Friday, February 24, 2006

This is the first day of the rest of my life...

I found this polorid taken of me the day I brought Darian home from the hospital. I wonder what I was thinking here.

Gerbil babies are Soooooo cute...

originally uploaded by lilblackcat.
They are finally getting fur. Now if I could just get a good photo of them. They all look like the papa gerbil.


My redheaded step-child

Thursday, February 23, 2006


My mom has a blog! My Mom's Blog

Violence - Gallantry - Stupidity

Why do certain men feel better about themselves by acting abusive towards women? There are few things I hate more than an abusive man.
One of my oldest friends is in the process of breaking up with an abusive man. This evening said man got drunk and started getting out of control. I could hear him from my apartment (they live in my building) so I decided to go make sure he understood that she was not alone and he needed to leave.
He has no problem acting abusive towards her or her daughter because they are smaller than him, but he is a very little man and I am at least four inches taller than him and one hundred times more confident in my abilities to “take him” if need be. I also take issue if someone raises their voice at me. I just don't do it, I refuse to engage in yelling matches, and no one yells at me ever.
Abusive men don’t like strong women who will stand up to them and stay in control of their emotions. In fact they don’t like anyone who will stand up to them, I think that is why they are so angry because they generally feel weak in every day life.
I also grew up in a house with all men 6’3 and above. There is nothing his 5’5 and 140 pound self could dish out that I could not take.

I went up and asked him to leave in a very level yet stern tone. He started flipping out on me. He called me several names rhyming with itch and punt and then he lurched towards me.

In my head I am thinking, “This guy is obviously drunk and violent and I think he thinks he is going to either belittle me, hit me, or scare me into backing down. Should I take this time to call the police or should reason with him to leave without getting the cops involved?”

My head is being all rational while I am standing there with my hands in my pockets and he is screaming less than an inch from my nose.
Then this pops out of my mouth in a very even, matter of fact, Dirty Harry, tone, “Listen to me, I am not at all afraid of you. If you don’t get out of my face I will pepper spray you so fast your head will spin. Don’t test me because you have no idea how much I really want to.”
He jumped back out of my face really fast and proceeded to scream at me what a horrible person I was and ranting on and on until finally marching away off into the night.

What was funny to me was every time he called me a name I took it as a huge compliment.

Now that it is over and he is gone I am thinking to myself; that was a really stupid thing for me to get involved in and crazy people are seriously dangerous and what the bloody hell was I thinking?
I should have just called the police.
This is real life! Did I not learn anything from that lady who got shot getting mugged because she mouthed off to her mugger?
I may be a total scrapper in my head but faced against sheer crazy! What the hell am I thinking? I know all the statistics about domestic violence murders. I have seen all of the women on the news who go missing, and it turns out later they were murdered by their crazy ex husbands, boyfriends, stalkers…
I don’t have super powers and I am not bulletproof.
So my attitude went from proud of myself for helping a sista out to really disappointed in myself for putting myself in such a potentially dangerous position.

I am so much smarter than that. I need to remember to listen to my brain and not my inner scrappy Alaskan the next time something like that happens.

This gets filed under "What was I thinking?"

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Right now all your dreams are waking up...

Today my head is filled with Joseph Arthur songs and my eyes are filled with images of children kicking a ball around on a field.

One of my favorite co-workers moved to a different job yesterday. This meant I was upgraded to a coveted window seat. My window looks out over a transit bus stop and a beautiful park the city spent a lot of money on to completely make over in the last year. I wonder how much this will increase my daydreaming? (like I need any help with that)

I feel 100% better today as compared to yesterday. It is amazing how much better life is when you actually wake up on time and have the time to do everything you need to before you start your day. I took an extra long shower and took advantage of my empty apartment by singing off key in it (LOUDLY) and then I put on a pretty dress and actually did my hair and make up. The result, I feel good. And apparently feeling good equates to looking good because when I went to get coffee a moment ago I was propositioned twice. Not that I ever know what to say to those random street compliments/proposals of marriage. I usually just say thank you and giggle. Too silly.

Observations for the week:

I've learned more about living and myself from my little girl in the last year than from any other source or time in my whole life.

Children are born brilliant. Adults ruin them.

Just because you are an entertainer doesn't mean your friends expect you to entertain them. They just want you to know they care and like to see you every now and then.

As much as I hated my hometown growing up, I am finding that I actually miss it as I get older. I just can't pinpoint what it is exactly that I miss. Maybe it is just knowing that I come from somewhere and wishing I had roots.

Why? and What if? are two questions that will always lead to moments of brilliance or trouble. More often than not; trouble.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Since feeling is first, who pays attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you.

The first time he almost kissed me was in a parking lot standing between two cabs, one to take him home to his wife the other to take me to the airport. We chickened out.

The second time was our first kiss. It was in an airport in Alaska. He saw me when he stepped off the plane a free man for the first time in years. He dropped his bags and rushed to me. We kissed and kissed and kissed... like it is something we had been doing forever.

