Muscle Relaxants

That's what the doctor, excuse me, nurse practitioner, gave me yesterday.

What for? Spasms. I've got muscles spasming in my neck, and have had them doing so for the last month. Yesterday was the worst day yet.

After the x-rays, he came back in and asked had I ever had surgery on my neck?

"Uh... no.?"

"Huh. How about your back? Have you ever had surgery on your back?"

"No. Why?"

"That's weird."

I got a little panicky... "Why? Why's that weird? What's wrong?"

He said he needed to check something,and left me there. Very strange. My neck is killing me, I've gone through about 500 Advil in the last four weeks, and now the person I'm seeing in the doctor's office has run out of the room.

Turns out, after he consulted with a real doctor, it appears I am one of the lucky few that have Klippel Feil Syndrome. Two of my vertebrae are fused together. It's not what is causing the muscle spasms in my neck, but it sure is interesting. Considering I'm 43 years old and have just learned about it, I'm not too worried.

So, I've been prescribed muscle relaxants, but can't take them during the day. They are working, when I take them, but school's been a bit of a challenge this past week.

Also, on a complete tangent? There's something in my computer room that smells like mildew, but I can't find it. We've had the driest summer imaginable, so for the life of me, I cannot fathom what it might be.

I'm getting punchy.

Amazingly, my camera took a fairly decent photo of the cool moon and clouds last night. All day today the clouds were looking strange and wonderful. If I was Torn, I'd know what kind of clouds they were, but I'm not, so I don't.

Pretty clouds.

That's what they were.

Tomorrow's the first day with the kiddies. For the last hour I've been working on an example poem I'm going to make the kids write. I forgot I needed to do it until...uh... an hour ago. But, I remembered, and it's all good.

It's based on this poem. The kids will read it, get paired up, interview each other, then write a poem about where their partner is from. Then, when it's finished, the two go up to the front of the room later this week, present their poems, I take their pictures and boom, I have decorations and interesting eye candy for back-to-school night.

And, I think it's going to be more interesting than the "Dear Ms. Teacher," letter that so many of them end up having to write.

Oh, and I got some more cards this year to give everyone in the department for the first day of school. Of course, I've only filled out one of them so far, so I better get to it if I want to get to bed at a normal time.

Wish me luck!

A respite

You know how you can be dog tired, but still want to go out? That's me.

Not going to happen though, since most of my friends are just as beat as me from this last week.

Due to all kinds of difficult circumstances, the English department at my school got... I have to say it... fucked this year.

Every single one of us has had our schedule changed from Tuesday to today. Most of us have had more than one schedule change.

"You're going to be teaching seventh grade honors."

"No wait, instead you'll be teaching a split schedule of seventh and eighth grade."

"Okay, we won't do that. Now we would like you to teach only eighth grade, but the ESL classes, and the gifted classes."

"Alright, here's another change. We'll move the classroom you're in to the old wood shop. You can share it with a history teacher. I know, it's messy, but you have at least three hours today to clear our the 30 years of stuff left behind."

Gah.

My schedule itself didn't change too much. However, we actually hired someone today. Yeah. It's such a long story, and I'm not sure I want to get into it here (you know, there are people who know me in real life that also know about this blog), but I was the one making copies and lesson plans and so on for this teacher that didn't even exist until today.

Oh, and in the middle of all this? I have a student teacher I'm supposed to be mentoring.

I'm going to be preoccupied for a while, so don't worry if I'm not posting too much. I'm still reading your blogs!

The Whirlwind

Well, my schedule keeps changing, we still need a teacher in our department, another one isn't sure if she's teaching English or P.E., and classes start Monday.

I'm tired.

And this getting up and getting to work thing? I'm already over it.

Heh.

Last Day of Freedom

Hmm...

I spent the morning at the walk-in clinic. I broke a glass in the kitchen a couple of days ago, and I guess I didn't clean it up enough, because last night I stepped on a tiny sliver of glass.

Trying to get it out with tweezers, I broke it off, and there was still a little piece in there, bugging me when I stepped on it.

