stir until crazy

Having completely squicked myself out with self-help books on understanding abusive sexual addictions, I tossed the lot and picked up some books on zen philosophy. I have been the only person doing any squaring in this squaring-off with Mike, and I say he can sing ballads under my balcony with roses in his teeth (up his nose?) while I squander my evenings reading in the tub; this ickiness is his to face, not mine.  It's a bit hard getting through non-fiction while getting sidetracked by Harry Potter, but it's a nice change after the nastiness of the other stuff.


use the CATALOG!

Today I have been stir crazy. Heather threw a handful of chocolates at me as I snarled past her office, flapping my stacks of book reviews. Moment for self-examination: will these chocolates bring me pleasure, or will they bring me happiness? Pleasure, surely. But they also prevent me from shaking patrons by the hair, so that counts towards some sort of happiness. It is comforting to have newfound spiritualosity.

edited to add: whoever thinks it is funny to have a tiny kitten meow as their cell phone ring tone is going to find their locker bashed open. Any day now. Just sayin.

did what now?

Gavin got his first kiss today - then his first reprimand for kissing at daycare. He shrugged about it as he explained what happened this evening, "She kissed my cheek, and cheek, and lips." He pointed to each. "She said she had to kiss me cause I'm hers boyfriend. I don't want to be hers boyfriend. I want her to kiss me on my cheek, not my lips. When we eat lunch she goes, gimme yous fruit! and I tell hers no, it's my fruit, and she says wah gimme pweeeeze wah and I don't want to give it to hers cause I'm hungwy and she's whining." He sighed. "She says I has to cause I'm hers boyfriend. But I don't. Oh well." I think I made a strangled noise. I thought about the little girl's sparkling pink Disney Princess hoof-shoes and imagined her clippity-clopping on my son's arm to the prom, adjusting her plastic tiara and eating off his plate. 

Yikes.

barf

On Wednesday, I bragged about how great it is having an older child who sleeps through the night, and Gavin spent the next night vomiting from 1am - 6am. I assured Gavin that it's normal for kids to throw up, and that when he grows up he won't do it as much, then I spent Thursday night vomiting from 10pm - 5am. I need to shut up.

Friday was a soggy blur of naps, movies, and tea. Children of Men was stressful, The Devil Wears Prada disappointed me because it did not, in fact, star Glen Close as Satan. I tried reading in bed and woke up 4 hours later with a fever, so took a couple ibuprofen and watched the last disc of Arrested Development. Mike picked up Gavin and made dinner, and then he got sick, too. I am hoping he is the only father who has been infected with our flu, and that everything is purged before Father's Day. Advance apologies to Marc and all the dads at Gavin's daycare.

Sort of a sad week.

stalkers, police, and fishies

Marc has earned himself his donut for a daring exhibition of super-sleuthing, and for not being the person unconscious under the bushes (that was a drunk person). Now we are armed with the powers of INFORMATION, because he followed my stalker stalker on his lunch break and figured out how far from my apartment he lives (too far to get to me on foot, which is good).

I took a break from writing my latest incident report to push through the crowded lobby and stand in the 98 degree afternoon waiting for my policemen. SRP event #2 was a success. Librarian wins. The auditorium was packed, the officers trotted in their dogs to gasps and cheers, and they brought fantastic BPD badge stickers and collectible photo information cards of themselves. They wowed the crowd with a story about this morning's showdown with an armed robber, the dogs leaped and rolled and flung slobber on toddlers, and I basked in sweet, sweet victory over last week's humiliation. The boys, having enjoyed the frolicking police and waited in line for Officer Handsome's autograph, took me out to a Korean bbq joint for dinner, where I found myself eyeball-to-eyeballs with a bowl of tiny dried fish. I felt a bit guilty eating so many little dead creatures in one sitting, but they brought me right back to my cuttlefish youth, and I was very pleased by them. 

In summary: good week.

turpentine

One night alone a week, always looking not to be.

Agreed to go out with a co-worker. Dark pool hall, laughing tattooed dwarf bartender swinging his cue stick, smell of stale beer, a hand on my waist. I don't want to be here.

At a restaurant afterwards, there was a girl in wedge sandals and a Forever21 corset leaning against the bathroom sink unsteadily. "Don't I need Botox? Look at my eyes." They were caked in mascara but managed to focus on me for a moment. "No, you're beautiful." Went out to find my co-worker talking to some people. A Nigerian man with a British accent squeezed my hand, "Why is your drink still full?" I didn't take another sip of it. I don't want to be here.

