Meatball Sub and Magnolia

Its an old pic, but it's a turtleneck pic. It will all make sense.

Last night I had an awesome dream. I was sitting at a picnic table amongst a very crowded space lined up with endless picnic tables, packed with people. There was a woman next to me, and my sister across from me. I looked up in the sky and saw a flock of flamingos flying, They started flying towards us, and then swooped right over our heads, shooting back up into the sky. Then the woman next to me, who felt familiar, held my hand in a caring way, giving it a supportive squeeze.

I had to research the meaning because flamingos seem so bizarre, and out of context. It is an indication of collaboration, which I think sounds so absolutely promising after the dispirited dream I had a couple days back.

I dreamt the kids and I were living in a hotel room. It was spacious enough, and looked cozy and clean. I went grocery shopping, and was unsure what to buy, and would pick things up, and then put them back down, thinking we wouldn't be there long enough to make this or that. The dream ended with me vacuuming the carpet. My sight was fixed on the clean red carpet as I'd push the vacuum back and forth.
I woke up enthusiastic to crack the case of what it all could mean, and after starting my quest, I was confronted with some hard realities. Dreaming about being in a hotel room, indicates feeling transient in life, and vacuuming... wait for it... "refers to feelings of emptiness and signifies a loss of control."

And, it's true, gosh darn it!

Im not really an anxious person, and in the last month, Ive felt my heart slightly seize up, it feels like a clenched fist in there. I'm not sure what's going on. There could be number of factors. I used to run and do yoga a lot, and in the last month, haven't had the time to do either more than a handful of times.

In my stats class we talk about correlation and causation, and I show this scatterplot of life expectancy vs. internet usage in the population for every country. The relationship shows a positive trend, so as internet usage increases, the life expectancy increases. My ending point of the lesson is a ridiculous question, "So if we want to increase the life expectancy in Pakistan, all we need to do is increase the internet usage in the population, right?!"
Then there is a chorus or, "Of course not!!"
"And why? Because correlation doesn't mean causation, and, in this case, we have to recognize the lurking variables."

OH KAY. So what could be these lurking variables in the correlation between decreased exercise and increased anxiety. And this is the case for many people, correct? Don't a lot of stress advisors suggest, ramp up on exercise and mediation when feeling vexed by your anxiety and stress?
For starters, it's time. There is not as much time as there used to be to tend to these matters of personal pleasure. My day is jammed packed as it is, and I can't just lace up and hit the streets after tucking my kids in bed, or jump around my apartment, waking those kids and disturbing the peace of the apartment building in the late night or (not gonna happen) early morning. And, those stress advisors will agree, sleep is much more important than exercise.
There is not a reason to pull out the tiniest violin, I am quite happy being a mom and keeping up on my kids. Sure my son has a rough time staying out of the principal's office, and he's just four years old, but he's a good kid, and he is getting better at it. He just finds potty words and his saliva exhilarating.
The thought of becoming pregnant, compounding my responsibilities, has made me consider celibacy the safest route.
My ambitions are facing an uphill trek, and I am not ready to put down my hiking ski poles, and take off my itchy wool socks. When I wake up in the morning and look at the floor for what could be thirty seconds or fifteen minutes, I wax on my current position, and deliberate, is this really where I'm supposed to be? I see myself living abroad, with my kids, or moving to the East Coast, and it's as if Sac Town is where Im settling. Is it settling, or is it just the middle (possibly the beginning or, dare I hope, nearing the end) of a temporary state?

This week we are being confronted by women saying #metoo, and I think all women should congratulate themselves for sharing their stories and feelings, and you can congratulate yourself if you decided it's too personal to share, but reflected on the time from a more knowing state. Sadly, no woman or girl escapes it. When I read Farrow's article in The New Yorker on Weinstein, I was unfortunately comforted by how common it was for a lot of women to not understand how to categorize or label what happened to them. It was confusion, and their lack of resistance in order to just get the ball moving on the dominance, because when I look back on my own me-too has tags I often wonder, and like to think, I could have done something. After I heard about the boy from high school who ended up in prison, and how one night next to him, I should have probably poked his eye out, I considered it a bit of retribution, but I also felt a tinge sorry for him, undoubtedly sodomized by the even more contempt.
At the time too, I didn't even consider it as terrible as it seems in retrospect. Thats a tricky part about the abuse of power and the dominated, it's hard to comprehend the extent of the actions until the mind catches up to understanding. A different #metoo moment happened when I was attending preschool, and if you had asked me at six years old what the greatest offense that happened to me was, I probably would have described the excruciating event when my mother made me wear a turtleneck, convinced I would be strangled from the stretchy cotton neck brace.

