Nomad No More!

Ah to be home again! No, I don't think I'm being overly dramatic; I just realized that I have not spenT the night in my home for a full week since the mid April. B/c of my second job, work, and the other travel stuff, I've been one wandering woman! So nice to finally unpack and know that I'll stay unpacked. And while I can lament about not being home, I will say that I wouldn't trade the experiences. Well, most of the time. :-) But ESPECIALLY this past weekend. The trip to Padre was awesome.

There is no greater feeling than walking across a sandy shore as the waves lap against your feet, on a sunny, breezy day, having a full cooler of beer on the beach and one of your nearest and dearest friends by your side. Our conversations drifted b/w the minutia of life, the sublime moments of living, what we wanted to happen to us when we die, and everything in between. I'm sure Jana is still wondering how that "Shut the fuck up!" line from Magnolia became an entire conversation. (Well, we can scratch our heads together.) J

Our days were quite simple: get up, make a good breakfast, get ready and head out for the beach. The first day we didn't get home from the beach until 7 pm, and off we went for naps, from which one of us almost never returned before lights out. The second day we did better; we were home and showered relatively early and were able to make a great Italian sausage dish w/penne pasta and Barefoot wine. Of course, having drank beer all day at the beach, we didn't actually kill that second bottle, but dammit, we did some damage. I brought no less than 74 bottles of beer to Padre, and am pleased to announce that we only left the bottled beer (glass) in my trunk for my returning trip home.

AND, no less than 3 people noticed that I AM darker! YES! The fight b/w SPF 45 and the sun was fought nobly and the good guys won! 1) Hey, I want to look nice, I'm not inviting cancer to my door; 2) Some of the non-Hispanics w/out centuries of genes to back us, did not fare so well. (Jana, you ever get cancer, I'll donate my skin-the hair will just be a "get well" gift.)

Rain, Rain GO AWAY!

Yesterday SUCKED! Busy/crazy/crappy day at work all day long. Around 3pm I'm washing my hands in the restroom, look in the mirror and see a huge flake of skin in my HAIR!!!! WTF!? I'm horrified and immediately think "LEPROSY!". No, just calm down…oh yeah, my sunburned scalp is peeling. Niiiiiccce. Next, one of the delivery dudes comes in and we start to chat about weekend plans. I tell him about Padre and he's all "Hey, I saw your car-you shouldn't go that far on your bent rim." Sighhhh.......

Remember how happy I was b/c I was finally getting a good handle on my debt? Remember how I projected that something would probably come up, but I had to ride out the contentment while it lasted? It lasted about 5 days. Two or so weeks ago I got a flat while driving to work. The car guys stated I needed new tires and two new wheels b/c two of mine are bent. One is REALLY bent, I just never noticed it. Anyway…how much do tires cost? Well, let me tell you…the car takes Pirelli tires. Just get cheaper ones, right?! Mom says she had tried that once and the size was off so the tires rubbed, it was a bumpy ride, plus they wore out much faster. So I'm getting Pirellis (I have NEVER owned designer clothes but my freakin' car needs designer tires.) These tires are $200 a piece. I need 4. The wheels for my car are $378 a piece-new. Just call a bunch of junkyards, right? Can't find mine. They're 17 inch, 17 spoke Tethys wheels. Austin, San Antonio, AND Corpus Christi cannot locate a used one. ONE, much less two. I'm driving about 21/2 hours to the beach in about 8 hours. On 2 bent rims. With two new tires (that's what I can afford so far) and two hope-they're-OK tires. In Memorial Day traffic. In the rain.

Ok, and this is the spoiled brat in me which thinks that yes, my Mom gave me the car but I just spent about $500 on wheels/rims on my old car right before she asked if I'd be willing to give my car to my cousin Ayla and take her car instead. Being an interim administrator, Mom has been driving that car all over the south central parts of Texas. I've had it for 5 months and now I'm paying for tires AGAIN! I wish they'd at least half it with me, but I don't want to say anything. My car, my tires, my responsibility. I guess I'll just have to start selling MY ass on street corners to get the funds. OR, what will likely happen, I'll have to charge $1,500 to get all this crap done, which is a little less than the amount I had just busted my ass at the IRS to pay off.

