pix can fly

I studied the lymphatic system yesterday morning before the sun shifted mountain shadows away from our bedroom window. I had curlers in my hair and a cat purring in my lap.

For the first time in my life I realized the what-why-how of a spleen. Then made some coffee and looked for my clean scrubs and that Topshop hoodie I keep forgetting to return to Claire (I've been taking really good care of it though. Washing it in cold water and laying flat to dry).

I finished reading Wil Wheaton's book Just A Geek a couple weeks ago and feel like punishing myself with something obscure and Victorian. Will probably just stick to extra long human interest stories in the paper.

We looked at blood smears in lab yesterday and on my search for a eosinophil I found a great clump of red blood cells that looked like inner tubes floating along a river. I imagined those lazy inner tubes floating along my own circulatory system. Relatedly, I got bummed out when we learned erythrocytes (Red Blood cells) can't undergo mitosis like they're couples who really want babies but who are infertile. The bone marrow is like the adoption agency though dot dot dot I can't write that on my midterm.

There's constantly this battle going on in my head whether I want to be healthy thin with small boobs or healthy chubby with bigger boobs which is what I am now. But I guess I don't have "big boobs" according to this girl with two foot long cleavage from the other night at yoda's house. We were in the privacy of the sidewalk shrubbery when I asked her to size me up. It's good to get 2nd opinions on that matter every other year.

I'm really happy abortion issues are stirring up in the real news, state government meetings and internet sites lately. Hopefully it'll lead to baby planning issues which will end up with religious debates and we'll all become atheists. The end.

After Marc's and my second to last fight and we weren't steaming at each other anymore, Marc brought the Tri-ominoes set into bed and we played a round together while I drank a raspberry lemonade mocktail. I just wanted to remember that for next time. (Reading back that first sentence, I wonder if I need to take a high school level english class.)

I found and read this Sid Vicious handwritten letter to Nancy and got all butthurt that Marc hasn't written me something this sweet/kinda gross but then he showed me a sweet/kinda gross postcard he never mailed me but wrote one night we were fighting but decided to go party with our friends anyway.

I thought this was Amy Winehouse, but it's Lady Gaga.

Ze end!

last one of the night

Alright, I'm pooped!

I sort of meant to crank out a few more GIRL TALK or TRAVEL TRIP posts tonight, but I'm so sick of reading my own writing and I'm sure it's coming off pretty bland tonight because of that. I'm sorry. I'm presently on travel day doce and have last posted travel day cinco ... uhm, not good. I shouldn't be that far behind. I promise you I have very interesting posts from my travel trip in Albuquerque, though. I promise to show you ristras, rattlesnakes, and tourists from the east coast wearing ridiculous cowboy clothes like when Michael J. Fox wore that pink and turquoise costume to the Old West in Back to the Future III, but obviously not as cool. I also have fascinating stories about my accidental conversations with a couple riff raffs from the street. And detailed restaurant recommendations for the cheap gourmand visitor. I even have a little post about the civil rights movement in Albuquerque in the late 60s, early 70s. It's pretty touching :)

Plus, I'm not even done!!

Tomorrow for my grand finale, I will try to sneak onto the Tram of Albuquerque to see the beautiful city from 10,000 feet in the sky. Cross your fingers a group of large Norwegian tourists show up at the same time so I can hide among them like a baby elephant in a herd of mama elephants ... um, that was the worst analogy ever. I AM VERY TIRED, OK? Anyway, you know for my last travel trip day in the Wild West, I will constantly be humming the ZZ Top song from Back to the Future III. I already posted it here on the blog from my trip to Chicago, but here it is again:

it's slightly unsettling how often this song pops up here

Better dust off yer best boots an' pretty little bonnet because we are meeting back here for a hoedown to fit our frontier spirit.

backyard alley cat party

It's been in the mid 90's in sweet Albuquerque. You can hear your skin roasting in the sun.

The babes and I sat in the backyard stalking flies and cicadas. The sun and dry winds fluffed their dusty fur coats.

Bossy Baby.

I'm spying on you, Baby. I'm using my spy zoom lens ...

The toasty cement makes us all sleepy.

They feel protected when I sit outside with them.

in dream world

So, I'm not dating M again, I just ... sleep ... in his bed at night ... occasionally. Goddamn it! Can't a girl get lonely sometimes?

Last night, I had a distressing dream about Marc flirting with a girl by telling her all of my personal bees wax. As far as dreams go, this wasn't a nightmare, I can thank my childhood of watching 80's hardcore gore films for that, but still I woke up annoyed. What would you do? What would Jesus Gonzalez do? Exactly.

I woke up Marc so that he could apologize for dream Marc's stupidity. I mean, really! Flirting with a girl is one thing, but using me as a subject of humiliation? (in dream world). How effing rude (in dream world).

I have a feeling his apology wasn't the sincerest. That's ok, though, dream Marc and dream I are seeing different people as well.

navajo election

mom and i helped my uncle howard campaign outside on the reservation today. all day. sitting in the freezing cold wind. sharp spits of sand whipping our faces and eyes. it was difficult to sit there all day. but we did.

and now i'm back in the city. exhausted and dusty. laying under the blankets eating halloween candy.

we sat there under a canopy and gave out free food and drinks and a little place to eat at. green chile mutton stew, coffee, soda, water, fry bread and chile. and a lot of people came by to chat and eat. there were so many who told us they supported obama. and we sat there. sometimes the convo was spoken in only navajo. other times, they would speak navajo-english hybrid language. and my poor rusty navajo brain was trying its best to keep up.

boom boom growl

santa fe. we jumped the bridge and sat near the creek to drink a couple beers. jay, marc, leeeeeesa, her friend from scotland, and ME. and there was a cool breeze in the warm low sun.
time to hit zozobra. we parked several blocks away but couldn't possibly have gotten lost. there was a jumbled mess of zozobra go-seers walking in the general direction of old man gloom. we merely jumped into the tide.
old man gloom. can you see him?
the other old man gloom.
he growled for approximately twenty minutes while hugely insignificant dancers performed with torches below him.
i was only slightly disappointed by the fact that a growling 50' puppet did not scare me. it should have scared me, right? the soccer moms and stoned teenagers standing shoulder to shoulder beside me took away any remaining magic of the fiesta.

the following videos are incredibly similar, screaming crowd, growling guy, torch dancers, etc. the last video actually shows his demise.