Kate and Emmy and I looked at each other. We knew right then and there, we had to find them. Our husbands and boyfriends rolled their eyes at us. It was my 21st birthday weekend. Our first trip to Vegas, where all of us were actually legal. Not our first trip mind you, just our first legal trip. We did all the regular things you’d expect on a birthday weekend. Drank 3ft margaritas. Rode roller coasters. Went to clubs. Danced. Danced. Drank. Danced some more. Gambled a bit.

We looked for them everywhere we went. Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, George Clooney. We knew who was going to be in that movie. You don’t live in West Los Angeles and not hear rumors. We never found them. Best memories of my 21st birthday weekend however, are from looking for them. We were convinced we’d find them. It made the weekend more exciting. You never knew what could have happened.

On the cab ride back to the airport, the cabbie says: did you hear about the movie Brad Pitt was filming? Yeah, they finished three days ago. It was pretty exciting. Turns out, they’d left the day we arrived. We spend three days looking for people who’d already left. We laughed our asses off the rest of the way to the airport.

***************************

It was one of those vacations that I didn’t really mind as a kid. My siblings did, but I never minded. Long car days were fun for me. It meant I had a reason to wear headphones, read books and ignore the world. I liked that. It was the way I got along with my dad and step-mom best.

I was twelve that year. We were a day from home, when the car broke down. In Death Valley. In August. It had to of been 112 degrees outside. My dad is a mechanic. Normally he could fix anything. We could tell by the way he was swearing and kicking the car, that he couldn’t fix this.

Like magic, a tow truck driver pulled up. No idea why, but he showed up, just happened to be driving by. We’d only been sitting there for ten minutes. He towed us to his town. Three kids in his front seat, singing They Might Be Giants, Little Birdhouse in Your Soul to him. My parents paid him in beer.

Tonopah, Nevada. That was his town. It’s as exciting, as it sounds. It had one hotel, where we took up residence for nearly a week. Turns out a transmission on an old Suburban has to be ordered. To save time, my dad had it ordered to his shop in LA and had my aunt drive it to us. Yes, this was saving time.

We spent five days there. We roller bladed in the hallways during the day. We swam in the pool in the evenings. We ate three meals a day at the only restaurant. My step-mom didn’t care when we ordered mozzarella sticks for lunch, or pancakes for dinner. The waitress gave us shit for ruining her coffee every single morning. We spent tons of my dads money on video games at the restaurant/casino/game room.

The woman who ran the hotel, took pity on my parents and brought us her VCR and her grand-kids videos, as well as a ton of bored games to play.

In truth, that was the best vacation we’d had with them, in years.

************************

We were playing in the garage when we found it. One of those old Pepsi tins, stuffed full of money. Folded up fives and tens. Rolled up ones. Crumpled twenties. The thing was completely full.

What do we do, my brother asked me? We show grandpa. It’s his garage, it has to be his money. Maybe he lost it. We went in the house and made him come outside with us. He was a gruff old man. He loved us, you could tell, but he was tired of kids being around by then. We were interrupting his nap time. He was about 85 years old and we were his great-grandchildren. I was probably only seven years old, which would have made my brother barely five.

His eyes got all big when he saw the money. Oh now, what do we have here, he asked? We told him how we’d been playing and the ball had bounced too high and well we climbed up to get it and found this tin.

Did I ever tell you about the pirates? The pirates, oh those pirates. You could see the twinkle in his eye, as he told us this story. I bet this was their money once upon a time. Pirates Grandpa, I asked? In Texas, really? Well why do you suppose this town is called Wichita Falls? Because of the falls at Lucy Park, I said? Oh no, that is just what’s left. Once, there was a great ocean here. The falls were huge. Like that place up north, those Niagara falls. Yeah, like that. That was back when I was a boy, back when pirates roamed freely. You had to be careful around them, because some weren’t all that nice. See this scar here? He lifted up his shirt sleeve. This was from a fight with a pirate. Dirty rotten scoundrel. Thought his chips should be free. I wasn’t scared of that one eyed man. Anyhow, somehow when they left, they just took the ocean with them. It’s been all hot here ever since. Bet this money was theirs, he said. Well it’s ours now.

