2009. 2010.

Okay y'all, 2009 is almost over. FUCK, it has been a hard year. Every year is a hard year, and I keep saying "I hope that this coming year is better, easier, happier, calmer" and CLEARLY I am jinxing us because it just keeps getting harder and crazier.

This year has been long. I lost my job, Kane and Jude stopped coming to see us, there were fights and drama, we lost our house and moved in with my mom, and things in general were just weird and creepy.



There were good times, though. There was much drinking, karaoking, dancing.



We continued on with Drunk Psychology, had lots of fun with it, even took it to New Orleans.



We went to Costa Rica and had so much fun WITH NO GODDAMN AIR CONDITIONING.



But there was beer, so it was okay.



We won that contest, the one called "Drive To Tennessee and Pay $175 For the Dog Who Farts More Than Any Other Dog In the Whole World!!!" Duque is awesome and we love him. But his farts stink. Bad.



I turned 30.



Jason turned 35.



Reed turned 4.



My mom turned... 27?



I got to photograph Guster, one of my favorite bands ever.



Kristi and Chris graduated from law school, passed the bar, and got married.



Reed was their cute-ass- if very ornery- ring bearer.



I made some new friends...



And spent time with some old ones...



Jason and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. The fact that we've managed to stay together, to stay in love, to keep respecting each other and keep wanting to be with each other when things have been as hard as they have on every front, is proof that if you work hard enough you can achieve anything in this world.



We got a one-eared kitten who lives in our Christmas tree.



And I managed to stick pretty closely to my resolution, to be more upfront about my feelings, what's going on in my head and heart. It hasn't always been easy, but I've tried to weigh the pros and cons in the situations and experiences in my life and bite the bullet and speak up when necessary.

Here's to hoping that I'm still around, both in the blogging world and in the world at large, at the end of 2010. This ride just keeps getting bumpier, but screw it, I've got beer.

Keep on.

Let's keep thinking good thoughts and sending good vibes and bakin' brownies and shit for Leonard and Kristi and Chris.

Also...

Today is my mom's birthday.

Tomorrow is Leonard Peltier's parole hearing.

And today through Wednesday Kristi and Chris are taking the bar exam.



Let's think some good thoughts, people!

Man, this life sure does get weird. I realize that I just said that, but I am forced to say it again as life continues to chug happily down the road toward OFF THE DEEP END.

I've been feeling kind of melancholy lately; nothing serious, just a constant, nagging, sort of wah-wah that hangs around in the back of my mind. I am hoping that it is a side-affect of going off birth control pills. That and the red sea that I have going on down there in my pants these past few days.

OOO, BURN. Slipped one in there on you guys. Let's just say Tampax ought to be paying ME at this point, as I am single-handedly keeping them in business, I'm pretty sure.

Next week will be a nutty one at work. Both my bosses are going to San Antonio, so I'll be handling all this stuff by myself, and by "this stuff" I mean not only will I have to do my blogging and online shopping, but I'll also have to handle the watching of the drum videos and making of crude jokes. WOOPS! I kid. Wow. I am headed straight for getting fired again, aren't I? We really do a lot of work, and it is twice as busy when I'm alone in taking care of everything.

I am really starting to have some very serious I-wish-it-would-just-go-away-already feelings about a few of the things I've been through. Clearly one cannot just choose these things; I've tried attacking these feelings with the whole spectrum of emotions from anger, to indifference, to hopefulness, to sadness, guilt, regret, contentment, indignance, relief, to pretending that the feelings don't exist at all.

Next weekend we're going to see the Pine Hill Haints at Bottletree, and then it's WEDDING TIME until August 8th. Not mine, of course; Kristi and Chris are getting married on August 8th. Jason is making the groom's cake and is the photographer and is making the wedding cake topper, and I'm the matron of honor and Reed is the ring bearer. It's a family event, folks! We gon' be wo' out by the end of it, I'm pretty sure, but I sure am excited, too.

