Blah blah, earthquake. Yadda yadda. I think it’s only a big deal if you don’t live here. Of course, if your house gets knocked down then it’s a really big deal, so fellow Californians don’t go scalping me over that first statement there.

My house rolled a bit. Our light fixtures swung pretty hard. Nothing broken, cracked, etc. Except maybe for Zander’s nerves. Poor neurotic doggy. He’s barking at the wind blowing through the trees, butterflies, and every little noise now. Earthquakes do seriously messed up things to animals.

In a moment of empathy I suggested we give the dog a beer.

This launched my husband into a ridiculous (and thankfully, not serious) tirade on my advice to people on coping methods. According to my husband, my motto is “there is nothing a beer/drink cannot solve.”

If you were really inside my existence you might understand why I sort of tip (not LEAN) in that direction. My husband is just good at exaggerating everything for what he thinks is comedic gold.

“Break your leg - have a beer.”

“Sprain your ankle? Have a beer.” (Ok, so that one is a little true.)

“Tired? Grumpy? PMS’ing? Have a beer!”

I picked up my stapler and caressed it lovingly… he decided to shut up.

Ethan asked how much beer he should give Zander.

“The can.” I replied.

What?!?!? It was cheap, canned beer. I certainly won’t be drinking it!

“Amy! Giving that dog a can is like me drinking a pony keg.” Mike said.

I think I suggested he might need to take a fork and jam it into his forehead. I mean, seriously, a pony keg? Give me a break. Maybe a 12 pack… tops. Not a pony keg. Good God. He proceeded to explain that this sort of thing was done by weight and that if you held the can up to Zander that might be like holding a pony keg up to him.

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Oooo, I just quiver when he gets all scientific like that.

I rolled my eyes and explained to him that if he didn’t just shut the hell up there was nothing more I would enjoy than seeing his nuts on the end of a fork. He mentioned something about my being violent and I pointed at the calender and asked him how much he appreciated walking without a limp.

Kari asked me how well he handles his booze.

I said, “Better than most of the people I know. He’s only bad if he’s on vodka. Then he just makes an ass out of himself. And, again, I’m referring to the dog, not Mike.

It’s true, ONE time on the 4th of July I might have gotten the poor dog a little rip roaring, stinking, stumbling blind drunk tipsy. He became obsessed with walking on the cement border along the flower beds only he kept falling into the flower beds… and snoring. Ok, so ONE time, ONE time I made the dog a mudslide in his own glass. I even made myself one and sat on the porch drinking it with him. Give me a break, we (the dog and I) were drinking socially. I think Mike was more upset that Zander embarrassed him by tripping over the feet of a few people who were hanging out with us and insisted on walking sideways. Truth be told Mike was mortified over the fact that his dog was drinking “la la” drinks.

Truthfully, we should all just forget about that. The fact was, Zander was totally off-kilter because of the damn earthquake and it is OUR duty as his owners to provide him comfort in his time of need. In the end, the dog got his beer and at last check, was sleeping soundly… only he didn’t make it to his bed in the garage, he just passed out fell asleep in the middle of the garage. See the hell I have to go through to help an innocent animal?

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I mentioned that my uncle writes. He writes wonderful children’s stories, sometimes he writes stories about his experiences in Vietnam. This is one of the latter:

One Day At A Time
A Nam Story

by
Gene Bishop

Okinawa, in Transit
Day 3, 1966: 1800 hrs.:

Muster being complete all Marines, in transit, promptly reported to the EM Club. Stevens, Sanders, and Atkins found a table and ordered drinks , none of which were Coke-a -cola, Dr Pepper, or Root Beer. Someone placed a quarter in the jukebox and played Mr. Lonely for the eighty-seventh time. The record being played continually by every group of Marines passing through Okinawa had become so worn that the words were indistinct. Sanders’ Singapore Sling arrived ; he placed a quarter on the tray and ordered another drink. Pictures of home were passed around, exploits with girls and cars were boisterously shared. Talk of high school football, hunting, and summer vacations exalted in lofty energetic voices. Escapades of their last stateside liberty was remembered with great exuberance. Oaths were sworn and promises made, drinks were delivered and another order placed.

