You know how you get those wacky urban legend e-mails about some babysitter in Maryland taking too many aspirins and winding up in some bathtub in Mexico without her kidney? Or something like that. This week I got two awesome e-mails that are 100% true.

The first one came from my friend Ann and was about her 4 year old nephew. Apparently he was out with his family and wanted to play one of those vending machines where you have to use the claw to get the prize, but you never can, so you end up spending like $15.00 bucks on nothing. His Mom wouldn’t give him any money to play, so he decided to just crawl inside the machine to get a toy out himself. Did you hear me? He got inside the machine. Through that little opening at the bottom.

You see where this is going, right?

He got stuck. And the pizza joint they were at didn’t have a key to get him out. So the owner of the machine had to be contacted to come and let the kid out. Good think the kid wasn’t freaking out. In fact, he was having a blast. Eventually he even fell asleep. When they finally got him out, the owner offered him a toy from the machine. His Mom wouldn’t let him accept it. She didn’t want him rewarded for his bad behavior. I was pretty impressed that she stuck to her guns.

The next e-mail arrived this morning from my friend May. One of her friends from Church sent her a picture of her daughter with Santa for May to see. I was all, “Why is May sending this to me? I could care less about some kid I don’t even know!”

That’s when I actually looked at the picture.

That’s right people; she’s giving you the bird. That’s what she thinks about you and your stupid Holiday Season.

When I was in high school I remember my Mom told me that I would be lucky enough to have a few very special friends that would span my entire lifetime. I remember wondering who those friends would be, wondering if I knew them yet, or when they might come into my life.

My Mom also told me that most likely I didn’t know them yet and that I had many more friends I would meet; women that I didn’t even know existed. Women who would help me be a better person.

I met Marci in the 9th grade. She had moved to our small town at the start of the school year and had made friends with some (wacky) girls from her neighborhood. We had a few classes together and would walk to those classes together. That was it.

Slowly we became better friends. We realized we lived near each other, had some of the same likes, plus, we cracked each other up. Next thing I knew, we were inseparable. You couldn’t find Marci without finding me close by. The funny thing is that Marci and I weren’t a lot alike. She dressed better then I did, had better hair, better teeth, a cuter brother, and was probably a little smarter than I was.

As time went on, we became more and more alike. Somehow we discovered The Beatles and our lives and friendship was forever changed. Everything we did, everything we talked about revolved around our love for John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Everything.

I’m pretty sure this was around the time that we started to wear tie-dye, part our hair down the middle and not shave our legs (okay, I was the only that didn’t shave. Marci always did.) Marci even had a disco ball in her car. How awesome is that?

We both got boyfriends our senior year and things slowed down for us in the friendship department. Meaning, we didn’t speak our entire senior year until graduation day. And then we bawled our eyes out. I felt so stupid for wasting my senior year by not having Marci by my side. I knew we had missed out on some formidable years-memories that I would be sorry I had missed. I looked into the future and knew I would always regret my senior year sans Marci.

We vowed to never break-up again. And we never have. Although Marci and I went to different schools, we stayed in contact during college (and this was all before e-mail and cell phones). Marci met her husband while she was in college. He had long blond hair, wore sandals year round, and quoted Khalil Gibran. He was a real live hippy and I thought he was dreamy.

They got married and I wore a shiny purple dress and watched them dance together to John Denver at their wedding and then drive away into the sunset. Eventually they had a baby. And another one. And another one. Sometime during all of this I got married, divorced, and married again. Marci was always there. She was my constant, even if we didn’t even live in the same state.

Marci’s the only friend that knew I was pregnant each time. She was the only person that knew about the miscarriages. She was the one that called me at 9 weeks into my pregnancy with Babboo to see how I was doing. She’s the one that I call and talk to when I pumping breast milk at work. She’s the only person in real life that knows about this blog.

Marci’s the one my Mom was talking about. The friend that would be with me my entire life. The friend that would make me a better person.

