April 15th, 2004

Chalkboard

Palm Desert, Easter, Horseback Riding, Suchin, Sharon Osbourne Makeovers, Sex & Risotto

Palm Desert, Easter, Horseback Riding, Suchin and Her Acanthic Fold, Sharon Osbourne and Makeovers, and Sex and Risotto




Pictures I took of roses in my garden just before we left.

I'm still here in the desert, my back is still hurting, Mom is still being difficult, Rosa is still trying to persuade me to get Mom to give her a raise, while Mom is still being panicked about money and as we say in Spanish, codo. You say, "Codo," and kind of cup your hand around your elbow, it means cheap. Bleh.

Easter was a success, Easter Bunny wise. I made two gorgeous, loaded with toys, candies and chocolate baskets for Rosa's two boys. I made a line of thirty plus Danielle Steele books and little bags of jelly beans for Mom that led to her favorite place in the house, the dining room table, where I'd set up a little Easter tableau of candies, vintage linens, and a super expensive French porcelain egg that opens up and has a little perfume bottle geisha girl with a parasol in it. Beau got candies, chocolates, fart toys, a dog humping mechanical doggy, a vintage letter opener made from old bullet shells, a Buddha incense holder, some vintage paper dragon toys, a Steiff bunny and these shoes he was dying for. Even Rosa got a pretty basket of flowers and candies and a sweet smelling candle, which of course she neglected to thank me for, or show my Mother, I'd write that I'm sighing here but I'm forever sighing at the end of my sentences.

Oh that reminds me, Howie, you sweetheart, thank you so so much for the sweet bunny and the Easter cookies! You can't imagine how happy receiving them made me. Beau liked it too but not as much as I did. I loooove getting presents and surprises and this was a real treat and a highlight of the holiday for me. You are the dearest man. I love you so so much.

We've brought our little cat Millie with us to the desert so I won't cave in to my need for animal company cravings and go rescue a pet from one of the local shelters. Yesterday she started sneezing and one of her eyes swelled up so I spent three hours driving around trying to get medications for her.

I brought jeans and tennis shoes along just in case I felt well enough to go riding. I thought I'd try to persuade Beau to go with me to the Smoketree stables here where I rode for years and years but with our backs hurting the way they do I'm a little worried. I haven't been on a horse in at least five years and I miss riding desperately. I miss horses. I love hugging their necks and rubbing my fingers over that soft velvety fur part around their noses. Ah horses, horse love, sigh.

I should be home working for Kitty today, and tomorrow I'm supposed to help Sunday, (a magazine editor friend of mine), style for a shoot at a publicist's house in the Hollywood Hills, but it doesn't look like I'm going to make it. My back is killing me and I ate another GD brownie and I feel so sick, I think I'll take the rest of them and throw them in the trash. Someone remind me to call everyone and tell them I'll be back next week so I don't blow every little connection I've worked so hard to make. Also will someone remind me that it's been way too long since I've had sex, maybe you could put a call in to Scott for me ; )

I went to the trouble of making parmesan risotto last night and no one would even try it. Cruel, non-risotto-eating family of mine. It wasn't bad, it was good, really it was.

We caught a sweet little buggy creature crawling around on one of the screens and brought it in and made a little plastic house for it. I'll let it go as soon as our digital camera is charged up so we can take a macro picture of him before we release him. I think he's just a desert grasshopper of some kind. I love bugs.

I need to get Beau going on his school project; a collage of his outside reading assignment. I brought some poster board along and magazines, scissors, glue sticks, and bought some sets of sticky letters and fun scrap book adornments that might go along with his project.



I still want to marry the Osbournes. I'm sure if they know about me at all they must think I'm some crazed Osbournish fan/stalker. I can't help it if I adore them and want to squish, cuddle, and hug every darned one of them, including the pets. Never mind that the last time I saw I saw Jack I said, "I love you monkey boy." How dumb was that? How could he know monkey boy is an endearment and that I call Beau that -- poor kid, he just looked sort of dumbstruck and his friends said, "Woah!"

