The Third

You'd think that with me going to see Air Supply tomorrow I'd have all their songs stuck in my head, but you know what I actually have stuck? A mixture between Rush's "Fly By Night" and a bunch of Michael Jackson songs.

How MJ got in there is weird, as I recall his music but I never actually listened to it. And I don't have a television so it's not exactly like it's being blasted at me. My radio station isn't playing his stuff, and nobody on Youtube that I follow is really mentioning it.

You know what it could be is the newsfeeds I am subscribed to that pop up in my Google Reader. I'm only subscribed to the Inland Empire edition of the Press Enterprise, and for some reason he keeps getting mentioned. And for some reason that is prompting me to sing "You Are Not Alone," which I didn't even know that I knew the words to.

The 3rd of July is so anticlimactic. At least with Christmas eve you might get to open one present early, or like how me and David exchange our stockings that night so the kids can have all the attention the next morning.

The 3rd of July? What, "Oh please mummy, may I light just one illegal firework? I'll be ever so careful."

Not here at least. Fireworks are permabanned in Riverside county, and though there are parts of So Cal that allow the so called "safe and sane" ones, I've never lived in one of those cities AND safe and sane = stupid and shitty.

Remember when Rosies would spin around for like 12 minutes?

Now it's like fffffffvvvvvvvvvvvvch. That's it. And it only does one color.

And with the amount of gunshots that can be heard in Beaumont on New Years, you can only guess how many fidiots drinking on their roof are going to be lighting roman candles at pine trees.

Fuck you Coors, for being so inexpensive that the general population can afford to consume you at an alarming rate.

I've not much to say on this the 3rd of July, a day that is hotter than balls. When I return late tomorrow night there will be hundreds of fireworks pictures to sort through and most importantly, Air Supply video.

Is More Freedom Here.

"I never thought I'd say this," Sally says to me, bikini clad and exhausted from a two hour phone conversation with the lady who left the dogs, "but everything was easier under communism."

The lady, she tells me, never finished fifth grade.

"In communism it would not matter. She could have her house, nobody could take from her what she has. Everyone has same amount of butter, eggs, sugar, all that. Everyone has the one car, you cant have more or less than me."

The lady, she tells me, was brought to Mexico when she was 12 to be married off to a man who was ten years older than her.

"You have what you have, and that is it."

Her son, she tells me, is 15. The lady, she tells me, is 28.

"I don't see how communism is the answer Sally, people should have the right to better themselves."

"People should have all the same," she counters. Sally, Mustang Sally who drives that hot red Ford all over the thoroughfare, who had to ask me what "recall notice" meant. "That way nobody goes without."

"But at the end of the day, if you don't have enough sugar and butter, the government doesn't care, that's what's wrong about it--they're looking out for the best interest of everyone, not the best interest of you."

"But if you are communist, you get what you need, and you don't have to know that there is more to have. If your butter does not last you it's because you screwed up. That's enough butter to last for however long they say. If you need more then you need to learn to manage butter better."

Sally the filthy commie.

"I remember when the tourists from other countries like France and the other parts of Europe that did not have communism would drive through our town, and us kids would go out to the streets, no English or anything except for 'gummy!' 'Gummy!' we'd shout at the cars, and they would throw candy from the windows at us. We were barefoot and filthy like gypsies, and then what we did was we sold the candy. And we'd take things from the house and sell them, just whatever, just buy it. You need rug? You need rug, you know? And tourists would buy. I also would go to the...how do you say it? Like...where the fruit is? The trees, we would steal from--oschid?"

"Orchard?"

"Yes that. I would steal cherries from trees on the orchards, they were not our orchards, because this was communism and all the land belonged to the government. But then I would turn around and sell them at the Army base and go ride their horses. Until I turned about 14 and the mens were looking at me in that way, is when my dad told me no more to go over there."

"You've lead quite a life Sally," I tell her. "And I'm sorry that your friend is in such a fucked up situation."

