But What Do You DO All Day?

I admit it.  I'm lazy.

Now I'm not always lazy.  People who know me know that my house is always pretty presentable.

My husband and I very seldom have to turn our underwear inside out because I neglected to do laundry.

My yard is pretty well-tended.  And I am a fairly decent cook.  I also make time for quality time with my dogs.  They are both walked, played with, bathed and brushed regularly.

Sheets are changed on all four beds once a week.  I keep up on current events, have lunch with friends, and follow my favorite sports teams. 

On a more personal level, I have my hair cut once a month and get manicures and pedicures weekly.  I enjoy long bubble baths daily.  I also do a little shopping from time to time.  And I attend mass regularly.  (Okay, that's a lie.  I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.)

I take care of my husband's clothing.  I plan meals.  I rearrange furniture.  I visit with neighbors.  I talk on the phone, listen to music,  and spend time on the internet.  I peruse ebay for "deals" and craig's list for "chance encounters". 

Late afternoons, I tend to sit in my kitchen with my feet propped up and either watch television or read.  This gives me an hour or two of "me" time every day. Sometimes I watch CNN, but sometimes I watch reality shows.  I seldom concentrate on either, but it's background noise and I find it relaxes me. 

When Alex gets home from work, it's back to the treadmill.  Feed the dogs.  Walk the dogs.  Fix dinner, do dishes, discuss our respective days.

Alex asked me one time "Why don't you go and work with deaf kids or something?"  (Yes, from the film "Scarface".) 

No wonder I feel tired.

The Problem With Profiling

White men have sexually harassed me on public transportation.  Most of these men have been fairly young.  More than one young white male has rubbed his erect penis against me on crowded buses.  Twice, white men have exposed themselves to me. Still I do not expect that all young white men are going to sexually assault me.

We know that people from the Middle East have committed terrorist acts.  So have people from all parts of the world including Europe and the United States. I know a lot of people from the Middle East and I can assure you that they are not terrorists.

Young black men do commit crimes.  (Men, young and old, and of every race commit crimes.  So do women.)  But I really don't believe that most people are criminals.

I know some gay people are pedophiles.  It happens in the straight community as well.  I had many straight men behave inappropriately with me when I was under 18.  I never had a gay woman behave inappropriately with me when I was a teen.

Some Mexicans are here in the US illegally.  Some are also criminals.  Most Mexicans are here in the US quite legally and are not criminals.

My black gay girlfriend was talking to another friend of mine, a Mexican contractor, this week.  They were both carrying on about Chinese landlords and how terrible they are.  I have had Chinese landlords and found them to be just fine.  (Alex and I would not have been able to buy our first house if our wonderful Chinese landlord hadn't helped us by loaning us money for the down payment.) 

I think listening to my friends talk about how tight with money, what bad drivers, how superstitious Chinese people are really made me think.  Here are two people, a black gay woman, and a young Mexican man and I would figure that they would both realize how wrong and ridiculous profiling is.  Obviously, I expect too much.

Profiling is wrong and dangerous.  Someone innocent could end up dead.  Wait.  Someone innocent did end up dead.

This Is So Not My Happy Face!

You do not want to see this expression on my face.

What follows can be really ugly.  I don't "lose it" very often, but when I do, it is far from pretty.

Even my dog, Crazy Zoe, knows to cower if she sees me giving her this face.  She instantly drops to the ground and quivers.

See that solemn expression can turn ugly in a heart beat.  When it turns ugly, man and beast better grab their shit and run.  You can generally tell I'm not happy when my lip starts to curl up and my eyes get hinky.

On Sunday night, we took Ziva and M back to their hotel in San Francisco after dinner.  I had pushed a large bag of plums into their hands as they were leaving our house.  In San Francisco, Alex parked in front of their hotel and we all got out of the car to say our goodbyes.