So all this is going around in my head as I drive home after work. It feels like "A Raisin in the Sun". Just when things look a little better, some shit has to knock you down. I arrive home and am trying to get inside of my house and, as usual, I'm having to say "No kitty, you can't come inside! You live OUTside!" and blocking the door w/my foot, while still trying to usher in my skittish poodle. I was focusing on the key in the door when I suddenly felt a sharp, needle-like pain in my right baby toe. THE CAT BIT ME! WTF!? I feed her, I pet her (sometimes), I let her come inside when it's raining, I've given her a blanket and food on my upstairs patio- just in case she gets freaked out by the coyotes, and THIS is what she does? I was shocked (and appalled)! I involuntarily screeched (I'm not used to being bitten by 4 legged animals!), scared the cat away, and hastily retreated into my home. My sanctuary.

Once I was home, things got better. I cracked open a beer and started to pack for the weekend while listening to Beastie Boys, Vandals, Modest Mouse (Float On patched my soul last night), and other various "Fuck it" kind of songs. Three beers later I'm done packing and on to making CDs for my trip today, singing at the top of my lungs and dancing around like an idiot. So let me recant my previous post when I say that faux, beer-induced, hazy happiness is the way to go! I shall experiment further with my colleague Jana this weekend. I'm sure a publishing of our findings will be forthcoming.

Casado y Cansado

I had a really good time. I mean, the travel part sucked only b/c of the airport, but the drive to Nathrop and back was gorgeous. I'm really excited to visit the newlyweds in Alamoso sometime b/c I'll confess to having a massive crush on Colorado right now. The wedding was nice, a good mixture of tradition and whimsy; the bride wore white flip flops and their dog served as "flower girl". Yet it was romantic and beautiful. As I was trying to navigate my way to the meadow in my wedges, basically trying to get down a rocky, hilly path in heels, and cursing Leslie and her stupid romantic sensibilities, I slowly started to see the bridge over the babbling brook, which was encircled by the majestic beauty of Mt. Princeton. It all came to rest on the lush green lawn with tiny yellow flowers dotting the meadow. It was scenic, to say the least.

I do have to make a major confession here: this was the first wedding I have ever cried at. And when I say "cry" I'm not talking about the groom's mother who periodically dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, I'm talking tears running down my face and me not wanting to wipe them away lest those sitting in rows in front of and behind me figure out that I was crying. Yup…I cried like a little bitch. I couldn't help it! The reasons were twofold:

1. Leslie's mom died about 2+ years ago. I grew up in their house, and when her mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Les moved back to Texas and roomed downstairs in my home so that she could take care of her mom and family. We, along with many of her other close friends, watched Ms. Cramblet deteriorate and pass away. Every time they mentioned Ms. Cramblet during the ceremony, it hurt like she had died yesterday, and when a poem of hers was read aloud, it was really difficult to keep it together.
2. I HATE TO SEE MY FRIENDS CRY! I could look at Leslie's eyes and KNOW she was about to lose it, and I just couldn't stand it! When I care about someone and I see that they're in pain, it just makes me want to take it away, so while this may sound nutty, I kinda felt like I was crying for Leslie so that she could keep her shit together, which she did, up until walking down the aisle, at which time I could finally wipe my eyes and collect myself.

