Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

Tomes Cinco Pastillas de Paciencia

Hello My Loves,

I haven't written in so long because I've been busy and under the weather, and busy and under the weather. As usual I write entries, but I save them to complete later and then time passes and they remain locked forever in the tiny micro-recesses of my computer. I don't want to promise to fetch, edit, and put them up, because I don't want to let myself down.

I have to tell you about the fashion show and share pictures of both that and Halloween, but who knows when I'll get around to it. Soon I hope. I know I still have to finish posting journal entries and pictures of Burning Man. And so it goes...

Esther's sister Concha is here with us today. I need help and she needs work so what we usually do for any extra fill-in work like this -- when Esther works a few extra days during the week, or her husband Hugo comes to do the heavy lifting kinds of things that I'm unable to do -- is arrange to pay them before their rent is due the following month. That gives me a few weeks to scrounge up the cash, weee.

Concha is just as funny as Esther, who is just off the charts hilarious, and sometimes the best parts of my days are when they catch me off guard by saying something funny in Spanish, that never translates well into English, but that will have me rolling and heaving for long happy minutes. My giant teenage son, who can now play almost all of the Red Hot Chili Pepper songs on any one of his four guitars, has two enormous teenage friends over and for hours and hours today they were jamming together in his room -- which is right next to mine. When they weren't being a garage band in a small bedroom, they had the subwoofer that I made the enormous mistake of buying Beau for Easter, (What else am I gonna give a fifteen year old, colored eggs?), cranked up to the max and the walls of the house were just vibrating with the constant thud thud thudding of it all. Oh Lordy. Concha came in, saw me holding my head and blithely shouted over the din, "Tomes cinco pastillas de paciencia." Which basically translates to, "Take five patience pills."

When she came back up to my room later, I looked at her big dark eyes and her gorgeous long black hair -- at forty-something with a grandchild she is still wearing her hair down past her butt and I think this is so cool, so I said, "Quien es la mas sexy abuela en el mundo?" Who is the sexiest grandmother in the world?, and Concha said breathily, "Ay, Conception Ojeda," and walked off swinging her Rapunzel-like hair.

Now Esther is here saying we need to rob a bank. Whenever I write or say something like this I can't help but wonder if somewhere around the corner in some nondescript van with tinted windows, or deep in some bunker, there aren't a bunch of men wondering if I was really serious or not. Sometimes I like to say random things into my telephone to see if this will shake anyone up out there; terrorist, candy canes, assassination, goldfish crackers, hydroponic weed farming, boom, boom, boom.

Scott and I got into a fight, I told him to leave, then we didn't speak for a day, and now everything is fine. I love the guy, which can really suck at times when he's being dickish. He's making it up to me by taking us all out to the movies tonight. We wanted to see Harry Potter but so does most of the rest of the Western world so we're shit out of luck on that count. I guess it's going to be Johnny and June Carter Cash for us instead.

Our old friend Jo, (she's only fifteen, but she's an old friend now because we've been friends since she was eight, I think, and I adore her), has a friend at her school who is such a devoted Harry Potter fan that he (or she) actually ditched school because she couldn't wait to see it. And because h/she is so devoted to the whole phenomenon, all of the kids understood and helped her sneak off. Isn't that cute? Jo said, "I think it's an obsessional devotion to the character that I actually find kind of creepy." You know if Beau'd wanted to go see it yesterday I would have been the first one to say, "Wanna skip school?" Yep, I'm bad that way.

My friend Monique's little five year old daughter came into her parents' bedroom the other day. She was smacking one little bunched up fist into the palm of her other hand and said, "Daddy, we can either do this the easy way ... or the hard way." Her Dad Bruce told me this on the phone today, but when I asked him what she'd wanted he'd already forgotten because he thought it was so cute.

Angela is a doll, a really smart doll, so I'm sure she was just playing, and it would have been cute and funny to see, but I think if Beau'd done this when he was five, I might have been a wee bit afraid. Let's just hope all of our five year olds don't rise up en masse and start smacking their fists and demanding things. I'm fine with the usual whining, begging, pleading, and tantrums, but I don't know how I'd feel if they all started talking like mini-mobsters ; )

Thursday I went with Mom to my friend Kitty's open house and jewelry show. She's repping a line of gorgeous eighteen karat semiprecious East Indian inspired jewelry. Ooohh did I want some, but I can't afford it. There were some green earrings I really liked but they were fifteen hundred dollars and frankly I'd rather pay down a debt with the money.