I was hugging Ziva and on the verge of tears because she was leaving.  A big stoned and dirty homeless man was bothering Alex and M.  I saw Alex put some change in his cup.  The homeless guy was being obnoxious and telling M to "Give me some of them plums."  I really didn't want that man to touch any of us or our belongings.  I took the bag of plums from M, opened it, and took out one plum.  I gave it to the homeless man who immediately shouted "Naw, I want two plums."

A slight explosion went off in my head.  I was going to cause great bodily harm to this belligerent son of a bitch if he didn't get the hell away from us right that moment.  I saw Alex get really tense out of the corner of my eye.  I saw Ziva look a little nervous too.  I was ready to go all  ghetto on this man.  I was within two seconds of taking off my stiletto and shoving the heel up the guy's ass.

San Francisco has more than its share of homeless.  Most of the people are polite in their requests for some help.  I usually dig in my purse for change or for a dollar.  I have given a lot of money to homeless people over the years.  Sometimes I smile vaguely and say "sorry" as I walk on past.  Most of the homeless population are polite even if I don't "help them out".  They tell me to have a nice day or say "God bless you." and as far as I'm concerned, that's fine.

But having some angry jacked up mofo trying to scare and intimidate young visitors sent me into a rage.  I shook with anger half the way home.  I'm very glad I didn't have some kind of a weapon because I would have sprayed pepper spray in that dude's face so fast it would have made his head spin.

I love San Francisco.  I hate seeing people foul the City's image and reputation.  If this was an isolated case it wouldn't have made me so angry, but it happens all the time.  The City needs to take a close look at how detrimental the "tolerant" policy can be when it comes to aggressive panhandlers.

Fortunately, the homeless man was not so far gone that he ignored the warning I gave him.  He moved on.  Good thing too.  I was ready to puncture him with my stiletto shoe.

The Blue Glass Box

As the crow flies, she traveled about 5,363 miles to get here.  Of course, we all know that airline travel is never really "as the crow flies".

The trip from Turku, Finland to San Francisco, California took almost 24 hours.  

I met Ziva several years ago when I discovered her blog, "Ziva's Inferno". I was dazzled by her intellect and her writing talent.  Ziva has almost a magical quality to her rhetoric as well as a wicked sense of humor.  She's sophisticated, witty, and sometimes a little bit naughty.  What's not to like!

I knew Ziva's (then) partner "M" traveled to the US on business once in a while, and I begged Ziva to make the trip with him.

I was thrilled and shocked when I got an email from Ziva saying she would be in San Francisco a couple of days ago.  We set a date for Sunday evening to have dinner.  Alex and I both decided to bring Ziva and M here to our home, rather than just meeting them in the City at a Bistro.  (When I'm traveling, I get very tired of dining out and long for something "home cooked".)  Alex decided he would make his famous Shrimp Creole for dinner and I would contribute a wilted spinach salad.  (And, of course, chocolate torte for dessert!)

We drove to the City to pick Ziva and M up at their downtown hotel.  They were waiting for us out front when we arrived.  I was thrilled to finally meet this gorgeous young woman and her now husband M.  By the way, they are both exquisitely beautiful and they make a perfect couple!  M is auburn haired with sparkly eyes and a wonderful smile.  Ziva has almost waist -ength shiny tresses and looks like a movie star with a smile that makes your heart lurch!  Wow! 

Before I met Ziva, I never really thought about Finland one way or the other.  Now I'm wondering how soon I could get there!  We had a fantastic evening and the dinner was lovely.  I was delighted that both Ziva and M are 'dog friendly' and Zoe had an almost pathological penchant for Ziva.  We had to push Zoe away several times to keep her from showing so much sloppy affection to Ziva.

Unfortunately, the evening had to come to a close much too early.  Alex had to work this morning so we took Ziva and M back to their hotel about 9:30 so that Alex could get some sleep.  Before they left, Ziva gave me a gorgeous blue glass box.  It really is a special piece.  I knew immediately that I wanted to put my pearls in that gorgeous blue box.  Now I have one place to go for two of my most precious "things".