I've got to get on planning the bachelorette party, including finding a good stripper; does anybody know if David Bowie can dress up as Jareth and take care of that for us?

Happy 30th birthday, Kristi! Have fun at the Phish show! Spin once for me!

On working on it.

So guess what? I argued and big-mouthed my way into Alagasco refunding the $394 deposit we had to pay. It's awesome, and it reminds me that sometimes you just have to speak up A LOT if you want people to listen. (Yes, in fact, everything in that last post I actually said out loud to an Alagasco representative.)

The bad thing is we're pretty far in the negative at the bank after having paid said deposit, after all the fees and whatnot, so the refund is kind of bittersweet. But it's better than nothing.

I've been trying to work through some stuff lately, some nastiness that is bleeding through the Prozac, nightmares and nausea and panic. I'm hoping it's going to fade in the next couple of weeks.

Kristi! In my love letter to you the other day I forgot to even mention YOUR WEDDING! How you're also getting MARRIED! Holy cow! In honor of that fact I have compiled this handy list for you titled The Secrets to a Happy Marriage:

1. Fuck all, really? Am I supposed to know this stuff? Okay, well first tell Chris to see Jason for a list titled How To Deal When You Marry a Looney.

2. I've said before, I'll say again: hide the hammer. You will have moments when you want to hit each other with it. Just going ahead and hiding it will save a lot of pain and grief, not to mention emergency room bills.

3. Later I'll make another list to give you titled How To Deal When You Marry a Laid-Back Hippy. It comes in handy when you're having a total and complete meltdown and your husband is sitting on the couch, eating all your lime-flavored tortilla chips. I would know.

4. Just work really hard, both of you, to help each other. That sounds really obvious and honestly I thought twice about bothering to type it. But it's important, and it's one of those things that can slip through the cracks when you're having a particularly boistrous game of NO I'M RIGHT AND YOU'RE WRONG AND I'M GOING TO ACT LIKE AN ASS UNTIL YOU VERBALLY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT. I'm pretty sure Dr. Phil once said "Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?" (oh, God, kill me now), and that's a good one to think about. Of course I really want to be right AND happy, so you know. That doesn't always apply, Dr. Phil, if that is your real name.

But the helping! Help each other get through each day, whether it's by doing the dishes when the other one is really tired, or throwing the other one's jeans into the washer as a favor (Chris, don't touch the good shirts and sweaters because, believe me, you could fuck those up pretty badly), or bringing home the other's favorite cookies from the store. This might all sound trite and meaningless, but as a married person who is nearly identical in craziness to Kristi and as a person married to a person who is very alike to Chris, I can promise you, IT AIN'T. Small efforts can pay off big time in your marriage. It took Jason and me a while to figure that one out, but we finally got it, and the landscape of our marriage is totally different in some very good ways.

5. Don't forget to compliment or thank each other for things. Don't forget how important it can be to say things like "You look hot" or "Thanks for walking the dog" or "I really appreciate that you swept" or "Those jeans make your high, tight ass look nice".

6. I'm out. I really think that's all I got on advice.

I am just so excited and honored that you've asked me to be your matron of honor, and I can't wait to be a part of all of this. You guys are both so sweet and you both deserve to be happy and to have a nice life together. I am just so happy that you both seem to have chosen the person who can give that to you.

Kristi,

You know I think it's something special that we've been such good friends for such a long time. I don't have any other friends whom I've been close to for this long, and I don't know anyone else personally who does.

It is with that in mind that I say GOOD LORD, we are odd people. I am really, really grateful to have someone in my life who is as much of a freaky weirdo on so many levels as me. I've written before about how we played leggies, but I'm not sure I mentioned our imaginary world that only we knew about and only we could get to, or our Barbie movies, or that time that we thought someone had broken into your mom's house and we armed ourselves with glass trophies. I'm pretty sure I've never mentioned how we've tried our entire lives to somehow become related. First we thought my mom and your dad should get married, then my sister and your brother, and now we're planning how Reed will marry your kid, even if it's a boy because maybe gay marriage will be legal in Alabama by then. And I'm starting to think that if gay marriage becomes legal, maybe they'll just throw in polygamy and we can just marry each other, FOR GOD'S SAKES WE MIGHT AS WELL JUST GET IT OVER WITH. Jason, Chris, Reed, Myrna, Duque, you, I, and little future Steamboat could just build ourselves a little commune and grow tomatoes and shit.