"Ha!" she goes. "That not even half. Her husband has five other kids from another lady in Oregon. I pay the money for the phone number on the internet through one of those people finding websites, and I give it to him for Christmas so he could call them, only for now they to call him all the time and 'dad I need money for this,' and 'gimme money to pay for that.' Is like I did him no favors."

"It's kind of sad that you can just have a bunch of kids and just leave them and then go make more with someone else."

"In Romania, we would not have that. Divorce over here? People have no morals, they just wham-bam-thank you ma'am and then get divorced just as fast. In my country we throw rocks at them who get divorced. You want to get divorced? Aw hell no, you stay with that man, you chosed him. You think you're gay? Come over here, I'll slap the gay right out of you. *whack whack* you still like boys? That's what I thought. Boy go with girl, girl go with boy. We have none of that over there. You go with a girl, even if I have to sit there and watch you do it, you go with a girl. That's how it is."

We're swimming laps and I have a cough, so I'm not really all that into it. I'm sitting on the steps and the water is too cold. I say, "Jesus Christ on a cracker this water is cold!"

"That's another thing, in my country you would have none of this of your not believing in God like how you do. I was like you when I was little, I say to everyone, 'where did the God come from?' I come from long line of priests, and nobody could answer me that. 'where did God come from?' One day my dad say to me, 'everybody have to have a boss, everybody have to have someone to answer to, is just how it is. God is your boss, you are afraid of him,' and that worked for me, I never questioned the existence of God again."

"That doesn't even make sense Sally, that doesn't even answer your question...it doesn't even REMOTELY answer your question!"

"But it worked for me. I have a boss now, one person I'm afraid of. Keeps me in line. I go to church when I want to though, not when I'm told I need to go. In my country, I wouldn't have that choice. I even go to Mexican church here, hold hands with strangers in a circle I don't know. Is more freedom here."

"You going to get your citizenship in December?"

"Hell yes, I'm not going back to that bullshit over there. I like America."

Uncloistering

After doing this whole library thing for a week I've fallen into the routine of it. They say it takes 30 days to fall into a habit, so I'm just excited to have gotten to the routine part. It helps to have it all written down in neat little paper boxes in my planner. It helps to look at it and know where I'll be next Tuesday at 10.

I've seen the familiar faces, the Asian dad who brings his daughters to the Beaumont library activities who I also saw at the Banning library at the puppet show production of "Frog and Toad are Friends." The moms who are actually, surprisingly, talking to me. Mica's mom who talked to me last week about Easy Bake Ovens complimented my "support organic farmers" shirt, and the lady with the newborn totally actually talked to me for a while. The older mom lady who has black children even though she is a WASP like me offered more quips of conversation at the silly putty table like she did last week.

Miss Laura remembered my name because we went to a new story time activity last week and we were the only ones that showed up. She called me Mrs. Terwilliger and everything.

It's socializing, not to the point where it's like that stroller clique that stood outside the kindergarten classroom comparing stretch marks and diagnosing each other's kids with autism. It's good for me. It's good for the kids, of course, because Wade probably wont go to Preschool this year since there isn't one and he's getting the whole socialization thing, but I need that socialization too. I've noticed that when I stay inside too long and only venture out to the grocery store every once in a while, I get all cloistered and paranoid. I'm still paranoid, but not as cloistered. I can hold real conversations with adults, and that for me is hard enough.

I remember when I started telling people in the beginning that I was a housewife. That's when people started dumbing down words around me and asking me if David ever "babysits" the kids so I can get out of the house. That's also when I started reading more and trying to improve my writing skills and when I started trying to finish a manuscript. I wanted a better title for me. And when it turned out that I'm not so bad at the photography thing, I bought a better camera so I could use it to make money AND give myself yet another title. I read a lot and write a lot to exercise my brain so that it wont go to mush and all I really will care about is mops and laundry soap. I hold intellectual conversations with my friends when I can because I just need it. I need something deeper than Febreeze and Fisher-Price.

