If you look over there —–> you will see some of the labels I have given myself. Two of them are “Child of the 80’s” and “Cynical Gen X’er.”

In the late 80’s and early 90’s, the housing market in California sucked. If you are taking notes at home, that’s spelled: S-U-C-K-E-D.

In fifth grade, some bureaucratic career-enhancing school board member decided to do some residential rezoning. My three favorite classmates lived on “that side of the line.” They were transferred to the other elementary, and filtered into the other jr. high and high school. I’ve run into each of them once since then. If they acknowledged that they knew me, I got “Hey.” No Good Byes.

When I was nine years old, my next door neighbor and best friend Angela was the youngest of 5. Her father’s job was eliminated in California, he was laid off and told he could have a job in Missouri. Up went the Cent*ry 21 Sign. It stayed in their front yard for two years. TWO YEARS, her family of 7 lived off of savings and credit cards. Two years, they talked about moving, selling the house, getting out of California, getting back to work. Every day for two years I looked out our dining room window and watched the top of the For Sale sign. Just before 6th grade, I was packed in the car and told to go to the city Labor Day parade. When I finally got home from that stupid parade, she was already gone. No Good Byes.

In sixth grade I met Amber & Laura, and in seventh grade I met Lee. Laura was too cool for words. She looked older, and had seen it all because she had 2 older sisters. She was just so far above all of the juvenile social drama. The first dayof 7th grade, her name was called off the choir roster. A classmate who lived near her said she’d moved back to South Dakota over the summer. Poof. Just like that. No Good Byes.

Whether she liked it or not, Amber was just as goofy as me. We were thick as thieves for a year or two, and then one day she said “You know, I’ve noticed that a lot of my friends just aren’t very… cool.” Well, you can’t fault honesty. She got herself a new crowd, and I hung out with other friends like Lee. Some time around 8th grade, her mother got transferred to Idaho. Her mother was transferred back eventually, but our friendship was never the same. Today, she still hasn’t added me as a “friend” on my*space. No Good Byes.

In ninth grade, another School board Hopeful rezoned the high schools. And, of course, Lee lived on the other side of the line. I clung to her, or at least the idea of her through all of 9th grade even though we were growing apart. After 9th grade, I even signed up to be a Cub Scout counselor so that I could have some time with her that summer. But high school is high school, as we started figuring out who we were; we had less and less in common. Junior year, I was the *last* person to find out that she was pregnant. That still hurts… but it was my own darn fault. She ended up moving to Kansas with her (now-ex) husband. No Good Byes.

After high school and college it wasn’t so hard. The high school kids a grade older move on, and you never have time to visit the kids a grade younger when your out. It just kind of happens: kids filter in, adults filter out. No Good Byes.

In college, it was only hard to see friends move on because of my childhood experiences. I finally had a little control of my own life enough to be able to visit the classmates who move to another county. It stings when they’re farther away, but not so bad because I can plan a 3 day weekend to go see them, and don’t have to beg for the parent’s permission.

Now, if I screw up my friendship with someone – It’s my fault and not some job, housing market, bubble, or parental whim. Why did she leave the state to go find herself without saying Good Bye? Why the hell wasn’t she the maid of honor at my wedding? Because I was a sucky friend, that’s why. No Good Byes.

Its not fair. This one isn’t my fault. Today, California is knee-deep in another decade of real-estate suckage. Plants are closing, gasoline costs more than fancy-assed name brand orange juice, and 300K buys a 60-year-old-teeny-tiny-fixer-upper-starter-condo-that-has-creepy-neighbors-and-no-yard-and-needs-new-plumbing. Can anyone out there prove that God isn’t laughing at me? Bring it on! I dare you!

I’m 9 years old and I hurt. All over again. I’m back at the dinning room window waiting for that inevitable sale sign, praying that I don’t get forced to go sit at another stupid parade. This time, I’m on strike! No Good Byes.

Paranoid delusion or tongue in cheek?

http://www.adcritic.com/interactive/assets/aclu-pizza/

DH has set about the task of collecting the documents that we’ll need to show the immigration offical that our marriage is “legitimate.” We were told to photocopy everything from our marriage license to old letters that we’ve sent eachother. DH came home with a stack of photocopies < ---------------> this thick and two hundred(!?!?!) 4″x6″ prints of every. single. thing. we. have. done. together. over. the. last. thee. years.

