Don't mind me , I've been dead for years.

Don't mind me , I've been dead for years.

I remember exactly the time it was when I realized I was "less-than". 2:30 am.

When I realized that the "Hobbies" had become the core of the Life Source and I was no longer needed.

When I became just a fixture as well as a burden instead of an integral part of anything.

When I began to forget the basics and started to notice my replacements, the things that were more important and pleasant than my broken self. 

Deeply embarrassed and ashamed that I have nothing, I am nothing, nothing to offer.

From dawn 'till dusk the Life Source "viewed", things that were not necessary, became obsessed with things that were not necessary and more often than not, ignored Me and the responsibilities that were necessary.

It was terribly painful to watch from afar as you were either being ignored, told you were annoying or witnessed your Driving Force hoover and fawn over "others points of interest".

The drive is gone, the will has vanished and I am so very tired. 

I am not without fault, my moral compass is questionable and the qualities that made me pleasurable are long since gone.

I always knew the end would come, it comes for us all, I just never thought I would be replaced out of existence.

The Life Force started with nothing, so I gave my heart, soul, love, joy, pain, hate, and never asked for anything but equality in exchange.  That's the risk of always hoping your right but knowing deep down that you were wrong from day one.

I once was a warrior with the courage of my conviction, now walking is hard. It should get easier to slip into non-existence once you realize you are gone.

Grease, Vans and and broken decks...a love story.

What do I miss these days? 

Well I suppose the hardest things to replace are the feeling of invincibility, the lack of groaning when I get out of bed, missing people who are no longer with us but made us better just for knowing them.  First love, first heartbreak, obsession, mix tapes for the object of your obsession.  Being the Big Sister, the chick that got to hang out with guys and get greasy, dirty and sweaty.

The faint odors of the Tognotti's warehouse and the VP fuel in the back, the far-off sound of Sac Raceway and pooling our ducketts for Avgas from Phoenix Field. 

Being the first woman on the parts counter in over 22 years at a highly respected race shop and not having the OG's question your knowledge...well that's an honor no matter if you sit or stand to piss.

Winning your class in a major car show and not even realizing it because you were just so damn excited to even be AT the show in the first place.

Cruising the SR Mall before it got shut down, then Bird Cage (when it still had birds) before it got shut down, then the Sunrise/Madison/ GBL loop before they shut us down. 

Swiss Bones smoothly caressing each other along the faint lonely sound of a carefully molded half-pipe.  The sandy swish of the BMX track in Roseville and the enthusiasm of the invincible kids.  The drop down gate still sticks, to this day, and even though it's dangerous, we've all taken a tumble and ended up with a mouth full of dirt.

Those of you locals old enough to remember, will give a respectful nod to GoSkate and all those blanks that my brother destroyed, as well as the whole chickens being hurled around Pollo Ole' where the worlds best guac was made every day, thanks Mara, we miss you.

Then later, VW's and L-Dog, both a bit dangerous and keeping Shorty busy at Bugformance. Hitting  up a Taco Bell anywhere in SacTown only to find a "FSU" sticker on the menu board.

The smell of new Vans fresh out of the box only to keep wearing your "Vandals" until they literally fell of your feet.  F & L beer, nuff' said on that. Op's, Vuarnetts, Arnetts (this always slays me).  K-Swiss, Powell Peralta shirts and 501's for $9.99 at Mervyn's.

Watching 'Suburbia' and secretly wishing you were part of that crew while shitting yourself wondering if it could actually happen to you.

Stickers . On . Everything.

Kids playing outside 'till it was dark.

Making due without, making something out of nothing, crashing on the floor of the party house, scrounging for change at the drive-thru, trying not to stutter when you got pulled over.

Film that required developing.  Polaroids.  Wanting a Rico's flying saucer size pizza, getting Little Caesar's instead.  When a can of soda was enough. 

Folsom Lake. Bonfires, kegs, boom boxes, oh and...Park rangers.  Scatter! 

Most importantly I long for a time with no cell phones or texting, no selfies or selfie sticks, no Instagram, Facebook, SnapChat, Tinder, Vine or Twitter.  In fact, if some one had said "Oh that's gold!  I gotta post that on FB and Tweet it to see how many likes/re-tweets I get."  They may or may not have ended up inverted in a waste receptacle at some point.