The first day there I met Leslie and Luis (bride & groom) who were sunning outside. We sat between the pools (there are two, one heated to a pansy-ass 90 degrees, and the other heated to 100 degrees), and a pretty fast stream of water that came off the mountain. It was a very chill time, with various characters from Leslie & Luis's past wandering in and out. It was really nice to see people I hadn't seen in years, especially the ones I had remembered from her undergrad yrs. at Southwestern. Everyone was telling me how much worse the sun was going to affect me because we were so much closer to it, plus the cool wind made you forget the fact that you were baking. 5 hours, two 12-packs (we were all sharing!), and at least another liter of water later, I'm buzzed yet none the browner. Meanwhile, just about every gringo in the joint is lamenting about their sunburns. Cant' get a break here, can I?

Technically, high altitude is classified as 8.000 ft. above sea level, and we were at 7,965 ft. but I drank plenty of water, so the fact that I had come from San Antonio, which sits at 512 ft. above sea level, and didn't feel a marked difference while boozin' it up must be due to the fact that I am one tough broad. Ha ha! I sometimes felt a little blechey, but that could have had to do w/the fact that my travel began w/me waking up Friday at 4am, l then gained an hour (felt a little "out of it" like during the time change), and am quite certain that while the visiting Brazilians working at the hotel are great to look at, one of them is placing small amounts of ecoli in the water to make everyone just sick enough to not quite enjoy themselves. No really, I wasn't the only one.

Things I anticipated that never came to pass:
-High altitude sickness
-Terrifyingly cold weather
-Getting lost on way from Denver International (largest airport in U.S.) to Nathrop, a town about 3 hours away from Denver which (as near as I could tell) consists only of one single road sign.
-The same amount of alcohol at sea level will get you a whole lot more dunk at high altitudes

Things I didn't anticipate which DID come to pass:
-My scalp can get sunburned, though I have no idea how to put sunscreen UNDER my hair.
-Meeting someone who looks almost exactly like Magnum P.I.
-Bud Light in Colorado only has something like 3.7% alcohol as opposed to Texas Bud Light which has more like 6.3%.
-Leslie's PhD buds from NAU are pretty much all a bunch of humorless ass clowns who like to think their academic credentials somehow makes up for the fact that they're pretentious assholes.
-I have a low tolerance for assholes. (well…I guess I already knew that-wrong list.)
-You can only check your bags at Frontier Airlines 3.5 hrs before your flight begins to board, so if you check out of your hotel at noon, and think that knocking around the largest airport in the U.S. would be less of a hassle than using a lot of gas* in your rental car while exploring Denver before your 8:50 pm flight leaves, you'd be WRONG. Instead, you'll end up sitting on your luggage for hours right in front of the check-in counter, like a hen waiting for an egg to hatch.
-Makers of white cheddar popcorn should include plastic food-handlers gloves in each bag b/c after 3-4 handfuls, you've given yourself "stinky-cheese hand" the likes of which you cannot get rid of, no matter how much you wash your hands or apply lotion.
-Carting your luggage to the bathroom nearest to the Frontier Check-In Counter in the largest airport in the U.S. to try to get rid of "stinky-cheese hand" is not fun. At all.

I also got to spend some time with some folks from Seguin that I had gone to high school with. It is a bit strange that it took many hours of travel for us to get together when we all live about 6 minutes from one another, but I guess that's just how it goes. Growing up is just silly that way. And thankfully I'm safe and back home, snuggling w/Rootie and not wanting to do the dishes. Just as it should be. :-)

*gas was $3.49 per gallon in Denver.

Trying NOT to Take the "Whee" Out of Wedding

Whatta week! I've come to work with a hangover more days than not, but nothing tops Monday; it was awful! I actually took a nap in the women's restroom on one of those cots you find in nurses offices at high schools. (And was I ever in love with that cot on Monday.) But I got to hang out with a former Seguinie Weenie, and we drank a bunch of beer in Austin. I kinda feel bad b/c this guy, Adrian, is really into working out and eating right; he's OK w/the beer part. At some point I realize I have GOT to eat something, so I order a veggie pizza, which he won't touch. Then I bring on the big guns: queso! If there's a person who can resist queso, I haven't met them! Anyway, thanks to Adrian for the laughs, and my apologies for all the extra calories. When you win your marathon and/or triathlon, you can wear a sign that says "No thanks to Aimee" :-)

