Knocked Up and Prickly

This is something of a miracle.

For the last 10 years, my ugly cactus has gotten pregnant once a year and had one gorgeous but short-lived bloom.

The cactus usually gets one large pink flower that lasts for 24 hours per year. The rest of the time, it's a hateful looking plant with all its sharp thorns and weeds that somehow manage to grow in there with the thorns. I've thought about throwing it in the green recycle bin more than once.

I don't even know where the cactus came from since I am not a fan. It was probably here when we moved in ten years ago. I think there is something alien-like about cactus plants. I try to carefully pluck the weeds out of it once in a while, and I have bled profusely every time I attempt the pruning. I swear these pricks are purely evil.

This year, a miracle birth occurred. The plant developed nine long phallic looking protrusions with red tips. About two days later, we had a multiple birth. This was the first time I've ever seen more than one flower appear on it.

I'm wondering if this has to do with global warming. It could also be the result of California's extreme rainfall this year. Of course, it could also be related to hyperactive sexuality in the planter. (I'm just glad that my own occasional hyperactive sexuality never resulted in anything remotely similar.)

Whatever it was, the showy display is over now for another year. I guess I can't toss the plant now, can I?

"You Could Go Work With Blind Kids Or Something"

My husband, Alex, left on a trip today.

Before he left, he asked me "What are you going to do while I'm gone, Honey?" I looked at him and said "I'm going to put on my robe." He sort of laughed and said, "Other people think you're kidding when you say that, but I know better." Uh huh. He does. I just looked at him.

Then Alex says "You could go work with blind kids or something." I nearly fell on the floor laughing. Where does he get this stuff?

Don't get me wrong. Working with blind kids would be a noble thing to do, I guess. But why blind kids? I have never expressed a desire to go work with blind kids.

Finally, Alex clued me in. That was a line that Al Pacino used to his wife in the movie "Scarface". Pacino's wife sat around all day doing coke and he said she should go work with blind kids or something.

Very funny, Alex!

The Bad Decision Queen

Congressman Anthony Weiner has nothing on me.

I sort of feel for the guy. Yeah, he did something stupid and impulsive. I've done stupid and impulsive things all my life.

Keeping explicit "love notes" from my boyfriend at the home I shared with my husband is one good example. (No, no, not this husband, another one.)

Making out with my Pakistani English Professor three days before I got married was another little judgment lapse. (But I wasn't married yet, and no, not this husband either.)

Getting a boyfriend drunk and taking all of his money when he passed out was probably not the nicest thing I ever did either. All I can say is that it was stupid and impulsive and I was bad. It was nobody's fault that I did bad things except my own.

Inappropriate emails! Oh Good Golly, Miss Molly! I've sent my share. And I've received my share too. I can't claim to have sent photos of my crotch, unless you count the occasional upskirt.

Now on the other side of the coin, I help people who need help. I am good to little kids and old people. And I love my dogs.

Anthony Weiner has been a shining star in his efforts to help the downtrodden and he has done a lot for the people who put him in office. I saw the famous photo of him in his jockey shorts, and honestly, I don't think it was that big a deal. Was it being stupid? Yeah, probably. But give me someone stupid about naughty photos who tries to do the right thing about the important stuff any day of the week. Weiner's career may be over because of this mess, but I hope it isn't.

He's a good guy.

Nigerian Sailors!

My cleaning lady Maria has a daughter.

Marina is 20 years old and a Jennifer Lopez look-alike. She's a shy, charming and lovely person.

Marina works at the Exchange at Coast Guard Island in Alameda. We saw her last weekend and she told us about being "harassed" by Nigerian sailors currently posted at Coast Guard Island. Apparently, these sailors are on a ship given to the Nigerian Navy by the U.S. Coast Guard.

We were concerned about Marina. She seemed to really feel that the sailors had been overly aggressive in trying to talk to her and wanting to take her photo. Marina is a very protected young woman and not used to obvious attention from men despite her beauty.

Today, Alex and I went to Coast Guard Island to run the dogs and pick up some supplies at the Exchange. While we were there, we saw dozens of young Nigerian sailors walking around. I am not sure I've ever seen better looking men! They are very attractive people.

While I can appreciate Marina feeling intimidated by them, all I can say is that I'm not sure why. These guys may get a little close to you when they talk to you, but so what! They may ask to take your photo and tell you that you are pretty, but so what! They are normal and healthy young men.

Two of the Nigerian guys were coming on base as we were leaving today. They were talking and laughing with each other as they walked. I grinned and waved at them and they grinned and waved back at me as we passed! Oh, no. I have no problem with Nigerian sailors at all! Actually, I'm kind of delighted to have them here in Alameda for a while. They certainly brighten up the landscape!

I've always been a sucker for a uniform.

The Road To Hell

It started with a good idea.

The 3-day holiday weekend! Total bliss! Well, except for the fact that I was home alone gazing out the window at heavy fog with no plans whatsoever.

This was during one of my infrequent "dry spells". Or maybe I should say I was "between engagements". Whatever the case, I had just ended a relationship with Mr. Wrong and the next Mr. Wrong had not yet appeared.

The call from Cassie came early on Saturday morning. "What are you doing for the weekend?" Cassie lived in Sacramento, a couple of hours away from San Francisco. I responded with my plan to sleep late, watch television, and read books. Cassie said, "Why don't you come up here? We can sit by the pool, work on our tans, drink wine, gossip, and generally just relax." I told her that sounded great, but without a car, I really didn't think I could do it.

