Phobe.

Last night I got a text messsage from my cousin, telling me that I had better be good, and I know what she means.

*sigh*

Yes. I know what she means.

Don’t pick up the drink.

I! GET! IT!

And I suppose this is why I run away from family, because I don’t need ANYBODY telling me what to do, thankyouverymuch. Even if I am making a beeline for self destruction, I don’t want you to utter ONE word about it. Not even a syllable. Don’t even give me a look!

I can’t even accept guidance from momma, who sprinkles me with varied little nuggets of knowledge to make my life easier.

Instead I get MORE stubborn. MORE irritated.

The relationship with my cousin leaves me feeling like I can never be enough for anyone. I don’t want to be enough for anyone. It makes me feel fettered. And then when I get a phone call and a “well, I won’t keep you,” I think to myself, what did you call for? If not to keep me? 

Which leaves me puzzled. I make a career out of being enough for a classroom of children.

Yet, I need AND demand space from those who should be closest to me. My family, my husband, my stepsons.

When I first got back on the wagon I told the group that td didn’t get to have expectations of me. Which is pretty wack, even for me. In my defense, I was hurt by his inability to acknowledge me as a part of his life. Not even his family. Just another person in his neighborhood.

The relationship with my cousin is…redeveloping. The family expects me to be a good influence on her (Hang out with her! She’ll take you to meetings! Doctor’s Appointments! Find books for you to read! Feed you!) and…AND.

Maybe I run away from these things because I don’t want to meet anyone else’s expectations? I know her message wasn’t meant to be condescending, but I was angered. I didn’t even read the whole message before I flipped the phone shut, irritated.

I do not need protection from myself.

Maybe there was a point in my life when I did, but not now. And as hard as I have worked to be able to be comfortable with saying what I mean, it appears that I am not there with family.

Not yet.

Less is *NOT* More

You know how they have those books, “Everybody Poops”, etc.?

Well, they should have “I’m sorry, honey, but those ARE going to shrink.”

When I went to Victoria’s Secret today? A CUP! A! F*#*(@ING CUP! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN SINCE I HAVE HAD AN A CUP?

Ath GRADE! Or thereabouts!

I knew that after I started running again I lost some weight, as evidenced by my woefully empty b cups, but when the lady who does the fitting pronounced me an “A”. I was so positive that she was wrong that I would’ve bet my first born child on it. When I actually stepped into the dressing room and saw that she was HOLY COW! GOOD AT HER JOB! AND ACTUALLY RIGHT! I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, and I believe that my eyes actually teared up. Momma tried to soothe my woes by telling me that my back was tapered and that I looked athletic and had a great figure, but….

It’s kind of like a banana split without the banana. It’s just not the same.

Do you feel my pain? Do you internets? Because now, not only do I have noticeably UNEVEN TA TAS, but they are shrinking, too.

Fabulous.

Or, as the appropriately morose dh put it, “Poor tiny boobies.”

*sob*.

Fashionista.

It’s been a long time since I product whored on here, but I cannot resist. Yeah, just like I “cannot” tell a lie!

When Momma and I were driving through the Mickey D’s drive through (for a DRINK, only! Still healthy!) I noticed a flyer for a 5k run on the 30th of this month benefitting Ronald’s House and decided it would be nice to run someplace with different scenery.

Desperate for an excuse to shop (bwahahahahah), Momma and I went down to Dick’s Sporting Goods (Attention Dick Shoppers! Or is it Attention! Dick Shoppers? or Attention Dick! Shoppers! Fun with punctuation!) so that I could look at the “running ensembles”. Long story short: The Ronald McDonald House suggests collecting pledges. I hit up all the smokeshops on the Reservation for CASH MUNNY. Momma suggested it would be nice if I wore tribal colors - hence, the shopping.

I grabbed a burgundy Reebok running top that I cannot find on the world wide internets, but that closely resembles this top:

It is FANTASTIC! I’m usually not one for bells and whistles - OR criss cross-y straps either, for that matter. But this! THIS TOP! Is a must buy. If you exercise or run.

The fabric, made for wicking away moisture, is soft to the touch. Some of those fabrics feel like rubber against your skin, especially in tropical heat and humidity. While the built in sports bra was supportive, my favorite part was the outer layer - it did not make me look like a sausage. Instead it was kind of loose and flowy, holding its own shape. This was a definite plus for me. I HATE to have stuff clinging to me wetly when I run.

There was a tiny pocket on the outside for my IPOD. I was worried about it clanking against my ribs when I ran, but again, my concern was for naught. While I was conscious of the IPOD, it didn’t bother me at all once I reached a steady pace.

