Bugs Bunny is a jerk

A bird just flew into the kitchen, with a little green worm in its mouth. This is why marriage is ordained of God-because men need to deal with gross things like this while the woman stands clear imagining the bird pooping on her head or getting all Alfred Hitchcock. Perhaps the bird was after my fresh Hawaiian Sweet Bread loaves. They turned out muy excellente! Something not so excellente? Today's shopping excursion. Olive has wanted to get a "funny birthday card" for Dorothy. The FOUR aisles at Target couldn't satisfy her, nor could the TWO aisles of cards at CVS pharmacy. Instead, we had to walk down the street to this dumpy Jewish mailing service and look at their selection of 10 cards, because that's where she always gets her cards. It was not a fun day. Call me crazy, but just because you're old doesn't mean you've "earned the right" to be snarky. You earn the increased patience of others, but you don't have free reign to be mean or demanding or all the other vices no one allows in younger people.
As I was cutting some potatoes to make Parmesan Potatoes for dinner, I realized that I don't like the "Butt Ends" of things. Bread, potatoes, sausage, bananas, hot dogs, etc. I always cut them off or leave them. Why is that I wonder?
I've had to watch Olive every time she gets near her mail. You see, there is a wonderful lady in the ward that comes over every week or two and goes through the mail and explains the bills and writes the checks and generally does all the finances. Olive, however, tends to open the bills and peer at them through her magnifying glass, even though she knows she can't see. If she thinks what she is looking at is unimportant or she doesn't understand it, she tears it up and throws it away. Today she tore up a big bill from her accountant and she was trying to tear up some very, very important papers for her husband's trust. Margo has told her that she tends to throw important things away and that she shouldn't throw anything away, just in case, but....So I went through some of the things she had bundled together and labeled "Davis" and found some things for the trust (not Davis's). She said something about having Margo just pay Davis's bills so they stop getting sent to the house and I said, nicely, "He's an adult. He needs to learn to take care of himself." She said, "He doesn't have any money." I bit my lip to not reply. First of all, don't get me wrong. Davis has been really, really nice and I'm so grateful. However, if he can afford a brand new iPad ($500) and applications ($10-20) then I'm pretty sure he can help with his bills. I don't begrudge people getting help from family, that's what family is for, but when you're too lazy to take care of yourself? I have a problem with that. She keeps worrying (surprise surprise) about him getting work so the studio she put money into will pay off. Yeah, about that. In order for things to happen down there, he should probably spend more time promoting it and finding clients than getting drunk and stoned with friends. This sounds terribly snarky and ungrateful of me, I know, and forgive me. I just find it very frustrating to watch certain types of people get an easy life handed to them, and then there's those of us who struggle to put food in our mouths. I would love an iPad. And a car. And a nice apartment. And to not worry about financial things 24/7, but I'm not about to bleed an old woman dry for it.
The missionaries came over Sunday night because I'd asked for a blessing at church. Poor boys. They probably have better things to do, but I couldn't get by without them. They're like watching a couple of children sometimes and it makes it like I have a family out here, instead of being stuck with a depressed stroke victim without relief. They always show up at the moment I need them most and they always have the perfect thoughts and scriptures I need to hear. So I told them what has been going on lately and asked for advice and what not and told them what I've been doing to fix things. There's always that wide eyed look, the one that says "Wow, that sucks." Then slowly things start to click together. Cute little Elder Ardiles (mi hermanito burrito) gave me advice his mom gave him when he was in similar circumstances. Then Elder Hessing had a thought that he didn't know how to put into words. Finally he was like, "I can't receive revelation for you, but perhaps you're going through this because sometime in your future will go through it as well, perhaps far longer than you, but you'll be the only one they can turn to because you can say 'I know how you feel'. Maybe a child or friend or your husband." That last one made me want to throw up. That thought scares me rather a lot. He repeated again that he can't receive revelation for me, "but what I just said feels right." I trust him. I'd kinda wondered about that briefly, but considering the significant lack of inspiration/revelation/companionship of the spirit I've been enduring the past few weeks I need to hear it from someone who DOES have the spirit with them. They gave me a blessing before they left and during it their cell phone kept going off. I thought it was a little funny. But after they left I felt better than I have in a while. We'll see how the rest of the week goes.

