It looks like

about every three
days I show up here
for my party.

I like to read Rosie's
blog. Its entertaining.
Mostly its her realizing
she is her.

I think she is good people.

Must be nice to live
comfortably in Miami.

I tried for ten years and lived
in mudholes.

But I was surrounded by
utter beauty. No shit.
What an entralling place.
It serenity sucks you in if
you ignore the traffic and
the wackos. And the urban
sprawl and the decimation
of the Everglades.

Can't ignore the cafe con leche.

Now there is some good stuff.
And the ropa vieja. And the
stone crabs. And the morros rice.
And tres leches. And the keys and
John Pennekamp State Park and the
associated key lime pie.

Enough.

Eating Out

sucks when you're
on a diet.

Everybody is snarfing
cheeseburgers and
french fries or pizza
or whatever.

Yesterday, I went to
McD's with my daughter.

You know what I had?

A salad with chicken.

IT SUCKED.

I got absolutely
no satisfaction from
that psuedo fast food
meal.

Salad has always
made me gag anyway.

Lately I eat one two times
a day.

It makes me want to spit.

All my life I've been able
to eat whatever I want
whenever I want.

Stop smoking and
everything changes.

I can't go back to smoking,
so I better get used to not
eating what I want when
I want.

I went to work today
at my new job.

Nice place. There
are several buildings
at the Cisco Campus.

The architecture is
quite sleek. Nice lines.
Lots of glass.

I'm Miffed

by these phone solicitors.

OK, so I was jumping around
trying to get my heart rate
up and keep it up so my
poundage will go down.

Sort of like what the
FOSSIL FUEL hoarders
should be doing
right now.

Put out more oil and the
price will go down.

ANYWAY..this chick
named Marsha calls and starts
the conversation out
like this, "May I speak
with Paige?"

"This is she."

That should be enough, right?

"This is Marsha and will you verify your address...blah de blah de blah?"

"If you tell me who you are and who you are with and what this

is about, I will verify my address."

"No, I cannot give you that information until I verify your address."

I hung up on Marsha.

This is the way this phone call should've gone.

"May I speak with Paige."

"This is she."

"Good morning, Paige. This is Marsha Blah Dee with Blah de Blah and

I'm calling concerning...blah de blah."

Obviously this was not a lucrative business phone call.

I don't think what was going on there was entirely forthright.

Scary.

Loblolly

Pines. Its Loblolly. Loblolly.

I went with my daughter
on a field trip to Clemmons
State Forest this morning. They
have an educational walking
trail.

The kids, the teachers
and the parents all hobbling along,
learning about trees and their
roles in the environment.

Today is Earth Day, you know.

Every 5o yards or so we would
all stop and the teacher would push
a button on post and we would hear
a prerecorded message about a
particular tree.

Do we live in the Pine Tree state?

Uh, yes.

"What is it called? Lalalolly?" a Mother asked.

"Lelolly?" another said.

"Balolly?" another said.

I thought, "what a bunch of ditzes."

I can be that way sometimes.

I murmured, "its loblolly."

"lobolly," the first Mother said.

"Its LOB LOLLY...LOBLOLLY."

"Oh, loblolly!" they chimed in unison.

We continued on our hike.

Lowe's

I went to Lowe's this weekend.
We're talking throngs of people
buying yard stuff.

They even had carts of plants
and flowers set up in the
parking lot.

I bought some pretty flowers
that I don't know the name of.

I planted them in containers,
except for three pots. I'm going
to plant them in the yard.

I am really bad at growing things.

Either I overwater them and drown
the poor things or I completely
forget about them until its
too late. Either way, deado.

My Daughter asked me this
morning what my favorite
TV channel was when I was
a little girl.

I said we only had three
channels.

"What channels?"
she asked.

"ABC, CBS and NBC"

What's that?"

She has never heard of
them.

"What was your favorite cartoon?"
she asked.

"Scooby Doo," I answered.

"Scooby Doo always freaks me out."

My stepson hit a girl at school yesterday.

His Mother didn't punish him.

WTF?

It's Late or Early

rather.

I drank a cup of Guatemalan
around 10:30pm and now
I'm all jacked up.

I laid down with husband.
He fell quickly.
I stared at the red light on the fire alarm.
And then I stared at the red light on the silent TV.
Then I watched the digital clock change to 12:27am.
Then I listened to the ice maker in the freezer
drop a couple of pieces of ice into the bin.
Then I listened to the whirring of the dishwasher.
Then I listened to my cat playing with one of his toys
in the kitchen.
Then I heard my daughter sigh in her sleep.

