I used to look like that?

I was at my Mom's work on Friday using the fax machine and visiting for a bit. I don't like to stay too long because a law office is typically a busy place, but being Friday things were a bit more relaxed than normal. I took a minute to look around my Mom's office to see what embarrassing photos of me she had hanging up. I used my cell phone camera to get shots of a few of them to share with you, though they are kinda blurry. Some of you knew me back when these photos were taken. The first shot is my Dad and I at the St. Lucy's Freshman Father Daughter dance, early Fall 1994. I was really into silver back then, and instead of wearing a traditional corsage, I opted instead for a wreath made of white baby roses, silver ribbon and baby's breath.
I'd also like to point out that even though I was not allowed to wear my silver Doc Martens with it because it would have been "inappropriate", I was permitted to leave the house in a thin, satin, spaghetti strapped dress without a size 36C strapless bra on. Since I had finally grown out my perm and my bangs and wanted to start fresh, I also had super short hair here. In fact, at the time, the back of my head was shaved underneath my over-gelled bob haircut, which, ironically enough, meant that I had to keep my hair this length for a while until the shaved part caught up enough for me to grow my hair out. It took about a year and a half for it to get to the length shown next.
The second shot is towards the end of my sophomore year at Bonita, so I'd say Spring of 1996.
By this time, I think I had learned to wear bras with formal dresses, only I didn't care if the straps showed. Much to my dismay, I was a D cup here, so going bra-less was not an option anymore. My hair covered the straps, so it was OK. I convinced my Mom to buy me this dress because I told her I would wear it to Prom, even though I was only a sophomore. I had no intention of going, I just wanted the dress, which was black velvet and went down to my feet and had a slit to just above my knee down one side. This showed off the fishnets and black Doc Martens I wore underneath it. By now my Mom had stopped fighting with me about my clothes and decided to let me wear them as I saw fit, since we had spent so much money on them anyway. This pose, shoulders rolled forward, arms folded over my chest and stomach, and a sullen, jaded stare, was typical of me most of the time back then, whether posing for a photo or just standing around. Body language experts would have all kinds of fun with that photo. Back then, between the mostly black clothes, the ankh necklace I never took off, and the "how come they don't make anything paler?" foundation I wore, I was in the early stages of goth. It got worse over the Summer before I started going to Citrus College. That's when I started buying pants and bikinis made of pleather and go-go boots and dresses made of shiny black vinyl and all sorts of other things that I would never let my 15 or 16 year old wear. When I started working at Hot Topic at 17, it got ridiculous.
These next 2 are from Hawaii, Summer 1996, during a day spent at one of my favorite places: The Kualoa Ranch, about 2 hours by private bus from Waikiki on the island of Oahu.
Yes, that is a cigarette next to the toy gun in my left hand. By then, my parents knew I smoked. I was a high school graduate, so I guess that was OK with them. I think I was trying to look like an outlaw here. The periwinkle shirt kills it though, doesn't it? I had on a black pleather bikini underneath it but my Mom refused to let me take my shirt off for the picture. Funny, considering she let me buy the bikini.
This horse was so old. The only way to get it to move was to keep a switch in it's peripheral vision. My posture in the saddle here is awful (slouched forward as always), but at least I'm holding my reigns correctly. The really sad part about this horse is when I went back to the ranch 8 years later while on my honeymoon, this horse was still there. Thankfully, I didn't get stuck with it that time.
You never realize you're getting older until you see pictures of you when you were younger. I was between 14 and 16 in these photos, and in July I'll be 30. Crazy.