Finally went back home.

The next day I got my kid back again. We rummaged through my box of old photos. Gavin pulled one out, looked at it for a long time, and put it on the fridge.

Bloomington, Indiana, summer 1986:




Heads together, rolled up on the bed, safe and together and all the time in the world.
This is where I want to be.

walking my mind to an easy time

My baby somehow stopped being a baby this year. Yesterday morning he wrapped his arms around my ribs in his sleep and rolled onto me. I tucked my chin over his head and felt his toes resting on my shins. I've measured him by how far his toes reach while he's sleeping on me; when he was born they curled against my navel, when he was 2 they rested above my knees. They're fast on their way to my own toes, now.

We ate cereal together and sat around on the couch for a bit. He leaned against me watching cartoons while I read. Some of his drawings from daycare are laying on the table - he wrote his own name on all of them. As we walked to the car, he slipped in the wet grass and fell onto the parkinglot asphalt, skinning his knees and hands. He brushed himself off and chuckled, "I ok, I just fell down, that's all." He cringed a bit as he climbed into his carseat. "Mom, how long is it going to hurt?" I turned and put my frozen quesadilla on his knee, and for a moment we looked at it melting there before laughing.

The ride was quiet, radio softly burning holes in me.

Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again

I've sucked it up and agreed to return to New York this summer in order to allow my boy a visit with his family, maybe a trip to Lake George. The decision disturbed some of the internal sediment, the radio regained a bit of bite. I glanced back and saw him staring hard out the car window, hands clasped in his lap, contemplating the music and landscape as well. Small glimpse into his adult self, and it looks very much like me.

not snow white

After a slow morning watching Marc perform air reference in front of the dead computer while I folded endless piles of reading logs, the day began to pick up with the first non-catalog-related reference question: "Do you know there's a bird upstairs?" A bird! We went running upstairs. Marc chased it with a cardboard box while I stretched my finger out like Snow White. Someone had turned on one of the industrial fans because of the broken a/c, and I had horrible visions of chasing the bird into it with a WHAP! of feathers. After running back and forth a dozen times with the box and the finger, we came to terms with our failure as hunters and just opened the doors. I think we may be the reason humans are omnivores.

After work, my skinny neighbor college boy and Marc lugged a used computer desk up to my apartment. Just like Gavin goes through every one of his toys when he meets someone new, I showed them around the apartment, pointing out all my books, pictures, and shiny objects. This is probably why people have housewarming parties, to get it all out of your system.

And so I finally have a full set of grownup furniture. Someone asked me the other day if Bakersfield was going to be a long-term thing, and for the first time in my life I shrugged and said, "Who knows? Got nowhere to go and nothing to do." Just waiting for something Extraordinary, and if it never finds me - well, at least I had it once anyway.

that white chick

I've been Couched.

Javier and Mike wrestled the couch upstairs into my newly tidied apartment. Once everyone had worn themselves out with the novelty of sitting and saying "ooooh", Mike packed Gavin off for their weekly sleepover night. Javier paused for a moment, then lunged for the television. He popped up the Mexican soccer game and held his hand out optimistically for a beer. I laughed, went to the fridge, and joined him on the new couch to watch the match. I did commentary. "Ooh! The guy is saying, 'dude ran down the field, he kicked! He's running the other way now! Kicks again and red guy gets the ball! Run run run run!' I am learning Spanish!" Javier hooked his arm around my head and muffled me. His phone dinged, with his free hand he flicked it open. "Sister's having a bbq. Her boyfriend is cooking - real southern black guy, that dude can cook. Let's roll."

We rolled. 

Trio of little girls dancing salsa; beefy prison guard singing falsetto to Gnarls Barkley over smoking ribs; women laughing over the rattle of the cocktail shaker; Javier swapping Vegas stories with his childhood friends. His buddy rubbed his face abashedly, "I don't know how I got up onto the roof, but I just wanted to take leak, so there I'm hanging to the side of the building and this security guard asks if I'm ok because the people on the street think I'm a jumper." I flicked on Futurama as I gnawed my bbq. "Where did you get this girl? She's darker than you are, bro. Hey, he making you happy? Treating you right?" I spit out my diet Pepsi. Javier patted my knee and smirked. 

