Several Stories

Fingernails. I think I'll start with fingernails. I'm sitting here wondering where to start and I've realized I mostly need to go clip my nails. In New York, I forgot to pack clippers and several times I caught a nail and tore off a bit and had no way to alleviate the situation aside from biting it off. So, a day back in Flagstaff and I see I need to repair myself. My mom was a filer. Always filing her nails. They were beautiful and simple. I'm a clipper. Polish never stays on, I'm always knocking into something and I just did not get the beautiful nails gene. I have, however, managed to get a job where I'm not ALLOWED to wear polish so I have an excuse. Plus, I like to saw stuff, and paint things, and bang about, so I'm never going to be the girl with the lovely nails.

Okay, done.

Stories. I'm moving on to stories. I have a few. The first one started a year and a half ago. This story I'm going to shorten a bit. In August of 2008, an ex-boyfriend put a gun to my head. It was scary and intentional. I went to his house to get a couple cell phones back that were delivered to his house instead of mine. I made a few mistakes (FYI......in iffy situations when you have the choice of calling the police to help or barreling through on your own, choose the police), but he obviously made bigger ones. The State of Arizona took him to court and he was convicted two weeks ago of aggravated assault. I'm not going to go into all the court stuff but it was grueling. I spent several days on the stand and listened to lies by people I didn't even know. And then the jury came through. And now he's going to prison. But that's not even the story. The story is that I stopped blogging when it happened. I didn't want to write about my life; like when I was going to go to Kansas or even what time I left for work. I had to leave out so much of "regular life stuff" because I was afraid to expose anything about where I was going or what time or with who. It was WEIRD. I felt like I had to censor my whole flipping life when I wrote. When he had me on the floor and had the gun at my jaw, he even said, "You better watch what you write, people read your blog and know where you are and when you're gone." It was an implied threat, but it made me think about the possibilities. So, I worked hard to keep my posts generic, and I wrote less. And I honestly don't know if I'll ever be as open as I was when I started blogging. I get on facebook more, although I don't write on it much. The day before the trial I wrote a little post asking for positive energy and prayers and good vibes and 20 people sent me posts back. That was the day facebook won me over. I have to say this about facebook...you get to pick your friends (the people who can view your page), everyone is so fucking nice, and no one swears (damnit). Hahaha. I also am looking forward to blogging more. I love to write the long posts, the funny stories and the six paragraph "real life stuff" that isn't so much a part of facebook. So, although I'm leaving out a lot of that story, you get my drift. It was big and scary and it has changed the way I think about some things. And now I get to move on.

Today is my birthday. Barry is making me a cake. It's a process. Last night he started (from scratch) and used the cake pans my mom used to use. They're a bit smaller, 8" instead of 9", and after twenty minutes in the oven, smoke started to waft into the kitchen. The batter was overflowing onto the bottom of the oven. They never cooked and we poured the batter down the drain (okay, it made me laugh). This morning he started again, made three layers, not filling the pans up so full, and they fell. The layers are like 8" wide thin chocolate pancakes. He was a little bummed but I think they're going to be nice and tasty. Plus, more frosting fixes anything! And Barry made me a cake! I love it when people make you a cake on your birthday.

Facebook won me over AGAIN today....so many people wished me a happy birthday. I LOVE all you hoo-ha's wishing me a happy day. I am SO lucky and blessed to have you. THANK YOU. I'm in the process of deciding on my birthday resolutions, which will be forthcoming. I am planning on the best year ever.

Here's another story, that I would have been writing so much about over the last few months but I didn't want to give away my whereabouts. I went to NEW YORK CITY! All last week I was in New York. I believe I did already mention it, but my book, Game, was a finalist in the Patterson Poetry Prize. They asked me to read in New Jersey. So my son and my niece Suzy and her two girls who are Jay's age, and my sister and I flew into JFK last Tuesday. Here's the run-down...

Day one....five hour flight.
Awesome hotel in midtown Manhattan. Ate my first $16 hamburger at Smith & Wollensky. Walked around. Went to Rockefeller Center. Watched people ice skate. I tell you, that rink is so much smaller in person. Snowing in NY.

Day two....We were on the Today Show (check it out on my facebook). Tour bus. Ground Zero. Lunch at Olivas. Excellent pizza! Mary Poppins on Broadway. Limo Ride through Central Park, by the Met, Guggenheim, Lincoln Center. Ate at Raffles. Food is expensive!! Five dollars for a kids chocolate milk!

Day three....Times Square. M&M world (damn kids). Empire State Building. The Strand Bookstore. Battery Park. Staten Island Ferry. Looked at the Statue of Liberty. Subway to Harlem! Dinner at Sylvias (Excellent dinner!!). Here's a short story about Harlem. I live in a very white bread place. My son goes to a very white bread school. We walked about 5 blocks from the subway to the restaurant. Jay was nervous. He had never been in the minority. Never.

At one point he looked at me and said "I hate this. Can we just go back to our hotel?" and I could see his discomfort and even a little fear. I said, "It's okay. No one is going to hurt us here." We got to Sylvia's and sat down and ate an incredible dinner. Jay LOVED it. He relaxed and had fun. He interacted with black people. I mentioned that I think it's good to get out of ones comfort zone sometimes. It WAS good. I talked about how we're all just the same people, going to jobs, having families, eating dinners, trying to make it and pay bills and coping the best we can. We walked back to the subway after dinner and all three of the kids looked at the lights and the architecture and the people with less fear and more wonder. I LOVE that kind of situation. I wish my life held more cultural diversity. But it was so great to stretch ourselves a little and see other lives and places and people. Even if it was a very small moment, it was still an enlightening one.

Day four......The Natural History Museum, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Wow. Over four hours in each one. More subway. Mimi's for dinner (Italian). I LOVE The Met!

Day five....UGH! My reading was cancelled. Snow in New Jersey. Big Storm in D.C. Man, was I disappointed. I was going to get to read with Li-Young Lee and Molly Peacock. I was going to get to sell my book. I was going to get to listen to poets that I've read and admired for years. I was going to thank the small presses, especially my publisher, Two Dogs Press, because without small presses, it's hard to get published. I was going to live in the winner's circle of poetry for a couple hours. I was sad, and I had to stop myself from dwelling on the thought that my one big chance to get my book out there was gone. Maybe it was gone. Maybe that would have been it. But, I had to work on letting it go. I still am. Instead, that day, we went to St Patrick's Cathedral (wow), FAO Swartz (damn kids), and the NBA store, and Macy's and Saks and The Magnolia Bakery. It was still good. It was NEW YORK CITY!!!!

Day six....flew back to L.A., got on the Amtrak to Flagstaff. In the L.A. Grand Central Station, Jay and were sitting there waiting for the train. There was a woman who was ranting a bit. Okay, she was freaking crazy. Hollering at folks, dropping her luggage, demanding someone haul her down to the train. "Well Jay, I have to say one thing, there are a lot more crazy people in L.A. than Flagstaff" I say to my son. Fast forward to getting off the train in Flagstaff. I hear a woman's familiar voice. "I am not getting off the train" Rant, rant rant. Etc. Etc. Demanding service, dropping luggage. Yes, it was her. She lives in Flagstaff.