2 inches of rain expected...

what a day.

today was our last day with the rental car. guy is taking it back to the airport right now. it's pouring here in nola. when it pours like this in The City, people stand under overhangs and stare in wonder, which is maybe only once a year. our hotel courtyard is so deep in water, that stepping in it covers my entire foot, fortunately clad in snow boots (yeah, snow, mom bought them for me, not sure why). i'm sitting in the laundry room doing laundry that couldn't wait as it reeks so terribly from bio-dad's house. he never stops smoking with all the windows closed and no air flow. p-u. BIG TIME P-U!!!

guy and i visited the Merigny Fourbourg (sp?) district this morning after reading that it's the truly coolest place in town. turns out that is only for nighttime activities. no breakfast to be found. we finally found a place that wasn't a bar and were faced with a menu that we, a left-coaster and a right-coaster, could barely understand. "Hot Shrimp Salad" "Beans and Rice" "Chitlins" etc. i ordered a $10 ham sandwich, guy got the hot shrimp salad which turned out to be iceberg lettuce with fried shrimp on top. turned out to be delicious. my sandwich had REAL ham on it, nothing processed and his tiny shrimp were far more tasty than anything we could dream of on the west coast. total bill: $25 when all we wanted was coffee and a croissant.

a little while ago, he dropped me off at the hotel and took off for the airport. i had a simple plan to grab the laptop, as there is only WIFI in the courtyard adjacent to the laundry room, grab the laundry, grab a bottle of wine and my smokes, but it couldn't have been more complicated. it went something like this:

1. must get laundry detergent. walk two blocks in pouring rain so bad that my pants and raincoat are soaked clear through and soak my clothes underneath as well.
2. run back to hotel with detergent.
3. grab computer, wrapped in three layers of plastic, backpack with wine, a glass, cigarettes.
3. go to laundry room, realize i have not brought the right key for the room and am locked out and have no change for laundry.
4. put laundry in machine and race to front lobby to get new key. front lobby filled with people checking in. takes 15 minutes to get new key and that is with me cutting in front of some people.
5. run back up to room to get in with new key and grab change.
6. run down to laundry room to put in detergent and get laundry rolling.
7. sit down with computer and attempt to pop cork, doesn't work. cork will not come out. hotel employee runs by, i call out to him, he pops it after much much effort. i offer him some as a thank you, he accepts after finding a cup. sweet, little toothless guy who probably stayed here throughout katrina.
8. pour wine, get back on computer, ready myself for a desperately needed cigarette and glass of wine. NOPE! lighter doesn't work, it's soaked.
9. pack up computer in layers of plastic and put inside backpack and run to bar to get matches. no matches there. no one in the bar has extra matches. at this point i'm BEYOND coping. i'm in survival mode.
10. run back up to room, to grab another lighter, new door key doesn't work. i am now resigned to not getting a cigarette.

finally after only 10 minutes in laundry room, nice lady from kentucky arrives to dry her sneakers. she is a smoker and i'm in luck. finally, my simple wine-cigarettes-writing-laundrying idea kicks into full action.

all of this would actually be kinda fun if guy and i hadn't gotten in a fight after seeing the wreckage of the ninth ward which sent two inches of rain flooding out of my face.

my favorite town, my favorite guy and typical weather, that's all i ask

guy and i are sitting in a beautiful courtyard in new orleans. just the way i like it, it has been raining, it is fairly warm and it is humid. we have taken down two bottles of wine and are packing it up soon.
love to all for their good wishes for our crazy marriage adventure soon to come.
more later, when it's, perhaps, a little less crazy.
xo

I said "Yes."

last night, after we arrived in louisiana and had a couple of drinks to calm our fried plane nerves...

guy played a trick on me.

he'd been telling me for weeks, that my christmas gift had to be opened in louisiana and it was made up of many different components. for weeks he would get home late from work saying he had to go pick up a component, check on a component, get a component shipped to our hotel, etc. etc. he even bought me some kick-ass new boots, kd lang would be proud of, to open on christmas eve with my parents at their house in carson city. he played me. he played me good.