I can't believe poor Sharon felt she had to call Mandy Moore's stupid publicist and apologize for asking her on the show, if she'd had sex with her boyfriend. That's the kind of thing I love about her, love about the show, damnit. I hate that it didn't work out and she felt she had to resign. Why can't the producers just hang in there with this show long enough for it to build it's audience base. It's so much fun and there's nothing like it.

All right that's it, I'm going to call the producer and get a final yes or a no on the plastic surgery thing. I've got to move on this before my breasts start dragging on the floor, heh. I just heard Sharon say on a repeat of The Osbournes how much she hates doing makeovers, this must be why they're dragging their feet so badly on doing it. I remember when we were in the audience of one of the very first shows she held up a sign that said, "No Makeovers," which is why I was so surprised when they started putting out requests for people who needed to be made over. Ya know, I haven't checked my messages in, oh, ages, for all I know they might have called and I missed it, although I doubt it. Still, I should check those messages...

Which reminds me I still need to call Mary's friend, the woman who organizes the Art Deco Society's annual fashion show. Why can't I just have bazillions of dollars and hire someone to do all of these things for me? Could it be because I haven't accrued enough karmic er-brownie points for this go round in life? Hey, at least I'm not living in Guatemala and shitting in trees like Rosa used to when she was a little girl because they didn't have a bathroom and the wild pigs would come and knock you over if you tried to poop in the bushes.

I've been watching MTV while I've been fooling around on the computer here, and there was a show on called My Life Translated with that gorgeous, I'll say that again and capitalize it,
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<h3>Palm Desert, Easter, Horseback Riding, Suchin and Her Acanthic Fold, Sharon Osbourne and Makeovers, and Sex and Risotto</h3>

<img src="http://www.jacquicam.com/4-14-04whitefluffy.jpg">
<small>Pictures I took of roses in my garden just before we left.</small>

I'm still here in the desert, my back is still hurting, Mom is still being difficult, Rosa is still trying to persuade me to get Mom to give her a raise, while Mom is still being panicked about money and as we say in Spanish, codo. You say, "Codo," and kind of cup your hand around your elbow, it means cheap. Bleh.

Easter was a success, Easter Bunny wise. I made two gorgeous, loaded with toys, candies and chocolate baskets for Rosa's two boys. I made a line of thirty plus Danielle Steele books and little bags of jelly beans for Mom that led to her favorite place in the house, the dining room table, where I'd set up a little Easter tableau of candies, vintage linens, and a super expensive French porcelain egg that opens up and has a little perfume bottle geisha girl with a parasol in it. Beau got candies, chocolates, fart toys, a dog humping mechanical doggy, a vintage letter opener made from old bullet shells, a Buddha incense holder, some vintage paper dragon toys, a Steiff bunny and these shoes he was dying for. Even Rosa got a pretty basket of flowers and candies and a sweet smelling candle, which of course she neglected to thank me for, or show my Mother, I'd write that I'm sighing here but I'm forever sighing at the end of my sentences.

Oh that reminds me, Howie, you sweetheart, thank you so so much for the sweet bunny and the Easter cookies! You can't imagine how happy receiving them made me. Beau liked it too but not as much as I did. I loooove getting presents and surprises and this was a real treat and a highlight of the holiday for me. You are the dearest man. I love you so so much.

We've brought our little cat Millie with us to the desert so I won't cave in to my need for animal company cravings and go rescue a pet from one of the local shelters. Yesterday she started sneezing and one of her eyes swelled up so I spent three hours driving around trying to get medications for her.

I brought jeans and tennis shoes along just in case I felt well enough to go riding. I thought I'd try to persuade Beau to go with me to the Smoketree stables here where I rode for years and years but with our backs hurting the way they do I'm a little worried. I haven't been on a horse in at least five years and I miss riding desperately. I miss horses. I love hugging their necks and rubbing my fingers over that soft velvety fur part around their noses. Ah horses, horse love, sigh.

