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I started using LJ like a blog. Then I started using it like Flickr. Then I started using it like Twitter. Got on Twitter, strted using it like FB. Got off twitter, got on fb. Now I'm using FB like LJ.


Expiration Date

I'ma let the paid options on this thing lapse. I don't need the photo storage space anymore, and I almost never bother with it.

So...yeah. Hit me up on FB if you're so inclined, or HEY...hit me up IRL. Cos, you know, I'm not just a data stream.

Gotta Get Away

I'm pretty sure that Josh, Morgan and I are going camping in the Ozarks in October.

I am so excited I can hardly contain myself!

Still got it

Swedish Chef
Take some chicken (or pork) and its stock, white beans, tomatillos, cilantro, oregano, cumin, serrano peppers, onions, garlic, green bell pepper, zucchini, chayotes, jalapenos and corn/hominy.

Make chili out of them.

Roast the tomatillos and peppers to the charring point and peel them. Use dry white beans and simmer them in the stock with all the seasonings.

Serve this with cilantro rice or maybe make it less liquidy and roll it up in corn tortillas with some quelites (lambs quarters, a typical Mexican wild green).

You'll be glad you did.

Oh yeah.


I love our new place. Josh does too.

Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly
I gotta love one man til I die
Can't help lovin that man of mine

Maybe he's lazy, maybe he's slow
Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I know
Can't help lovin that man of mine

And when he's away, that's a rainy day
But when he's back the day is fine
The sun will shine

He can stay out long as can be
But a home without him ain't no home for me
Can't help lovin that man of mine

Moving on Sideways

Looking down - my REAL hair color
Today we take possession of our new apartment.

I've been in this house for 5 years.

There are ghosts here, in a sense. Too many bad memories and not enough good ones.

So this week I leave the ghosts of pain, fear, hopelessness, craziness, loss, loneliness and dysphoria behind.

Also, Josh leaves his ghosts of despair, poverty, trauma and worthlessness here.

We're bringing hope, abundance, indulgence and love with us.

Wish us luck.

diving into the wreck

i hope i find treasure, not monsters

Love Shack

And by shack I mean more like a quasi-cottage/maison/longhouse.

Apparently Josh has always imagined designing and building his dream house, really since he was a little kid, but had never been able to come up with any particulars that seemed right to him for longer than a day or two at a time, even up through last year.

Lately he has been on this creative rampage regarding this dream house. Every idle moment, he's doodling and annotating a house and garden. He's been talking about this since about February, but it's intensified in the last 2 months.

Last night, for about 3 hours, he and I both got in a flurry of domesticity and documented our dream house and garden.


He declares, "What I want, right, is just my own personal Eden. With my own personal Eve."

I just stared at him with a big smile. "Awww...that's really sweet."

He then went on. "You know I have a hard time using words to tell you how much I love you." I nod. "Well, this (points to the papers)...all of this house and garden, this is what I've got instead of words. This is what I want to do for us. Fuck getting a ring and a big fucking wedding...we're not every getting married anyway, but (clears his throat and gets all serious for a second) this'll be like my Taj Mahal. I want you to live with me here. I'll make it happen and if you take care of everything like you take care of me, it'll be perfect. I promise, I'll make it happen someday."

That is the nicest, most generous thing anybody has ever pie-in-the-sky promised me.

How would it be to live inside someone's dream, made out of tangible love?

Shit just got real.

Not So Lovely or Wonderful

I may have to change email addresses. Somehow my Gmail was compromised and used as a spam proxy. Apparently I sent about 50 emails with a link to a site called medsdirecttabletsworld. What's more, iGoogle is giving me shit about shit.

So. If you think I emailed you a spam link, I totally didn't.

Baby girl and Sonny boy

I never used to like the pet names "babe" or "baby." I specifically requested my men to never call me that.

I didn't ask Josh not to, and that's what he's decided to call me.

I LOVE it.

I melt into a little puddle when I hear him holler, "Hey babe, come watch this!" or say while hugging me he says "Baby, don't worry, I'll take care of that" or when he signs off a phone call with "Love ya, babe."

I've had a paradigm shift.

At some point I started calling him 'mijo' as in ¿Qué onda, mijo?' which he thinks is hilarious, but in my mind he's still my puppy. He's always following me around wagging his metaphoric tail, always wanting to play, jumping in my lap and giving me kisses whenever he gets the chance, rushing to greet me at the door when I come back even if I've only been gone 10 minutes...and widdling on the carpet.

No, not that last one.

:) <3 :)

Latest Month

February 2011


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