I miss politeness, respect, Saturday morning cartoons, cars that you can actually hear, and a time where parents coddling their "special snowflake" was frowned upon, because life is tough as hell and Skyping your best bud isn't the same as sitting on the porch with a cold one when your 14 year old dog dies.

Folks, in order to have a successful civilization one must know how to be 'civil' in the first place.  That includes saying please and thank you, acting for the greater good instead of ones self and lending a helping hand.

I think my brother Charlie summed up today's society when he said "Everyone wants to be involved, but nobody wants to be bothered."  He also says we should chin-check it and hug it out when it's over.  My husband thinks smacking some folks in the head with a shovel may help on a scientific level...but that's for another time.

I miss yesterday, because today it's all one big office party where the only one who cares, buys the Birthday Girl a cake and a card.  Everyone grabs some cake, signs the card and doesn't chip in or is actually sure who 'Phyllis in Accounting' is in the first place.

If you need me, I'll be in my garage, sobbing and clutching my last unbroken deck to my chest (a Zero with the flag screened on it), and a set of Independent trucks in the other and wondering exactly how Tony Hawk became 48, or better yet...when, exactly did I turn 50?

...and then she got her wish

People always say, "be careful what you wish for". Literally the day after I wrote my last post I shattered my leg, December 10th, 2012. I wished for peace and quiet and was granted 4 months of mandatory bed rest along with all the silence I could handle. Oh and an added bonus, surgery and bolts (not pins mind you) in my leg. And my Mom came to visit exactly twice, that's it.


Damien took up all my chores and his full time job. Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, my birthday, all cancelled. As it turns out, I am the only one who really cares about that crap so in essence we saved a ton of money and we are blacklisted by Hallmark.

I am fully booked through June as the weddings come in one by one (at least some folks still celebrate stuff). Excited brides full of ideas and hope, glowing, radiant...pssshhhhh. I never got the full wedding experience either time I was married, hell I'm a florist and I didn't even have flowers at my second wedding, shit happens.

Now I can walk unassisted, albeit with a limp, adorable if you’re a pirate, not so cute on a 47-year-old mom. I am currently looking into an eye patch and a parrot because life without the proper accessories isn't worth living. I have also hung some things on my walls for the first time since 2006, anyone who knows me knows that I am a weirdo when it comes to stuff on my walls. I would explain it if I knew the answer myself.

I wish I had more interesting things to share, I don't. Everyone I know is having, had or planning on kids and here I sit inching slowly towards mentalpause, because just being insane isn't enough, noooo ya gotta be crazy too. I want to be awesome and creative, have a garden and plan my trip to Disneyland. I want to go water-skiing and have cocktails precisely at 7, go "glamping" (look it up, it's fantastic!) and shop somewhere besides thrift stores.

That's what I'm wishing for this time, because now we all know what happened last time I made a wish.

Alone in a room full of people

What happens when you wake up one day and everything you were absolutely, positively sure about was, well...wrong. The people in your life weren't who you thought, the things you believed in became unbelievable and you even second guessed the things you saw and heard.

I miss the days of "personal anarchy", where I could get away with being brutal because I at least had the courage of my conviction. Now I feel old, broken and tired. Especially my heart.

Nothing is easy anymore, there are no simple tasks. Part of my life's biggest joy was helping others. But after a while when every phone call began with "I need...", well I just up and changed my phone number, I just snapped, and not in that dramatic "mascara running down my face, scotch in one hand, cigarette in the other wearing a vintage slip and marabou slippers" kind of way. I snapped in the most horrid way I could think of, lucid and completely sober and 100% sure of my actions.

I love who I love and that will never change but I cannot force people to want me instead of need me. My house is amazingly quiet now and it's going to be hard to get used to it. If I could just get my head to pipe down things would be smooth indeed.

Oh, and who knew that my Husband would turn out to be the Hero in all of this? I think it has to do with the uniform.

Ignoring me to my face

So my husband finally talked me into getting a "smart phone".  To preface, they literally give me a panic attack and it drives me utterly insane to watch a room full of "friends" ignore each other while they fondle their phones and obviously text their "more important friends", all while ignoring you politely within their cyber bubble. 