I should be home working for Kitty today, and tomorrow I'm supposed to help Sunday, (a magazine editor friend of mine), style for a shoot at a publicist's house in the Hollywood Hills, but it doesn't look like I'm going to make it. My back is killing me and I ate another GD brownie and I feel so sick, I think I'll take the rest of them and throw them in the trash. Someone remind me to call everyone and tell them I'll be back next week so I don't blow every little connection I've worked so hard to make. Also will someone remind me that it's been way too long since I've had sex, maybe you could put a call in to Scott for me ; )

I went to the trouble of making parmesan risotto last night and no one would even try it. Cruel, non-risotto-eating family of mine. It wasn't bad, it was good, really it was.

We caught a sweet little buggy creature crawling around on one of the screens and brought it in and made a little plastic house for it. I'll let it go as soon as our digital camera is charged up so we can take a macro picture of him before we release him. I think he's just a desert grasshopper of some kind. I love bugs.

I need to get Beau going on his school project; a collage of his outside reading assignment. I brought some poster board along and magazines, scissors, glue sticks, and bought some sets of sticky letters and fun scrap book adornments that might go along with his project.

<img src="http://www.jacquicam.com/4-14-04pinkcecilwbuds.jpg">

I still want to marry the Osbournes. I'm sure if they know about me at all they must think I'm some crazed Osbournish fan/stalker. I can't help it if I adore them and want to squish, cuddle, and hug every darned one of them, including the pets. Never mind that the last time I saw I saw Jack I said, "I love you monkey boy." How dumb was that? How could he know monkey boy is an endearment and that I call Beau that -- poor kid, he just looked sort of dumbstruck and his friends said, "Woah!"

I can't believe poor Sharon felt she had to call Mandy Moore's stupid publicist and apologize for asking her on the show, if she'd had sex with her boyfriend. That's the kind of thing I love about her, love about the show, damnit. I hate that it didn't work out and she felt she had to resign. Why can't the producers just hang in there with this show long enough for it to build it's audience base. It's so much fun and there's nothing like it.

All right that's it, I'm going to call the producer and get a final yes or a no on the plastic surgery thing. I've got to move on this before my breasts start dragging on the floor, heh. I just heard Sharon say on a repeat of The Osbournes how much she hates doing makeovers, this must be why they're dragging their feet so badly on doing it. I remember when we were in the audience of one of the very first shows she held up a sign that said, "No Makeovers," which is why I was so surprised when they started putting out requests for people who needed to be made over. Ya know, I haven't checked my messages in, oh, ages, for all I know they might have called and I missed it, although I doubt it. Still, I should check those messages...

Which reminds me I still need to call Mary's friend, the woman who organizes the Art Deco Society's annual fashion show. Why can't I just have bazillions of dollars and hire someone to do all of these things for me? Could it be because I haven't accrued enough karmic er-brownie points for this go round in life? Hey, at least I'm not living in Guatemala and shitting in trees like Rosa used to when she was a little girl because they didn't have a bathroom and the wild pigs would come and knock you over if you tried to poop in the bushes.

I've been watching MTV while I've been fooling around on the computer here, and there was a show on called <a href="http://www.mtv.com/bands/m/mylifetranslated/">My Life Translated</a> with that gorgeous, I'll say that again and capitalize it, <a href="<a href="http://www.mtv.com/news/correspondents/pak/">that GORGEOUS, MTV news correspondent, Suchin.</a> This episode featured her lifelong cultural identity struggle over whether she should get an eyelid surgery to create an artificial eyelid fold. Oh God no!!! Her eyes are so beautiful just the way they are. In fact I think Asian women are probably just about the most beautiful women on the planet.

She found a woman who had been wanting to have this surgery done for years and had the show's cameras follow her through the procedure. It just killed me watching this lovely Korean woman named Jane having her eyes mutilated in order to look more American. I mean I understand her desire to change or improve her appearance. I understand and support this because I'm going through similar issues myself with my stomach, thighs, breasts, and these new folds that are developing around my mouth as the weight falls away from my face. But to see this naturally beautiful woman, this naturally gorgeous woman end up with these odd, fatty, fake eyelid folds, that to me completely marred her natural beauty, and know that what was making her feel better about herself was that she felt more western, oh God what a pity. And to think this has been a common practice among Asian people for years and years and I'd never even heard about or known this. Suchin writes about this in her journal, saying that she's always been bothered by her "chinky" eyes. Wow, how sad -- the things we struggle with.

