Thanksgiving

Before...
Originally uploaded by daramcdactyl.

Everyone wore their paper hat that came with the Christmas Crackers. I know, it's not Christmas, but no one has Christmas dinner anymore. It's all about Thanksgiving. And the jokes were actually kinda funny this year:

"What type of sweet swings through the jungle?"
"Tarzipan!"

They must have hired joke writers at the cracker factory this year.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

O Tannenbaum

As has been custom for the last few years, at least the ones in which I was in this country for the end of November, I have put up Christmas decorations right after Thanksgiving. This year, I was determined to keep that tradition even though everything else in my life is on a brand new schedule.

On Sunday, I set up the aluminum tree I purchased off ebay just before they became fashionable. The original box is really showing signs of wear and tear and I wonder how many more Chirstmases it will hold up. The tree itself is in no better shape, some branches are saggy and some of the aluminum "needles" are so bent out of shape, it looks more sad than festive. But once the tree was up, it looked fine.

Last night, I decorated the tree with newly purchased PINK clear ornaments. I couldn't have been happier to find a large selection of baubles in my favorite color. I mulled some wine and enlisted the help of New Boyfriend. I was enthralled with what his artistic contributions might be to my delightfully pink confection. I was not disappointed. His eye for composition resulted in a beautifully decorated tree that I am quite proud of. As Let It Snow played in the background for the eighth time by the fourth singer, it occurred to me that there are only about a dozen Christmas songs that play in heavy rotation at my house each year. Sure there are different variations by different singers from different eras, but there hasn't really been any decent additions to the Christmas collection since the 50's, Chipmunks notwithstanding.

I'm also disregarding Country Music, since I tend to disregard it altogether. That genre seems to find a way to make Christmas sappy and maudlin every year with some new addition to the cache involving dying children, dying parents and not enough money for a last Christmas present before he/she dies.

My New Boyfriend was raised in Switzerland, which I assume makes him privy to all sorts of Christmas music I never learned at Park Avenue Baptist Church. I should have him sing O Tannenbaum to me. In German. There must be some other songs from EuroChristmas. St Nick? Father Christmas? Isn't there some type of an anti-Santa that threatens children when they are bad? Doesn't he have a theme song?

It's November 28th and I can't get Sleigh Ride out of my head.

Purgatory

Last Saturday, a bunch of work friends went to Bar Sinister, a local Goth bar for the weekend warrior type of Goth, not the lifestyle Goth. I had my photo taken. You can view it with a lot of other interesting works here.

All in all it was a fun night. I'll never wear the 6" boots again. I didn't get to dance at all. I barely was even to stand at the end of the evening. Good thing there are lots of places to sit!!!!!

Pictures from the bar will be here.

Look for Nov 4.

I have a real date.

I have been asked out on a proper date.

What makes this so unique is that I cannot remember the last time I was asked on a date. I have always done the asking. When I was in High School, a girls Catholic school...insert fantasy here, we had to ask boys since they weren't around. We had to go and find them. Find them we did at the boys school. I prefered MBA, Montgomery Bell Academy, supposed inspiration for Dead Poets Society. Some prefered Father Ryan, but I found the persistant chewing tobacco and brass knuckles to be off putting. I fell in love with Ed Brown at MBA. I did a play with Ed at MBA, went to concerts with him and was even in a band with him. And I did ask him out, but as he put it, "My girlfriend wouldn't be too happy about that." Much later, years later, I finally caught him between girlfriends. I lived in Chicago at the time. I traveled down to visit him in Nashville and stayed in his beautiful turn of the century house. It was magical. I instigated everything on that trip, as I remember. What I didn't instigate was his complete denial that anything ever happened. Ah well.

I asked Russ out on our first date. I asked him out again. I asked him to move to a new town. I asked him to marry me. I always do the asking because I don't like to wait. And I have no shame.

And so I have been asked. I said yes. I think I like being asked.

hjlafdbjnm

I worked todat from 9am to 9:30pm. Then I had to pick up some groceries. For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to get a home waxing kit. As if I would proceed home and do a quick Brazilian. I got home and there were dishes stacked in the sink, the garbage bins needed to be pulled from the street and I hauled in the iMac from whence I type, with a newly restored power module. At this point, I'm halucinating. I think the cat has an attitude (he does) and that there are children in the back yard (there aren't.) I just finished my list of things I want to keep that I have to take into therpay tomorrow, or rather collective bargining. My list has 5 items, most of which came from my mom and live in the kitchen. Things are things and therefore replaceable. I don't think I'm going to run tomorrow. I'm exhausted. But I'm here typing and waiting to hear a certain voice.........

Cha Cha Cha Changes

"Turn and face the strange..."

And so here I am. Alone.

