Watching the moonrise....

Greetings and salutations!

How the heck is everyone out there tonight? I am listening to a few of my favorite songs and watching the moon rise. Franz decided to be bartender tonight, and let me tell you he makes a fearsome Cosmopolitan. I had 2 1/2 of them and went to bed. But now it is 12:44 am and I am up. Wide awake, actually. And, yet, still half in the bag. Weird, huh?

So, the day before yesterday was scary. Franz and I were on the MAX coming home from the soccer game (the Timbers won- in spite of a sucky ref who should burn in hell- woo hoo!) And there was this guy and girl fighting. At first I thought the girl knew the guy and it was a lover's tiff. No biggie. Then I heard her yell, "Get the fuck away from me, I've got a 9."

When you are in love and happy with the man you are sitting beside on public transportation, the words "I've got a 9" are the last you want to hear. Well, maybe second to last behind, "Honey, I went to the clinic and they tell me I've got HIV. You might want to get yourself checked out." Geez, that would be bad.

Anyway, so this bastard on the MAX continues to antagonize the girl with the 9mm handgun. And I am thinking, "You asshole, leave her the fuck alone because ricochets are a bitch." And, amazingly, in spite of the fact that she was armed, she was terrified of this bastard. She was backed up to the last section of the train, and getting louder, hoping that someone would help her. I recognized the tone in her voice, and yet I did nothing. I was amazed, but all I could think was, "I just want to get home with my boyfriend and to my dog." I hate myself for thinking that- for not coming to her aid. But what could I have done? Brandished my mace threateningly? Yeah, right. If the idea of a gun wasn't slowing the little freak down, I sincerely doubt the prospect of pepper spray would have bothered him.

So, instead, I spent the time thinking about what a bullet to the back of my skull would feel like. Do you feel that indentation at the base of your skull, just where your skull meets your spinal cord? That's the spot I was thinking of. I was also thinking of how I would protect Franz if something happened. And how maybe the metal that comprises the MAX is thin enough that a bullet wouldn't ricochet, but just pass through and land on the street after a massive deceleration.... without harming a soul. You know, wishful thinking. And not five feet from me this girl was holding up her bike's front wheel, loaded down with bags and scared to death, trying to ward off the boogie man... the one every woman has nightmares about. The one that is irrational, and can't be reasoned with. The one who was screaming at her, "What? You think you're all HARD because you've got a nine?!?! I'm not scared of you, bitch!"

Me, personally, I was scared of both of them. All I could think was, "These kids are going to get somebody killed because they are both scared to look small." Incidentally, you know you are old when you think of people who have the ability to get you killed as "kids".

I'm scared to look small all the time, but I just talk to Franz or my Mom about it. Sad to think that neither of these kids has someone like that to talk to. For me, they take that feeling away. Better than a gun, better than yelling at a stranger that I am not scared of them. I guess that is one of the things that love is all about.

But that was the day before yesterday.

Anyway, today I got alot done. I sent out 3 resumes for jobs I actually think I could do. I took Buddy to the dog park for some exercise. I did 3 loads of laundry. I got pizzas for Franz and me. And, as evidenced by the jumpiness of this blog, got hammered on Cosmopolitans... again. That's about all.

On a different note, big thanks to J.Po for the advice on weaning off anti-depressants. I wonder if she has an opinion on alcohol use during this process. I am coming down firmly against it since a headache is starting to come on right now. Ah well, live and learn.

Here's hoping that the newest hurricane doesn't kill my loved ones... who have (somewhat insanely) decided not to evacuate. I love you guys. Please take care.

Love to all,

Sherry