Last night there was a show on about a man who was having plastic surgery so he could look more like J-Lo and I swear I thought he was much more beautiful as a woman before the surgery. All of this cultural focus and pressure to be beautiful like someone else, to always have to be like someone else, is breaking my heart. I'm forty-two and I don't like to write about it here too much because it's becoming a big factor for me, something that is bothering me more and more. Maybe I should just take a tip from both of these people, the man who looked lovelier as a woman before all of his radical head stapling surgery, and Jane who was so lovely before her eyelid surgery, and just try to embrace myself the way I am, drooping wrinkly breasts and all.

<img src="http://www.jacquicam.com/4-14-04pinkorangevariegated.jpg">
Chalkboard

My Beloved Sparkle Kitty Died Suddenly Today



This is one of my best friends in all the world, Sparkle. He died sometime today. Esther, found him with his tail and a leg sticking out from under my bed. We don't know what happened. I am so tortured and grief stricken. I've been crying off and on for hours. Finally I grabbed every pain and anxiety medicine I could think of and downed them to blot out the pain. It hasn't worked, I just feel thick and stoned, sick and heart broken.

Who will ever understand how special this little slightly crossed eyed man was?

No more fetch. No more saving the little plastic ring that comes around the neck of the Snapple bottles. No more snaggle teeth. No more pawing my face when he knows I'm sad or just wants me to pet him. No more sharing my cheese. No more Sparkle. There will never ever be another cat like him. I want to die.


This is Sparkle and his only littermate, his brother Twinkle, and Sparkle's babies. They were baby-sitting the kittens while the mommies were off taking a break.

What happened? Why? Cats don't just drop dead like this without any warning. What does this say about our new housekeeper Ana and Esther? We've been gone for close to a week. Did Esther just breeze in and out without really checking in on everyone because she likes to do this when I'm away? Did she miss something that I would have seen that would have caused me to rush him to the vet? Is Anna too simple minded, inexperienced and overwhelmed to notice when someone isn't doing well. This never ever would have happened if Irma had been there. All I feel is loss, loss, and more loss, and yet in the midst of this there is always the grace of faith. Faith that I am grateful to the Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Mary for laying the seeds inside my heart that carry me through every one of these terrible losses. Faith that everything happens for a reason no matter how fucked up and painful it is.


Here is a picture of sweet little Tea Tea. I'm still so sad about her dying, but we knew she was living on borrowed time. We just kept hoping there was some way we'd be able to keep this sickly little midget cat going until she could get strong enough to thrive on her own. Our vets made us feel better by saying they'd never seen anyone work as hard or sacrifice as much as we had for her. Hearing that they felt we'd done everything we could and more for her helped ease the pain of losing her, but with Sparkle just dying alone and without my being there, I'm just torn up and wracked with guilt.

Oh God my beloved Sparkle. Not even the death of our dear little Tea Tea who we fought night and day for, for almost a year, compares to the hurting of this. And all my Mother could dredge up by way of empathy was, "It's just one cat, you have plenty more. Now stop crying, get dressed and get ready for dinner." When she found me later, lying on my bed and sobbing she got angry and tried to shame me out of it by saying, "I'd understand if you were someone who had just one cat or just one dog, but to be crying over one cat when you have fifty is just nuts." Good old Mom. It's not enough that I have to ache for the familiar comfort of my sleek little black friend, I get to yearn for the comfort of a Mother's love as well. Thank God Scott was able to talk to me for a little while and Beau tried to be kind. He said, "Mom, imagine that I could say the most comforting thing in all the world to you right now and then pretend I did that okay?" I told him I just wanted him to hug me and tell me he was sorry and that he understood how much I hurt, so he did.


There will never ever be another Sparkle. He was unique and wonderful from the moment he was born, special to me from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I will never get over the loss of his companionship and there had better be a heaven out there somewhere where we will someday get to reunite with our loved ones when we die or I will feel so betrayed and ripped off by life.