So much going on!

The cats are getting along better, so I think that'll be ok. I'm enjoying the last part of a much-needed holiday weekend, during which I covered two shows and attended the Ringers' annual Rocky Horror party. Dressed as Penny from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, specifically in the first scene shown below:





and threw my voice out singing all the female parts of Once More with Feeling (the musical episode of Buffy). Particularly this one, which is my favorite:



Fun all around! Tonight I'm going to have dinner with Lorien and Xander (Lorien's new baby, not Xander from Buffy) and catch up on various things. I haven't seen her since my birthday, so I kinda miss her. Young Xander appeared on the scene two weeks ago, but I was out of town. As soon as I got back, I was knocked out by yet another cold and a series of other maladies, which means I've been sick off and on for a month. This is what happens when I push my body too hard, I guess. Getting old is the worst thing ever.

Yesterday, I went to Stumptown with Brian, who made the documentary about me back in 2008. He wanted to know the real reason(s) I quit roller derby. Short answer: girl world. Long answer available if there are beverages involved, caffeinated or otherwise.

As far as other stuff that's been going on, Prince was just announced for Way Out West! The lineup of this festival is so good it's almost fictional. Bumbershoot, on the other hand, has a completely terrible lineup this year. Nothing compelling that I haven't already seen. No matter, I have better plans for that weekend anyway. There's a certain birthday girl I haven't seen since 2009, and Bobby hasn't seen since 2007. Gotta remedy that situation.

Kitteh!

This past Monday afternoon, we added a new family member to our household. Her name is Miss Enid Cupcake Lilly, and she's just about as cute as can be. She has a funny way of walking that makes her look like Lady Gaga making claw hands. After two and a half days of isolation, the time came to let her out into the house. Miss Georgia is wary of her new sister, and greeted her with a hiss and a puffy tail. However, Miss Enid just chased Miss Georgia down the stairs. Though Georgia growled, there has been no physical fighting. I think after a period of adjustment, they will be romping merrily through the house together and secretly getting high on catnip when we aren't home. Please accept these photos until you get a chance to meet her in person. She's a cuddle bug and a purring machine.

The long-awaited reunion

I was planning the trip to my high school reunion before I'd even graduated. Ten years ago today, as I sharpied another black X on the calendar on the fridge, marking my impending departure from Palm Springs, I fancied myself a modern-day Janis Joplin. I idly fantasized about waltzing into my reunion as a nationally-published author with impeccable style and an attractive gentleman on my arm. As luck (and a lot of hard work) would have it, that's what I did, but without a hint of malice.

Though I didn't have the worst high school experience by any means, I spent quite a lot of time feeling like the only whatever-I-was in the room. What carried me through those days was the knowledge that some day I'd move out of that stifling valley and never come back. With all that said, I was the third person to purchase a ticket for this event, and was excited about it from the get-go. What was I excited about? Validation? Vindication? Just simply seeing the people with whom I'd spent my formative years, all crammed into a single room one more time? Really, it was the latter.

With a decade to think about it, I've come to the conclusion that I spent my teenage years surrounded by wonderful people, many of whom I greet with enthusiastic hugs and smiles whenever we see each other. We keep in contact, and though many of us have scattered throughout California and beyond, we have a unique shared history that doesn't change. Try as I might to deny it, I will always be a desert rat at heart.

Late Friday night, Bobby and I boarded a plane in Portland. We were scheduled to meet Alex in Ontario around 11:15, and the three of us would rent a car for the journey to Palm Springs. However, the plane was delayed by quite a bit, and we didn't land until midnight. I called the rental car place in a panic, and they said they'd be open for another half hour. To complicate matters, though, the carry-on I'd been forced to gate-check due to the plane's small size was not to greet me when I exited. Instead, it was sent to baggage claim. I directed Bobby and Alex to the rental car place while I waited for my bag, which contained my meticulously chosen reunion dress. It finally arrived, and I caught the next shuttle to reunite with my group. At nearly 1:00 a.m., we were finally zooming down I-10 to the desert. I was at the wheel, enjoying the high speed limit and aggressive drivers, and Alex was my co-pilot. Bobby sat in back and shot photos. The road looked like this:



But because we were so tired, it felt like this:



Within an hour, we were pulling into my parents' driveway in Palm Springs. Waiting for me and Alex were two unturkey sandwiches from Nature's Rx. We've both been ordering these delicious sandwiches since becoming vegetarians in high school, and no trip to Palm Springs is complete without them. In what has become a late arrival tradition, we grabbed some towels and set up a floor picnic in the guest room.



After being awake for 23 hours, I was awfully tired.



Though we were scheduled to meet Sarah and Jason for breakfast the next morning, none of us were up for it. Instead, we went outside to soak in the desert sun.