The Second first time was nearly seven years later. We were at a party. We had been flirting for days. This time he was single and I was not. I could not take it anymore so I grabbed his arm and pulled him into a closet (The only place in the party we could be alone) I kissed him in the closet with all of the coats in the dark. We kissed until someone opened the door, we handed them their coat shut the door and kissed some more. Again, we said goodbye with two taxis going to two different places. Mine going home to my boyfriend, his going to the other side of town.

The third first kiss was two years later. I showed up at his house with my bags in my hands. He opened the door and looked at the bags quizzically. I told him we needed to be together. He was going to either let me come in or I was going to sleep on the porch. (I was really hoping that he would let me in.) I came in told him I never wanted to not be with him again, it was too hard on my heart. He kissed me in response. We were married almost exactly a year later.

Third time's a charm?

Monday, February 20, 2006

Safe Travels...

On the road again: Jon is traveling with Big Star now. After that he goes to Australia with the Posies. Then he gets home long enough to go to SXSW. I will be attending this year. I'm super excited as I have only ever been to NXNW.

It looks like we will be going to NYC in May if everything works out according to plan. Road Trip!

I finished a new song this weekend. I'm really happy with how it turned out. I'm going to have Jon record it when he is home for more than five minutes. I suppose I could record it myself and actually utilize that $30,000 education, but where is the fun in that?

I finally went to see Walk The Line. I really liked it, but I have to say if you are married to a musician who tours 75% of the time and just left on tour again, it is NOT the best movie to go see. I'm just sayin'...

Oh and one last thing. Swing by there is a whole bunch of new stuff including Pre-orders for Jon's new record and a new video.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

My First Kiss

Once upon a time there lived a boy.

He would kiss me with wet lips that tasted like peppermint gum.

His hands would sweat and shake whenever he touched me.

I would giggle and shy away.

He smelled like the popular colognes the cute boys wore in high school

He had pale skin and freckles that you could only see when you were really close to his face.

He had soft curly hair that always hung in his eyes.

He could never look me in the eye too long without his cheeks turning pink and his stare hitting the floor.

I first saw him with his nose in a book hiding in the back of the class on the first day of school. He was new and painfully shy. The other kids ignored him because he didn’t seem to present anything entertaining to their two-dimensional worlds.

I found him intriguing.

During lessons he would not be the first to raise his hand, but in an effort to get him to come out of his shell, the teacher would call on him regularly. Somehow he always knew the answers and when he spoke it was eloquent beyond his years.
I was loud, blonde and bubbly. I had a close circle of friends and being the class clown was my favorite past time. I would sit down in the seat behind his every day. I would ask him loads of questions, which he would quietly answer with less than three words in a tone audible only to mice. He would never turn around unless I poked him in the back and waited for him to turn around.
I decided that I would have to get his attention a different way so I started sitting in the desk in front of him, therefore he was my captive audience. He had to face forward so he could not ignore me.
Every day I would go to class and every day he would try really hard to not make eye contact with me. In my frustration my fascination with this boy grew. I decided this boy would be the first boy I would kiss.

All of my friends found my attraction bizarre and somehow typical of my clowning around. They would tease me about my “mouse boy” and sometimes even tease him with the nickname. After I argued why this had to be the first boy I kissed, many of my girl friends started to find themselves strangely attracted to him too.

I tried everything! I borrowed pencils, offered up sticks of gum and treats in my lunch, hung my coat next to his and stood next to him in line. He would just watch me over his glasses from behind his books and the hair in his eyes.

A few years went by, still no first kiss.

We moved from elementary school to Junior high school. He was assigned to the seat behind mine in our typing class. At this point I had almost given up. I was so frustrated. No matter what I did he ignored me. I wore cute skirts, did my hair, practiced “fascinating conversations” to have with him. I managed to get the attention of nearly every boy in my class but not the one I wanted!

One night, on a whim, I stopped at a hair salon in the mini mall near my house where we all hung out. I walked in and sat down in the first open chair. The hairdresser asked if I would like a trim.
My hair was as long as it had ever been. It was nearly touching the top of my pants.
I said, “I want you to cut it all off.”
She asked, “Oh my gosh! Are you sure? Your hair is so beautiful!”
“Yes, cut it all off.” I said

I walked into class the next day with a super short pixie cut. I sat at the desk in front of my mouse boy.
“Oh my god! What did you do to your hair?” I heard him exclaim from behind me, “It was so pretty! Where did it all go?”
I turned around and looked him square in the face and said, “So that is all I needed to do to get you to talk to me? Had I known that I would have shaved my head years ago!”
He blushed and looked down at his desktop, “Do you want to sit next to me at lunch today?” he asked
“I would love to!” I answered

By Friday we were meeting up behind the skating rink and by curfew he walked me home and held my hand. When we got to my street he kissed me so intensely, his bright green mint chewing gum ended up in my mouth.

When I got home I stuck the gum between the pages of my journal and drew a little heart around it to remeber my first kiss.

We never kissed again.

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