Another Actual Conversation

Girlfriend: (looking around the road and parking lots while driving)

Boyfriend: What are you looking for?

Girlfriend: A Focus.

Boyfriend: A what?

Girlfriend: A Ford Focus. I count them, as I drive every day.

Boyfriend: Why are you looking so hard now?

Girlfriend: I've only seen twenty-four.

Boyfriend: How many do you need to see?

Girlfriend: It's not how many, it's just that I can't end at twenty four. Twenty four is not a ......... round number. It was ok until I saw one a minute ago, then I only had twenty three. Twenty three is ok, thats my lucky number. But twenty four, that isn't anything. I can't go home tonight only having seen twenty four, you know?

(long silence)

Girlfriend: A little crazy just slipped out, there, didn't it?

Boyfriend: Yeah.

In my lair, instead of a crystal ball, I will divine the future from a seeded dandylion.

I will buy this sink and have bathtub made to match it. 

Tea of the morning

Ooolong.

As a thank you to everyone who read my rants about my mother and kindly refrained from telling me to 'get over it'...... I will now post a funny story

A man is walking home one night when he spots a woman in the shadows.
"Quick fun just $20" she whispers seductively as he gets to her.
He'd never been with a hooker before, but he decides what the hell? It's been awhile, he's running early, and it's only $20.
So he steps into the bushes with her and very soon, they're going at it. Suddenly a light flashes on them -- it's a cop.
"What's going on here?" asks the officer.
"I'm making love to my wife," the man answers indignantly.
"Oh, I'm sorry," says the cop, "I didn't know."
"Well," said the man, "neither did I, until you shined that light in her face."

I would like to announce my retirement from the sport of 'mothering an emotional child who just so happens to be my mother'.

She called and canceled dinner tonight. Said she was too stressed out about it and didn't know when she would be up to it. Because, of course, the world revolves around here and we must all pamper her and never say anything unpleasant. Those are the rules of the game.

The watchman to my lair. 

If/when I build my lair, this will be the road to it. 

"Blankity blank, you blanking blank!"

Do you ever wonder if the reason God created cats without the ability to speak is because they would have such filthy language? I read somewhere that "once, every thousand years, one cat is allowed to speak". Lets hope it's not Maximus, he would let loose a string of words that would singe your eyebrows, words I'm sure he's been saving up since that time I tried to coax him to wear a top hat or the time I stepped on his paw, tried to jump up off it, and off-kilter, landed on his tail.

If I ever build a secret lair (and the odds are good), it will be here.

So sad.....

PDB Obituary
It is with the saddest heart that I pass on the following. Please join mein remembering a great icon.The Pillsbury Dough boy died yesterday of a yeast infection andcomplications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was only 71. Dough boywas buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned outto pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, theCalifornia Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies and CaptainCrunch.The grave site was piled high with flours, as long-time friend Aunt Jemimadelivered the eulogy, describing Dough boy as a man who never knew howmuch he was kneaded. Dough boy rose quickly in show business but his laterlife was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie,wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a littleflaky at times, he even still, as a crusty old man, was considered a rollmodel for millions. Toward the end it was thought that he would riseagain, but alas, he was no tart.Dough boy is survived by his wife, Play Dough, two children, John Doughand Jane Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by hiselderly father, Pop Tart. The funeral was held at 3:50 for about twentyminutes.

Name them one by one............

Last night I called my mother and arranged a time to meet "Prophet Bob". Tomorrow night. Dinner. She asked jokingly if I had done any research and I told her I had and that I was quite concerned. I took a deep breath and told her that he raised more red flags than I could count, that I thought she was moving far, FAR too quickly, and that I wanted better for her. I was calm, kind and specific. I really thought I was emotionally prepared for all the research, praying, and thinking to be swept aside, but when it actually happened, it stung. She had asked what I thought. I put a lot of effort, time, money and concern into my answer. I knew I had one shot and I did my best. But when she said, "Oh Sarah, you just don't understand how wonderful he is", all I could do was cry. I knew it might happen that way, in fact I honestly thought it would. But when it did.................
But after I hung up with her I realized that I should count my blessings.
1. I can always look back at that moment and realize that I did the right thing. I didn't shirk, yell or chicken out.
2. After hanging up the phone with her I realized that I had in my phone a whole address book of people who support me and love me. That I could dial any number in there (with the possible exception of Graywood Kennels, where I take my cat when I travel, but even she is very sweet) and hear a friendly, caring voice. My actual family might suck, but God has blessed me with amazing people to fill the void. My kids won't lack adopted grandparents and aunts and uncles. And I don't hurt of lack of 'family'.
3. And my favorite person was waiting for me at his house, just waiting to silently hug me and wipe tears away and hold my hand. Thank you JR.
4. I don't have to continue my parent's legacy of bad choices. I can, have already and will continue to make something better of myself.
5. I have a nice roof over my head, a nice car, enough money for all of my needs and most of my wants.
6. I have a job I enjoy, and a chance to make a difference in kids lives with my volunteer work, all in all, some good reasons to get up in the morning.
7. I have a meaningful life.
And last night as I snuggled into my nice warm bed and watched Breakfast at Tiffanys as I dozed off with a cat purring beside me, and Holly Golightly says the part about how she won't name the cat until she finds a place where things go together, I realized that my cat deserves all three of his names.

