A Week of Disappointments

It started off well enough. We put an offer in on a house that was exactly what we were looking for and exactly in our price range. But as the days and hours went on after the offer was put in it was clear that we were not going to be able to get financing. Not because of us necessarily, though we do have a year old bankruptcy and a low income in CA which makes it difficult, but because the house is a manufactured house. Lenders translate that into 'mobile home' no matter what the reality on the ground is. No matter that it was built to be a permanent home. No matter that it never had wheels, was never meant to have wheels and was considered real property (not personal property like a mobile home or your car) ever, ever, ever. It was called a manufactured home by the realtor and try as I might to get him to call it prefab, so that we could get the lender to lend us the bloody money!, he wouldn't. Apparently this is such a new phenomena that no one is really clear on what they are.

So, our offer died on the vine.

Then I was really excited by being able to edit and transfer to tape my audition tape for KCET's new digital channel they are starting out here in the desert and looking for hosts. I got it out by Wednesday in FedEx which means they got it by midday Thursday. A short, snappy 3 minutes along with my considerable resume. But by Friday there was no response, which means, they were not enthused.

My attempts to find some sort of full-time employment or additional parttime employment making more than $12.00 an hour have so far come to naught. Despite my considerable experience and education I am apparently not worth more than $12.00 to anyone out here. My talents are either not apparent or not necessary and I feel like I am being wasted. Needless to say fulltime employment at $12.00 is not enough to pay for the babysitting it would require to look after my children while I am at work. I asked my boss for a raise this year which would have somewhat ameliorated the financial squeeze we constantly feel but he said 'no'. He said no. What a way to make an employee feel valuable.

And after two poo poo poos in the pants and one pee pee pee accident by S.O.v.1 yesterday, we had another today. As I was changing his pants and underwear I just began to sob. The fact that he would rather pee in his pants than tell me he needs to go just tells me that I have failed somewhere. Its not like he doesn't know what to do and he does tell his babysitter, but he won't tell me or S.O. and of course everytime I ask him he says 'no'. And to get him to go anyway is always a fight. I feel like I have just screwed something up and I feel like such a failure.

It has been a week of disappointments.

Very Proud

Very proud of S.O. who yesterday was playing cook and chief baby-washer. Kids were happy and clean when I got home and for that I am thankful. Was at work late working on my piece for audition... Gosh, it is nice to have a wife. I think everyone should have one. At least sometimes!

Getting up and about after a bad flu is a bit like walking on someone else's legs. After being in that semi-conscious neverland of flu bug when you finally realize you are on the mend you wake up in what, at first, seems like someone else's body altogether. I always can tell when I am coming to the end of a flu because in the middle of the night my body wants to move, not lay still any longer. I know it sounds innane but I am just grateful to be able to do housework today.

In the midst of this flu bug S.O. and I had decided to make an offer on a house. Well, come to find out we may not even be able to find a lender. Not because of our credit or income mind you but because the house is affordable. It is what they are calling a manufactured house. Now, let's get this straight. A manufactured house is not necessarily a mobile home though a mobile home is necessarily a manufactured home. A prefab home has come to mean modern architecture in an off site built, on site assembled home. Not all manufactured homes are considered prefab, but all prefabs are essentially manufactured homes with a hipper name absconded from the industry by hipster architects and enthusiasts. Are you following me?

See, building a house from scratch on the lot where it is meant to live has become very expensive. So, whaalaa, manufactured homes, which are built in pieces in a factory. The pieces are then shipped and assembled at the site and on the foundation where they will live. They are never ever meant to be mobile or in any way impermanent. They are meant to be affordable. And if you look at it logically they might even be better. Because they are built in a factory, enclosed from the elements they will never get rained on or damaged. Because they are built to specific specs on an assembly line, just like, say, your car is, they are built more accurately because the guy who installs the joists does the same thing all day long. Now in a stick built house you have a crew who do different tasks from day to day with varying degrees of expertise and experience. And stick built houses are subject to fudges on site. Someone cut a 2x4 2 inches too short? Oh well, fudge it to save on costs. Manufactured homes cost less because there is less waste because it is a production line not a craft, which essentially building a stick built house is. I mean love 'crafts' all you want, sure that little dent in the vase you bought at the craft fair is charming but the one you got from Ikea that came off the assembly line is more accurate. Is it charming when your doors don't close properly or your house 'settles' in an odd way because of that fudge on site? Not.

And since manufactured homes are built to withstand the many miles they must travel on the back of a truck they are sturdier by design.

So, does the mortgage industry keep up with any of this? Well, why should they! You wouldn't want actual working class people to be able to get into homes of their own would ya? Yuck! How awful would that be? Home ownership by people making less than 100K a year! How unseemly.

