THE PRICE OF FRIENDS by (me!) sandra, tvgp
rich people, you see.. they don't know what they're missin'
the fun! the adventures! the drama!
like the time my sister and i wanted to have a drink together at a local bar. like, really bad. it was one of those rare, rare, saturday nights when her ex-husband had their kids, and my ex-husband had our kids, and we both had a saturday night free
and all we wanted in the whole wide world was to hang out together, listen to some live music and have a beer
but we are both on what some people politely describe as
very tight budgets. and we knew we could only afford one beer each if we could beat the cover charge clock, so first thing my sister did was call to find out when the cover charge started, then called me back
"okay," she said, "cover starts at 8pm, but their clock is ten minutes fast, so really 7:50..
what time is it now?" she says, "oh my! can you put your make-up on and be down there in like, 5 minutes?!"
and i, phone in one hand, mascara brush in the other, said, "YES! i'm painting my face and putting on my clothes at the same time write now! love you! bye" -click.
and i really did.. somehow.. brush my hair, paint my face, and hop my pants on, and zip up my boots and run out the door and drive really safely fast, and found a parking spot, all in like, under 5 minutes
and i'm walk-racing from my parking spot to the brewery when the stupid light at the corner -only three storefronts away, turns BIG FAT RED and i have to stand there, panting, waiting for a bunch of stupid cars to pass by
gotta beat the cover... gotta beat the cover... come on cars! for goodness sake.. hurry up already!
and i did think about running in between the cars driving by.. a quick dash.. but then a STUPID POLICE CAR is making it's way around the corner, and i thought.. -k- maybe not.
so i'm tapping my feet, hands on my hips, waiting for the stupid animated walking man to light up, only.. exactly when the light changes, here comes a family to the corner,
that i knowthat i know but haven't seen in a long while. "hi sandra! how are you doin'"
and i realize in that moment, that despite the fact i was able to pretty my face, calm my hair, clothe my body, and drive my car, and find a parking spot, and make it three store fronts away from the brewery, all in under 5 minutes
i realize in that very moment that i'm not going to beat the cover. i'm going to pay the cover and enjoy a nice tall glass of water;
on the rocks, please.and so they ask me about me, and my kids..
and i ask them about them and their kids...
and the light has changed red to white five or six times by the time they go there way and i go mine.
darn it. those friends just cost me $5! MEANWHILE, my sister has a race of her own going on. she's doing the same thing.. brush in one hand, car keys in the other..
gotta beat the cover. gotta beat the coverand she speed-readies herself, runs out toward her car, only EXACTLY as she has the key in the ignition, and just before she closes the door, a neighbor comes over
starts in on what seems to be "a very important conversation!" -my sister tells me. and then with great animation, and arms thrown to the air, adds on, "about pigeons!"
and i'm just crackin' up listening to her tell her side of the beat the cover story
"ten minutes!" she cries, "for ten minutes she wants to tell me about pigeons!"
"lady.." -and of course she didn't share her thoughts out loud.. but she shared them with me.
over a nice cold beer, and with live music in the background. because despite the family i ran into and our ten minute visit on the corner of ray and main
and despite the neighbor that came to her car for a ten minute visit about pigeons. -somehow we both beat the cover clock. talked and laughed and danced together from saturday night 'til yawn.
and i was thinkin'
i was thinkin' how funny the whole thing was.. what an adventure it turned out to be and how much laughter it yielded
and when i read leonard stegmann's recycled post this morning about rich people, that's what it made me think:
how rich people; they miss out on these sorts of things.
