Sleeping Mommy

BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY FOR PET LOVERS: Dog-tired workers fuel boom in dog-walking businesses

2009-11-19T05:19:00.000-08:00

Busy lifestyles and longer hours are leading to a business boom in the number of professional dog-walkers taking the nation's 6.5 million pet pooches walkies,' according to online small business insurer, Insurantz.com.

Even during the credit crunch, Britain remains a nation of pet-lovers willing to spend on their pet pooches, but with time at a premium in a country which works the longest hours in Europe, many budding British entrepreneurs are seeing the business opportunity for pet lovers. Specialist dog-walking businesses and earn upwards of GBP8.00 per dog for a one hour walk.

The industry of professional pet sitting, which includes dog walking, is now one of the fastest growing entrepreneurial endeavours in the UK with the National Association of Registered Petsitters (NARP) reporting a 59% increase in demand in 2008. The market for dog-walkers has already seen exponential growth in the US, with one such business in Philadelphia grossing $650,000 last year.

The rewards may be great, but Insurantz believes many independent dog-walkers are putting themselves at risk by failing to get adequate cover for their business. In particular, all professional dog-walkers should have public liability insurance in the event a dog causes injury or damage to property while in their care.

James Pickering, Managing Director of Insurantz, commented: "Professional dog-walkers are still a fairly new phenomenon in the UK, so there's a tendency for people not to treat it in the same way as other more established professions. The reality is that dog-walkers face the same, if not greater risk as any other business and need to ensure they have adequate cover to protect them if the worst happens."

Phil Taylor of the National Association of Registered Petsitters added: "We insist that all of our members have public liability cover, but there's still some work to be done to educate the industry that setting up business requires more than a sturdy pair of shoes and a few flyers.

"We see a fair number of claims for dogs injured in fights with other dogs, and a number of our members have had to make a claim because a dog has injured another person while in their charge. Without adequate cover, these people could have faced legal bills rising into thousands of pounds."

Great performance bedding

2009-08-20T10:21:00.000-07:00

With a new licensee and a big new retail program. Top 15 bedding producer Lady Americana is charging ahead in a challenging year.

"The state of Lady Americana is surprisingly good at this point," said Kerry Tramel, president ofthe group, which is based here. "Like everybody, we have some licensees that are really struggling. But unlike other groups, we have a critical mass of licensees that are beating or exceeding last year's numbers."

A new program with Top 10 performance bedding retailer Mattress Giant should put even more wind in the group's sales. eco friendly mattress giant, based in Addison, Texas, recently launched Cristina Saralegui's Casa Cristina mattress line nationwide. The line, produced by Lady Americana, will be available at all of Mattress Giant's more than 360 locations.

Saralegui is a veteran journalist and TV talk show host who is recognized as an influential role model for Hispanic women.

"It is extremely gratifying that Casa Cristina hos become a line of home furnishings whose style consumers have embraced and whose quality they trust," Saralegui said. "So it was natural to partner with Mattress Giant, one of the industry's largest and most trusted retailers, to bring the Encanto and Esencia mattresses into the marketplace."

The Encanto and Esencia models feature 100% natural cashmere, silk and bamboo covers. Esencia also contains aloe vera, which is said to promote a more hygienic sleep. Both models are in Lady Americano's Eco-Comfort collection of green mattress products and bamboo bed sheets.

Lady Americana also has a new Florida licensee. Southern Dreams, which was recently acquired by bedding veteran Leo Echevenia. Southern Dreams, based in Opa Locka, begins its work with Lady Americana with production of the Casa Cristina line and eventually will add the entire Lady A lineup.

"Florida is an exceptional market with a diverse and unique taste, and we are delighted to partner with Southern Dreams," Tramel said.

"They are the perfect partner for Lady Americana. Leo Echeverria, in addition to bringing a wealth of knowledge in mattress production and design, also brings to the group one of the best reputations in the industry."

Echevenia praised the "visionary leadership" that he said Tramel has brought to the Lady Americana group.

Tramel said Lady A is benefiting from problems experienced by other bedding producers and is well positioned to capitalize on opportunities. He said the group has picked up business in a number of key markets.

It's so hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way

2009-04-12T09:40:00.000-07:00

Mister Mc. told me once that his life revolved around my eyelids.

Odd isn't it.

But I guess he liked them.

Does everyone do that---claim one of someone else's body parts---or is it just me and mine? I'm convinced that no one will ever love XBFs ears quite like I do. Or Mister Mc's wrists. Or the very first boy I ever loved's chin. Or even stupid old Jacob's back hairline. For each, I can remember how they smelled, looked, tasted, felt. If I were a better poet, I'd write volumes dedicated to them.

As it stands, I'm a much better daydreamer than anything else, and not a day goes by without minutes dedicated to those claimed pieces of skin.

Odd isn't it.