You should know that I am so proud of you for graduating from law school. This is a huge accomplishment, especially since you came so far to get here. And I'm not just talking about Texas, I'm saying you really had to do some traveling to get to this place. I am fairly certain that I would have given up some where along the way and picked up a healthy drinking habit. You picked up the healthy drinking habit AND STILL KEPT GOING, you're a multi-tasker if nothing else and that counts for so much these days. Be sure and put that on your resume.

And HOORAY for your first clients because now you get to be our lawyer! I just have a few felonies that I need wiped from my record. And some debts to erase. And a couple of people to knock off. That's what lawyers do, right? I am totally in to this.

I am happy that we are learning the ability to share our flaws. Because, shh, don't tell, I have some. Ha! ZING! That right there that's a loaded statement. Seriously, though, it is absolutely no secret that I am so far from perfect, and I am so lucky to be friends with someone who can deal with it, who can roll with my imperfections, because I know it is pretty difficult at times. I am not always an easy person to get along with. That's why I pick friends who throw trash cans, because if ANYONE can figure out how to deal with my crazy ass, it's a person who throws trash cans. Right?

Logic: I learnt it at university.

Really and truly, we are alike in more ways than we're different, and I will never know how to express to you how important it is to me that we remain friends. Jason is cool and all, but he cannot sing every word to Deee Lite's World Clique. FATAL FLAW.

Really I should probably also say thank you on behalf of Jason: I don't think our marriage would have lasted this long without you behalfin' some of my shit so Jason doesn't have to be behalfin' it all. YOU SHARE THE LOAD, and I'm pretty sure from that desperate look Jason sometimes gets that he's grateful to you for it.

I think our plan for Chris and Jason to head to Vegas whenever you get pregnant and for me to move in with you is a GREAT IDEA, by the way. Pregnancy is really really weird, especially for people like us who were already just a tad weird to begin with. I can't wait to share that experience with you. When I was pregnant I didn't really hang out with anybody who had been pregnant before, so there weren't a whole lot of knowing looks or understanding being passed around. I'm not trying to say that all of my friends weren't totally awesome and sweet and caring because they all were; but it's just like when I'm sitting there with somebody who knows how to balance a checkbook: I got nothin' for ya. I think it's rad and all that you can balance your checkbook, but I can't really share a whole lot with you about it.

When you're pregnant I am probably going to be obnoxiously all I know and oh, honey, I get it and here come the hemorrhoids and when you're in labor I'm coming in there to get me one of those epidurals and all that shit. Or, you never know, you might be one of those ladies who is a little kooky to begin with and when you get pregnant all those hormones just turn you into a normal person. And if that's the case I'm going to be like, bitch. Because I was kooky to begin with and all those hormones just turned me into kookier.

Anyways, the point is I will be there, and it will be fun and nutty and the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you, and I really hope you let me share it with you. Your body is equipped to build a person. Biology and shit: fuckin' 'ey.

I want you to know that I value every single thing that you bring to my life- your friendship, your sense of humor, your unfailing ability to withstand my finger in your face when you roll your eyes, your faithfulness, the intense love you have for your family, your ability to accept not only my flaws but every one's flaws. You are a beautiful person and I hope and pray that I can bring even a tiny bit of the wonderful things to you that you bring to me.

Because I love you eight days a week. And that's a pretty big deal considering that there are only seven days in a week. Just sayin'.

Part Seven.

This is Part Eleventy-Million of the story of our trip to Costa Rica. Here are Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six.