OK. To be fair, I am being dramatic and bitter. Apparently with the upturn in interest rates and the foreclosure rates now at, I read this morning, 9% (yikes!) lenders are shying away from what they call risky loans. Which are apparently to people in CA trying to find affordable houses. I am bitter, no doubt. But I am not beaten. I will find a way to buy a house damnit. It may not be the one we picked but I certainly am not going to settle for a 1957 stick built house that hasn't been kept up and is going for $100k more than its worth! Ironically, we could find a lender willing to give us even more for a house that has been so ill-repaired and looked after it should by all rights be torn down! Go figure... how is that not risky?

Medical insurance snafus - some resolved, some still a bitch.

Writing stalled due to illness and house hunting.

House hunting - initially successful but financing stalled. Damnit!

Illness - blows in the worst possible way. Uck.

Maaaaaaaaan....

So, the whole insurance/medical provider thing is a whole big, honkin' pain in the ass. But of course I am sure you all know this. It's a big 'accidentally on purpose' scam. Lots of times it runs smoothly, your medical provider bills your insurance, they pay whatever amount they pay and you are off the hook for the rest (if that is the way your insurance works, like ours, if not, I'm so sorry). But then sometimes they "oops" bill something incorrectly, with the wrong billing code and oh my oh my you owe us $10,000 and if you don't pay by tomorrow, we're real, real sorry but we are gonna have to notify the credit bureaus.

UGH! And UGH again. I get a headache each and every time I have to deal with this f*&^%(& s(*#. It is never easy. And they always seem to blame the other guy. "Have them call us" and of course they never do. These people don't communicate with each other except by fax and code and sometimes it requires a phone call. But inevitably I will get one of them on the phone and they will say "It's not our job to call them. Have them call us. And no, we can't take your word for it. Yes, I am sure they told you that exact thing but we have to hear it from them." And then we wonder why people lose it and go shooting up office parks?!?!? They probably just got off the phone with their insurance company and their doctor's billing department.

But that's just my beef for the day. That and being thrown up on several times in the last 24 hours. But then that's just parenthood.

So, we were experiencing more Non-Specific Fuss last night - you know pushing, not playing well, poking, prodding, generally pestering - and so I made the hard call of "no more cartoons". It is our routine to replay our DVR selections at night so that Momma can get dinner ready without much interruption (I know, I know, TV is bad, blah, blah, blah. But show me a momma who doesn't use television to placate her little ones and I will show you one stressed out momma!). When the fuss gets out of hand, no more TV (now see, if you don't have TV where's your leverage, huh?).

S.O.v.1 and S.O.v.2 were now calm-er while eating the macaroni and cheese with hot dogs momma prepared (hey, I'm not proud of it, but there it is... at least there were fresh green beans too) and just to really send home the message how awful life without cartoons can be, I let the State of the Union address play in the background.

Neither are paying much attention and we are talking nice, like a good little family when S.O.v.2 looks over to the TV. Just then they cut to a shot of Lynn Cheney. S.O.v.2 pointed a finger at the TV and said "UH OH!".....

Good girl. So wise, at only 21 months.

Non-Specific Fuss

This is an ailment my youngest, SOv.2 (Significant Other, version 2) is suffering from as of late. And you know, I was finding it irritating until I was sitting here at my desk reading, no, not what I am supposed to be reading, but of all things Backstage West - as if it will do me any bloody good in exile here in the desert - as if it did me any good when I lived in Hollywood. I'm reading it and enjoying it because it is all about my first love, acting. There will be nothing more fulfilling that I ever do for a living, I am certain, than acting. And since it is an endeavor one can't do alone (well I guess you could but people would think you insane) and if you can't get others to do it with you or let you play too, then you have nothing but the emptiness, the malaise that is the absence of fulfillment - thus, non-specific fuss. Non-specific not because the origin is unknown but because the remedy is.

I realized that SOv.2 is suffering from same. See, her first love is, well, how to put this, booby. The gal loves to nurse and would nurse all day long if I let them all hang out. But as she is 20 months old it is now time for some serious weaning because, well, Daddy wants his boobies back and Mommy is tired of it all, the biting, the sucking, the laying around waiting for marathon nurser to be done. Try as I might to not begrudge her I am just ready to be done! And funny enough, if I had another little SO I would willingly do it all over again. But as 2 years old looms I feel that she and I will both be better off without it. I worry about dependency issues. Just as with my acting, she has to learn to carry on in life and be happy without it. She may never get to suck on a booby again, I may never get to act in a play again, but we both have to learn to go on.

I suppose the non-specific fuss which I suffer from at times as much as she, is a way of lamenting the loss of the first love. And since we both suffer from it, the boys will just have to learn to live with us or ignore us when a bout of NSF arrives.

