April 26th, 2005


(no subject)

These are for my friend ana-wee who likes dandelions as much as I do : )

Hello My Journal Darlings,

I'm at Scotti's. I have five bucks riding on my getting to bed before four so I have to hurry, heh. Today was Scott's final photo shoot for his CD/album cover, etc., and it went so well -- so much better than I'd expected. He's been through so much, trying to find the right designer/photographer, and I'm so happy for him that he's found such a great guy. He's super talented, was personable and easy to work with, and he brought along his darling, true-hearted, and also very talented girlfriend. They were both as sweet as they could be, we were all on the same page, visually, and everything just clicked. I'm so happy. I'll give you links to their web sites and put up a couple of pictures later. Right now I've got this bet going with Scott and it's taken me so long just to edit the pictures I took today before we even got to Scott's shoot.

Some cute ducks who waddled up looking for snacks when we were taking Scott's pictures at the Balboa lake area. It's so pretty there.

Yesterday I got a call from Martha, Mom's nurse who works for her on Sundays, saying that she wanted me to come over to look at something. This is the something she wanted me to look at.

She couldn't find the tea-pot and called good ol' Rosa to ask her what had happened to it. Rosa said something like, "Oh, uh, I, uh, was trying to clean it -- you know that pot was so old and dirty -- and I just couldn't get the stains out, so I threw it in the trash." When Martha said, "Oh don't worry Rosa, I'll go look for it, maybe I can clean it," Rosa said, "Oh, no, no, no, don't do that! Just use another pot, that old tea-pot's no good no more." So Martha, knowing what Rosa's like, decided to see what was really up with the tea-pot, and this is what she found -- a pot that had been left on the stove for so long that the handle liquefied and bubbled down to carbon on the side of the kettle. Since nothing Rosa does bothers my Mom and will force her to let her go all I can do is document these things by taking pictures and telling stories. I honestly cannot do any more than this at this point.

Thanks for all of your comments and support re. Beau and the weed issue. This was behind a friend's cut, in case you don't know what the heck I'm talking about. BTW if you've added me to your friend's list and I haven't added you back yet, please let me know, again, and I'll add you back. It's hard for me to keep up with this and I really hope no one will ever take this kind of thing personally. But getting back to the whole Beau thing; I'm not against pot-smoking, in fact I'm all for the legalization of it. Believe me I know the whole sordid history of how it became illegal in the first place, I know how wonderful it can be for people in pain, I think it was given to us by God and like any mind altering substance is great when used in moderation. I know that hemp is a good thing -- I think the Mayflower flew hemp sails. When it comes to the benefits of weed you're preaching to the choir, (I'd grow it in my own back yard as a great big Fuck You to the DEA and the dark powers that be if I didn't think it'd put our entire family at risk), but I've also seen the downside of what can happen when you overuse and abuse it. I've seen what it can do to wildly talented and super sensitive people. I've seen how it can sap the life out of a person and become an overused crutch that halts growth, stunts ambition, and impairs memory.

Most importantly I just don't think it's a good idea for a fourteen-year-old who is still afraid to sleep in the dark, whose body and mind have not finished growing, to be smoking pot. I mean he has enough challenges as it is without having to throw this in to the mix. Let's at least wait until he's in high school, puhlease.

Some of you asked what tagging is. Well, it just so happens Scott has had a rash of it behind his house so I snapped this for you. Tagging is basically when you spray your name in a kind of gang graffiti code anywhere you feel like, kind of like peeing on your territory with paint. Then there's this whole turf war deal that happens when someone from a rival gang comes along, crosses out your name, and adds their own.

Someone else mentioned how amazingly good some graffiti can be. Yeah, I know, I've seen some unbelievably cool art done with spray cans, and coincidentally, Beau's friend S. is a really talented artist, so I definitely encourage him to channel this in more positive ways. In fact I just let the kids go wild spraying a big tarp in our back yard. And that's another something I have to take a picture of to share with you...

These are some weeds that were growing in Scott's alley. They looked pretty to me for some reason, like wheat.

Hunh, I just saw an ad for the season finale of Chasing Farrah -- I had actually wanted to see this, but I couldn't find it. Maybe we don't get TV Land at my house.

Damnit, it's really looking like I am going to be handing Scott a five-dollar bill tomorrow. Maybe I should just put it under his pillow, like the tooth faerie.

Oh Shit, Scott just woke up and came in. I said, "I have twenty-nine minutes to go," and he just kissed me on the head knowingly and then sung, "Funny girl, funny girl, you are so busted." LOL

We got our new kitten today -- the flame point Ragdoll -- only it didn't turn out to be one kitten, it's actually two. Not only am I mad at myself for getting a kitty from a store -- when there are so many cats waiting to die in shelters -- (Fucking "shelters" and the people who drop off their pets there), but I'm super pissed at the idjit who bred these poor little kittens and ripped them away from their mother so young. They should be nuzzling up against a warm furry mama-cat belly and getting all of the benefits of nursing for another three weeks at least.

These guys are so young, I mean they look like they only just opened their eyes, and they even need my help going to the bathroom. So here I am nursing kittens and paying for the privilege. But what was I gonna do, the woman who sold the kittens to the pet store was just some kind of middle person, and the manager of the store, (who was understandably pissed off at this woman who had brought these super tiny kittens in), couldn't get her to take them back to their mama cat. I couldn't separate them, I honestly don't think they'd survive without each other, so I took both of them. Pray for us?

They are soooooo cute, but they don't look like cats to me for some reason. They look like little white tennis balls with legs. I promise I'll take pictures and put them up soon, soon, soon. Tomorrow I'm taking them to my vet to see if I can vaccinate them, treat their little eyes, and see if I can do anything to boost their immune systems. I'll have to create an isolated area at my house where they won't come into contact with any of my cats until they're bigger because they look way too delicate to me and I don't want to risk their catching anything, or giving anything to any of our other darling feline pals.