so last night, after getting a drink and going back to our room, guy said i had to face the window while he arranged all the components on the bed so i could see them all at once. i told him i'd have to sit, my back was achy, you know...while i faced the window he made a lot of "fiddling" noise, knocking stuff around. i really had no idea what he could put together to make one present, what the theme could be, what this was all about. i'd been trying to figure it out for weeks and had come to no conclusions at all. i even found a clue, i found the words "september birth stone" left in the google search bar on his laptop, but considered receiving jewelry so preposterous, i put the idea out of my head and completely forgot about it.

when he was done fiddling, he told me to stand up first and then turn around. i did so and, sitting at my feet, on his knees, was guy and he was crying and he was holding a box out at me and he said, "will you marry me?" and then he stood up and we held each other, and yes, CRIED AND CRIED and i said yes!! yes! and we held each other for a long time and then there was a knock at the door. i was just shocked. shocked, i can't tell you, i was floored. and guy got the door and it was a man holding champagne glasses and a bottle and some chocolate and strawberries, clearly the "romance package." and we drank champagne and he told me that all of his friends knew, and all of his family, except him mom and even one of my dearest friends, W. knew and then he told me that he had already told my parents. he said he told them that he was going to ask me to marry him and did he have their blessings. he said my mom grabbed him and hugged him and cried and cried, saying yes, yes, and my dad gave him an awkward hug and then backed off and gave him a big "Thumb's Up!!" and that they were very happy and said yes, he has their blessings.

then he asked me to call his mom. i woke her up from her cold maryland slumber. i said, sarah? sarah? your son proposed to me. and she cried and i cried some more and she told me loved me so much and she was so happy.

i feel undeserving. and scared and excited and empowered more than anything. i feel like we have just joined forces to created an unstoppable force. i am filled with hope and excitement for what will most certainly be an outstanding future. i feel we will have a HUGE future. together we are gigantic. is that what kim deal was singing about?

"gigantic gigantic gigantic
a big big love."

Feeding the Louisiana jones

guy and i are about to embark on a little adventure. it's all about my weird family this time.

stop number one is an ugly desert town called carson city in nevada, where my stepdad moved my mom from a beautiful town in the napa valley, so that they could grow old in a very cold climate and remote location that their children would have trouble reaching at christmas. there guy will experience my stepdad at truly his finest. stepdad is always in a good mood on christmas, excercising his seldom seen sense of humor and relaxing for the first time all year. guy will see my mom in the way she really is: sentimental, fun, conscientious, into decorating with poinsettias just like his mom and happier than any other time, because one of her children has come to visit her in the godforsaken land of nevada.

then we'll leave for midstate-louisiana where my bio-dad and my second cousin live. these are the only people who make sense to me besides my grandparents who are dead. bio-dad has been a drunk for 45 years and has lived an exceptionally colorful life. he's on his 18th month of sobriety as of this very minute and is hilarious and entertaining when alcohol is not the dominate liquid in his bloodstream. we are very similar and guy gets to see this, a family member like me. the others (the step-family), while i love them, are not like me. this is huge for bio-dad as he has never, ever, in his entire life, had someone come visit him at christmas. he grew up without a dad, and with a violent mom who considered him a nusciance. bio-dad's brain is about to explode with joy. i too, am really happy about seeing him on christmas for the first time in my entire life.

after that we will travel back down south to new orleans, where we hope to dedicate one day to the katrina effort and three days to partying, shopping, filming, photographing and maybe exploring the bayou in a canoe.

dudes. we are so excited.

i'll be writing from the road as i will have guy's laptop to use. do they have cell service and wifi in midstate louisiana? this is a serious question, and seriously, the answer could be no.

we promise to hang out on the safe side of the levee*, but we cannot promise to stay away from bourbon street.

check you from the road in loozy.
xo


*ok, in new orleans, no one lived on the wrong side of the levee and they died anyway, but in vidalia, where bio-dad lives, people actually build their homes on the river side of the levee. seriously.



ps. my boss is the newest angel in my life. more on that later.

