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By midnight, we were on the road..somewhat. Despite GPS’s help I didn’t know which road in Fresno I was on – the last time I’d been at Fresno State was for my teaching credential and that had been 7 year before.  Soon enough, we ended up on Highway 99.  I love being sober.  I LOVE getting out of the concert and not being like dude-guy I spotted, head against the railing because of too much whatever.  I LOVE not being loaded chic at the Sacramento show who “wanted to cry” because she loved my earrings so much.  I’m alert , I’m ready to drive home – even after waking at 5 in the morning, I was looking forward to the drive(I miss road-tripping).

Which I managed before the estimated arrival time of 2:37 ( it was 2:36).  Just after 3, I turned my light off…and within minutes, it seems, had to turn it back on.  I am still not enjoying coffee as I once used to , but I can tell you I slurped on that stuff like  a kid does a Slurpee on a hot summer’s day.  Maggie had slept in the car, so she was ok.  Ethan, my little angel, who had turned in around 11?  It was like waking the dead.

In a zombie-like state, I headed to work after dropping the kids off.  Honestly, I was okay at this point, yet knew I’d start to fade quickly.  Group supervision was a stretch for me, I could barely use the correct words to make up a sentence much less create a treatment goal.  I headed home to nap as I had a four-hour break before my next client.  Bed never felt so good.

Back at work, a colleague and I enjoyed talking about favorite things: sarcasm and food, and before too long, my last client showed up.

At home, Maggie agreed to cook if Ethan and I cleaned.  Deal.   There is little I enjoy more than spending time with my kids when we can simply relax and be.  Dinner provides this.  I understand life gets hectic yet sitting with each other results in laughter and ease.  Someday we might get the bus back and then I’m up for a family weekend trip somewhere.  As this early-morning reminded me, I miss our adventures together.

Pictures: LB – La Bodega is everywhere; This morning’s Wicked Tree.

I was out of it yesterday – I spent the whole day off in bed sleeping, then knocked myself out more with Theraflu.  Too much good stuff coming up to miss it with illness. Yesterday was the Boy’s first day back at school – things went well and he seemed to be in a much better mood yesterday after school.  This morning started off by me packing sweats and contact stuff in a big, so I can be “dressed for bed” on the drive home tonight.  Maggie is stoked – so am I.  Head is swimming a bit, but that’s what OTC is for.

Mags and I headed to Fresno with the afternoon rush – I wanted to catch all of Judah and the Lion.  An opening act you don’t want to miss – not bad.  Food is always an issue on road trips, but Maggie found a place called Moo-Moo’s Burger Barn.  When she was a toddler, her aunt gave her a Tshirt from Maggie Moo’s Creamery (or something like that), so we thought this was the famed place.  The damned GPS took me on 2 lane country roads in a huge “D” when we could have just taken 8 Mile Road in Stockton. – all this for $25 worth disgusting food.  As always, I was sad in my heart that potentially good food was not so.

We arrived to the sold-out show , found a parking spot and headed inside.  Our seats were good ones, Row G in the lower section, and like in Sacramento – someone decided to start a wave.  This time, I could really be part of it!  First time around, in my fervid excitement, I smacked the guy in the seat below me.  Second time around, I knocked down my drinks (which I had placed under my seat – a water and a Sprite) and knocked everything out of my purse, somehow.  I found most things, but…

..just before Twenty-One Pilots, I noticed my keys were missing.  Of course they were.  Did I think to look around the area where I had very recently spilled my items?  Naturally, no.  Instead, I panicked and thought, “Oh, shit!  Somebody took my keys!”  and headed off to go explore the arena.  No keys had been turned into guest services as of yet and I frequently looked at my Tile™ to see if my keys were in the area.  It said the distance was too far to locate my keys, but keep wandering around to see if the light turned green so it could make the audible sound (at a concert).  No keys had been turned in, so glumly I returned as Twenty-One Pilots hit the stage.  At least I had a credit card and my license with me, so we could uber to a hotel and spend the night.  When I got back to my seat, I notice the tile went green, so after the song ended, I began looking around with my phone light, convinced someone had picked up my keys and put them in their packet.  Dude ahead of me (whom I had smacked) turned around and I mentioned I had lost my keys.  In 2 seconds, he grabbed my phone, reached under his chair and handed me my keys.  I’m a freak.