I tried (in vain) to combat the Oregon glow I've developed since moving here:



And to protect my freshly-colored hair from the pair of six-year-olds who were brandishing water guns at me:



We had a nice dinner with Bobby's parents, who were also in town, and sang happy birthday to my dad a couple of days early. We got a hula hoop lesson from the nextdoor twins, who can hula hoop indefinitely while playing penny whistles. Alex and I, however, were not so good.



With dinner over, it was time to get ready. We posed for the obligatory photos:



and were on our way! We had my parents drop us off at the Riviera due to lack of parking (and for drinking purposes), and wandered inside. As much as I wanted to do right by my inner teenager, all that angst melted away when I stepped into the room. I was greeted warmly by the President and Vice President of our class, the latter of whom stretched far across the table to give me a giant hug. Later on, another classmate, who'd also been among the popular crowd, pulled me aside to tell me he was in awe of me. I'm not reporting these facts out of arrogance, but as evidence to the way things change. My freshman English teacher was in attendance, and told me she'd hung onto the zines I'd made in high school. This was becoming quite an evening.

I chatted briefly with the local people who are in town whenever I visit, and tried to have a conversation with everyone I could find. I learned of people's new engagements and interesting travels. I fielded many questions about the accuracy of Portlandia once people learned about where I live (yes, that show is accurate), and invited damn near everybody to visit me here. Unfortunately, the outdoor venue didn't help my nasty allergies, and my eyes were tearing up something fierce. A townie in the adjacent bar tried to pick me up when I went in search of napkins by asking if I was married. When I replied that I was, he said, "that's a shame, because you're really hot." The nerve of some people! Also it was dark.

Later on, the food table was invaded by gatecrashers, who President Maureen was trying to shoo away. I came to offer my assistance, and together we got them to leave. Maureen and I took a celebratory photo.



That's one of only three photos I took the entire night. Guess I was having too good a time to bother with my camera. Either that or I forgot it was in my purse. The other two are as follows:

Me and Maureen with Jon Chuan


Erin, Tera, me, Sarah, and Sharlene


Too soon, the party ended. Bartenders shoved bar carts through the remaining crowd, and people formulated afterparty plans. Some folks went to Denny's, others kept the party going at nearby Toucan's. Though I would have loved to visit the latter, my feet could take no more of those fierce shoes I was wearing. Plus, Ashleigh and James had offered us a ride, and they were ready to go. In true Palm Springs tradition, we capped off the night at Del Taco, where the five of us got food for a total of $17. Back at my parents' house, it was time for floor picnic round two:







I had a rough time sleeping due to horrendous allergies, which were making me feel like I'd snorted sand. Not wanting to waste my time, though, I was up bright and early for breakfast with Bobby, Alex, Ashleigh, James, Sarah, and Jason. We went to Cheeky's on a recommendation from Kelly, whose opinion I trust since she lives here in Breakfastlandia.



We paused for some photos before parting ways:





and returned to my parents' house for a few more hours of sun. Finally, it was time to go home to our respective cities. Alex left about an hour before us, and then it was our turn. We had two final photos and departed for Ontario.





After a brief detour to In-n-Out for a last taste of California, back to rainy Portland we went. Though the sun was nice, it's always good to be home.

I am a sneak

Around 8:00 last Saturday morning, I boarded a plane to Dallas. Once there, I transferred to a tiny Baton Rouge bound flight, ready to be collected by two cousins I'd never met. Aside from my drivers, my dad, and two other cousins, nobody new I was coming. An hour and a half after landing in Baton Rouge, we crossed into Adams County, Mississippi. Bound for the Magnolia Grill in Natchez, we crept through the parking lot undetected by the table full of my family inside. I caught my dad's eye from across the room and gave a quick wave, and tiptoed over behind my mom, who was seated with her back to me. She, along with most of the other dinner guests, had no idea I was coming. With no real game plan in place, I simply tapped her on the shoulder to announce my presence. True to form, she screamed bloody murder. I tried to calm her down, lest she get us kicked out of the restaurant before I'd had a chance to order dinner, but she carried on for quite a while.





I settled in for dinner, dessert, and visiting at a table surrounded by my mom, dad, cousin Barbara, cousin David Smith, aunt Carol, and uncle Steve. At the end of the table were my cousins Dottie and Kenny, who met me at the airport and drove me to Natchez. We were a boisterous group. With my unsweetened iced tea and my Mississippi mud cheesecake, I settled into my three-day weekend in my mom's hometown.



After dinner, most of us wandered over to Fat Mama's Tamales for me to wait for Sarah and her husband John. I am impatient and ordered myself a margarita, forgetting how strong they make them in Mississippi.



