So. Good.

Susan Boyle’s performance on Britain’s Got Talent.

Man, no one loves Randy Travis like my grandma, my late grandpa and me. So imagine my joy when Hockey God sent me this:

“I know every engineer
on every train
all of their children
and all of their names
and every handout
in every town
and every lock that ain’t locked
when no one’s around…”

MamaToo is right — it gets to be spring and I just want to clean house and get the hell out of town. And I don’t mean a weekend at the beach — I mean move away. With Steve and the kids, of course.

My grandma is doing okay. (You want to know her motto? Yep.) (Also, here is her recipe for Pineapple Upside-Down Cake.)

She’s hating the physical and occupational therapists. She likes half of her nurses and wants the other half fired.

To her nurse who is African (from Nigeria): “Ooooh, you speak English really well!”
me: (crashing head into hands)
nurse: “We were colonized by the British, so we actually do speak English! And I’ve been here 24 years.”
me (in my head): I love you, nice nurse.

So, she’s getting back to her old self. It looks like I’ll be able to take some family leave so I can spend time with her — she’s in a rehab center (Wacky Girl: “For drugs?” Nope. But they do give her drugs. Different kind of rehab…). And then she’ll be going back home, it looks like. Pretty good for going on 89 years old.

Here is your video for the day, cuz if I had a boat, I’d get out of Dodge, too. Maybe we will. You just never know til you start driving away. Still not crazy about Portland. The crappy weather, the stupid mayor, the crummy schools. The people who will talk to dogs but not other people. Hi puppy! Aren’t you the cutest wittle bittle puppy-wuppy yum yum yum!

(To all you transplants: Oh… my… GOD!!! Isn’t Portland the best????)

Here’s another favorite — I’ve played this song about a half-million times, I really love it. But this is my favorite version ever — viva la Francine Reed.

Internets, too much flu for me this week and too much political b.s. at City Hall. But hey, we’re Portland, so be cool, would ya? Let’s all be cool and not talk about the real problems here. Let’s dance all around and pretend we’re not talking about what we’re really talking about. We can call each other names and then say, Just kidding! (And whisper, I hate that bitch.) We can listen to cocktail music and later, go to a strip club or two. Yeeeeeeeeeee-haw.

Our babysitter, last week: “Aw, it’s just, Sam was my guy!”
me: “Why?”
her, mulling it over: “You know… bikes… and everything…”
me: “Holy Christ. Are you for real here?”

Is there more “there” there? Integrity would be good. Let’s spread some of that around instead of the STDs. And don’t give me some crap about all politicians are corrupt, all couples sleep around on each other, everyone’s an asshole.

That is not true. You’re not that way, and I’m not that way. True? Or false? There are more of us with integrity out there than you would think. It’s just the unethical ones who get all the attention, not the ones quietly living their lives and trying to keep things under control.

Also, I’m a little aggravated with a certain local society blogger who’s all, Why are you such Puritans, Portlanders? Isn’t it cool our mayor is getting some? Isn’t that cool?

A lot of us are getting some, and we don’t need to find underage tail to make it happen. If something like this is happening right now in Mr. Adams’ life, when he should be acting like a grown man instead of a 17 year old — no, wait, the 17 year olds I know don’t play bullshit games like this — anyway. Chances are it’s a pattern. Chances are it, or a variation of it, will happen again.

If you have crazy shit like this (oh my God I don’t know how my dick slipped out of my pants! Where did you come from, dick?) going on in your life once you’ve hit your 40s — even when you’re in your 30s, or late 20s — you, my friend, have yourself a problem.

I’m not a compulsive gambler here, but I’m not betting on Sam Adams. If he truly had an ounce of integrity, he would step down from office and start over. But appearances, appearances, you know. Wouldn’t want to let go of the brass ring once you’ve stolen it.

Adams has snaked a number of people here, some of them my friends and associates. People have had to step down from their jobs. We don’t need any distractions here and I am feeling resentful. The chaos and bullshit and distractions. We’ve got issues to deal with — jobs. People not having homes. The schools. People going hungry. I don’t want the distractions, I want focus.

I try not to, I try to rise above it, but I do hold a grudge. To quote Karen Karbo, it keeps you warm at night.

