Big Money

I found a penny in the grocery store parking lot. I saw it as soon as I got out of the car, and just like that I was one cent richer! The Thursday before last I found 4 pennies, separately, on my walk home. Just the night before I found a quarter AND a penny in the yoga changing room.

Cha-Ching.

I haven't kept a running total, but it amounts to more than a few bucks. I netted $1.22 during a 10 day trip to the Rockies. I, very literally, found a penny on top of a mountain. There it was. Sunning itself on the top of Mt. Elbert. A whole dollar came at the laundromat the next day.

But back to the grocery store. I needed quarters for laundry and I failed to get cash back at check out. I rolled the dice and went to customer service, hoping they'd just let me use them like an ATM. I did find a penny in the parking lot, maybe it was my lucky day?

"No ma'am, you have to buy something, at least $1 worth."

"Oh."

"Like a Powerball or Scratchers ticket."

"OH?????? Yes please! I DID just find a penny in the parking lot. Who knows, maybe I will win big and can buy my own washer and dryer!" And some way to get the hookups into my 2nd floor apartment. "I'll take a scratchers and a roll of quarters, then."

"There you go! Good Luck!"

I head to my car and FIND ANOTHER PENNY on my way out. Do people just throw them away???? I get to my car and scratch the shit out of that ticket.

I matched the first two numbers, and then three and after a flurry of metallic shavings were cleared away, I realized I had matched all 5!

I WON $10!!!!!!!

That's a lot of pennies. Thanks Universe. I appreciate ALL the money you send my way. Even the ones stuck in the cement.

I got what I paid for

I bought a Groupon for a facial. Cause, dammit, it was my birthday: Happy birthday to me. And my face. The location was in my neighborhood, which was a bonus. I set the appointment on my Birthday and arrived 10 minutes early.

After about 5 minutes wandering around a very expansive, maze like and sterile office building hallway I seriously begin to fear that I had bought a Groupon for Dexter to kill me. Did this stop me from going into Suite 226? Nope.

The esthetician was ill-prepared for my arrival. In fact, I got there 5 minutes before she did. She came into the spa with a few bags and a pile of hastily folded linens.

"Just have a seat and I'll go get the room ready."

I sit. I wait. The overhead light, kept on by motion sensor, goes out. I stand up.

My "room" is ready not long after then. I am escorted into a large, empty room with a massage table,  lots of face products and a facial steamer waiting in the far corner.

Holy shit. I am going to be sliced by this woman. 

But do Serial Killers really go so far as to set up a legit business only to then run a Groupon and kill people? Do they??? I continue to undress my upper body. At her CD player she takes no less than 4 full minutes to figure out how to work it.

Dying ON your birthday, that's kinda poetic. Right?

But alas, she was no serial killer. I am only going off the fact that she didn't kill me. The facial was OK, she was awkward and her spa had all the charm and comfort of an empty tin can. With bad fluorescent lighting. You're gonna need to put something a little heavier than a cotton ball on your clients eyes before turning on those lights after AN HOUR IN THE PITCH DARK.

Please use your Groupon money and invest in some mood lighting. Or at least some candles.

Chemical Warfare

I did not need another reason for Homeland Security to keep tabs on me. But after this past weekend I may have inadvertently done just that. An upgrade from Terrorist to Bio-Terrorist. While doing a deep clean of my bathroom I accidentally made a batch of mustard gas. 

It was easier that you might think.

I used bleach to clean my shower. I had done a pretty good spray down and the smell was pretty strong. It smelled, frankly, like I was trying to clean up a murder. I poured some bleach in my toilet bowl and then, for good measure and extra "cleanliness," I put toilet bowl cleaner around the upper ring. It turned a yellow-y orange color and started to fizz.

Not taking any clue from the smell or the obvious chemical reaction, I just closed the toilet bowl lid to let it sit and began to clean the mirrors. Breathing was a little difficult and my throat was beginning to get really scratchy. I'll just breath through a towel. 

Then I started coughing. A lot. And by then I was done with the mirrors and figured it was time to scrub the totally safe and non toxic toilet. The mere act of sticking the brush into the bowl created even MORE bubbles and fizzies. No red flags have gone up. After a thorough cleansing I flushed and then Dan (in the other room) put 2 and 2 together.

"We need to evacuate the premises. You mixed bleach and ammonia."

We opened all the windows. I grabbed Sammy and Dan grabbed the computer. Once outside in the "fresh air" he googled "mixing bleach and ammonia" and according to the interwebs doing that creates mustard gas. Straight-up-will-kill-you-no-joke mustard gas.

I felt terrible. But I also felt like a dumb ass. It took almost 2 fulls days for me to feel close to back to normal and Sammy had a little cough and that just made me feel like shit too.

So, that's how I accidentally waged chemical warfare on everyone in my apartment. I hope I can't accidentally make anything else lethal out of household cleaning products. Baking soda and kitty litter doesn't make anthrax, does it?

Any Guesses???

I saw this written on my kitchen dry erase board.

Any guesses on who wrote it? (hint:: it wasn't Sammy)

Any guesses on what the heck it means? 

Sammy Davis Jr VS The Boyfriend

I've been mum about it here, but to those that don't know I am happy to blognouce that I have a boyfriend. Honest to goodness a flesh and bone boyfriend. Depending on how you calculate it, we've been dating anywhere from 9 to 12 months. His name is Dan and he's the cutest thing since LOLZ cat.

And speaking of cats, Dan LOVES Sammy Davis Jr. Well, he loves all animals but he thinks SDJ is pretty special. Without fail Dan will give Sammy treats and LOTS of loving every time he's over to visit. It's unfortunate that Dan is allergic to cats and therefore will get red, puffy, oozy eyes after a certain amount of time. And sometimes he'll get this red, bumpy hive looking thing on his skin too.

