Ha!  It’s raining.  There go my plans to do yardwork.  Whew.  Saved.

Anyway,  I’ve had a post about friends brewing (percolating?) for sometime now.  And by that I don’t mean it’s half written and saved as a draft, or even that it’s partially pulled together in my head somewhere.  I mean, I’ve been meaning to write a post about friends.

Recently – that is, the last couple months – I’ve seen a lot of some old friends.  Folks who I’ve known since, oh, the mid-1980’s.  Yes, we’re talking Old Skool here y’all.  You see, I’m still here in the town where I grew up and so I see people come and go and come and go ad infinitum.  It’s a small southern university town with big city pretensions and not a small amount of charm.  And I have space, here at the Starrhill Lesbian Bed and Breakfast Collective, for all visiting parties  So folks come back – for family visits, or whatever – and they stay with me.  And it’s the best.  AJ was just here, and some of the LA kids, and M the Back from Africa, and of course my Blue Rose Girl and the Hard Girl extendo-fam (who are on their way back!  woo!).  They come and they get clean sheets on the bed and a stack of towels (or a reminder that the towels are on the shelf above the mirror in the bathroom) and a key and off we all go.

And then there are the old friends who’ve stayed, or come back to stay – T, from Tuesday dinners, and the LB, natch, and others to whom I cannot link, but who y’all would *love*.  Love.  I swear.  They’re here, these old friends, folks from school and from the theater that I’ve known for my whole adult life and longer. (And the Secret Girls I can’t name here.)  They’ve formed what and who I am and I count back the years with them with pride.  Good old JG dropped me off from our trip to the market a few weeks ago and asked me if I knew how long we’d been meeting early Saturday mornings to buy produce and snark on whoever we saw – 15 years, he reminded me.  Fifteen years.  That’s the quality of folks I spend my days with, yes it is.  Teh Best, I tell you.

And then, somewhat out of the blue, other old friends show up.  The girl from elementary school whose daddy I ran into outside of the computer store and the two folks from middle school who both live here but who I rarely see.  And I *like* them.  They’re still the same old folks, after all this time.  Not in the sense of stagnant, but in the sense of here we are – living our lives as best we can.  I’d like to say it’s me, but, again, Teh Best, I say, these folks around me.

And the neighbors?  Let me sing their praises.  Kind and generous and watchful. Random gifts show up on my porch, because the woman across the street was thinking of me at a yardsale.  They throw my kittens back inside when they escape and and they bring me bags of apples from their trees for apple pie and loan me Havahart traps to catch stray cats.  They have me over for dinner and stop painting their kitchens to install my sump pump.  They win, yes they do.  I can hear them right now, in the post-afternoon-rain summer-porch way that we have in Starrhill.

And the Montessori people? Yes, them.  I’ve sung the praises of cho-girl, so you can just do your homework for that (but who knew she’d come with a whole extendo-fam of in-laws, too?), but there are others, too. The rest of them have joyously supported all my ttc efforts – with package delivery signing and general ass-covering for my million RE appointments.  That shit’s not in the job description.

And then there’s you.  All you internet people.  The ones I don’t “know”, but who speak, directly or indirectly, to me every fucking day.  Whose lives are inspirational – in that Making It way.  I know you because we’ve all tried to do something very hard – to make out our own map of how we want ourselves and our families to be. And I see you.  I see you making it every single fucking day.  Though the crap results from your bloodwork and the insurance bullshit.  Though breakups and stupid, stupid regulations that try to say how a family can be made.  Through poorly informed but well meaning RL friends and crazy internet drama.  Through your kids that make you nuts and your families that don’t realize the gems they have in you.  You pull though those things to make a map of a beautiful life and I see you.  I see you do things for each other that take my breath away – kindness and compassion and generosity to people who are nothing more than some HTML shot from one spot to another. I see you and I look to you for nothing more than hope.  Hope that is served up in spades every damn day.  For Example.  Note the double lines, yes, and then note well the number of motherfucking comments.  That’s what I’m talking about, y’all.  That’s the shit I’m talking about.


Leftovers – yay.  From here.  Pork tamale with beans (black, but everything else was so good we’ll over look that) and rice.  Log your lunch, please.

Also, I heart my RE.  I really do.

july food posting?

I just got an email NaBloPoMo – did I get that right? – telling me that July’s theme is food.  I want to a) blog more, b) talk about food all the time.  But my posting regularity has been – well, less than regular.  So I am waffling.  Anyone else doing this month’s NaBloPoMo? (write that 5 times fast) Anyone I could pressure into doing it with me?