Maximus denies paternity, but I have my doubts........ 

Batman's getting a wee bit careless these days. What's next, a gift shop? 

Gee, hope it wasn't too urgent of an emergency. 

Maybe I'll just sit in my car and cry. 

Oops, not that secret anymore. 

Well, it appears he didn't exist before 1994

My Soon-to-be-Dear-Step-Dad has no history whatsoever prior to 1994, unless my extensive background search is wrong. Mr Bob "I'm going to take care of your mother"Garrette had a bankruptcy in 1999. My mother is such a lucky woman.

The best news I've heard all week

From the Yahoo Newsroom

A nice cup of tea could hold back Alzheimer's, scientists say.

LONDON (AFP) - A steaming cup of tea, the relaxing drink of choice for millions in countries such as Britain and China, could help ward off the effects of Alzheimer's disease (news - web sites), scientists said.
AFP/File Photo

Laboratory tests found that regular cups of green and black tea inhibit the activity of certain enzymes in the brain which bring on Alzheimer's, a form of generative dementia that affects an estimated 10 million people worldwide.
The research by the Medicinal Plant Research Centre at Newcastle University, northeast England, is published in academic journal Phytotherapy Research.
Scientists tested coffee as well as green and black tea, the latter of which -- the variety enjoyed by most Britons -- is derived from the same plant as the green variety but has a different taste and appearance as it is fermented.
The results found that while coffee had no significant effect, both green and black tea inhibited the activity of enzymes associated with the development of Alzheimer's.
According to the journal, tea inhibited the activity of the enzyme acetylcholinesterase (AChE), which breaks down the chemical messenger, or neurotransmitter, acetylcholine. Alzheimer's is characterised by a drop in acetylcholine.
Green tea and black tea also hinder the activity of the enzyme butyrylcholinesterase (BuChE), seen in protein deposits found on the brains of patients with Alzheimer's.
However green tea alone had a further effect, obstructing the activity of beta-secretase, which has a role in the production of protein deposits in the brain associated with Alzheimer's.
The effects of green tea also last for a week, scientists found, as against only a day for black tea.
"Although there is no cure for Alzheimer's, tea could potentially be another weapon in the armoury which is used to treat this disease and slow down its development," said head researcher Dr Ed Okello.
"It would be wonderful if our work could help improve the quality of life for millions of sufferers and their carers.
"Our findings are particularly exciting as tea is already a very popular drink, it is inexpensive, and there do not seem to be any adverse side effects when it is consumed.
"Still, we expect it will be several years until we are able to produce anything marketable."

