sunshine? check.
70 degree weather? check.
lovey, white fluffy dog waiting for me at home? check?
shopping for new clothes cause everything is too big? check.
fabulous boyfriend gentleman caller who surprises me with weekend getaways? check.
best friend's wedding this weekend? friends & family flying in? check check.
aforementioned fabulous boyfriend gentleman caller coming to said wedding? check.
audience of captivated & enthralled readers? check.

life just doesn't get much better.


And There Was Much Rejoicing Throughout The Land

e2theLos is proud to announce that she is no longer sans marion!

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How to Spend Your Saturday

[los:] you don't look so good. late night? hung over?
[j:] no, i just don't feel great.
[los:] you know what'll cure that...
[j:] no really. i've been having chest pains. last night it was really bad...maybe i had a small heart attack.
[los:] OMG was it during sex??!
[j:] you are so out of control.

moments pass.

[j:] i think i need to go to the emergency room.
[los:] are you serious?!?!
[j:] yeah, i just need to get this checked out.
[los:] okay, let's go.
[j:] nah, i'll be fine.
[los:] you cannot take yourself to the er. how depressing. i'll get the cab.

we got there at 3:45pm. we left at 10:15pm. and those six and a half hours now make up one of my most interesting experiences, well, ever.

first there was the snappily-dressed black woman who called her friend to tell her that "there are people here from kentucky!" and "they were on a bus tour!" and "turtles, it's their daughter's wedding anniversary, too, can you believe it?" next there was the stinky, one-shoed man who came in wearing scrubs & pushing one of those half-sized grocery carts. he had to talk to everyone in the er and make a big scene when he didn't get the right paperwork. i get the feeling he spends a lot of time in there. of course, he & his stink had to sit next to me. we moved seats.

at this point, j is called into the actual er. it's been a little over two hours, and i am now left all alone. here's where it gets good.

not five minutes after j abandons me for chest pains, i hear "motherfuckin' health department called my house and shit - why they gotta call my house - they knew i sick they shoulda told me or given me some medicine or shit..." i look up to see this large black woman, wearing so much fake gold jewelry that i actually had to turn my head, coming right toward me. of course. she is carrying a large pizza, a bag of something that smells like french fries, and a huge coke. "...callin' my house - they knew i got something - motherfuckin' health department gave me tuberculosis and shit - i ain't got no air in my house - it a hundred degrees and i bet i got TB." INSERT AWFUL, HACKING COUGH HERE.

she gets her paperwork, sits down next to me, of course and has calmed down to the point that she is no longer yelling - just talking in a loud voice. then she disappears down the hall, but i can still hear her. she comes back about ten minutes later, walks up to the reception desk, and starts yelling about how no one has called her to be triaged yet.

[TB lady:] why nobody ain't called my name yet?
[nurse lady:] ma'am, we called your name already. no one came.
[TB lady:] well i was on the phone.
[nurse lady:] well, you need to stay right here and wait for us to call you.
[TB lady:] shiiit, well then fine i'll stand right here, RIGHT HERE."
[nurse lady:] no, you need to sit down and wait.

tb lady then comes over to the sitting area and asks for fifty cents. no one budges. she shuffles back to where she was on the phone down the hall and says "don't hang up - i ain't got no more change."

at this point it's been almost three hours and i start to pace. whilst i am walking around, two older gentleman who have been talking football walk by me and ask, "skins gonna win monday, right?" to which i responded, "oh, sorry - i'm a dallas fan." at this point, the man in the redskins jersey SPITS AT MY FEET, i shit you not.

tb lady has now come back & has noticed she has a friend in the waiting room. what a small world! tb lady & her friend are commiserating over the lack of ac in their respective homes.

[TB lady:] ain't got no air. all i got to do is just sit in that hot house & suffer.
(i'm thinking, maybe go outside? buy a fan, instead of a large pizza, fries & a coke?)
[TB lady's friend:] you know you gotta write a letter about that shit...let's go outside and have a cigarette.
[TB lady:] yeah, that's what i need - a cigarette.

now j sends me a text to come back into the er with him; at least we'll have safety in numbers. but the authoritative presence of the doctors doesn't slow down any of the action: one man kept screaming at random intervals, i saw the police enter an exam room with a camera and a forensics kit, one person came in with an EMT on his chest doing compressions, i heard a rectal exam, one guy in a wheel chair kept sneaking into the er & hiding in a corner, and TB lady gave her phone number to young, hot, gay guy who had been present for all her yelling & coughing. i'm thinking i probably wouldn't call someone who seems so sick - physically and mentally - but maybe that's just me...

let me tell you, if you're ever bored, give yourself a quick stab in the leg with a dull pencil & head on over to the GW er. you'll be there all night, but you'll never be bored...
ps - j is just fine. well, as fine as one can be with inexplicable chest pains.



as if i wasn't proud enough already -

Dear Heather,

I just returned from the Austin Convention Center after working all day with Katrina Evacuees. Austin is hosting 5,000 people and all I can say is that after seeing what 5,000 clean and safe evacuees look like, I can’t even begin to imagine what the Superdome or even the initial arrival at the Astrodome looked like. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that in Houston, whenever a family finds each other or is brought together, they ring a bell — chants of “More Cowbell” have been heard.

I thought that might make you smile.

A faithful reader…



this morning as i was getting on the metro i grabbed the paper as i always do. and yet again, there was awful, awful news from around the world: 800 die in stampede in baghdad; death toll in new orleans expected in the thousands; russian mothers mourn at child memorial in belsan. about 30 seconds before, i had walked by the site of a car accident in which a taxi drove over the curb, through a fence, into the yard and onto a house porch. what if someone had been sitting there, enjoying the evening, and POW! run over by a cab?!?! i guess it can all go away.

and i was overwhelmed with gratefulness and thanks and a sense of shame that my biggest problems right now are "how will i find the time to pick up my dry cleaning?" and "gosh, i really hope he can come with me to the wedding..." i'm so lucky that what makes me worry and causes my heartache is, in the big scheme of things - even though the anxiety and pain sometimes make my heart race, my hands shake and my stomach turn - really not that big a deal. my family & i are healthy. i have a home. i can afford to buy my dog organic, homemade dog treats. my city is not underwater, i don't expect to be trampled to death, and i am not weeping for the loss of a child.

sometimes i am very good at showing those around me that they are so incredibly important to me and expressing how much i love them. and other times even the thought of putting my hand on his knee causes those shakey hands, the racing heart, the turned stomach. it's so important to let people know how you feel about them. even when it's scary. when i boil it all down, i don't live for my jobs, or shoes, fancy tv, or even my home.

i live for love.

particularly those beautiful moments when i have all my friends around the dinner table. when i can convince g to let me hug her. when b & i can look at each other from across the room and know what the other is thinking. when i catch p kissing leroy. when i see my best friend with her arms wrapped so tightly around the neck of her fiance, eyes closed, knowing that this is as good as gets. when i listen to m talk about the grape. when my oldest friends can tell stories about us from pre-school, and sometimes even before. when my 6-year old God daughter turns to me as we are painting pottery and says, "emmy, i will always remember you...just like this." when my dad emails me and says, "all that matters is that we were all together." when j & i taste a wine together and simultaneously say, "mmmmmm!" when he reads to me in bed, kisses me in his sleep and make sure there's never a moment, all night, when we're not touching.

that's the point. the whole point of it all.