I tried soaking it, tried to get it out with a needle (like my mother used to torture me with when I got a splinter as a kid), but to no avail.

So, yeah, I sheepishly went to the clinic. After an hour in the waiting room (still better than the August 29th appointment which was the first time my regular doctor could see me), I went in.

Do any of you know how painful it is to get a shot of Lidocaine in the bottom of your foot? "A little burning sensation" my ass. I could not believe how much it hurt. I actually screamed a little scream. I

I was so embarrassed.

But, she needed to do that so she could use her BLADE and carve out the glass. It was pretty embedded in there, and it wasn't such a little sliver.

Weird though, it was bleeding and rather open after she was done, but she just handed me a band-aid without any cleaning when she was finished. She had already told me to walk around on my foot to make sure she got all of the glass out, so there was blood on the flip flop (sorry Torn) I was wearing too.

Anyway, when I got home, there were two birthday cards for me. One from my NYC friend, with a beautiful pair of earrings tucked into it, and one from someone I had never heard of. At least I didn't recognize the return address or the handwriting.

As soon as I opened up the envelope though, I had a pretty good guess.

I keep all my birthday cards slipped into the blinds above my kitchen sink. Let's see if you can guess which card it was , and from whom I received it (Torn, you already know).

I was touched this person went to the trouble of sending it to me. You already know who you are; thank you!

I feel loved

Yesterday was my birthday party. My friend Katrina threw it for me, and she went over and above the call of duty. Lots of good food, and good friends, and laughs.

The fire cooperated, so not too much ash or smoke, but it sure was warm.

My sister bought a lovely three (THREE!) layer cake, with lemon frosting and raspberry filling between the layers, but it didn't take to the heat well:

The top layer slid off the other two into the side of the box. Those mashed up pink things at the bottom of the picture were roses. Cutting the cake was quite an accomplishment too, since all three layers kept sliding around. However, it was a delicious cake, and I'm not even going to think about how many points were in it.

My friend, Ms. Kitty gave me a bag full of odd and wonderful goodies. The best was the one I'm holding in the picture below:

Sweet Love disposable douche.

I don't know if you can really see the picture on the box, but the model looks to be about 12-years-old. Ew.

The instructions on the box are pretty funny too:

WHEN TO DOUCHE

The most obvious time is after menstruation. But you'll want to use it other times as well -- after nervous tension, to clean away contraceptive jellies or creams, after intercourse, to wash away built-up secretions that cause odor, or any time to feel clean and fresh.

Again, ew.

After "nervous tension?" What does that mean? Somehow I've gotten through my life never using a douche, but perhaps I have built-up secretions I didn't know about?

Oh, how we laughed. And so it went.

It was a good day.

A reason to get dressed in the morning

My friends, I'm still in my PJ's as I write this. I knew I was going to be inside most of the day, and I've been cleaning up and so on... so just haven't gotten around to a shower and real clothes.

I was washing the dishes, and Charlie starts barking at the door.

Dang it.

My friend Jack, another teacher from school, had come by with a card and a bottle of wine for my birthday. How sweet is that?

But of course, talking to him, I had to stand with my arms crossed over my chest because I wasn't wearing a bra and I was embarrassed. And, of course, we were standing outside in the ash and smoke because of my CHAOS that keeps me from having any guests actually inside my house.

I have to shower now.

The Fire That Wouldn't Stop

The picture below is from Tuesday afternoon.
Then the wind changed. Yesterday was bad, today is worse. Here's what it looks like from my driveway now.

I wish there was smell-o-vision through the blog, because the smoke is so overpowering. Yesterday they started issuing health warnings, and this morning everyone is being told to stay indoors and close up their windows. Which is all fine, except when it gets to be about 89 degrees in the afternoon, and almost no one has air conditioning.

It's not even like I can drive up or down the coast to get away from it, because this fire is so huge now, the smoke is in four different counties. Santa Barbara is 25 miles away from it; I can't imagine being closer.

The spiderwebs on the Juniper bushes are clogged with the ash. It's no longer the big fluttery bits, but a fine, dust-like coating on everything.