So, here it is Tuesday morning, Saint Patrick's Day. I am writhing around in bed. No more waterpoop; apparently Costa Rican prescription diarrhea medicine corks that shit right up. But I'm still having the bad cramps and the sweats. I am writhing around, twisting up in the mosquito net, and Jason comes in and gingerly says, "Uh, so, Kristi and Chris are hiking to the waterfalls." We look at each other. I say, "Okay." We look at each other. I writhe a little. He says, "Um, so, do you want to go?" FOR GOD'S SAKES, JASON. NO HIKING. I DON'T WANT TO HIKE. I HAVE NEVER CLAIMED TO WANT TO HIKE. I HAVE NEVER SUGGESTED THAT I MIGHT WANT TO HIKE. I HAVE NEVER LIED TO ANYONE AND SAID "Oh, I like hiking."

Point is, I don't want to hike and I tell him so. Kristi and Chris leave, and I decide that I cannot spend another day in bed waiting to feel better. I get out of bed and sit on the porch and watch Jason draw and play solitaire while I sweat and cramp.

Kristi and Chris come back from the waterfalls with tails of almost dying, having scaled a sheer flat rock face that someone lied and called a "mountain". Kristi and Chris are pretty adventurous so I have to tell you, it surprises me when they come back sweaty and shaky and dirty, telling us that they both got so scared that they were shaking and weren't sure what to do and got lost and were having to leap and grab and pray that roots would hold until they got to the top, where Kristi realizes that the camera is gone. Apparently her purse wasn't zipped and their camera is gone, killing forever any hopes of my ever laying eyes on this terrible climb that they've endeavored 'cause I SHO AIN'T EVER GOING UP THERE MYSELF.

We decide to go sit in the pool for a while. Sitting there, the cool water makes me feel a little better, and suddenly I make a decision which I announce: "Well, I guess I'm just going to see if the beer can heal me, since I didn't have any yesterday and I'm still not well." Chris likes this idea, has been suggesting it all along, and walks down to the house to get us all beers. We float around and drink a couple of beers. I sincerely feel better. Kristi's rash sincerely doesn't feel better. It has spread from her arms to her chest, stomach, and thighs. She still fears that it's a flesh-eating bacteria. She goes to the main house and asks the owners; they say it's probably nothing serious, but go to the Clinico.

Chris and Kristi head to the Clinico in Cobano. She sees a doctor in the pharmacy (I didn't know they did that!) who speaks English (I didn't know they did that!) and who gives her a skin cream and some Allegra and is able to tell her what she is getting and how to use it and what it does (I didn't know they did that!). She comes back, slathers on her cream and pops an Allegra, and gets back in the pool with us. We spend most of the afternoon floating around, feeling better all around, drinking beers.

Was this when we played Euchre? I know we played at some point on the porch. I think this is when. We played Euchre and continued to drink. Later Chris and Jason cook dinner: by now we've been living on a steady diet of gallo pinto- beans, rice, plantains, and any combination of onions, avocado, tomatos, hot sauce, and salsa. At this point I haven't eaten a meal since Sunday night on account of my intestinal distress. I push my food around while everyone else eats. My stomach starts to feel gross, and I give up on the eating. We sit up and play Spades for a while. Around 10pm, I give up entirely and go to bed feeling grody.

The next morning we get up early, pack up, and catch our shuttle back to San Jose. We have to do all that traveling in reverse: head to Paquera, take the ferry, then catch our shuttle from Puntarenas to Hostel Pangea in San Jose. Apparently Kristi's cream has made her sensitive to sunlight and her arms are covered in blisters. It's a pretty hot, sweaty trip, but we make it, and we're STARVING. We go to the Banco and get some cash, then head back to Hostel Pangea for casados.

This is the first meal I have eaten since Sunday dinner. It's Wednesday Lunch. I effectively didn't eat for about two-and-a-half days. I am ravenous. We drink beers and eat lunch and check into our rooms for a little rest. We go walking in San Jose and buy souveniers and meet the funniest, nicest Costa Rican lady ever. She says things like, "Fuckin' damnit!" and "fuckin' shit yeah!" while she tells us how much she likes Americans and how she traveled across the U.S. from California to New York (or was it the other way around?) and how Alabama has the best fried chicken. She said we need to come back to Costa Rica and bring all our kids and stay at her house "and we'll eat some fuckin' fried chicken!"