I'm Published!

Well, not so much more as if you could say writing a blog is publishing... but it is on a blog not my own! Does that count?...

http://www.first30days.com/ReadWisdom.do?w=204

Besides the, embarassing, typo in the title I am fairly proud of this small article.

The Dream Is Dead... Or At Least In A Coma

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8502784/

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9078444/from/RL.5/

I had an email exchange with a, probably, incompetant real estate agent when I inquired about a 3 bedroom home for sale in a price range that was possible for us. Of course, it was in a 55+ community - why do only old people get to buy houses anymore! - and so we could not buy it. But he sent me several other listings of totally unworkable houses at totally outrageous prices even though I clearly stated we had two children and a low-ish income. But no, he didn't get it. So, I wrote a lengthy email to him reminding of said situation and railing against the outrageous housing market. His reply was to say that this market, in the Coachella Valley, was not as bad as other parts of California and he hoped our situation changed for the better!!! As if having a low income was a lifestyle choice or something. Patronizing *(&#)&*%^^&%!

But it's not just the home buying market that is out of control. It is also the home renting market! The rents here are like LA except without the job opportunity, culture, nightlife and activity. Jeez! It's like some landlords think their homes are too precious to rent, so they stay on the rental market month after month after month. I know, I've been looking at the listings for months! But will they come down to get a tenant? Noooooooooooooowwwwwaaaaaayyyy! "We aren't ready to lose money on the property" one woman told me in regards to her outrageously prices 2 bedroom condo. Not yet? Aren't you losing money already? In two months you have lost more money than what you would have lost in a year renting to me. But does anyone possibly think the problem might not been in the fact that renters and potential buyers don't have enough money to throw at the market but that the BLOODY PRICES ARE TOO HIGH!?

Not only can we not afford to buy a house but we can't even afford to rent the house that we can't afford to buy which doesn't make any sense. See, if we could afford that much for rent to pay you, lady, we'd just buy the damn thing! The paradigm has gotten inverted. You are supposed to be able to save money by buying a house! We, stupidly it turns out, thought we might be able to buy out here, since we have to be in exhile, might as well. But no dice, man.

And on top of that lousy irritation wages are stagnant. Most certainly mine are. And I am unqualified for anything other than working in the Industry apparently. Which sucks because I spent all this money and incurred all this debt to educate myself, in order to move up in the world. But here I remain, stagnating, somewhere near the bottom of the middle. Why oh why oh why didn't I just become an electrician... (not like they could afford a house now either so...)

I don't usually put links to other stories... mainly because I am not actually sure if it will work, but most probably it's more of an ego thing, but this article by Billy Crystal on writing I thought worthy.

http://www.calendarlive.com/stage/cl-ca-crystal8jan08,0,4186085.story

Not that he, one of the most fortunate people in the world probably, needs more attention but you gotta love a guy in his position who can still admit that he's scared, is married to his original wife and has a sincerity that makes all his accomplishments and prosperity seem natural and not easy to begrudge. If only all people who were doing the things you wanted to do but didn't succeed at were so. It would make failure just a little easier to swallow.

Speaking of, this thing, failure, has been on my mind for years now. Primarily because I feel as if I have failed to achieve almost every professional goal I have set out so far. Or maybe my goals were not concrete enough, or not achievable in the first place. Maybe I mistook for talent and passion what was just ego and aimlessness.

I had a thought, this morning, as I was driving into work which just popped into my head: "If at first you don't succeed, change your perspective. You probably have already succeeded at something, you just haven't noticed." I willed it away but it kept sneaking back and repeating itself. I certainly hope it's not one of those new-agey cliche-y missives that I have grown so weary of. It's not that I mind them so much, I grew up in the Bay Area afterall where one is surrounded by new-agey, hippie, peace-love and understanding man, so I get it. I really do. I like it, it has its place. But frankly the power of positive thinking has been taken over by too many who have jumped on the bandwagon of this sort of emotional healing and refuse to get off, take a walk or look around. Its not a lifestyle, its a tool. One that is useful in quiet moments few and far between. That is when its effective. Its not an EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE deal. Like anything in too large doses it becomes repugnant.

And so, I am not sure what this little saying that keeps swirling around in my head is supposed to mean or do for me. Maybe the obvious, "change your perspective", would be a no brainer, eh? Or maybe its just the product of waking up hours earlier than you normally do having been up a good portion of the night with a sick baby. Maybe a little of both.

Apparently I have been tagged...

7 things I can't do

• Clearly (here's your answer demondoll), dress myself properly
• Lose weight, apparently
• Find time and/or motivation to paste pictures into a photo album so that I won't (just as my mother did when I was a youngster) say to my S.O.s when they are older, "Mmm, no I don't know when that was taken and no, I am not sure which of you that is"
• Dance, anymore... I mean the real Martha Graham kind
• Math, although sometimes I get a brain fart and do it correctly
• Remember my mother's birthday
• Hold a grudge

7 bad habits
(Isn't this just basically the same as the above?)