In other news, I go to school with a girl that really hates to let people borrow her stuff. And I mean, I'm not talking random people here, I'm talking about us, her compatriots, the people she eats, laughs, crys, shoots the shit and works with day after day after day. Today I asked her to use her flat iron (which of course, she wasn't using. And like I mentioned, I'm no stranger, we share soda pop and stuff---I don't have cooties, and if I do, the bitch's got 'em by now!) but man, she was loathe to do it. And you could just see that she really felt stuck...she definetely did not want to lend out her flat iron, but no way did she want to look like a WHORE for not letting her friend use it, especially when she knew that her friend knew that she had it with her. There was no lying, cheating or scheming her way out. So she grudgingly let me use it, handing it to me like she really had something to say, some special care instructions, but opted for the quiet, whorish high road instead.

Annoying.

Funny game! Acne Be Gone

2009-03-27T21:50:00.000-07:00

I feel like makin DUH DUH DUUUNNN DUH DUH DOOON I feel like makin love

2009-02-05T11:47:00.000-08:00

On the agenda for this school-free saturday is painting all my wooden furniture, which is exciting and fun in Amanadoo land because it's the little things that tingle my wingle. Goin thrifting is also in the plans, which is fun and exciting because, well, I like cheap things.

But before I get to all that exciting and fun madness, there's something I have to do first. I believe this portion of my day can be summed up in three words:

White Russians and Tequila.

Evidently some people can't handle 2 white russians followed by 2 [yeup, just two] shots of the good stuff. SOOO, since the kind of people that can't handle such a delicious combination are also the kind of people that aim for the ground outside MY car and miss, I will soon be wrist-deep in vomit at the car cleaning place.

Next time, we take someone else's car.

Stop staring at her sideburns!

2009-01-16T14:45:00.000-08:00

Derik, man, why are you scared?

The more important issue on the floor this evening is what in the HELL is biting me. I've got these wicked patches of rash all over my legs that itch like bug bites. So I scratch and I scratch 'til I bleed.

I know, right. Too much information. But it's buggin the crap out of me. It's not an allergy and I've washed everything so the only explanation I can come with is that there are some kinda mites or something in my house.

Ick.

Anyway, I won't have to deal with them much longer if there are mites here. 'Cause I'm moving! Yay. Dec. 5 is the day. No, still no job. Yes, I realize how totally idiotic it is to move without a job.

Jump off or start ridin bitches!

Spent the night with David last night, and I'm way tired. Sorry for the lame-o post.

Keep on rockin in the free world!

One last lie

2008-12-02T16:44:00.000-08:00

Your sweet Amanadoo is rather pungent lately. I've taken to Chai tea (though I still can't get it right at home...the various coffeehouses do it just right for me) and smoking chives. Add that to the religious zeal I have for my perfume of choice, the baby powder I constantly put in my hair, and it's a pretty smellicious situation. But my friends say they wouldn't have me any other way .

In other news, I am moving!

Cue angels, harps.

S and I found a great place one town over. It's smack in the middle of the various places we go...her boyfriend's house, our respective schools, friends houses, parents, and her work. Which, of course, brings up my biggest concern. I'm moving out this weekend and I don't have a flippin job.

Why don't you just wait Amanadoo?

Well, cause. That's why. See, S is about to get thrown out of her house (crazy parental situation there). And since this is what we've wanted to do since for-freaking-ever, we decided to be ahead of the game and do it now. And if by some freak alligning of the stars I don't get a job soon, we are...well, we're pretty much fucked.

So there's that.

I've found myself in the middle of an envious predicament. Envious if you're anyone but me. Allow me to break down the essentials...

2 boys (well, 1 boy, one man if you wanna get technical)
1 fuckbuddy
1 friend-with-benefits

The fuckbuddy is XBF and it's all fuck and no buddy. Fucktotaldumbass is more like it.
The friends-with-benefits is David and it's all friend and hardly any benefits.

Is there a reason I can't have 1 person that I can be friends with and cuddly with and screw...all at the same time!?!

I mean, really.

Hey little girl would ya like some candy? Your mama said it's OK.

2008-11-25T22:16:00.000-08:00

Well today is the day that we here in America celebrate our dubious beginning.

400-some years ago, a cult of fanatical religious extremists packed up their shit and sailed the ocean blue to find what they'd hoped would be a land of freedom for all....all adult white men who adhered to some really whack rules.

Here they feasted with the natives, who gave them corn and cranberries. In return, they gave them smallpox and venereal disease.

Then winter hit and they all died.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

We might as well be strangers

2008-11-12T22:09:00.000-08:00

In other news, a whole bunch of the seniors at school are all set to graduate. Bummer, I just started to learn everyone's name and now they're movin on to bigger and better things. And there's a mess of juniors that recently came out on the floor, plus a new class just starting. A variety of bitches is the spice of life I guess.

My second best friend's mom went to France and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.

2008-11-07T23:41:00.000-08:00

Aug 12 was the last time I blogged!

Put those incredulous glares away. We have much to catch up on, yes?

First thing's first, you all MUST check out Alexa, who is absolutely awesome (sorry darling, I still havn't figured out how to make a list of links to put you permanently on the side of the page, but if I could I would!).

Secondly, that show *Motormouth* on Vh1 is relentlessly entertaining. I hate to love it, but I can't get enough of that damn show. I was already a total Vh1 nerd-face, but lately my love affair with the channel has climaxed over and over and over...You'll understand more in a minute...