Tomorrow, a friend is throwing a birthday party for me at a nearby park. Maybe I should go pick up some of those paper masks?

Another indoor day for the Wonder Dog and myself.

I'm 43.

My birthday.

For the last few years or so, it's actually made me a bit sad. Or maybe I'm just getting my period.

Here's a rundown of the events today:

• Got up early, picked up my friend and went walking with the Wonder Dog on the beach for two hours.
• Washed the Wonder Dog, changed my clothes.
• Went to the Cuban-Brazilian dance class (where the regular teacher was absent; the class wasn't the same). Showered for the first time at the gym.
• Talked to my well-wishing friend from New York.
• Met two friends for lunch.
• Went to the bakery to buy myself a slice of whatever cake I wanted for my birthday.
• Left the bakery without buying anything. I'm not kicking my own ass exercising to blow it on cake.
• Went home, sewed a little stitch into my dress where it was gaping open and showing my girls to the world.
• Talked to another well-wishing friend from Seattle.
• Picked up my mother at 5 o'clock from her job.
• Went to dinner with mother at 5:15 (you know these old folks... they like to eat early).
• Came home.
• Checked my blog...realized nobody is interested in the songs on my Ipod.
• Wrote this post.

Nights like these are the ones that get to me. I don't have a group of friends to just hang with, to go out for a drink with. I don't have a significant other to surprise me with some little card on the dining room table.

Remember when your birthday meant a party and goody bags, and inviting Richard Thompson, the creepy kid down the street because your mother said it was bad manners to invite everyone else but him? Pin the tail on the donkey, and my mother's angel food cake which wasn't my favorite but was her specialty so we ate it anyway? Duck duck goose, and prizes and Pinatas.

Oh man, Pinatas. Remember those? (I don't know how to get the Tilda on the "n" in Pinata, so forgive me please.)

Being the one who broke the Pinata sucked because you were blindfolded. You were always a beat behind the other kids who could see the loot before you did when it was scattered on the floor. I would always fake at hitting the pinata when it was my turn.

One time, next door? At Jessie Goode's party? There was the usual requisite candy in the happy face-shaped Pinata, but also two round wooden tokens. If you got one of them, you won an extra prize.

Well, when Jimmy smashed it open, I threw my body down. I mean I covered every bit of the bounty of sweets on the patio floor. When I came up for air, I had about 80% of the sweet tarts and butterscotch disks... but more importantly, I had both of the tokens.

Mrs. Goode first shamed me for being greedy.

Then she made me give one of my tokens to Jimmy.

I wasn't always the most charming of young ladies.

Are you all over the meme now?

I was kind of surprised when most of the songs on my list weren't guessed.

Here's some more info about them:

1) This band is huge. Has been huge for pretty much as long as I've been alive. It's not one of their better known songs.

2) I love to sing along to this song. Think siblings, 40's and WWII.

3) She's from Ireland. I heard her sing this song first when I went to her concert in Japan. A fan sent the lyrics to her and she set it to music.

5) Country, country, country. Am I the only one who listens to it? I wore out this CD when I first got it.

6) I knew this would be hard. I have every album by this band, but their lyrics during their early years were completely indecipherable.

7) Oh gosh. He was my FAVORITE singer (okay, it was a tie between him and Rod Stewart, but still) in high school. I went with Torn to his concert just a few weeks before we broke up.

9) Mel Gibson movie? What Women Want? This was on the soundtrack.

10) Total California summer music. Mellow band that I thought was a single person because of the name.

12) A friend who reads but doesn't comment got this, except I'm thinking of the version I used to roller skate to at the rink in 1979. I always had to be on the floor when this song played.

13) The story about this? I was shopping at Macy's and this song came on (they play real music at our store). A woman near me started singing along to it at the top of her lungs. Thing was, she was amazing. It took me almost three months to figure out who it was by and what it was called.

14) Her name isn't spelled like it's pronounced. Graceful woman; her first album hit when I think she was only 19 years old.

15) The singer of this song died whilst beating off and simultaneously choking himself.

