58 toes

We bought a house just over a year ago. It’s one of six units in a Melrose Place style building, sans pool. It has a basement and three levels. Built in 1926, there are built-ins and hardwood floors and lots of charm. It’s all crooked and slanty and sometimes I think it will collapse at any moment. There is a fireplace and a tv room and a kitchen so small all the appliances have been blasted with our shrink ray in order to fit. We call it The HOM. Or the CONDOM, given it's condominium status.

Yesterday, it felt like a HOME for the first time in our forever there. It has something to do with :A: and her things filling out the gaps in our things and her just being there really. A happy face to come home to. And her feathered friends, too. I love their tweeting. It has something to do with M and HIM the cat being there. M’s kitschy contributions to the décor polka dotting all the rooms. His basement bedroom, all circa 16 year old him. His guitar playing making its way through the heating vents and filling the rooms with music as homey as fresh baked bread. And it has to do with me. My art on the walls. The odd ball colors I opted to paint everything. I am a maker of the cozy. I know how to fluff a pillow and fold a blanket in such a way that you want to take a nap the second you look at ‘em. It’s a gift.

I was finishing my paint-by-number when I felt it. :A: was getting ready to meet her boyfriend for coffee and studying at Spyhouse. M was waiting for his friend N to pick him up to go play music at an open mic night in northeast Minneapolis. I didn’t have anywhere to be, but a movie to watch and a painting to finish. It just kinda hit me and I felt at home and smilie and thankful for it. Lucky even. It’s a nice place. Full of funky things. Overflowing with neat people.

Happy.

doom doom doom doom doom

Today is Pretend You Are From Outer Space Day!

Yay!

Inspired by Invader Zim!

He is an alien invader who, like most alien invaders, wishes to take over Earth through a string of evil plots and hijackings.

Also, like many alien invaders, he is petite.

Here are fun facts about Invader Zim:

• He like waffles that have waffles in them!
• He has a dog that isn’t really a dog named Gir.
• He calls money “earth monies.”
• He occasionally sports a name tag that says “Human” on it.
• He has an “I HEART EARTH!” sign in his front yard.
• He asks people things like this: “In the event of, say, a full scale invasion, how prepared would you say this planet’s defenses would be?”
• His understanding of human biology is smallish and adorable: “You can't keep your eyes closed forever! You have to breathe sometime!”

Being from outer space myself (just for today) I have come up with my own list of words to describe common earth items for my fellow invaders:
• head = brain bag
• home = earth shelter
• car = motorized automobile car
• children = underdeveloped earthinoid beings
• pets = underspecies companion slaves
• food = nourishment pellets

These from my pollyblog pal and companion alien invader, Jason:
• cat = apathy creature
• bus = motorized crowd organizer
• sushi = smelly sustenance
• sitcoms = timely hilarity
• slippers = furry foot wear
• paper towels = roll of sponge

Coming Soon: More from my partners in earthly misdeeds!

Make your own list, er, your own stacked pile of thinked thoughts! It’s fun!

Now on to two important side notes:

#1. Apparently this has been on the box since 1978 (thanks, Internet!) but today was the first day I realized that Frosted Flakes are actually Frosted Flakes Of Corn. I had no idea. Probably because it's written all small under the 1000 point sized "Frosted Flakes."



#2. I came home from a babysitting interview feeling rather hungry and lo and behold, :A: was making dinner for all of us. It was like a present! I couldn’t have been more happy to smell supper smells than I was just then and to top it off it was delicious :A:-A-Roni with cheese. Happiness!

candy apple grey

the ground opened up
and suddenly i was gone
he didn’t notice

- - - - - - - - - -

There is so much churning inside me it’s hard to spit out these words. Big mean authoritarian voices, scolding. I should have stayed home. I am not good enough. I will never be good enough. I am not pretty. I have funny shaped lips. My eyes are lopsided. My body, unbelievably flawed. I am not clever. I am not precious. Or special. Or anything written on a 3rd grade sticker of accomplishment. It’s loud sometimes. Drowning out everything else. Drowning. Holding me under. I am not anything. I am not worth any work. The. Most. Beautiful. Girl. I. Have. Ever. Seen. In. Person. Thinks. She. Has. A. Pin. Head. And that is just what she says aloud.