The best way I could think of spending $100

There are simply no stars like stars seen from the desert. JR and I left friday night at seven, with his brother Billy following, to drive to Ocotillo Wells. It's a lovely drive, first up through the mountains to Julian, (a little mountain town that was originally the center of San Diego during the Gold Rush, before it occurred to anyone that the giant bay would be the future of the city) then over the mountains, winding through starlit canyons while listening to Southern Cross by Crosby, Stills and Nash (what heaven taught you and me cannot be forgotten) and down Banner Grade to the desert floor, which is dotted with the occasionally granite mountain, sticking up like irregular pyramids. We pulled into the state park, where JR's parents where waiting with Daisy (their dog) and Keno (JR's dog) , their new trailer and a couple of quads. So began the sandfest. Good things about the desert. You can see more stars there than any other place (clear air, little to no clouds), beautiful lingering 'dims' at sunrise and sunset, neverending sand for exploring on a quad, warm sand and cool breezes (this time of year). Bad things. The teaspoon of sand that promptly lodges itself in your bodily crevices, the fine sand dust that never stops blowing into everything, causing your nose to run, the snot mixing with the dust to create a paste which is promptly dried by the hot dry air into a cement-like layer in your nostrils. Sitting on a bench that folds down to become your bed and folds up to become a parking spot for a quad. Sitting in a tiny box of a trailer, attempting to have a conversation with your boyfriends mother that somehow ends with the words, "but I'm not a virgin*" and then realizing that there is no alcohol for MILES to ease this moment of silence.
*(note to my Jr. Highers, this falls under the category of 'Stupid choices Sarah used to make before she grew up and pulled her life together' that we've discussed before and is NOT meant to reflect current choices and lifestyles.)
But the good far outweighed the bad, and JR and I had a lovely weekend, racing around on quads and NOT thinking about my mother and the bad Lifetime Channel movie she's making of her life. I'd never ridden a quad before this weekend and was pretty proud that I neither wrecked it nor fell off nor wussed out and got scared. I rode everything but the big main downhill slope in the blowsand, but that was because I got JR's quad stuck three-fourths of the way up and had to ask for help getting it out. I figure fear of ruining a very expensive piece of machinery was an acceptable reason to turn back. There weren't many girls there, the breast to beer gut ratio was about 1-8. Every time I saw a girl ride by our campsite I wanted to yell "You Go, Girl! REP-PRE-SEN-NT!" as I doodled on my sketchpad and thought about which bath oil I was going to soak in the minute I got home. Someone told us that there was a small gift shop about a mile or two down the road so of course, being a fan of tacky junk with names of places painted on it by a chinese child somewhere, I had to go. But when I go there all they had was a bunch of stuff like tank tops and thongs with the words 'Desert Diva' and 'Desert Princess' written on it, and since I hadn't bathed in two days, I wasn't really feeling in touch with my inner diva, assuming I even have one. Not a paperweight or snowglobe to be bought, so when we went back to the campsite where I made my own souvenirs. A large piece of rose quartz, found half-buried near the dumpster, is my new doorstop. A small slab of layered sandstone with flecks of fools gold, found near the fire pit, with a zig-zag break right down it's center, my new bookends. A polished riverstone with a tealight-sized depression in it's center is my new candleholder. And a little 'L' shaped chunk of granite will make a perfect throne for the clay wizard that Bunny's son Peter sculpted for me. And I learned that WetNaps and lotion kept in the fridge make a pretty reasonable substitute for a shower.
The drive back was very pretty, and we stopped in Julian at a yard sale where I bought a copy of 'Walk Across America' and a large print for my wall. The print is of a woman sitting, looking out of a window with a soft, patient expression on her face and it cost me all of a dollar. Score!
When I got back I got a report from Bunny, who actually got to meet 'Bob the Prophet' over the weekend. He just sounds better and better. Apparently he couldn't stop oogling Bunny's sixteen year old daughter (both Bunny and Jessica independently confirmed this, and they're both people with an uncanny sense of peoples' character). He's been married twice and considers those divorces 'totally not my fault'. They weren't 'committed enough to my ministry'. They apparently didn't appreciate being left with the kids and no financial support while he traipsed around the country, 'doing God's will'. Because according to him, God would provide, if they had enough faith. Doesn't he sound like a gem? A good, godly family man? Oh, and a little checking online turned up that he ran for Governor of Nebraska in '98. One of those people who apparently have the idea that you don't need a staff or a budget or any of those pesky little details to win a major election. Working in political offices for all those years, I met people like that. They're utterly harmless to the general public, but capable of causing quite a bit of damage to anyone stupid enough to trust them. I also learned that while he and my mother were in Omaha, his daughter who lives there couldn't find the time to see them or meet my mother. Admittedly, that could mean anything from her being busy to her simply not caring. But it might have some connection with his apparent taste for staring at young girls. Maybe she doesn't speak to him similar reasons to the ones that I don't speak to my father over. And I intend to find out. I'm going to ask her. In fact, I've decided to run a complete background check on him. Cost me a hundred bucks for the premium package at www.anywho.com and I should have results by tomorrow. I'm not doing this for my mother, but rather for me. I want to know what exactly I'm dealing with here, for my safety's sake. Should I tell the 'happy couple' my address? Do I need to be worried or just ignore this ignorant little pissant? See, Bunny and I had a long chat last night and I've decided not to listen to the devil on my one shoulder saying to let Mums do whatever she wants, and also not to listen the angel on my other shoulder telling me to save her. I'm going to remind myself not to care. I wanted better for her, but those are my standards, not hers, and I shouldn't hold her up to them. She asked for my opinion, although she clearly didn't really want it, and after I give it, I'm going to sleep the sleep of the clear-conscienced and never say another word about it. I'm going to run this check, tell her exactly what I think of him and then later when she's left pennyless in some godforsaken state she can't whine (like she always does) "No one told me it was a bad idea!". I'm also going to mention that if she marries this guy, she forfeits any chance of babysitting any child I ever have. Jessica and Bunny might be wrong, maybe never a perverted thought entered his head, but if there is even a question of it, that they're right, then that's too much of a risk as far as I'm concerned.
After that, I'm done.
My new mantra -
I DON'T REALLY CARE.
I DON'T REALLY CARE.
I DON'T REALLY CARE.
Wow, I feel better already.