Happy Birthday Marci. Thanks for being with me for the good and the bad these last 17 years, and for making me laugh my ass off the entire time.

It happens every year. I got bombarded with calls and e-mails from family and friends; “what does The King want for Christmas?!” I respond by telling them that any ideas I have for him I’m keeping myself because I have a hard time buying for him also!

The King knows that everyone has a hard time buying for him. This year he sent me an e-mail back in November that gave me a list of suggestions for him. Awesome. I immediately forwarded it to his Mom and my sister with a note telling them that I had my own ideas this year and they could buy him anything on that list.

And then I forgot about the list.

That is until The King’s Mom called me last week to discuss his list. Apparently she had tried to find one of the items and just couldn’t find it anywhere. She had gone to the Volkswagen dealer to ask about it and when they didn’t know anything, she looked online.

So what is this item that my sweet, dear mother in law couldn’t find?

Truck nuts.

You know, those gross veiny things that cowboys the world over have on their huge trucks. Yeah, those.

Isabel: He asked for truck nuts? Are you sure? He doesn’t really want those. Are you sure they were on his wish list?

My dear sweet mother in law: There were on his list. I looked online. Do you know what those things are?!!!

Isabel: Yes. And I can promise you he doesn’t really want those. If they were on his list, it was a joke.

My dear sweet mother in law: Good. Because I’m not getting them for him.

Phew.

I told The King about this and he freaked out. He told me that I should never, ever forward an e-mail from him without first reading it. I’m sure I read it. Maybe I just missed that part. I mean, duh, I would never send his Mom an e-mail with the word “nuts” in it.

Ewww.

I went back to my e-mail this morning trying to find the original e-mail from The King. Just to see if truck nuts were really on the list:

“here are a few things that i may want for christmas if anyone asks or if you care at all. a new pair of slippers. some peppermint and wintergreen and clove essential oils. trucknuts, in grey or natural, for the jetta. a book of things that parents should know like answers to their kids questions and math and stuff. tapes on how to learn italian. a book about how to get inspired to make art. a little moleskin notebook.”

Holy crap. They were on the list. Although they were sort of hidden in the middle of the list. And you can’t really tell that he was joking about it.

Be assured, he won’t be getting truck nuts for Christmas this year. Or any year for that matter.

(The King is getting the best gift I’ve ever given in the history of gifts that I have given. Thanks to Katja for helping me out with it! It’s going to rock his socks off.)

first off, let me say for the record that i’m a generally nice person. and i’m constantly trying to be better.
in an effort to help me be a better person, i ask you, the driving population of seattle, to remember the following simple rules:

1.) if you see a long line of cars waiting to turn left, or right, and the other lane is pretty much empty, DO NOT drive up to the front of the line, and attempt to turn in. you, sir, are an asshole for doing this and should be stopped by police and beaten rodney king style.

2.) if you anticipate a turn at an upcoming light, and can see that there is a line forming, get in it ASAP. refer to rule one.

3.) if you are over 65 years of age, turn in your license at the DMV, and get a bus pass.

4.) if you have any of the following in your car:

an air freshener on the dashboard shaped like a robot or hello kitty extra gauges for ‘racing’ stuffed animals in the rear window you are a menace to the roadway and should also turn in your license, assuming you have one.

5.) don’t block the intersection. just don’t. if the light is yellow and there is no room for you on the other side of the intersection, wait the lousy 90 seconds until the light changes again and then go.

6.) if i’m in the lane next to you, and i’m following rule #5, under no circumstances should you move through the intersection and into my lane, behind the car in front of me. i’m waiting semi-patiently for room to free up, and you just took my room. i will honk at you, and you should be ashamed of yourself.