"Don't be silly!", Cassie said. "Take the Greyhound!" If she had told me to take the space shuttle, I wouldn't have been more surprised. Although I was in my early 30's at the time, I had never taken a Greyhound bus. I had seen those buses on the road, but I'd never actually even thought about going anywhere on one. It just seemed slightly seedy to me.

Cassie went on to describe the 80 degree weather, the cute guys that just moved into her apartment complex, and all the joys I would not be experiencing in cold and foggy San Francisco. "Oh, come on, Linda! Don't be so prissy!"

I told her I would call and see about schedules and get back to her. I called Greyhound and I was told the price and the schedule. I decided to make this an adventure and just do it. (I could have written the Nike slogan at that point in my life.)

Rather than getting "packed" for a trip, I decided I would just take a Macy's paper shopping bag and throw my things in there. I didn't need much. I packed a bikini, underwear, shorts and a tank top along with a big handful of tampons (because you just never know, or at least I never really knew) and my cosmetics and toothbrush! I also brought a couple of books to read on the trip. I think I was out the door within a half an hour.

The Greyhound station in San Francisco is in an area called "The Tenderloin". It is a very blighted neighborhood. Hookers and pimps all over the street outside of the terminal. There were several flat-eyed cops who looked at everyone funny, even me. Inside the terminal, I quickly found the ticket window and got my round-trip ticket for Sacramento. The bored clerk pointed me in the direction of my bus and I walked through some pretty shady looking characters to get there.

There was already a line formed and I got in line right behind a couple of young sailors. The sailors were a little intoxicated, but not really rude. The bus arrived and we got on. I was in the next to last row with the sailors in the seats behind me. I put my bag on the floor and opened my book.

Since I was at the back of the bus, a lot of people came past me when they wanted to use the restrooms. (It's a two hour trip, people. Pee before you leave home!) Of course, I think some of them went into the bathroom to shoot their heroin. This was sort of a scary cast of characters.

The sailors were having a bitch session behind me and they were also drinking beer. I could hear the "pop tops" being snapped every few minutes.

It was only a two hour trip but it seemed a lot longer. We finally arrived in Sacramento and I stood up and grabbed my bag and got in the aisle to depart the bus.

I was shocked when the bottom of my bag opened up and all of my "stuff" rolled up the aisle in front of me. Tampons spewed everywhere, little items of clothing landing in the muck on the floor, my pitiful toothbrush laying there. I guess the sailors had been drinking their beer and leaving the cans on the floor under my seat where the spillage caused the shopping bag to fail.

A very kind gentleman gave me a plastic bag and I grabbed my panties and swimsuit and cosmetics bag and toss them in. I ignored the tampons all over the floor.

A young man's voice, one of the sailor's, said "Miss, here's your toothbrush!" I said "Oh thank you." (Yeah, sailor boy, I'm really going to use an toothbrush that came off a Greyhound bus floor.)

I wasn't even at the swimming pool or in the sun and I was already having an adventure! Lucky me!

That is the first, last, and only time I ever rode on a Greyhound bus.

Elephants On A Bridge

An elephant never forgets.

I think I've heard that all my life. My elephants have seen so many things. They were around for my first marriage, the birth of my first child, and all the events that followed in my life.

These elephants cost me an entire paycheck when I was 17 and right out of high school. I found them at an antique shop and fell in love with them. They are carved onyx and have ivory tusks and I was told that they were very old when I bought them.

The children that came into my life, my own and others, broke some of the ivory tusks off while playing with the elephants. I was sorry that happened, but if something must remain untouched, I see no reason to have it. The elephants have a small post on their feet and they can be taken off of the bridge. I see the appeal of touching them.

When I was younger, I didn't realize that elephants must always face the main entry door in a home. If you make sure that you position them that way, the wrong people won't come in. My ignorance cost me dearly.

There was the husband that was a disaster. Then there was the next wrong choice in a partner. Then there was the thief. Then there was the policeman and his handcuff games. I could go on, but I won't.

When I finally realized how the elephants should be placed, my whole life got a lot better. I stopped having the wrong people come into my home.

The man that looked good and had game still called me with his evil but appealing suggestions, but I didn't invite him to come and visit. The neighbor woman who wanted to gossip about other neighbors was kept on the porch. The out-and-out goofballs just stopped knocking at the door.

That's not saying I gave up all of my wicked companions, but I just went to their place instead.

It's My Nature

Yes, I know it's 2:00 PM.

My husband is flying home today and I should be dressed for his arrival. Why am I still laying around in pajamas and a bathrobe? Because it's my nature.

I have been on the phone with my favorite cousin in Oklahoma for the last three hours. Her name is Kelly and her mother is my late mother's sister. They had bad tornadoes near where Kelly lives last night but that wasn't what we talked about. We talked about our restless natures. She and I are very restless women. There's this weird dichotomy of boredom and anxiety that messes us up. Both of our mother's had the same affliction.

We both are very moody and very flighty as well, sometimes literally. We have gotten on airplanes to meet up numerous times, with no particular plan at all. When we run away from home, we run to each other.

Now I'm feeling stressed because my husband is on his way home and I'm not dressed or made up. (Not that I really need the war paint since I am so naturally cute and all.) I have pulled nothing out of the freezer for dinner because I don't want to. When my husband travels, I get mad about it. I know he has to work, but the anger is just there anyway.

If I ever get reincarnated, I hope I can come back as a cow. I would love to have a cow's nature. I would love to be placid. I would love to move slowly and just wait to be milked. And I could be nice and fat and everyone would think I looked great. (Wait, I am not skinny now. Never mind.)

I feel like a fat female tiger who has been put in a cage and I don't like this feeling. I'm angry, nervous, tired, sloth-like, depressed, anxious, unhappy and fat.

It's my nature.