I'm off to Colorado for the weekend to attend a wedding. I have to admit that I'm not very excited about the trip. Hear me out! I've been traveling a lot in the past 2 months, and away from my house in general. Flying to Denver, then driving 3 hrs. to Mt. Princeton Resort, and doing the same thing 2 days later just isn't sounding appealing. Well…actually, just typing that now did give me a little thrill. I'm sure it'll be fun; Colorado is beautiful and I'm always down for an adventure. Plus, I'm the boss of me this weekend-no need to confer w/any travel buddies (yes Katie, this means YOU!). Ha ha!

I guess the truth of the matter is that I'm just not into weddings. I've only had a good time at one wedding (1), and most of Leslie's friends remind of the mean girls from junior high. But Leslie and I have been through a lot; I can't help but think of our playing the "wedding game" at the tender age of 14. We'd lock ourselves in her closet (so our deepest hopes and desires wouldn't see the light of day, lest they escape forever) and planned our weddings. I believe either Bell Biv Devoe or New Kids on the Block was going to play the reception at her wedding, and I wanted Guns N' Roses for mine. Our dresses were going to be outlandishly poofy, and our trains would rival Princess Di's. I'm sure we were going to marry one of the Coreys, or some of the "too kool for skool" losers that went to school with us. Larry Lewis, John Heil, or yes….you guessed it: Clayton Salmon. So now it's 2007 and Leslie probably could afford to have Bell Biv Devoe at her reception, so I am committed to seeing how it all turns out: the Wedding Game Finale.

Something I am looking forward to is next weekend in Padre! If ONE MORE person asks me if I'm Mexicana…..!! Happened again yesterday! I KNOW! I NEED A TAN! Geez…. Originally I asked my friend Eric if he wanted to join me in Padre, but we haven't been able to connect, which is a shame b/c I always have a fun time with him. I hope that it still comes to pass, but plan B is Jana coming in for some R&R, and plan C is me, Jana, and Eric getting drunk and fishing off the back porch, 'cause there are plenty of beds to go around, and plan D (my least favorite of them all) is me and Rootimer rockin' Padre on our own. As long as I stop getting asked if my parents are both Hispanic, which they ARE, I'll be doing all right.

And hey, if the plane goes down, or I drive too fast in Denver: Rootie goes to Grandma, the house goes to my Dad, and Ayla gets the rest to pay for college (b/c I know my brother can more than provide for my nephews). Katie, you can have my stapler. :-)

Life Is Good

Wow. I have a new chair! I'M BACK!!!

Well, at about 80%, but we've got to celebrate the small milestones to really appreciate those long term goals. What the hell am I talking about? ME! (what else, it's my blog, right?). At the end of last week I went to Best Buy and purchased a couple of movies and some disk sets, most notably Dave Chapelle seasons 1 & 2, and some seasons of the Simpsons, and this weekend I went to Wal Mart and bought a new office chair for my home. YES! These complete me!

No really! Let's go back for a moment: When my ex left, I knew my life was about to drastically change. I had never been in my house by myself, and had never truly carried that burden financially; he had always helped. Stuff like utilities and credit card payments were shared b/c he basically lived in Seguin, and all credit card charges were due to entertainment endeavors we both shared. When I was left with all that, I was scared out of my freakin' mind! Losing my best friend…sure sure, I'm made of stronger stuff, but creditors don't mess around! No amount of beer in the world makes you feel better about the fact that you can't pay your bills. Well, not in the long run, anyway. J

So this morning after I went grocery shopping I came home, put together my chair and realized most all semblances of my former life (most all the bad stuff) are now gone. The chair was the clincher; each time I sat down to my home computer I had to deal w/ a chair my ex broke (how many times did I tell him that unless you're under 10 and weigh 80 lbs or less, you can't sit back, Indian-style in a freakin' office chair?!?!) but this was so far down on the "to buy" list, I just dealt with it. Saturday, after I put it together, it dawned on me that chair is actually the beginning. My new bed has only ever been slept on by myself and Rootie (OK, sometimes the cat when I'm drunk), and in the past 10 days or so I've been able to get my lawn mowed, purchase DVDs to watch when I get home and want to unwind (the ex had taken all but 8 from my previous collection), I got haircuts for Rootie & myself, and shortly I'll have my exercise/guest room back (no disrespect to my roomie-she is awesome and I actually find myself missing her.) But I'm getting there!