I have to write that I am worth work on the black board a hundred times in dusty white chalk. I am worth a swim across an ocean. I am worth a million poems. That voice is small. Small and defiant. A quiet little whisper from a secret little hidden room. I am good. I am adorable. I am swimming. I am pretty. I have eyes that speak for me beautifully. My smile lights up rooms. I am a good person. I am kind. Clever. Whip smart. Loveable. Goose bump inducing. My friends are lucky. The boys I choose to kiss are the luckiest boys in the world. My hands are so soft it’s like they aren’t even there. My heart is sometimes all I can hear. It’s thumping downs out traffic noise.

I am worth work.

I am worth work.

I.

Am.

isn't he cute?

For two days, I could eat cheese unbothered.

Let me explain.

:A:’s mom was visiting this weekend. She stayed with us. “The more, the merrier!” is apparently our motto. In order to make her stay comfortable, we had to lose the cat. She’s allergic. He’s furry. Enough said. So I made arrangements for HIM to visit a kitty resort, otherwise known as J and K’s house.

We love J and K. Did I mention that?

My first worry was their Christmas tree. I saw it all WWF style, with HIM in one corner and the tree in the other. There would be end of round bells and a referee and jeering fans. I pictured him swinging from the branches and ornaments crashing all around him, the lights flickering. This crazed look in his eyes. But you know what, he totally ignored it! Must have just thought it an overgrown, picky houseplant. Must have thought it was an air freshener. Either way, a trip to Target to replace all their holiday flare was unnecessary. Thank GOD, because we’re broke!

My second worry was that he would make himself too at home. Which he did. He always does. He has a lot of kitty self esteem and chutzpah. He is food obsessed. Wants to smell everything. When you open the refrigerator he hops up on his hind legs, paws on a shelf, and sniffs around for something that strikes his fancy. And if he finds it, he bats at it until it’s within reach, grabs it with his teeth and makes a run for it. Cheese is a favorite. You can’t leave anything on the counter or within jumping reach, which is surprisingly far given his small stature, or he’ll eat it. We’ve woken up to many a chewed up bag of bread or a half eaten cake. He has a sweet tooth, too. It’s crazy. He spanks scones. Loves bagels. Will climb you for a taste of blueberry muffin.

The first checking in phone call consisted of me apologizing for 1) HIM not letting them get any sleep 2) HIM eating everything he could 3) HIM spilling yogurt on the floor and 4) HIM's pesky want of attention. They tried to keep him out of their room because J has cat allergies too, and of course, their room was the only place he wanted to be. Meowing and scratching on the door. When J took a nap, not having gotten any sleep the night before thanks to the aforementioned meowing and scratching, she woke up with him on her chest and a piece of string by her side. He wanted to play. He figured out how to open the door. No good.

The second checking in phone call consisted of more apologies. He ate a bunch of bread that they had “hidden” on top of the refrigerator. K opted to sleep on the couch with HIM so J could get some sleep. Thankfully, that worked. Cold weather HIM is a snuggler. And then to pay K back for keeping him company all night, HIM ate all K’s scrambled eggs. And they were fancy scrambled eggs to with cream cheese and herbs. He hit the motherload.

“When are you guys coming to get HIM?’

“Immediately?”