Now it's Memorial Day.  Apple pie! Bratwurst simmering in Guinness, cheddar brats to burn our tongues off with molten cheese, fancy chips and dips. Just a three-person family to-do over a good movie and music, but with the notable addition of my fabulous COUCH!

couch couch couch

savior and destroyer

Couch shopping after work is hard. The furniture store was dark and the parking lot was empty when we pulled up at 6pm. We got out anyway to look at the hours on the door. 

"Is that a bird?" We stopped, and all three of us tilted our heads to listen. I walked over to a dumpster under a street light, and a tiny black kitten ran mewing toward me. I scooped her up, and Gavin and Mike both ran in excited circles around me as we headed back to the car. Mike gently pulled the kitten off the back of my neck when she escaped my hands, made love-eyes and started squeaking at her, and I realized I would not be keeping the kitten. He needs the company anyway.

At work today, we suffered as a group from a strange bout of clean-it-ness, punctuated by impromptu yoga (which was Heather's fault). I assembled the Summer Reading Program mobiles and stood on a table to hang one above the kids' reading area, then peeled off the colorful clings and stared in horror at the state of the web- and mud-encrusted windows. A few minutes later I was standing outside with an industrial bucket of soapy water and my dress pants rolled up. People honked and yelled words of encouragement as I attacked the massive glass-covered building with a scrubber on a stick, shooing spiders and brushing grapefruit-sized wads of cobwebs off the children's windows. I banged the window and scrubbed extra hard where Heather's face periodically pressed against it on the other side. "'Scuse me, ma'am." I turned to find two young mormon boys in suits climbing off their bikes behind me. "Can I give you something?" A hand, perhaps? A power-washer? A boost up to the second story windows? "Here's a picture of Jesus." I started laughing, wiped my hands on my jeans, and stuffed it into my back pocket. "What's so funny?" I gestured at the building, my bucket, their bikes. "Oh... I see... sorry, here, maybe I could -" I was all set to hand him the scrubber, "- come by your house instead?" Haaahaha.

And so I have saved a baby, complicated and enhanced Mike's lonely life, and murdered possibly dozens of tiny hapless spidery souls.

burn

I wasn't surprised 5 years ago when John told me about his drag performances. "Giiiirl," he told me, "I could do your makeup. I'm good, for real. I can do you up glam, or I could make you look totally fishy." "Fishy?" "You know, like a girl. A wo-man." "I am a girl." "Yeah, but I could make you look like one." Last night I answered the phone and got the latest on my dear boy, who's little brother is having a very special wedding soon; "Yeah, girl, I'm ordained. Thank you internet, I'm a minister." "Wow! Does it expire?" "Nope, as long as I keep good records and don't get in trouble, I can marry anyone in the state of Hawaii forevers. Nice, eh?"

IKE-AAAH

"Smell that mountain air, suck it in. Mmmmm." We stood at a rest area outside Frazier Park, admiring the breeze while Gavin stomped around with his lip out. "I'm tired of driving." "Well, we'll let dad drive for a bit, then." As we drove on into the Left Armpit of Hell (Burbank), Mike pointed at a fire hazard sign. "Do you think it's ever not 'high'?" "Maybe when it snows? I dunno." The drive took longer than normal because Gavin thought false pee alarms would make the trip go faster, and we arrived at IKEA around noon. IKEA had it's way with us, and as we drove back over the mountain, a wall of smoke hit us, covering the highway in a white haze for more than 10 miles. The sun was a pinprick of orange. As we got back to Frazier Park, a line of firemen were spraying the wildfire. Bushes burned on the black crispy mountainside. We slowed and stared, made bad jokes about how hot we were, and decided never to move to Frazier Park after all.

tonight

Librarians On the Town Part II. Seeking further answers to pressing questions: does everyone have a cool name except me? Should I change mine to Reina Deth? How many bars downtown have pool tables, and which ones will allow me to win?

And for posterity, the week's Reference Questions Du Jours:

Where are the spiderman books for kids who can't read? Like, with no words?
Do you have a printout I can have of all your nonfiction books? Can you make one?
How much does it cost to rent a book?
Where are the books on how to kill yourself?
What do you mean 1183 minus 1133 is 50? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? It should be much higher, in the hundreds! How does that work? HOW? What kind of calculator are you using? TELL ME.

(feel free to add here, Marc.)