Not to be remiss, I must add that Ziva and M also brought us little boxes of wonderful Finnish candy.  Now, I had heard from a number of well respected sources that this Fin candy was "different".  I actually liked it!

After leaving the couple off at their hotel, I had tears in my eyes.  I hate it when people I love leave me.  I know they'll be back one day, but it hurts none the less.  We had given M a bobble head doll of Ryan Vogelsong (a San Francisco Giant's pitcher), and a big plastic bag of plums that had just been picked off our plum tree.  I wish I could have given them the ability to stay with us for a longer time.

Alas, with Ziva, a longer time would never be enough.  She's the kind of girl you can never let go of completely.  The glow of her is still in my heart and always will be.

Tricks For Screwy Teeth

Okay, my teeth are fine now. 

But, there is a trick to use if you ever have the kind of problem I did with my Bugs Bunny temporary veneers. 

This trick also works like a charm if you have red or swollen eyes. 

Are you ready?

Girls, show some bosoms!  Nobody even looks at your teeth or eyes if you are flashing a bit of bosom.  This trick is also good for bad hair days, pimples on your nose, or even if you have crossed eyes.  Believe me, the guy at the store won't be wondering about the pimple on the end of your nose when you are at the check out counter.  He will never notice that your teeth look like those of a seriously deranged rabbit.

My dentist yesterday seemed surprised that I had been concerned and unhappy about my very long, to the right slanted front teeth for 10 days.  She said, "I thought they looked fine."  (Never trust a dentist to tell you the truth.)  The dentist also told me that the porcelain veneers would look perfect.  (I didn't trust her with that one either.)  Much to my surprise, (and delight), that part was true.  They do look fine.  The color is perfect as it matches all my natural teeth.  One of my fears is that I would have two snowy white chicklets replacing my two front teeth.

I have had a recurring nightmare for years.  I'm out somewhere in public and I bite into an apple.  My two front teeth come out in the apple.  There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.  I'm horrified realizing that my teeth are just "gone".  As a result of this dream, I make sure to never eat apples in public, okay I don't eat apples at all now. 

Apples are bad in a lot of ways.  Look at Adam and Eve.  If it hadn't been for an apple, we'd all be running around naked in the Garden of Eden being pain free and happy all the time.  This all sounded a bit strange to me actually.  If it was true about Adam and Eve and the Snake and the apple, why isn't the first commandment "Thou shalt not eat apples"?

Now all I have to do is pray I don't lose these veneers in my sleep and swallow them.  I really can't afford to do that.

Nor can I afford to buy a bunch of new low cut sweaters.

A Little Long In The Tooth (Literally)

I had a bad day.

Last Wednesday, I bit into something and chipped one of my front teeth.  I made an appointment for the dentist that afternoon, not wanting to wait and make it worse.

My dentist is a lovely young Vietnamese woman.  She fixed me up like new (actually better than new), but she also admonished me that my two front teeth were "worn" and they would continue to chip unless we did something about them.

I was curious about what she recommended because she had at one point tried to steer me toward veneers.  I had been fairly clear that I really had no interest in what she called "a movie star smile".  (To me, the overly white and perfect teeth look like chicklets.)  My dentist again mentioned veneers made of porcelain and assured me she could match my existing natural teeth in color.  This would be a very simple process and would solve my problem of thin and worn front teeth.  I thought about it for a moment and said, "All right!  Let's do it." 

I went in last Friday and she made a mold (ugh) of my teeth and the proceeded to file the teeth down to about half of their normal length.  This required that I get a shot to numb me and I really didn't expect the shot either.  (This was a simple procedure, right?)  When I saw that the teeth were now munchkin sized, I got a little scared but she assured me that she would make me some temporary veneers until the real ones got back from the lab in about 10 days.