“Yeah.”

banana bandana billowing breathlessly boing boing

I have the attention span of a gnat. My mind flips from topic to topic, thing to thing with lightening speed. I’m easily distracted. Easy to entertain. The vacant look in my eyes probably means I’m ignoring you. My hair looks fabulous today. Don’t you think? Who are all these people walking by, alive at the same time as me? The picket fence across the street looks like it’s made of licorice. I wonder what the cat is doing. Why does caffeine do this to me? I have natural rhythm. I love to tap dance. Smooth bossa nova beats are falling like raindrops around me. Hitting the floor with the sound of a wisk broom gliding over a snare drum. My stomach is growling for no good reason. Will I ever match who I think I am? The most beautiful woman I have ever seen in person thinks she has a pin head. What would I trade to be able to fly? What would she trade? Is this really that bad? I sold almost all my books. Losing proof of my intellect became more attractive then lugging them around. Nothing left to say how smart I am other than me. How smart am I? Is this a game? A race? Can I take my ball and go home now? I wonder what my favorite song would be had I heard every song. The strongest M&M should be used for breeding purposes. Does anyone eat Hostess Fruit Pies anymore? Why doesn’t the FDA demand that fruit pie be in quotes? I want to play a vicious game of Scrabble. I want motorcycle boots. I have a thousand ideas for a-line skirts. And paintings. And collages. And dioramas. Evil bands of pixies who steal baby limbs and hide them in flower blossoms. The aftermath of a wedding gone wrong. Pink polka dots. Stripes. Patterns. Men’s ties on the bias. Half and half is not good on cereal. Joyce has bats in her belfry. Louise always runs. Will the house fit the three of us? Will the three of us fit the house? I love screen prints. Graphic. Colorful. The simple ones are best. The ones with words are best. I’m going to the art sale today. Picking over the picked over. I want to play an instrument. I want to sing. I want to sing like a bird. I want to roller skate and drink eggnog. Like Christmas break when I was 12. All my childhood memories are in golden hazy colored Kodacrome. I came across letters when I cleaned the basement. Wonder where Jack is. Wonder where Andrew is. Wonder where Dave is. Of the three, Andrew is the one I wonder about most. Brilliant. Boyish charm. Brontosaurus. Boisterous. Bang bang. Beveled. Beehive. Burdon. Bluelight. Brain crazy. Bigger than life. Bubblegum pink. Bam do bloop goo ja ja goo. Bursting.

it's his pants that are square

Ah, Friday afternoon at the little shop of horrors.

Last night was the first night with all the roommates in the HOM! We stayed up late making crank phone calls and braiding each other’s hair. Then we skipped around the block holding hands. All the elements are there for us to be a big happy family, I guess it’s just a matter of seasoning. Here are the happy inducing elements, in no particular order because, again, that would be too hard:

• We all heart the Daily Show and two of us want to make-out with Jon Stewart. I’ll let you guess which two.
• We all like warmed buns.
• As though we had lived together since childhood, we painlessly staked out our spots on the sectional to watch tv.
• We all like chocolate!
• Our cups overflowth with the one liners.
• We have mix and match parts that lead to endless combinations for songs about how one of these things isn’t like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong.
• We are ripe for comic misunderstandings, ala Three’s Company.
• All our things blend together like a delicious soup.
• You’d think two birds and a cat would spell disaster, but so far so good! Here’s to hoping the cat doesn’t sprout door knob friendly thumbs!
• We all like alcohol!
• While only one tap dances, the other two like to watch tap dancing.
• While only one plays geetar, the other two like to listen.
• While only one is a brainy bird biologist, the other two are fans of the feathered friends.
• We all like macaroni and cheese.

That’s just like the Top 14. Our harmony goes on and on. Like Fruit by the Foot or a really bad movie. It’s never ending!

Here is a secret message to my friend Holly: Hello, my name is Grimace!

Tonight is tangy food stuffs and the Sponge Bob movie with M. I always call him Square Bob Sponge Pants. I had a whole if/then equation worked out to help me get it right, but it usually didn’t work. Mentally asking myself if it was him or his pants that were made of sponge. Somehow, I’d still mix it up. I feel like a grandma. Scratching my head wondering why the young’ns are watching a cartoon about a dish sponge. Named Bob, nonetheless.

Question: How do you make 6 hours feel like 600?

Answer: Work the afternoon shift at the shop!

My indentured servitude is nearly over. With that happy thought, I bid you ado.

sweet rolls and fast cars

Yesterday was a blur. Most likely due to the fact that I had very little sleep and had gotten high the night before. Everything was in slow motion and all my feelings were swirling close to the surface. It takes sleep for me to smile though this and when I don’t get it, well, watch out. I just might ask some questions or talk about my feelings. And then order dinner and watch a movie with you. And hold hands. It’s terrible.