Truth was, he only used cash. He always had mom and pop type shops. Potato chips, pies, Christmas trees, handyman…he’s done it all and sold it all. They’d have a little shop and when it got to where he and Grandma couldn’t run it themselves, they’d sell it off. He didn’t like to have employees. Too much work, he’d say. He dealt only in cash. He’d forgotten about that tin, I’m sure. He used to have them all over the house and some probably buried in the backyard. Until my uncle made him take it all to the bank.

That day, he gave us each ten dollars as a finders fee.

We weren’t around him much after that and he died about two years later. This memory is my defining memory of him. Pirates in North Texas. Snort.

You can see past memories HERE, if you’d like.

This weekend was nice. Weird but nice. I’ll tell you all something funny. This was the first holiday weekend spent without my kids, that I was okay with. Now, I realize Labor Day isn’t much of a holiday. But hey, I’ve gotta start somewhere right? It was their dad’s weekend, as well as his birthday, so he took them camping.

I’m not a fan of camping. I mean to say, I despise it. Ha. I found a major plus of divorce. No more camping. Ever.

I managed to do some clothes shopping for me. My mommy sent me a gift card, so literally the only money I spent all day, was two cupcakes, because a new cupcake place opened up. SCORE!!!! It was strange and a bit wrong to try on sweaters and jeans when it was 97 degrees outside, but I did it anyway. Got some cool stuff actually.

I cleaned out my closet and the girls closets and dressers. I have seven trash bags full of clothes to donate. I bagged up two bags of Harrison’s clothes to pass on to a cousin. Plus another bag of baby toys. The kid turns two later this month. He doesn’t need rattles laying around anymore.

I managed to clean most of my house. It feels nice. Lighter. Cleaner. Something.

There is a huge fire in Boulder which is say 40 miles away from my house. It’s huge and out of control and the air quality is just bad right now. I’m having trouble and Bailey has already had to have one nebulizer treatment so far today. Fun times. I just hope they manage to get it under control soon. So many houses and trees have burned, it’s just sad.

That’s about all I know. How was your weekend?

I am from the pacific ocean, from palm trees and the belief of non-stop sun.  From Sunday morning farmer’s markets and the land of the tan. From Slurpee’s and Double Doubles. From nights spent at Lakers and Dodger games and summer days at Water World.

I am from Converse all-stars, from flip-flops worn all year and roller blades on the boardwalk. From sand castle building contests and the constant smell of sunblock. I am from the sand wedgie and the rain walks at the park.

I am from summers spent with Grandparents in Texas and crabbing with Dad before dawn; from museum visits on Saturdays with Mom and dinner and movie dates with Grandpa each week.

I am from the opinionated stubborn people, who only remember you exist when you are standing in front of them and people who’d do a thing for you as long as you ask.

From, never play in the aqueducts and stories about the one guy they knew who tried to surf down them. From, every child should know how to swim and surf. From street smarts and please just go out and play already. From bright orange colored water guns and days spent pretending to be a mermaid in the pool.

I am from a lapsed baptist and an atheist Jew. From the religion of bonfires on the beach on Saturday night and brunch out on Sunday. Lox and bagels and chips and guacamole. From Christmas trees, Latkas and chocolate Gelt.

I am from divorce. From arguments over holidays and school events, from don’t forget my blankie at that house and whose rules am I following again? From wishing people would just get along already, to wishing I could just join the circus. I’m from a childhood spend at fields and rinks for sports I didn’t play. From piano recitals where I wished I could disappear and reading books on family road trips. From day long arguments over peach Jolly Ranchers and sitting on the side of the road in Death Valley with a busted transmission.

I’m from California beaches and Texas heat and long ago and a world away, from Poland. I am from sushi, fresh crab and fresh fruit all year. From fried chicken,  mashed potatoes and biscuits. From Grandma’s fresh apple cake and mom’s oatmeal cookies.

From the wine cork collection at my uncles house, the year dad set fire to the bushes and the year mom designed clothes for the Disney channel tween show.

I am from a photo on my nightstand of a beautiful woman, the woman they named me after. From the smiling people in my hallway, gone but never forgotten. From farmers around for three hundred years in Texas and a one little old Jew who escaped with his life.

This, is where I’m from.