Kratos: The Knargle of War

Trina told me the other day that they were offered the chance to adopt another cat. With Atreyu, Storm, Luna (aka The Knargle) and Harlequin, this would make Cat #5, which I reminded her officially qualifies them for Crazy Cat People status. Yvonn brought the kitten over today during Amber's birthday party (by the way HAPPY 7th BIRTHDAY RUNT!) and the minute Trina, Gregg and I saw him, we knew he'd be staying. He is the TINIEST thing, mostly white, with a half a dozen spots on him like Luna, only the spots are gray (Luna is a Calico with red and black spots). Trina remarked how he had gray Knargle spots, so they now had a boy Knargle. But what to name him?
Trina named Atreyu, Amber named Storm, Raven named Luna (though we all call her The Knargle, after the invisible creatures described by her namesake in the Harry Potter books) and Gregg named Harlequin, plus Raven and Gregg named the Bearded Dragons (Jasper and Alice) and the Mexican King Snake (Toothless). Normally my suggestions for names for the pets are considered, but never used, but this time I finally picked one that got used.
Raven's friend Melanie suggested Hercules. Though immediately dismissed, it reminded me, as I'm sure it did the rest of the family, of when Gregg beat Hercules in the last God of War video game. Trina, Raven, Amber and I would watch Gregg play God of War III on the PS3 for hours at a time, before he beat the game after about 5 days. As I sat there thinking of this, holding the kitten with the ashy gray Knargle spots, it hit me. I looked at Trina, Raven and Amber and, after struggling to remember the hero's name from the video game, I blurted out "Kratos! We can name him Kratos!"
Now if there is one thing my best friend Trina and I do with some regularity, it's disagree. Not argue or fight, just disagree. Though we enjoy a lot of the same things and share some of the same beliefs, when it comes to matters of personal taste, we couldn't be more different. Though we never get angry, it annoys the hell out of anyone within earshot. She likes blue, I like red. I think the cashier at Costco is cute, she thinks he is not. She thinks "Minority Report" is a good movie, I think it was awful. She likes NCIS, I like Law and Order. It's just the way we are. So when I made my suggestion, I was fully prepared for a veto from her, and the look on her face ALMOST looked like she was going to, but then she paused for a second and said "Yeah, we could do that." With Gregg's, Amber's and Raven's approval, the kitten was named "Kratos: The Knargle of War"

OCD in Action

This is truly pathetic but I really don't care.
Sometimes the people I know think I am strange because I associate certain songs, TV shows or movies with certain people, places or holidays. This is usually because I have memories that link them together.
If it is New Years Eve, I have to hear Prince's "1999" because one year on New Year's Eve I heard it while I was out dancing and thought it was really appropriate. If it is Halloween I have to hear 'Thriller" because they would always show that video on MTV around Halloween, and I would watch it while I was putting on my costume and getting ready to go out. The movie "An Officer and a Gentlemen" will forever remind me of Munich because when I was there Jodie and I watched it translated into German. "Es tut meir leid, nein kinder..."
In this case, if it is a 3 or 4 day weekend, I have to watch The Twilight Zone because when I was little, every time there was a 3 or 4 day weekend (Labor Day, Thanksgiving, 4th of July, Memorial Day, New Years, etc.) either Channel 5 or Channel 11 would have a Twilight Zone marathon and my Dad and I would watch it together. Between the two of us, my Dad and I have probably seen every single Twilight Zone ever made, all 156 episodes. They never run all of them during the marathons, usually about 40 or 50 of the most popular ones. It's sad, even when I had plans on these particular holidays, I would check the program guide to see which ones were playing at what time so I could plan my day and not miss my favorites. It was not uncommon to hear me say "I have to be home by 9pm. The Hitch-Hiker is coming on" or "I didn't get to bed last night til 3am because they showed The Howling Man at 2:30am." If I'm not at my Dad's I've even called him up and said things like "Dad! Put it on Channel 5 in 10 minutes! They're gonna show It's A Good Life."
I told you, pathetic, right? Well, it gets better.
So I said they USED to show Twilight Zone marathons on all the holidays. Well, now they only show them on the 4th of July. What's a girl to do?
A couple of years ago I discovered that a lot of the episodes are on YouTube so if I wanted to hunt them down (usually an episode is uploaded into 3 parts) I could. Today I figured out how to make a playlist on YouTube, so no more hunting. I now have my very own Twilight Zone Marathon playlist, with 25 episodes (and growing), all queued up and ready to watch whenever I need a fix. That's over 12 hours, and I'm not done adding episodes yet.

"It's just a piece of paper..."