Well, it was his project and I didn’t have to mess with it so he got to choose. But please – someone tell me: whyyyyyy did he choose this picture? What was he thinking when he thought that this would be a good picture to show to the person who decides wether he stays in this country legally or not?

Ok, Ok, Fine, I know. If I don’t want him to take goofy pictures of me like this then I shouldn’t be puttin on the hat in the first place. I suppose its a good thing that he’s willing to be seen in public with That Woman Who Is Trying On The Crazy Hat. 

Of course the first thing I did when I saw that he had printed this picture was squalk! Just to get at me, he told me he wants to frame it. OK, FINE… but only if I get to frame this picture right next to it.

 

Ok, so the first trimester (of teaching!!!) has been kicking my butt.
Every spare minute of free time has been spent pouring over lesson plans, handouts, books, software, and the internet. I’ve gotten fat from spending every spare minute sitting at the computer. I’m rarely home to cook dinner, let alone eat it… It gets easier after this, right?

Also, In the last few months:

I made it through the busy season at my day job, events planned, excecuted, paid for, and books balanced.

The last week in March, I taught my first night class, attended my first professional conference, taught the first night of my second night class, then caught a 6am flight to my second conference – a weekend in Lake Tahoe.

 In April, it was more of the same. Work the day, teach or plan lessons at night. One night after my class ended at 10pm, we caught a red eye to Detroit for my husban’ds cousin’s wedding. First thing in the morning we landed, and drove a rental car to the hotel. You’ve heard the rumors about traffic in L.A., it is bad, but nothing like Michigan.
Here’s my theory. L.A. weather is good, so people can spend the money to buy a nice car and keep it nice for a decade without having to worry about rust damage. But those people live in L.A. where there are more than 10 million other people on the road. Sure, drivers are impatient and sick of waiting in line just to get on a freeway… but they like their cars and would like to keep them nice for the decade that it will take to pay them off. This puts at least some limit on driver agression.
It don’t work that way in Detroit. As my grandperz used to say: “Seems to me that…” Detroit drivers are all related to someone who works at the local automobile factory. With their company discount, they can afford to replace their cars every time they smash them up. I did not see one blinker blink on one car with Michigan plates! I was cut off by old ladies, and tailgaited for driving at the posted speed limit! Sure, the roads are wide enough to pass on the left or the right, and the onramps are wide enough that you wont flip your car over if you take it at 50 miles an hour but SHEESH PEOPLE!

In May, hubby and I both started taking advantage of my new dental insurance. Maaaaaan! We have good insurance and we are still paying a ton of money!! Is it childish to say that I’m proud that he needs more work done than I do?
I will say that after 27 years of putting dentist’s children through college, I finally found a new dentist who would bother to waste his time teaching me how to brush and floss.
I was shown how to brush once  when I was five, and every year after that I was scolded by the dentist and repremanded by my parents because my teeth were never good enough to be left alone.  
Also, it doesn’t hurt that the new dentist has cable T.V…. and he lets me pick the channel i want to watch during my fillings!

DH also had a birthday in May. He does more wonderful things for me than he’ll ever even relize so I wanted to do something special for his birthday. Something big, something nice, something new, something special. The only thing his heart desired… He wanted to see STOMP. again. For. the. third. time. That’s not new, that’s not different, and its not special if he’s already seen it twice. I did pout. A lot. But it’s his birthday and its the only thing he wanted.
It was fun. You should see it next time its in town. I only needed earplugs for the last 15 minutes of the show. 
Mostly to make myself feel better, I bought him some Omaha Steaks online. This meant learning to use that weird thing called a broiler. And learning what medium-rare looks like. And remembering not to pull the broiler drawer all the way out of the oven. again.

O! We just found out that the Hamiltons are coming to town. TWICE in two weeks!!!! We get to babysit IJ! Are you jealous yet? I’ve already quequed the Elmo DVD’s at N*tflix! Can you see the exclaimation points! Can you tell I’m excited!! Next time I’m gonna have to tell them not to tell me they’re coming until 3 days before, I just can’t take the anticipation!

Stay tuned for scenes from next week’s episodes: “10 Hour Days”, “Why did you pick *that* picture to show to the Immigration Officials”, and “What’s In a Name.”