And the best part? Even though I got really, REALLY sweaty, the shirt was never soaked through. Sometimes when your clothes absorb that much moisture you can get chilled. I didn’t have that problem. SO I just ran and ran to my heart’s content.

The only con was that I threw on a small sports bra under it for extra support, but I usually do that anyway.

I *WILL* be buying more of these tops. They are comfortable, functional, and I love the pocket!

Thanks, Reebok!

Driving Ms. Daisy

Suffice it to say that living on Kwaj has taken all the fun out of driving for me. When I’m there, ON the island, all I say is, “I can’t wait to get off this damn rock and DRIVE!” Now that I’m here? Nothing over 45 for me, please. On the freeway? Fuggedaboutit.

Momma usually lets me drive and is very patient with and empathetic too my grandma behind the steering wheel - itis. Catch me a break, will you? I’m used to a bike. As we were driving home today, I was just getting ready to shift into first and start the car when the car behind me honked. I was surprised - the light had been green for probably no longer than a couple seconds. But, the navy blue Malibu, New York license plate #

I *LOVE* teenagers (insert fake smile here).

I guess I took the politeness of teenagers for granted, living on Kwaj. You know, because they know me and know that I will inevitably know their parents at one time or another, they are polite. Respectful. I am polite and respectful in return. We all get along swimmingly.

The teenagers who do not feel they are accountable? Not so nice and polite. Yesterday, td put up a cute little picture on his myspace:

I was happy to see him looking so happy and said as much. I told him that I thought he looked like he was doing one of those Japanese commercials and wrote, “Sugoi! Oishii desu yo!” and thought nothing else of it. I just like to touch base with him every couple of days. I know he doesn’t feel comfortable calling me, so I leave him comments or shoot him a quick line (of e-mail. NOT drugs. Hugs! Not drugs.)

Today, I was looking at the picture again and read one of his friend’s comments. She called me a “Poser Asian” and then wrote, “ANYWAY”. Are you kidding me, senorita “Velvet Revolver”? Just because you are 16 years old and your boyfriend (who you appear to be swallowing whole in your profile picture) just got out of juvenile detention does *NOT* make you a badass.

I shouldn’t have reacted, but I was pissed! I deleted my comment and then wrote to td telling him that I found his friends judgmental and that I was not a poser asian (hey! Did you know that if I change the “s” to “w” in poser, I become a power asian? Woo Hoo! Watch me work!). I am a real Asian. Of the Filipino kind! PINOY! And what is a poser asian, exactly? I know what wiggers are. Does one strive to be a poser asian?

Yet, I recognize this kind of territorial behavior in teenage girls. But. Lean over, because I want to make sure you hear me, princess. I AM HIS STEPMOTHER. I can say whatever the SAM HILL I want to this kid. Unless you are paying his bills? You do not OWN HIM, little girl.

I sincerely doubt one of the kids from the island would have the balls to make a remark like that to my face. Or to my comments. The perceived anonymity of the internet gives these kids false courage. Kind of like alcohol, when I was a teenager.

Cut her off!

Now, I don’t really want to pull out the, “when I was a kid, my momma…” but, LISTEN! When I was a kid? Momma would’ve kicked my ass if I did ANYTHING like that! For reals, tho’. I’m just sayin.

She needs a big slice of ‘humble’ pie, with a side of respect.

*grumble, grumble*

In No Particular Order.

1.) I filled up the TT for the first time the other day. 50 dollars. 50! When I told dh that I was getting screwed without getting taken out to dinner first, he laughed. Apparently, I don’t speak that way oftenly.

2.) I had Buffalo Wings tonight at the Original BUFFALO WING BAR - the Anchor Bar. In BUFFALO! Would it be mean for me to say I’ve had better? I am lamenting that I did not have the balls to buy the chicken wing head - think Cheeseheads (football fans). Would I wear it on the plane? Would it look good on my brain? Am I totally insane? No. No. Yes. That, and I imagine that it would sit in the house on the island, lonely and unworn.

3.) I have found that lack of crime on my Kwajili islands (it’s a long story) leaves me ridiculously unafraid when I know DAMN WELL! I should be afraid. I was driving with Momma today through a rather sketchy part of town …wondering how I should turn around and she said, “Well don’t stop here!” The concern in her voice was palpable. Yet I just drove through it…like I was in a movie. Silly girl.

4.) The neighbors laughs floating in through the window are a welcome addition to my lackadaisical pecking at the keys. Remind me NOT to musically accompany YOU any time soon.