Last Friday I was over at Danny's house so that we could go to Party City and get one of those air horns for his CSUF Commencement Ceremony on Sunday along with some stuff to make a big, obnoxious sign for me to hold up. While I was there, he told me that while he was over at his friend's house, his friend's older brother and he were talking, during which Danny mentioned that he was graduating with his Bachelor's degree on Sunday, to which the guy replied "It's just a piece of paper..."
Knowing Danny as well as I do, and being a student in pursuit of a Bachelor's degree myself, I knew that this thoughtless statement was getting to him, despite the fact that the person who said it is a loser. I know if someone had said that to me, after all the work I've done over the last 3 and a half years, I'd be livid. As much as his Mom and I told him to consider the source and let it go, we could tell it was still bothering him.
Saturday while Danny was out running errands, I picked up his Mom to go shopping. We went to Macy's and got him 5 thoughtfully selected shirts as a graduation present, then we went to Party City and got some banners and balloons to hang up at the house to surprise Danny with. The plan was to sneak back to the house Sunday after the celebratory lunch and hang the balloons and banners while we had the other guests stall him at the restaurant. We picked up a "Congrats Grad" hanging banner, 6 assorted Mylar balloons, and a special customizable sign. Jan and I knew just what to put on that one.
The ceremony at CSUF started at 8:00am Sunday morning. I made sure to get there before Danny did so he didn't see the balloons or other stuff in my car. He loved the sign I made and I got a lot of pictures of him, just like he wanted. We even used the crappy air horn, but it didn't really work that well. After the ceremony we all headed back to West Covina to have lunch at Applebee's. After his Mom paid the check, we made a hurried exit, but insisted that everyone else stay and enjoy themselves a bit longer. I told Art and Chris to keep him at the restaurant for another 15 minutes. It worked out perfectly, as he rolled up seconds after I tied the last balloon to the front of the house. He got out of his car and looked at all the balloons and banners, and when he read the customized banner we made him, his face lit up and he laughed. There, in big letters for all the neighbors to see, were the words "Not Just A Piece Of Paper!" After standing outside for several minutes admiring mine and his Mom's efforts, we dragged him inside to open his gifts. He actually liked all the shirts we picked out, which is amazing because he usually ends up exchanging at least one thing when you buy him clothes. We spent the rest of the afternoon uploading photos and working on a submission for the school's website that he was asked to do and just catching up and visiting. After 12 hours I finally went home. I was very proud of my friend, and he was very grateful for all that his Mom and I had done to make his day special. Next year it will be my turn and I can't wait.

If you aren't really asleep, are you dreaming?

My General Education classes are piling on the homework lately. My law classes are building up to finals, so the workload isn't quite there, yet. I've been working out fairly consistently with Trina on the Wii Fit. The animals in my house are shedding and trying to hump the throw pillows, so the house gets dirtier faster. In short, I'm under a lot of stress (not all of it bad, but stress nonetheless). I'm tired most of the time, but I am not sleeping that well.
At some point during the middle of the day I find myself sleepy, but when I lay down to take a nap, I'm not completely asleep. I can still hear most things and I toss. Then, in the middle of the night, I will wake up suddenly and lay around like this for a few hours.
In this "not quite asleep, but not really awake" state, I have these dreams, or what I am starting to think are hallucinations with my eyes shut. I have the same ones over and over again. Or rather, the same one over and over again.
My mind will be off doing whatever, thinking, dreaming, then as I am laying there, I'll hear a little girl say my name. The first time it happened a few days ago it kinda freaked me out and I woke up. It was so real. Sometimes I can see the top of her head. She's either a large toddler or a small child because the top of her head came just over my Dad's super high pillowtop mattress. Her hair is somewhere between blond and red, like strawberry blond maybe, but light. The other day when I was taking a nap at my Dad's I swore I could see her standing there for a split second when I awoke. Sometimes she touches my arm, but she always says the same thing, never urgent, never more than sweet but persistent, in a little girl's voice: "Holly...Holly...Holly..."
Sometimes I grumble at her and wake myself up: "I'm sleeping." or "What?" Sometimes it cuts into some other dream that I am having and it will startle me awake just from the interruption. I have yet to yell at her, but I know at some point I will out of frustration. I only hope I don't embarrass myself by waking up my roommates or alerting my Dad and my Brother by yelling in my sleep.
That's why I think I may be hallucinating while I am half asleep, because who else gets woken up all the time by imaginary children?
I know its the endorphins from working out more and the serotonin from an over-active brain who has too much homework and is frustrated by a house in need of almost constant maintenance. A body that wants to keep moving and a brain that is always planning, pondering and processing must surely be the cause of this. Maybe in a few weeks when the semester is over, she'll let me sleep, or maybe she'll tell me what she wants so I can get her to stop waking me.

