Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Grace in Small Things: Super Friends Edition

Not that my friendships are a "small thing" but you know...

1.) The comfort and easy laughter of talks, emails and IM's with old friends nearly makes me spit coffee all over myself, but oh is it worth it. Might be a good thing we all don't live near each other; the amount of ditching work to watch movies and day drink would be astounding.

2.) The appearance of new friends (I say "new" but mean "within the last year") who have enriched my life and brought unexpected joy and perspective into my world. I can only hope I do a fraction of the same for each of them.

3.) The friends I have yet-to-actually-meet who exist somewhere in the bloggy world and push me to continue writing, however silly, and put it out there. That surprising support sustains me just when I think "Who cares?" and want to chuck it all.

4.) The expansion of my circle due to marriages and babies thrills me like none other, because if there's one thing I like it's a good party. And what better reason to celebrate than true love and shmoopy wee ones? Also, an open bar helps and pregnant chicks are great designated drivers.

5.) The constant reminders each of my friends give me to think about the small, beautiful things in life in the middle of chaos keep me sane and comforted when I feel overwhelmed or alone. Thank you.

Monday, March 23, 2009

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?

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Happy Birthday Jen! aka "Who's the boss? Tony Danza? No, I think it's Jennifer"

March 14 was my dear friend Jen's birthday and I hope she will forgive me for the tardiness of this post. Jen and I met at the Puge; she and Kim lived two doors down from me in Regester Hall (Virgin Vault - HOLLA!) and we quickly discovered a shared affinity for Goonies, Adam Sandler and speaking in movie quotes. We have a winner! Also, her product collection and morning routine rivals mine in the "Holy crap, how much stuff do you have?" department. My only complaint about Jen is that she lives so far away now. What's it gonna take for you guys to move to California? I'll do the truffle shuffle...

Jen is an adorable white girl from So Cal who also happens to have mad rap skillz. She and Kim do an excellent Dr. Dre/Snoop Dogg for "Nothing but a G Thang" that will send you into fits of uncontrollable laughter and awe.

Jen's nickname, The Boss, is a shortened version of her maiden name, but also an excellent way to sum up her dynamic, take-charge attitude. This woman chaired committees for, like, 90% of the activities of our campus and every single one was a raging success.

Jen is never embarrassed by my ridiculous shenanigans and just encourages me to be a jackass by laughing when I dance like Elaine. So, blame her.

Jen's dance skillz would make Kevin Bacon proud. She can do any routine from Footloose, including the part where Ren dances around by himself and yanks off his sweatshirt. Just thinking about it is mkaing me crack up right now.

Jen is an awesome karaoke partner. Our version of "Sweet Caroline" brought down the house at orientation. Word.

Jen has a Rain Man-like memory for song lyrics and movie lines. Throw out some obscure line from Friends or pretty much any movie ever and the woman will respond in kind.

Jen, for all of her straightforward, "I'm-not-gonna-pump-sunshine-up-your-butt"-ness is always, always the first to offer love and support and encouragement in a time of need.

Jen is not afraid of confrontation or saying the Thing Maybe You Don't Really Want to Say but Probably Should. Being terrified of every offending anyone ever when I met her, I learned from her example that it's possible to stand up for yourself and the world will not fall apart. There are times even now that I channel that energy and it has served me well.

Oh Hen, I miss you and wish we lived in the same building again so we could get some fro-yo from Smell. If you ever slow down for two seconds I'll come visit soon since I have yet to meet your baby Tessie. Plus, Jeff and I clearly need to discuss the subtle nuances of the genius that is Happy Gilmore. You are so money, and you don't even know it!

Monday, March 2, 2009

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?

Sunday, March 1, 2009

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.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Speaking of Geeky Pursuits...

I know I've mentioned this before, but I had (OK, maybe still have) a big ol' honkin' geeky-ass crush on Commander William T. Riker of the Starship Enterprise. To clarify, I do not have a thing for the actor who portrays him, Jonathan Frakes, nor do I really seek out any of his other work. My dork-love is directed at Riker. Because, you know, that is totally normal.

My crush dates back to the early 90's, when my mom would watch Star Trek: The Next Generation, we only had one television, and I decided to watch it with her once. This is probably more than a little odd considering I was 12 or 13. I mean, there was a more age appropriate character on the show - played by Wil Wheaton! - and I'm all up in Number One's grill? Yeah, I'll just let a few of you armchair psychologists ponder this one for awhile.

In my defense, I found him hottest when he grew the beard, but before he started packing on the pounds. But even aging and a little weight gain didn't diminish my love. I'm crazy, not unreasonable, remember?

Behold the object of my affection:

Come on...kind of attractive for an uptight white guy? Maybe? No? OK.

Still not convinced of how awesome he is? Watch this little clip and tell me it's not a total panty-dropper:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvY3jVJJKEI

Anyway, I guess I'm kind of excited to share this because recently I've found kindred spirits in unlikely places and I'm hoping maybe some of you will open up about your semi-embarrassing crushes, past or present. Let's hear them. Oh, and I know I'm opening myself up to ALL KINDS of harassment and mockery, but the heart wants what it wants.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

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.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

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.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Maybe This is the Wine Talking

This won't come as a shock to anyone who has known me for more than 30 seconds, but I was pretty late to the game when it comes to the dating thing. Girls who sweat Commander Riker on Star Trek: The Next Generation were not really prom queen material at SHP. My high school (and let's be honest: most of college) days were spent nursing crushes on my guy friends while being the funny sidekick. I was Duckie.

Consequently, I'm remarkably naive - some may even say clueless - when it comes to flirting, dating and dealing with the opposite sex. I'm honest to the point of freaking people out and I am missing the "play it cool" gene. Mama has no game, kids.

"Why do you want to walk me to the restaurant? Do you think I can't find it myself?"

"Why do you want my number? We just sat here and talked baseball. What, you want to call me later?"

When a guy chats me up I immediately look for the bucket of pig's blood in the rafters and wonder, "Maybe he needs me to tutor him in French" or "Maybe this is a dare like in She's All That" and then I remember I GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL ALREADY and my life is not a Freddie Prinze Jr movie. It may seem like I'm remarkably cynical, but I'm actually insanely trusting to the point where I get hurt repeatedly. At the very least, I'm always shocked when someone behaves in a less-than-honorable way. And I definitely don't get how someone could be so mean to another person after declarations of love and the desire to share a life together.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with all of this. It's just been a weird month or so of extremes among my friends and family: beautiful weddings and joyful pregnancy announcements or horrible heart-wrenching break ups. It has all made me reflect on relationships and love and all the stuff we go through. It's a miracle anyone ever gets together, really.