Atkins was solemn deep in thought, unaware of the activity surrounding him. After some cajoling by his two friends, Atkins ultimately gave up his secret, “I don’t want to be captured, I could not live through something like that.” The other two Marines, in their drunken-state found the solution. They would swear an oath. They agreed not to be taken prisoner, that they would fight to the death if possible. This seemed to comfort Atkins’ whiskey soaked mind. Each realized they would be separated in DaNang and that their oath would be carried out individually. For the hundred and first time someone played Mr. Lonely, drinks were delivered, and another order placed.

——————————————-


Charles Stevens and Gene Bishop (left pic), Charles R Stevens (right pic), Vietnam 1966

The three marines from the story each made it home, injured, but alive. Atkins was the first to be sent home. He had been shot in the leg. We know he had several surgeries but are not sure of the full extent of his injuries. Gene Bishop was shot and sent home. He lost the use of his arm, permanently. We know that Charles R Stevens made it home alive, but that is all we know at this time.

——————————————-
Still searching for Vietnam Veteran
Charles R Stevens- Indianapolis, Indiana (from there)
Marine Corp. 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines, Echo Company,
Da Nang, August 1966-1967

If you have any information email me (amy AT amysmusings DOT com) or Malinda ( mkgssong AT yahoo DOT com) or would like to post this info on your blog - it would be greatly appreciated.

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and you KNOW this, MAAAAAAAAN.

*sigh* I love Friday. The movie and the day… but today I am totally looking forward to NEXT Friday. The 4th of July Blitz. WOOT. Where my friend, ED (a girl, no I am not kidding) and I will probably drink too much and dance too loudly and drunkenly in my garage (wide open in front of the entire neighborhood) to 80’s music while we attempt to convince ourselves we are in junior high again.

My kid will roll their eyes, Mike will undoubtedly imbibe one too many keg beers and scorch his scalp under the firework sparks (AGAIN) and we will all eat too much, drink too much and be so damn merry that it will be the best 4th of July since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.

Wait. Wait… wrong holiday.

Perhaps you get my point anyway, right?

*sigh* I freakin’ love summer.

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My always and forever blog hero is Zube Girl. I love this woman, she’s amazing and brilliant. But, then she went and got knocked up, had a beautiful baby and totally started being more of a mom than a blogger. Can you believe that? Pfft. (totally kidding here!) I have forgiven her because she gave birth to the most beautiful little girl on the planet. Well, aside from my girls, of course, but I’m a mom and it’s in my contract to say that. Besides I totally know Kari will agree with me on this anyway and all of her kids are totally freakin’ cute too.

Anyway, so Zube went and wrote this post about her favorite songs. Her songs are matched to very poignant and sometimes painful times in her life and she mentioned she liked to hear what music speaks to other people. As you probably know, music is one of my greatest escapes, in fact, I’m blaring Queen in my ears right now as I write this.

As part of my “100 Things” series, I decided to list my top 10 favorite songs. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion I have probably done this before… but maybe not. And, if so - pfft, whatever.

This is actually pretty tough for me because I love a lot of different types of music. My heart belongs to Old Standards and Big Band, seriously. Sinatra, Dorsey, The Andrews Sisters, Bing… I could go on and on. I love every song Harry Connick Jr. has written, performed, and recorded whether it’s instrumental or includes his absolutely magical vocals. So to narrow it down to ten songs, that’s just really tough. In fact, to actually list a song as one of my favorites it has to be a song that I can listen to over and over, tug at my heart, bring back memories, or just make me really, really FEEL and be IN the moment, know what I mean?

So in no particular order (because that would make my head explode) here are my top 10 favorite songs:

1. I Was Born To Love You - Queen, I have always loved Queen. Ethan went through a Queen phase where all he listened to was Queen and he even learned to play, Love of My Life, on the piano. I can’t hear Queen without thinking of Ethan.

2. The Way You Look Tonight - Steve Tyrell, Frank Sinatra (who could pick a version!), this is the song that Mike and I had our first dance to. The entire wedding soundtrack was mainly set to the Father of the Bride soundtrack. I can’t hear this song without getting all warm, fuzzy, and squishy inside.

3. Simple Things - Amy Grant, this song has become my personal mantra, if that makes sense. Which is why the lyrics are listed on my MySpace.

