A big tornado of awesome

I have some lovely, exceptional friends.

For various reasons, this blog is not where I typically honor - or even mention - my friends except possibly anecdotally and briefly. But I really am perpetually amazed by the sustaining and enduring friendships I've been able to make in this incarnation of my life, post-college, post-bad-marriage(s), post-Utah.

And this is as good a place as any to note something a bit convoluted: My friends have - most likely unbeknownst to them - helped me process my ability to be a friend, and helped heal my perspective on past experiences. There is absolutely a time - more recent than I wish - when I would never have been able to, without judgment, speculation or fear, embrace forgiving, loving relationships with past friends, if I didn't have current friends who feed my sense of self-worth.

I'm not even sure that makes sense to anybody but me.

I guess my point is: I have a loving community around me full of women who have REALLY showered me with not just kindness and acceptance, but praise, sustenance, love and genuine affection. And the insecure or wounded parts of me which didn't think I deserved any of those gifts have finally, I think, been mollified into quiescence.

Last night, in a WHOLLY unexpected move, several of my friends (and with Jamie's help and blessing) surprised me with a half-birthday-and-congratulations-for-surviving-3/4-of-the-suckiest-year-ever party!

I can't even express how amazed and moved I was. Am.

So thank you, Angie, Jen, Joi, Karen, Ruth and Sarah. And Jamie. And the many other friends and family - online, long-distance, or otherwise - who have been supportive, kind, and just generally THERE recently.

Because you have really made me happy.

And loving.

(And even a bit tearful.)

 From a very grateful place today,

 -R Waffle

All the wonderful you never needed

This year my birthday was pretty cool. And weird. It fell a couple of weeks before Jamie's surgery, so it was full of anxiety. A few of my favorite family in-laws came down from Washington state for a visit, which made it special. And they, along with Jamie, gave me this:

Do you have one? I've NEVER had one. Until March 16th, if I wanted to listen to something specific, I packed a brim-full CD case around with me to play in my laptop or car stereo. A veritable homage to 1996. But now...NEVERMORE! And it is AWESOME!! And scary. You know the hidden thing that comes with an iPod? Need. Because suddenly I NEED albums by my favorite singers. And books. I NEED audiobooks I was always content to read in original format. And MOOOOVIES! TV Shows I've wanted to see but never had time for. As a mom, it's like getting a time machine - I can LISTEN to books at lunch while I walk. Or sit at my desk and watch the pilot for Chuck. I've seen more TV and watched more movies in the past month than in the past 5 years, I think.

It's like the most amazing marketing tool EVER!

EVIL! GENIUS!

(and wonderful...I'll never go back, but OY! Who knew??)

Facebook

This year has easily provided the most self-loathing opportunities of my life. Every failed relationship, every person who saw me at my worst, every person who knows things about me I wish weren't true, THOSE PEOPLE are now back in my life. Or at least enough of them that some days I think I've been nothing but a terrible person, the regret I feel just seeing their names.

• The friend from High School I one day couldn't face dealing with anymore because her food issues made me upset - so I stopped talking to her with no explanation?
• The boy I dated in HS who turned out to be gay AND who stabbed me in the back during a senior year, debate-tournament scholarship competition? (we're not "refriended", but he's friend to many of mine)
• The friends I never called back? The ones I was disloyal to or too busy for?
• The roommate I bickered endlessly with?
• The boy I had a painful crush on?

All there. Every mistake made, careless word said. All. right. there.

Okay. Here's the other side of that. The "half full" part: I've reconnected with a LOT of people whom I have, at one point or another, shared really meaningful, positive experiences, friendship and love with. It's MY issue that the worst parts of those relationships are the ones I focus on, the things I didn't correct and now, 10 or 20 years later, I'm trying to sort-out (in my head or literally) and puzzle back into my self-image of happy-go-lucky kind person. Also? I think I have self-esteem issues.

Moving away from home (my theme, apparently, for this week), I've lost touch with more friends than I wish. Perhaps. And Facebook is like voluntarily returning to a giant reunion which is sometimes amazing, and sometimes absolutely bitter. I think I'm bad at Facebooking. I've used FB to apologize to a couple of people, only to never hear from them again...maybe because I reminded them that my "friendship" isn't what they want. Is this typical, my complex love for and loathing of Facebook? Am I just overly neurotic and self-loathing?

