March: Moved across the country.

April: Partied it up Puge-style at Boy Chris and Katie's wedding in Pasadena. Attended Lili's baby shower and predicted she was having a girl.

May: My Grandma Pat passed away. Juno was born one week later. Her birth and the joy and anticipation surrounding it cushioned the loss tremendously.

June: Moved across the country again. Lost about 10 lbs. Started this blog.

July: Started a new job and met my friend Katie.

August: Celebrated Kim and Justin's marriage in Portland. Had the crap scared out of me when Dad was hospitalized briefly. Was incredibly thankful for Dad's speedy recovery and subsequent good health.

September: Spent some quality time with Dad and the family. Celebrated Brad and Gustavo's marriage...for the third time. It doesn't get old; those guys throw a rad party.

October: Went to Pasadena and am thinking about moving there. Met Juno and fell in love at first sight. Went to San Diego and am thinking about moving there.

November: Welcomed Rico home from Iraq and learned that he and Beth are making me an auntie again.

December: Took a fantastic trip to New York. Reflected on the amazing surprises, blessings and gifts this last year brought me. Started thinking about grad school, next career move and where I want to land for awhile. Celebrated both the passing of one incredible year and the hope and excitement of a new year with family and friends.

Here's to 2009 kicking the ass of 2008! Be safe, be happy, and cheers to you!

Surefire Cure for a Case of the Mondays

It's the Monday after a long holiday weekend. We're all feeling a little blue about being back at work. Perhaps even a bit stressed about hectic schedules and deadlines. Here are some pictures of pretty girls to perk you up. Don't say I never do anything nice for you.

Lili and Juno being freaking adorable.

Katie and CKD enjoying sake and cocktails while making friends with sushi chefs.

Giving Thanks

A few people and things for which I am thankful:

-My parents. Yes, all 4 of you. Probably not obvious given all of my "you are headed for a crap nursing home" jokes but you know how I roll.

-Baby Evan walking up to me first thing in the morning, standing very close to me while saying, "I love your face." He may have said that to get some of my Skittles, but I'll take it.

-Old friends who I can call at 3am, drunk or sober, laughing or crying, who listen and laugh and cry along with me.

-New friends who have brought unexpected joy and perspective into my life.

-Arrested Development reruns on Hulu. Don't judge. And don't underestimate my love for the Bluth men. Even Buster.

-Red lipstick, black boots, orange daisies, and blue cheese.

I'd like to think I didn't take my life for granted, but I know I did. Decent health, a wondeful family and friends who bring such joy and laughter and perspective: I've been blessed. While I wouldn't say I was unappreciative or expected good things to fall into my lap, I suppose at a certain point I simply got used to it.

Then life took this bizarre turn and I reached out to my parents for help. Without asking many questions, they provided practical and emotional support when I needed it. "Sure, that's what parents are for!" you say? I feel the same way; but I know so many people who don't have that kind of unconditional love. As much as I may joke about the burden of having four parents, it is a gift.

Friends checked in frequently and offered love, a place to stay, and many drinks. Some were friends I'd lost touch with and had recently reconnected. Some were new friends who were probably wondering if I was a drama-magnet. Some were old friends in the midst of huge life changes, taking the time out from midnight feedings and newlywed bliss and their own heartbreak to check in and remind me that while I had been hurt, there was true love all around me.

This Thanksgiving looks different than last year and sometimes I get a little sad about that. Plans and promises were made and broken, which is always hard. But you know what? I have everything and everyone who matters to me and it's tough to feel bad when I realize that my cheering section stretches around the world. Hopefully you know that I am cheering for you, too.

Thank you.

Spotlight On: Almost 21 Months (Cantilevering), Julie's Adventures in Oz, Raising JD, and The Heff's Blog

This week's theme is "Baby Blogs" for my spotlight special. It's no surprise that I love kids and I am so lucky that my amazing friends are breeding equally amazing shorties. Let's get to know them a little better, shall we?

Cantilevering (Almost 21 Months) is all about Sam, son of my friends Stephen and Cabrelle. Stephen and I met while working together when we were young single twentysomethings. It's funny to think my old drinking and dancing buddy is now a daddy, but looking back, Stephen had the makings of a good dad. Much like a toddler, my moods could swing from a-OK to freaking the hell out, so he's had some practice at the whole soothing a flipped out kid gig. Luckily for his parents, Sam seems to be a pretty chill little guy, and they clearly cherish every experience they get to share with him. I love all of the photos and the captions are priceless. If you like your baby blogs on the "funny" rather than "precious" side you'll dig this one.