But like I said, he loves the little guy.

Then I started to think about it. Dan and Sammy have a lot in common. Both of them came into my life at exactly the right moment, when I was ready for their love and ready to be a responsible pet-rent/girlfriend. Each have taught me a lot about what it means to care for another living thing and with that they both have shown me the reward of fearlessly opening my heart to a new adventure.

But the similarities to do not there! Here are some quantifiable ways in which my two guys are alike:

1. They both love to cuddle. 
Sammy is special because he ALWAYS wants your attention and if you're sitting or laying down somewhere then he wants a piece of the action and will come lay down by you. Dan is the same way. He feels the world would be a much better place if there was a mandatory cuddle hour every day. And I agree.

2. Both are biters. 
If I'm petting Sammy and he isn't into HOW I'm petting him or if I stop all together, he'll bite me. Now, since he's 19 and missing a few teeth, it doesn't hurt all that bad but he still gets his point across, which is "Pet me MOAR." Dan, on the other hand, bites me because he's a little kinky. ::eyebrow wiggle::

3. Sammy is blind in his left eye and Dan is deaf in his right ear. 
Not the same thing, but still...

4. Both got hit by huge moving vehicles and lived to tell the tale. 
When Sammy was living with my grandma, many years ago, he got hit by a car. Poor guy needed a plate in his left hip and had to have his mouth wired shut because his jaw broke. A few of his whiskers are also missing and his right eye (the one that isn't sightless) is a little wonky.

Dan has a similar story. 11 years ago,  he was struck by a tram. I don't want to glaze over this harrowing and terrifying event, but it is truly a miracle that he's alive, let alone functioning at a normal level. This is how he lost hearing in his right ear.

So those are my guys. My Cuddly, Biting, Miraculous guys.

One thing they don't share is that Dan DOESN'T have a problem keeping his tongue in his mouth.

Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter is a Dweeb

I, like most suburban pre-teen girls, had a few baby sitting gigs when I was younger. There was one in particular that was prime because they had a stocked fridge. But THOSE stories are only told at my Over-Eaters Anonymous meetings.

My charges were 2 girls and a boy. None were in diapers and all were expected to listen to and obey authority. It was easy money. One night, while watching The Ten Commandments for the only-Moses-knows-how-many-eth time,  I left them arguing why the Tornado Warning on screen wasn't anything to worry about.
"It was there when mom recorded it."

"But why would it be there now if there isn't a tornado now?"

"Because it was there when we recorded it on tv"

"But why is it on the tv now?????"
Almost done with "making" (slicing apples) their snack - the argument died down and there was quiet. Then Ashley comes running up the stairs, "Tasha, two police officers are here."

What the shit?

I go downstairs and see two uniformed police officers standing at the door. One looked kinda like Tom Cruise and the other like Porky Pig. Tom Cruise Cop tell me they received a call about an intruder in the house and they came to investigate.

"I'm pretty sure it's just me and the kids here."
"Ma'am we received a call that a neighbor saw someone upstairs."

"That was me - in the kitchen."

"Who are you?"

"The babysitter."

"Can we come inside to investigate?" He moves toward to door, I block him.

I ask: "Do you have a search warrant?"

Earlier in the week my Civics class (8th grade Civics class, mind you) had gone over the limits of the police and how they could not enter a private residence without a search warrant. I have an uneasiness around police or any sort of authority figure and I was NOT comfortable letting 2 "police men" into the house. 

Porky Pig Cop laughs.

"No, we don't. But we want to make sure you guys are safe."

"Well, it's my job to keep these kids safe and I don't feel comfortable letting you in the house and since you don't have a warrant I don't have to let you in." I called the mom on the cordless phone and had the officers talk to her (outside) just to appease them.

It turns out it was the crazy neighbor who saw me in the kitchen and called the police.

My Aunt Sally

My Aunt Sally died one year ago. Her physical body was very sick and in a lot of pain, it couldn't go on and she passed away last May. She was my most favorite aunt and hard to believe she was never family by blood. Sally and her "roommate" Connie moved into the neighborhood when I was in the 5th grade. They had a pair of miniature collies and I had a pair of younger brothers who loved dogs. It didn't take long for our families to adopt one another.

In my naive little bubble, the "roommate" story was believed at face value. My parents never talked about it. My dad's ultra conservative culture doesn't allow for homosexuality. If you're found to be doing anything sexual with someone of the same sex they will straight up kill you. I am not kidding. So my dad never, in my presence, questioned their relationship. He had to believe it.

Years went by and with every birthday, holiday and family vacation I began to wonder.

Maybe Sally and Connie are gay? For each other!

This was a pretty big leap for me. I grew up in a community that was both Jesus zealous and old world Iranian (an interesting dichotomy in and of itself). Each one told me that being a lesbian would earn you the eternal damnation of a fiery hell.

They can't go to a fiery hell! I love them! They love me! 

This realization also coincided with Ellen's coming out on in 1997.

Ellen is so funny! I'm not so sure about this "gay people are sinners" thing. 

It would be many more years later for me to ask Sally about her sexuality. She and I were in her classroom (she was a professor) and I worked up the courage to ask. We talked for quite some time about LOTS of things. Our relationship was all of a sudden adult.

When the president signed the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), I was enraged. I wrote a letter telling the story of my beautiful aunts and their committed relationship. The loved they shared was no different then the loved that pulsed through other committed hearts. I could not and would NOT support DOMA.

Suffice it to say, Obama's words this week have bitter-sweetly marked this anniversary for me.

Sally - in both the physical and spiritual world, you have taught me much and more about love. I know that you feel no pain now and for that I am happy and find peace. So why does it hurt?

I miss you.

I love you more.