These are two guys that I’ve known for a year.  I mention, because like most women, I have spent some time dating. . . maybe more than most women, but that is neither here nor there.  And while I have never had a problem finding men to date, I’ve also never been one to fall in love , with,  easily.  Punctuation aside, what I’m trying to say is that while I have found the love of my life with this amazing man, Jason Puccinelli, I have had a harder time ‘courting’ his sons. . . but the hard time is that I don’t know if they love me, and I wonder if sometimes I work for their love instead of just loving them for who they are.  

So I go back to the day I first met them. 

Jasper was in a fitted vest and tie, reading something about the titanic I think.  At a table full of adults who were drowsily sipping coffee and tea.  He was awake, perky, ready for life (and dressed for the sinking of any great ship).  I loved him.  

Eli was naked.  Running around like a tyrant and some THING I thought I could never tame, much less understand, and to me I didn’t even think of love.  I thought, what am I going to do with this boy today.  

I’m not going to lie, it hasn’t been easy the last few months.  I’ve had to grow up considerably.  I’ve become an adult.  (only when other adults are looking).  I’ve had to learn to love, without wanting anything in return.  I’ve had to learn to love picking up after someone, and cooking for someone, and cleaning for someone, and having to sacrifice all of my time for someone.  And I bet there is more to come, but I already know that these are two clowns I love, and I’ve come to love them without reservation. 

It is nothing like dating.


Well, for those of you who knew me years ago, you knew that I loved baseball.  I loved the Mariner’s, and like all good fans I was a fairweather one at best.  Regardless, I knew players, I knew names, I knew batting averages, and I knew it was one of my favorite ways to spend 3 hours on a summer day.  Fast forward a few years to when the team now, and I can name maybe one player?  Maybe two?  But two guys I remember from back in the day, Jay Buhner and Edgar Martinez.  And last week I got to be in the same room as both of them. 

Turns out they are just these two guys who used to play baseball, and we were shooting a commercial involving them.  Turns out, we got to work with a very special guest.  Willy!!!

And also a wall of Media.  I think it’s a few pictures down, but honestly, this freaked me out more than the Chimp.  I am setting up some mugs and making coffee (the high level job I have and all), I turn my back on the room for one minute, and when I walk back in it’s a wall of camera’s.  What the H.  I honestly just had to turn around, I was so weirded out by all of the lenses.  But it made me think, are our kids (or our partners kids) going to be as influenced to the camera’s as I am?  I know that my younger sis Rara knows all of her angles for the lens, and on occasion I know what I’m doing (but only when I’m hyper aware).  I wonder, is the next generation just going to be more photogenic because of the digital era?  

Of course.  Not.  Yes.  Well? 










So I haven’t posted in awhile.  I totally blame the detox plan although I know it’s because I’m totally lazy and i have a cache of 11 other excuses but really it’s because I forgot the first point of this, to write for me.  So instead I have about 3 drafts I’m working on, and I don’t want to post anything because I first want to mention my new nephew and my new niece, two pretty good looking kids that popped out of my sisters.  They are cute, but sometimes I don’t like it when people say they have the best looking niece and newphew on the planet.  I mean Duh.  Look at the pictures, I don’t want to insult your intelligence.  

anywhoosers, I’m still dieting and have not lost much weight but I did get sick!  That’s after I broke the rules and ate cheesy delicious macaroni and cheese with califlower.  And Poutine which you shouldn’t do anyways, but especially not after 6 days without cheese.  So I’ve been suffering in silence since then, barely being able to speak because of throat swelling due to overeating cheese and drinking a few beers.  

Which brings me to this point: I was doing fine.  Sure, I had a little extra difficulty getting out of bed in the morning, and I didn’t feel that sharp all of the time.  But the waves were like a calm ocean with a little headwind.  Then I had to go and get all clear and “diety” and the moment I slipped up just a little it was like B A M !  You are being punished.  So, is it any coincidence that diety (my own word) and Deity are just one letter off?  