Julie's Adventures in Oz comes to us from the Land Down Under! Julie and I go waaayyy back. How far back? Our moms have been friends since the first grade. So yeah. She and her husband Don relocated to Australia with their son Makoa when he was tiny, and it's great fun to read about their adventure. I miss them terribly (they lived in SF when Julie was pregnant and when Makoa was first born) but love the idea that I have a place to stay in Sydney. This has been an ideal way for Julie to keep friends and family at home updated on Makoa's milestones, as well as share some of the fun quirks of living abroad.

Raising JD is the long-awaited follow up to Rico's Dirt Sailor. Happily home from Iraq, Rico is back with his family: Attractive Wife Beth and little boy Joaquin (Jack). Young Jack is almost three, full of personality, and quite possibly the most mellow kid I've ever met. Now, we haven't spent a great deal of time together, but I have never seen him act up or even remotely cranky. Maybe he got the memo that his parents will send him to Gitmo if he dares step to them? Well-played, Alvari!

The Adventures of Moco and Bubba makes me laugh every time I read it. Yeah, the stories Cece tells about her daughter Memphis (Moco) and Grayson (Bubba) are funny. BUT for me, the entertainment value is in seeing a college friend being all...Mom-like. Don't get me wrong: she is an excellent mother and her work/home life balancing act is a thing to behold. Still, it kills me that someone who used to dance against a wall to Biggie in the Sigma Chi basement is taking the Brownie troop to the movies on Friday nights. If you'd like a study in contrats (ie what happens when the two kids spawned from the same womb are total opposites), this is the site for you.

The Heff's Blog follows the adventures of Mary, Brian, baby Francie...and Baby Number 2 on the way. Mary and I went to high school together and reconnected at our reunion. This is basically an online baby book...that will put ANY baby book to shame. Seriously. Each post features a ton of photos and a who's-who? in the Simonson/Heffernan family. I feel like I know every member of their family, as well as many friends. Which, if I ever meet them in person, is going to be a creepy interaction. "Oh, hi there. You've never met me, but I saw every picture of you last Halloween. What's up?" Mary is an amazing photographer and manages to capture great photos of both special occasions and every day events. Also, they have a bounce house, so I'm moving in with them. Surprise!

CKD Phones It In

Here is a Christmas Survey stolen from Cece. It's really one of those emails you're supposed to forward, but we have adapted it because I know the Interweb is dying to know the answer to these questions.

And yes, this is a total cop-out for a "real" post but I'm working on a Friday so be a dear and deal with it, mmmk?

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? We stopped wrapping gifts years ago and make the recipient close his/her eyes and then hand off the gift. My dad's family insists on ruining the planet, so I wrap their gifts.

2. Real tree or Fake? We have a bunch of small fake trees all over the house that my mom decorates with her jabillion ornaments. Dad and Judy get a real tree which we pray Evan will not pull down on top of himself.

3. When do you put up the tree? Beginning of December-ish.

4. When do you take the tree down? New Years-ish

5. Do you like eggnog? Yes, and keep the Bushmills coming, please.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Probably either one of my Cabbage Patch Dolls or my Barbie Dream House. Thanks, guilt-ridden divorced parents!

7. Hardest person to buy for? Mom

8. Easiest person to buy for? Evan

9. Do you have a nativity scene? Dad and Judy do, Mom and Dave are heathens.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Depends on how on the ball I am. Y'all may be getting drunk dialed this year.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I can't think of a "bad" gift. I mean, even if something didn't fit or whatever, it's usually still a nice gift and it's the thought that counts.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? A Christmas Story and Elf

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Sometimes I find myself picking up stuff throughout the year, but usually not until after Thanksgiving

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Just the gift bags

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies. Lots of 'em.

16. Lights on the tree? Yes

17. Favorite Christmas song? "Blue Christmas"

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Travel down to my dad's which doesn't really count, since it's not a big deal. Depends on the year, though.

19. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Yes, there's Joey, Jordan, Donnie, Paul, Ringo, Sharona and Vixen

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Angel

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? One present on Christmas Eve, the rest the following morning

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? How flipped out people (not my family per se) get over the perfect holiday or buying the perfect gift. Dude, just have some eggnog, eat a cookie and let's watch a movie. It's the together-time that counts.

23. Favorite ornament theme or color? That's a stupid question

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? My mom's upside down pear/cranberry/ginger cake. Yes, I know that's dessert. Don't look at me like that.

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? For all the children of the world to hold hands and sing in harmony. Also, bigger boobs.

26. Who is most likely to respond to this? Your Mom

27. Who is least likely to respond to this? Uh, everyone

28. Favorite thing about Christmas? Hanging out with family and friends. Now that Evan is getting older, watching how much he loves the music and decorations and is still oblivious to the materialistic/commerical end of things.