The wreaking ball knows your secrets

As I was walking outside tonight, I found three snails huddled together on the step. As this is not usual for snails to do, I leaned over for a closer inspection and discovered that they were feasting on the squashed remains of a fallen comrade. I find this disturbing, especially since it's all being done in slow motion. You can almost hear the sucking sounds as their goo digests the rancid remains. We warn children of the Boogeyman, snails warn their young of hungry friends and neighbors. (Don't you dare stop for a minute Little Johnny, or grandma will eat you!) It also brings a whole new array of meaning to "Keeping up with the Jones'." You keep up so you can take a bite of that mushy, mucusy backside. Yum. Getting me some Snail Tail.
I tried to make chilaquiles tonight for dinner. Epic fail. I think it's because I used enchilada sauce instead of tomato sauce and salsa like I've done before. And I put Velvetta'd hamburger in it, which was a waste of yummyness. It's been a while since I've had good, spicy Mexican, which is ironic considering how close I am to Mexico. Most people joke about Mexico taking over California, but around here it's being taken over by the Jews. Not so great in the culinary department. I peer over my shoulder guiltily when I look over the bacon and sausage at the grocery store. (It's kept in the far back corner of the store, which I find funny for some reason.)
I'm enjoying driving the Mini Cooper around. I don't like Minis I have decided, but it's fun to punch the gas at stop signs and hit 40 mph in like 4 seconds. I've gotten to where I can use the back roads instead of Ventura Blvd. Some of the houses on Wells Drive look like castles or gingerbread houses or something out of posh magazines. However, I have to not pay attention to the lush, beautiful gardens because it just makes me irritated that they steal water from the parched desert (and consequently the Native people) to pretend the desert of SoCal is a jungle. All that political crap about needing more water for the burgeoning population. Maybe if people worked with their environment, instead of fighting it, people wouldn't be panicking about the lowering water levels in the Colorado River and elsewhere. Elder Ballard wrote that governments are instituted of God and men and women will be held accountable for what they do with governments and within governments. Every time I read that I think of all the people who are going to have to do some serious explaining about the disastrous policies geared towards and affecting Native people. America can gripe about Obama and his health care plan all they want, but they have NO idea how ridiculous the American politicians can be. Ironic, in a way, how mainstream America is getting a small, almost inconsequential taste of what Native people have been dealing with for centuries. They're like the wizened elders looking on at the impetuous youth, nodding, and saying, "Yes, yes. I've seen this all before."
On an unrelated note, I realized today that 100% of my PSS (Priestood Support Service) either are serving an LA mission, or have served an LA mission. Hmmmm......

KEXP Song of the Day rocks!

I watched the second and third episode of Lost and was still so bored, so I'm not going to finish it. I really really really don't care what happens to those people. I wikipedia'd the gist of the episodes and I'm glad I stopped. Lame.
So last night I read Olive something her sister Dorothy sent, some stories about a great grandmother of some sort. Olive kept saying things like, "Can you imagine?" and "Isn't that interesting?" And I sat there thinking, "I don't find that side of the family interesting at all." Does that make me a bad person? I've never really been all that interested in that side. I've always both identified with and have been more interested in my mom's side. And the older I get, the more I care about that side as opposed to the other. Then again, Kendra is the complete opposite, so I suppose it all balances out.
So the toilet overflowed last night. I was making brownies and Olive was doing the dishes. (She doesn't do a great job, but I think it makes her feel like she's contributing, so I let her do them. And then I don't have to do them. Bonus.) She was saying the water wasn't draining in the sink and then I heard a tinkle of water in the bathroom in the next room. Lo and behold the floor was flooded and the toilet full of dirty water that smelled like butt. So I tried to plunge, but it was so full of water I couldn't get the thingy to plunge properly. So I had to take a bucket and cart the water outside. Then the buzzer rings because the brownies need to be checked, but I was trying to get the toilet stuff fixed, so I just took the brownies out even though they could have used a few more minutes. Unfortunately, the toilet wouldn't plunge, so I just tried to sop up the water off the floor and Olive called her plumber (who is originally from Argentina, but his mom was German, so he doesn't look dark at all). So I showered to wash all the poo water off me and my shoes and then had a brownie. Which kinda tasted like poo smell. But I have been eating them anyways because chocolate is God's gift to women, even if it's slightly pooey.

Kill Me!