16) She's still alive, this singer. The most popular first dance song at weddings is probably one of hers.

17) This group is listed in my favorites. Very mellow, downer kind of group. Lead singer has a great voice.

I know, lazy again.

Here's a photo of the steam rising from the water drop on the Zaca fire which is still raging in the back country.

White smoke is good, brown or orange smoke? Bad.

We Waltzed Tonight

My dance class I mean.

Dancer man Mark was a no-show.

Ah well, easy come, easy go. I had a minimal thrill for the summer; always a good thing. Still, it's hard not to take it personally. I mean, he asks for my number, meets me and dances (the Tango!) with me for an hour, then quits the class.

I mean, he said he was going to take the next round of classes, so, other than finding me repellent, what could be his reason for not going?

I know, I know... lots of things.

Whatever. I'm sticking with the class now just because I like it. I didn't have to dance with Patchouli woman tonight, but I did dance with chest-staring Chester. Ew.

Seriously, there are so many characters in that class. It's fascinating. I could keep going just for the blog fodder (plus of course, since I bought the fancy dance shoes, I have to keep going).

Leaving the lyrics up for a bit longer. At least # 12 somebody should get. I'll add hints tomorrow if you'd like.

Oh, I had my first massage in 15 years this morning. Not bad. This place is a chain, Massage Envy, and I got suckered in to join. I pay $59 bucks a month, and get an hour massage. And, if I want to have more massages that particular month, they only cost $39 each.

I know, I know, oh Rebekah, save your money. Well, I'm not going out and buying lotion and candles and shoes (well, not too many shoes) anymore, and spending money on the gym and a trainer and even massages are all about my health. If I don't take care of myself, who will?

Besides, it sure was nice to have someone other than myself touch me. Even if I did have to pay for it.


Wait.



Now I feel dirty.

I just don't bounce back like I used to

Good thing I had this meme from Snooze ready and waiting from last week.

Here's the rules if you haven't seen them already"



1) Put your mp3 player or music player on your computer on random.
2)Post the first line(s) from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song.
3) Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from.
4) Strike out the songs when someone guesses correctly.
5) Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING.


1.
Well you bit my lip and drew first blood,
And warmed my cold, cold heart
And your wrote your name right on my back
Boy your nails were sharp

2.
Choo choo to Broadway foo Cincinnati
Don't get icky with the one two three
Life is just so fine on the solid side of the line, rip

3.
Its taste was sweet like summer wine
The heart that beats in double time.
So he waltzed right in, he bowled you over
You’re still reeling from the feeling when he’s gone

4.
Friday night you and your boys went out to eat
Then they hung out, but you came home around three.
If six of ya’ll went out, then four of you are really cheap.
Cause only two of you ate dinner; found your credit card receipt.
(Gayprof got this one, Whitney Houston's It's Not Right, But It's Okay. This was the remixed superstar edition.)

5.
I’ve climbed so many mountains just to reach the other side
I’ve neared drowned myself in freedom just to feed my foolish pride
In my journey through the darkness, I have finally seen the light
I know no one’s every loved me, like you’re loving me tonight.

6.
It's what I want hurry and buy
all has been tried follow reason and buy
Cannot shuffle in this heat it's all wrong
Try to put that on your sleeve it's all wrong it's all wrong

7.
The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.
Any fool can do it, there ain't nothing to it.
Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill.
But since we're on our way down, we might as well enjoy the ride.

8
Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong
You're enchained by your own sorrow
In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow
How I hate to see you like this
(Yes, it's Chiquita by Abba. You know, the first word of the song? heh.Devo guessed it.)