AMAZING MOM/MESSY HOUSE by (me!) sandra, ttgp
i cleaned my kitchen and my refrigerator today. and it is far less than i hoped, but more than i accomplished yesterday
and when cleaning becomes so difficult, i remember the drugs i took after my baby boy was born.. legal, prescribed, drugs that accomplished two amazing things 1) helped me lose weight 2) helped me clean the house
like, spotless!
and if i could take those drugs everyday (this is the problem you see.. you start thinking like that.. every.day. drugs everyday) i'd be skinny with a spotless house and fit write in with today's standards for house wife and mother of the year.
and i'd still be married probably, because when i took those drugs, the counters looked bran new, the vacuum stripes in the carpet ~ the envy of professionals ~ bills paid! papers organized! and laundry..
not only was my laundry sorted, separated, washed, dried.. it was folded, hung, and put away according to season and color and size!
i was skinny AND amazingly productive! -but then, the drugs started to lose their power-
one didn't do it. needed one and a half. then two. and i could see i was headed for disaster.
but God they were effective! i remember waking up, taking care of morning routines for my two little ones, playing for a little while, getting them fed, dressed, in a safe place to play, and hang out..
and then needing to rest. like, -that was it- i was tired already. but there was so much more to do.. i needed non-stop energy for two kids, ALL DAY, AND a husband, AND a house
and knowing that, i would just lay there... just lay on the bed... lay on the bed, in the bed, unless i was specifically needed to address a cry, change a diaper or prepare a snack
until i took one of those magical pills! ~ wah lah ~
she pops out of bed, prepares three meals, cleans counters, pushes the kids in the swing, takes three phone calls, vacumms with one hand, holds child in the other, recites nursery rhymes..
i did it all PLUS helped my neighbors.
but the pills started losing their potency, and my blood pressure was at -near death- when i tried to get my prescription refilled
death or divorce? death or divorce?i really had to think about it for a while. i could not -COULD NOT- get even half the things accomplished without the pills that i could with them
it is an energy, i learned through this experience, that cannot be self-manufactured no matter how well you eat or exercise. it can ONLY be achieved through pharmaceuticals.
and i can see why drugs are so prevalent and so dangerous here in this community; in this day and age
because the expectations placed on both men and women are way outside realistic.
once i was able to lower my expectations and place them closer to a drug-free reality... to accept and celebrate what little i did accomplish each day
i really came to a place of personal happiness and acceptance. when i stopped trying to meet the unrealistic expectations of others
when i shifted my priorities away from super-wife, super-mom, super crafter
away from super anything. (
they'll have to settle for amazing).
and i think, every now again, how even though my blood pressure registered near death when i went asking for a refill prescription, i still wanted more.
your brain gets highjacked that way..
and so i'm VERY GRATEFUL my doctor denied me. "you're gonna make me go find something in the streets?" i asked him, all pissed off and scared to death
and i half thought about that too... even though my blood pressure registered near death, there were a few moments (hours?) i thought,
if he doesn't refill my prescription i'll go find some guy on the corner who will!but, thank God, i came to my senses; slowly.
and i'm alive as a result i think. i'm not skinny. i don't have a sparklin' house. i'm divorced. i don't get nearly as much done
but God am i a hell of a lot happier AND healthier living life at my own pace and my natural weight.
still..
these past couple days.. i can't describe how stifled/stumped i feel... how painfully, drastically, UNmotivated..
and it's not like it's hard labor or anything. it's all so doable.. squirt here, wipe there, sort here, organize there, dust there, vacuum here, laundry, dishes, papers, papers, papers, bills..
but i just look and want to cry sometimes. want someone else to come do it. i've done it one thousand million times, and it takes 12 hours and it lasts 10 fucking minutes.
that's why i love to write i think.
oh! to go back and see it's still there, my story, just as i left it.. something that lasts.
anyway.. i look at the mess i have ahead, and often whisper out loud,
- need those drugs! i'd have this place cleaned up in no time! - but what good is a clean house if mom's dead?
and so i just do a little.. just a little somethin'... like the dishes, cleaning out the refrigerator
and then i go "
WOW! SANDRA.. LOOK AT THAT!
YOU ARE AMAZING!"
and i open the door to my clean refrigerator several times to admire my own work and sing my own praises
and then treat myself to more reading...
my favortie reward.
and you know what i love about books? i love that when you sit down, with a book in your lap, and a drink to your side,
and you open to the page saved by your lovely book mark (or folded page)
the only thing you see on that page is WORDS of the story, by the author.
