Found: Random Exercise from Old Notebook

“I bet all of this will be over soon,” Judith said. She set the bunt cake on the wet counter. The pan rattling against the Formica, sizzling.

Anna wasn’t comforted—not by the smell of cake or by her sister-in-law’s attitude or by everything she’d looked up on the Internet about her symptoms. Her condition on top of her condition.

“It just as likely that it won’t be over soon,” Anna said. She put another cherry in her mouth and bit gently, as not to crack a tooth on the seed. She tossed the stem on the pile next to the pitting machine. “Aren’t we done yet?”

"No," Judith said. Anna picked up a handful of cherries and put them in the bowl. She turned the crank to roll them around until all of them had been taken in by the crank, had the pit forced out of it and been spit out the other end.

Judith’s forehead was shiny. The wallpaper curled from the heat. Anna felt like taking her shirt off, and her obnoxious, sticky, tight bra. It was all very restricting. She leaned back in the kitchen chair, the baby weighing on top of her, her breasts spread from their resting place on her stomach. She could feel prickling hairs in her armpits.

Judith turned to her. Anna got up and walked into the back yard. She looked at the tree, and put her hand around a limb—flexible enough to sag with cherries but strong enough not to crack. There was a breeze at the top where the branches were thin and light flexible. She shoved her foot in the crotch of the branches and hoisted herself up.

The Year-Ago Game

Every New Year my sister and I make two lists: “What I Got Out of Last Year” and Goals for This Year. For instance, last year, Emily wrote “Goal: Increase physical phitness” next to which I scrawled “Teach Emily how to spell.” (She’s 32.)

We also play the last-year-at-this-time game.

A year ago right now: Lived in Minnesota. Just finished semester 1 of grad school.

Two years ago: Living in Oregon. House-sat a big, drafty, scary house with weirdly slanty floors. My best Australian friend just died. I was pretty much on a gin-for-dinner diet for about a week.

Three years ago: Lived in Australia. Taught friends how to make snow angels in the sand at the beach. Swam daily. Drank fruity drinks in the hammock strung up between an orange tree and a fig tree in the back yard.

Four years ago: Worked at a winery. On vacation high up in the Cascade mountains. Friends had a bonfire in their yard so huge that it practically lit the sky on fire. With a running leap, we all sledded down their hilly, remote street.

Five years ago: I just moved to Portland, Oregon, and was working my first job out of college and hated it. Lived in a shared house with a crazy model-turned-Buddhist and a psychotic 45 year-old waitress.

top ten favoritest christmas gifts

in no particular order:

1. a jar of red pepper flakes (madre)
2. a shot of goldschlager chased by a santa-shaped chocolate (buckaroo: "oh my GOD. i feel like i just snorted christmas right there.")
3. my car washed by hand (little sister, who is broke)
4. 3 loaves of homemade raisin bread (gram)
5. a pair of 80's-style white sneakers trimmed in hot pink (kate)
6. a beer at Pugly's Mug in Napanee, Indiana, and a really awesome hug (josh, who i haven't seen in half a decade)
7. a trip to the dentist (padre)
8. three beautiful lacy silk antique slips, .50 cents each, from the tiny resell shop in my hometown (self)
9. a throw rug made of shreaded, woven old towels (mom)
10. a bag of homemade candied nuts with a note reading: "enjoy my nuts. love, em." (big sister)

anyone else get anything good?

post finals vacation-itis

Ah, the end of finals week and my school friends and I seem to be in recovery. I bet Voix is busting out the tiara, Jessi is finally showering again, the Captain is contagious, Michelle is in family crisis, Lorissa is missing, and I, darlings, have had a mostly crappy week. I am glad to see it end. I am also glad that the FedEx man just delivered a huge box of Godiva, into which I shall dive mementarily.