9.
I've got no chauffeur to chauffeur me
I've got no servant to serve my tea
But I'm as happy as a man can be
Because I've got a girl who loves nobody but me

10.
Drive west on Sunset to the sea
Turn that jungle music down
Just until we're out of town
This is no one night stand

11.
So call me a bitch in heat
And I’ll call you a liar
And we’ll throw stones until we’re dead
(Devo again got this. Throwing stones by Paula Cole. A good song when you're feeling bitter)

12.
I don't want to lose the good thing that I've got
If I do, I will surely, I will lose a lot
For your love is better than any love other I've known

13
Back when I had a little
I thought that I needed a lot
a little was overrated
but a lot was a little too complicated

14.
(Love is what the word was)
I saw a picture
How could you be so careless
How could you have done that to us

15.
You're driving all over town
In your big car
Windows down
Sweet perfume trails behind
The impression is in my mind

16.
Your dogs ain't found a good girl,
One that love you and give you warning
Now you find that you been misused,
Well how many girls can think all right

17.
I said, Mama, he's crazy and he scares me
But I want him by my side
though he's wild and he's bad
and sometimes just plain mad

18.
Guinnevere had green eyes
Like yours, mi'lady like yours
When she'd walk down
Through the garden
In the morning after it rained
(Em Rocks. Guinnevere by Crosby, Stills and Nash - before Young. This song reminds me of my brother. He didn't really sing, but spoke the lyrics along while he was listening.)


19.
Give me a kiss to build a dream on
And my imagination will thrive upon that kiss
Sweetheart, I ask no more than this
(Em got this one too. How come so many of my songs have the titles as the first line? Give Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On by Ray Charles)


20.
Them that's got shall get
Them that's not shall lose
So the Bible says
And it still is news
(Em got this first, although anyone who knew me in college would get this. I played Billie Holiday non-stop back then.)

Reunion Tonight

25 years.

I graduated from high school 25 years ago.

God I feel old. I have friends who weren't yet in kindergarten then.

Meeting one of my buddies for a pedicure in about an hour... then the drinking will start. I'm sure there'll be stories tomorrow; if I'm not too hungover.

Oh, and my camera? Took it in to the shop, and it worked fine.

Maybe pounding on it worked after all.

Running out of time

So yesterday I may have overdone it. I met with my trainer, who hides her masochistic tendencies under a sweet and peppy exterior.

I basically have no upper body strength. Flexibility, yes. Strength, no.

She got me to push through, but man... it hurt. I think that's the most important part of the trainer; she gets me to do things I wouldn't do on my own. Sloth is my general state, so if something is too hard, I normally just pass.

So then, I went and got my hair highlighted. It was a big deal, because I'd finally gone back to my true, mousy, light brown color over the last few months. There's a reason I've been coloring my hair since I was 14. I'm supposed to be a blonde, I know it. Now I'm back on my way. I'd take a picture of it, but I can't, because my frickin' camera is broken.

The dance class I've gone to on Saturdays at the other gym? The one my friends go to and bring me as a guest? The class that kicks my butt? I decided to go last night too. My hairstylist (who is also a good friend) said I'd mess up my just done hair, but I figured, who's going to see it except my dog? I went.

And it was too much. Yes, the class is hard, but last night? Oi vey. I think I nearly died. I just couldn't keep up. And would it kill them to actually turn on the fans? Sheesh.

The day before I went on a two-hour hike, then to the other dance class (Afro-Cuban-Brazilian something or another) I like at my gym. Made it to 20,000 steps on the pedometer.

Today? I'm relaxing. Doing the laundry, leisurely walking Charlie boy, maybe I'll even get a massage. Who knows?

Oh, and I'm going to either get my camera fixed or get a new one. See, I went to take a picture of my new dance shoes as per requested, and realized the camera wouldn't focus.

So, I guess you can sorta get an idea from this, but it really just gives me a headache. It fell off the table the other day, and I guess the auto focus is what ended up being injured. Torn suggested hitting it, "It worked for me!" but that didn't help.

I have a new camera in mind, but we'll see if the old one can be saved.

A repost of the video

Hopefully this time it'll work. I really do love this song.
(thanks St. Dicky, you were right)

alright now.

So I just deleted the video altogether, and everything is okay. Here's my question: When I am copying from youtube, do I paste the URL or the Embedded thing into my blog? I tried both yesterday and both were funky.

And dance class? I had to dance with a woman who smelled of Patchouli because dancer man Mark wasn't there.