Speaking of climaxes and matters of the heart, much has been going on, starting with one failed attempt to connect with someone. Utter failure. But moving on...

Began a fairly semi-serious relationship with an old aqaintance. I ran into David at a party I went to with Christina and her boyfriend. I originally met him at church a long time ago. At the time he was the quiet, brooding artist guy who took his camera with him everywhere and took pictures of random things. Kind of a snob. Well, he wasn'y so much a snob as he was annoyed by me. I can be pretty rambunctious, and I've grated a lot of nerves in my day. Anyway, we hit it off this time around and I stayed with him that night and almost every night after that for like 5 weeks. He's a really stand-up guy. And his pictures, by the way, are AMAZING.

Long story short, we totally burned out on each other. So I broke up with him. And here's where Vh1 comes into play...

The night we broke up, we had sex for the first time. Yes, I know, things in Amanadoo land work out in pretty twisted ways. Well, in the middle of the act, I opened my stupid mouth and said "Damn! Breaking up with you is the best decision I've ever made!"

Luckily the kid has a great sense of humor.

We're great friends now, and we decided to celebrate our breaking up anniversary (since it was one of the best things we've ever done). On that fateful night, Vh1 was on the TV...playing videos. When we were, er, done, the *Keane* video for Somewhere Only we Know came on. It's a flippin good song!

So for our "breakaversary" I bought him the cd. Guess what he got me! The Keane cd.

We...are...like...this!

The whole cd is flipping good by the way, you should buy it. It's 7 bucks at Best Buy. So there's that.

Also, I tryed to make nice with XBF but he wouldn't have any of it. I think he thinks that my expectations are way higher than they actually are. I love him, yes, and he knows that. But I've learned not to have expectations of anyone, especially him. The only thing I demand is honesty, but for some reason he ducks around questions and I just can't take that from anyone. Notably when I know said person inside and out and know when they are lying and ducking. Anyway, I only ask questions I want the answers to. And I only want answers when I know that I'm totally prepared for what they may be. He, on the other hand asks hardly anything. I guess he doesn't want to know much. I certainly don't volunteer info. I'm not an idiot.

Evil with meat

2008-08-12T21:37:00.000-07:00

A date.

I've known this fella, who we'll call Mac, for quite a while. Until recently though, we were merely aquaintances, notwithstanding the fact that we engaged in some heavy petting, 50's style, the first day we met. But that was a long time ago...I was about 16 I guess. Anyway, a coupla weeks ago, I ran into him at a friend of a friend of a friend's house.

We talked. Since the last time I saw him, he'd gone and graduated. Currently working on a masters in something or other. Assuredly swung his arm around my shoulders as we sat on the floor of the friend of a friend of a friend leaning against the couch. Quoted Pablo Neruda (famous Mexican poet)...a total line, but it totally worked. Said he cooked a mean stir fry and would I like to come over to his place for some sometime? I thrilled him with the heroic tale of how I've managed to completely avoid stir fry in my 20 years of existence. And a "sure."

Numbers exchanged.

After 2 days, he called. The next day he called again. And three days after THAT he called again. We didn't really have a whole lot to talk about, but that's mostly due to the fact that I'm not much of a phone person. The exciting conclusion??? He re-invited me over for that world-famous stir fry. I declined on the grounds that for all I knew, he could be a total creep. No way was I going to his apartment alone. So we decided to go out instead.

BUT WAIT! That's not the exciting conclusion!

The real exciting conclusion came after we played pool. After dinner. After coffee. After we talked about all kinds of relevant, interesting things. After we took stupid pictures on his camera phone. After I went to his place afterall. After I met his roomie. After I played with his adorable dog. After 2 and a half beers. After we watched a movie. Well, in the middle of the movie actually. But definetely after the sloppy half-assed kissing.

Yes friends, the true exciting conclusion to the evening came when dear, interesting, relevant, intelligent Mac engaged in some...shall we say...inappropriate behavior/placing of hands.

The 2 people that I told busted out the big ADR, but I prefer inappropriate behavior/placing of hands. And I'm not one to belittle such things. As a former friend pointed out, I flourish in sadness. Not true, but still...

Everybody plays the fool sometimes. It may be factual, may be cruel

2008-06-29T15:35:00.000-07:00

OF COURSE I knew what to do to keep him.

I am a woman afterall. As a formerly slutty girl, I knew I could move just so and put my hand on his leg just so and say things just so and he'd stay with me. And yet, I didn't.

So he, with his perfect shy smile and perfect house and perfect dog and perfect body and perfect fucking accent and perfect everything got back together with his ex-girlfriend. Maybe it was just too soon to be in something so perfect. Truth be told, I'm still reeling from XBF.

Or maybe it was something slightly more noble. Maybe I can see why she'd call 50 times a day. Maybe I can see why she would do everything in her power to be with with him. Maybe she feels the same way about him as I do XBF. Maybe he looked just a tad too guilty in the morning. Maybe I didn't trust his closed eyes when we kissed. I mean, closed eyes are a must of course, but untrustworthy closed eyes bite the big one.