I dream of simple things
I can believe in
Like the feeling this day brings
True love and the miracle of forgiving
I believe in simple things

4. Fly Me To The Moon - Frank Sinatra, Ol’ Blue Eyes never fails to get to me.

5. My Blue Heaven - Harry Connick Jr., I love Harry, but this song, his version, is just so up and happy. I never fail to grin when he sings, “Just Jillie and me and baby makes three, we’re happy in my blue heaven.”

6. Don’t Stop Me Now - Queen, my official Friday night song. I love this song, it puts me in a good place mentally every time I hear it.

7. Come Fly With Me - Frank Sinatra, the most romantic invitation ever.

8. On The Street Where You Live - Harry Connick Jr., this song is really special because, while I have always loved My Fair Lady, I love Harry’s version the best so I put it on my birthing CD for when I was in labor with Maggie. Later I would sing it to her in the shower, she was so tiny curled up on my chest letting the hot water hit her back, she would always fall asleep as I sang it to her.

9. Agnus Dei - Amy Grant, this one and her version of “O Come All Ye Faithful” just make me know that there is something greater and bigger than me out there. My soul moves with this music especially, as if it is truly connected to something sacred and wonderful. I grew up listening to Amy Grant, every Sunday my mom would put on a record while we got ready for church. Amy Grant was played pretty often and her music (Angels, El Shaddai, Sing Your Praise) always takes me back to a very special time before anything bad ever really happened.

10. Love Has A Hold On Me - Amy Grant, that’s it. That’s the ultimate, no matter how bad it gets, no matter what happens, it’s all the same in the end. I can’t really do this song justice without putting Amy’s lyrics here:

I have found a perfect mystery
Love has a hold on me
Long before my life had come to be
Love had a hold on me
Love has a hold on me

Where do I come from
Where does life mean
Is it not to know the one who made me

As I’m looking down the road ahead
Love has a hold on me
Someday when I breathe my dying breath
Love has a hold on me
Love has a hold on me

Where will I go
When this life is through
Back into the light that made me and you

Love has a hold on me
Something opened up my eyes to see
Love has a hold on me
Love has a hold on me

I don’t have answers to all the questions
Running inside of my mind
But I cant help but believe that
Understanding comes in time

Love has a hold on me
Something opened up my eyes to see
Love has a hold on me
Love has a hold on me

If I run, if I hide, I know inside
Your love has a hold on me
Tell me yes, tell me no, my heart will follow
Your love has a hold on me

If I run, if I hide
Your love has a hold on me
Your love has a hold on me
Your love has a hold on me
Hold on me

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You know, there are always things that you wish you could say but don’t for whatever reasons. I finally decided to get a few things off my chest.

__(’Read the rest of this entry »’)

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Anniversaries come up and you immediately remember the wedding. The cake, the dress, the guests, the flashbulbs that caused the worst migraine ever encountered on a wedding night. Ten years later and somehow it doesn’t feel right to just think about the wedding. After ten years, it ought to be about a lot more than that. I mean, sure, Mike and I have been together a lot longer than that, but once you get married it’s just strange counting two anniversaries.

Ten years later, you’ve built a life and a family. Ten years later those things you might never have done the first year… you do without a second thought. It’s about the ups and downs the getting through and the times when you didn’t make it but somehow, always ended up together and it was just right.

The year we were married Mike was one of a very few guys at an oil company that didn’t get laid off. We didn’t know if we would be able to get married. We weathered the storm, Mike kept his job, we had a very romantic wedding, and a lovely honeymoon.

Fitting that all these years later we’ve seen highs and lows back to highs again and now, another low period. Life is getting in the way. So, no romantic weekend trip to Monterey, no romantic dinner out. Just a cozy, romantic evening on the deck listening to Maggie bang on the bedroom door because Ethan and Katie are “being mean” and wanting to wring both of their (Ethan and Katie) necks for not understanding that their parents would love just an hour or so of peace and quiet. Fitting that what life has become will surround and fill an evening meant to celebrate what started that life.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself, to do otherwise… would not be prudent.

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I’ve had a headache off and on for about two days now. Staring at the monitor has been murder! Therefore, you get the benefit of my not so awesome photography skills.