Although, I must say, I'm getting better at it. Must be the new fancy shmancy dance shoes I bought.

Okay.

I don't know what the hell I just did. Somehow, by posting the youtube video, I combined yesterday's post with today's. And there's that weird extra box with the little red "X" in it.

St. Dickybird? I bet you'll know what I did wrong.

Dance class tonight

Last night I went to my first yoga class in about four years. I used to go every Monday and Thursday, and most Saturday mornings. The teacher was wonderful. He was calm, and didn't play stupid enya music or crickets chirping or anything like that. He kept the lights dim, and walked around checking and adjusting all the time.

I actually got so into it that I cried a couple times at the end of the hour and a half. I really loved it, and it made me feel physically strong. I believe it also helped me out of my depression (along with the chemicals my doctor prescribed).

Anyway, two things contributed to my lack of yoga practice; first, the instructor left for his own studio (one which I couldn't afford) and second, Charlie-boy came to live with me. I was gone all day at work, and couldn't see going out again at night for another chunk of time away from the little guy. I know, I know, but that's how it happened.

I stopped going to the gym all together, and the only exercise I got was from the walks my canine pal and I went on together.

But.

As you all know, I'm getting serious about this getting in shape business. I've put down a wad of cash for a trainer, I'm writing down every single thing that goes into my mouth (and stop with the innuendo... my tongue isn't tickling anything more interesting than a root beer-flavored Popsicle these days), and I'm trying to get in an hour of cardio five days a week.

Last night I went to a "flow yoga" class at my gym.

This morning I woke up in pain.

See, this class was not like my old class. For one, most of the time we were supposed to keep our eyes closed, and get in tune with our bodies. However, since I couldn't tell what we were doing, I had to keep looking at the teacher. The times we didn't have our eyes closed, we were looking down, or up or at our knees. The leader obviously knew her stuff, but on the instructing part? Not so good. Meanwhile, the florescent lights were blinding all of us, and the monrovian chant music with whale sounds (or whatever the hell she was playing) just distracted me.

No checking, no adjustments. Surprisingly, I'm pretty damn flexible, but the things she had us doing were insane. Not one of the people in the class could keep up with her.

It wasn't like she was showing off, it was more like she was just totally unaware of the group of us. Perhaps it's just not for me?

So this morning? Because I'm not in enough pain? I went and got my eyebrows and bikini line waxed. Not that I have a bikini for there to be a line, but you know what I mean. I actually had to tell her to stop from taking too much off. I may be old school, but that hair is there for a reason, thank you very much. No, I don't want it to look like a tarantula is coming out of my underwear, but please. I'm a woman, not a pre-pubescent girl.

The wind changed again

This was yesterday afternoon. Part of the smoke looks like thunderclouds, but to the right is the orange-y smoke from the day before. No ash yesterday.

So, I went to the hip-hop class again with my friend at the other gym. It kicked my butt. I had to wade through all the Fiesta stuff to get there yesterday morning because there was the Children's parade. Ick. Even where I normally park was closed off. Ah well. The endorphins kicked in anyway, and not only the wind, but my mood changed.

See, several of you have mentioned that I could, you know, invite Dancer Man Mark for a coffee myself. You're right, I could.

But I won't.

How come, you ask? Don't I know it's perfectly fine for a woman to ask a man out in this day and age? That for some men, it's actually a turn-on for the woman to make a move?

Yes, I know.

However.

Not in my world. Oh yes, I've asked out men before, been assertive, made the first move; it never goes well. Now, before you all start yelling at me, this is only my opinion on the whole idea. It's not published or anything, and you can feel welcome to disagree, but please don't yell at me.

Here goes:

Men who are interested enough in me, are going to ask me out. Period. If they are too shy, then it's not going to work. I send plenty of signals, so it's not like they have no idea if I will say yes or not. Confidence is one of the top three things that attract me to a man in the first place. Not arrogance mind you, confidence.

Also, the times when I have asked a man out, confusion has occurred. Does he pay? do I pay? who makes the next move? All that crap. It throws a man off his game. In addition, most straight men don't have much practice in turning down a woman politely. Which means either they laugh (yes, it's happened. "Oh, you were serious?") or they say yes even when they aren't interested because they don't know what else to do.