Driving Ty to school every day did help just to get me out of the house, but I never became a part of the clique nor did I make any friends, or even conversations. I just stood there till the bell rang. I could have just given up and put him on the bus, but I don't trust those bus drivers too much and plus I needed out of the house. This library abuse I'm doing, however, seems to be working fine for the kids and for me. Ty is less destructive because he's using his brain to read and Wade is learning how to use glue sticks and I am sort of conversing with people. It's win win.

And then there's OMG, Mrs. Steppy. She is cloistered and she talks about mops and brownies. I hate to see women pull into themselves and cloister like that. I hate to see when their reality is only what's in front of them and what they're told their reality is. Like sitting in front of a computer or two kids with a vat of Play-Doh 24/7 and then given something that they must believe in every Sunday or else they'll be punished by things nobody has actually seen or been able to prove. I mean, sure they choose to believe it, but what else is their option when they've learned nothing else and have had no challenges to their so called beliefs.

If your beliefs are challenged and you still believe, that's one thing. In fact that's a great thing.

But knowing little more than what your cloistering has allowed for you--

Furthermore, how much do some of these cloistered folks just enjoy life the way it is, and don't really give a shit to learn anything new? Maybe that's what makes them sheep.

And as sheepish as OMG is, and how happy she probably is with the way her existence is just so, I'll be the one to at least extend a hand to her and invite her to the library for story time. Come on, it's fun. Yes there is Play-Doh, but it's Miss Nancy's Play-Doh. There's people there. New people to talk to. And you're surrounded by books. I know all you need is your Book of Mormon, but there are things to be read in other books too. You'll get out of the house. Your kids will interact with other kids.

No OMG, the counters are clean enough. You have a cell phone, he can find you. It's free so it's not all exclusive and snooty like the Gymboree and shit. It's good for you, come with me. We can get tacos later.

I lean down a little to offer my hand to OMG, and I say, "It's really fun..." Wiggling my fingers for her to take I say, "Shall we go now?"

And she doesn't take my hand. OMG says "I read to them here though."

And I say "But these stories are new, and besides, unless you homeschool them they'll be out the door at some point."

She doesn't have to say it. On her face she's saying that yes, she does intend to homeschool them, and it's not because she thinks it will be a better education for them, but because she cant bare to see them leave. To leave with strangers.

"I was the same way," I tell her. "It made me sick to think about taking Ty to Preschool, not because he was growing up but because he would be experiencing something new with new people, new strangers. But I got over it for his sake and I'm glad I did. He enjoyed it. Besides, it's just the library. You have to stay there to supervise them."

My freckled hand reaches again for OMG. "It's really fun..."

"I don't really want to. But oh my god, you're so nice for inviting me."

Crafts at the Banning library this afternoon, 4th of July themed. I'll be there at least.

Rescued

Ayla and Jondolar. Or, "Apple and Pizza" depending on who you ask.

We scrubbed out their cage after dumping a patty of birdseed and birdpoop, and because of all the direct sunlight the cage has been in the bottom tray is all cracked and broken, and the toys are all sunbleached. I scrubbed their water dish and gave them clean food, and then went to Wal Mart to buy them some new toys.

Wal Mart only because I was also out of laundry soap.

I saw the Arm and Hammer with Oxyclean and I bought it because it made me sad.

:(

David and I were on the aisle with air fresheners, and he wanted us to buy a new Febreeze Air Effects since we were almost out of our Crisp Autum scented one. I love this stuff. It works good and it's so good smelly. So we were minding our own business spraying the different scents into the air and taking big whiffs, and just as we sprayed some Meadow flavored one and gleefully stuck our faces in the cloud of scent, a woman came around the corner and started busting up laughing at us.

"Oh my god," she snorts, "you guys could be in a commercial."

Why, because we smiled and opened our hands like wings and sniffed into the same Febreeze cloud from opposite directions? And made a loud and collective sniffing noise?