Well, there's always next year...

Well, this will be yet another year where I won't see a Triple Crown winner. Bob Baffert switched jockeys and ended up winning the Preakness with Lookin' At Lucky (the horse I had picked for the Derby). Oh well. Still had fun watching the race and I'm still looking forward to the Belmont.

Derby Day

Some people might think my family has weird priorities. On my Dad's side of the family, we don't celebrate Easter in April, but on the first Saturday in May, we celebrate the running of the Kentucky Derby. Dad makes corned beef and puts out munchies and Brian and I are expected to attend. Sometimes my Aunt and Uncle come out, but not always. If I am not there at least 2 hours before post time, my phone is ringing. The week before my Dad will start reminding me, so that I don't make plans, as if I could forget. This same ritual takes place for the Preakness and the Belmont, but since the Derby is the first race of the Triple Crown, it is special. This is the race where we get behind a horse to win the Triple Crown, hopefully. If someone in our immediate family won the Lottery, it wouldn't even be a question or a discussion, I would be online booking our plane tickets and hotel accommodations to Kentucky, Maryland and New York for next year's races. I would be getting an extra ticket for Maryland to bring Jonie of course. Every since I was little, that was a dream for me: to wear a sundress and a great big hat to the Derby, to visit Ruffian's grave at Pimlico and leave her a single rose, to be in the stands for the singing of "New York, New York" before the final race.
We start looking at horses and making Derby predictions about a month or two in advance, usually after watching the Santa Anita Derby and a couple of other pre-Derby races around the country. Our betting styles are unique. My Dad bets odds and jockeys, never picks a dead-on favorite (called a "chalky") and usually doesn't care what the horse is named, and usually just bets one horse to win or place. My Brother likes long shots because if one hits, they pay big, and he will usually bet a trifecta or an exacta, mixed with chalkies and long shots. I pick one horse to win or place: that perfect combination of odds (2nd or 3rd favorite), jockey, starting position, name (picking the horse whose name I liked worked great for me at the track as a kid and I got a lot of Toys R Us money out of it), trainer, and if I have watched them run before or not that may also be a factor in my choice.
This year for the Derby, just like last year, the first horse I was looking at ended up not running. A local horse out of Santa Anita named after my cat with a jockey I know (talented, but a jerk whom I have met and can't stand) and a winning trainer who went off as the morning line co-favorite ended up being my pick this year. I had seen him race before, but I was a little unsure about him because of the jockey. The other favorite was being ridden by a jockey whom I admire and came from a trainer who had never won a Derby, but being me, I have to pick a horse and stay with it, though I secretly wanted this horse to win.
In my lifetime, I have never seen a Triple Crown winner (a horse that has won the Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont) and every year I hope for 2 things: 1. That no one gets hurt (the last few years of the Triple Crown have been marred by the tragic injuries and subsequent deaths of horses like Barbaro and Eight Belles) and 2. That someone wins the Triple Crown. Last year Mine That Bird and Rachael Alexandra ran AMAZING races, but both canceled the others chances. If only Rachael Alexandra had run in the Derby instead of the Oaks, I might have seen a Triple Crown winner, but oh well.
The horse I picked came in 5th, thanks in part to my hated jockey. But Calvin Borrell, on Super Saver (the horse I mentioned before that I secretly wanted to win) ran away with first place and now I am excited to see him run the Preakness and the Belmont. Maybe I will get my Triple Crown winner this year. In 6 short weeks, I'll know.