So I watched the first episode in Lost, to see what all the fuss has been about. Could barely get through it. I had to force myself to finish the episode. I'm pretty sure the thingy in the trees is either 1) a dinosaur 2) an alien or 3) a crazy guy in a machine of some sort. Or maybe a giant race of primitive peoples. All four of those ideas however are LAME! I'm going to see if I can get through the second episode tonight. I was thinking maybe the first episode sucked because I kept seeing all these completely ridiculous medical things. For example, the pregnant woman who falls ON HER STOMACH on the beach when something blows up, but she's "okay" later on. I don't think so. And the doctor doing CPR for like 2 seconds and the lady (who had air blown into her stomach but for some reason didn't throw up-yeah right) is suddenly okay. When you do CPR on someone, their ribs separate. She didn't look like she had rib problems. And certain people were looking WAY too suspicious, so you can pretty much either kill them off or rule them out of anything related to the crash. I have a feeling this should have been a movie, not a TV series.
At any rate, after watching that and limewire-ing tons of songs, I said prayers before going to sleep. Yeah, knelt there so long I had like permanent imprints on my knees. Is it possible to pester God when you spend months and months for an answer to a certain question and still end up empty-handed? Bollocks.
I was in a relatively good mood this morning, then I got all these letters from student loans and realized how big a mess everything is because MSU Financial Aid office SCREWED ME BIG TIME when they sent my loan money back instead of using it to pay off the rest of my bill, LIKE THEY PROMISED THEY WOULD! May they have terrible smelly gas at inopportune times.
I am so done with my current situation I could scream. But then I remember that when I leave I'll have no money, no job, no nothing. I've done my share of nothingness in life. Kinda want to be spoiled and have a roof over my head and food in my fridge, to eat my fill instead of stopping and knowing I have to save some for later or I won't have any later on.
And I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to be around poor/average people again. You would not believe how tedious it gets to be around vain people who throw money around like toilet paper and put so much importance on social status until you want to give yourself a lobotomy. I really need to get out of here before I turn into a horrible person, if I haven't already.

Say wha? Oh no she di'n't!

I forgot to write this yesterday:
As we were walking into the medical center building for Olive's appointment, we passed by an elderly obviously Jewish gentleman. He was broad shouldered, but stooped, and wearing a nice black suit and black hat that reminds me of golfers. As we passed each other, he nodded politely and said, "Good mOrning" (with an emphasis on the O) in a slight accent. First of all, I felt like I was in Victorian England, where people actually greeted each other with good mornings. Secondly, no one in LA ever meets eyes, let alone greets a stranger. And he wasn't like a creeper either. I think it was because I had an old lady literally on my arm. People are more polite when they see me walking around with her. Maybe they can see the desperation on my face.
Today Olive wanted to go to Macy's to look for "white slacks". First of all, who wears white pants any more? So we drive down there and she's looking around and, as I suspected, there wasn't a whole lot of options. So I show her a few that I find and she keeps saying no, they're too heavy. Then I show her some that were actually cute (except for the fact they were white) in beautiful white material that was really light a flowy, which is what she kept saying she wanted. She didn't want those and kept asking if they make white jeans. I kept telling her yes they do, but they aren't going to be "light" and would be "heavy". We had this discussion like four times in that hour and a half. Each time it was: "They don't make white jeans do they?" "Yes they do but you said you wanted light material. Jeans aren't light." "These are heavy material." She points to her khakis. "Jeans are heavier than those." "I want something light." Wait about 20 minutes and repeat the conversation. You really do turn into a child when you get old. She insisted that Nordstroms was close to Macy's and I said it wasn't, but she wanted to walk down there and lo and behold, she got tired and said it was far away. Hmmmmm. I have also told her the pains in her neck and on her scalp are muscular, but she didn't believe me until the doctor said the EXACT SAME THING! And when I tell her she's doing great health wise, again she doesn't believe me until the doctor runs a bunch of tests and charges her a fortune and says the same thing. It's like kids when they don't believe you and have to get into trouble to prove you right. At least with kids you can be firmer and lay down laws.
On a different note, my books arrived from the Distribution Center. The other day I was sitting there reading Our Search for Happiness by Elder Ballard. It's a brief overview of what Mormons believe. Olive asked what I was reading and says, "Read some out loud." So I did. And today she had me read 3 more chapters. I knew it's been a while since she been really into the church, but I had no idea how far she's drifted. The book discusses basic beliefs, a Primary child could explain most of it, but she kept saying things like "How interesting" and "I didn't know that" and so on and so forth. She wants me to keep reading it to her and since the Christlike thing to do is to read, I will read. The whole reason for ordering the books was to bring more of the Spirit into the house, so....
On yet another different note, as it gets closer to leaving here (like 28 days) I get more excited, but I also get more and more nervous because I will quite literally have NO money, NO job, NO way to pay bills, and NO where to live.
Today's example of the blessings of tithing: my bank account went from less than $90 to $350. I've no idea how because there isn't anything new in the activity and everything seems to work out mathematically. Awesomeness.