My favorite line in the French dubbed version of Tommy Boy: “Ah, mon petit animal!”

It still feels like Thanksgiving. Mostly due to out of town visitors. :A:’s friend Z is here and while I hardly know him, his presence is reminiscent of still having the pumpkin pie on the table. Same thing goes for M’s brother. Although, he left yesterday. But when he was here, he was like the turkey. Maybe today, when :A: is driving Z to the airport through the grey and cold, the cornucopia of my Thanksgiving holiday will slowly start to disappear and it can just be December again. No one left to make time to see. No one to take to the mall or the zoo or the art museum. The quiet of their departure.

It snowed a few days ago, and against all odds (do I have to pay Phil Collins royalties to use that phrase?) it has stuck around. Only in patches and only on the side of the street that doesn’t get any sun. But there it is. Patchy. Grayish. And stubborn. A hint of what’s to come. It makes me think of Georgia and how I’m not there. How I wouldn’t have seen snow this year had I left when planned. How I wouldn’t be on the hunt for a warm pair of mittens. But there it is. And here I am. Holding on tightly to the idea that it could be nice somehow and that I could be very glad I stayed. Trying to escape this thin ice feeling that’s been following me around for days now. Much like me walking to the store on an icy morning, I feel unsure where to step. Here’s hoping for a warm day.

:A: is making me a tiny pillow shaped and colored like my gallbladder.

For two days now, my car has been unlocked with the key under the mat. I’d put the address up here if I thought it wouldn’t amount to insurance fraud. I will say this, it’s a VW Jetta. 1997. Black. On a side street in Minneapolis. Near a lake. Good luck!

Things I should add to my list of interests: hatching evil plans, fraud, bank robbery, black lights, Slayer, rubbing my hands together fiendishly, Kiss boots, ass kicking, doing things under the cover of darkness, illegal dumping.

My gallbladder says “hi” by the way.

The house is full. Like big Italian meal full. All of :A:’s things are piled on top of my things. And much of M’s things are yet to be moved in. But when they are moved in, they will be on top of :A:’s things, which are on top of my things, which just might be on top of someone else and their things, too. Perhaps some poor schmuck who answered a roommate ad I forgot that I’d put in. And is now buried under a pile of our things. Hopefully, he was smart enough to create an air bubble for himself. There are just paths leading from room to room. To the cat, it must seem like a corn maze.

But, today, I will clean it. I will organize it. I will make soup. With God as my witness, yeah, yeah, yeah. These intentions are, of course, pending nothing good being on tv.

When M’s brother was in town, we wound up getting treated to some karaoke by accident. (Isn’t that how it always happens?) It was at the Chatterbox. Our neighborhood pub. (AH, that could be a clue for those interested in stealing my car!) The guy who puts it on sings EXACTLY like Johnny Cash. And he pretty much only sings Johnny Cash. Smart move on his part. It was worth sitting through all the off-key, drunken versions of Top 40 favorites to hear him croak out Ring of Fire. M was so inspired by him, he wrote a blog (Excuse me, I had something in my throat.) post imagining his life. Giving him an Aqua-Netted wife, Mabel, and having him spend some time in the service. Gave him hobbies like gun shows and flea markets. A couple estranged kids. And a name, Clem. I told him it was a life he’d kick his ass over. Probably would hit too close to home. Made me wonder what someone would write about me.

Maybe they’d write that I was a fairy princess estranged from her kingdom to follow her true dream of taming wild squirrel into house pets and learning how to make bubblegum. I’d live in a mushroom and drive around in a black platform knee high boot. I would only eat gum drops and never grow old. I’d be president of the Weezer fan club and meet Rivers for lunch once a week at a little vegetarian place just off of 5th. He’d bring me daisies and kiss me on the cheek. I’d be able to fly. I would be TIME woman of the year. I’d inspire a mismatched sock trend that would last for years.