There may have been an absence of information about Russ lately. Or perhaps ever in the history of this blog. Perhaps that was on purpose, I don't really know. But it was. And there has been an absece of blog all together for quite a few weeks. And I can now report to you that there was a pattern.

After Duncan died, there was no longer any reason for the McGarrys to maintain the niceties that had filled up our daily existance. I came to the conclusion after weeks of soul searching that I was no longer in love with Russ. That we had in fact fallen into some fairly toxic patterns and that we needed help. We went to therapy.

Jose Cohen turned out to be a dream of a therapist. We are both still seeing him weekly. And with his guidence, we decided to separate. Russ moved out. He now lives in Silver Lake near all his friends. He seems very happy and I am happy for him. He even has a date Saturday!

I am quietly trying to fluff up the house to my liking while spending some quality time with my new friend, whom you will meet in a future episode. I am both terrified and elated. What a wild ride.

Duncan is gone

Brave Sir Duncan, Knight of Three Legs, slipped peacefully away today around noon. We couldn't have asked for a better passing.

Dr Liz was running a bit late, which timed out OK since Richard, the mortuary guy, was running early. They know each other and were able to chat via cell phone to let the other know the appropriate timing. Dr Liz was so understanding and loving. She agreed that it was time. She said Duncan looked tired. He did. He'd lost about 4 pounds and his fur was dull as were his eyes. Although today he was looking directly at us, I think to say goodbye.

He sat in my lap on the wicker chair on the back porch. He was ready I think. He slowly went under the anethstesia, but quickly responded to the barbituate. It was less than a minute after she administered the barbituate. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. I felt a rush of energy, something like when you drink a caffinated beverage. And then right after that I felt a profound happiness. It made me smile. It was then that Dr Liz said that his heart had stopped. After she left, I mentioned it to Russ and he felt the exact same thing at the same time. It really felt as if Duncan's spirit was released from a cage, expanding and rejoicing. We know without a doubt that it was the right thing and that Duncan is happy.

Richard came when we were ready and put Duncan in a box. At that point we had sort of detached ourselves a bit from his body and it wasn't as hard as I expected to let him go. We let Paxton in to understand. He came in, sniffed, walked away then stopped in his tracks and turned around and came back with a suspicious look on his face. He sniffed closer, then turned away slowly. He's been sitting in Duncan's favorite spots ever since.

We have spent the rest of the day crying a cleaning the house. I wanted to remove all traces of sick Duncan, the blood, the barf, the baby food stains. We replaced all that with pictures of happy Duncan. That's how we want to remember him.

I miss him so much already.

I bet he's happy to have his leg back.

Hanging with the Dude

We're sitting in the big round chair right now. Duncan's tail is wagging, as it has been constantly for the past 10 days. He seems really uncomfortable and has a sad look in his eyes. He sat for a while in his sunbeam, which he loves so much. But generally, he won't stay in one place long. he's restless. His mouth is covered in evaporated milk, sweet potatoes and catsip. I put the evaporated milk in my coffee as a way of sharing something.

Russ decided to dress up and shower for the occasion, in respect to our dear friend. I will follow suit. I think maybe a gray and white outfit in honor of my beloved knight.

I took Duncan around the yard to look at stuff, grass, plants, roses, mint. Paxton killed all the catnip, but he wouldn't have liked it today anyway. He has such a strange look in his eyes. Not vacant like it was a few days ago. It seems a little delusional, as if he's trying to remember who I am. I think he's just a little nutty from not eating or maybe the cancer. He tried to eat litter a couple of times. But I stare into those little green eyes and know how much I will miss them. I love those eyes.

2:13 am

I'm awake. Duncan's awake. It's our last night together. He's been out of it for most of the evening, but sudden;y seemed awake. He didn't want to eat, but now I can't get back to sleep so here I am.

The outpouring of love has been wondeful. I think we've aligned ourselves with a good group of pet friendly friends.

I was just thinking of Duncan's little ears. His left ear, especially after the amputation has been so dirty. I suppose he can't clean it as well, although he has never cleaned his own ears. Apparently, it's a trait of dominant cats. They expect other cats to clean it for them.

Ah. Sir Duncan was thirsty. His official title is Brave Sir Duncan of Donuts, Knight of Three Legs. But around here, we just call him The Dude. And no matter what, The Dude abides.

Duncan update

He's so distant. He stares into space, sometimes looking through me. Sometimes he looks at me, into my soul it feels like. There was a point last night in which he stared so deeply into my eyes, I felt a connection that I rarely feel even in humans. It was very intense and brough tears to my eyes. He was reaching out to me I think to make me feel better. That seems to be his only concern lately is to make us feel better. He's given up on himself.

He drinks water like crazy and sometimes eats a little baby food. But he's gone. The cat I know is gone. So why is it so hard to make that final decision? I strongly believe that life should be fun and spontaneous. Having a pet euthanized is neither. And I always believed death should be spontaneous as well.