The show was good.  The view was terrific and I was able to see so much I had missed Saturday night, yet within 20 minutes of the first band going on (Judah), Maggie could see that sitting did not feed the same excitement as standing in the midst of The Pit.  I am really glad we got to see the show and am secretly thrilled that I wasn’t grounded for taking my kid out of school 30 minutes early to a show three hours away on a school night.  Far too often, this adult-thing is still a trip to me.

Pics ‘n Vid – Three shpts from Twenty-One Pilots;  My favorite Judah and the Lion song – “Take It All Back”

Here’s the thing:  the show was so frickin good that this morning, when I saw Fresno’s show wasn’t sold out, I bought two more tickets.  It is so fucking good  to be re-energized with music.  

At noon, after I’d been out of bed for maybe 20 minutes, Maggie asked me if I still had my hair appointment. It was at 12:30, so my make up free day began in a bit of haste.  I used to wear no make up when I taught at the Carmichael campus.  Hmmmm.

I love seeing Nicole. It’s much more than a hair appointment, it’s also a soul appointment. And plus, those hands. Getting my hair washed by someone else is pure heaven.

Quick turn around to grab a burrito for lunch for Ethan and me, then pick Maggie up and get her to volleyball practice…where I sat in my car, ate aforementioned burrito and breathed.  Off to pick up clothespins and Valentine’s Day things for my kids.  Year 7 solo…and I’m ok with that.  After years of being so afraid to be alone, I’m content now.  I stretch out every night in my bed.  No bumps, being kicked, snoring.  It’s just me.  

After running to catch the sun before she went down for the night, I waited for volleyball to finish up, then a request for McDonald’s as we drove home.  Ugh.  But I ended up with a value meal, myself.  Fuck it.  I’m tired, hungry.  I can’t live by these “hafta” rules (although some Mexican food self-control would be good).  So today was a wash with food choices.  No matter.  I’m an exhausted happy.  

Pics ‘n lyrics: Last night’s post-show Denny’s pancakes for brekkie;  A shot from Maggie introducing me to Snapchat – I still have no idea how to use it; Catching tonight’s sun’s bedtime.

Guns for Hands by Twenty-One Pilots

I know what you think in the morning
When the sun shines on the ground
And shows what you have done
It shows where your mind has gone
And you swearing to your parents
That it will never happen again
I know, I know oh ow, what that means, I know oh oh oh ow

That you all have guns
And you never put the safety on
And you all have plans,
To take it, to take it, don’t take it, take it, take it

I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
But I can’t, but I can’t when you all have
Guns for hands yeah

I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
But I can’t, but I can’t when you all have
Guns for hands yeah

Let’s take this a second at a time
Let’s take this one song, this one rhyme
Together, let’s breathe
Together, to the beat
But there’s hope out the window
So that’s where we’ll go
Let’s go outside and all join hands
But until then you’ll never understand

That you all have guns
And you never put the safety on
And you all have plans
To take it, to take it, don’t take it, take it, take it

I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
But I can’t, but I can’t when you all have
Guns for hands yeah

We’ve turned our hands to guns, trade in our thumbs for ammunition
I must forewarn you, of my disorder, or my condition
‘Cause when the sun sets, it upsets what’s left of my invested interest
Interested in putting my fingers to my head
The solution is, I see a whole room of these mutant kids
Fused at the wrist, I simply tell them they should shoot at this
Simply suggest my chest and this confused music, it’s
Obviously best for them to turn their guns to a fist

I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
But I can’t, but I can’t when you all have
Guns for hands

I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep
But I can’t, but I can’t when you all have
Guns for hands

I remember when I was four.  I was terrified of the green trucks. Driving on F.M. 86, we would occasionally pass by them, which meant there was a good chance of people I loved being sent away…deported to Mexico, since undocumented immigrants were frequently employed at my dad’s restaurant.  Hearing about the ICE raids are bad news.  And still, I hear my dad’s voice, “you can’t do it  that way!”

I made hamburgers for breakfast.  Well, late breakfast.  Ok, brunch.  Screw it, it was lunch for the first meal.  Mags had just finished a bowl of cereal (it was noon).  Ethan wasn’t hungry (he rarely is this early – the Boy eats at 2 in the morning.

Directly after clean up, it was time to get ready for the show, since it was an hour to the Cambodian restaurant for dinner (lunch).  I took a hot Epsom bath and more ‘roids.  My scrip is 3 times a day for 5 days, but I just need them to last me through the night.  I shan’t lie – I’ve been concerned about this show since it will be standing only – a packed house.  The restaurant was not as good as the Cambodian eatery in Oakland.  That was to die  for.  A trip to Oakland is in the works – yes, just for the food.