Kitty came with Jani to the fashion show and was so kind and complimentary. She left the nicest message on my service that I think I've ever received from anyone, ever. She said that the show was one of the hilights of her life, if you can imagine that. I mean this woman's been on Oprah and had her own television show for eight years, how can our little fashion show compare with that? But she lost her Mother when she was seven, and sentimental mother-daughter tribute kinds of things are very meaningful to her. Whatever the case, she really, really, made me feel good about all of the effort and planning and expense that went into the show. But I'll get into all of that later.

Mom bought herself a pretty, three strand, pink opal bead necklace that looked really good on her, and some blue flower shaped earrings with a pearl in the center that looked great with her blue eyes. I was happy for her. I like it when she spends money on herself, but I was also sad for her housekeeper Rosa, who although past history has taught me I can never trust her again, is still a human being, and I had a hard time watching all of these women buying expensive jewelry for themselves right in front of someone who is struggling to support an entire family of people in a tiny two bedroom apartment and desperately needs a thousand dollars for an operation on her eyes.



Here is a picture of the book I worked as a stylist with Kitty and her friend on. I had so much fun helping her set up the kitchen, den, and garden shots. I bought things for her to add to her collections and brought over things to loan to her. You can see a lot of them in the pictures, which is fun. I learned a lot from her, she's amazing! I didn't even know it had come out, so I was excited to see it. Kitty said, "Oh, there's so much of you in here. You're all over it."

The weird thing about this though is that when we got to Kitty's house, which is darling in the extreme, she handed my Mom a thick brown padded envelope that turned out to contain the book. She said something like, "Oh Jeannette, here is that package I wanted you to give to Jani for me." I didn't think anything of it until later when Kitty pulled me aside and said, "I promised your Mom I wouldn't tell you this but I feel kind of funny about this. I would have given you a book myself but your Mother called and arranged this so I can't say anything. I just didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you."

I don't get it. Did Mom call Kitty and ask her if she could buy a copy of the book for me and then Kitty said she'd give her one and now Mom's going to give it to me for Christmas? I know she means well, but this is kind of weird. I mean, it's not really a Christmas present, it's something I worked on and for, and Kitty would have given me an inscribed copy the next time I saw her anyway, so I don't know how Mom got involved and it turned into some kind of Christmas surprise, argh. I want to get a copy now so I can see the pictures I worked on and I'd like to see what Kitty wrote in it to me. Oh well.

Kitty's knitting book is out now as well. This is the one she wanted Atra to work on with her, but Atra didn't want to so she missed out, seriously. I told her.

Oh Lord there go the drums again. Our persnickety neighbors are back again, and since Beau's room is on the side of our house that is right up against the side of their house that their bedroom is on I'm afraid they'll complain. They've only been back a few days and already I feel oppressed. Flora, our little Jack Russell Terrier, was outside barking at squirrels today and remembering how upset they get by the sound of her barking I rushed to bring her back in. Mercifully they spend almost half of every year away traveling so we get to live complaint, nag, and interference free for almost six whole months -- it's bliss, so of course I always feel like cheering when I see them start to pack up their RV. Then we always have to come back down to this constant state of stress and fear again when they return, because you just never know when the next round of complaints and troubles will begin.

You'd have to have been reading my journal for years and years to understand what they've put us all through, and yet I still try to be at least civil to them, until they go and do something truly threatening and evil to us again. I want to say for the record that if I grow up to become this kind of a neighbor -- the interfering Gladys Kravitz kind -- please someone put everyone else out of their misery and shoot me.

Yesterday I had lunch at Mom's house with her two friends Joyce and Esther who I'd met again for the first time in years and years at the fashion show. The last time I saw Joyce, I was six or seven years old, and I was sitting on the floor of my parent's house with my Light Brite set, watching Mom and Joyce drape fabric on a dress form. Joyce was Mom's brilliant head designer and pattern maker and Esther ran the whole business end of Mom's business. Wow, was she lucky to have found them. Amazing women, both of them. I'll tell you stories someday.

I got all of the dresses out and hung them up on racks for them to see. It was so touching watching them hold the dresses up and reminisce about their days working together. Of course I had out my handy notebook and wrote down pretty much everything they said. It was like watching my Mom playing with two old school friends -- they were so girlie and sweet and gossipy. What a treat. Sadly, I had to leave early in order to pick Beau up from school. When I left them they were sitting at the table in the sun room trying to work out a number puzzle in the LA Times.

Well, I think that's about it for now. If I keep going I'll get bogged down and I won't post this, and since my goal was to write something on my journal today, I think I've just about achieved this.

I have to go the cats are stealing my cheap tasteless pizza.

Big loving hugs from your pal,
Jacqui
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