I'm rooting for the turkey vultures.....

From the Yahoo Newsroom

MUNCIE, Ind. - Turkey vultures have taken over Gwendolyn Griem's backyard and made a mess of it.

Around 50 of the soaring, carrion-consuming birds have flocked to Griem's yard in a gated subdivision in Muncie. They have ruined her patio furniture, stressed the shrubbery and even damaged the roof of her home, Griem told the Muncie Star Press for a story Monday.
"Droppings are everywhere," Griem said. "They've made the patio unusable. The lawn people don't even like to mow it."
The birds have a 6-foot wingspan and can grow to be 32 inches tall, said Roger Hedge, an ecologist with the Indiana Department of Natural Resources.
Most of the birds should head south for the winter, he said.
"To have turkey vultures flock like that in town, that's beyond me," Hedge said.
Karen Gibson, a supervisor in Muncie's animal control office, said the birds are federally protected.
"You can't even trap them," she said.
Tim Dale, who operates a Critter Control franchise in Portland, has reduced the size of the flock by shooting fireworks into the air, but not all of them have been shooed away.
"They feel safe here, and now we're taking that safety away from them," he said. "They will be back to check it out next year, and we may have to chase them off once or twice. But they'll get discouraged and go."
The birds probably lost their previous roosting place due to development, Dale said.

Gotta love ghetto proms

Somewhere Kermit is softly weeping.

Note to Prom Committee, tarp is NOT 'just like carpet'. That's a slip and slide.

Sportswear, formalwear, same diff, right?

It's sad day when a powder blue tux is the tasteful choice.

Awwww, the principal wouldn't let Xena bring Gabriella as her date?

This is how we like to see underage girls dress.

Does the back rip off for the afterparty?

Sweeties, even the Blazers cheer squad, who are paid to promote the team, wouldn't take it this far.

All I can say is that this Wallace guy had better be paying for their college tuition.

I can't stress enough the importance of picking your friends carefully.

The real scary thing about the dress on the left is that not only does her mother probably know that she out in public like this, she probably made it for her. I mean, no pun intended, you don't exactly buy that off the rack.

At least I found an apartment.

I haven't gotten the official approval yet, but since I'm not sweating the credit check, I'm pretty sure this is where I'll be living. It's a one bedroom downstairs unit, with a roomy living room and decent kitchen. It's a spanish style building with all doors opening into the little middle courtyard. The courtyard has a pool, a fountain, a BBQ area and (most importantly) lots of trees and plants. It has a friendly, tucked in sort of feel to it, like a small tiled square in a spanish town that you stumbled upon by accident. It smells vaguely of stale cigarette smoke, but for $675 you can't have everything. I liked the manager. He had a beagle named 'Freud'. That's my kind of neighbor. And my address will be pretty, South Magnolia Ave. Is it silly that I care about that? I'm so loathe to give up Van Horn Way. It makes me think of the character Gretchen Van Horn from the movie 'Sabrina', a young socialite from Long Island. And Magnolia Ave. makes me think of a southern lady with thick curly hair, who throws balls and writes letters a lot, on heavy, scented paper. I think I'll create a little nook by the window specifically for writing letters. But my hair will never be curly. My hair looks upon curling irons and laughs. The only kink that my hair will take is that weird line from the hairtie when I put it in a ponytail.

I hate being right.