My favorite place...

When I moved to Portland, I bounced around for a while trying to figure this city out. It wasn't like Salt Lake or New York, but sort-of a weird combination:

• Like New York, one of the first days I was here, I watched a group of junkies (or a diabetics club) shooting up out in the open.
• People didn't seem to like to walk here.
• It was DIRTY.

• Like SLC, the mix of uptight people and punks made me feel at home.
• There were a lot of independent bookstores and coffee.
• The scenery was amazing.

Unlike NY, I could afford my apartment. Unlike NY, nobody seemed to be SO intent on being cool, going to the right school or buying the right shoes. Unlike SLC, nobody said anything that invoked God, scriptures or the lord to me without raising an eyebrow to invite me in on the joke. (For a week at least - my first job here was bizarrely populated with Mormons). Unlike SLC, I never just randomly ran into people I knew - EVER. (This is still true). Moving to a new city, even one in the same country, even one sort-of the same size as the one you grew up in, is disorienting. Everything you know isn't the same. All your comfortable places, the sights and behaviors you are used to - all gone. It's exciting, but also...hard to find ways to comfort yourself. Then I found this place:

The Tao of Tea is this amazing, cozy (possibly pretentious) teahouse. Jamie & I had many dates there pre-babies. (And pre-Jamie, I had a preposterous number of first dates there).

They also have the fancy-schmancy-disney version at the local Classical Chinese Gardens, but the main house, the shabby one with too few tables, is my secret Portland-home-away-from-home.

Spin Cycle: "Adventures" in Technical Writing

For this week's spin, I thought I'd try to liven up the world with an adventure-filled account of what it is I do. Because? Technical Writing is like...whatever Chandler's job was. Technical Writing, What is it? 101: If you ever bought, say, one of these:

Chances are you received one of these: Which looked something like this:

Written somewhere, like say, here:

(gauzy finish courtesy of scratched camera phone lens)

By someone like THIS:

Who tried to make it interesting, accurate, grammatically correct, and laid out beautifully.

What this means is that I know a little bit about how to do a lot of one-time, ultimately obscure things. Like setting up your yacht navigation software. Or how to flash printer firmware. Or how to use your home gym equipment. Or set up retail software to track sales of athletic gear.

Naturally. I know all that. It's a GREAT hit at parties...

Maybe. I also have selective-job-amnesia, so I forget what I've written pretty much as soon as it goes to press.

I sound more and more like Indiana Jones/Tarzan all the time. Right?

Here's a question: How often do you use Owner's Manuals? Every day? Seriously. Have you ever read one? Ever?

That's what I thought...

Interview, Part II

Remember this post? From 2 days ago? Babawawa time! A few people agreed to be my interviewee-guinea-pig types - Hooray...suckahs!

• Arwen, of The Difference Between Shooting Stars & Satellites, All Your Yarn Are Belong to Us, and Basically, we effing Rock! (because she's prolific like that). Arwen is hilarious, and touching and spunky and all of her blogs are delicious. Check her out!
• Captain Dumbass. Does anybody not read his blog? He's like...the blogger demigah. Half the blogs I read are part dumbass. In the good way...
• The River Grey. I'm too close to this knitter/chef/snarkass to quantify her. She's the snide in the snide patch who would give you her last...barbaloot. Cooler than crafty-punk, sweeter than mojitos. Smarter than most.
• Mamazen. Another blog lovah. Plus back-cracker, fighter, artist mama and source of cheer.
• Jenn at Wordy Mama. Boy, so I just started reading this blog, and it's SMART. And funny in a stealthy, ear-worm, creep-up-on-you-and-then-stay-with-you-way. Woof!