My developed mind, also grew to love turtlenecks. Turtlenecks are like wearing a hug, which I guess is a nice comfort in a world where women have to compartmentalize being dominated as a way to progress in life. It's hard for most women to even acknowledge marriage is a form of indentured labor.

October is the month of the rosary and my brother let me know he's dedicating the month to me, and it sounds nice, and I appreciate the gesture, but it's actually quite horrifying. He is doing so because divorce is a mortal sin, and he doesn't see my soul as entering the pearly gates, but rather burning in hell.

When I woke up Sunday morning, I felt a void that needed to be filled by a delicious meatball sub and watching Magnolia. I got my sub, and made it twenty minutes into the film before I realized, I needed to tackle higher priority items on my to do list, but it was a nice mini vacation. There are tiny ways to get back to simpler times, like picturing a folding chair next to a lake or eating curly fries.

This weekend is not stamped with an Alicia on the Google Calendar, and I am actually able to do a lot of activities that will slightly unclench my chest, like run and yoga. I also signed up for an all-day writing class on Sunday in San Fran, this is the equivalent of the day-spa for me. It will be nice to be in the city, be around people who love to write and talk about shit other than the weather. There could be some collaboration... I'm thinking of those flamingos!! Even if not, theres always the prospect of a meatball sub and Magnolia, a consistent comfort.

Keeping Calm With Oprah

A couple weeks ago, the dean sat me down and asked if I would be temporarily full-time this term. It was great timing, and I nearly jumped out of my seat I was so excited to get started. With a couple days to prepare, I got a bit stressed. I like to think I'm cool with change, but I'm reactionary when overwhelmed, with all four burners going hot, and my instinct was to believe I can't manage it all, so something has to go. Instead of shutting down the cooktop, I decided to prioritize the top three; my kids burner has to always be on, I need to make money, so career is on, and personal development, including creative work and exercise, has to be on, at least slightly, otherwise I get the mean reds. The fourth burner seemed to be the only option to temporarily turn off.

I made a couple mistake in the quick classroom takeover. Like I passed out a pre-algebra test to my trig class. They looked at the first page, solving for the perimeter of a rectangle, and I realized I fucked up, and they'd not be taking a test that day. Then I really freaked out the pre-algebra class by giving them a quiz with fractions in it, not knowing they had yet learned fractions. The first mistake probably made the students giddy, getting an out-of-the-blue snow day. However, the second mistake, made the class nearly all faint in panic.
To add to my list, I caught the most horrific cold. I have 6 hours of solid lecturing on Mondays and Wednesdays, so after one stretch, I lost my voice. When I woke up in the morning, I couldn't squeak out the constant reminders my kids need to eat their breakfast and get dressed. They sit across from each other at the table, for what seems like three hours, eating their food one teeny bite at a time. Back and forth they talk to each other, "Sister..." and then "Brother..." And I all I could do was wave clothes at them, and motion for them to shovel the food in their mouth much faster.

Im lucky, their dad and I are still friends. Were not the besties we were, but it's ok. That was the saddest part of splitting, whats going to happen to my best friend? I was talking to him on the phone while I walked around the cafeteria trying to find something to eat that wasn't deep fried, and I found a decent looking triangle sandwich in plastic wrap. It wasn't anything special, and I gasped out loud complaining, "Six dollars for a fucking sandwich!"
He replied, "That seems pretty standard to me."
Then I laughed because he was right. Of course we can't talk about everything. And we'll just say, "Nope, don't want to talk about that," when something comes up thats disinteresting for various reasons to the other person.

I was talking with someone at work, and they continued to ask about my separation, and how angry and sad I should feel about things. Initially, they started out asking how I felt, but I suppose it wasn't ridden with enough bitterness, so they tried to drill into me until they struck oil; finding uncontrollable rage exploding from me. I didn't feed into it though, I just put on my thinking face, showing I understand their motives are driven from their own emotions. I'm lucky, I listen to so much Oprah Super Soul Sundays Podcasts, I have a good understanding that anger doesn't hurt anyone except yourself.