We arrived at the venue in 20 minutes, and found a parking garage 5 minutes’ walk away.  Swarms of people were already there.  We spent the next hour and a half in line, in the brisk wind, me in short sleeves.  I do this willingly, because I know how warm it will be inside.  Waiting, waiting, waiting.  Every now and gain, screams would fill the air, but there was never an answer as to why.  The crows above us surged forward and Maggie burst into giggles, seeing a mom dragging her daughter in a run, smacking the guy in front of her, he jabbed her with his elbow, then mom boxed his ear.  Yep.  Concert Violence By Moms.  Inside, we grabbed a sprite and water each, then headed to general admission.  Maggie was astounded that we were about 8 people back from the stage.  There was an attempt at a wave in the stands; always willing I jumped up several times, admonished by my daughter, yet within 5 minutes everyone in our area was doing it.  Sometimes moms just know.  The first band from Nashville, Judah and the Lion, were incredible.  Lead singer dude reminded me Mike Patton with his persona.  A banjo, accordion, mandolin also were a part of the band.  Jon Belion was next – and my, oh me.  That bass player.  MMMMM! Twenty-One Pilots were easily one of, if not THE best show I have ever seen.  These two are SO talented and understand how to create a show that easily satisfies a wide range of people.  I saw all ages, all races there.  It blew me away.

I think the best part was finally sharing a concert with someone I love – someone who means so much to me.  Yes, a different type of love than I had envisioned, but this one means more to me because she is my daughter.  There is a connection I have with this kid that transcends any love for a man I will ever have.  She gets it about concerts, too, which made my heart glow.  We enjoyed some Denny’s afterwards, then headed home.  What a beautiful night it was.

Pictures: Mr. Tyler Joseph on keys; Josh Dunn & Tyler Joseph; Tyler again (Maggie took this incredibly perfect shot); Maggie’s heart hands.  We loved this show. Twenty-One Pilots Rocks!

I woke up with a sprained taste bud. Damn SweeTarts.  Maggie and I both noticed what a balmy temperature awaited us outside this morning. Both of us said something about being back in Mexico. Those were the days. Boy was sick, so I dropped Girl off at school and headed into work.

More paperwork; closing files, making phone calls, referrals… then off to juvenile hall!  Thursdays are my short to our days in the hall so I can get a six-hour stretch on Fridays.  

I rushed to the other office to meet with clients.  It was here that aging and a love of Mexican food showed their nasty selves:  my eyeballs felt as if they were throbbing – I’m sure because I haven’t been using my little cheaters in reading.  Then there’s the point of this damned Victoria’s Secret bra. Their new way of measurement is ridiculous, I feel as I have a girdle strapped around my ribcage. Accountability: I’ve gained 8 pounds back from excessive Mexican food eating.  I keep hoping that simple means 4 pounds a breast, yet I don’t think it’s that easy.

One of my clients is someone who recently experienced a horrific car accident which has altered their young life.  Hmm. 

Store for milk, then home. Maggie and I whipped up a delicious dinner of pesto shrimp and gnocchi.  SO GOOD!  This was my first gnocchi ever….  I settled down for a little bit of OJ before making sure the boy had done the laundry i’d asked for (he had).  If he still sick tomorrow, I’m going to ask him to clean the bathrooms (he does an amazing job).

Pics ‘n vid: Our NorCal Mexico weather – balmy and beautiful; It is, you should (Pssst! Eat burritos!); A video of Sponge Bob doing Europe’s “Final Countdown”, because lately, it just may be, so why the hell not?

The first thing I did this morning was get in touch with the high school to see what needed to be done to get the boy enrolled again. Despite today only being day seven I needed to show proof that he has been enrolled in a different school so that he does not have to make up a weeks worth of work. The issue here is, he has been attending home-school but there’s a different method to their madness and thus there is no written work to show.

I called the instructor of the home-school, who told me that since he was in the process of being enrolled there,  the best way to go about it would be to get a home school affidavit.  

I headed to work. Two hours of group consultation followed by an hour of personal consultation.  I feel consulted (consultified?). I then wrote 3 treatment plans, closed out one client, met with two clients, and wrote two sets of prof  notes. I’m done.

As I headed home, I got a call from Swerner. We talked a little bit and then she inquired about Ethan. She is going to help me figure out this situation with the IEP, home-school, & home-school affidavit.  I’ve missed my Swerner.