The Cabbage Patch Doll Incident

It's Crazy CKD Thursday kids. Today we move away from the food neuroses and into my generally pissy attitude that was in serious need of adjustment.

Enter Dave.

Let it be known that now, in 2008, neither one of us can recall the actual catalyst that set his plan into motion. I assume it's because I was being a little bitch and needed to be taught a lesson, but it could just be that he was bored that day.

When Dave first moved in with us he was working as our apartment complex manager, which was a pretty sweet gig. Excellent break on rent, and he was home during the day with me when school was out. The only drawback? He was home during the day with me when school was out. He grew up in a LOUD family of five boys and while generally comfortable around kids, wasn't really sure what to do with this overly sensitive, awkward, ridiculous little girl. So our days were spent alternately playing (swimming, playing basketball) and bickering (who drank the last of the milk? who ate the last cookie?) which must have been exhausting for the poor dude. Apparently no one gave him the memo that in addition to never getting involved in a land war in Asia, you don't engage in the craziness of a child.

One day I must have done something particularly annoying, like called my mom at work to report that Dave made me a sandwich with tomatoes, and since I was allergic he was clearly trying to kill me. From here on, the details are a bit fuzzy, but there was much stomping and pouting on my part. I went back to my room and there she was.

My Cabbage Patch Doll was hanging from my curtain rod, my bathrobe sash used as a noose. I started shrieking and Dave appeared behind me and quitely said, "She was depressed. You couldn't have known. Don't blame yourself."

Clearly I was pretty flipped out. I knew this was Dave's handiwork and more than anything I was annoyed he had touched my stuff. Only child issues? Yes, right here.

Neither one of us is really sure what this was supposed to accomplish, other than showcase Dave's sick sense of humor. And maybe pass some of that down to me, which he did. Well-played, Dave.

A Message from Juno

Oh, hi there! I'm Juno Constance. You may recognize me from such posts as "Area Baby Humiliated" and "Stay Classy San Diego." Today I just decided to sit up all on my own. You know, for the hell of it. And because I'm AWESOME. I've been rolling over for ages (like, way earlier than other babies) and practice yoga regularly, so why not switch it up a bit and try this "sitting" thing. Well, I have to get going. Have a great day and enjoy this picture of me being the sweetest kid ever.

Making Dad Proud: The Playground Version

You know what will really make your father beam with pride? Use the the play structure to demonstrate your pole dancing skills while singing "Tainted Love."

This is also a good way to get the attention of the DILFs at the park, if that's something you need to do.

Making Dad Proud

Actual conversation between my dad and me this morning:

Me: "I like your jeans."
Dad: "Thanks. They're new. I started buying 559's. I got a few in different washes."
Me: "Isn't that the style you always get?"
Dad: "No, I used to get 569's - "
Me: "BWAHAHAHAHA! YOU SAID '69!'"
Dad *Hangs his head and sighs heavily*

For those of you playing the home game, I had only been at the house for 12 hours at this point. I was asleep for 8 of them.

We're hoping Evan turns out normal.

And the Yogurt Hits Keep on Comin'...

There has been a request for another Crazy Little CKD Loses Her Mind Over Something Stupid and this one is also food-related. In fact, it's another story of Dave messing with my yogurt.

When the yogurt supply got low, I would go into a bit of a panic. See, I had some issues with food and control and being crazy. You know how it goes.

Anyway, I knew I was down to one yogurt and went about my little OCD morning routine. I reached for my snack, calling out to my mom and Dave that it was time for a trip to the store before my head exploded or whatever.

I open up the yogurt and my not-fully-awake-brain doesn't quite grasp what is in the container at first. Because it sure as hell isn't yogurt.

It's a KOOSH BALL. Remember those? Well, I had one and apparently someone who shall remain Dave thought it would be funny to scoop out my yogurt, replace it with a Koosh Ball (so I wouldn't be able to tell at first that the container was empty) AND a post-it note with a picture of a clown on it. Why a clown? Because they are fucking horrifying, that's why.

For those of you keeping score at home, Dave is 30-ish at this point in his life, and I am but a wee, high-strung girl of maybe 9 or 10. And HE is the one pulling this crap. I think you know how the story goes: much shrieking, stomping, yelling for my mother to DO SOMETHING before Dave relented and revealed he had simply scooped out the yogurt and it was ready to eat. But of course I freaked out again because it wasn't IN THE PROPER CONTAINER and I was convinced he had tampered with it.

Next week...Cabbage Patch dolls are caught in the crossfire in a battle of wills.