And it's not like I don't feel sad at times. After I laughed when he said six dollars seems reasonable for a sandwich, I felt sadness. And lately, after the kids and I get home, and I drop our million bags in the entry way, and walk into my room to take off my shoes, I frequently see a wet towel on the bed and I look at it ashamed. I would get really pissed at him over the last seven years for leaving wet towels on the bed after he showered, and it turns out, it was me all along and I never realized it.

This week I needed to dig myself out of a mountain of work, and so I turned off all the burners except work and kids. And damn was I productive. This afternoon, I came to a good break, left my new office, and went on a long run. I filled up on sunshine, birds, grass, falling leaves, and Oprah, of course. Afterward I felt amazing. The all consuming stress I felt last week is gone, and in retrospect, I should have been a bit calmer about things, confident I would be able to handle what I needed to do.

I'm sure Oprah's got a podcast for letting go of stress, and I'm really looking forward to listening to it! When Oprah says, "Don't stress!" I'm not sure why, but it makes complete sense. Don't-fucking-stress! Thanks, Oprah!

~We had a birthday celebration too~

Box to Check

Blog. Check.

I've been trying to get a blog done for weeks. I've jokingly blamed my lack of progress on Mercury in the past, but this time around, I think it must be due to the retrograde. It's like everything has been stopped in its tracks and I can't find the time to get them going again. Well, in the case of selling my house, that's not a lack of time, but a lack of control. This entire experience has been full of head-pounding-against-the-wall-stress, but after whats been at least three weeks of frustrating surprises, everything should be wrapping up by the end of the week, a few days after Mercury goes direct on September 5. HALLE-BLOODY-LUJAH.

Anticipating things would be done with the house by now, the kids and I moved at the beginning of August. And here, I can blame a lack of time, because the place is still a disorganized mess. Today I finally cleared the boxes out of the living room, but I have yet to figure out how to get the internet into the TV, so we watch through my laptop plugged into the TV. And that really defeats the purpose of letting the kids watch TV, which is so I can work on my laptop.

Two Sundays ago, I was unpacking boxes in my room while George was playing on the stoop in the backyard. It's sort of a courtyard or shared backyard for the complex, and it's enclosed by a locked gate, blocking access to the street. I walked back to check on him, and he was gone. I yelled for him, thinking he was playing down the side corridor by the dumpsters, and ran down there. He wasn't there. I fucking panicked. Barefoot, with Kinglsey's hand, we yelled his name, and then ran out the front of the apartment wondering if he was on the street.
I met a neighbor during this, and she started running around the block yelling his name. A woman across the street, started yelling his name. I was on my cell phone with 9-1-1, yelling for him, going in and out of our apartment, into the backyard and out the front door.

Then, I came in the house, and there he was with a huge smile, sitting on the couch. He told me he was hiding behind a stack of boxes. This is when Homer Simpson grabs Bart around the neck and shouts, "Why, I oughta," but since this was the absolute base case scenario from the five minutes of horror I just went through, I ran over to him and gave him the biggest hug I could and told him that he needs to yell back when I call his name. Then I went out in the street and yelled, "We found him!!" and all the people who were helping, stopped yelling his name, and went back to what they were doing.

The kids and I are back to school, thank goodness. I felt like the week before I was turning into a terror of a mother. I signed them up for all day school, even though I don't yet have a full time job, so it's eating a portion of my home sale profits, but I can't get shit done when they're here, and I have a lot of shit I need to get done. The extension teacher was described to me as "Mary Poppins," and she so is! She has a British accent, and looks like Julie Andrews.
The first week went well for George, who seems to get a bit too much pleasure out of pissing people off, and I was just about to exhale when the calls and emails started coming in. About defiance, not listening, being disruptive, and finally I had a sit down meeting with his teacher. My ex-partner was there, and eventually the teacher got the sense that George is probably going through a lot right now, with the divorce, move and new school, so this could be rooted in stress, and recommended a counselor. I wasn't quick to say, "But he was kind of like this last year..." But thats when his dad and I gritted our teeth, acknowledging we've been letting him get away with acting like a maniac for too long, so we have to reevaluate our discipline techniques.