• Picking my skin
• Calling myself fat
• Obsessing over chin hairs
• Picking my skin
• Eating sugar
• Ignoring my appearance (in the larger sense, not in the miniscule chin hair sense)
• Picking my skin (I know, it's gross... but there it is)

7 fave tv shows/movies

• Lost (thanks to Brother-In-Law for getting me addicted)
• Location, Location, Location - on BBC America and its American counterpart, House Hunters (although they never give you home prices so somewhat less satisfying)
• NOW on PBS
• The English Patient
• The Colbert Report
• Supernanny and Nanny 911 (because it's always fun to believe that you are a better parent than 'those' people)
• Whatever's on Turner Classic Movies

7 things i say most often

• "Great"
• I used to say "Everything happens for a reason" but I no longer believe that, I think now that's a load
• "I look like a cow"
• "My God, I'm huge"
• "Great!"
• "Mamma says no"
• "Great!!"

7 most attractive things about my partner

• Well, he used to have beautiful hair but he won't let it grow anymore... bummer
• His sense of humor
• His beautiful eyes, but I can't say as I appreciate much his current 'serial killer' glasses that cover them up and he won't wear his contacts much... bummer
• That he has no problem changing diapers
• He does dishes and laundry
• He always says "We'll figure something out"
• He's a kind, kind soul

7 randoms

• It really irritates me when people say "Follow your passion and the money will come" because that's a load and the only people who say that have money and have already succeeded
• I want to make a documentary on failure because we never celebrate it in this country, so consequently we all feel like losers in some regard because nobody ever talks about it and, a documentary about stuff because people have too much of it
• I want to be wildly successful at some bloody thing before I die!
• I just read in the Sunday Parade that I am supposed to now, because I am 40, be creating a 'new dream' but I can't figure out what the hell that is
• I'm having some difficulty/trauma in coming to grips with sending S.O.v.1 off to preschool in a couple of months... he's so young!
• I'm having my first mammogram today and I'm scared
• I feel extremely lucky - to have been born in America - into sane-ish family - in the Bay Area where I learned early on that everyone is exactly the same on the inside - even if they look funny to you on the outside; to have really great friends all over the place despite the fact that I have not a one closer than 200 miles away from where I live now; and to have a lovely husband who loves me and two really spectacular kids

I Have Become Downright Provincial

So, it's happened and perhaps there is no turning back... perhaps there is hope. This is what happens when you move to the suburbs, I suppose. Not that we have all the attractive trappings of the suburb life; We don't own a home or a dog or have a backyard and frankly the schools are not so much better as less crowded. We still stuggle to make ends meet and often they actually don't from week to week. But somehow I still had a sense of hipness about myself, of being somewhat 'cool', as I had when I was living in Los Angeles and working in the Industry. Oh sure, there were clues that this had faded away. One was when I made an entry into my Quicken for the purchase of a haircut and noticed that the last haircut I'd had was 8 months earlier! I've stopped wearing makeup on my days off but I could still tell myself that that was my little rebellion against the Tyranny of the Cult of Youth and Beauty Towards Women. The fact that S.O. (Significant Other) and I have not been out alone at night for over two years we keep TELLING ourselves is because of the expense of an adequate and reliable babysitter and lack thereof.

I mean, we watch the right things, we listen to NPR and (sometimes) music still and we read the hip Internet sites... But it has happened, I've gone native. What was the clincher? I bought a pair of jeans online (gift certificate from S.O.'s brother) and when they arrived they weren't quite right. But I decided not to send them back because by the time I paid for shipping back and then forth I would have paid $40 for a pair of $40 jeans that were supposed to have been a bargain in the first place... but the real shame of it all is that they are Levi's - no, not 501 or even 505 - Levi's 550... Relaxed fit... Tappered (cringe)... Yes, that's right. Say it loud, say it proud: Mom Jeans. And I'm wearing them right now on a trip to Target to buy diapers wherein I will bribe my little S.O.'s, versions 1 and 2, with candy for good behavior in the store. So sad...

Is There Anything to Be Thankful For?

Not to be annoying and add too much more to the endless and mostly innane End O' Year List O' Mania but... there are a couple of things that I would like to mention about this year...