Jews and Joints

Logan focusing very hard on his drums.

Logan rocking out with Davis. It was so cute to watch him following Davis around. And then he decided to take one of Olive's canes and destroy the flowers, bushes, and trees because he knew I was on the phone and couldn't come after him. Brat.

Davis on his drums in his studio.

An odd picture of Davis playing on his drums in his studio that smells like ganja. The smell makes me nauseated.



This morning Olive had a doctor's appointment and had to have blood drawn. Last night I got NO sleep, so I was a little short tempered and exhausted. Note the sickly pallor of my skin and the dark circles under my eyes. I was sooooo tired.
This is me falling asleep outside the restroom, waiting for Olive to leave a urine sample. The scarf is new. It's different looking, so I like it.My new Mezuzah. After the doctor's appointment, we went to eat and after that we walked into this Judaica shop just to look around. I asked them if they had those things that go on the door frame for protection. I saw it on Fiddler on the Roof and I've always wanted one. So I got the one above. And actually, a Mezuzah is the two chapters from the Torah written on a piece of paper that is rolled up and held inside this cute metal thing. The purpose is to remind people that God is One and to remind them that the holier they keep their house, the safer it will be. It also hangs as a reminder for when people are walking into the house: are they thinking thoughts or carrying an object that would offend God? The Hebrew letter is the letter Shin, for Shaddai, one of the biblical names for God.

Ever since I read Follow the Stars in elementary school, I've wanted a Star of David necklace, but I wanted it to be unique and not cheap and junky. At the Jewish store, the had a lot of the Hamesh hands (aka Hamsa Hand, Hand of Fatima, Hand of Miriam, Hand of God, Hand of Protection). They apparently protect against the evil eye and evil in general. Then I saw this one with the Star of David on it. The Star holds a lot of symbolism, my favorite being the number seven. It has 6 points, and a 7th in the center, reminding people of the six words of the Shema, and the 3+3+1 on the Menorah. Not to mention the fact that the number seven in the scriptures symbolizes completeness. So this necklace is like complete protection. And cool looking.

My chicken exploded

Once again, there is very little to say to my loyal blogowers. I'm dreadfully bored and sooo ready to be done with all of this. It's bringing out some not-so-nice things, like when Olive complains about how active her life was before and how she wants it to be that way again. I was sympathetic (empathetic?) about it when I first got here, but when she turns down opportunities to go out with friends and then complains about being bored, I lose my sympathy/empathy. And a very small part of me is thinking, yes your life may be a bit boring now, but you had a very exciting life and now it's other people's turn to have experiences. She keeps wondering why she didn't just "go" when she had her stroke because "it would have been easier" but then I think she's still here because (this may make me sound like a horrible person) she's a bit prideful in a LOT of ways and this has been a big humbling experience. Also, it has been a test (I think) for her family, to see how they handle it. Although it would be nice to have a grandparent leave me a trust fund, I look at all of this and am grateful I don't have everything handed to me. I don't want to be like that.
On a different note I'm dreadfully bored. I try and lose myself in a book or with story scribblings, but it's not easy to do when someone keeps calling you back to reality. Today she sat down and asked me what I wanted to do. I told her I wanted to sit on the couch and write. Then she kept insisting I must be bored and must want to go somewhere. I told her I didn't, but if SHE wanted to, we could, she just had to name it. "Well, I want to buy some white pants." (Eww) "And then we could have lunch somewhere." I replied, "Well, it's lunchtime now, so by the time you got ready to go, it would be past lunch time." She said, "I think I'm getting the feeling you don't want to go anywhere." "I already told you I don't, but I would drive you wherever you wanted to go." We've had many conversations like this. She wants to go somewhere, but refuses to admit it and tries to get me to say I want to go somewhere. Or she'll be feeling depressed and keep asking me if I'm "blue" or "down" and ask if she did something to upset me. I've learned that when she says this, it's because SHE is feeling down, but won't admit it. Everything may be wrong with everyone and everything around her, but heaven forbid she be less than perfect! See what I mean by problems with pride? You can be put in situations like this and it can refine your patience and compassion, but I think that after awhile, you use so much of your patience and compassion, than instead of refining it, you start to lose it. And your mind goes with it and soon you start to look like Helena Bonham Carter.
Speaking of which, I really like Juliet Binoche. She's pretty, but a normal person pretty. And I loved the hair of the chick who played Alice in the new Alice in Wonderland. Sigh....I'm so bored.