Regardless of anything else, the only conclusion I can come to about anything right now is that I need, NEED two things: heavy-duty-super-ultra-garunteed-not-to-leak therapy and a man that can and wants to take care of me. Not money-wise. But other stuff-wise.

I'm new to all this. I havn't been alone (or that is to say, I havn't been without someone loving me) since tenth grade. So what do I look for? I dunno. Someone that smiles at me, not just around me...that can plan something to do...a good kisser...believes in something...grabs me (hand, hips, um, et cetera) I def. don't wanna always be the one doin the grabbin...pays...laughs...wants me to meet his friends...better yet, wants to meet mine...cuddles...doesn't always have to be saying something...asks about the stuff I'm up to...I dunno???!!!???

Fairly low standards in my opinion, and yet, it seems like no one meets them.

Men are idiots. Women really just want someone interesting that can slow dance and slow kiss and give some good lovin and hold them. C'mon dudes! Get it the fuck together!

Love ain't worth makin when it makes you the fool.

2008-05-01T17:52:00.000-07:00

Everyone has their quirks. One of mine is an obcession with remembering. My many scrapbooks and boxes of pictures and--most importantly--the various notebooks I write my stories and quotes and poems in are all testaments to that. I'm borderline psychotic with it all. OK, maybe psychotic is a bit strong, but I cherish my memories more than most nonetheless. They are what give you perspective and they are what you learn from. In the end, when you die, they are all you have. And, with a little luck and a few random acts of kindness, you'll go into someone else's memory.

So, what with the craziness about memories I've got, it's all the more painful to me when I have to block something out... especially when it's something that was really really great. I'm thinking specifically of Mr. Mc and XBF. I cut myself off completely from XBF because I'm ready to be loved the way I want to be loved. So he's gone. And Mr. Mc is dead. So he's gone.

I can think about them in generalities only. If thoughts of Mr. Mc's sincerity or pain or arms or XBF's eyes or the way he hated that I wear sunglasses in the rain, it hurts too much to stand. I can't do it. It isn't nearly as intense with Mr. Mc as it is with XBF, because my feelings for him weren't as intense. A fact I am now sad to say I regret. And I know that in time I'll be able to remember every detail without wanting to curl into a ball and sleep for a week.

And the odd part (I'm sure you can all relate) is that I'm fine 23 hours and 58.77 minutes a day. More than fine...I'm stu-fucking-pendous....single, pretty, ambitious, happy, busy, smiley....all that good stuff. The blocking it all out is really working out well for me.

In other news--Fuck the superbowl, fight Fox. But I can't be too angry, they were the reason the get-together was held at which I got nice and fuckered up. {drunk and bitter Boo :) just kiddin} DAMN I love drinkin all night then sleepin all day!

Yes, to rock out is a very good thing

2008-04-26T23:31:00.000-07:00

Hello my darlings, I have returned! We finally got the internet at home, though I daresay we can't really afford it.

Speaking of home, this apartment is the best place ever. It's actually home, not just the place I sleep or the place I visit three times a year or the place I try to avoid my parents. I look forward to coming back after work and I'm loath to leave in the morning. Admittedly, though, that's because I am horrible at waking up. I generally sleep through 4 alarms and S doing her darndest to get my ass off the futon mattress on the floor that is my bed. Regardless, though, I love this place.

We couldn't have found it at a better time. My parents are in the middle of a divorce. Dad moved out about a month before I did. As weird and stressful and hurtful as the situation is to me now, it was tenfold when I was living in that house. My parents have divorced each other before, so they know how to bull-face lie just to stir up trouble on the other persons' end. And the battleground (or so it sometimes seemed) was located right on the tippy top of my head. A crushing force, to be sure. But better I than my little sister, who, by some miracle has remained somewhat unaffected and unjaded. Los parientes have done a good job of leaving her delicate psyche the hell alone. Mine, on the other hand....Well it isn't delicate anymore.

So huge changes have been, and are, in effect. And despite the negativity of it all, I couldn't be more grateful. They are so so so much better apart. Dick Lucas, in particular is a completely different dude. I have never seen my dad so.....human. And happy. Mom never really changes. Thank goodness, 'cause she wouln't be my mom if she did.

I'm so happy with my little slice of twenty-year-old heaven. Got a little bit of money, a little bit of beer, my best bud, a swank place and cute dog. And a stone-cold crush on my boss.

Next time my baybays, next time.

You say love is a temple...you tell me to enter but then you make me crawl...

2008-03-06T21:29:00.000-08:00

U2 is one of the most overrated bands of all time. Don't bother getting your panties in a bunch, I'm apperantly the only person in the English-speaking world that thinks so.

However much they do, in fact, suck, their song "One" is just about as perfect a representation of how I've felt lately as a song could get. XBF constantly has me up and down in mood, and I've grown so tired of it that I can't pull any joy out of what used to be the most amazing relationship the modern world had ever seen. Alas, he will be moving in six months, filling me in turns with relief and dread. And also leaving me with quite a pickle. Do I spend time with him at the cost of my own pride and feelings of self-worth? Or do I write him off now, at the cost of not only the love he's forced deep down in me but an amazing friendship as well?