7.) have insurance or don’t drive. and if you are caught without insurance, you should be executed on the spot, your car set ablaze as a lesson to all other drivers on the road. people who drive without insurance are as bad as people who drink and drive.

and last, if you hear someone honking, it may be at you. you are probably driving in front of me. please do your best to translate my honk into one of the following categories:

• you look like you may be kinda hot, but i need to see your face to decide.
• you are driving too slow or disobeying one of the above rules.
• you are driving like you are not from this neighborhood, and you should go back.
• we are in a tunnel and i wanted to hear the horn echo.

if we could all abide by these simple courtesies, we will all be happier, mostly because i will be happier.
thanks for your support.

(it took me about an hour to drive what normally takes about 7 minutes last night. ugh.)

The new iPod has taken over my life. And get this, I still haven’t taken it out of the box.

So what am I doing? I’m busy converting all of my .wma files into .mp3 files. This wouldn’t be such a drag, except that my laptop’s hard drive is FULL and so I have to pull a file into iTunes and then delete the original .wma file.

So exciting.

(And by “exciting” I really mean “not exciting at all”.)

I’m basically ready to poke my eyes out with all the extra pens sitting on my desk.

Serenity now!!

I think that instead of Apple charing for iPods, they should be paying me for doing all this work myself. And since my laptop is so full, it’s running extra slow and making my real work that they do pay me to do take a very long time.

And to make matters even more buggy, The King recently started calling my Sweet Babboo “Doug”. It’s killing me. And not in a good way.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with the name Doug. But it isn’t Babboo’s name. Not even close. (Okay, they both have a “U” in them. But that’s it.) I asked The King if he didn’t like Babboo’s name. He said he did like it, he just thought Doug sounded funny.

I don’t think it’s funny at all.

Which makes The King think it’s even funnier.

GAH!

He’ll think funny when I forget to make it to our scheduled “nooner” tomorrow.

We draw names in my family for Christmas. We each get one person and the limit is $30.00. This year I drew my younger brother’s name and I really struggled with it.

What do you buy a 26 year old married guy who has a 1 year old little girl?

I’d love to buy him something that he would enjoy, but he enjoys his Xbox way too much and I can’t be a party to him spending more time enjoying it. So games for that are OUT. I’m not sure if he reads books, and if he does read, I wouldn’t even know what kind of books he likes. I don’t know what movies he likes and doesn’t already own. I’m not sure what kind of music he listens to, or even what TV shows he likes to watch. I don’t know what size of clothes he wears or if he even needs new clothes.

Plus I only have $30.00 to work with.

I called my younger sister, my Mom and even my Aunt looking for suggestions. I asked my male coworkers and even some of you for help. While everyone had awesome suggestions, none of them felt right for my baby brother.

I finally realized yesterday that I just don’t know my brother anymore. It made me sad to think that, but it’s true. My brother had been living in North Carolina for a year when I moved out to Seattle over 6 years ago. I didn’t see him for another year after I moved out here and by then The King and I were married and settled out here in the Pacific Northwest. I see him for an hour or so every trip I make out to see my family. He and his wife came out to Seattle for a few days almost 2 years ago. We talk on the phone a few times a month. That’s it.

But I just don’t know him.

I’ll probably never again get the chance to just hang out with him like we did when we were younger. We’ll never live in the same house and sit on the couch together watching “Star Trek” (his fave, not mine) or “Doctor Who” on PBS (again, his fave). We probably won’t get many chances to ride horses together, or take our 3-wheelers up in the canyon. And I’m pretty sure that I’ll never have to drive him to his Scouting activities.

It’s just weird to think about. To think that we grew up living under the same roof, being raised by the same parents, being a part of the same family. And yet, are almost complete strangers today.

What did I end up buying him for Christmas? A compilation CD and some fancy shave cream. (I had to call my Mom to ask if my brother even shaves with a razor. For all I know he could have a full beard.)

Even though I don’t know my brother, I still love him with the same intensity that I did when we were younger. I’d do anything for him and his little family and I’m excited for the next time I get to see him.