There was another mold taking event that included acrylic stuff that hardened too much in my mouth, got stuck,  and had to be chipped out.  By this time, I am not much of a happy camper.  My dentist was sweating and swearing in Vietnamese by this time because the mold goo and acrylic didn't want to come off my teeth.  I was going into full blown panic attack mode.  She tried to reassure me by saying "Oh this is nothing!", but I was far from reassured.  I could visualize the real teeth breaking off completely with the chips of acrylic. 

Finally, she got the stuff off my teeth and she announces she has to make another mold.  I asked her if I couldn't just go with the munchkin teeth for two weeks and she said no.

The two hour process was finally over I thought.  I sat up and she handed me a mirror.  I had two big bunny teeth, about twice as long as my original teeth staring back at me in the mirror!  I started laughing (but it was a bit hysterically).  She asked me if they were too long and I snorted saying "Are you kidding?  Look at these things!".  (I think my laughing scared her a little bit!)  She said, "Yeah, they looked shorter when you were lying down.)  I was sputtering with laughter and thinking I was going to wet my pants.

The dentist filed the teeth down a little and said "How about now?".  I took a look and said "Great!" although they were far from great.  I now had two long chicklet teeth that both slanted slightly to the right.  (My original teeth were not crooked.)  I asked her if the veneers would look better than this and she swore that they would.  I simply couldn't stand one more minute in the dentist's chair so I said they were fine.

I got home and showed Alex and CT.  Both of them said "Oh they look fine!"  What liars those two are!  I looked like Jessica Rabbit or Bugs Bunny.  One or the other. 

I was blurting out my tale of woe about the munchkin teeth and such when Alex made me feel so much better by saying, "It's just like getting plastic surgery.  You just can't go get a new nose and say that you want your old nose back!" 

Now that really helped.

A Kiss Is Just A Kiss

Isn't that romantic?

Just a little kiss between friends.  That's fine.

I remember my first non-family kiss when I was about 10 years old.  A boy kissed me on the lips.  I was pretty much unmoved by the kiss.  In fact, I thought it rather a strange thing for him to do.

When I was 13, I had a boyfriend who was 16, soon to be 17.  Jim had his own car and was going to be a senior at the high school I would attend in the fall as a freshman.

Jim was a tall blond guy and most of the girls I knew were crazy about him.  He had an easy manner and won over my mother almost immediately.  When he asked her if he could take me to the movies, she said yes.  However, her caveat was that we had to walk to the movies as she didn't want me in a car with a boy.  Actually, I think my mother was so delighted that I had stopped being a total tomboy that she would have agreed to letting me date any male no matter what his age.

I thought the guy was okay, but I wasn't enchanted all that much.  Jim was about 6'4" tall and since I was 5'3", I thought we looked sort of stupid together.  As we walked down the street toward the movie theater, Jim told me he had parked his car around the corner and we could take it and Mom would never know.  I told him no.  Either we walked or I would just go back home.  (I didn't lie to my mother.  Okay, yeah, I lied to her but I didn't want to get in the car with this guy.)

We watched the movie and he tried to hold hands during it.  Our hands were sticky from popcorn and it was gross.  We walked back to my house after the show and talked and laughed a little.  I really wasn't sure what the hell he wanted from me.  I was about to find out.

Jim came up on the front porch with me and I got my key out.  All at once he bent over almost in half and kissed me!  No big deal, right?  Excuse me!  Big fat deal.  The guy stuck his tongue in my mouth.  I was paralyzed with horror and disgust!  Excuse me?  I mean, I knew about how babies came to be and all, but nobody had warned me that guys like to stick their tongues in girl's mouths!

Jim was my boyfriend for the next year.  He drove me to school and home from school every day and bought me lunch too.  That made him a pretty good boyfriend.  Of course, we did get to go out in his car eventually and he spent most evenings just trying to get me to "park" somewhere with him.  I really had no interest in French kissing and getting my boobs felt, (not with him anyway). 

I was madly in love with Jim's best friend, Gene.  Gene could stick his tongue in my mouth any time he wanted.  Alas, it was not to be.