So I think the deal was that I would send each of you guys 5 unique questions, but instead I'm just going to put a bunch of questions here, from which you can choose 5. Or 15. Or 2. Please answer on your blog, link back, and comment on this post when you've done so? And please join in if you want. Because? Why not! Questions

1. Are you now or have you ever been psychic? How do you know?
2. Would you rather die heroically or cowardly?
3. How hard would it be for you to live somewhere without fresh indoor water? Electricity? Plumbing?
4. What is your primary cellphone ringtone?
5. Are you more witty or snarky?
6. Most extreme personal change or changes you've ever made?
7. Favorite city you've lived in or want to live in?
8. Has your life up til now been more blameless or messy? Moving forward from here, which one would you choose?
9. Worst kiss (or kiss-like experience)?
10. You HAVE to pick a religion to practice. Evangelical Christian, Zoroastrian, Jainist or Scientologist? (and why?)
11. The person you are romantically involved with announces they are getting a sex change. Would it change your feelings for them?
12. Meat helmet or thigh-high golden boots with large wings attached to them?
13. How many times have you been what you consider REALLY in love? Do you still love those people/that person?
14. When you die, what do you think happens? Do you hope to be disappointed or somehow wrong about that?
15. Do you know your ethnic ancestry? Is that interesting or otherwise important to you?

Interview Pass it On by The Jason Show!

(like a me-me, but different!)

Have I mentioned The Jason Show before?

I should have. I found his blog via Bossy a few months ago, right around the whole Prop 8 debacle and very soon after I found my friend Chris' Gay Mormon Teen Torment letters in my garage.

Jason is an easy-to-lurv ex-Mormon with a touching personal story that has always particularly spoken to me given our matchy-matchy upbringings in the bosom of Vatican City, Mormonville, USA. As far as I know, we never met, but we COULD have...

Today I'm participating in Mr. Show's Interview Pass Along...skip to the end if you don't want to hear about me, but DO want to be interviewed your own sassy self!

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you ask them five (different) questions.

1. How old do you wish you were and why?

Huh. Sometimes I think I'd like to be 25 again and go whisper some truths into my own ear. But I think I'm talking about time travel... What was the question? Anyway, if I WERE 25 again, I'm sure Mistakes Made would be Mistakes Remade. I'm pretty happy being 38 as is, because the sweet things in my life far outweigh the problems I could have corrected with my fabulous hindsight.

2. If you found yourself, entirely by accident, on a nudist beach, would you go native?

Sure. I would and I have, but maybe not if all the other nudists were my co-workers or my parents.

3. You're 15 (or whatever) and the world's about to end. Is dying a virgin really the thing that concerns you most?

Whaa-aaaa-at? I'm so confused. WHEN I was 15, my preoccupation with virginity wasn't all that powerful (17, yes, maybe...probably). If I was a virgin and my own 38-year-old-self simultaneously, I might wish I'd made a few more lascivious choices. But wait...the world is about to end? I'd want to hold on tightly to the people I love and comfort them. I think at any age that would have outweighed getting it on.

4. Why do you find yourself coming back for more and more of The Jason Show?

Because Jason is so endearing, of course.

5. Why did you leave Mormonism?

Because...oh, 5000 things. Because Mormons kept telling me things that didn't jive with my own experiences and observations. Because I never REALLY felt any burning bosom or still small voice, just my own brain sometimes appreciating their small truths, and more often not. Brown skin is a curse from God? Men get Priesthood, Women get Motherhood? Casseroles and jell-o taste good? Celestial Marriage? Relief Society? Popcorn popping on the Apricot Tree? The planet Kolob??!? But mainly, I probably left when and how I did because I was supposed to BELIEVE, not just coast along pretending. My father was a Bishop and my entire family was UBER Mormon. Up at 5 AM reading the D&C before breakfast every day, my whole life. Scripture games at the dinner table. Kneeling-down family prayers at least twice daily. We were supposed to REALLY FEEL it. Tesimony x 1000. So when I wasn't feeling it, I couldn't just let that be my answer. I tried. But it felt less and less true. The more I dug, the more it stank. A lot contributed to my realization that I didn't believe in Mormonism or (eventually) religion in general, but once my blinders came off, Mormonism in particular seemed like a farce. Ahem.

So...wanna be interviewed? Wanna submit interview questions for others? Comment me!

A brief history of bad hair...