SOv.2 had her 1 year birthday this year and has grown into a spectacular toddler with a surprisingly sophistocated sense of humor

SOv.1 is on his way, if not quite well on, to learning how to use the potty and successfully wear underwear thus diminishing the resources put out towards diapering and all its sundry glory

SO has discovered the wonder of the SAM-e and Vitamin B combo to even out the moods which helps out in many areas of life, his, mine and ours

I am thankful for all the friends who have kept in touch with us despite the continued exhile in the desert

I am grateful for the visits we have been honored with from family and friends... I know its a trek and its not always pleasant here though apparently people pay through the nose to stay here on a weekend... we do have to appreciate swimming in December, especially when our East Coast family and friends are experiencing snow... (SO likes to rub it in)

I am grateful to have met some new people this year who have inspired me... it is especially nice to leave 2005 on a high note of a possible film production for early 2006 in the works... and if it doesn't pan out then at least I got to leave this year hopeful!

I am so glad that we continue in good health

I am glad that I turned 40 this year but don't feel it and was told today (thank you Judy!) don't look it

I will miss my Uncle Tom who passed away in October but am so thankful to me Mommasita for framing lovingly and giving me his last painting...

I look forward to 2006 and will probably ring in the New Year with a book in hand, nursing SOv.2, listening to SOv.1 snoring beside me in 'big bed' while SO, poor lovely, works hard for the money at the hotel where he will be dodging drunken revellers swaying down the hallways. I am grateful he will get off late, well past the time most of them will be drooling on their hotel pillows and not on the roads.

Happy New Year everyone!

I was going to write this week about the futility of it all, feeling as if I am stagnating in my job. (Oh yes, easy for you to say, "You, the mother, should be happy just to be raising your children". But you weren't brainwashed by the women's lib movement in your formative years convincing you that you were supposed to be successful in your career TOO otherwise you are a LOO-ZER!) But then, something happened. Things began to shift slightly and now there is a very strong possiblity that we may actually get a film in production. Not just that but one of the projects I would be a Producer on. That's right, full fledged, grown up title that it is, that's what I would do. Wow.

Not that it will all come to fruition. I fully expect each time something looks hopeful for it to fall through. That's not negative thinking. In the film industry that is just called realistic thinking. Staying IN the business is considered positive thinking and no other actions or statements are required to prove that you are indeed a hopeful person.

Now, I can't remember all the brilliant things I was going to write about faith and hope and the futility of planning... Now, I am just too busy planning for aproject that, hopefully will come together and if it does I have total faith that it will turn out great.

So much for pesimissm... can't seem to hold on to it when things go well. Funny that.

Why Don't Movies Tell the Real Story!?

... of putting little ones to bed? Add this to the annals of Things They Don't Tell You About Parenting, Volumn 500.

Its all sweetness and light in those magazines and books and websites, isn't it! Why don't they tell you about how when you finally get them to agree to stay in their own bed they revert back to yours the first time they are sick and its start from square one!

Why don't they tell you that nursing a baby till they are 2 years old is a swell idea until you consider the TEETH!

Why don't they tell you that you can't force your children to use a pacifier, soft animal or blanket to comfort themselves to sleep but that they are very likely to want to use your BOOBS!

Why don't they tell you that once asleep its not likely they will stay that way for the minimal 6 hours, forget about the 8 you really need!

This is the scene:

Wife walks into living room where Husband is embedded on the sofa. He looks up lovingly.

HUSBAND: Did she go down?
WIFE: Yes. She actually fell asleep about an hour ago but I just couldn't stop looking at that angel face.

Husband chuckles, kisses Wife on cheek as he throws a loving warm arm around her, pulling her in close for a snuggle.

What really happens:

Husband is vegging out on sofa, not listening at all to the baby monitor when Wife stomps in.

WIFE: Didn't you hear me? I have been screaming for 20 minutes!
HUSBAND: Hunh, whaa?
WIFE: Milk! The boy needs milk.
HUSBAND: Are we going to watch a movie?

Wife rolls her eyes as she stomps back into the bedroom. Sounds of screaming come from the baby monitor.

Later:

Wife sneaks quitely into the living room. Husband is sleeping, mouth agape, on sofa. The remote control dangling from his fingertips.

WIFE: Honey. Honey!
HUSBAND: Hunh, Whaa?
WIFE: You were sleeping.
HUSBAND: Uhn... Kids asleep?
WIFE: (rolling eyes) Finally. I swear if that kid keeps chewing on my boobs I am just going to cut them off! Ugh! Why can't they just go to SLEEP!
HUSBAND: Speaking of, I'm exhausted. I think I'll just go to bed. Kids in their own beds.
WIFE: (rolling her eyes) No! If you wake them up...

Sounds of rustling from the baby monitor.

WIFE: Shhhhh!
HUSBAND: Huhn, whaa?
WIFE: The babies.

Sounds of crying from baby monitor.

WIFE: Gaddamnit! Uh. I better go back in there.
HUSBAND: What time did they go down?
WIFE: Two hours ago.
HUSBAND: Alright. Well, I'll be out here watching the Daily Show.