Why is Godiva so delicious? Why is there a plush reindeer wearing a Santa hat on my desk? Where did lawyer T. get that God awful rotating fake Christmas tree that glows red, yellow and blue? Why do all the clients who walk in here sweat nervously and ask me to sign paperwork next to a box marked "Witness?" Why did Britney Spears let Kevin Punk-ass father her child? How can I resist the urge to answer the phone "Good afternoon, we know you're guilty but we want your money anyway, may I help you?" Why do coffee filters make such funny hats? Why won't the vending machine maintenance guy make out with me in the janitor's closet? Would he make out with me if I wore a tiara? Gave him Godiva? If I made out with Britney Spears? What do you get when you image-google Mandolin Elvis Mouse?

Ten Awesome Things About Being Single

A friend of mine is tired of being single and of bad dating experiences. Well-intentioned friends are telling her that it (you know, IT) will happen when she stops trying so hard, or when she tries harder, or when she stops emitting the wrong vibe, or when she just keeps being her awesome self and all the other crap people (myself included) say to make single people who are bummed out feel better.

Let’s be honest here: having romantic love can be great. So can being single. And because the majority of people who want a life-partner eventually get one, single hood will end and take some of the good things in life with it. Here is what really makes me feel better when I'm down on being alone.

Ten Awesome Things About Being Single:

1. Being in a relationship that sucks (or going through a breakup) is a nightmare; being in a relationship that is undefined or sketchy is anxiety ridden. I don't wonder where anything is going and whether I want it to go there.

2. I'm more likely to go out and go DO fun stuff—stuff I may not have tried otherwise—than when there isn't a default person at home to just sit around with.

3. I will never fold Dan's rugby socks EVER again. I will never listen to Nate pick his fingernails. I’m not worried whether J is cheating on me. And this Christmas, the only mother I will have to deal with is my own.

4. Shave my legs regularly? Whatever.

5. I thoroughly enjoy sprawling out in the middle of my big comfy bed by myself.

6. I spend more quality time with friends and am more open to new people coming into my life. More importantly: I am more aware and involved with the truckloads of love I receive in my non-dating life: my student who told me how much I helped her, my dad who sends me cute emails about how much he misses me, my best friend who sent me her lucky disco dress from New York for an important party, my boss who sent a card thanking me for work that inspired her, my girlfriends who can make me laugh and cry in the same hour...

7. I don't have to worry about getting stuck with anyone else’s life-crap for an indefinite period of time: his messed up relationship with his siblings, his job angst, his drug use or financial irresponsibility or anything.

8. I can pack my bags and fly to Italy to romp around with a hot, younger fireman whenever the hell I want to.

9. Going out to dinner with guys can make you fat: see. Really, I’m more likely to slack on exercise/reading/homework/me-time with a man around.

10. To reiterate (it’s a big one) the general freedom to do what I want when you want to with whom I want and not have to consider anyone else. Fling with a rich investment banker? If I feel like it. Spend a week getting certified to scuba dive in Thailand? No one to miss terribly. The dirty dishes in the sink for days? Mine. And there are the little things: No one talks me into ordering pizza when I really want Thai.

Until I want a relationship and someone worth giving that stuff up appears, I'm gladly hangin' onto it.

List

Shamelessly stolen from the Voix.

1. What did you do in 2005 that you hadn't done before?
Got a poem published. Started helping people in a more hands-on way.

2. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Sort of. My cousin's wife had a baby and my friend Erin's due any minute.

3. Did anyone close to you die?
No.

4. Did you travel? Where did you go? Best holiday memory?
Yes. Portland, Oregon, NYC, Italy, France, Monaco, Spain. Best memories: Thunderstorm while camping on the Oregon Coast, Hiking through olive fields in Cinque Terre, Lying on the beach with an expensive cocktail in Monaco, the soccer game in Spain and, lastly, coming home. Ah.

5. Best thing you bought?
Boots in Spain. My education.

6. Where did most of your money go?
School, life and travel.

7. What do you wish you had done more of?
Reading. Working.

8. What do you wish you had done less of?
Putting up with men's shit. I was too optimistic and loving, if that's possible. I usually have a good dating life, but this was an insanely bad dating year.