Okay, I know, the whole "If a woman asked me out, it'd be hot," I've heard from my men friends who like women. What they leave out is the rest of it: "... IF it's someone I'm already interested in."

And that goes back to my other two points. If he's already interested, he should be taking the chance and doing the asking. If he's not interested enough, my asking him out isn't going to change things.

Now, once things have been established (okay, I'm interested, he's interested) then it doesn 't matter. I'm not one to stand on tradition here. I also think it's lame for the man to always be expected to pay, to always determine where the relationship is headed. I don't sit around and wait for a call; if I want to talk to someone, I call him. None of this, "He called me on Tuesday, and it's only Thursday, so I can't call him until Sunday." Rules like that are stupid.

So, I'm trying to take the advice from several friends; go with the flow, enjoy the moment, and take things as they come. You know, all that foo-foo-la-la crap people tell you when you are perseverating on something you don't have any control over.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Fire still going on

The Zaca fire is still burning away. The new expected containment date is September 7th! That'll be more than two months this fires been eating up the back country.

Thursday night the wind changed, and yesterday there was more ash than ever. It looked like snow. It covered everything, and made it hard to breath.

Small, perfectly formed leaves would fall, and then crumble when I tried to pick them up. The fire is burning so fast and so hot, that they keep their shape until touched.

It's all over the yard, in little piles. I didn't work outside yesterday because of it.

All the shadows were strange and orange. I tried to take a picture of it, but my camera wasn't up to the task. It felt like dusk all day, even at two in the afternoon.

It's still not close by, but wow... the power of it all. The ash is now falling in four counties. Yesterday Ah-nold declared a state of emergency here.

I'm just glad it's not close by.

Sluglike

That's how I feel today. It's Fiesta in Santa Barbara, and I want nothing to do with it. It's a big excuse for tourists to get drunk and stupid, and not one, but two huge parades (which dear reader, I avoid like the plague).

Of course, it could be because I have no one with whom to attend the Old Spanish Days festivities.

Seriously, it must be getting time for me to get back to school (I can't believe I just said that). I'm spending far too much time alone in my head. Torn said I was "overanalyzing" the other day when I was talking about the dance partner dude. Well sheesh, overanalyzing is what I do. There could be a picture of me in the dictionary next to its entry.

My friend Katrina very sweetly decided to throw a Birthday barbecue for me in a couple of weeks. She sent out Evites a few days ago; there's more people declining than accepting so far. And of course, it's because my birthday is in August, the travel month. Everyone is going camping or traveling or to a wedding or a baby shower; I shouldn't feel bad about it, but I do. Then there's the folks who received the evite and haven't responded at all. Oh, I know, some are out of town or something, but not all of 'em. It makes me feel like they're waiting to see if something better will come along before they commit.

My nerd complex mixed with some people's lack of manners is getting me down. I mean really.

Back in the day of written invitations, I had a wine and cheese party. This was about 12-13 years ago. I sent out about fifteen invitations, to singles and couples, and asked people to RSVP. I needed to know how much wine and stuff to buy.

Only one person called me to say she wasn't coming.

And only four showed up.

That was a low point in my entertaining days.

Then, other times, you know, just a spur of the moment get together? Twenty people show up at my house. I don't know if it's the invitation that intimidates people or what? And now, all you have to do is check a box on-line. Yes, No or Maybe (like those letters I used to write to Kenny Mendoza in junior high; "Do you like me? Check one of these boxes").

Am I crazy to expect good manners from my friends?

And besides all that? Why hasn't dancer man Mark called me?

Just to end on a good note, here's a picture of Charlie boy actually looking at the camera. Gosh I love the little guy.

My Elbows Itch

I mean crazy itch. Like no-amount-of-scratching-helps itch.

Weird bumps and dry skin.

I've been putting heavy cream on them at night,and wearing cut off socks around them; last night I tried hydrocortisone cream.

Sheesh.

What the heck could it be?