All the crap I have struggled to either forget I need to do b/c I was too strapped to do them, or have had to charge to get done (going the wrong way when you're trying to get rid of debt), are now being paid for by yours truly, free and clear! I've paid my bills this month from current earnings, and will continue to trim the fat from my debt, and my ass (availability of exercise room could not have come at a better time), which are now all that's on the agenda. Sure my car will probably break, my A.C. may go on the fritz…I mean, I realize that I'm hardly set for life at this point, but it just all feels really good right now. And to my friends who read through all the bone-headed dumb assery I somehow manage to involve myself with, I want to share the good stuff too. Of course, that stuff isn't so interesting, huh? OK, here's one for the gipper:

Friday after work, I got flipped off by some blonde-haired, frat daddied little bitch at a gas station. I was at the corner store that sells the gas for at least 2 cents cheaper than what they advertise, and what they advertise is typically the cheapest around. So as you can well imagine, the place is always packed. There are only 4 pumps and usually at least 7-8 cars trying to get gas. So this kid (24-27) is at the pump and I'm waiting behind him. I notice that we drive exactly the same car-same color- everything. I'm checking out my new Simpsons DVD and look up to find that despite how busy the gas station is, he's not pumping gas. This tool is cleaning out receipts from his wallet while standing by the pump. So he's that kind of jerk; the moment he realizes he's got any little upper hand, or position of power over another, he automatically wields it. "Wut, you guys want gas? Well I'm here now, fuckers, so deal". One of THOSE guys.

But it gets better. He finally engages the pump and begins to fuel his car, and immediately decides to strip. Yes, I typed that correctly. First he loosens his tie, then he takes it off and puts it in his car. Next he slowly unbuttons his shirt, does the untuck, and reveals a wife-beater underneath, and his standard-issue tribal tattoo around his doughy right bicep. Yup, this guy is the very definition of classy. He may have rolled up in a Volvo, suit and tie, but he's all kinds of tough guy. I'm trying my best to busy myself w/crap in my own car, b/c you really can't encourage this kind of behavior. And nothing makes a guy more unattractive than a shitty attitude, as if I was into pasty, blonde, spoiled frat dads to begin with.

When he's ready to go he honks his horn. ?? This guy has about 3 feet behind him and 2 feet in front of him, which, having the exact same car this guy has, I know he can maneuver out of there. I back up another foot (that's now 6 FEET!), but I guess ingesting large amounts of semen causes some kind of depth perception problem b/c this guy STILL thinks he needs more room. He's in reverse but now stopped and honks again. I stupidly try to help him by telling him he has plenty of room to back up, (the old "come here" and/or "you have more room to back up" hand gesture.) For some reason Cochise thinks I want him to back his car into mine, and instead of backing up further, raises his left arm straight out of the window and shoots me the 80's bird (y'know, with the surrounding fingers at half mast); he then speeds away.

See. Told you you had enough room to get out. J

And William B. Leeds…I'm sorry that your parents didn't instill you with enough pride and sense to not act like a total asshole for no good reason, but at some point you should learn to take your credit card receipt with you when you choose to make obscene gestures at the person who is next in line to get gas. You got lucky this time though, because thankfully my parents did do a good job, so from one Volvo owner to another: Have a nice life.