Last Friday Mike and I took Maggie to visit a local petting zoo. I had so much fun looking at the baby goats with Maggie that I forgot to take pictures of it. I usually can’t stand petting zoos but this one was actually super clean, really cute, and the animals all looked very happy.

On our way out we noticed that they had bantam chicks for about $2 a piece. We fell in love with them. We haven’t had a chicken around since Nero passed away.

We bought a few and headed home. Maggie adores them and calls all of them Chickie, which is fine because I guess it might be a while before we determine their genders. I believe only 2 of them are guaranteed to be female. We bought 3 different varieties. Two will keep the feathers on their legs (sort of like an old fashioned petticoat) and another one will have sort of a wild, Albert Einstein look to the feathers on the top of his head (I assume he’s a boy, he’s quite overbearing already) anyway, he’s black and yellow, should be really pretty.

We are really into natural pest control and we noticed with Nero that we really never saw any “bad” bugs in the backyard. I’m excited to get these little guys into the backyard, but right now they are just too tiny!

Zander is thrilled to have something to guard again. See how concerned he looks? He’s missed his rooster, poor thing.

For anyone who might be counting… our pet roster looks like this:

1 dog - Zander
2 cats - Molly and Liza Jane
1 Chinchilla - Sophie
Fish
Chickens

And yes, all of them are well loved.

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So, you might recall the haunted house my mom rented for a while, right? I was asked more about it and so, decided to jot down the other recollections I have of the place.

This was about 4 years ago, exactly. It’s funny how you can have something extraordinary happen to you and then just sort of forget about it and move on. I love all things supernatural and have always had a pretty strong interest in it for as long as I can remember. Then, of course, I land right in the middle of a little supernatural cocktail party and having a 4 month old doesn’t exactly make you want to hop up and put all those things you’ve learned about ghost hunting into action. *sigh* If only I could go back…

Moving on, my mom put one of her favorite chairs in the corner of the den and she would sit there in the evening studying while my stepdad and brother watched television. She said it was never unusual to see a white form gliding down the hall - which she could see through den and on the other side of the living room.

Then there was the cat. My mom was very sure it was a cat, a smaller than a dog, gray shape that would occasionally dart under furniture or appear to be chasing a toy across the room for a split second or so.

And the back gate, the gate that would not stay closed no matter how many latches or pins were put through the latches. My mom constantly found it open. On the other side of this gate/fence a previous owner had fenced off a section of the yard and there were old fruit trees on the other side, like a mini orchard or something.

JJ (cocker spaniel) the ball addict would find different tennis balls, that didn’t belong to him that would appear in the yard - usually under some redwoods (maybe the cat and dog were buried under there?) in the back yard. The strange thing about this was that my mom and I had both gone through the yards before they moved in and there were no tennis balls around. Now, sure, maybe a neighbor threw them over the fence, but they were old, old and clearly loved by some dog. From time to time the balls would disappear and reappear by the redwoods. Lots of plausible explanations here, sure, but still a little strange.

The house, overall, just had a pretty creepy feel to it. You always felt as if you were being watched.

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Update! I just realized that the comments were closed. I’m sorry! They are open now!

* This was originally posted October 2005, but since we’ve discussed some things of an esoteric nature this week, I decided to repost it. Enjoy!

Three weeks after Maggie was born in January of 2004 my mom’s house caught on fire. Their insurance company rented them a house a few blocks away to stay in while their house was repaired/remodeled. The rental house was older, but it was large with 4 bedrooms and three bathrooms, a large living room, dining room, and family room which was adjacent to the kitchen. All the bedrooms were on one end of the house with the family room and kitchen on the other end and the living room and entryway in the middle. I went through all that to set up the following story.

When they moved in the linoleum in the master bathroom needed to be repaired/replaced. My mom had the rental company send someone out to get it fixed. The gentleman arrived and went to work, my mom had to be in class (at the local university) so she left him there repairing the linoleum. When she came home the repairman was gone, the linoleum was only partially repaired and several of his tools were still sitting in the bathroom. It appeared he had left in a hurry. Mom didn’t think anything of it, she assumed he’d be back to finish.

He never came back.