So about three some old years ago, I came back from a visit to my parents house in San Fransisco convinced that there was something awry in their marrige. No one believed me. Their divorce was final days ago. I've suspected for a while that my dad is developing a drinking problem, the evidence for that continues to grow. And when my mother decided to join a group of people from her church (and I use the word 'church' only because this group of nut-jobs lack the organizational skills and financial know-how to be a 'cult') on a spontaneous road trip to Omaha "because God told them they should go", I specifically said to her, "I know your divorce is going to be final while you're gone. I know you are scared to death of being alone. Don't marry one of these guys. I don't care if he says it is 'God's Will'." Admittedly I'm suspicious of anyone who tells me that God has given them a message for me. It's like, hello, God has my number too. But off she went to Omaha. And back she comes with a fiancee. Who says that God said that he should marry my mother. I asked my mother if she didn't think it was a wee bit strange that God chose to deliver this message through a very partial party. My mother said that she 'felt a peace about it'. I resisted the urge to ask if she felt a peace about the marrige or a peace about who was going to pay her credit card bills. I decided to get prosiac and asked what 'Bob' does for a living. She quickly responded (and I feel this is so bad that it needs a drumroll or a dramatic pause or something) that 'Bob' is a Prophet. When she said that I didn't know whether to laugh or throw up. Instead I simply asked if that came with a good dental plan. It seems that 'Prophet Bob' has five children, the youngest of which is 18, and that 'Prophet Bob' used to be in the insurance business but since his mother died and left him an inheritance. He lives off his investments and gets up every morning and "does what God tells him too". Mums wants me to meet him ASAP, but I'm not so sure that 'Prophet Bob' is so axious to meet me. 'Prophet Bob' feels that this whole train wreck isn't moving toward disaster quite fast enough, and would like my mother to marry him before the end of the year.
Some questions for 'Prophet Bob'.
1. Why the rush, 'Prophet Bob'? She was divorced for whole days before you told her that God thought you should get married (such a romantic proposal) and you want to get married in a matter of weeks. Why the rush? Doesn't is smell just a smidge like taking advantage of an insecure woman's needieness? Just a skoosh?
2. What happen to the mother(s) of your children? Why didn't she stay married to you? Did she leave because you snore too loudly? Is she buried in a hastily dug hole in the backyard?
3. Did you earn any money on your own before your mama died and left you that chunk o' change? Exactly how much money are we talking here? How long have you had it and how much is left? (If he's going to feed her the "I'll take care of you" line, he sure as hell better be able to back it up.)
4. Where are you going to live? And for the record, "We're going to travel from house church to house church, depending on God" is not an acceptable answer.
5. What are your adult children going to say about you when I call them?

I hate that I'm doing this, having to play the parent to my mother, AGAIN. I spent seventeen years of childhood doing that, wiping tears, prying her out of her bedroom, convincing her that the hallway outside her bedroom, the front lawn, the grocery store, that these were all nice happy places too and that the escalator would not eat her and that the parking garage would not trap her in. Inviting her friends over for lunch to remind her that there's a world out there and it can be nice. After her divorce I told her to find a nice little house and some sweet friends (I even offered to loan her some of sweet friends) and to get a job someplace like a store she can fuss and potter over and to join a nice little church with a lot of older people who would let her help out with the babies during the service and cook her casseroles and just be nice to her. She took that as 'join a group of people who's defining characteristics are annoying people with their we-are-the-choosen-of-God attitude and their complete inability to make wise choices in their lives. Legally bind your financial, emotional and spiritual well-being to one of these people.' I'm so tired of being the big sister to her. I'm tired. It's not like I'm even all that good at playing the parent to her, because I never had one to turn to. She's never been a 'mom' to me. I always say, "I don't have parents. I have a pair of immature people who insist on calling me." I know she's my mother, but can't I just be done? I've done more than I should, isn't it enough? I wanted better for her than this 'Marrige disaster numero dos' but how much is God going to require I do about it? On one hand I hear, "She's your mother, you can't just throw her to the wolves. God never gives up on people and neither should you." And on the other hand I hear, "She's a big girl, she's managed to keep afloat for 46 years (abeight by standing on anyone's, including her young child's, heads) and she can take care of herself."
Ok. Here's the plan. I think. Thoughts are welcome on this.
I'm going to go to dinner with them and ask him the above questions. In front of my mother. He's going to see that he'd better take care of her or answer to me. And after my mother hears whatever his answers are, she's going to have a better idea what she's getting into. If she still wants to marry him, that's her business, and her choice, and I will rest easy, knowing that I did what I should.
Ok. I have a plan.
Sanity should return now.

Watch this.

Because nothing in the world says "I love you" like singing carrots.
http://www.pconline.com.cn/pcedu/carton/mtv/0401/299534.html

Somewhere, a mouse is snickering........

From the yahoo newsroom

Man Trying to Kill Mouse Shoots Girlfriend
CONFLUENCE, Pa. - A man missed a mouse he was trying to shoot with a small-caliber handgun and wounded his girlfriend instead, state police said.

Donald Rugg, 43, of Confluence, was trying to kill the rodent with a .22-caliber handgun when his girlfriend, Cathy Jo Harris, 38, apparently went into the line of fire and was hit in the arm early Tuesday morning, state police said.
She was taken to Somerset Hospital where she was listed in fair condition Tuesday, said hospital spokesman Greg Chiappelli.
Neither Rugg nor Harris could immediately be reached for comment.
State police said they won't charge Rugg, but advised against people shooting firearms inside.

I'm rooting for the rabbits

From the yahoo newsroom

Rabbits Run Owner Out of La. House
NEW ORLEANS - He wanted a bit of company, so he bought a pair of bunnies. He ended up with more company than he could handle. Given the run of the house, the little furballs did what rabbits are known for.