That night we sit at the bar at Hostel Pangea and eat the tastiest nachos I've ever had and drink Imperial and relax. Some of Kristi and Chris' law school friends have just gotten back from Jaco or Manuel Antonio or some place and tell us about getting pick-pocketed by gangs of hookers and harrassed by policemen (they have to bribe them to stay out of trouble) and going deep-sea fishing. At some point one of the girls says something like, "Well of course we had air conditioning. We had to have air conditioning."

WE DID NOT HAVE AIR CONDITIONING. NOW GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY TABLE.

The next morning, Thursday morning, we head to the San Jose air port and fly home without incident. And that's the story of Costa Rica, in only seven parts.

Contact!

On my way to Costa Rica!

I've actually scheduled some posts to publish while I'm gone, so don't stop reading. Just know that I'm okay; I'm on a beach somewhere watching Jason and Chris trying to surf, looking fabulous with Kristi in our sweet-ass dresses that we bought to lounge on the beach and drink pina coladas in.

I hope to bring back fun souveniers and rad pictures to show you guys what cool-asses we are. In the meantime, y'all ponder ducks in long pants.

Do you like sex and travel?

I'm going to get my passport this afternoon. It's only turning into kind of a pain in my ass, but it'll be okay. I ordered my brand new birth certificate off the internet last week seeing as how mine is just a copy of whatever was laying in the floor in Shreveport. I already got my passport photo from the drug store, and it looks TERRIBLE. So all is right with the world.

I'm starting to think a lot about packing for a nine day voyage to another country, and it baffles me just a little bit. Logically I'd really like to pack as little as possible, but I am TERRIBLE at packing light. I do a whole lot of, "Well, IF it gets chilly I might want this sweater, or I might want this one, but I might EVEN want this one here. And if it's sweltering I'll be needing these three tank tops for sure, but I might suddenly wish I had any one of these five here, so I'll take those, too. It will be warm so I'll take these flip-flops, but if my feet get cold I might want these sneakers. And if we get dressed up I may want any one pair out of these three pairs of flats. And I shouldn't go anywhere without Anal Ease, just in case."

You know how it is. Or maybe you're good at packing so you don't know, so just back off because I am anxious AND obsessive, a nasty mix that will result in Jason stealing the seat next to Chris on the plane so Kristi is forced to sit next to me while I wrap my entire body around her head and scream, "IS THAT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN? DID YOU FEEL THAT BUMP? WHERE THE FUCK IS THE DRINK CART?"

Chris,

Good Lord, child, you are 27 years old. Happy birthday. Change your diaper.

I'm kidding. I love you dearly; I can safely say that I have never loved any of Kristi's boys as much as I love you. I think you are practically perfect in every way in that you are sweet, kind, sincere; you love Mexican food; you love my child; you can have a garbage can thrown at you and still want to be there the next day.



I have often thought lately how lucky I am to be best friends with Kristi, someone who is so like me and who I am so alike to. She and I have known each other a very long time; we have a lot of memories and good times to look back on, as well as to look forward to. I lucked out in falling in love with a man who Kristi loves and respects and likes being around. What is a surprising coincidence is that she fell in love with someone who is so oddly like my man. So it makes perfect sense that I would trust and respect you the same way Kristi trusts and respects Jason.



Chris, one of these days you will have children, and will be expected to be a role model.



Don't worry; Kane, Jude and Reed are all surprisingly normal, resilient, smart, confident, in spite of... some circumstances.



Chris, I hope you have a happy birthday. You certainly have someone wonderful to share it with. Thank you for being my friend, and for being a friend to my children. And thanks for moving closer, so that I may get drunk on your front porch at least once a week.



Love,
Buffy