Wherein the body is broken and relieved of it’s burden

The time has come. Ron has gone in for his prep procedure. The next step is the brutal destruction and reconstruction of his face.
I cannot read his site without feeling the tears well up, without the tender pains in my chest and throat. I am reminded of late night tequila shot parties, cinco de mayo parties, and indian burn contests.
I can do nothing but worry. I am not a religious person, there is no comfort in prayer for me. If you have the privilege of faith in your life, please consider offering up some prayers for Ron.

wherein we protect ourselves

How do I go about getting an exoskeleton?
How do I grow a chitinous plate over my abdomen in order to protect myself?
Is it a matter f ingesting all the right proteins and polysaccharides? Does the mind force the body to process and extrude the right misture so that a glass green plate comes into existence?
I am without physical grace? Will this thick, heavy armor exacerbate the situation or will I be able to compensate as I do now?
Will I find that the thickness and strength will protect me from most things, but ultimately will prove fatal if the blow is hard enough to crack it? Will I be unable to heal it?
how DO we cover the soft spots?

mecha streissand

It is bitterly cold, but sunny out this joyful thanksgiving.
This is my obligatory “whatI am thankful for” post.
1) I am thankful for my family. Unlike you suckers, I got to choose my family. I am thankful for their quirkiness and their generosity, for the stories that fill my soul and memories. Most importantly, I am thankful that they chose me as well, and that they continue to put up with me through my moods, my confoundedness and my overwhelming nature. They don’t have to put up with me, and yet they do for some inexplicable reason.
2) I am thankful for the joy inside me. This joy is internal and has nothing to do with the people around me. Surely I am surrounded by the happiest mix of people and dogs and family one could ask for, but I know this for sure, even if there is a shake up in my life and I lose those people I love and adore, there will still be joy inside me, after the sadness and there will always be my future.
3) How can I not mention David here. Yet another that puts up with me and my petulant moods, my demands, my chronic indecision. He sticks around, he laughs that big laugh when i try to explain how things should be in my view of the world, he makes up songs about trains that go to the moon and he eats my cooking!
4) To makes things even more mushy, let’s talk about my dogs! It’s no exaggeration to say that Ghengis saved my life last year after the break up. He required my attention, he required my focus. he needed to be taken care of and he needed me to stick around, to not drive to the ocean and drink vodka tonics while staring at the surf until my liver gave out. He reminded me to laugh and he reminded me that there was loyalty in this world after all. Then there’s dear Maddie, the definition of sweet, innocent and lovely all bundled in velvety fur and her giant head. I must be patient with her, but the rewards are indescribable.
5) I can cook. Not only can I cook, but it is a gift that I can give other people and they can enjoy it as well. After talking to many people,, i know how lucky I am to be able to invent recipes, to have the instinct to know what disparate ingredients would actually compliment each other. But, also, i do not take myself too seriously in the kitchen. I can appreciate the flavors of a sheep’s milk blue cheese or the concentrated intensity of a good molé, but also, I really really really like cheetohs! David tells me that one day my heart will burst right out of my chest for how poorly I eat sometimes, he’s probably right, but I dn’t mind because there is rarely a bite of anything I eat that is not savored fully, be it a roasted pear, lamb in a buerre rouge sauce or potato chips and cheap french onion dip. I’d give up not a single bite.
I’m off to finish the dishes and dinner.
Go hug somebody and smile.


The sky is manic depressive today. Sunny, cloudy, uplifting, oppressive. I seriously considered leaving early to make sure I could get Ghengis to the dog park before sunset. Then it got cloudy and cold. Then it got sunny again. grrr.
I got my flu shot! FLU SHOT! I was under strict strict orders to get it last year and of course I ignored the doctors and of course i got my ass kicked so hard. This year I did it. Why not, it was free and you get a cookie (one made with crisco, but I’m not going to get all picky about my free flu shot cookie).
And I learned something today! if you have an overwhelming fear of needles, the best way to get a flu shot is to go up with someone with an even worse fear of needles and promise her that everything will be okay. I had to be brave for her and therefore ended up being brave for me! And I got a cookie!
I think all moments of discomfort should be followed up by cookies.
How does a car make the blinker noise? Do car manufacturers actually record the blinker noise to be played in a synchronized fashion with your blinker? Is there a tiny speaker somewhere in the car emitting the blinker noise? For the entire time I owned my Saab, people were always commenting on the blinker noise it made. it was louder than most cars and somewhat more roundy in tone. The volvo (Mabel) has a regular blinker noise that is not much to comment on.
I think I am going to have to bite the bullet and buy a carpet cleaner for myself for my christmas present. I want the special green on with the special 5 rotating brushes (and if i weren’t so lazy, I’d go find the name and the link).
and now it’s time for ‘heather’s retarded conversation corner’
H: I forgot to bring my leftovers for lunch today. I should have it for dinner.
D: (eating something) yeah mrrph can have mrrrph peenacs mrph with it.
H: I can have penis with it? What??
D: No! You can have spinach with it!
And that was me thinking my boyfriend was using my dinner to hit on me in some crude and perplexing way.

singular moments

My life is once again full of those singular moments, those intimate, one time only events. I want to share them with you, I want to tell you about laying in the tub with my eyes closed, swaying in the water as david plays his guitar for me.
I want to share these moments with you, but they are not for you, they are ours. They are held dear between us.
Why do I want to badly to share thse with you? To let you know I’m happy? To create another facet to this green facade you see?
No. Quite simply, I want to share them because this is really the only written record of my life. I should keep a journal but I don’t. I only have this.
In copying over this site to the new one I would find myself thinking “oh, i’m coming up on the time jen and I did such and such” or “hey, didn’t I do this with so and so around this time” and I find that there was so much I did not write about and so much and as time goes on I will forget. And if I forget and there is no written record, does it even matter than these events even happened?
The scent of someone falling asleep next to you, the sound of someone tuning a guitar, explaining that all the good train songs are sung with the capo on the 5th fret, getting an ice cream in savannah, laughing and almost driving off the road in kansas city, trying to talk about the future with your somewhat new boyfriend and starting to cry over your hamburger at the Edina Grill.
If I don’t remember these things, who will?