Kingsley doesn't get in trouble at school, so she was really interested the day I picked them up and said, "We are heading home to go and have a talk, George. I got a call from your teacher today, and it was about you misbehaving in class." Her eyes doubled in size, and the drive home she was planning the rap session. First thing we'd do is get popsicles, then sit at the table and find out what happened at school. This is when I told her she needs to mind her own business.

I was paranoid the day before the meeting because I thought the teacher knew we were divorcing, and just wanted to have me come in and say it. I thought she was unnecessarily saying "your husband" over and over again. But she was really nice, and I'm just insecure about it all. I figured George's teacher knew because Kingsley's teacher knew. I had to check "separated" on both the kids' registration packets because it takes a lot of time and money to get to check the "divorced" box. The week earlier we were at back-to-school night and Kingsley's teacher gave us each a packet of paperwork. He sat next to me, heavy breathing through his mouth because his nose was all clogged up. Day two of a man cold, so he still felt terminal, and being at this event was sucking the tiny bit of life left in him. I had to keep sweeping his warm breath away from me, and suggested he put on one of those cootie blockers people wear in Japan. It's a doctor's mask, and it's not clear if the mask is put on because they have a cold and don't want to spread their germs, or if they just think everyone else is fucking disgusting and out to get them.


A week after the kids' school started, my school started. It's great to be back on campus, and shooting the shit with fellow adjuncts in our enormous shared office. It is literally the last place one should go if they actually have to get work done because everyone in there has motormouth, but I fucking love it. There is always someone to give input on anything.

Last week I went out to lunch with an English professor I met last year. We both write screenplays, and so we'd talk about them. He left for Costa Rica, and I didn't really cross paths with him much, but this term our schedules overlap, and I see him twice a week. This just means I will be getting even less work done at work. Midway through the term I tend to burn out on all the chattering though, and decide to do this work at home because I can get it done in a fraction of the time.

We went to lunch with the intention of discussing our writing projects, eventually he fished it out of me that Im split up, and then he told me about his divorces. We didn't even talk about our work because it was just getting-to-know-you conversation until I had to get back to meet up with another co-worker I'd ineffectively work with. The next day he text me some shit about our lunch, and I grimaced throwing the phone down, thinking, "Ugh, I think I have to tell him I have a boyfriend." I guess thats one nice thing about a wedding ring.

I filled out an application to substitute teach at a Catholic high school. That application didn't have a "separated" box, so I just went with the legal standing but afterward I thought that was a big mistake, and wished I checked the box I'd be checking when Mercury goes direct and were much more able to focus on filling out paperwork. The reason I checked "married" was because the follow up questions for single were a bit more difficult to pin down an answer.

I cyber detoxed the last three days, and today when I checked emails the high school wrote me, saying only the cover page came across in the fax! I was saved from having to tell them that I checked "married" although I'm not going to be. I gave the packet to my ex to have his admin fax it to the school, and she fucked it up, and I'm super happy she did. Tomorrow, I'll find the time to update that application from a more prospective outlook.

This last weekend I went to a sleepy coastal city and met my boyfriend's entire family. It was a lot of fun, really relaxing, and special because we don't usually have long stretches of time together. At the beach someone commented on "young love" as we walked back from the water holding hands, and isn't that just the most terrifying thought. I wonder if it was different before. If I felt like this when I fell in love then. It'd be nice to know there's a distinction, so I could feel some reassurance it won't end the same way.

Sometimes, after head-pounding-against-the-wall-stress-relief, when were lying around, he'll ask me, as I'm staring at the wall, "What are you thinking about?"
It's too much to get out, so I say, "nothing," but it feels good to rest on his shoulder while my thoughts swarm around in my mind, so next time, I think I'll say that.

Plucking Petals

I met someone, and he is fucking great. Maybe I manifested him by listening to Division four hundred times in the last couple weeks. I'm working on keeping my cool because I'm entering a losers game, and second, what if I'm being swayed by the wrong thing. Like the old saying goes, "Don't fall in love with the first good dick you sit on."
Although, I'm not sure why. It seems like the perfect person to fall in love with.