For an hour, I read Mom 101’s archives. From 2006. I had a blog in 2006. I saw my name on some of the comments in her posts. It was kind of funny actually.

This is what I miss about the fast pace of blogging these days. The feeling like you could just sit and get to know someone from their archives. Everything is so fast these days. It didn’t always used to be like that. Before Twitter and Facebook and readers.

Yes, I read Liz’s blog back then. It was fun to read some of it again though. A few posts I remembered, most I didn’t. It’s been too long.

Today I read that one of my favorite bloggers, Jen at The Trephine is going to take down her archives. Thankfully she gave fair warning, so I can have the chance to read them today before they are gone for good. Today? I will read her archives again. Because she’s a great writer. Because her posts for the last 10 months have helped me, more than I could begin to tell her. Because she’s one of the funniest writers I know. I will read her blog today, while working, when I’d normally be on Twitter or looking at my own reader.

My reader is always full. That will never change. People are always on Twitter. I love that about Twitter. Someone is always there. Facebook statuses get updated faster than I can blink. There’s nothing wrong with it. Most of the time, I love it.

But yesterday, for an hour, it was nice to remember the old blogging world. To sit. To read. To be entertained. Maybe I didn’t get through my reader at all. But hey, it’s not going anywhere.

I’ve thought about this before. I’ve just never been willing to try it. Truth is, in previous years, it wasn’t an issue. You know, pre-getting divorced. Ahem.

To save time and energy, while on vacations, I only use cash. I’ve always done that. Most likely because it gets tiring writing down receipts while on vacation. While in NYC last month, I didn’t use my debit card for anything, except on cab fare on the way back to the airport. I came home with money. If I’d used my card all weekend, I’d of come home to an empty bank account. I know this about myself. If I have cash, I consciously think, is this a need. I actually did that while on vacation in NYC. I saw a purse that I loved. Such a pretty blue purse. Ahem. Yet, I didn’t buy it. Kari probably thought I was nuts. I kept picking it up and putting it down. Ha.

If I can do this on a vacation, I can do this in regular life.

My girls don’t need anymore Silly Bandz, just because they are conveniently located right next to the check out. I don’t need to eat out for lunch each day, when I have perfectly good food right here. I don’t need to go to Target when I’m bored. I can walk the dog instead. My son doesn’t need any more Cars paraphernalia. He has too much of it, as is.

I still live like there are two incomes coming into this house. And there just isn’t.

So yesterday I took the plunge. When my paycheck was deposited, I paid all my bills. I wrote out my checks for my share of daycare/after school care. I then went to the bank and took out cash. Cash for groceries. For Costco. For Target. For the eating out, although I’m attempting to curb that as well. Cash for my therapy. For mine and Bailey’s prescriptions. I will still do certain things. I will still do some fun things with the kids. I got a pedicure last night. This evening, I will go and pay for September dance classes for Morgan. But I’m doing it all with cash.

It’s a bit scary. A bit daunting. I think I can do it though. Any money left over at the end of the month, will go towards paying off credit. My goal? To stop using the dam things.

My great-grandpa only used cash. I remember hearing that my uncle made him get a checking account for all the cash he had hidden in his house, when he was 80 freaking years old. The man paid cash for his home. For his car. If he didn’t have the cash, he just flat out didn’t need it.

I think I’d like that to be my goal. If I don’t have cash for it, I don’t need it. Might take me awhile to get there, but it’s a goal.

The layers of me

layer one
name: Issa
birth date: April 20th, 1980
birthplace: Los Angeles
current location: Colorado
eye color: Blue-grey
hair color: Brown
height: 5’4″
righty or lefty: Right. Although because of a shoulder surgery on my right shoulder years ago, I can do a lot with my left hand.
zodiac sign: I’m on the cusp. Was born right after (like two hours) it changes to Taurus. I say, I’m a Taurus with Aries tendencies. Although, it could probably be said either way, depending on the day.

layer two
your heritage: Half Polish. Half Heinz 57. (My dad’s family escaped from Poland during the Holocaust. My mom’s family has been here since the 1600’s.)
the shoes you wore today: flip flops. Tevas.
your weakness: Coffee, chocolate, bread.
your fears: Ending up the crazy goldfish lady. Being alone. Loosing my kids. Pushing away my best friends, because I’m too much work.
your perfect pizza: Margarita NYC pizza. Dude. Yum.