Also, just to be completely aboveboard about things, even though almost twenty years have passed by, I still have a grudge against said society blogger. I have tried to forgive and I just can’t forget, and him coming to Sam Adams’ defense has reminded me of a sad, ugly chapter in my life where he also tried to cover for someone else. And have a good laugh about it at the same time. I don’t really feel like writing about it, I don’t know if I ever will. I didn’t want to ever think about it again. I’m ready to move on. Let’s just say — patterns. Same old bullshit. And Portland is a small town, still. There is one degree of separation here, and sometimes not even that much.

Then my minister comes along with, is Adams “truly repenting?” And I’m thinking, Holy Christ, minister, are you for real here? Because if I’m being an asshole all week long, then come Saturday I’m confessing and sobbing, and I’m purified in the blood of the lamb on Sunday, then come Monday, back to being an asshole, that still makes me…

Ready?

An asshole.

So maybe when that dawns on you, you should deal with your shit and perhaps consider never being an asshole again. And maybe trying to serve as mayor of a fair-sized city while you’re doing this kind of soul-searching is a little bit of a conflict. A drain. Maybe you should just work on your shit for awhile and then take on some bigger tasks after that. Maybe Adams should work a blue-collar job for awhile and see how the other half lives.

I hear he likes gardening. Maybe a landscaping crew would train him up for awhile. Good luck having enough money left over on payday to buy food, but maybe your friends will have you over for soup.

During times when you really want to act like an asshole, you can usually see the patterns emerging, and past childhood trauma comes knocking at the door. Demons rise up and slap the shit out of you and you really, really want to pretend you’re 17 again and be irresponsible but you know what? You’ve got to work through it. You’ve got to rise above it.

“Keep passing the open windows.”
— John Irving, The Hotel New Hampshire

Someone left me a note in comments asking so Wacky Mommy, you uptight snatch, hysterical much? (cuz adding that word, “much,” makes the sentence extra-extra tangy and original) and I’m thinking, You have no idea.

So. So, so, so. Exile on Main Street?

Indeed.

Now that’s cocktail music.

This one is sweet because Mick Taylor is in it. And Charlie is wearing stripedy pants. You know how much I love stripedy. And Mick’s smile, when he flashes it, lights up the whole place.

(Even though that one is on Sticky Fingers, not Exile on Main Street.)

Look for Mother Maybelle and the Carter Sisters in the background on the second song.

Happy weekend, y’all.

love,

wm

“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day.” — Vixen

I am such a follower of Ms. Vixen. She makes me laugh my ass off, she makes me cry, she moves me. She deals with stuff and she moves on. She doesn’t forget, ever, but she is constantly moving forward. I can appreciate that. She and her family have been through some tough times this year, and I send them so much love and a ton of best wishes for this new year.

A number of my friends and family members have gone through some exceptionally awful times this year. They have learned things I wish they had never learned. Never had to learn. I wish them peace, and happiness, in this upcoming Year of the Ox.

Here is what I just found out about our friends, the Oxen:

The Ox is the sign of prosperity through fortitude and hard work. This powerful sign is a born leader, being quite dependable and possessing an innate ability to achieve great things. As one might guess, such people are dependable, calm, and modest. Like their animal namesake, the Ox is unswervingly patient, tireless in their work, and capable of enduring any amount of hardship without complaint.

Ox people need peace and quiet to work through their ideas, and when they have set their mind on something it is hard for them to be convinced otherwise.

Maybe this means a year of calm? Peace and quiet and lots of good work? I hope so. I hope the American war against Iraq ends soon. I hope we learn to leave the rest of the world be and focus on what we need to do to heal at home.

I wish all of you the best, my readers. Look into your heart, decide what you really want. What you can’t live without. What you need to change. What you can’t change. Find some peace and quiet. Work on what you need to do. Please get going. We don’t have all the time in the world, here. Sometimes I wish we did; other times I’m thankful we don’t. Count your blessings, every day.

I have been wondering a lot lately about where I’m going with my writing, my blog, my career. I like my new job. I more than like it — I have found myself a career and something I want to do until I retire, which (I hope) won’t happen anytime soon. I’m thinking twenty more years, then, after that, I’ll volunteer at a library for as long as I can. Are you hearing me out there? I found something I will be happy with for the rest of my life.