In less than a year, the man, whose name the Louisiana SPCA withheld on grounds that he was embarrassed enough already, had 73 rabbits.
They chewed the furniture. They burrowed into chairs, couches and mattresses. They processed food faster than their owner could clean up after them.
Finally, said SPCA Executive Director Laura Maloney, he passed out. Then he moved out and called his doctor for help.
The doctor called the SPCA, which chased rabbits through the house for much of the day Monday. Now — though a few have been adopted — it still has lots and lots, and is asking other area shelters for help.
"The rabbits were clean and healthy, even though the house wasn't," said Kathryn Destreza, director of animal services.
Maloney said the man was not cited and does not have the mental disorder called animal hoarding, Maloney said.
Hoarders collect strays and shelter animals in a misguided attempt to love and care for them, and rarely ask for help, she said. "He was a very nice man who recognized he was in a situation where he needed help."

Happy Birthday, JR!!!!!!

In honor of your 22nd birthday today, I will post 22 reasons why I love you.

For driving with one hand and holding mine with the other hand when we drive somewhere.
The way your hair sticks up in the back when you wake up.
For never once using the phrase, “It was just a fish” or “It was just a crab” when Ra and Jack died.
For never, ever, even once, turning me down when I asked for a back rub or a foot rub.
For touching my face while you kiss me.
For letting me listen to whatever radio station I want to in your car.
For not just listening when I said that I thought diamonds were boring and pearls were better, but going out and buying me a beautiful necklace with a pearl.
The way you play with your puppy, Keno. That dog loves you as much as I do.
For turning a blind eye when I steal your fries.
For tucking me in at night and letting yourself out.
For putting your credit card on the counter at the emergency vets office when Max was hit by a car and saying, “Pay me back when you can.” Thanks to you, I still have my fuzzball.
For loving long, lingering hugs as much as I do.
For the countless times you carried my bags while we shopped.
For telling me anytime I face a crisis, or just a bad day, that we would deal with it together. There is no one I would rather have in my corner.
For owning a bunny. That is the sexiest thing I can imagine.
For calling me in the middle of the day for no reason at all. I love that.
For loving me even though the evidence that I might be out of my mind piles higher every day. J
For knowing that sometimes the best thing to do is say nothing and hug me tight.
For looking that incredibly edible with your shirt off.
For doing half the work whenever we housesit, but refusing any of the money when Stacey pays me.
For making me tea when I’m cranky and menstrual.
For making me realize that the rest of my life might just possibly be an endless adventure with my very best friend in the world.

I love you madly!

Three ways to weird people out.

1. Ask your boss for a week off to join the 'Bigfoot Field Research Organization' on an 'expedition' to hunt for 'Bigfoot'. (yes, I know I said I'm willing to be convinced that such a creature exsists, but even proof of that doesn't make these - http://www.bfro.net/NEWS/roundup/roundups_2004_reviews.asp
- people sane)
2. Drive through a car show with the windows down, and the sound system turned up as loud as possible. Put in a Barry Manilow CD. Rock out to Copacabana.
3. Tell people that call your company that the owner can't take their call right now because he has to leave the office now if he's going to catch his dealer before the dealer has to make a court date to bail out one of his hookers. When they laugh uncomfortably, hoping you're joking, ask them if they'd like the boss to pick them up anything while they're at the dealers street corner.

Comforting sight

It's a good feeling you get when you see a "Beware of the Dog!" sign ..................... on an open gate.

Maybe if the cat played with matches............

An apartment manager (shifty breed of human) just informed me that to rent her $750 one bedroom apartment, she would need a $750 deposit. Not uncomman, or particularly steep. But then she told me that to bring my cat, I would need an additional $1000 pet deposit! How would a cat cause one thousand dollars worth of damage if he tried? No really, I'm asking. If he stole my car keys and drove through a wall maybe.
And I find it particulary ironic that she only wanted $750 for me.

Happiness is................

.................A good shredder that never jams.

Things actually said to me this weekend

So, I'm sad. My lovely home is to be my home no longer. My roomies and I have been renting a house that we all love very much. It's in a nice, peaceful neighborhood, has bright blue pool surrounded by terra cotta tiles and two dressing rooms labeled 'Guys' and 'Dolls', lovely rustling trees that seem to snuggle up the house to be friendly, and of course, the 'Swiss-Family-eat-your-heart-out' tree house. Our house has floor to ceiling windows opening to an amazing view, grape vine draped porch, and most of all, the friendly feeling that the house likes you back. I'm quite sure our house will miss us, too. But the owner wants to come back and live in it. I can't blame him. And it's his house, he can do that. But if you want to depress yourself very quickly, the best way to do it is to go shopping for an apartment in El Cajon. To explain to non-locals, El Cajon is a spanish word for the 'the drawer' or 'the box', and its a fairly actuate description of the square valley, surrounded by ridges on all sides. The middle is dotted with shops and the rest is checkerboarded with modest family homes (think two bedroom, one story, ranch style with one tree squished onto a tiny plot) and apartments. The houses on the surrounding hills (where I live now) are the nice houses, with long shady driveways and big lots and views. And everything you've heard about the cost of housing in southern California is absolutely true. In Alburquerque, New Mexico, a one bedroom apartment set you back $350. In Minnesota, we rented a two bedroom, one and a half bath townhouse with two car garage for $750. Here, a one bedroom, one bath house was considered a steal for $375,000 and sold in two days on the market. So, unless I want to round up some roomies (quickly) and hope to find another sucker willing to rent a house for far less than it's worth again, I'm looking at apartments. I'm trying to spend no more than $800 a month on a one bedroom apartment, and that selection is limited. JR and I viewed a bunch this weekend.
Some things that were actually said to me by various apartment managers.