Vodka Death Wishes, and Clayton Salmon Dreams

Dreamt about Clayton Salmon again. What is WITH me? Is it normal to have a crush since the second grade and STILL dream about someone? Geez… And it was one of those "Dammit I really wish the dream was real life and I hate the fact that I have to wake up." dreams. It's just pathetic that I only "knew" him from 2nd grade to 6th grade, and he moved away. THEN, in 2001 I saw him at the Bocktoberfest (before it got all commercial & shitty), but I was so drunk I don't remember what conspired. From my recollections, which could admittedly be skewed as I'm sure my brain would try to protect me and bury any inappropriate behavior, but I went up to him and said "Hey, I knew you at Mary B. Erskine elementary!" and we shook hands, but he was actually finishing up his conversation w/someone else, so he hadn't given me his full attention yet. I try to walk away but he wouldn't let go of my hand; he was keeping me there until he could end his conversation w/ la otra. I then realized I needed another beer, so I somehow (and for some STUPID, chickenshit reason!) got from his grasp and stood in the beer line. That's all I remember, and I pray that's all that transpired. A missed opportunity would be just that, whereas an occasion to be a jerk or otherwise make an ass of myself to my biggest crush EVER is something I'd rather not bear.

Anyway, my dream: At a school as a student when I see Clayton. I realize that I'm no longer that scared person who won't say hello for fear of rejection. I make a rather droll quip at the right time, and get his attention. W/in 15 minutes we're watching a movie in class and he's holding my hand. A-yup. That was my wonderful dream that I didn't want to wake up from. I don't know exactly what this means, but I hope I have the dream again tonight. For all I know he turned out to be a wife-beater, deadbeat dad or even worse…a cop, but in my dreams he's my hand-holding knight in shining armor. (I'm down w/the simple things, what can I say?)

Some clarifications:
Mystery Shopper-
On the day I thought my purse had been purloined, I was on my way to buy my coworker Katie a b-day cake. Since that fell through, and we were taking her out to lunch that Friday, I decided to just wait until Friday to get cake. I didn't want to "spill the beans" before then. THAT was the "mystery" reason I was going to the store that morning. (Not for a pregnancy test, fungus cream, or any other "dirty" secret, though I'm sorry the reason is not more scandalous.)

Bloody Aimee-
During my stint as an invalid, I had occasion to watch a series of movies, which I had shared. The order in which I watched these movies should have been better thought out. I watched Fight Club, which got me all jazzed up, feeling anarchist, and wanting to get into chingasos with someone- anyone- even if I lost. Then I saw Seven, which again affirmed that a sinister streak runs throughout humanity and is an inescapable product of being born, and THEN I watched Big Lebowski. Now, I don't know about you guys, but I succumb to the power of suggestion. When I see someone drinking white Russians over and over again, dammit, I WANT ONE TOO! So, that's what I did. During Big Lebowski, I also began to give myself a pedicure. Being that I was in the process of imbibing vodka and distracted by a movie, I accidentally cut myself. The blood was mesmerizing.

Now, this part is sketchy, and yes, quite weird. I had high school flashbacks of when I used to cut myself. Why did I used to cut myself? I dunno…stupid hormonal, goth, angst-ridden immaturity. Nothing serious, it was always hidden, and it stopped after my first year of college. Why I felt the need to relive the experience last week? I attribute it to alcohol (I told you guys, I just don't like liquor! Beer = happy Aimee. Liquor = Scenes from Blind Date and other scariness.), ibuprofen, Tylenol Cold, antibiotics, and the aforementioned themes of dark ideas and bloodshed. What I came up with? I'm now wearing make-up on my legs, and foolishly recounting what an idiot I am. Perhaps this penance will serve me the next time I get fascinated w/my platelets.

To finish on a good note I will say that my IRS job is officially over next weekend. Then off to Leslie's wedding in Colorado, a quick trip to Padre for Memorial Day weekend (long story), and hopefully down to Mexico w/my friend Adlai in early June. Liver, don't fail me now!