Night noises.

Then I whipped the bedsheets off me and climbed
out of bed.

I'm usually asleep in less the 5 minutes.

I don't usually have a cup of joe before bed.

I was sewing a sheer curtain for the long skinny
windows beside my front door.

I borrowed my Mom's sewing machine.

It took me an hour to figure it out.

She is on a 747 to Beijing right now.

I couldn't call her when the thing stumped me.

I doubt I will be able to sleep until she arrives
safely in China.

That's four hours from now.

All that and it really all comes down to my Mom.

I'm lucky to have a Mom.

Michael Jackson

is toast.
He is so done.

What is this I read
about Michael crying and
begging some poor kid's
Mother to let him sleep
with her son?

If I had an Adult Male,
I don't care who he is,
crying and pleading to
sleep with my son, I'd
bitch slap him upside
his head, call him nasty
names and RUN out of
there.

Anybody who is so out
of the loop as to have
a personal magician
for entertainment is
certifiably NUTS.

Frickin kook.

You know what? My Dad
wasn't so hands on. He was
a product of the 50's. So what?

I had to grow up faster
that most, but it didn't
turn me into a FREAK.

Michael is so going down.

Vanity Fair

had their very first writing
contest last year. They wanted
people to write a missive
on our American Character.

My curiousity was piqued so
I wrote an essay.

It mostly touched on how
misinformed and hugely
naive Americans
are about our country
and about the world in general.

Its not because we aren't a
literate nation, the lot of us are
very well read. Its because
what we read and hear is biased.

The ideas others form about us come from
a variety of biased media too.

So our perceived characters are SKEWED.

Now thats not what Vanity Fair wants people
to read about. They want to continue
the cycle of bullshit. Noone really
wants to read the truth anyway and
Vanity Fair knows it so they chose
a sugar coated, endearing essay.

Its very difficult for me to write
what people want to read. People
don't want to read about the real
world. They want fluff and bull malarkey
to cover up and mask how utterly boring
and uneventful their everyday lives
really are.

If I'm ever going to get
published then I need to
travel the road of fluff.

I guess I'll never get published.

Is My Face

about to fall off.
I went to the Dentist
this morning.

I had two cavities.
Two isnt so bad,
so I've had four in
my lifetime so far.

I despise the part where
you want to eat and drink
but your face is still all
numby and tingly feeling.

Im scared to eat because
my food may slide out of my
mouth onto my blouse.

But Im fricking starving.

I didn't eat breakfast cause
Dentists make me nervous.

Everything makes me nervous
though. I'll get nervous
about something in a skinny
minute, but it doesn't stop
me from doing things.

I face my nervousness head
on..and go through with whatever
it is..

a job interview
speaking in front of a large crowd
going to the dentist
scuba diving
being rejected a million times over by book publishers
major surgery
the step kids
driving car in very large unfamiliar metropolis
flying in tiny airplanes

Jees, what's next?

I hope it something that makes me nervous!

Another Familiar Envelope

landed in my mailbox
the other day.

It was a disgustingly thin
piece of mail, notthing weighty
about it and it was addressed
to me in my own handwriting.

Before I opened I knew it was
yet another rejection letter.

This was is from Farrar,
Strauss and Giroux.

SORRY.

Your writing sucks and
you don't have an agent
and you're a nobody.

Keep on writing, Paige.

Keep on..keep on..keep on!

So Many Things

have happened
since I last wrote.

The Pope died.
Maybe women will be
recognized for their
roles in society
by the next one.
Oh, papal one.

Terri died.
Rest in Peace.
Bless her soul.

I painted my bedroom
dreamsicle orange
and everything else
is chocolate brown.

Exciting trendy color combinations.

We visited the nation's capitol
for the weekend.

Kidville, whew.

The Museum of American History
was filled from top to bottom
with spring breakers.

Whooping it up literally.

Singing and yelling..being
teenagers.

No cherry blossoms peeking out yet.
I'm bummed I missed them.

Finally saw the WWII Memorial.

It spoke volumes to me. Tears.
I was moved.

Next time, I'll try and brave the
Holocaust Museum.

Bron loved the Metro.

Spring Break sped by super fast.