Pickle indeed. No advice on the matter, please, I'm bored to death with advice, most notably when it comes from people I don't even know.

In other news, let me tell you about my job.

I work at the local Fed Ex. Well, actually there's one closer to where I live, but the one I'm at suffices. Anyway, I SWAK. Sort, Weigh and Key. Boxes come off a conveyor belt, drop down a slide, at the bottom of which I await them. I take the box, sit it on a scale, key in the zip code of where it's going and scan the various bar codes on the boxes, telling the computer what to do with the different codes. Then I send the boxes down another line. Monotonous. But I love it.

The SWAK side is about as long as a professional football field, I work at the staion at the very end. This is a very special station. As the keeper of the station, I am the chosen one. Chosen, that is, to remove anything that jambs up one of the four lines coming in and out of SWAK. It sounds much easir than it really is.

For one thing, I've been terrified of ladders my whole life. Don't know why, that's just the way my brain works. On a mission trip once, where we were re-roofing a poor old womans house, I went up the ladder in the morning (after much coersion) and opted to jump off the roof at the end of the day. I was burnt to a crisp at the end of the trip, but it was worth it to not have to go up and down that damn ladder. So you see that this is no trivial matter. They scare me.

Well, at Fed Ex, there is an intricate system of ladders around the whole place so that every inch of every conveyor belt can be seen at any time. Also, they come quite in handy when fixing jambs. You should see me now, I'm like a freaking albino monkey, hopping all nimbly-bimbly up, down and sideways around SWAK.

See what this job has done for me! Also, my forearms have never looked better.

And, after giving it far more concideration than the matter warrants, I've come to the conclusion that spending five hours a day surrounded by about 400-- 300 of whom are totally hot-- young men, is not a bad thing to do at all. Not bad at all.

I will be the one...

2008-02-17T20:48:00.000-08:00

"You're dude department sounds about as busy as the returns counter at wal mart."

Well, no. Now exactly. The fella that said that hasn't actually seen or talked to me in quite a while, so all he knows is what he reads in this blog. I told him that everything in blogland is just a condensed version of real life, so it isn't really all that bad. Then he made a lame attempt at a dirty joke about condensing something else. Moving on.

The fact of the matter is that while my life in dudes hasn't been all that enthralling, my time, energy and mind have all been pretty much consumed with matters of the heart and, more frequently, the libido.

The faces change, but there is inevetibly something wrong, dirty and rotten and wrong, with the core of every dude that's come around in the last five months.

Not the least of whom was that one guy I had been seeing (I forget the code name I used for him here). Yeah, he attacked me. Choking and hitting for a minute of two from his end and one swift stabbing from mine. The fork I lodged right under his bottom rib, $2, the look on his face, priceless. I found out later through a mutual friend that he'd been tripping on "acid or shrooms or something. Man, I don't know. That's so fucked up."

Then of course there is XBF himself. I finally put his mind games to rest just this afternoon. A girl can only take so much of that stuff. I'm sensitive, damnit, and I'd like to stay that way.

Hmmm, my first, last, and only one-night-stand. That was ineteresting.

My roomates boyfriends twin brother. All I can say about him is that, as a very recently devirginized young man, he should be a whole lot more grateful than he is!

And maybe one or two more drifters that wandered into my bubble but then were sent immediately packing or ran off with their tails between their legs.

But alas! I come to my latest diversion from work, school and play. We'll call this guy Joe. I went to my junior (his senior) prom with Joe. He was soo so so so nice and way cool and hilarious. And I, in turn, was a total bitch to him. I was young and stupid, I have no excuse. It didn't take me long to realise the error of my ways, but by the taime I'd figured it out, he'd graduated. So, for the last 4 years, I'd been wishing I could see him so I could apologize.

But the shamed have to wait. S and I concluded that I may never see him again. So hope was basically lost.

Then, we got hit with that terrible blizzard on the day before Christmas Eve. My apartment complex was, coincidently one of like 2 communities that didnt lose power. So S's parents stayed with us to escape the cold. They left the next morning before I woke up, leaving $20 as a thank-you. S and I were excited about eating a real piece of meat for the first time in a month. So we went to one of the best places in town to get a steak. But they were closed, no electricty you see. So we went down our mental list of places we could go. As it turned out, the last joint on the list was the only restaurant in town (or any surrounding towns) that had power. So we ate there.

We waited to be seated. We sat. We smoked. We placed our order. We gobbled down the chips and salsa. I had to pee. I came back from the resteroom and related to S how the sign about the sink read: EMPLOYEES MUST "WASH HANDS." We chuckled. I glanced to the right toward the register (we had been seated near the bar, where the only cash register was see). "Is that....it is!" S turned to look. It was Joe! "Joe!! Come here!" Joe and his best friend Zak were at the register buying gift certificates.

They came over. Joe has gotten even cuter. We small-talked. They left. S and I looked at each other and blurted out the same thing at the same time, "Why in the hell didn't I/you give him my/your number!?!"