Okay so we were caught. And I will do it again.

When we got back home and presented the birds with new shiny things and bells and millet, they only seemed mildly annoyed that we were putting our arms in their cages, but I don't think they're tame. They might not be holdy birds but they might be okay with through the cage interaction. They are in fact a boy-girl couple, so nobody has to ruffle their feathers over gay birds or anything, and they constantly make out. They seem to like living inside, but they haven't touched their peach I gave them. And they're enjoying their slantways perch that we installed for them. "Challenge" they say. I think they'll be fine here, and even if those people come back from Mexico I don't intend to hand the birds back over. Their cage was filthy and their old spot had no shade at all. I'm surprised they lived.

There was once a parakeet accident at my first apartment involving direct sunlight. I'll have you know that they were in the shade when I left, but when I came back the shade had gone and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were dead. It was ironic.

Chimay, by the way, the baby parakeet I had a little while ago, climbed out of his cage to freedom some time in the night a few weeks ago. I don't clip their wings at all. I keep my birds inside now.

I'm going to try to feed the birdies a grapefruit because a man at the library gave me a bag of grapefruit. For free. I don't know why.

You know who else I saw at the library is Don Quixote. He was walking around flapping his arms and turning abruptly to face imaginary enemies. He was over in the Sci-Fi section. Good man.

The birds seem uninterested in anything but their cheap seeds, but it seems that no parakeet I've owned has eaten the "premium blend" which includes sunflower seeds and big brown seeds and corns and dried fruit. I'm thinking that these guys were just kind of stuck in a cage and fed sometimes, and they weren't even at eye level or anything. I don't know why this guy was so against me taking them, I mean it's obvious that these weren't really pets. They're not even touching their millet and I've never seen a bird not clear a spray of millet in anything more than 12 hours. I'm thinking they'll figure it out soon enough.

Offering just seed is like offering bread and water to a person, and they actually like to eat fresh fruits and veggies. I saw some African Greys clear a couple of fish tacos at the pet store a while back. They eat like people do.

My next mission is the dogs.

This is one of the dogs, the fatter and less growly of them. The one that was whimpering for help like he's realized that his humans left him. He lives in a hole that he dug in the shade. I am helping the neighbor with a yard sale on Sunday hopefully, and we'll try to get rid of them then.

The only reason why I haven't Freecycled them is I don't have them here with me, and they're all locked up behind a gate. Plus? A stranger trying to take a scared dog from its yard?

Right. Yardsale first.

I don't exactly have direct access to the house either, and the dogs don't know me and also the one is rather growly. Another option is the Yucaipa Animal Placement Society or YAPS, but I'm not sure if they take animals or if they only rescue them from pounds. People tie their dogs to their fence at night and they arrive to find empty leashes because the coyotes usually get to the poor things before they do. I'm not entirely sure how their shelter works. But I will keep you updated because people have seemed interested and sad about the doggies. Hopefully they'll end up with homes, and not taken by the city or anything. Sally feeds them leftovers like potatoes and rice with their Kibbles and Bits.

I'm happy to have rescued the birds though, and also these fine leather couches which my butt sticks to not out of sweat, but out of love.

Coming Off A Summer Cold...

...produces even crappier singing, but the mediocre ukulele stays relatively mediocre.

For Alexandra Bitchford who requested "Sister Christian" plus a very special tribute to start us off. And I do mean special as in "special."

Tonight we are grilling with wolves of the beta persuesian. Of course our upgrade to comfy leather couches will only mean that Steppy stays later. Also after a lot of hard work I've finally gotten correct payment information for the bitches that is Verizon and I got Crapital One to settle for what I wanted them to...just not for the date that I wanted to pay. I'll bitch them around until they comply, but it's a small victory nonetheless.

The birds are well. The dogs will hopefully find homes at the yard sale.

Wade has arm floaties for the pool.

David is teaching Ty how to play chess. David doesn't even know how to play chess. This is fascinating.