9. What kept you sane?
Friends, school, books, writing, my friends' inexhaustible patience, my own inner strength. Tequila. Just kidding.

10. What drove you mad?
The way a few "loved" ones treated me--the confusion and hurt. At times, I really didn't like the person that turned me into.

11. What made you celebrate?
Starting a creative writing program for refugees, and all the support I've received from that. My student's reading was amazing. My friends' successes.

12. What made you sad?
War, human suffering.... Heartbreak and disappointment.

13. How was your birthday this year?
Awesome. It was beautiful outside. I was surrounded by friends. The Voix threw me a fabulous party and I went to a comedy club and dancing. Love birthdays.

14. What political issue stirred you the most this year?
If it counts as politics, all the suffering from war. All of it. It's atrocious. A disaster.

15. Where you in love in 2005?
I thought I was, but now I'm not sure if that was love at all.

16. What would you like to have in 2006 that you didn't have this year?
More inner peace. A job that's worth my time. A healthier outlook on dating, whether I'm single or not. More discipline to do creative work.

17. What date from 2005 will be etched in your memory and why?
October 21. I was in a gorgeous town in Italy with someone who made me really happy then.

18. What song will remind you of 2005?
Probably a song by the Killers--can't remember the name of it.

19. Compared to this time last year are you happier?
On this exact date last year, I was probably happier then, but I didn't know that shit was about to hit the fan. Last year by the end of December, my answer would be that I'm happier now. By FAR. I have absolutely purged my life of several toxic people and situations, but this time last year I didn't know some of them were toxic yet.

20. Biggest achievement this year?
My success in school and teaching writing.

21. Biggest disappointment this year?
A job I was thrilled about didn't work out at ALL. Also, a few people really disappointed me. Some other people also really, really came through for me. It was definitely a year that showed me who is devoted and authentically cares versus those who needed to get lost. I was surprised--pleasantly and unpleasantly--many times.

22. What is the one thing that would have made you more satisfied?
A solid job where I can give and contribute and be treated well and have financial security.

23. Best new person you met this year?
Michelle, Lorissa, Jessi & Michele (who I technically met last year, still), Alison, Dan M., Emily, all the people at FIRE.

24. A valuable life lesson you learnt this year?
To be more protective of myself. Not to let in anything toxic--a person, relationship, job or situation. I knew this before intellectually, but it was really tested this year.

It was... SOAP POISIONING

I could be at home in my flannel pajamas watching A Christmas Story, Best of Saturday Night Live Christmas (Schweaty Balls, anyone?) and my favorite sappy holiday flick, Love Actually. But am I, you ask? Am I curled on my couch with peppermint-schnapps infused cocoa and Scott Farcus? No, I am not. I am sitting in an office in an itchy wool skirt and tights that make me feel a bit like a breakfast sausage.

Soon, I will go to my small hometown for an old-fashioned, obligatory Christmas. Because it is unbearably rural, these trips are traditionally coordinated with my best friend who now lives in NYC. We get quite bored.

Because B.'s dad is the mayor and her brother is the town cop, kidnapping the baby Jesus from the courthouse square, holding him out the sunroof of Mr. Mayor's Firebird while cruising cross-town laps is frowned upon. So last year we got drunk at the Stag.

Patrons of the Stag are predominantly male, look over 50, work at the local plastics factory, haven't touched a razor in a decade or seen a woman under 60 in as long, and think that the District of Columbia is an island in the Caribbean.

Music stopped when we walked in. We reconsidered. Just then, a fellow half hidden under a birds-nest beard called out to us by name. It was the guy who used to buy is beer in college, who we hadn't seen since 1993, who proceeded to buy us shots of Goldschlager until B. got so drunk we had to call her brother. It just isn't Christmas until a 6'7" cop walks into the bar, tosses your super-hammered best friend over his shoulder muttering, "You are such a dumb ass" to her and the guy who bought you beer 15 years ago shouts "Are you still single? Can I get your number?" as you open the police car door so Copster can toss her in the back seat.