Why do we need this much media ALL the time?  I mean, really...what do you do with it?  I liked my old, cracked, purple cell.  It wasn't the size of a small freaking laptop, the camera lens was scratched, it could text.  I wasn't slick or fancy.

This fucking phone is a giant electronic leash, tugging at my cranium, I can feel it lurking in my purse, waiting for me to fall asleep, and then morphing into that little psycho phone from Transformers, only to eat it's way into my brain and turn me into a phone clutching, GPS implanted freak.

I want to take this little SOB back-NOW!  I thought I could learn to love it, but after tonight, being in that room full of friends and pulling that menacing little shit from my bag just so I would have something to do, I feel justified in it's return to the mother ship.

A man recently got run over by a subway car, the guy snapping away with his phone never even tried to pull him up...but you bet he sold that pic in a hot minute. 

I admittedly spend more than my fair share on the comp, I am an insomniac, I don't get out much, when I do visit, I enjoy actual interaction, fuck even Steven Hawking will talk to you.  When my husband is home he has that phone in his hand about 80% of the time, I have learned to talk to the back of his head.

I would rather have someone I care about tell me to fuck off and walk away then to ignore me to my face.

This girl

I miss this girl. She wasn't afraid of anything. She had passion and creativity, she gave a shit.

Every now and then I think about her, she was really fun, reckless, but fun. Starting as many fires as she put out, the first to admit it and the last one to know. Change your oil or your mind, made no difference, she was always up to it.

This chick loved horses, dogs and kids, getting dirty by cleaning up messes and never turning down anything shiny.

She dug glitter and grease equally. Cupcakes or caviar with indifference, "it all tastes yummy" is what she would say. She fit in with white trash or blue bloods at high tea, cowboys at high noon and the "Creatures" beyond midnight.

But Stevie had it right all along and rulers really do make bad lovers, so she put her kingdom up for sale. L'amour, l'amour.

Yup I miss her sometimes...maybe, after she pawned her crown, her edges softened and she found someone to mellow out for. I wish her the best, and I love her. She taught me everything I know.

ICU and you and you too...

I spent yet another holiday in ICU. Oh joy. It was all very nonchalant this time. I made friends with the nurses, phlebotomists and doctors. I learned valuable tactical skills needed to maneuver with double IV lines. I also learned that when your a Martian like I am you need medical care sooner than earthlings do...*snicker*.

I do believe that I am done with all this medical nonsense and that I need to turn over a new leaf. My arms look like I am a junkie and I came home with 30 pounds of water weight, all of which has been properly dispersed, thank you very much.

I am off for a much needed haircut and hopefully back to work next week.

The bad nights...

I thought it was going to be different than it is...but it's not. I am the married "spinster". The one that is only good for helping others. A distant friend said to me once: "Your plate is always full, but none of it is ever for you." She was right.

One of my favorite quotes is one of my own: "Life requires less living than I thought it would." A truer statement has never been uttered. This is one of the bad nights, full of bitterness, remorse and regrets. I miss my dog.

(I started writing this last September, when I was feeling sorry for myself).

Oddly enough tonight, 5 months later and still missing Maggie-Jo, I mourn the loss of our puppy Veronica "Ronnie" Jean, who passed away this evening of unknown causes. Although I am not bitter or full of regrets tonight, but I am empty and so, so sad. She was to say the least, interesting and very lively, not to mention opinionated, as Heelers often are.

I was holding her as the life left her body, feeling helpless and scared...when something odd happened, I broke down all the way to my core, my heart just cracked. She was not even a year old, and she just "broke", I am usually very strong in these situations, I fell to the ground, Carole told Damien to "Get her out of here!" He held me and told me to quit apologizing, and that it wasn't my fault, I had done everything I could. He is a kind man and I love him for it.

My kind man wept while driving home, about forty miles. As we approached our driveway he became inconsolable, and said "I don't know which is worse, the fact that when I walk in she won't be there or explaining this all to Archie" (our 5 year old male). Archie had held patient watch over his girl for the last 48 hours, and he would try to find her...my heart ached for the men in my life.

About four a.m. yesterday morning, I took a knee and asked "whom ever was in charge of little red Heelers" to "cut her a break", and I warbled out a quiet little prayer. Some would say it went unanswered, but I think allowing her a fast release I the arms of Daddy and Mommy was the answer I got.

