If you are, you’re not reading this, probably. You’re probably having mimosas for breakfast, then going for a swim. Or maybe you’re having bloody marys in the mountains, then hiking. I am here in my urban neighborhood, wondering why we’re not on vacation. Oh, money, right. There was this, this and oh, yeah, now this.

The kids are at swim class with their pops, who has the day off THANK YOU JESUS. I’m working on my novel, which is not as much fun as blogging. And listening to Hole. WTF? Yeah, don’t ask. I’m trying to drive my neighbor back indoors by blasting loud music through our screenless, open windows. (The cats are having a field day, catching flies and moths.) She keeps screaming SHUT UP, I MEAN IT, SHUT UP! at the dog. (Dog: “Oh, shit! She means it. OK, no more barking.”) And complaining, loudly, about the way the other neighbors park. (This includes me. She hates my parking job, and Hockey God’s. We are ace parkers, she’s an idiot.) (Her sister’s out there with her, listening to the tirade.) Anyway, being on my best day only a slightly better mother than Courtney Love Ha! I’m teasing. Courtney and I have nothing in common other than our age, which is the same. She lies about it. People, she is 42.

(“…like a liar at a witch trial/you look good for your age…” — “Plump”)

(I know how old she is cuz our younger sisters went to school together.) (Also, once you become a mother, the meaning of “Violet” changes — “…when they get/what they want/they never want it again…” and “go on/take everything/take everything/I want you to…” I love adore worship my kids but goddamn, they are vampires. I am sucked dry.) Where was I going with this? I’m working on being more patient and loving with HG and the kids. They’re nice people. They deserve it. To help achieve this goal, have stopped drinking coffee and switched to tea. (Half the caffeine, none of the calories of a mocha. I like unsweetened iced tea. You?)

On an entirely different note, do you think this is offensive, for a church-going-type neighborhood? They’re opening a new restaurant/bar, up the street, in a former soul food restaurant, calling it… something, I can’t remember. Sorry. But the reader board says: COMING IN JULY CHURCH OF THE BLOODY MARY. I am not kidding. And it’s opening right across the street from a new McMenamins. How to explain McMenamins, to those of you outside of the Pacific Northwest? “Why would anyone in their right mind open a series of brewpubs and dedicate them to the Grateful Dead?” is what my girlfriend H used to ask, when anyone said, “Let’s go to Tavern & Pool/Blue Moon/Barley Mill we’ll get a jar of beer and go to the park…”

Anyway. They closed down one of the only black funeral homes in the neighborhood, Little Chapel of the Chimes and are putting in the Chapel Pub. This is disrespectful as Hell, McMenamin Bros. (Also, do we have any proof that the McMenamins are right-wingers who heavily finance the anti-abortionists? I have no idea. Anyone out there who knows? Be anonymous, I won’t tell.)

Yuppie, drinking pint of Terminator and slurping down some greasy fries: “They used to, like, embalm people here, did you know that? How do they embalm people, anyway?”

Other yuppie: “Dude, didn’t you ever watch ‘Six Feet Under’?”

I say respect the dead and their spirits. I’m going to go light a candle right now for everyone, this whole thing is aggravating me. Do I have any control over it? No. Less coffee/more tea/more love/less disrespect.

“…like a holy roller/roller/roller…” Mother Love Bone

That’s who I’m listening to now, the Church of Mother Love Bone, all better, turned off stupid Courtney. Can you tell I’m a Portland girl or what? Keerist. What’s next, Dead Moon? I do love Dead Moon. I adore Mother Love Bone, they are bliss. Jesus, I was freaking there for a minute. Is this neighborhood going to Hell? No, we’re alright. Mother Love Bone is right, this is Shangrila. Happy Monday to you.