Oh, and they're incredibly friendly and full of life -- as small as they are, they just want to be held and cuddled, and they purr the second you touch them. I so hope everything I've read about Ragdolls is true. I'm even starting to imagine that these two little white fluff-people are my beloved Mirau and his twin brother Skinny reincarnated, but that would just be too wonderful and amazing and it's not too likely to happen, but hey, a heartbroken cat-worshipping gal can always hope.

I finally got to go to this local Mexican restaurant for dinner tonight. This is the restaurant that Scott's been raving about, Las Fuentes, and it was everything he said and more. It reminds me of the kind of restaurants we have in downtown/east LA -- super authentic and colorful. I wish I could take all of you to dinner there : )

...and there goes my five-bucks ; )

This is a hibiscus on Scott's neighbor's tree. Remember the sweet, elederly, Armenian couple? They invited me for "kafee" today again, but I had to turn them down because we were losing the light : ( They are so cute.

April Winchell's Web Site and Surgery Woes, and Kids, Weed and Computers

Hello My Little Pudding Pops,

I stole this phrase from April Winchell -- well, sort of, I was at her site, getting depressed about her possibly having to shut it down because of the high cost of bandwidth, when this word just popped out at me. If you haven't been there, you should go soon because as she says;

"For some reason or other, this site remains extremely popular. I don't know why. I'm not particularly interesting, I have a very bleak outlook, and my life and career have been circling the drain for the last year or so. But God love you people, you just lap it up. Maybe I make you feel better, if only because you aren't me.

So basically what has happened is that my bandwidth bill is now beyond my reach. The more you like the site, the more it costs. It's the exact opposite of how a business model is supposed to work, unless you're Disney.

The point is, it's now too expensive for me to keep this thing up and running. I don't know if I'll be able to do this much longer, so I would suggest that you rape the site now, and take all the mp3s and everything else you want. Just pretend you're in South Central and the Lakers won the playoffs."

She is the funniest writer so naturally her entries are a blast to read in a kind of dry morbid sort of way, heh, and she has the best sense of the absurd and her MP3s and links are to die for. I really don't want to see her shut her site down, but if she is planning on doing this, I guess we'd better take her advice and grab her links and toys, sniff, sniff. Scott and I did what we could by buying tickets to her sushi party and then chickening, (or should I say raw-fishing), out at the last minute. : ( Hey, at least she got the money and we didn't have to stand around and try to be social with everyone but the one or two people we would actually like to get to know. I'm shy, he's shy, what're you gonna do? *shrugs*

After we came home from dinner last night, and while I was dutifully trying to load all of Scott's pretty pictures, (Well, pretty for him, because even though he is a gorgeous man, we are neither of us at our best visually right now, due to aging and weight gain -- these thinks happen, Goddamnit), so I could select my favorites for recommending to Daniel, Beau's friend Phil called. Poor Phil, he's caught in the middle between Beau and Steven and me, (oh Shit I just spelled out the S., oh screw it, it's not like you couldn't ' have guessed), in this whole teenage pot-smoking drama. You see, Phil was my friend first. I have no problem making friends with anyone from ages zero through infinity, bugs and animals as well, and when I saw him sitting all by himself, or well, sitting with a bunch of naked men and Burners, under the info tent at Burning Man, I couldn't help but want to bring him home and love him up. I thought he'd have more fun hanging out in an air-conditioned, video-game-equipped RV, with people his own age in Kidsville, than sitting on a dusty couch in Info-Land helping every Internet-starved-cyber-junkie like me who came along looking for aid.

So, that's how we became friends. But then that's how he became friends with Beau as well. See Phil is lonely because he spends way too much time at home. He's too smart for his own good and after he hacked his school's computer system, mail bombed it, and sent termination letters to, and resignation letters from, every teacher in his entire public school, they just "decided" it'd be better for him if he did his learning from home, and far, far away from them. So there he is, far away from people his own age, living with his kind, super sensitive, depressed and a little too hippy-gal-left-back-in-the-woo-woo-New-Age-seventies Mom, in the foothills of the Sierra mountains.

He's lonely and he needs playmates and the phone never stops ringing at our house. He's so smart that at sixteen he's already got his own hosting company, and is supporting himself selling electronics on eBay, building computers for people, and getting paid a thousand bucks per, designing corporate web sites. If only Beau would/could do this, instead of draining me of every last real cent in exchange for these crap game dollars that you need in order to buy things in his alternate reality gaming worlds.

Basically he's caught between friendships, and gets confused. He got caught in the middle with the whole S. weed smoking thing, and I had to protect him and play go-between for about an hour last night in order to clear things up for all of the kids who were fighting over who ratted out who because S.'s Mother couldn't keep her yap shut. Yuck. I thought I'd left this stuff behind back in high-school. The hardest part of all of this for me is that it's driven a small wedge between Beau and me. I've always prided myself on our closeness and how open we are with each other or well, with how open Beau feels he can be with me. But now, inevitably, he's got secrets, and it makes me sad.

Okay, that's about it for now. I have small white fluff creatures to take to the vet, and nasty-ass-freeway-traffic to try to beat.

Big loving hugs,

PS: What's Your Papal Name? I'm Pope Honorius V -- apparently a very indecisive Pope.

Oh and for any of my fellow weight-loss-surgery pals, or anyone considering the post-surgery-tummy-tuck-boob-lift thing that I'm putting off, here's what she wrote about her own surgeries behind the cut;Collapse )