In the spirit of it being Monday, and me having had a full day of GAH! (in the form of a HUGE bounced payment check from this stupid 2nd job I shouldn't have taken - seriously evil karma for them, but also seriously painful for me to wait for them to just effing PAY ME! and then the boy believing that although halloween-is-over-chocolate-is-forever-so-give-me-chocolate-CHOCOLATE-NOW-NOW-NOW), well, I'm just all...not writing a blog post or including cute clogging kittens with pitchforks today. I'm all the other way today. Instead of that post? Inspired by Steenky Bee, but omitting her deep love of all things Sarah Connor, a history of hair: HS senior photo, juxtaposed with me a year ago. Oh, so beautiful 80's...

Clearly, HAIR CONTROL has always been a problem...

Is there a dog on that child's head? Dear lord, no. It's just HAIR! And then came the bangs... And the posing...oh.

The hell?

Note the so-beautiful PAISLEY JEANS in those last 2 photos. I think I was overfond of them... Hair control. I just don't have the gift. Or the posing thing. That too.

Wardrobe-ish (and guessing game)

A few weeks ago, two of my friends, Amy and Danielle posted about all the lovely things they would like to incorporate into their wardrobe. And it made me think how I'd love to look all SAXXY and HOT for Jamie on Date Night in awesome new duds. Except my budget calls for me to buy this: (Actually not, as barrels are REALLY pricey...which I know from recent Rain Barrel purchasing pains) But their posts about shopping and looks and stuff made me think about wardrobing... I think one of the better things about being older is that I've got an ok base wardrobe. Not awesome, but I own ample clothes which fit and which I can stand being seen in. Mostly covered in that nice mom-combination of mystery stains and boogeys, but still...I don't shop like I did when I was worried about how I had like, one pair of pants that fit my can (which, come to think of it, is rather barrel-shaped)... This past year my shopping habits have been about longing for, and occasionally squandering my money on indulging in a few, quality items. And by few, I mean not enough "one" and by quality, I mean "shitass-expensive-and-causing-minor-self-loathing". Examples? This: This:

These: This sweater (for when I want to go kick around some oversized balls of yarn): And these socks, because pirate moms in cool stockings are just...you know, righteous!

Technically, I'm participating in Bossy's poverty party. I think that means posting about spending $$ on RIDICULOUSLY overpriced veritable couture is somewhat out-of-bounds. But I do own one of the fabulous items displayed above, and I spent my ENTIRE lunch budget for the month on it a few months ago. Guess which one?

Cowboy, meet Prison

(subtitle: The Name Game)

Every few months I waffle around (har har) about changing my name to Jamie's, because his surname is COOL with my first name. Seriously. You'd NEVER mess with me if I had his surname coupled with Rebekah. It's just that tough sounding.

Rebekah Cowboy

MY surname is lame with all name combinations (no offense, all Prison-named persons everywhere, but if your name is famous in your country for sounding like a Prison, it's maybe not the best of all names). Also, it sounds a bit like the noise people make when they throw up. So there's that.

Rebekah Prison

But...this is where I have to think about screwing my feminism (and general philosophies about self-worth) to the sticking point. I don't REALLY believe in changing your name...ever. I mean, I've known people with Rainbow Hippie Sunshine names who changed their names to Mary Jones-ish-ities. And many MANY more Mary Jones-es who changed their names to "Running Heart Stone Awesome Pants".

And I do get the merits in that. Sort-of. But...for me? Self-loving, confident, 38 year old me? Eh. I think my identity is melded to being Lame-o-Prison-Gal forever. It's just part of the package.

Plus there's the fact that in three marriages I've kept my name the same. (Not the best argument to have with Jamie). And that it's a bit like a vanity plate. I'd LOVE to not be Rebekah Sing-Sing*, but I am. And I'd really LOVE to be Rebekah Cowboy**, but I'm not.

We did give Zel the Cowboy last name, which I'd protested with great reasoning and logic and many thoughtful thoughts since waaaaay before any child of mine was born (essentially: boy-baby=dad-last-name; girl-baby=mom-last-name). Until she was going to be Zel Prison. Which isn't that bad, right? But my sense of aesthetic won out over my sense of justice (soooo telling), so she's Zel Cowboy forever, unless she decides differently.

And I guess that's the point, really.

* not my real last name
** not Jamie's real last name