NO POP UP ADDS COME BOUNCING OUT, no scroll of words is distracting you at the bottom of the page, no commercials are fighting for your attention, no little forms are falling out left and write, like they do from magazines. no dancing, animated, anythings! books are heaven...
just relevant words, by the author, on a beautiful page. that's it.
and i finished barack obama's book today. the upshot, is that my respect and admiration has only deepened. i have him on a pedestal i believe he has earned, and at the same time, know that he is human, flawed, and evolving.
and he made his announcement today for vp: biden.
and here is the only thing i know of biden: that over the years, i've channel surfed and landed occasionally on political shows of one kind or another
and very often the politician i land on, and listen to, will say something so stupid, in my opinion, and in under 10 minutes of watching/listening, that i have no choice but to change the channel and as fast as i can
but - on the occasions i channel surfed, and accidentally landed on biden - i could always watch for more than ten minutes
how'd this normal, reasonable man sneak through the cracks? i'd wonder
and that's all i know, but i have an appetite now to learn more, and think we may in fact have a dream team in our american hands.
FRED ROVER, DREAD ROVER by (me!) sandra, ttgp
car show at the fairgrounds behind me, plus the farmer's market ahead.. my neighborhood is packed with people today; mostly men. they're everywhere!
this would have been the perfect day for me to discover FRED ROVER ONE in my garage, but no. the streets were practically abandon that day; some three days ago now. i was so alone.
and terrified.
there i was, all showered, shined and good smellin, in my cute tea length denim skirt, white shirt and sandals, with the bare skin of my feet, and darling red painted toenails all vulnerable to the outside elements
i grabbed the silver metal handle of the garage door, gave it a secret code combination twist and then started liftin'
and i was smiling. i was smiling because i knew once i lifted the garage door all the way open, which requires me toward the end to balance on my tip-toes
i was going to be rewarded with the beautiful vision of all the hard work i had put into cleaning, vacuuming and organizing my side of the garage.
"wow! you truly are amazing sandra" i thought to myself, "and brave!" -because it is scary, scary, scary moving boxes all around when you just know in any given second a big, fast, creepy, crawly thing and all it's cousins are going to come racing toward you. but i wore gloves and i had spray
plus james morrison
so got the job done.
and didn't i just feel all proud of myself as i was hopping in my hybrid to take off for the day. i removed my right sandal (because otherwise i can't work the gas pedal), reversed her out of my beautiful clean garage onto the driveway and put her back in park so i could hop out and pull the garage door closed
and that's when i saw him
that's when i screamed and did the heebie-jeebie dance; one foot bare
there he lay on his back, in creepy crawling motion, on a freshly sprayed and vacuumed, perfectly clean patch of cement.
is this the devil at recess; or God at work?
and i know that most people when meeting neighbors for the first time, might say something like, "hi. my name is blah, blah, blah.. what's your's? and, nice to meet you and things like that
but i spotted a lady minding her own business on the other side of the street and i felt quite comfortable yelling in a panic
"hey! -you know anything about bugs?!"
and that's how i met my three doors down and across the street neighbor laurie. she came over just like that and took a look. and she debated out loud whether he was a cockroach, or a beetle, or some other bug creature that starts with a p.. parlimeeto? -can't remember. some bug that loves wood -which- as an artist, i just happen to have three shit loads of in my garage
but she said.. "i get them too. you can just sweep them out and the birds will eat 'em."
too late for that, though. i already poisoned natures bird food.
and me being who i am, i had to take his picture. because i'm planning on graduating from my own mental academic bug desensitization program.
i tapped into my courage reserves just to scoot that stupid quarter next to him and help tame my own exaggerations about how big he was. without that quater, which took me some ten minutes plus to sweep near his frozen dead, poisoned body, i would have claimed he was the size of a hub cap on an airplane's tire
but i think this effort, as pathetic as it is, qualifies me for entry level hope status in the college of that's enough!
but now i must confess, when i uploaded his pictures on my computer, clicked slide show
and portraits of FRED ROVER ONE -unidentified dead bug on back, flashed full screen size on my monitor screen
the only twelve steps i took were instant and backwards.
