Ted, Ed and Tim

I watched the memorial service for Teddy Kennedy this weekend, which was really difficult for me.

I tend to cry relatively easily in normal circumstances, thus funerals for me, even those of people I have never met, are particularly hard to endure.

When I worked for Liberty Mutual the receptionist father died. He was elderly, in poor health and his death was not unexpected. I would not have known him in a crowd of one, yet at the service I found myself sobbing. It was somewhat embarrassing, as I seemed more upset than the immediate family.

"How did you know him?" a woman asked.

"A friend," I lied. I really couldn't tell the truth. It was one of my top ten psycho moments.

In the last three years I have buried two Grandmothers and my beloved Grandfather. I can say, without hesitation, I cried more at Ed Bradley's televised service than at all three services in aggregate.

I was able to hold it together for Kennedy's service because there were other people around, but when I watched Tim Russert's service I was home alone so my grief was unmitigated by the humiliation of crying, at times uncontrollably, for a person I had never met.

"You may have a detachment disorder," Gioconda has suggested more than a few times.

Since she frequently diagnoses me with a variety of psychological "challenges" most of the time she lacks credibility, yet I have to admit she may be on to something.

Its true I feel more connected to animals than I do most people, and at times the thought of being in solitary confinement is oddly attractive, yet I am now two people's mother so it seems as though I need to be more tethered to human beings, that is human beings I have actually met.


But then again, sometimes I find I like the people I have never met so much more than those I actually know....

A dog's life

For the past week I have been trying to catch one of our outdoor cats.   Filled with mattes I want to either shave him myself, or get him into a carrier and take him to the groomer.

The problem is that he is on to me.  Last week I actually had him in my arms and while placing him in the carrier he escaped, I haven't been able to get close to him since.

He doesn't seem to mind that his fur is basically a dread lock, but it really bothers me. 

He is simply more savvy than I am, so I'm not very confident I will ever nab him.

The white dog has been especially harsh with the bull dog this week, they got in a fight over a chew and the bull dog ended up with a sore on her head.  

These things are important to me.  Some may think these things are too important- but I don't care.  I like it that the cats come when I call them to eat, and that the dogs chew the chicken jerky strips each time as though it is the first time- I know its because of the food and not necessarily my company, still its nice to start your day with living beings who are absolutely thrilled to see you- EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Most animals possess a loyalty which simply is not present in my species.

None of my animals  (other than Pinnter) have ever gone through my wallet, none of my animals have ever cancelled dinner,  none of them have ever broken up with me ( its me not you- REALLY?- its always you).

I know, its hard for the animals to steal as the ones who live here do not have posable thumbs- but still I like to think even given the opportunity they wouldn't take advantage of the situation.

Sure, the Pug will try to run out the gate if given the chance, and for a while the foster dog (Ruby Tuesday- who Gioconda calls the "homeless dog" because she simply can not accept the fact the dog has a home- at 2107) was slipping through the fence, which I will add was particularly hurtful given the circumstance of her arrival as a foster dog in need of a home...but she seems to have over come this desire - in sum other than these limited occasions- all seem content.

Since I spend a great deal of my time  (more than 78%) worrying about something- from swine flu to global warming to my daughter's bowel movements (this is a recent worry), I do worry all my animals are happy- and healthy and getting enough of everything.

In fact, I would rank my concern of the well being of my animals in my top five of worries- that is I worry about my daughters -#1- and if I am honest the animals are #2- tied with Gioconda and the boys of course, ....my parents, sister and nephews are a strong #3- and then the rest of the top ten is filled with worry about money- the fact I am upside down on the property I own- and upside down on my car...and money-and my "investments" and then there is money... 

So lately my worries about my animals have manifested in my dreams.  Two nights ago I dreamed I lost my smallest dog in a casino, and I found her among the slot machines which is crazy because everyone knows the smallest dog (Chloe) only plays keno.

Which leads me to yet another worry- that is my preoccupation with gambling-I'll put this at a #13- behind skin cancer but in front of having a spider crawl in my ear and lay eggs on my brain.

 

Summer Break

This week all six kids were here- which means we add two, but those two are really messy- so its really like we added seven- so this week all 15 were here.

When the big boys come home they stay in the guest house which is why I just don't go back there.  When Gioconda lived at 144 East Pine she once told me she only went upstairs one time a day.

"I just can't handle more than that," she said.  At the time it seems insane to completely avoid an entire floor of your house, but now I so get it.

Tonight I had to go the guest house as all the lights were left on.  Apparently, there was a plan to hang meat as the temperature was a frosty 68.

Dishes, food, blankets, games scattered on the floor.

"After they use something do they just throw it directly in the air?" I asked Gioconda.

She shrugged.  She thinks I am too critical.

"You have no idea how most people live," she says.  Gioconda is the arbritor of nothing.

To Gioconda everyone earns $200k a year,   she enjoys crowds, and could live in a refrigerator box.  Things rarely bug her.

Clearly, she doesn't have a very firm grasp on reality.  

I admit I am neurotic about a clean house, yet there has to be something between my need for order and the collection of fast food bags and Girls Gone Wild videos on the floor.

The bigger question for me is who can eat a Big Mac combo meal while watching porno.  I get pizza, but a burger, that just seems unnatural. 

Christian left on Wednesday and Julien will leave Monday. Christian is actually not a messy as Julien so we lost 2.5 people with his departure, which puts the count at 8.5 here with us.

"Summer is almost over and it will be Christmas before you know it," she said yesterday, as if this was a good thing.

