Here is a kind of grim mugshotish looking picture of Beau. We used it to make a fake ID for him, shhhhhhh. I just wanted you to see his new orange, red, and black hair, although I prefer blonde, blue, or turquoisey green.
Here is the little boy who was about four years old when his Mom first came to work for us, Duar-Duar looking all tough and goateed in my office. Doesn't it look like the teletubby is about to do something horrible to him, and if you strain you can just catch the Tammy Faye paper fan in the background.
Wow, there's a handsome Marine at our front door, in uniform no less. He's looking to recruit my assistant Esther's son Eduardo. Duar-Duar isn't here today, but he isn't a resident so he can't join up anyway.
I know that I am different from many of my LJ pals in that while I'm pretty darned liberal, flamingly so on certain issues, I do respect and support our guys and gals in the military, at least the ones who are lower down in the ranks. I don't trust our government and it's policies, I don't think we should go trouncing around the world bombing it to hell, making allowances for the deaths of any innocent people in exchange for the death of some evil bastard who we were once friendly with. It's all too frighteningly Orwellian and ominously secret society power based on oil and big business for me, but I do hold a warm flame in my heart for people who sign on and maintain the ideals that at their core are decent.
However with the world in the state that it's in right now I don't know if it's such a good idea for a kid about to graduate from high school to be joining up with any branch of the military services right now. I'm sounding like a coward when so many people have lost their beloved children but it scares me, the state of things, the bombings, the hatred, the killing, and I wouldn't want to see Esther's only son shipped off to fight and die in the Middle East. I also have this nagging suspicion that our government rounds up the poorest kids from the poorest neighborhoods to fill out their front lines on the battle front.
We've all been trying for years to figure out how to help Eduardo get his papers. He's already involved in one process but that's going to take years, more years than he's got right now to get things sorted out so he can go to college. I would have adopted him if it weren't for two major sticking points; 1.) I have way too many pets for any social worker to pass me on an adoption home study, it's going to take years to sort this one out, which brings us to reason number 2.) I want to adopt a Chinese daughter at some point in the future and the more children you have, apparently the less the likelihood is of your being able to adopt. They must figure, "Oh he or she has two or three already, they don't warrant having a child as badly as Couple A who are childless."
Just as a weird side note, because my SAT's were so high, my grades were good, and I had achieved a lot of recognition in high school for extracurricular activities, and probably because they were desperate for girls, I was offered a shot at a scholarship to West Point in my senior year of high school, they pursued me pretty aggressively, but I was hardly a fit. I was in my hard core rebellious punk rock girl phase and all I wanted to do was go to RADA, (the Royal Academy of Arts in London), but my family wouldn't even hear of my going to the auditions in New York, so I went to UCLA instead.
I had kind of an amazing dream about my ex last night. I'm dreaming less and less of him as the years go by, although it might not seem like it to some people. I think I will probably always dream about the people who were the most significant people in my life, Robby, Lorraine, my Father, even though I am not in touch with them any more. Well, in my Dad's case he comes and visits me as a hummingbird from time to time and I actually think that when he appears in my dreams he's really there trying to communicate with me so I also think that when I dream about Robby or Lorraine, some small part of their souls are traveling out of their bodies and trying to work things out with me as well.
What was special about last night's Robby dream is that we were in bed together, with all of the same weird coldness that has grown up between us, but we were really talking. As opposed to the usual Robby dreams where just happen to be in the same frightening or stressful circumstances together, or I am chasing after him trying to get him to create some kind of closure on the horrible torturous way we split up, this time we were actually talking, or I was talking, he was listening and actually answering my questions. It was so helpful for my poor battered psyche. I was telling him how hurt and angry I was that he left in the way he did, and I was spewing out all my judgments about the type of girls, and I do mean girls, that he dates.
I told him how much it hurts me, how much of a wound and a rejection it is to me as a woman that he exclusively dates hot looking young girls, and conversely that he avoids commitment to or with them at all costs. We really got into it and although I can't remember all of the details now it felt good to be able to air it all out, to say things to him and have him actually respond in ways that made me have to take into account my part in all of this. Also I was able to see where my boundary is with how close I would like to allow him to be with me, how close I could allow him to get before I became uncomfortable, and it was not as close as the old me would have wanted, and closer than the new Robby-rejecting me thought I could stand. Muy interesante. And Lord is it taking me a long time to process all of this out.
Poor Scott, how long will he have to hear about my dreams about my ex? For as long as it takes I guess, or he could skim over them when he reads my journal, and know it's just a natural healthy process for someone who loves as deeply and is as devoted and loyal as I am. I don't take friendships lightly, that's probably why I've built up such an enormous wall around myself, a fortress really. I just don't want to get hurt anymore. Scott slipped in just over the top of the drawbridge before it was pulled up tight against the castle wall. I think some of you are managing to get in when I occasionally forget to shut the windows at night, or when the guards are off chasing Banquo's ghost or naughtily smoking some dragon clawed opium pipe somewhere.
That last reference was to a really cool looking pipe I saw at last weekend's Santa Monica Airport flea market. Oooooh Lord I do love the swap meet. One of my friends had it in with her jewelry and I thought, "Oh, a Chinese dragon claw, Beau would love this." So she took it out and showed it to me and told me that it was an opium pipe and I had to laugh imagining what the hell kind of mother would give her thirteen year old son an opium pipe, "Uh, here my little darling, stuff this full of drugs and remember your Mum whenever you get completely fucked up out of your mind on hash, crack, pot or opium, whichever you prefer dear." Needless to say I didn't buy it, but we all did get a good laugh just thinking about it.
I'm still working on my Sharon Show story but I made myself promise I would read at least a third of the five hundred and fifty e-mails that are screaming for my attention in just one of my e-mail accounts, before I did anything fun. And here I am again playing with you before I've made myself get any real work done. Argh and Bleh.
Big loving hugs from your,
PS: I really want to record a little sound affect file for you right now so you can hear what it sounds like at my house at this very moment. There is a cat fight going on, typical, two or three of the boys are yowling and hissing at each other, and our two littlest dogs who don't like the sound of this are trying to break it up by barking at them. At the same time that all of this is going on, the big black crows outside are ock ocking away and it just all sounds so funny I want to share it with you. But because of my darling son, and five or six leetle children who are here every day mucking about in my things, I can't put my hands on a tape recorder for you fast enough to capture the sounds. Damn!
PPS: Just in case any of you are dumb enough to have hung on with AOL for nine long years like I have, sheesh, the new version SUCKS! Don't upgrade to 9.0 until they get all of the bugs worked out because, as Scott says, why be their beta testers for free? They're making enough money off of us at it is. Bitter sounding aren't I? Long story -- very pissed off at AOL, eBay, Paypal, and E-snipe, will fill you in later.
Oh isn't he just the cutest? I can't ever get him to sit still for a picture so they're always fuzzy like this one. And here are some other small kitty pictures, I don't remember the code to link them to their larger versions and have spent so much time writing to you when I wasn't supposed to that you can just pick through my index at jacquicam.com if you want to see the bigger ones.
The kitty in the middle, Jake, is my favorite being in the world. He sleeps with me every night, either cuddled up in my arms or snoring beside me on my pillow. He throws up on me sometimes too but I would put up with anything for my one eyed pirate cat.
PS: Pinky the hairless wonder rat was out of his cage playing and like the naughty little shit he is, he went up to little brown rat in his cage and bit one of his fingers really hard. I had to apply compression and ice to this tiny little rattie's finger. He did not like it one bit. Bad, bad Pinky. Having pneumonia will only get you so far around here before you're put on a stay in your cage bad boy rat ban.