I’m Just Saying.

It was unclear to me, at the onset of a ‘detox’ plan for my life, what difficulty I would face upon denying myself certain pleasures.  I thought quite naively that alcohol and coffee would be terribly missed and irreplacable.  Enter tea by the ounce (bordering pound) and the problem was solved.  ‘Easy does it’ I said to myself, ‘we can still have caffeine to to aide in our detox goal’.  At this point the goal should be mentioned:  it is not meant to be a weight loss diet (although 3 cheers if that happens!), nor perspective from mental clarity, which I clearly need.  No, it’s simple.  It is meant to see if I can put my mind to something and do it.  Nothing else but an answer to the question, If i desire, can I succeed?  Maybe it was too much sleep too many days in a row, or maybe I was bored not working and looking for work, or it could be that new years feeling of wanting to be healthy (but I REALLY don’t think that was it).  I think I was just looking for something unknown.  Something they call a diet.   

Ha, Diet.  If you have known me at all, you’ll know I am not one to watch what I eat, do, or say.  I just let it all out there and let the chips lie where they want to.  (okay, sometimes I am a little passive aggressive but I’m not the only one, am I?  wink wink).  So I am now two days in.  That’s it, two days.  I haven’t had coffee since Sunday.  Don’t miss it, can live without it, life goes on, blah blah blah.  You know where life doesn’t go on?  Without cheese.   God I can’t even go on writing about it, I miss it so much.  Without cheese.  That is me now–a dieting, self loving, dog petting, laundry doing soul without cheese.  

(I would like to note at this point, that it has been less than 24 hours since my last slice, which was at 9 pm PST on January 12, 2009).




Chesterfield Attack

My dog is relentless.  Jason told me one day that the moment I leave the house, Chess goes straight for the garbage can.  Say what you want about that, but I just learned the reverse.  The moment Jason leaves the house and it’s me and the dog?  He talks to me.  I so wish I could record this.  He stares me down, whines, then starts to do the whimper, a little bark, back to the whimper.  ‘look at me’ is not his request.  No no, it’s all about fetch for this one.  (as he is currently standing on my stomach, toy in mouth).  I have to give in, he is just to cute not to comply.

i don’t know what to write. I know why, after a day of searching internally for some better reason than I’m totally afraid of being judged (also true), it is that I don’t know what to write. It’s not really the subject matter, or the story telling, or the criticism, or the lack of spell check (at least to my knowledge) on wordpress. It’s a little bit about there needing to be an organic nature to how things come out, and my own concerns with only writing when I have something to write about. Wow.

See??? Like that? organic. I came here to sit and write about my fear of writing, which is really wrapped up in one simple phrase I heard from the most ridiculously, limited with his own importance of a man. Even writing about him doesn’t work. Whatever Luke Reinsma. When you asked me what I wanted to be and then told me ‘you have to actually know how to write in order to be a writer’, I lost my hope. Fast forward 10 years almost to the day, and I have to say Go.To.Hell.

Said it, it’s off my chest. GO TO HELL. (had to scream it that time). I never should have listened to you in the first place, and never will I again let one critic influence me in such a way that I stifle myself. So Mr. Reinsma, I have lost all respect for you, and will never send my kids to see you, and will let go of you from this point forward.

I write for one person now. Me.

I’d like to start with a mention of my pioneer, my scout.  Most know this as your pointer finger, but when the top of it is gone and you can’t use it for 14 days, you realize how much it pioneers items in your life.  It may just be tucking your shirt in, or lifting a mattress, but when that pioneer doesn’t work, you develop a new found respect for it.  My pioneer is a thing of beauty, and today, it is making it’s reappearance to my keyboard.  It can once again run itself through my hair.  It can itch a spot on my arm.  It can pet my dog.  It’s back, and I’m happier with it.  O’ Pioneer, you are mine again.  You are mine.

May 2018
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