I bought a stone heart on Sunday at the garden center. It says "giggle" on it. When I picked it up today, it broke. I am consistantly disappointed in how much my life is filled with such literal metaphors. Maybe disappointment is a strong word. Amused perhaps.

And still, life goes on.

Duncan and End of Days

Duncan is really, really sick. He barely eats, and only baby food at that. He has that distant look in his eyes most of the time. Here he is with Paxton who has taken to protecting him even though Duncan has kicked his ass for 15 years.

This is my post to the Yahoo feline cancer group:

Sir Duncan of Donuts is having a slightly better day. We discovered
the miracle of baby food. Turns out he doesn't want to chew. He may
have fallen on his jaw perhaps or his teeth hurt. the vet didn't see
anythign wrong on tuesday, but it wasn't his normal vet. Regardless,
baby food is the only thing I can get him to eat. Ham, turkey and
sweet potatoes. He always liked orange food, except oranges. He's
been very alert today which is really nice. But he still depends on
Taxi Mom and Taxi dad to cart him around. He has so much trouble
walking. I know there isn't much time left, so I cherish this happy
day so much.

Vast Ocean

Yesterday morning, Russ and I woke up early and drove to Santa Monica for our very first ocean swim. We were so excited and I was actually VERY nervous about the water being cold. That to me would be pain and you fear pain. It's the same as going to get a root canal. You are not afraid that something is going to happen during the procedure, just that you know you are subjecting yourself to pain and a generally unpleasant experience.

To my surprise, the water was a balmy 67. In the wetsuit, it was quite nice. My beginning group of 3 with our leader Conrad marched into the water to practice getting in and out. We learned to duck dive under waves, which I thought were scary and big. Conrad agreed that the conditions were not favorable to a beginner. I actually had a great time going under the waves and was doing very well. And then I panicked. We were to swim past the waves to the calm. And I went in to try to swim and the ocean, the big waves, the salt water it all literally came crashing down on me. I tried to get into my swimming rhythm, but couldn't seem to breathe. I needed to stop and try to center myself but we were right in the middle of the waves parts. There was no resting. You had to swim under the waves and I couldn't put my head under anymore. I remembered a time when I got stuck in the middle of a lake because Edward wanted me to swim back to the boat so he could windsurf alone. The boat wasn't anchored. i found myself right in the boat path, alone and helpless. And I remembered the time when I was 4 at a swimming lesson. The teacher was away at the moment so I decided to show off for my mom who was watching from the side. The pool was too deep, I couldn't swim yet and I panicked. My mom just sat and watched. She later told me she thought I'd learn faster if she didn't try to help. I was alone and helpless. Swimming back in was almost impossible. If it weren't for that annoying little girl cheering me on, I don't think I would have made it. And actually, it also made me think that I don't know if I could cheer on the annoying little girl, as a side note. She was just too annoying.

I don't know if I can do the swim.......

Rhiannon rings like a bell in the night...

Rhiannon, besides being a song about a Welsh witch, is a dear Welsh friend. Well, she's a friend who happens to be Welsh I suppose it more accurate. And she's married to another dear friend Michael. Here we are eating at French 75. It was a wonderful dinner to celebrate their birthdays and the impending birthday of their daughter. Russ said when the chocolate souffle came out, I made an O face. I think he was jealous of the dessert.

Luck of the Irish

The Irish have never been really lucky in any way. Generally, that island has been invaded and subjugated over the past 2000 years. I think the phrase is meant ot be ironic. But then there is Guinness. I have always had good luck when it comes to Guinness. Friday night was indeed a lovely time surrounded by friends and Guinness. In fact, besides our dear Disney friends, we stumbled upon Pete, an old stand-up friend from Chicago. And by stand-up friend, I mean we all did stand-up. Pete is one of the most sweet, talented people I know. He wrote, directed and starred in a movie, which actually was really funny. The triple threat is usually a buzz kill, but this one truly did not suck. But Pete is jobless, taking writing gigs from time to time and playing father to his young son Joseph. Sometimes I miss being on that end of the business. But rarely. Surrounded by friends and Guinness, I feel really lucky.

Angie Lafontaine

Friday, I drove down to E! in the Mid-Wilshire district or Miracle Mile or whatever it's called and shot a few more installments of The 7 deadly Sins of Hollywood. I think they changed the title to somethign less logical like The 7 Hollywood Sins Deadly. Russ oh so kindly brought me in to play one of the talking head characters. It's really fun. Angie is an OC tabloid subscriber. She KNOWS celebrities like she knows sculptured nails. Note the fake eyelashes. I kept the make-up on all day, just for fun. I got so many compliments, I'm considering making this my new look.