Whew.

All of you who said that English degree would never do anything for me? Nyah nyah nyah. I love books. I love getting kids reading. I love it.

I am satisfied with the work, the students, almost everything about it. But I need to earn my master’s degree, and I need to find a way, like Hermione in “Harry Potter,” to turn back time so I can be two places at once. And (for obvious reasons) I can’t write about work here, so you miss the funny stories and all that. So I am not all yours anymore.

As my kids get older, I do not want to share as much about our private lives. They’ve asked me not to, and I respect that. But this is a domestic blog, at its heart, and so… So, so, so. What next? Recipes and book reviews, hair tips and sex advice. Political stuff and news about the Nekkid Neighbors. (Although their kids are getting older, too, and maybe won’t want their crazy tales told by their wacky neighbor.)

I don’t like some of the strange e-mails and nasty comments that I’ve received. I love the funny comments and sweet e-mails I’ve received. I mostly ignore the rest and delete as needed. I’ve gone back and marked some of my older posts private.

We’ll see where the new year takes us all, eh? I do plan to spend a lot of time studying, playing with my kids and husband, working hard. I take my work seriously and hope you understand why I’m not always over here, or stopping by your blogs as regularly as I used to. I miss my blogworld, but the “real” world is pretty cool, too. (How can you say anything is more “real” than the blogs though? This is raw and pure.)

And, since I let Vixen have the first words, I’ll let her have the last words, too. Happy 2009, y’all.

nancy

“I wish that your every dream for 2009 come true. That you find yourself surrounded by friends, laughter, and good times. I wish that your every cup runneth over financially, romantically, spiritually, and creatively. That good health be your faithful companion, peace your guarded ally, and love your perpetual guide.”

(OK, can’t resist one more song from “White Christmas.” Just watched the movie again this week — Rosemary Clooney’s commentary on the DVD is frickin’ hilarious. What a class act. I love that girl. wm)

The #1 reason Tom Petty rules: He understands women. The #2 reason: He is baffled and confused by them.

SUCH a good video.

Sorry I do not have anything pithy and light to share, any recipes to give you, any sex tips to pass along. Oh, wait. Yes I do.

If you’re getting enough sleep, you might be in the mood to be a bettah lovah. Just sayin’. Also, do a quick check of the bedroom: Laundry all over? Bed unmade? No candles in sight? A kid or two between the sheets? No, no, no, and double no.

Let’s be careful out there, ‘k? Here’s another video…

love,

wm

And yes, I do have the worst taste in videos! Thanks for noticing!

xo

That does not fully express my pain over here. My pain at finally having a minute to blog for the first time this week and NOT BEING ABLE TO LOG IN because MY BLOG IS TOAST AT THE MOMENT.

I used to just reboot the server and all was well, we’d be up and running. Then a couple weeks ago received word from Hockey God, aka Master of My Domain, that went like this, “Jesus Christ,” (he always calls me that. It’s kinda weird), “I told you, do not reboot. You could take down the entire universe if you do that.” (My power, it astounds me.) “I told you that. I’ve told you that like four times. It will reboot automatically.”

Guess what? It hasn’t. And now all I’m getting is a note that says ERROR ESTABLISHING A DATABASE CONNECTION.

Honestly.

So you’re probably all out there thinking, Girlfriend has quit the blog. Or that I’m trapped under a large stack of books that fell from the shelves and crushed me, and I’ve Fallen And I Can’t Get Up.

Also, I have this song going on in my head, it’s so groovin’ and very ’80s, no? I hear the ’80s are “hip” again so hot damn, let’s break out the Firm!

I mean — look at that hair. Listen to Jimmy Page. Wow. What’s next? Dokken? Quiet Riot? I have no idea, I just like a catchy riff, don’t you?

All for now, until Steve wakes up. I’ve been awake since 5 a.m. It’s my new schedule, and will not adjust itself for the weekend. Whatever. I like the peace and quiet.

But not my inability to access my own frickin’ blog. That I can do without.

Rock on, Internets.

love,

wm

YAY, he fixed it. Thank you, thank you, we’re live.