You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. She "needed" to be released from suffering, so I thank whomever is in charge of little red Heelers from the bottom of my very broken heart.

Veronica "Ronnie"-Jean April 1, 2010 - February 13, 2011 Rest in peace Miss Jean.

What we are

"We are quicksilver, a fleeting shadow, a distant sound. Our home has no boundaries beyond which we cannot pass. We live in music, in a flash of color. We live on the wind, and in the sparkle of a star."...Endora (Bewitched)

Channeling my desire for Chanel

According to Chanel ...

Chanel Dissolvant Doux Nail Colour Remover

-The nail enamel remover that cares for your nails
-Removes all traces of nail enamel at a stroke, leaving impeccably clean nails
-Gentle formula is kind to nails
-Contains a special blend of water and acetone, which removes nail enamel effectively, gently and fast.

Once again I am smitten by the chic glass bottle, the Chanel moniker, the idea of haute couture for something as plebeian as taking off nail polish. I can't help it. I am so taken by this obsession that as I type I am doing so with stubs, yes you saw it right, stubs, no nails, nada, nein, nunc.

This product is offered at a mere $20. A 20 spot for your own personal stash of under the radar glamour. Really? Really. I would shove a pregnant woman out of the way if I saw this in a bin at TJ Maxx or Ross, to hell with the social graces. I would hide in the corner of the bathroom in the stall in the waaay back, giggling to my self...my preccioussoussssssssss.

Available at: http://www.beautyencounter.com/3145891331004.html?search

Another addition to my unholy obsession

Nail polish remover, a.k.a NPR, is an obsession of mine that occasionally links up with another star on my "freak flag" flying as cute packaging. Mix the two together and I am like a wolf at a steak convention, I can't help it my instincts kick in and Mother Nature takes over.

Today's absurdly overpriced offering is Paul & Joe's Nail Enamel Remover , $15. "A silky formula blending right into nail enamel, allowing you to instantly and effortlessly remove even glitter polish and nail art. Added conditioning agents provide nails with more tender loving care than ever, removing nail enamel without damaging the nails."

Who cares what it does?!? It could be toilet cleaner packaged like that. Hell if all mundane cleaning products came packaged like that you could actually eat off my floors.

Gorgeous! Beautiful, dainty, feminine, curvaceous, pink, retro, 50's *le pant, le wheeze, l'amour*.

Years ago Avon produced a NPR in a very unflattering, benign container, however it smelled like red hots...so luxurious that it left your fingertips soft and didn't whiten or dry out my nails. That was my exception to the packaging rules, luxury can stand in for looks, put them both together in the same room and I am indeed a happy girl.

Paul & Joe Cosmetics are available at: http://www.beautyhabit.com/paulandjoe_nails.html

2010...What's in it for you?

(The view from my bedroom window)

Well kids, it's a New Year and hopefully a better year than "The Year that shall not be mentioned". Last year was a crap year for just about everyone, including us. But, like just about everyone else, we muddled through.

We all lost so many of those dear to us, children, parents...hell I even lost my beloved little girl, Maggie-Jo.

This year seems so much brighter I am afraid to say it out loud for fear that I will jinx the rainbow. We have a new home, lots of little ones just here or on their way, opportunities opening up, family and friends re-entering our once very closed circle, and light where only darkness was before. Fate turned up the heat, we cooled our heels and it seems that perseverance paid off.

The view from my bed every morning now reminds me how lucky and in love I am and in the words of the Prophet known as 'Ice Cube'..."today was a good day."

Bobb-o and the great dirt track...

So Wednesday, Sept. 23, Bobby Rife (a.k.a. Bobb-o), packed his truck and headed for that great dirt track in the sky.

I cannot say enough about this man, he taught me to drive, to dance, to make late night runs to BK, he was the cool Uncle/Cousin. He made three wonderful girls who in turn made a slew of terriffic grandkids.

I won't go on but it needs to be said...Bobby, you and your odly soothing gravel filled voice of reason will be missed.

Always...Wendell

(Photo of Bobby and his youngest Amber at her wedding)

Bitesize divine filigree decadence

I saw these on a wedding favor website and I was floored...they had many different themes and colors, but the "white filigree" just seemed to have the right ammount of decadence without making me feel overwhelmingly under-classed.