This year there will be no Goldschlager. Except the bottle I buy B. as a Christmas gift.

biker bob's java garage

sounds: pleasant electric guitar and a man's voice. the guitar could be mistaken for hendrix until the man start's singing. now it sounds like scott r., my huge crush in college, who was also an english major. we took this weird class together where we lived on communes. once, we were at this weird commune in rural indiana that really creeped me out, and i didn't want to socialize with the group in the evening, so scott came to me where i was curled in my sleeping bag on a pine floor, and played the guitar and sang to me. when he thought i was asleep, he touched my hair and said, "you are lovely," and left.

smells: warm banana bread with melting cream cheese. i try to picture the barista, a large woman with multiple piercing and strong fingers, stirring a bowl of batter. is banana bread mix called batter? she doesn't seem domestic, but she's very sweet and gives me free coffee at the end of the semester during finals when my loans have run out and the new check hasn't come yet. every time i try to pay her back she swears she doesn't know what i'm talking about and won't take the money. i tip her extra well.

sights: two men--one in a business suit, one in a black sweatshirt and jeans with oil stains. many tattoos. they talk about stripping. wood, i mean, furniture. they talk about kinds of stripping and sanding, getting coats of things on, cutting doors and prepping them to go in. i think yes, strippers need coats. then i picture a dresser in a coat. my sisters and i used to hang around my father's hardware store listening to conversations about finding old pieces of furniture, of being able to see how sturdy and tough they are. they don't make them like this anymore. quality stuff that's meant to last, that people throw out these days because they're afraid of a little work, of putting in a little elbow grease. then i think of our old neighbor who used to help my dad recover furniture, and how the neighbor looked like very very much like spock. so we called him spock, and once my sister called him spock to his face (did he even have another name?) and got in Big Trouble for it. the smell of lemon oil reminds me of spock.

feels: no matter how much i layer, my toes are cold. tights, socks, another pair of socks, thick boots. maybe the extra socks are cutting off the circulation to my toes. my legs are warm, my neck is extra warm on account of the rockin' scarf jessi knitted for me for my birthday. i remember getting the scarf--we were having post-dinner chocolate cake and red wine. it was so hot--august--and i remember thinking how beautiful it was and how looooong i'd have to wait to get to wear it. ha! how long. august feels like yesterday.

tastes: coffee, of course. my mother tells me she's going to give me her french press for christmas so i don't have to spend money going out for coffee. i tell her coffee isn't always the point of going out for coffee. this is the same french press i gave her for christmas the year i didn't let my then boyfriend come home with me. i didn't want him to. i didn't like him enough. took my french press and left my pissed off boyfriend at the gate—you could leave people at airport gates then. i hauled that coffee pot from oregon to indiana. now she's giving it back—she's given up coffee and drinks tea instead, which pleases her greatly. i drink coffee. it may be bad for me. i asked a doctor once if it's bad for me, whether i should give it up to be a healthier person. he said, "what are you catholic?" which reminds me of the last time my parents came to visit. it was summer. we were grilling dinner on my deck. my father opened a second bottle of wine and my mom said "another bottle? really" and my dad said "what are you, protestant?"

why i love my friends

A letter from one Miss Tiffany:

"In today's news, it was reported that an exuberant female resident of the East Bay performed an impromptu one-person dance-party wearing a fuschia tutu, juggling 15 bottles of champagne and swallowing a flaming sword as an over-excited Jack Russell Terrier dry humped her leg. According to amazed bystanders, this unusual performance was spurred by the fact that the obviously unhinged female had FINISHED HER FREAKIN' THESIS. Ha, booya, in yo' face and did I forget to mention that I ROCK! Just wanted to share the love ya'all.

p.s. Moneypenny, the guilty Jack Russell, has submitted an official apology for her appalling breach of etiquette. I was so overcome with gratitude I promised the chastised pup that she can have free access to any of YOUR legs, should anyone feel like a visit. How's that for incentive, mmmmm, puppy-love."