layer three
your most overused phrase: Take your pick: Seriously. Awesome. Dude.
your first waking thoughts: Go back to sleep son. PLEASE.
your best physical feature: Eyes.
your favorite memory: Holding each of my babies for the first time.

layer four
pepsi or coke: Coke.
mcdonald’s or burger king: McDonald’s. Although we tend to go to Chipotle mostly. Or Panera.
single or group dates: meh
adidas or nike: I don’t care
lipton ice tea or nestea: Black unsweetened ice tea from Starbucks.
cappuccino or coffee: Whatever. Long as it comes from Starbucks.

layer five
smoke: No. Have been an asthmatic since birth.
cuss: Like a sailor, when I’m not with my kids. I have the ability to turn it on and off at will.
sing: In the car and to my kids at night.
do you think you’ve been in love: I believe so. I know I was.
want to go to college: No. I hated school. I went though.
liked high school: No.
want to get married: Again? Am unsure that I believe in it, in this moment.
believe in yourself: Some days. Am a work in progress.
get motion sickness: I get seasick. Like even on rides at Disney. A cruise looks fun, but I doubt I’ll ever really try to go on one.
think you’re attractive: Eh
think you’re a health freak: Hahahhahahaha. No.
get along with your parents: My mom. I get along with my dad…but I only show him a 5th of myself. My step-mother despises me. I rarely see them.
like thunderstorms: Yes. I adore them. As long as I’m not in the middle of one.
play an instrument: No. I used to play piano. From five to say fourteen years old. I want to learn again.

layer six
in the past month…
drank alcohol: No
smoked: no
done a drug: no
made out: No
gone on a date: No
gone to the mall: Yes. Too many times most likely.
eaten an entire box of oreos: In one sitting? Hell no. Have whole boxes been consumed in my house? Yes. Although, we are currently fans of Golden Oreos.
eaten sushi: No, which is sad. I’d like some. Right now.
been on stage: no

been dumped: no

gone skating: no

made homemade cookies: No, unless slice and bake ones count
gone skinny dipping: no
dyed your hair: no. I’m sure I should. But I’m too lazy.
stolen anything: I’ve actually never stolen a thing. Except meme’s. But I doubt that counts.
you sound boring: No, I sound like a parent. (This was Carmen’s answer…I’m gonna say DITTO.)

layer seven
ever…
played a game that required removal of clothing: yes.
if so, was it mixed company: yes.
been trashed or extremely intoxicated: yes
been caught “doing something”: yes
been called a tease: no
gotten beaten up: No.
shoplifted: no
changed who you were to fit in: Yes. Way too many times. Am trying to just be me now. But that can be hard. And lonely.

layer eight
age you hope to be married: meh
numbers and names of children: Morgan (8), Bailey (6), Harrison (Nearly 2)
describe your dream wedding: pass
how do you want to die: At 124 years old. In my sleep.
where do you want to go to college: I do not. I went though.
what do you want to be when you grow up: Heck if I know.
what country would you most like to visit: England.

layer nine
number of drugs taken illegally: none
number of people i could trust with my life: Shrug.
number of cds that i own: Oh sheesh, I don’t know. Way too many. I don’t buy them anymore, but I used to buy tons.
number of piercings: none. My ears actually mostly closed up.
number of tattoos: One.
number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: Twice.
number of scars on my body: Five. Three from shoulder surgery. One where I nearly sliced my finger off one time. One on my toe, from the last time I didn’t wear shoes while on a bike.
number of things in my past that i regret: Too many

My problem is, I blog what is in my head. It’s my process. It’s how I grieve, deal, learn, heal. I’ve always said what I wanted. I’ve always posted what I needed too. This has always been my place, for just me. I’ve been able to say things I wouldn’t because most of my family doesn’t know about this blog. Yet, he does. He knows it’s here.

It’s not even that the things I want to say are bad. It’s just, there comes a point where a line was drawn. The line between him and me. What can be said, what can’t be said. The line seems fuzzy to me in the moment. I’m unsure what to do.

So what does one talk about, when everything you want to say, seems off limits?