R.I.P Syd Vicious, the cat

when i picked up syd at the shelter in june of 1995, i didn't know i'd have him until i was almost 36 1/2 years old. like, almost 40.
when i picked up syd, i didn't know we would move three times together and that i would get us out of the ghetto, a place that made us both nervous, and move us into a beautiful apartment with a yard for him to watch birds in.
i didn't know that i would find a way to make a living as an artist one day.
i didn't know that i would find a way to make a living as a writer one day.
i didn't know that i'd get married.
and divorced.
and make two wonderfully-shlocky movies with my friends.
and stay friends with my ex-husband who would cry when my cats died.
i didn't know i would meet guy and have more fun than i ever thought possible, camping in the rain, driving up the coast, going to trader joe's. stupid shit like that. or that syd would make guy, a non-cat person, love a cat.
i had no idea i'd fall in love again.
i didn't know my little sister would get pregnant and marry her long-time boyfriend, a shy man, several years her junior who guy calls "giggles" because he doesn't talk much but giggles a lot.
i never knew i'd become friends with a cincinattian (forgive the spelling) who would reveal syd's masochistic side by slapping his butt over and over and over again much to syd's delight. and then that that friend would get married, move away and have two kids.
when i got syd, i had no idea he would see me through two nervous breakdowns.
i had no idea that syd would ever stop asking for food.
and get skinny when he'd always been such a pig.
i had no idea that syd would stop biting my guests, scaring them. that he would become an old softie and quit being punk rock.
i never could have guessed that he would be so sad after the yeti died, and get sick. and stay sick.

i certainly had no idea that he would die on december 21, 2006.
xoxoxo he's free now.

Christmas Special #4: the night i danced with Beck

so i danced onstage with beck once.

the show was at the santa cruz convention center (?) which looks like a high school gym (although i had that feeling seeing nirvana on four hits of acid at the oakland coliseum arena, but that's another story).

it was towards the end of the show. i felt a strong tug on my dress by my friend who pointed towards an open doorway on the right of the stage, very near where we were standing (rocking out actually). i looked and saw girls from the audience walking through the door and ending up onstage where beck stood, dancing and singing. i looked at my friend, she gave me a look like "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" i looked at guy. he gave me a "go ahead" sign. i paused: i was wearing little clothing, namely a slip that had previously been underneath my dress. but i had taken the dress off from rocking out so hard and being so hot in the high school gym. i paused...and then went. my thoughts were, "are you fucking kidding? you're not going to go onstage and dance with beck because of what you're wearing?!"

and so i went.

and so i danced.

the thing about dancing is, you can't do it if you're looking at anything. eyes following other people's movements does not make it possible to make one's own movements.

i stared at the audience through supra-hot bright lights. i looked at the other girls,

i looked at beck.

i was onstage at a rock concert, in front of thousands of people. with beck. i was onstage with beck at a rock concert and the lights were really hot and there were thousands of people, and you really can't see them from up there...and it was just so unreal. it was just like...definitely a dream.

so i closed my eyes and danced my stupid dance. my non-dance. my lame dance. whatever. i did it and didn't care.

after that one song at the end of the show, we were sort of encouraged to leave, very gently, but obviously. some girls went up to beck and hugged him or kissed him. i stayed in the back and i felt fine with that.

i've already met beck. i've locked eyes with those baby blues. it was the other girls' turns.

when i got to my new job the next monday, my snotty little coworker asked me what i did that weekend. i said,

um, well, um, i danced onstage with beck.

it got her attention. she really was a little bitch but she made me laugh the next monday when she asked sarcastically, "so, what did you do this weekend? dance onstage with beck?"

i totally laughed.