My babies are home: my boy is sick, my girl is sad (friend troubles).  She showed me a picture she had taken in San Francisco of a bus. Mine should be, should be ready this week as the parts(rockers) came in Tuesday.  

Picture: A bus in my city by the bay ❤  Once my girl is finished, I’ll drive her there for a day.

Walking up with tongue blisters from SweeTarts Sours is no fun.  Coffee isn’t as good – nothing is as good.  Not even more SweeTarts….  Wait a minute.  Never mind that last one. 

After having told me he really loves windstorms, Ethan noticed a back portion of the fence had been blown down.  This sucks.  We have a dog (Annie) who thinks she is Christopher Columbus (the explorer – not the decimator of a peoples),  Still, it was a good reason to call the landlord and the handyman (whom I never called about the side- deck collapsing).  I left a note in a plastic bag for the neighbors, letting them know I called the landlord.  These neighbors are the same neighbors who lost a tree a month or so ago.

I noticed that driving through puddles is the grown-up version for jumping in puddles.  Large waves of water fanning from the car like the wings of bald-eagles (note my patriotism there).

At work, I got a call from the head of the home-school.  I’ll have to talk to Swerner, but it seems that home-school won’t work for Ethan and I’m not sure what to do about other options.

Got home to my Boy who was cooking dinner.   We ate, then bonded over the next episode of OJ.  I would have never guessed twenty-three years ago as I watched this story unfold with the rest of America that I’d be watching (some of) it with my son (he isn’t that interested).  I love that kid.  Girl gets home tomorrow from her immersion trip in San Francisco – the one I chaperoned last year.  I miss her so much.

Pictures: Little tiny pond almost flooding its bank; Eagle wings

As I drove Mags to school this morning, she explained how she and a friend had created a GoFundMe for transgendered people who couldn’t afford binders.  They created a small account with a goal (this goal was apparently reached with two funders) and they purchased two binders for winners they selected.  Wow.  This is my girl…

Which reminds me of a time when I was working with a transgender individual.  It’s important to note I had just started grad school.  He came to me one day before class and shared how he had just purchased a new binder.  “Wow!!”  I replied, “í did, too!!”  It only took me a minute or two to understand we were talking about two different types:  Mine were for papers, his were not.

A rainy day, all day.  Many clients did not show, but others did. Flight and hotel reservations made in New Orleans.   A colleague kindly referred to me as “youthful”, which is a nice way of saying immature.  I like having fun at work – I cannot begin to tell of the daily horror stories we hear.  “Youthfulness” has its place.

I learned more at my own therapy session – Interesting what happens when we open our minds as well as our ears.  I can often be quite rigid in my thinking.  As I headed home, the Boy asked me to stop off for something at the store, so I purchased myself some SweeTarts Sours.  I never learn and my tongue is raw.

Together we cooked for Taco Monday, a new tradition I started today.  It won’t last very long, I think….  Then we watched episode two of the Netflix OJ series:   the slow-speed chase.  Ethan wasn’t very impressed with it…kids these days.  For a Monday, it sure  was a Friday.  I think I’ll open the window a bit so that freshly rained-air can come in.  I do love my rain.

Pictures: En guete; A perpper for my taco Monday, Superbowl is over!  BASEBALL!

One beautiful night of sleep, I didn’t want to get up this morning and to be honest I really didn’t need to. Still, I was on a kick from yesterday’s massive cleaning and I wanted to accomplish a little bit more today.

I’m bound and determined to keep ridding this house of items.  I’m stuck on European linens that my aunt may or may not have embroidered herself.  I don’t ever use them, some have a stain… do I just throw them away?

I wasn’t able to order the upholstery for the bus.  I really need to talk to the people at the shop to figure out how much burlap I’ll need for padding on the seats and JBugs was closed today.

Maggie and I had a lot of fun today; Ethan was with a friend, so she tagged along as I went to pick up contacts and my new …<gulp> progressive glasses, which is a fancy way of saying “bifocals that don’t look like bifocals.”  I can’t believe I’m at this point.  I was the exception.  We watched kickoff in Costco, got a few things, then snapchatted in the car. I look pretty damn rad with furry ears. lemme tell ya.

The human mind is  interesting: just as I started watching “American Crime Story: The People vs OJ Simpson” I thought,  “I can’t till I  fall in love again.” I’m not quite sure how I feel about the timing of this thought.

Pictures: Birds awaiting the storm; Me in ma specs.  You should see how great I look in pitch darkness. 😀