Wife stomps back into bedroom.

Scene end.

I think we know from watching Nanny 911 and Supernanny that we are not alone. But even those shows only serve to make us feel superior. I mean, 'we' aren't as bad as those parents. But I suspect there are alot more things like sleep rituals that parenting books, magazines, websites and shows fail to mention you will have difficulty with as a parent. Can we just come clean, and not in the "parenting is the hardest job in the world" namby pamby kind of way, but in the real, yes I let my children sleep in my bed because if I don't they scream all night and make the neigbors want to call social services kind of way.... I mean please! Can we just?

Thanksgiving.

You know, some years you skate by these holidays without event... and then some years...

We had planned on convening at my sister's house but that plan got scotched when my Grandmother had a bad fall and had to be hospitalized a few days before. I suppose we could have just stayed home but it seemed unthinkable. We wanted to be together (my sister will be in that hurricane state for Christmas this year. No, not that one, the other one. Right. The long one that gets all the aid.) so we piled kids in car at the last minute, got days off and just went.

My Grandmother was brought home from the hospital the day before Thanksgiving. Nothing broken apparently but at nearly 90 a fall takes a long time to recover from. We made the 6 hour trip, stopping along the way for food and to amuse the kids at a little park in Cabrillo on the slides, and everyone was in good spirits. Grandma seemed to be OK, my mom was there supporting my grandparents and we all wanted to support her. When we arrived at the hotel where my sister and her family were already in the suite, we called to see if we should push on to the GPs (Grandparents) or not. Nope, says my mother, go feed yourselves and then call later.

There's nothing like searching for food in a strange city. One always ends up chosing a know evil. Our choice: Hometown Buffet. I know what you're thinking! But how can you beat feeding a toddler for $1.95! And we've got a littler one (Significant Other version 2) who eats alot! It is always good on the way down but once it gets there all bets are off. Back in the hotel, everyone still in good moods if a bit loagie from too much mac and cheese and frozen yougurty-ice creamy substance with sprinkles we call Mom, who says, "Come on over. Grandma is waiting for you".

My sister drives pretty fast so here Significant Other was, in the dark on strange roads he hadn't travelled in years, trying to keep up with my saying, "Slow down. I know how to get there!" The second he whips round the corner to park in the driveway, SOv.2 throws up. I mean tons. I thought at first it was just the Hometown Buffet punishing her. Its all over her car seat. All over her and of course I have nothing but a baby blanket to wipe it all up. She's crying, SO runs into the house to get towels and bags for the clothes. I manage to clean her up, change her and make a decent, if smelly, greeting to Grandma who is bedridden.

So, poor little sweet gal, SOv.2, pukes all night long. Which means of course that I am up and awake all night. I send SO out into the foggy wilds of Santa Maria in a questionable part of town at 3 in the morning for Pedialite, which she won't drink and when she does, pukes back up. You know, there is a real problem with Pedialite that I think the manufacturers should consider: KIDS WON'T DRINK IT! In the morning I think she's finally done but just as I am getting in the shower I see my sister whip past me with a towel. Poor gal. Twelve hours of puking. That's too much for an 18 month old to take! But she handled it with her normal good grace.

Thanksgiving day went fine. I shared cooking with brother-in-law and my mom. Everyone ate, including SOv.2 who by that time was feeling better. Except me. My stomach was dodgey all day and I felt sure I was to follow in SOv.2's footsteps at any moment. But no.

Then it came time to spread the ashes. My Uncle died in October and was cremated. We had not yet planned what to do with them though my Grandma felt sure he'd want to be spread in Avila Bay. So, since we were all there, including my other Uncle, we all piled in cars, sans GPs of course and went off to Avila Bay. It was not as emotional as I had expected given but that my Uncle passed away a month earlier I presume we had all done our own seperate grieving already and collectively were only to share the acceptance portion. It was almost solemn and I'd like to say it was quiet but SOv.2 cried the entire time!

The rest of the night I thought SO and SOv.1 had dodged the bullet. They played and were happy but then on Friday we set out for home. Passing Santa Barbara we decided to stop at the beach to play a bit. Six hours in a car is kinda cruel for a toddler so you have to give them something to look forward to and back at to make the time pass more smoothly. But I should have known something was up when SOv.1 said when we stopped for a snack "Cheese icky". He's never made such a ridiculous statement in his life being that he is a great lover of cheese. So, sure enough as soon as nightfall both SO and I got the sense and I looked back and sure enough, it was his turn. I mean, being sick is bad enough but being sick while travelling is insulting.