My cat, my valentine

3 pages of instructions, about how to deal with my ailing cat, have been written for housesitting friends who will be here while guy and i are in louisiana, curing my jones.

it was exhausting to write, it's exhausting to read, it is in fact, exhausting to take care of syd. i'm so afraid he's going to come to the end while we're gone, i gave my housesitting angel-friends my death-desires for him in case they can't reach us if something serious happens: valium shot, euthanasia shot, save the ashes.

i need a support group.

syd is so high maintenance right now. annoyance at that conflicts with my deep love for him. he's been my closest pal for 11 years...he's been the perfect cat for me. smart - listens to me and responds like he understands what i'm saying. intuitive - knows when i'm upset and comforts me. quiet - is not a vocal cat, we always communicated fine without sounds, which can be very annoying to me. i'm so sound-sensitive. he's been perfect for me, for the 11 years i've had him of the 16 years of his life.

until now.

now he will do this meowing thing that won't end. it just doesn't end. i'll look him straight in the face and say, "syd. what. what do you want from me." and we stare at each other and his mouth keeps opening and closing opening and closing opening and closing MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW.

it's like he doesn't know why he does it either. it's like neither of us recognizes this situation at all and we're both tired of it.

to deal with this constant meowing, guy puts a tshirt on syd's head, but this doesn't last long. i throw him q-tips, his favorite toy, but that doesn't last long enough either. all morning long, it's "give me q-tips," it's "put me on the counter," it's "i hate this food. i don't feel like eating but i'm starving. give me something else, figure it out," it's, "figure it out figure it out figure it out." it's, "i haven't eaten in days because i'm sick and my brain isn't right..." MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW.

it's "let me in the bathroom." it's, "let me on your lap even while you're wrapping gifts and eating all at the same time."

it's, "help me, i'm dying."

i tell you what: i can't help him, and it's fucked up.

sometimes i wish he was already dead, because i can't take anymore. then i hate myself because i love him so much and when he's gone i don't know how i will deal with that. i'm sure this is common, but i've never felt it before. it's fucked and i'm on my own.

Opened doors of perception

today i corresponded with my best friend in 2nd grade (and a few other scattered years). we have known each other for 29 years. we write a lot. but today we talked about some childhood perspectives. she thought i had her dream-life. she had no idea my mom was very depressed when i was young and that i made breakfast and lunch for myself and my little sisters every day, starting in grammar school. she had no idea i had a stay-in-bed mom. she thought my house was super awesome, that we had cable tv. but we didn't have any kind of tv at all until 1980. she didn't know i got laughed at for not knowing who chachi was in 2nd grade. she thought i had nice clothes growing up. she didn't know i bought them myself because i loved designer and my parents wouldn't buy me designer. she didn't know that i was able to work as a babysitter at a young age, because i was very tall (and thus seemed older), in order to get the designer clothes. i was as tall as my mom at age 9. she also didn't know that i was a thief and i stole a lot of the nice clothes. she certainly didn't know that i didn't stop that habit until the embarrassing age of 27.

i knew her family was poorer than mine, and although we lived in a nice 1970s tract house on the west side of town, my dad didn't work for years and we drank powdered milk for a while. i knew she was embarrassed of her house because she never wanted me to come over, only to come to my house (even though a screaming maniac dad lived there), and she would meet me at the end of her driveway when my mom would pick her up to come over. i knew she didn't have a phone for a long time when we were in grammar school...our moms communicated via passed note between she and i, about whether she could come over and spend the night or not. i did not know that she thought so highly of the hell that i felt i lived in. i did not think anything weird about her, and she did not say today, but i know, that that probably surprised her.

“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception” -A.H.

She must have been drunk, high and confused

i wore my L7 wifebeater to work the other day, tastefully covered up with a nice sweater, and the little L7 logo peeking out the top.

i found out who the rockers at my work are, always nice to know. one guy told me he saw L7 in galveston, tx, where he's from, and "the singer picked up on me. she was really going after me." i told him, "uh, well, she's a lesbian. i don't get it." i asked him, "two of them sing, it wasn't suzi gardner, the straight one?" no, he says, no, it was the leader.

i didn't know what to say. i can't explain it but if it turns out that donita sparks, the raddest, most hardest rockin' woman of all time, turns out to be bi, or god forbid, straight, my whole image of L7 will be a little bit blown. i mean, this woman wrote the line, "got so much clit, i don't need no balls."

Images from my mom's life

i'm making a mobile for my mom for christmas and filling the spots with images from her life. this is the list i came up with. for some reason, i really love it, as far as lists go.

crawdads
antebellum homes
cheerleading
sewing
"hand avenue"
mobile bay
shells
children
marriage
love