Great.  December.  Property tax and 7 additional people.

Both fat and old

We were at REI the other night.  I was trying on a pair of shoes, and when I bent down I fell.

To Gioconda's credit, she didn't immediately laugh hysterically as she normally would- as I had Camille strapped to the  front of me and I think she had a degree of concern for the baby, but once she discovered Camille was unharmed she laughed her ass off...to the point she was crying- literally.

It's really a bad combination, me who falls frequently- and she who would laugh even if I fell under a circular saw and sliced off a limb.  The degree of damage has no bearing on her, if you fall, even if you have a disfiguring scar as result, she will laugh.

Gioconda's been taking a lot of pictures lately, and I have noticed I look really old, so although I hail from a family of people who fall- most specifically, my mother- my tumble at REI was the perfect storm of my genetic predisposition, my age,  my weight- and add a 16 lbs baby riding on the front of my body, wrecking further havoc on my instability -  before I knew it I had fallen- and I couldn't get up.

My first thought was Fred Murphy's* mother.  When I was in the second grade Fred Murphy's father took a hammer and hit Fred's mother in the head- killing her.    Fred Murphy's mother was over weight and matronly.  Once when we were in kindergarten class I saw her trip and catch herself just as she was going down.

In my second grade mind, her death somehow was mitigated by her appearance, and her inability to remain up right during a simple walk across the playground.

Doing the math, it would appear as though I now have quite a bit in common with Fred Murphy's mother- old, fat and clumsy.   I am hopeful to not have the same demise, I tend to keep sharp  and heavy objects out of the locations in which I might be sleeping or at rest to avoid a sneak attack-I'm on my toes, which I am guessing she wasn't.   

My question- when did I become this person?  This may somehow be connected to my recently becoming a parent- yet I am simply unable to pin point a date and time.  

"The worse part is it was at REI.  Everyone who shops there is into the outdoors, or at the very least athletic," Gioconda said on the ride home.

"I mean, those people are climbing boulders, backpacking on trails, cross country skiing...," she continued.

"I got it," I replied.  

It was not enough I was internally comparing myself to Fred Murphy's dead (fat,clumsy) mother,  I also had to negotiate the fact I essentially tipped over, rolling to the left and then to the right before I was able to right myself with the help of Gioconda, in front of a bunch of skinny coordinated assholes.  

*although the story of Fred Murphy's mother is completely true the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Dog the Bounty Hunter

On tonight's episode of Dog the Bounty Hunter, Dog and his entourage were questioning the father of a woman they were trying to find.  Apparently, his daughter was wanted on a $50,000.00 bond, and Dog was going to bring her in.

While explaining to Dog he had no idea of the whereabouts of his daughter his top false teeth flew out of his mouth onto the orange shag carpet.

This led me to ponder, on reflection, which point was lower for this guy.  The point he realized Dog the Bounty Hunter was at his door trying to find his daughter, or the point he felt his teeth project across the room, only to be later broadcast on cable.

Clearly, he signed a release which resulted in tonight's show,  which leads me to further ponder, could there be a worse moment in this dude's life which he wouldn't allow to be shown on national TV? 

Spitting your teeth like a projectile in front of a room full of strangers...and its filmed and the film is shown...really?  Is there something worse?

One time when I was in high school I got a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe and I drug it around for at least five minutes before I saw it and the embarrassment  haunted me for the second half of my sophomore year...and no one even took a still photo of it.

It leads me to be believe the lure of even a limited amount of fame is enough to compel a person allow themselves to be seen in a very - very - very - compromised situation.  

As I have said before, I would have no issue with exploiting every resident of 2107,  my extended family, close and marginal friends  in order to have a reality show if I meant I could make money without "traditional" work.    

I have my teeth, there is no danger of that happening to me....

The Zoo Life

Since we have children now we do cool things on the weekends.

Last week we went to the LA Zoo.  Although the girls didn't seem to really respond to the animals, Camille fell asleep and Sadie was preoccupied with a hat I bought for her, I enjoyed myself,  although I am not quite sure why.

Overall, that zoo is pretty bleak.  I mean, at some point it was new, right?  It seemed dingy, the animals were unenthusiastic, I think one of the apes may have flipped me off.  If I was a zoo animal, and I would like to add if I was an animal I would WANT to be a zoo animal, I think I would rather be in San Diego.

I certainly wouldn't want to be at one of those zoos who sell the animals to hunting farms, and I would want to have the basics, but I don't need to be in a pen that I could run around, because I wouldn't be running.  I'm in a cage, nothing is chasing me,  that is the real beauty of being a zoo animal.

I know there those who argue wild animals should be in their habitat(s).

Really?  I'm a elephant living in Africa.  Oh no, here comes Mr. Poacher to get my tusks to make someone a bracelet...or I am a jaguar on the Serengeti...oh no, here comes global warming and I can't find any life sustaining  food or water .  I'm a water buffalo in Montana grazing along minding my own business...oh no here come the hungry lions to maul me and begin to eat my flesh while I am still alive.

Once you are an adult in the animal kingdom, you are on your own.  No one does your hunting or grazing for you. Sure you might live in a pride or herd, or gaggle,  yet with groups politics are always a factor, and you think everything is fine until the buck who you never really felt comfortable around begins texting your mate.

By far the best option is the zoo life.   Your food is brought to you, and its stuff you like the most, your bedding or cave is just how you like it-because the zoo wants you to be happy so you don't die...so that people can bring their twin daughters to look at you, but one will be sleeping and one will be playing with her hat.