The first bedroom in the hall was turned into a home office. My mom had a lot of furniture that had to be replaced so we were constantly searching on the internet to find furniture that she liked as well or better than her old furniture. I was in the office looking for leather chairs to replace her old chairs. Maggie was 3 months old and was sound asleep in her carrier nearby. My mom’s two cocker spaniels, Molly and JJ were laying the floor next to me. My mom had a morning class she was running out to and we had planned to meet up with my sister for lunch when she got back.

I heard my mom go out the garage door and saw her car drive away. It was about 15 minutes later when I heard the garage door open then close and what sounded like plastic grocery bags being brought into the kitchen and put on the counter followed by cabinet doors opening and closing. The dogs hopped up and started barking like they always do when my mom comes home and ran in to greet her. I naturally assumed that mom had gone to the store before going to class.

Then everything went silent, dead silent. No grocery bags rustling, no dogs barking. I started to call out to my mom but had the oddest sensation that I should keep quiet. Maggie was still sleeping soundly so I crept out of the office and into the living room. As I came into the living room both dogs were perched on the back of my mom’s expensive sofa (a huge no-no and something they had been trained not to do) staring in the direction of the family room and kitchen, the hair on their backs was standing straight up and JJ had his teeth bared, something he never did.

From my position on the living room I could see the dining room and most of the family room, but not the kitchen. I became concerned that someone had come into the house and so I stood there listening for any sound that might confirm my suspicions. The silence was so strange it didn’t feel like a normal quiet at all. I was just about to turn to go get the baby and leave when I heard, plain as day and crystal clear, a loudly whispered, “Hello…” nearly in my ear, it felt as if someone was at my shoulder. I nearly felt the breath on my neck.

I spun around and, of course, no one was there. The dogs still held their position

When you are not familiar with this sort of thing I can tell you that your mind immediately leaps to rationalize whatever you have seen or heard. I immediately assumed that it was my mom playing some sort of trick on me. Although, for the record, my mom has never been a practical joker of any sort… she’s never been known to prank anyone and certainly would not try to scare anyone on purpose.

I ran in got the baby and called my sister from my cell phone. She was on her way to the house, so I waited by the front door for her to come in. We went through the house and no one was there. The kitchen counters were empty and clean just as they had been when my mom left. All the cabinet doors were closed and the dogs were back to normal.

My sister is sensitive. Very sensitive. And, she refused to stay in that house AT ALL. Preferring to stay with a friend while the house was remodeled. She never really would say why she wouldn’t stay there.

The final incident was on Easter of that year. We did the whole egg hunt thing, had a great meal, the guys settled in to watch a movie, the kids were playing hide and seek all over the house. Finally it was late and my mom, Ethan, GJ, Kate, Maggie and I were all settled into the living room. Yes, the same living room that I had had my experience in just a month or so before.

The boys were discussing how they had slept out in the den (where we could clearly see Mike and my stepdad hanging out) and heard someone walking around the kitchen, opening cupboard doors and things. They assumed it was my mom and when they walked in - no one was there. We teased them a bit (not wanting them to be afraid in the house, they hadn’t heard the other stories at this point, and there are more stories) and started talking about something else. That’s when they interrupted us and told us about the front door - which we were in plain view of. They said that on the night that happened in the kitchen, they walked through the kitchen, through the dining room, into the living room and heard the front door rattling.

Everyone got a little quiet then and we looked at the front door. As if on queue the doorknob began rattling and turning. Ethan, ever the brave little man, ran up to the front door and looked out the window then pulled the door open. No one was there. And everyone at the house was in plain sight.

We noticed that the house has been rented a few times since my mom lived there, it’s even been sold a couple of times… no one stays there very long.

I might post more about this, there are a few more interesting stories my mom told me about the place.

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The mother of TWO teenagers. Happy Birthday, Katie!!!

Kate celebrated by venturing back to the time when I was thirteen. Girls arrived at our house Saturday night with all forms of crimping, plastic jewelry and side pony tails. It was AWESOME! My mom ran by to bring Kate the perfect 80’s earrings and said something about it reminding her of Amy - The Junior High Years. Pfft. WhatEVER!

They watched Weird Science, Sixteen Candles, Pretty In Pink, and Dirty Dancing. They painted their own t-shirts and baseball caps and were still up and going strong around 3am.

In short, the party was a success.

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