Ahh, but the moment had passed. They were gone.

That night we remembered that he'd said he sells appliances at the mall. So S and I decided that she would go in next weekend and ask if he had a girlfriend. I got goosebumps just thinking of it. But this morning at school, after another night of assholery from XBF, I decided that I was, in fact, not in the third grade. I had to ask him out for myself. Further more, I had to do it right away. So I left, went home, took a shower, got prettyfied and went to the mall.

I saw him right away but he was talking to someone so I decided to wait. Walking through the washing machine aisle, a man with BOB on his nametag came over and asked if I needed help.

"Yes, actually, is Joe here?"

"Yeah, he is, is that all you needed to know?"

"Yep, thanks!"

"Hey Joe, this young lady wants to see you!" He was yelling across like 80 feet.

Joe walked up, "Hey Amanadoo! What's up?"

"I, ummmm, I need your help."

"With what?"

"Well, I, er, um, S and I need a washer and dryer."

"I can't help you. I sell everything but washers and dryers. But Bob can help....Hey Bob! She needs a washer."

Bob smiled and started toward us. Whispering to Joe, "Do you sell refridgerators?" He does. "Well I need a refridgerator. Let's look at those."

He waved off Bob and called me a dork. We small-talked agin about the apartment and his karate class. I whipped around to face him (I think I scared him a little), "I want to take you out to dinner." It's a little blurry after that because all my blood went straight to my face and I got lightheaded. The important part here is that he accepted and we exchanged numbers and he said he'd call me. The I told him a secret...that S's boyfriend had bought us a washer and dryer before we even moved. He called me a dork again. I wanted to hug him, but I said bye-bye instead, walked swiftly to the parking lot where I did a little dance.

I don't think this is what Ray Charles was singin about

2008-02-13T21:26:00.000-08:00

Georgia.

Let me tell you about Georgia.

At my school she's infamous. She's beyond infamous. She's a legend.

No one will do her...which is why all the juniors get her. They don't know any better. Georgia is a nasty old lady. And the nasty goes far deeper than the old lady crud behind her ears. She's mean. And racist. Once, a black student was doing her hair and Georgia looked her staright in the face and said, "We owned 2 of you back in West Virginia." Didn't even bat a fucking eye. She constantly berates everyone she comes into contact with, including teachers, students and her husband, whom she refers to as "the man." As in, "Mrs. [teachers name], why in the hell can't you do your job and get these young women off their fat behinds and have one of them do my hair? The man is waiting for me in the car and I don't have time to wait for all these obese girls to jump off the ugly train." Snapping is involved. And yes, that is a direct quote.

Well, wednesday, all the juniors were busy or on lunch, so Christina was forced to take Georgias ticket. All was going well with the roller set until I showed up. I sat in the chair next to Christina. I crossed my legs. And my foot instantly began shaking, a tick I inherited from Dick Lucas.

Georgia looked over at me with hell fire in her eyes. "You're a lucky young lady that you didn't have my mother."

Without prompting, she continued, "She'd have killed you for sure."

Startled, I asked why.

"You ought to stop shaking your leg like that, it's an ugly habit and my dear mother'd have killed you for it."

"Well, I guess I am lucky I didn't have your mother. She sounds horrible!" Now, dear readers, I'm willing to admit that perhaps that statement goaded her on a bit.

A few minutes passed. Christina swiveled Georgias chair around so that my offensive foot wasn't in her direct line of vision. Alas, the old bag turned herself back around.

Shooting me the evil eye again, she insisted I stop shaking my foot, "You stop that right now or I'm going to bop you in the face."

Again, maybe I had something to do with what came next after I responded, "Do it!"

She reached over and punched me in the shin. Those old lady knuckles hurt like a mother fucker! I said "that was completely unneccesary," and started to get up.

Right at the moment, Christina was walking back from getting hairspray and didn't know what had just happened. Georgia yanked the hairbrush out of Christinas hand, got about 2 inches from my face, shouted "thank you very much!" and slammed the brush down on the station. Rollers and pins went everywhere. She stormed off.

A teacher saw the whole thing and she was ab-so-lut-ely livid. She called the director of our school and told her that Georgia was not, under any circumstances allowed back in the school again.

So there's that. Crazy old lady.

DRIVING WHILE SCANDINAVIAN

2007-09-04T11:24:00.000-07:00

You might know that Germans have a very intimate relationship with their cars. We like them. Most of all, we like to drive them fast. On our Autobahns, people check if their Mercedes really can do the 250 km/h as advertised. There's tailgating, there's swearing and cussing, co-drivers (women, of course) shaking their fists at you and copious amounts of adrenaline being discharged.

Unlike the French or the Italians who partake in risky driving with a nonchalant elegance, we take it all very seriously. You insult my car by driving too slowly in front of me? You're one BAD person, you have no RIGHT to be there, you should be REMOVED. In the monthly magazine of Germany's automobile club, I once saw a (photoshop)picture of that terrible car, that hideous obstacle in front of you being taken away by helicopter. The caption read: A dream come true.