On the way back to Disney, I stopped for petrol. Geez. I'm going broke driving in LA. Note the bilboard of a little girl crying. It's some photo exhibit about End Times, which is weird, but I find it ultimately ironic that it is posted by a gas station. The tank cost over $46. I don't even drive an SUV. And instead of shutting off as pumps normally do, this one lept out of the tank and squirted all over the ground. I probably lost a good $5 right there on the pavement.

Whatever happened to Full Serve???

Waxy

Oh, the pain!

I had my very first bikini waxing yesterday. All my friends rave about it, so it seemed like the thing to do. My first question is, what man invented this? Oh, my dear jesus, the pain was unreal. And, hey! It lasts for HOURS. I'm still a little stingy today.

When I made the appointment, I was very clear that this was my first waxing and I was afraid of it. The suggestion was for me to take an advil before hand. I did, but what effect that had I have no idea. I showed up on time and waited. Then my waxer, Noelle, greeted me. She's a cute little goth girl from Indiana. All of 25 maybe. I kept convincing myself that she would be very good, even if she wan't remotely Russian. I told her this was my first time. She remarked that everything would be just fine. I'm blonde after all - tiny little hairs that come out easily. She started explaining everything she was doing. I tried to take the curious, scientific approach thinking that would distract me. No go. It really hurt. Noelle kept the chatter going, trying to keep me focused. At this point, I was assuming there would be about 5 strips to rip off. There were lots! I had no idea they do little sections. Oh, the pain, the pain. Not quite as bad as getting a piercing. Possibly close to getting a tatoo. Which by the way, this has sealed it for me that I'm not going to sport the ink.

After leaving, I went to the coffee house next door to recover over a sandwich and a latte. The shock was wearing off and I was feeling pretty good. Somewhere in the mid-afternoon however, I started really feeling nauseas. I think I was running a fever. This can't be good for you. I finally had the courage to peek and see Noelle's handywork. She missed a few spots. I shuddered to think that there could have been more. So did she stop because I looked as if I was going to pass out? Or is it that spots get missed? Or is she just not that great a waxer?

After all that, I know deep in my heart that I will be back in that table in six weeks.

Night Running

I went fo ran evenin run. Had to as it was 100 degrees in various parts of the valley today. I love running at the end if the day. You get to see so much. I met about 5 dogs, three were just puppies. One cat. Quite a few families on a post meal walk. I smelled BBQ, hamburgers, and I think chef Boy-r-dee ravioli. usually it's tater-tots, but that was missing. Maybe Tater-tots are not a Sunday night offering. There is something so binding about meeting people in your neighborhood in a Sunday.

Jason's birthday

This is Jason. He had a birthday party last night.

I found myself on the roof of the Standard Hotel on the Sunset strip speaking in Hollywoodese. It's a dialect that one picks up when around these types. Funny thing is these types are my friends. I gave Jason some Hands Off! Anti-masturbation creme and a book of 1950's pin-ups. Seemed appropriate. I usually give him some sort of underwear, but I couldn't find anything this year that I haven't already given him. Besides, it's really hard to beat that one time in 1999....

Our friend Michael had a party at his house. There was already a running joke centered around the fact that I prefer thong underwear. I had jokingly promised I would donate a pair to Jason. Russ and I devised a plan. So, being his birthday and all, I gave him a little black pair in the kitchen, right in front of everyone. Everyone laughed and Russ stormed off in a pretend huff, but we played it up to Jason, telling him that Russ was so mad he had locked himself in the bathroom. So Jason went to find Russ and "talk him down" when Russ appeared, handing his own boxer-briefs to Jason, not to be outdone. And that was the night the McGarrys gave Jason their undergarments.

Father and Son Pizza

Back in Chicago, I lived right behind Father and Son Pizza on Milwaukee Ave, just past Fullerton. Even though it was a few steps away, I always had baked ziti delivered in the winter. One summer day, I was there noshing and sipping stale iced tea (it was never good there) and I realized that right behind me was legendary film critic Roger Ebert. He was waxing poetic about Sean Penn being the greatest American actor of our time. It was a valid argument in 1989. Father and Son was a favorite of his, so I wasn't surprised by his presence but star struck nonetheless. Famous people rarely came out in Chicago.

Years later in LA, I was walking up to the Vanity Fair party after the 1999 Oscars when I spotted Gene Siskel, the other half of the famous film critic duo. I lived in the neighborhood and it was an annual trek to walk up Robertson Ave and watch stars do the red carpet thing. This year, due to a traffic snafu, the stars ALSO had to walk up Robertson Ave much to our delight. As our comic friend Pardo was on the phone to another comic, Pat, Gene passed by. Jimmy held out the phone to Gene and said, "Gene Siskel, say hello to Pat in Chicago!" And he did. Without a beat he said, "Hello, Pat, " and kept walking up Robertson. Being Chicagoans, we were awed by not only the presence but the vocal acuity of dear old Gene. And those were the last words we heard him say. He died weeks later.