(glance at my thighs) "We have an excellent fitness room."

(chipper voice)"We here at Bella Vista are working on becoming a Crime Free property. And we're almost there!"

"So lets pop in to the fitness room. Nice, huh?" (same apartment manager)

"We here at Casa Del Sol Apartments are very pet friendly. As long as you cruelly subject your cat to an unnecessarily surgery to remove his only natural defense system and leave him fearful and emotionally scarred for life, and give us a deposit of $200. (ok, she just said 'declawed', but that's what I heard.)

"So the nice thing about our fitness room is that it's connected to our laundry room, so you can pop a load in and then work out. Isn't that a great idea?"(same SOB apartment manager)

"We aren't finished fumigating the apartment so I'm not going in. I'll just talk loudly from the doorway. Feel free to go in yourselves!"

"You can see from how the fire damage is fairly minimal on that unit on the other side that the fire department responds very quickly to us!"

(standing on bare, unfinished concrete floors) "..... and carpet is one the options we offer for an additional price."

(looking at me suspiciously) "You're not allowed to bring any known felons onto the property unless they've been approved by me."

"So, what did you think of the fitness room?"(SOB's receptionist)

White Houses

I'm so obsessed with this new video, White Houses by Vanessa Carlton
http://launch.yahoo.com/musicvideos/genrehub.asp?genreID=100

Such optimism. 

The Fall 2004 Edition of Getting to Know Your Friends.

Welcome to the Fall 2004 edition of getting to know your friends. Name: Sarah Barrick

1. What time do you get up? 5:45 to 6-ish AM

2. If you could eat lunch with one person, who would it be? Robert Fulghum. Or Gandhi.

3. Gold or Silver? I'm all into copper right now.

4. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? I can't remember seeing anything since 'Suspect Zero'.

5. What is your favorite TV show(s)? I'm boycotting TV since 'Friends' ended. Just kidding. I rarely have time to watch TV, but when I do, I'll turn on Turner Classic Movies or E! or BBC America. I keep meaning to watch that show 'Lost' on ABC, but I haven't gotten around to finding out what time it's on.

6. What do you have for breakfast? If I'm lucky enough to have the time, I go to Country Comfort in El Cajon on Chase and Avocado. I get the sirloin strips with sauteed mushrooms, scrambled eggs, country fried potatoes, biscuits and gravy. Top it off with some grapefruit juice and some coffee. I eat it all. It's going to be the death of me someday.

7. Who would you hate to be stuck in a room with? Gotta go with John on this one, anyone with too much ego, and I also couldn't deal with someone with too many opinions.

8. What/Who inspires you? People.

9. What is your middle name? Anne

10. Beach, city, or country? That's the nice part about San Diego, is that you don't really have to chose. You've got it all within a half-hour drive. But if I had to pick just one, I'd have to go with country.

11. Favorite ice cream(s)? Rainbow Sherbet, peach sorbet

12. Butter, plain, or salted popcorn? Easy on the salt, but swimming in butter. Doing lazy little backstrokes in butter. I know, between that and breakfast, I'm going to die of a heart attack.

13. Favorite color? Green

14. What kind of car do you drive? '05 Ford Focus Sedan (none of that hatchback nonsense), white, stick shift, four door. I've named her Gwen.

15. Favorite Sandwich? Tuna on sourdough with onions, pickles and black olives. It's a wonder my boyfriend will kiss me.

16. Favorite Flower? White roses and lilies are nice, but if I had to chose just one, I'd go with Sweet Peas. They've been my favorite since I was a little girl and I would wear them in my hair.

18. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?
We would start out in late spring. We would buy an Airstream trailer and spend the summer touring america in search of the dinner with the best chicken strips and mashed potatoes. We would visit as many random, untouristy spots as we could find. Then we would fly to London, spend a week or two in the British Isles, buying wool sweaters and watching a sunrise at Stonehenge. Then we would buy a rail pass around Europe. See if the beer in Belgium really is the best, if the fall leaves in Paris really are better than the spring flowers, if Prague's bridges are as lovely as I've heard. I would spend Christmas in Vienna, at the Vienna Opera House. And New Years in Rome, laughing in a restaurant with new friends that don't speak english. I would wear a warm scarf and feed the pigeons in front of a church in Portofino. Then we would buy a yacht and sail the Mediterranean, stopping to buy out an entire turkish bazaar, to be thrown off the sphinx for trying to climb it, spend an afternoon looking for a undiscovered tomb and to get a tattoo of a cat in Eygpt, to study the architecture in Morocco, and to take a picture of myself, tanned, on the bow of our yacht with the Rock of Gibraltar in the background. We would sail around Africa to Cape Verde where we would land and I would buy a parrot who would spend the rest of the trip on my shoulder. We would send the crew on to meet us around the Cape at Mozambique. We would backpack out to Mali with good cameras and some lion repellent (they make that, right? :) ) and then head down through central Africa to South Africa. Along the way I would get something pierced or stretched while JR looks on with that expression that says 'I love you, but you're insane'. Then up the coast to Mozambique, back on the boat and sail over to India, where we would trade the boat for a good Range Rover. I would buy sari's in every color of the rainbow and head up through India to Nepal, China, and Mongolia, staying with local families whenever possible and watching a Mongolia horse race. Then to Russia, just to say that I've seen a Russian winter and to buy one of those wooden dolls that have smaller dolls inside. (Does anyone know what those are called? I've asked everyone I know and they all know what I mean but no one seems to know that they are called.) Then back down to Japan to buy dried squid and Hello Kitty hair clips. Resist the urge to put the Hello Kitty hair clips in JR's hair while he sleeps. Then down the coast to Vietnam and Brunei. Spend a few weeks on a beach hut in Thailand. Ride an elephant. If at all possible, buy a little elephant and have it shipped home. (While JR looks on with that 'I love you, but you're cleaning it's cage' look and I give him the 'I gave in on the camel and the mongolian horse, now let me have my elephant' look). Then on to Australia. Spend a few nights in the outback with an aboriginal guide. Witness a thunderstorm if possible. Buy JR one of those rugged looking hats and tell him how sexy he looks in it while he's sits there, still shaking his head and muttering to himself, 'I can't believe she bought an elephant'. Watch him cheer up when I buy him a boomerang and point out all the fun he can have driving his 'fetch-crazy' dog insane with it. Then hope a plane to Chile. Buy a jeep. Head down to the cape, eating argentinian beef and riding horses. Then head up to Brazil. Stick one toe in the Amazon so that when I get home I can regale my friends with stories of 'swimming in piranha infested water'. Circle around through Venezuela and Colombia to Ecuador, then take a brief trip out to the Galapagos Islands. Don't take a turtle, out of love for JR. Head up through Central America in the jeep. Buy silver jewelry. Take a side trip to Cuba. Then go to Mexico City. Stay for a while and take salsa dancing lessons. Not from an instructor, from old couples. Head north toward home, stopping in Rosarito for one last pacifico beer and watch the sunset. Head home and see if anyone of our friends remember us. Drop off 247 rolls of film at Walgreen's. After a few years, donate the elephant to a petting zoo for seniors or sick kids.

19. What color is your bathroom? All white except for the blue and green hand painted fish tiles around the counter and bathtub.

20.Favorite brand of clothing? Anthropologie

21. Where would you retire to? La Bufadora, Mexico. I'd buy a little plot of land overlooking the ocean, build a very open, one room cottage and a few good horses.

22. Favorite day of the week? Sunday or Tuesday

23. What did you do for your last Birthday? Made the mistake of asking the waitress for the largest margarita they had. Which turned out to be roughly the size of the wading pool I had as a kid. But other than that, I was surrounded my all my favorite people, and was serenaded by a pair of mariachi singers. It was a good night.

24. Where were you born? El Cajon Valley Hospital.

25. Favorite sport to play? Bocce Ball.

26. Who do you least expect to send this back to you? Who knows.

27. Person you expect to send it back first? Not sure

28. What fabric detergent do you use? It think it's Gain. 'Bright Sky' scent or something.

29. Coke or Pepsi? Coke

30. Are you a morning person or a night owl? Slightly more night-owlish, but it's not very pronounced.

31. Do you have any pets? One cat, Maximus Lloyd Vincente, one beta fish, Caspian, two goldfish, Bianca and Luigi and two hermit crabs, Fritz and Sheldon.

32. Who do you have a crush on? My boyfriend. He's sooooo cute.

Where I would rather be.

I will soooooo buy these shoes.