And now, I have been to Scandinavia. The maximum speed on Norway's highways is 90 km/h. 90. That's VERY SLOW. The country has more automatisk trafikk-kontroll thingies than other places have traffic lights. And fines for speeding are high, presumably starting somewhere around 100 € - which results in a religious compliance with the speed limits. Snails' gallop, JH called it as we slowly, slowly passed forests and lakes and forests and lakes.

In Norway, people drive in a very civilized way. I'm sure they have very few traffic accidents there. Everyone keeps a safe distance to the car in front of them. No swearing, no adrenaline. Once or twice, we saw people going too fast, and I said to JH: Look, he's going over the speed limit! And together, we watched the exotic figure disappear in the distance with maybe just the smalles bit of envy, and homesickness.

OSLO II

2007-08-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

We are back in Oslo. The last week was spent in Hørte, about 20 km South of Grimstad in Southern Norway. It is an area where the places have the same names as the people: Hørte is also the name of the family of farmers who supplied us with fresh water and ice for our "fridge".

We lived in a small wooden house on a hill amidst the trees. No electricity, no running water. Lots of silence, wild raspberries and blueberries to pick. Lakes with clear water that was so soft it made my hair all curly. Aggressive moscitos and kind people who came by with cars and, one time, a horse to see us, who told us about life as farmers in a remote place, who listened to what we told them about our lives. My daughter, who finally found the courage to swim with me, clinging to my back. And Rømme, the fresh, thick cream that is had with jam on flatbrød.

Norway is beautiful in a way that Germany just isn't. We don't have pristine forests like the ones I saw, we don't have wilderness or areas where there are no well-marked paths to guide you. Unpaved roads are unheard of, too. We don't have stretches of countryside where all you see are forests, and lakes, and red and white houses - seemingly similar, but so rich in their differences.

I was happy in Hellelandshaugen (this is the little house's name). I felt at peace like I haven't for a long time. There were difficulties, of course. My daughter got on my nerves. JH (aka The Lover) had to, has to get used to being so close to me, and to a little sucker-upper of energy. In the beginning, my daughter was really worried about there being no houses around - but she got to like our little house. I could get tearful in a second thinking about the fireplace, and the view of the wooden shed from the front door, and the taste of those berries. So I will try to make it into a place in my mind that I can return to when I want, wander up the hill, into the front door and through all the rooms, smelling and seeing and returning to a feeling that touched me so deeply.

And since you asked: yes, Oslo is stunningly beautiful, too.

OSLO I

2007-08-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

Dresden to Rostock, ferry from Rostock to Trelleborg in Sweden, Trelleborg to Lund where we stayed at my friend A's beautiful flat. Somehow, Sweden seems to be even more orderly and well-organized than Germany: the highway are sparklingly clean, even what looks like public housing estates are well-designed, and the sign-posting is unsurpassed.

Yesterday, we drove further North. The landscape change from hills to rocks, finally views of the ocean, and fjords - and we had made it to Oslo. The Lover's aunt is an architect an owns a gorgeous house right on the Oslofjord. We went swimming when we arrived, played cards with a handful of female cousins. Watched the full moon hanging above the water as The Lover smoked his last cigarette (he says he's going to quit at least until the next holiday, so I'm not sure if this is a definite decision).

These two days of driving have not been without strain. I have to get used to caring for my daughter all day long. The Lover has to find his place between her and me, between being my partner and something-not-yet-defined to her. And really, hours in the car with a three-year-old just aren't fun. But the sum of these many parts is positive, tired yet happy sums it up I guess.

We will drive on to a place that I think is called Hogen today, to said little cabin in the woods. And continue our experiment in threesomeness.

TOMORROW, TOMORROW

2007-06-07T21:17:00.000-07:00

The longest day at work is the day before your holiday starts. It is another 7 hours until I get to leave not just for the weekend, but for TWO WEEKS! The Lover, my daughter and I will be going to Norway. Tomorrow, we will be taking a ship from Rostock in Northern Germany to Trelleborg in Sweden and then continue in a West-Northerly direction.

My daughter, of course, has no concept of what a holiday is. She understands that I have bought salami, chocolate and drinks that cannot be consumed until "the holiday". She also understands that I won't be going to work, that she won't be going to her Kinderladen and that we won't be at home. And she thinks about The Big Ship a lot, the ship which will hold not only the three of us but where The Lover's car will also be parked. What kind of icecream will it have, she wonders? She has taken ships on the Elbe with her grandmother twice, and they had different kinds of icecream. We discussed this yesterday: maybe the Big Ship will have blue icecream, she suggested. Or cucumber icecream. Or, best of all, vanilla icecream.

Me, I have never been to Norway. In my mind, I have patched together things I have read, things I have been told, places I have been in other Scandinavian countries. We will be staying in a cottage in some remote place. I haven't asked The Lover all that much about what it will be like, because I want to picture it in my mind: lots of wood, very quiet. Beds that have to be pushed together to create a double. A veranda. A view over hills and forest. Personally imported wine drunk from the bottle.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

Monday

2007-06-03T11:16:00.000-07:00

Mondays are very special to me. My daughter stays with her father each Monday. Which means that for one day a week, I come home after work and it's quiet. It's a beautiful thing.