5.) I have to drive to Erie, PA tomorrow to meet a friend from Japan’s baby. Art Teacher’s baby. It’s been over three years since I have sen them. I am excited. A little nervous. What if the baby doesn’t like me? Yes. I am joking.

6.) Still not finished with the book. Can you say, “No time for myself?” I am sure you can. But humor me.

7.) Being slap happy in a public restroom is not such a good thing. I can only imagine what the other patrons thought as I giggled the entire time. From entrance to exit. Maybe I need a sign that reads *Does NOT need medication*.

8.) I CANNOT figure out how to turn Momma’s alarm off. It goes off at midnight. Every night.

9.) I think EX-Y is a little tiny liar. Every time she opens her mouth. She should be a super hero. With a cape and everything.

July 3rd.

I got an e-mail from a friend the other day, noting that he had had a weird day. I know how that feels.

It’s lonely for me to be here without dh. And I don’t really know why he isn’t here, other than the fact that he’d rather be on the island. Every time I come here, I interact with my family - without HIM. I continue my relationships with extended family - without HIM. I go to the gym - without HIM. Yet, I am flying to Seattle on August 1st to be with him and his family.

I do tons of things without him while we are on the island, but we stil come together at the end of the day. Here? I am just alone. When my family asks why he isn’t here, I just don’t really know what to say. Other than that he’s ensconced in some little bubble out there.

And I get the bubble. I hang out with my friends who are motivated, active, friendly towards me because we have common interests and habits…and kind of feel guilty for it here. When I mention going to the gym, my family remarks that I have always been skinny and have always looked young and that I don’t need to go. It is in jest, but I’m starting to feel like the two headed calf in the room. My understanding is that I look the way I do BECAUSE I go.

I always thought that I stuck out here because I look differently than my cousins and my peers in this area, but as I see the new crop of kids that come up who are lighter than me, I realize it is not that. I’m just not from around these here parts, and that’s all it comes down to, I guess.

I don’t think that I am snooty, but I have made different lifestyle choices. I don’t look down on the ones being made here, but I don’t understand them, that’s for sure. There’s a whole, big world out there. It is open to ANYBODY.

Maybe I am lamenting dh’s absence because I am tired of the uttered remarks and glances that resemble daggers over curiousity. Not that I think he would fix everything, but it would definitely send the message that I am married to a real flesh and blood human being who is not as white as you think he is. Not that it would matter if he were.

Family (We Are)…

It’s hard to describe being back home again. “Whirlwind” comes to mind. Exhaustion is another adjective. Intertwined, another. Complicated a fourth.

As the 4th nears, so does the rest of my extended family, as if beckoned by some silent internal devices - telling them it is time to come home. As is common with my family, the more bodies that are up here, the more frantic the pace - everyone running around frenetically ’til we are all spent, sitting around a table at Jan’s wondering what the hell happened.

There are upsides and downsides to the gatherings; they mix and mingle interchangeably with no prior warning. Yesterday, sitting at my newlywed cousin’s house we laughed so hard that J later said her cheeks hurt. I don’t remember feeling that way without those girls, hysterical as we pored over old photo albums and laughed at our 80’s hair - even though it’s probably been 15 years since we all sat together last…it was like no time had passed at all.

As we age, so do our bodies. The rest we stubbornly hang on to. I am always conscious of our personal limitations. I glance from face to face; trying to gauge when it is time to go. When it has been too much for us. I try not to think about how much has changed since we ran around in the dark up on the trestle, racing past the haunted house, chasing the lightning bugs.

Even though I know I will be physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted by the end of this trip, I think it is well worth it. Those moments on the couch and in each other’s company that make me feel 13 again are my fountain of youth.

Words to Woo

This, from tis:

its kool to f*&k (edited, for you!) girls and all but
us guys need our chance too
i mean it
stop turning lez and try being bi
that way we all win in the end
thank for thinking about this

I just don’t even know what to say to this. Does he really think this is going to get a girl all hot and bothered?

Shh! It’s a surprise.

They say anyone can make a book, right? That’s what I’m up to. I’ve searched through photos of my dad and his family life (my mom, my brother) through 3 DECADES and am putting them together in a book for him.

I begged off on Father’s Day, so I figured it better be good, hunh?

I told Momma if there were no tears, I was asking for a refund!

I’m planning on using www.blurb.com. My friend did a book of her time on the island through them and it came out really nice. Looked professional and everything!

So, that’s why I’ve been quiet.

That, and I made it to the gym! YAY!

And I’m trying to figure out what kind of music to download onto the IPOD. We’re so remote, I don’t even know what I am missing!

YES. I am still jet lagged.

You were just dying to know, right?