End school days. Word filled car.

Alone. Tuesdays. Thursdays. Every other weekend.

Pay day. Tuesday. Seems far off.

Ice cream o’clock. Best time day.

Teleporter. Queen for day. Still waiting.

San Diego. BlogHer11. Seems so far.

New design. Owls. I can’t wait.

One more month. My boy. Two.

October. Bad and good. Divorce. Vacation.

Fall. New TV. Halloween. Long sleeves.

A month too late, I know:

This post is brought to you by Starbucks fueled monkeys. Or Six Word Fridays. Take your pick.

(As an aside, I love how literal six year olds read. The N, was just an N in her mind.)

Nah love, that’s a church, I won’t be going there, I said to her. I waited for the next question, but then she saw a dead raccoon and I got to hear a five minute story about the dead raccoon. Thank god for six year olds with short attention spans.

I’d of been honest with her if she asked. I am just not completely sure I could have made my point in the five minutes it took us to drive the rest of the way to school. I’m not sure I could have even touched the subject matter in five minutes. YAY dead raccoons. Ahem.

I don’t have an issue with free coffee and donuts. I don’t even have a problem with churches. Not in general. I do take issue with a church having women stand outside for a couple hours each morning, waving their hands around, holding signs for free coffee and donuts.

Those coffee and donuts aren’t free. They come with a price. I know what that church is. It’s false advertising, that sign outside. Their regular sign is generally filled with some weird saying that takes me days to figure out each week. Once I finally figure out it’s a sneaky way to call everyone who doesn’t attend evil, I tend to get angry. That church is more a fire and brimstone, you are evil if you don’t believe what we believe, type church. They beileve a woman’s only place is cooking, cleaning and raising children. They have a small school attached to the church, because they believe pubic school is evil. Mark my words. You will never see a man outside that church holding a sign.

I promise you, those donuts come with a price. One I’m not willing to pay.

How do you explain that to a six year old though? How do you explain to an inquisitive six year old, that some people believe their way is the only way? How do I explain religion to her, when I don’t understand it myself?

Every fight, every war, every major argument it seems, somehow goes back to religion. After how ever many thousand years, we still haven’t figure out as a species, to let people believe in the god of their choosing. You’d think we’d of gotten it by now, but we just haven’t. All those articles, blog posts, tweets about the mosque being built near the World Trade Center, all go back to the simple fact that we can’t just allow each other the right to choose. You choose your god, I’ll choose mine…most likely they are all some form of the same. Who knows? Do you know? I surely don’t.

I also know I don’t have the answers for my children. I am the child of a very lapsed baptist and an atheist Jew. I was not raised in religion. Any religion. Were their pieces of the traditions from both in my childhood? Yes. Mostly it was just holiday traditions though.

I don’t know what I believe. Honestly, I don’t. I love that many of you do. I just don’t. I almost wish I could be an atheist. It seems too final for me though. Too easy. Maybe too hard. Like I said, I have no clue what I believe. Makes it hard as a parent to explain things to your kids.

I do know though, that church isn’t giving out free donuts.

I’m not even sure I have anything to say really. I just truly needed that post to move down a bit. I know that’s not a good reason to post. I told myself I’d stop doing that…posting just to post. That was my goal for myself, after BlogHer.

Yet, I can’t leave that post up at the top anymore. It haunts me.  Not the post itself, but the topic. It hurts me. It’s hard to think about, much less write or talk about. It changed who I am. Probably not for the better.

I want to respond to all of you, for your lovely comments, but I just can’t seem to do it. I know it’s not a requirement. I do however wish I had it in me to do so. Just know, I appreciate every single one of you. You have no idea how much. Really.

Moving on.

I have no daycare for Harrison this week. Which has been interesting. You know, I got off easy when he was a baby. He was such a sweet easy little thing. He’s still sweet, don’t get me wrong….there is just nothing easy about him these days. He’s destructive. That could be in all caps actually. My boy is DESTRUCTIVE. He’s like a little Tasmanian devil.

The girls start school tomorrow. Which thrills me. I know, I know, I should be sad…blah, blah, blah. I’m not. I’m ready. I wish they’d gone on Monday. Ha.

And yeah, that’s all I know.