Yesterday, I cleaned, sweeping the floors, picking up toys - and because for once, it was done without thinking that really, I should be playing with my daughter and not do housework, it was fun! On all the other days, I have about 3 hours I get to spend with my daughter after I come home from work and before she goes to bed. This is her time, and I always feel slightly guilty if I do things that aren't part of what she wants to do. After all, I could always do laundry and dishes and whatelse after she's gone to bed. At which point, of course, I am tired, want to spend time with The Lover or just sleep. It's a dilemma. But anyway: yesterday, cleaning all by myself was great.

Then I spent time listening to The Lovely Bones, an audiobook that Radmila generously sent to me. The internet is a generous place: she sent me these 10 CDs, and more, just because I mentioned that I liked audiobooks! The Lovely Bones is a wonderful, touching story. I would never have thought that it could work, a story told from the perspective of a murdered girl, watching earth from her personal heaven. Sounds cheesy, doesn't it? But it's not, it's delightful. Thanks again, Radmila!

Finally went to see Supersize Me with my friend JM. JM lives on sweets, his drawer at work is full of plastic sacks with colourful candy inside. As far as I know, he never eats fresh fruit. He loves fast food, and all through the movie, as the protagonist shoveled mountains of disgusting foods into his mouth, he kept saying Oh man, that looks great! I feel hungry now! Mm! Ah! I had kind of hoped that the movie would, maybe, somehow, reform him, show him the error of his ways, but that didn't work out at all. Not at all at all. JM, I should add, has an enviable body, firm and muscly, broad shoulders, slim hips, a flat stomach with ripples in all the right places... somehow, the world isn't fair.

HAPPINESS

2007-04-17T23:15:00.000-07:00

What is happiness, we asked ourselves last night. You didn't laugh much today, he said. You were quiet, you didn't seem very happy. But I was!, I said. I was so glad I didn't have to do anything, just watch you and my mother and my daughter. I am a quiet person, a serious person, I don't giggle all the time. I am also frequently very tired. But neverthelesse: I'm happy.

This is a happy time in my life. Not happy as in I-feel-good-today, but happy in a more general sense. Happy as in content, as in maybe-this-will-turn-out-right-after-all. I never quite know what I want to be when I grow up, but lately, worrying about that has retreated into the background as I enjoy what is here right now: people I love, a job that challenges me, my homesweethome. Difficulties aren't scary obstacles that threaten to shake the foundations of my being. Anxious thoughts about the future come and go. I seem to do things right at work at least part of the time. My daughter only shits her pants but doesn't pee them any more. And I haven't smoked in four days.

GARDENING

2007-04-17T22:34:00.000-07:00

The clinic has its own nursery (for plants, I mean). There are two adjoining greenhouses and a big garden full of flowers and vegetables. Patients work there, some very slowly, some seemingly not at all, but the two from my ward who go there every day feel a lot of pride in their work - there's nothing like seeing things grow to make you feel better.

It's a place I have loved to visit from the very beginning. You can wander around the grounds through the grass and the mud, touch the flowers, feel the soft ground underneath your feet, ask for the names of plants, smell lavender and roses. Then you can ask the guy who runs the place to pick you a bunch of flowers, that one and that one and a few more of those over there. I don't have a garden of my own (yet), so this one is a sensuous delight to me, a special treat for a few minutes each week.

A SOFA STIRS UP MEMORIES

2007-04-15T19:10:00.000-07:00

Went to pick up my new sofa yesterday, a stylish red thing I bought on ebay. The Lover and I picked it up in Plauen, about a 2 hours' drive from Dresden. The sofa's description had been done very professionally, so I was surprised when the guy who sold it led us to a house where he stores all kinds of junk - and said sofa. He claimed that he had moved in with his girlfriend, now they have two sofas and don't need this one any more... But then again, he seemed to have no idea of how to assemble the sofa, he didn't seem like someone with a girlfriend (although that is, of course, hard to tell), and the sofa looked suspiciously new and unused. I guess it was one of those fallen-off-the-back-of-a-lorry type items on ebay where it's better not to ask too many questions. All I need to know is that the sofa is lovely, can be folded out as a guest bed and can accomodate two people sitting up or lying down.

When I was a child growing up in Western Germany, the names of cities in Eastern Germany had an exotic ring to me:

Jena.
Plauen.
Weimar.
Pößneck.

I knew that they were far away and hard to reach. The farthest away place I knew was Africa, and so I imagined that there were elephants in Jena, palm trees in Plauen, girafes in Weimar and a wide open savanna in Pößneck. We went to visit relatives East of the wall several times, going through frightening broders with mean guards, machine guns and barbed wire - it only contributed to the adventure I associated with the East.

Now that I live here, I am sometimes still disappointed to find that life in these places that once seemed so alluring to me is so very normal, boring even. Plauen was a case in point.

Out of my childhood list of East German cities, Jena is the one place I haven't been to. And maybe I shouldn't go. My mother was born there, and really, I would like to continue imagining it as I used to: an exotic, mysterious, dangerous place just out of my reach.