concretekiss

son, age 12.9: for birthday wants One Year Immunity to Groundation
daughter, age 10: (in the shower) Jelly Bean is not my lovah...she's just a girl who says that I am the one!"

boy - you should try out for American Idol, mama.
girl - she's too old, but America's Next Top Model is letting short girls try out!

Over the weekend I threw nail polish, pizza, beer, PJ Harvey songs & potstickers into the gaping abysmal void that is my soul like so many weenies down a hallway.

My daughter is coming into this blissful age where she seems to admire me surprisingly & immensely. I know in a few years that won't be the case & am ready, I guess. But in this fleeting phase she spontaneously says things like “Mama, all the boys like you because yr so hot,” as we trot across the parking lot & I laugh & toss my hair & say “Oh stop it,” in that “Please continue” way.
Truly, everyone should have a little 7yo chick sidekick for when yr feelin’ like ass. For when you wonder if you were born to walk away & watch others do the same. For when you are tired & hoping no one notices your Hideous Eye Twitch. These past few months I have soaked up the lovin.

Rachel, I found some face wash for wrinkles & blemishes!
What? That’s ridiculous, you don’t have wrinkles & rarely do you have pimples.
Rachel, recognize. My wrinkles have pimples & my pimples have wrinkles.
Stacie, you were reading Cosmo when you were 8. You’ve been bitching about yr crow’s feet since you were 10.
Rachel, recognize the fact that you can’t HANDLE my wrinkles!

Imagine us all in nursing homes. Our tattoos distorted. Youthlorn words & symbols eroded. We will search for once wild windows in the soft pleats of our faces, our grins drawing back lose drapes of skin. We will tag one another’s bedpans, white dreadlocks, gray mohawks, race our walkers down the hall, pimp my wheelchair.

Oh & if you've recently wondered what happened to Sunny Day Real Estate (yes try not to pee yrself in anticipation) you can exhale now. It's old news but new to me that Jeremy Enigk, lead vox with the passionate, raspy cry gave himself up to hardcore Christianity & broke up the band. Real good ChristJesus. If you aren't too busy I have some requests.

me - Elise! We are all sharing that sauce, are you double dipping?!
daughter - No! Gosh! I'm.....ten-dipping.

oy vey, I wish I could do this Monday over. I work with two amazing, intellectually sexy women in a male dominant field. We have meetings with engineering teams to negotiate the build of their inventions, in fancy board rooms encased in glass, overlooking the greenbelt. We rock a mean transaction & what's funny is we are all the same size. There is a bubbly country blonde, a stoic willowy brunette, & me, the fidgety dishwater brownnnnnwhatever. Add the secret ingredient...chemical X. They are arguing alot at the moment & I feel like a child of divorce, as if I should fake love letters or arrange some parent trap to reunite them before the engineers smell dissension in the ranks.

I wanted to thank those of you who wished my little one well. She turned 7 last week in a fevered haze, but still, she is so lovely. (She had a dream last night of her new loose tooth, except it was "looong & blowing in the wind!")

Man, I wish my grandfather would stop sending me sparkly Jesus chainmail. That reminds me, he told me a joke last weekend when I went to visit; A man walked into a doctor's office & the frontdesk receptionist asked "Can I help you sir?" to which the man replied "There's something wrong with my pecker." (yes, pecker, my grandfather said pecker to me) The receptionist was appalled, and told the man to leave at once & come back when he could communicate his ailment a civilized manner. The man returned 15 minutes later & told the receptionist, "There's something wrong with my ear." The receptionist then asked what the problem was, to which the man replied "I can't piss out of it." It's funnier when my grandfather tells it.

Speaking of pee in the ear, Devendra Banhart sucks truly & vigorously.

There are too many of the ladies in my life having to deal with weak, childish men at the moment & though it may narrow the playing field considerably, I wish them lovers as strong, self-sufficient, honest & upstanding as they are. I want them to make that promise to themselves but ah, the greatest war is between the head & heart.

Back to work on part 3 of my triptych, a landscape of rooftops. I've never tried shadow on geometric shapes though it's nice to finally get into the zone, to forget what time or wherefore until my back aches from hovering painstakingly over the patient. I recommend it.

senryu;
of scooped-out grins, eyes
twitching & miceful i left
jack-o-lantern town

If a small girl comes to you, eyes ablaze. If she comes grubby hands full of driveway gravel & I brought you some diamonds she says, you better heave her into the sky, flaunt her to the stars & kiss her hard, like you don't know the difference.

If there were a switch located within that once pulled, would irreversibly free you from any desire for physical affection, would you pull it?

At the Thrift Store

Son; Mama, that little kid just showed me the bad finger.
Well don't look at him. He pushed me in the hip earlier, & he's throwing things so, just steer clear of him.
(One woman deliberately rams her cart into another woman's)
It's getting wild in here.
Son; Mama, he did it again!
(Child begins crying in the back. Two mothers yell. People begin gnashing carts. Daughter is pinned between three girls who won't move, & is calling out to me. Clamor rises.)
*plucking up Daughter* Let's get out of here. come on.
(Outside thrift store.)
That was crazy!
Son; Yeah! And all the mothers were ugly too. They had yellow & brown teeth & with one big giant one sticking out.
*laughing* I didn't see that.
(Car full of idiots honking. Whistling in the parking lot.)
That's so rude.
Daughter; That's not rude. I know what that means! It means a woman is pretty.
Son; But Mama is a Lady.
That's right, baby.
Daughter; Hey when I close my eyes & press my thumbs into them I can see cool art.