Saturday rolls around, SOv.1 is past his 12 hours of puking and he and his sister are both firmly ensconced in sick the other end. I am feeling none too well but time does not stop for mommy, oh no! SO had to go to work so I saw to the puky clothes and car seats - which had to be dismantled, washed, sprayed, Febreezed and reassembled. There should be an award for every mother who has to do that job. I am thinking, "Cool, tailend, all on the mend" when I see SO lomping down the walkway and hour early home from work. Uh oh. No sooner than he is out of his work clothes but he's in the bathroom. At least that was his sole trip. The small benefit of years of illnesses.

I seem to have dodged the puke bullet and the backend bullet this time but I always end up sicker longer than everyone else because of it. It all has to converge somewhere those pesky germs and usually they end up in my sinuses, making my jaw throb and using up at least one full tree's worth of Kleenex.

We hope for an uneventful Christmas.

I had my annual exam yesterday by the wonderful doctor who delivered SOv.2 in May 2004. He is a really nice guy and always seems happy even though he is perpetually sleep deprived. We had the opportunity to gossip about celebrities, talked about our kids and finally came around to the 'age' thing. (Maybe this is my new obsession alongside real estate prices.) The issue came up because he looked at my chart at the same time as he asked if I wanted to have another baby and he said "Tick tock, girl. Better get hopping on another if you're going to do it at all". I've hit that magic 'worry' number for obstetricians.

He has just turned 45 himself and thought, for him, it was a milestone. Because, as he said, he could imagine living to 80 but not quite to 90, so 45 officially meant the beginning of the end. It means for the first time he has more years behind him than in front of him. I actually thought of this when my uncle died last month. Does everyone have this thought at some point? And how does everyone shake the 'hurry up and get something noteworthy done' panic? Or worse, the 'why bother I haven't enough time anyway' malaise. Even my doctor, an OB/GYN who has delivered hundreds of babies, feels it. "I feel like I haven't accomplished anything yet!" he said. Not a comforting thought for ME. My accomplishments are slim compared to his. But then he was talking about things like travelling in Europe, seeing movies, reading books... not work accomplishments. What I was thinking about were work accomplishments. And in that regard I have fared poorly. I have been busy busy busy trying to accomplish things my whole adult life and several years back into my childhood when I was certain that acting was my path (at the age of 7 no less) and was trying to rack up credits. But frankly, when I look at it now I have very mixed feelings. I am proud of the work that I have done. But work itself doesn't impress and could I talk about what I have accomplished in my worklife at, say, a cocktail party and be as proud? I haven't one (or several) things that I can point to that make me feel, "See, I did what I set out to do".

I pointed out to the doctor that since I just turned 40 that I was officially invisible to the world. He looked a little worried until I told him that for a man they didn't really have to worry until they were 65... or poor. I guess one of the beauties of being invisible is that you can do whatever the hell you want to. But one of the problems with that is that since you are invisible, no one will notice. (Its just slightly possible that I am overly concerned with what others think of me but you would never be able to tell that by my appearance!!)

Another gloomy consequence of being 40 is the onset of the annual mamogram. I now have a referral to have one, once SOv.2 stops nursing that is, and a handy little bit of concern about The Mom ' Pop Boob.

(OK, that's a long story: When I was struggling to nurse SOv.1, who was born about 6 weeks prematurely, my sister - who was, like SO and myself, out of work at the time - spent alot of time with us and the new baby. Since SOv.1 was not really good at nursing I had to pump and the left boob was always the big producer. I remarked that SOv.1 didn't like the left breast much because it was the big one, but he liked the littler right one because it was not so looming and more friendly. My sister then named them The Corporate Boob (left) and The Mom 'n Pop Boob (right). There you have that story...)

No doubt, it amounts to nothing but that since I am still nursing baby at night and mornings and my appointment was at 2pm my milk ducts were filled. But the doctor was being overly cautious, making me promise to wean that girl soon and go get a mamogram. One out of every eight women now gets breast cancer. The incidence is on the rise and they are not sure why and on top of that in his particular practice they have had a spate of incidents. Rotten.

"Boobs. Whaaa. Good god... What are they good for? Absolutely nursing. Say it again. Huuuu. Boobs..."

Of course, SO would not agree with above assessment. But really at this age, what are they doing dangling there all vulnerable being possibly 1 out of 8? Why isn't testicular cancer as prevelant? Fat tissue? Male dominance? We're starting to close the ranks in female heart attacks but they'll never catch us at breast cancer! Ha! Though some men do get it and no doubt its much more scary for them.

I wish I had some sort of conclusion to this line of thought to console myself with... The only thing I can think is I must remember to always take my vitamins... and hope I live to 90. Oh, imagine the dangling then!