What post yesterday? Oops. The heat seems to be back – I struggle to blog in the heat.

So some shit went down on the internets in the past few days. Whew. It seems to have passed now, but good lord. It was crazy. Crazy, I tell you. In a nutshell, a friend of mine (who I won’t link to until she says it’s ok – hint, hint) asked, quite nicely and clearly, if some folks over at FF (the site we love to hate) could take care with posting about their pregnancy-related drama. Posting said drama on a ttc board. And they wigged. Wigged and soooo over-interpreted what she, and then a couple other people, said. And posted lengthy, blinky-laden, “positive” energy filled (N.B. sarcastic blogging there) rants about why they were being kicked off the ttc boards. So stupid. They weren’t. Anyway, it was ugly – there was whining on the part of adults (wah, you don’t want me, wah), there was snottiness (harumph, how dare you ask me to be aware of other people and how what I do affects them?), and “The Secret” was invoked (because clearly lack of pregnancy after more than a day of trying is directly correlated to lack of ability to correctly Manifest One’s Dreams, or some such bullshit).  And the child-like sense of entitlement – jfc.  How grown people can make it through life thinking they can say and do whatever they like, with nary a thought to how other folks might feel is beyond me.

But then, like the climax of a bad Western, the Posse rode into town, cleaned things up and rode on out.  Who put the P in the IVP?

Oooo, internet drama – kind of like trashy tv.

Don’t know what a blinky is?  Count yourself blessed.

**** PSA: When speaking to people who are trying to get pregnant, do not ever, ever, ever indicate that if they just imagined/visualized being pregnant it would happen. They will stab you in the eye and then you will be out an eye.**********

life, i needz one

I am addicted to lol-ing my kittens.  *sigh*

funny pictures
moar funny pictures

lunch, what lunch? how about pants?

Can you believe I forgot to log my lunch yesterday?  Summer has bitten me in the ass, y’all.  Truly.

My small, auxiliary red-head is back from her week long vacation, so I am “working” again.  So far this week, the boy kitten has napped with her both days.  This is like heaven for her.  Sophie, my pretend child, aka my pre-teen, original red-head, is just back from a weekend trip to NYC.  I have yet to get the highlights.

The Starrhill Lesbian Bed and Breakfast Collective (see my old Friendster profile) is currently occupied.  Occupied by the fabulous AJ.  Woo!  AJ!  Hoo!  So far we have:  had whiskey, caught up, sat on the porch, mirated kittens, had dinner, learned about the Quiverfulls (no I wil not “bless” them with a link), had mroe wiskey, and continued to mirate the kittens.  Fun!  You wish you were here – and I do, too.

Lunch?  How about lunch?  Not pants.  I mean, I am wearing pants…..  Anyway.  Yesterday was the last of a leftover fritta that was less than good at 5 days out.  I tossed it and had chips and salsa from the day before (not spicey enough, but the the chiles have yet to come in, so there you go).  Today was leftover breakfast from the diner – egg over easy on a biscuit with ham and a tomato slice with the best hash browns in town (original meal with cho-girl and largest cho-boy, the other smaller one, my tiny bf, was a camp at the SPCA, because he loves animals Teh Best).

almost as good as my word

Remember this?

I’m going to try to pull off a password protected post shortly – woo! New Skillz. It’s IVP-only, so you IVP kids can email me at starrhillgirl at gmail, but I’ll distract all you other folks with pictures of the kittens. Yay! Kittens!

Look down – I finally did it.  Whew.  You’ve got to love promises kept.

ETA – it seems I was a tad over-zealous with the privacy thing.  I think you can see any and all posts now.  Oops.

Protected: the real deal, or something

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

moar postz, promise

funny pictures
moar funny pictures

funny pictures
moar funny pictures

I want to blog more.  I do!  hd swears says she’s going to get up and write in the mornings.  I’ll see her getting up and writing and I’ll raise her – ah, nothing.  But I will blog more.  I will.  Maybe not every morning, but some mornings.  Plus lunches.

Meanwhile, have some kittens.  (thanks cho-girl)

lunch (again)

Hey, I’m kind of posting this in real time today!

Red lentils with tiny potato bits and some weird post-nuclear kind of cardamom pod.  Spicy collards (from the farm).  Cucumbers with the last bits of I’s fab green goddess dressing (recipe to come, I swear).

What did you have?  Log your lunch, please.