Sarah and John turned up a while later:



The older generation left, and us three kids sat on the back porch of Fat Mama's until they closed. We were joined by my cousin Laurie, who I hadn't seen in more than a decade. Once Fat Mama's kicked us out, we headed over to Bowie's Tavern to continue the evening. A few of Sarah and John's friends trickled in, and we chatted for quite a while about music. I talked endlessly about Melophobe, as I tend to do, and finally decided it was time to head back to my room at the Elms Bed and Breakfast. As Sarah and John dropped me off, a real live armadillo ran in front of the car! It was the first one I'd ever seen that wasn't dead on the side of the road. I got ready for bed in my lovely room with white, monogrammed linens, and noticed one small brown face towel. Only in Mississippi would a designated makeup towel be necessary:



The next morning, I woke up early for the breakfast that was included with my room at the Elms. Cooked by the owner, it involved fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes, and the best hotcakes I'd ever eaten. Once it was over, my parents and aunt and uncle came to pick me up for the family reunion. I think my dad was happy to have another Yankee in the room.



I met many cousins for the first time, including the lady to the right of me and my parents here:



My mom gave a speech and a presentation about our ancestor Zachariah Smith:



Later that day, I made a special request to visit Longwood Plantation, where a good portion of True Blood season three was filmed last year. I showed my mom how to take a photo with my phone:



and ran over to pose in front of the door:





On the way back, we stopped at the local shake shack, where everyone else had a malt and I had a lime slushie.



We headed over to the Natchez Grand Hotel, where my parents were staying, so I could have a glass of wine and wait for my cousin Sam to turn up.



He was kind enough to join us for dinner at Biscuits and Blues, and I unfortunately didn't feel too well after overdosing on biscuits. I went back to the hotel to recuperate, and had a quiet rest of the evening.

On Monday, my last day in Natchez, we had breakfast at a plantation restaurant called the Castle before heading over to see Jennifer, Scott, and their new baby (whom I declined to hold). I had some errands to run involving several pounds of fudge from Darby's, as well as obtaining a necklace for my upcoming high school reunion. Once those tasks were complete, we headed over to a local deli for lunch before it was time for Dottie and Kenny to take me back to Baton Rouge.

The plane from Baton Rouge to Dallas was late, giving me less than 20 minutes to race across three terminals to catch my plane to Portland. I was one of the last people on the plane, but I made it home that night. It was a lovely visit to the south indeed.



Back in Portland, I learned that many of the places I visited are in danger of flooding. The Mississippi river is more than 10 feet above flood stage, and threatens several of my cousins' houses as well as the aforementioned Magnolia Grill. I worry about the town I recently re-embraced, which showed me nothing but tremendous hospitality in my last two visits, but I know it is populated by strong and resilient people, most of whom are related to me.

For Leaky

One day, in 1995 or 96, a tiny kitten was born in Los Angeles. A classy lady through and through, she was always dressed in her formal wear. This tiny kitty soon caught pneumonia, which stunted her growth and left her with a life-long case of asthma. She didn't let that slow her down, though, and grew into a petite adult kitty. Named Alicia and quickly nicknamed Leaky due to her tendency to drool when petted, she changed hands several times before landing in rural Humboldt County, California, some years later. On Memorial Day weekend 2004, I had a chance encounter with this tiny tuxedo-colored cat. We became best friends instantly, and she came home with me that Monday afternoon. Seven years ago, I promised that little cat that I would provide her forever home. I held true to my word.



Through seven houses, multiple roommates, and a twelve-hour drive from Santa Cruz to Portland, Leaky was my constant companion and loyal friend. When Bobby started coming around, she would run to greet him at the door. She favored him, and would jump in his lap whenever it was available. We had many adventures together, and moved into a big house with plenty of windows to sit in. She grudgingly accepted a sister named Georgia, and tolerated her presence with the occasional hiss. Leaky had many friends, and charmed everyone she met. She was a tiny but tough little kitty, who once won a fight with a chocolate lab several times her size. If nobody wanted to pet her, she would rub on people's feet.



In recent months, Leaky's health began to deteriorate. She had difficulty drinking water, and lost half of her body weight. She was irritable, had trouble with her balance, and spent most days parked in front of anything that radiated heat. She loved the heating vents, the bottom of the refrigerator, the fireplace, and the top of the cable box. She stopped cleaning herself, and her fur became matted. We decided to give her a bath to help out.





It didn't help much, though it gave her more pettable surface area than she had before. Still, she showed little chance of improvement, and we were forced to make a difficult decision. With a quaking voice, I called the Rose City Veterinary Hospital to make an appointment. In our remaining days with her, we tried to make her as happy and comfortable as possible. We let her eat half a can of tuna, and we took her out in the yard on a sunny day for some fresh air and a photo shoot.





The day came yesterday. Though it broke both our hearts, we loaded the kitty in the car one last time. We petted her sweet little head, told her what a good and loved kitty she had been, and held her little paws the whole way through. She was my first kitty and my unconditional friend. She added great joy to my life, and I hope I added the same to hers. We will continue to miss her, but are comforted by the many memories we shared with her, and by the tremendous support of family and dear friends during this difficult time.