We lost my Uncle Tom on Thursday. He was only 55. He was my 'favorite' uncle. He being an artist, a musician and in his last years a gardener. He was creative, like me and so I related to him well. He was also just 15 when I was born and so I saw more of him during visits to my Grandparents than my other uncle. I just thought he was cool and funny.

We found out on Tuesday that he had been admitted to the hospital. He was in intensive care and hooked up to all sorts of ventilators, feeding tubes, etc. I spoke to the nurse who told me a lot more than perhaps she was meant to, he being an adult, and me being just a neice. But she could hear in my voice, no doubt, the grief and sadness I already felt. Its like being encased in gelatin. You feel insulated by the emotion from the rest of the world. Sometimes the outside is so blurry, and sometimes it comes into such stark focus, but its as if the volume has been turned down. You see and hear everything, they just do not impact you as normal. Then as days go by and you begin to deal with the process of what a loss means to your life and your family the layer of gelatin begins to diminish. But that sock in the gut can come at any moment and the ping in the jaw that alerts you to the iminent tears.

I have always tried to keep regret at bay in my life. Partially because I believe its mostly a wasted emotion and partly because I believe its a little self indulgent. But I do regret the times when I had an opportunity to be closer to my uncle and I didn't take advantage of them. Or didn't create them. I suppose that is normal. But a thought keeps coming back to me that I must hang on to. That its an honor to share a part of someone's life. A life is such a monumental thing. No one has any obligation to share any part of theirs with you, for afterall who are any of us anyway? But to be able to share in someone's life is special.

I have always felt grateful to people who actually want to spend some of their time on me. And this morning, as I was starting t0 forget all the poignant and important things that grief teaches, I was reminded. I stopped by Staples on my way to work and was approached by a man. He actually pursued me down the aisle. Now, you can look at it either way. I could have run scared and thought "crack pot". But then what do each of you gain? He was a vivacious and vibrant person and obviously on some sort of drug, X or shrooms or something. It would have been much simpler to panick and run away. But I made myself stay and LISTEN to him. You know, methed out or whatever he may have been, he is still a human being and has value and an important life. He chose me to share some of it with for a few minutes in a Staples in Cathedral City. It may not have lifelong impact as a family member has, but it certainly was a little hello for both of us. We walk around the world so all alone sometimes that maybe we forget a little bit that there are others and that we affect them.

It occurs to me that life is not just experienced individually but collectively. And when I start thinking, "Why did my uncle have to die so young?" I remember that without loss there can be no experience of joy in gain.

In the way of major life events, my sister's baby was born on Monday, October 24th (the day my uncle was admitted to the hospital and in effect, lost to the world) in Guatemala City, Guatemala. They were told on Thursday that he belongs to them, the same day my uncle died. We lost one man in the family and we gained another little one. Its just so like life. It made for a terrible wonderful week.

Well jeez... after my birthday on Tuesday I thought I would write something profound about turning 40, after my Significant Other (SO) and my son (SOv.1) and daughter (SOv.2) came to take me to lunch. But profundity escaped me then and has elluded me for the past few days.

But I did have a nice birthday. My SO made sure that many of my friends knew I was turning 40 by emailing out a picture of me looking rather demonic, an "oh my God I can't be this old" smile on my face, alongside my lovely sister who had just passed on the "This is what 40 looks like" T-shirt. We can thank SO's mother for finding the shirt and giving it to her oldest who then passed it on to SO who then passed it on to his younger brother, in turn it went to my sister then to me last Saturday. It will go to my sister's SO in just a year and a half. So no smirking bro!

I recall starting my graduate degree at SDSU and being a little overwhelmed by the youth there! And I was 28 then! I remember walking around the campus on the first day looking at all the teenaged freshmen, in their high heeled boots (they were in for a brief period in the 90's if you remember) and short skirts - no they weren't hookers in broad daylight - and their smug "I'm so hot and I'm gonna get laid whenever I wanna" attitudes and thinking, "Gals, time and gravity. Happens to everyone." But certainly I didn't contemplate that I would get THIS old, I was just thinking that they would all get as old as I felt then, being ten years older than most of them! Funny how as human beings somehow you don't really believe the rules apply to yourself... this is the primary problem in Washington at the moment...

But, no. Nothing really eyeopening to add to the discourse on aging. All I can say is I love my friends, many who emailed with good wishes, I love my SO and the kids - SOv.1 and SOv.2. I love my family who all came to spend the day with me on Saturday before my birthday. When it comes right down to it, its ALL about your relationships with the ones you love and as I lift my fingers, and move on to my toes to count the ones I love and who seem to love me back, I find I run out of appendeges on which to number them and find I am really, really, really lucky. I have a lot of 'people' and that is the prize I get for my birthday.

Earthquake, mudslide, hurricane, tsunami... Manmade: Genocide, war, terrorism

Is it just me or does this seem like a bad year?