The edible pearl dragees pushed these little delights over the top. Yet another thing to covet.

Holy Crap!

I haven't written anything since April!!!!! And THINGS have happened, oh yes they have!

1. I did another stunning wedding...duh, lol!

2. S & H is going under, it might be "30 years in the garden" but it only took 5 to make it to the toilet. Another completely unnecessary surrender of a perfectly viable company to it's inept upper corporate echelon.

3. My husband is the shiznit...well he just is.

4. I now have hair that is the envy of all who see it.

5. I have a new nephew...Tanner, back off!!! He's MINE!!!!

6. My kid is the employee du jour and desire of retail managers everywhere...go Noodlemaker!

That's about it for now...TTYL!

What I do best

This arrangement was for a customer, she loved it, told everyone how gorgeous it was. Everyone ooohed and ahhhed over it. To me it's just a design...uggh. I mean really, I know it's pretty, I made it, but it's kind of like being a mechanic for Ferrari, you get to be around all that fabulousness every day but you get to go home to...well not a Ferrari.

*gasp*

So today, while driving through quite possibly one of the ugliest intersections around I came across this car (well not "this" car) but close enough.

It is a 1971 SS Chevy Camaro clone. The actual car in question also has Crager knock offs and a standard hood with no cowl.

The gentleman said it had a new 350 cid crate motor and 4 speed Muncie M-22 Rock Crusher, but I seriously doubt it, the SS usually came paired with a M-22 in combination with a 396 cid. adding a 3:73 rear end. The guy didn't know what was in the rear or what type carb, I know that its' most likely the dreaded Quadra-Jet, he should too.

There were only 8,377 produced, so the odds aren't in my favor, plus I didn't see the tell-tale rear stabilizer bars *sigh*. It did , however have a nifty "poseur-pack" that included all the stickers and emblems.

But a girl can dream, oh yes she can and for a mere $8,000 she can dream in technicolor. But I could never own a "faux" SS anything, let alone my signature car...the 1970-73 Camaro.

I drove a pale yellow '73 throughout high school, it was pristine. I saw it once back in 2000 at a grocery store parking lot in Rio Linda of all places and I just sat and wept. They still had the same plate. I left a note on the car and drove back to my boyfriends.

I will have another someday...maybe just not today.

Completely unnecessary

"Dissolvant Doux" French for, "if you have to ask what that means than this is way to much for you to spend on polish remover".

Pony up girls! No one "needs" a designer bottle of nail polish remover. That would be like having Louis Vuitton toilet paper, Coach tissues or Kate Spade tampons (I bet they would be freakin' cool though!).

But some day I will have a lavatory like those you see in Victoria or Veranda Magazine and I will line my shelves with gorgeous and fabulous beauty concoctions based solely on their stunning packaging...just because, so there.

For now I will probably just cough up the $20 or so to have a tiny, shiny, pretty and pink bottle of Dior Polish remover, I will covet it and probably not even use it. It is the Holy Grail of removers,

I want it, I need it and dammit it shall be mine! Even if it is completely unnecessary.

My girl

So my girl will be 14 on May 21st, she is starting to fade a bit, it's scary. She has been a part of my life almost as long as my son has and he's just 20.

She still makes the "puppy face" when you say cookie, still nips at Archie ('cause that dog needs a helmet) and still knows that putting on her "jewelery" means we are going for a r-i-d-e.

Anyone who knows me, knows that my dog is the shiznit and she is worth every minute...so I thought I'd give my best girl Maggie-Jo a shout out here on the Petal.

Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind?

Finally, doctors are developing a pill that can help erase bad memories. Yes! Take two and forget to call me in the morning.
The method, using existing blood pressure pills, could be useful for weakening or erasing bad memories in people with post-traumatic stress disorder, the researchers say.
Some ethicists see problems, question whether such treatments begin to alter what it means to be human.
There's apparently a natural way to rid yourself of bad memories, too. A 2007 study involving brain scans found that test subjects had the ability to suppress specific memories at a particular moment in time through repeated practice.
First of all, is ethicist a paying position? I may want to apply. Secondly, there's an even more natural way of erasing memories -- it's called binge drinking. Unfortunately, I don't do that anymore. So, let's get down to the brass tacks: how many pills do I need to erase twenty years?