Division is a great album, and I think it's titled on the splitting of our lives. The most common occurs after people have kids, they have their life before kids, and their life after. But it happens in other ways, like in death. You have your life with a person, and then there is the divided life without that person. Or after falling in love with someone or falling out of love with someone. Significant experiences that create a spectrum, time with divided by time without.

The last month I've been packing up my house, and finding us a new place to live. Were moving downtown, and so I happily get to donate half our stuff. I was feeling stressed from the transition. So much is changing, but were not there yet. I know though, that my life a couple months from now will be majorly different from my life one year ago. Call it a new chapter, fresh start, or a shift in the continuity because once I'm there, I'll fall into the new rhythm.

I'm happy to be moving, but it's sad to leave my gym because of Friday yoga. The instructor is my life coach, and I cherish the hour I get to spend with her once a week. Last week, she led us in breathing, letting go of aggression, then she ended class by clarifying, over ambitiousness causes aggression in our lives, and that we must live in the present, and trust in our path.

The other night, I was talking with my new man, and things got serious with the mention of nervousness and anxiety from growing feelings for someone after a couple of weeks, and then my yoga teacher's words came to me. You can't worry about that kind of shit. If you live for tomorrow, you'll miss out on today. Live in the moment, there is no guarantee there will be a tomorrow or next month, so don't let then affect your happiness now. People come into our lives for a reason, and it's not clear why for a long time, so let it play out.

Since I have to keep my house impeccable and I have two messy kids, we are spending as little time as possible in our house. Every weekend we head up to Tahoe to stay with my parents. It's amazing to be here, and not only because the temperatures are much more inviting than Sacramento, but because the energy is infectious. People here are cheerful and friendly. Going on a walk or run, most people who pass are happy to wave hello.

I think it's from living close to nature. Listening to the aspen leaves shake in the wind, watching the sun set behind mountains, the smell of campfire, and walking barefoot in the forest has a positive impact on people. Being in a place where you see a bear every once in a while, and being astounded, we are amongst bears! Its amazing.

Lately, I've been running into people from high school. Before this made me anxious, but now I really enjoy it. It's nice to see were so similar to who we were fifteen years ago. I've met up with a lot of old friends this summer. Last week I hung out with my cousin. I showed him a picture of the guy Im seeing with his 12 year old son. My cousin asked, "Is he the one with the brown hair?" Shocked, I replied, "Yes, Tom! For fucks sake. I'm not Mary Kay Letourneau!" It's nice to see my friends, from then and now. Old friends, I won't say from a different life, these are friends for my entire life, they fall outside the division.

So for the next month, as we move into our new place, settle into a new school and job, there is no where else but the present I want to be, swimming in the lake, seeing my family and friends, hiking the mountains, and picking a flower to pluck its petals.

Thoughtful Gifts

Saturday morning I drove to San Francisco for a class. I put on Ed Sheeren, to see what it was about. Well, I fell into a swoon, and decided I'd listen to him the entire drive back as well. Sheerens got to be dating a new Victoria Secret model a night.

Last Friday night I went on a Tinder date with a widower. I was surprised when he said "widower" because I'm always expecting divorced. So I tried to make him laugh a lot, and most of the time he reacted by saying, "What?" I don't know if he didn't get my sense of humor or had a hearing problem. Sometimes I'm so charmed by myself though, it's ok to be out with someone who popped three valium.

At the end of the night we stood in front of an 80's corvette, and he pointed to it, and asked, "Is this your car?" Then I had a great laugh, and pointed to my extremely sensible car park in the least sensible spot, the dark empty corner of the parking lot.

This week I had the sads and in retrospect it was probably from the music and being out late. I did listen to the Supermarket Flowers song quite a bit. If only there wasn't the "bleach asshole" reference in "New Man" or I'd buy the album for my dad for father's day. He'll be so flabbergasted, the entire album with be minimized to those two words, and he'll put it in a stack of never-to-be-heard-agains.

My dad has been known to binge on romance songs. Like when he drove my sister and her friends to Chico, and seeing their closed eyes, assumed they were asleep, and listened to Aerosmith's "I Don't Want to Miss A Thing," on repeat for an hour.