"holy to God shit!" i screamed. jumped out of my chair, covered my face, ran backwards into the wall and started singin' opera.
it is a genuine full fledge phobia.
and after our photo shoot, FRED ROVER ONE remained on the floor, quarter next to him, because, for one, i just couldn't tolerate being near him again, and two, i had to show him to my children.
they love this kind of thing; mommy scared shitless.
and they delighted in telling all about the giant bug in our garage to the crossing guard on our way to school. then she started talking to us in great detail about these cockroach, beetle like creatures, some 5 inches long, she used to get at her place in florida. "they fly" she said. and quite instantly i jumped back and gasped at the terrifying image she put in my mind of this thing in my garage flying at me.
my children just laughed and laughed. -but having heard this, didn't i consider it a gift from God now that i found FRED on the ground. on his back. immobile and helpless.
had i gone closer to FRED with the toxic spray can, and he suddenly flipped over and took flight toward me... i promise you i would still be running around pleasanton with one shoe on, one shoe off, waving my arms wildly in the air yelling "code orange! code orange! somebody call 911!"
and this brings me exactly where i hoped to eventually arrive. at eric kandel's work with sweet aplysia, the marine snail, and the difference between habitization and sensitization.
i understand the results of his research completely, but struggle like heck trying to explain it to others. ... the threshold... ... that tipping point... but here i go again:
habitization goes like this: i see FRED. i run and scream. -but- through repeated exposures to FRED, eventually, over time, i go from a run to a walk, from a scream to a sigh, until one day, even the size of six giant FREDS floating in my cereal bowl doesn't phase me.
this can also be referred to as a miracle.
sensitization goes like this: FRED attacks me. i run and scream. end up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. someone wants to help through habituating me; thinks by showing me a thumbnail size picture of a FRED in a calm environment, i'll slowly recover
but instead i have a heart attack and die.
it is crucial, crucial, crucial -life or death- to understand the physical/mental impact of that initial stimuli so you know whether desensitization techniques will hurt or heal.
and now, yesterday, i encountered DREAD ROVER TWO, fred's not-lost-long-enough-for-me younger brother.
i ran for the spray and sent another early bird for just a worm.
but i think i might hide the spray and prop the broom against the wall where i can see it and get to it quickly.
then next time i encounter one of these DREAD ROVERS in my garage
i'll hop on and fly away.
speaking of getting lost in someone else's story.. re-reading melania -sandra mickanen sharing
it was a fast read, my first go round; re-reading with pen and paper, as i like to do..
slow down, process.. and i'll return to this post with my notes. but to start..
-as a reader, everything is 'relative' to my own experience; that is.. i was born and raised in the bay area of california, USA.. and i've never been to europe.
-to read about melania arriving in 'America' -age 26 years old, left her family, with just 2 suitcases, a portfolio, and a dream.. landing in New York.. her journey to citizenship..
and i re-read now, with the advantage of having already learned about her education in architecture/design, and of course, the modeling/fashion
**** tbc
pg 4: Life's circumstances share you in many ways, often entirely beyond your control -- your birth, parental influences, and the world in which you grow up. As an adult, there comes a moment when you become solely responsible for the life you lead. You must take charge, embrace that responsibility, and become the architect of your own future.
melania's two pivotal moments in chapter 1:
1996, age 26, arriving in NY 'America'
2006, ten years later, becoming an American Citizen.
i smile to read about Melania's reactions to New York.. it does remind me of my 1st visit to NY, with my sister, February, for my 21st birthday, got to bring my best friend; my sister [Melania also very close w/her sister] -all thank you to our Dad, who let us piggy-back ride on one of his business trips..
i have all the memories somewhere in the archives here; but.. promise you this: arriving in NY for the 1st time; when you were born/raised in the Bay Area of Northern California -it still felt for us like a very far away, foreign country... -world travelers..
i think about it often: when i am talking to people who do lots of traveling; people who 'became' US citizens -always in contrast to my own experience; born and raised in the USA..