My mom and dad are lucky in love. We went out to dinner last weekend, and I ordered bacon wrapped scallops. After I tried one, I insisted they try them. My mom refused to, saying she couldn't possibly eat any scallops besides the one my dad makes for her because his are THE best.

My mom has similar mannerisms to Titus Andromidon so the flap of the hand and flip of the hair is worth pressing the request. She then told us about her favorite movie, Splendor in the Grass, and turned up the dramatics; her eyes welled up, she looked toward the sky shaking her head, with her hands pressed to her chest. Now I know what to buy her for Christmas.

Sarturday night I decided to stay in and watch Netflix. It's hard to fall asleep when the house is empty, and I was tempted to call someone to come over so I wouldn't be alone. Tinder is great to go out and meet people, but at the same time it is a way to avoid having to just get used to being alone. For someone who is so enamored by herself, I don't understand why I need a person next to me while I laugh at my own jokes.

I stayed strong, and fell asleep easily because I was really tired from a week of excessive dating. I woke up often from weird dreams. In one dream, I walked past the front door, and then someone started banging on it. I opened it to find a hysterical woman. In another, there were strangers walking around my house. After more anxiety dreams about being home alone, I dreamed about a tiger.

I read a tiger could symbolize a powerful problem or fear that I avoid confronting. I decided to sell the house for two reasons; It was never my idea of a long term location, and we have an empty lot behind us that has turned into a place for the wondering drug addicts and boozers to live. My neighbor recently told me I can knock on his door if I ever hear a bump in the night, and he'll take care of it. Then I told him, "Thanks, but I have my alarm system." and he said, "Ashley! An alarm system isn't going to shoot em'. I have my gun!"

He is a really nice guy, and doesn't seem phased when my kids ask him horrifyingly rude questions, like why he has no teeth, or why his belly is so big. But when I hear him yelling over the fence at the people in the empty lot, I think, "Oh Chuck, why are you riling them up?!"

This weekend, I'm turning 35. We are visiting my parents to have a little soiree, and get out of the heat. I feel much better today. Probably because I caught up on sleep, limiting myself to one date this week. We brought in the happy tunes on the car ride today, and listened to Florence Shake it Out a bunch of times. Then Kiki requested Kelly Clarkson's Christmas album, we stuck on Underneath The Tree for like twenty minutes. I think she knew I needed it. I'll consider it my birthday gift from her. Kids have a way of knowing what their parents want.

Looking Up

A Tinder Story - Hungry For Love

Listen to my first story as a Tindress, about finding meaning in profiles and chats.

I always enjoy reading a ridiculous profile on tinder. “Oh, you’re soooooo sexual.” and I know that because in your profile you wrote that you love coffee, Boston Terriers and licking assholes.

That’s an actual thing now, licking buttholes for sexual pleasure. Or rather getting your butthole licked. I can’t imagine being the eater is anything less than torture followed up by a bout of typhoid fever.

What the fuck is going on in the world. I suppose, it’s one of those things, you don’t know how good it actually is until you try it. Like going Gluten Free.

I’ll pass. In fact I should write that in my profile, “I don’t eat shit holes. and I don’t want anyone to eat mine.”

Profiles are riddled in secret code, and I’m starting to translate some of the terms.

Like “seeking a partner in wanderlust” really means unemployed.

And, polyamorous, translates directly to butt-fucking ugly.

I guess beautiful people don’t need to say, “I enjoy sex,” its redundant. Like saying, “I drink water and sleep to survive.”

Instead of saying, “I’m a player,” the pretties make it known straight away with their texts. They send this message, “hoping to watch a movie with you tonight.” at 11pm on a Wednesday.

There is also a certain type of meat head who likes to write in their profile, “I superlike on accident.”

Superliking is when you swirl rather than swipe right, and it can happen on accident easily. But when I accidently superlike someone I feel like I am giving them a confidence boosting pat on the back.

So for someone to explicitly state, “Don’t flatter yourself with my superlike,” it irritates me! I superlike them, just in case they ever start a chat with me I can let them know, “Don’t flatter yourself that anyone is flattering themselves with your stupid ass superlike.”

I have a strict swipe left policy for anyone in their twenties for two reasons, one they could fall in love with me, and two, which is far worse, I could fall in love with them as they are just getting going on life, and won’t be set in a career for ten years. I love Top Ramen, but also love how it’s a choice.