***
CHAPTER TWO: THE WIN
Melania marks her ballot for Donald Trump
pg 6: Handing over those pieces of paper, we completed a significant step in the American democratic process that I had grown up admiring from afar, a process I was now squarely in the middle of, a process that would soon thrill me, and sometimes, in the coming years, confuse me -- like it did millions of other Americans.
Re: THE WIN -my own memories.. 2016: waking up, and seeing JuJu in tears. I was renting a room from the Koopman Family.. grateful beyond words they took me in.. sharing the room with many boxes from my (former) public storage locker I could no longer afford. -working at the time, at Alden Lane Nursery Gardens.. quite possibly, still also working at Ricks Picks..
but yes, I remember JuJu crying.. and wondering what had happened? was she hurt? did she receive terrible heart-breaking news...
she did hear terrible heart-breaking news: Hillary Clinton lost the election.
-everyone, self included -utterly surprised. -taken aback..
in the late evening, when we had headed to our rooms.. Hillary, i believe was in the lead.. we had a sense of (false) security.
by the morning.. TRUMP had won. it didn't match.
-fair question for anyone: what impact? what direct impact? do the election results have on our everyday lives? i continued to rent a room for several months, working 2 part time, and then 1 full time job, pay-check to pay-check, raising my children, balancing my rent-a-room life, with co-parenting.. moving eventually to a room in san leandro with my mom and her husband, rick.. and grateful beyond words they took me in.. rent free, but, having my commute go from 5-10 minutes, to 45 minutes to an hour and a half...
*****
remember this book exclusively covers Melania's first time as First Lady, and i was already looking forward, hoping she'd publish a book about her /her husbands 47th Presidency too..
turns out, there is a movie instead [ or in addition to?]: Melania
comes out in theaters Jan 30th, 2026. Yes, of course I want to go...
******
SLAFE. WOWN. FLEAS. by (me!) sandra, tvgp
it is a spiritual practice: shrink attention to the negative. magnify attention toward the positive. and in my effort to shrink.. I don't write much, and try not to think about my commute. although, I have to say, it does tax me, and I always have to spend a couple minutes -recovering- when I arrive "I'm alive!" to work.
and as cars speed by, cut between, zig zag, and selfishly put so many other people at risk, in order to not let their arrogance, ignorance get the best of me, I just pray.
I look directly at the car going terrible speeds.. and to Jesus I say,
"keep them safe. slow them down. wake them up." and I must say it six or ten times to and from work.. the opportunity presents itself quite frequently..
k
and so, ive gotten pretty good.. I stay calm.. I pray... I listen to music.. I drive...
but then,
I do have a number of accidents ive directly been in always reminding me.. how quickly it can all go wrong -one false move.. one bad judgement on whether or not you can fit, at 85 mph between two cars going 70 mph..
and so, I was all cool, calm and singing, driving when I glanced in my rearview mirror and in just a prior glance, no one for several car lengths behind me, but now all of the sudden.. a car going 90, and coming up so fast... -1/2 INCH FROM MY REAR.. like someone changed my rearview mirror to super sonic zoom
" slafe... Jesus... flease... them awake.. slow..."
I could not think or organize my thoughts. it startled the order write out of my prayer and rearranged sounds..
so, now I don't bother with the whole... keep them safe. slow them down. wake them up. who has time for all that...
I just say
safe. slow. awake.
and sometimes,
slafe. awow. sake.
and sometimes I say,
Jesus take the wheel...
and sometimes... can someone please get me out of here.
hallelujah & amen.
***
I can drive all freeways with God who strengthens (me!)....
amen! I will not write on this topic again.
***
"Thank You! Jesus!" for all the blessings I am swimming in.. itemized list in prayer..
amen.