However, there are two good reasons for swiping right on twenty somethings. They will fulfill the prescription for sexual healing ,with unlimited refills. The other reason, is they’re flexible schedule. Most of the time, I don’t know when Im getting a night off, so its nice to get a reply when I message, “I have a two hour window, starting in 15 minutes. Want to watch movie?”

Text chats can get boring, and witty comments loose their cunning charms when they aren’t read quickly! It’s like giggling to a joke twelve hours after someone said it.

I’m texting with a strong and silent type, and he seems cool. I usually talk about food, and after sending him what seemed like a dissertation on almond croissants, he wrote back, “Now I’m hungry.”

Well, I know what that means. It’s similar to “watch a movie” but involves less foreplay and possibly a little booty hole snack.

Im getting good at translating, and I’m thinking of refining my profile. It will read something like this “Looking for someone to watch movies with twice a week. And afterward wants to eat Top Ramen and watch a movie (for real)s. Butt munchers need not apply.”

Then I’ll add, “And, I super like on purpose.”

Selfie Stick

Im going to Tokyo the first week of August. I've never traveled alone, so I have some concerns, but mostly all of them will dissipate after I buy a selfie stick on Amazon for fifteen bucks. The remaining concern is that I will travel across the globe, and not utter a word besides arigatō to another human being for seven days. But I really don't actually believe this could happen. Besides, I always have Tinder if I'm overcome with loneliness.

I feel pretty ballsy going over there on my own. Its a bonafide Stella Got Her Groove back vacation. I am impressed by this newfound confidence. I attribute some of it to watching kids movies and reading a lot of kid books, all full of confidence building propaganda for young children that I'm reaping the rewards of. Today we watched Rock Dog. We've watched it already quite a few times, and each time I'm left bathing in an I-can-do-anything afterglow. Listen to Glorious, the uber inspirational song from the movie, it's as heart warming as thinking of your grandmother's cooking.

Maybe I was influenced by Rock Dog in other ways, since the cartoon is set in Tokyo. Rock and Roll park is based on Yoyogi Park, and while researching things to do in the city, I found out about the Rockabilly subculture of Tokyo.

I recently complained to my ex that the rockabilly culture Sacramento clings to is tired, and contributes to the city being voted the second ugliest in the US. He tried to convince me hipsters live in midtown. Well, whenever I go down there, all I see are Bettie Page lookalikes and dudes with cigs rolled up in the t-shirt sleeves. It's a Grease reenactment. Sac Town is proving some under the radar coolness here.

Two years ago we went to Vancouver for vacation. We had a great time. The last day we walked to Granville Market Island, but instead of using the ferry boats mentioned in the guides, we decided we'd walk over the bridge. This added at least an hour on the walk, and gave me chest grabbing anxiety thinking my daughter was about to jump out of the stroller and step onto a very busy freeway.
When we arrived, we needed to eat and found a delicious restaurant to relax in before walking through the market, then we smartly took the ferry back, making the walk to the hotel much shorter and more enjoyable.

At the hotel we realized we left Kiki's treasured blanket at the restaurant. We called the restaurant and they said they found it and put it at the hostess stand for us. We decided to get it in the morning. Very unwise because we never considered the restaurant wouldn't be open at 9am. To avoid listening to my daughter scream and cry the entire trip back to Sacramento, I planned to lie to her and say blankie was in the suitcase, and then let the cat out of the bag when we were safe within our house.
The strangest thing occurred. We got in the cab, and told the driver our predicament, and how we'd wanted to go to this restaurant to pick up the blanket but they are closed, and the driver said, "Oh, my son works there. I will call him."
So he called his son, who was at the restaurant doing prep work. We drove there and blankie was was returned to my daughter's arms. It was a magical turn of events, that everyone benefited from because we tipped the cabby in a euphoric state of gratitude.

I keep this story in mind as I plan my trip. There are some coincidences that are too perfect, orchestrated to amaze. The trip is going to be awesome, and I'm looking forward to whats in store for me in the city of the rising neon sun. If I get nervous, I have a library of confidence boosting books to read through, like Little Critter's, All By Myself. But I don't need it yet, I'm too excited! Arigatō very much!