This is a day so far. In case you are not also me and don’t know my dad, he sings in a wild falsetto to himself as often as he remembers to, which is often. This is interrupted if he’s eating (though in the interest of his catalog-model, cycling-enthusiast figure, food is kept to a minimum) or cooing at his cat, Stamp. His songbook largely consists of Steve Perry’s solo oeuvre and John Denver, with a splash of Starship.

We just spent a good chunk of time watching comedy videos on YouBoob. Tim Conway dentist sketch, Bill Cosby dentist sketch, Mr. Bean dentist sketch. I like the first two. We laughed and laughed. At one point after standing and watching the videos, I told my dad I needed to sit down so he reached over to Mary’s (his wife) chair and shoved its extensive contents to the floor. This may make you wonder if we were seated atop a giant, teetering stack of single stones with no nearby surfaces on which to place the belongings of the person you love. In fact we were in a bedroom, with a big bed nearby, plus a desk and dresser. If he had also thrown a vase across the room I could get onboard for the full display of dramatic arts. But instead it seemed paltry and feeble, like a toddler mowing a lawn. I said, “Dad, that’s all Mary’s clean clothes that I folded yesterday.” he said, “Oh, I thought it was just all her usual crap.” Then we watched some dudes parkour-ing around the Eastern bloc and marveled at their crazy muscle bodies.

Now he’s playing mah Jong on the computer and singing a song that I don’t recognize but assume is from a musical as it is condescending to a beautiful and young woman. He has laid aside the falsetto right now in favor of a wobbling vibrato.

I suspect everyone here is dehydrated.

Frozen corn was added to my vegetable intake yesterday, as well as pickles. The day previous I had capers. I don’t know how anyone goes to the bathroom in the second way around here. I can’t believe this house isn’t full of people driving Rascals.

We played Apples to Apples last night. I didn’t win, though I played with enthusiasm. I really enjoy a board/table/card game. I kind of wish we were the kind of jock family who all suited up in sumo wrestler suits and brawled each other in the backyard or something. Or who went and played tennis in the rain. But I do also like the parlor sports way of post-dinner socializing.

Today is my last day in Calistoga and I feel both sad to go and excited to be home in L.A. I want to get on my skateboard and pretend like it is all that matters! Talk to you soon!

This is the what. I flew up (all over myself) to Santa Rosa from LAX last night in a tiny plane. It departed late. A woman called her husband from the runway and detailed every way in which late airplanes are TERRIBLE. She seemed to really know her shit when it came to the vagaries of privilege. I sincerely hope things have gotten better for her but from what I could tell her life was going to lead to a lot of complaint letters and general confusion regarding her requirements of the world and its unresponsiveness. DADDY HELP! I’m drowning in a sea of taffeta and maraschino cherries without a hairnet!

I arrived and my dad picked me up at the Santa Rosa airport. He had his sweatshirt hood up, which I have never seen him do before. We were twins of spirit, no matter which road home we took, or what we forsook.

My dad has a level of anger and anxiety with regard to customer service that I imagine parallels living in a war-torn country. He thinks the streets are run by hoodlums just waiting to make it confusing to park, packaging the one color of socks he wants with two colors he doesn’t, and ignoring him upon his impressive entry into their boutique cell phone store.

So we walk out of the airport and his VW wagon is parked among rental cars because he couldn’t figure out where to park at the Santa Rosa airport. I’m not sure what everyone else there did, but I’m assuming they all have passcodes to the officers’ parking taj mahal.

I took my dad to his house then drove to St. Helena where I am staying at a bargain motel. I didn’t realize St. Helena had such a thing. I thought bargains were run out of town with Presbyterians. I checked in with a guy who apparently was laid off from a local comic book store owing to his dry humor/flat affect. Or maybe he used to be in the band Yes. It was deeply unclear to me.

I saw people across from the office sitting in a hot tub. It was 11 at night. I love sitting in hot tubs and water in general but I felt disgusted with them, not sure why. It might have been my step-brother and his wife. But I was scared to find out. If it was them I would have felt better and joined them (in spirit–forgot my bikini).

I got to my room and entered to find a tall, monster four-poster bed. I had to start at the door and run at the bed to get up on it. Once I achieved that gay act, I opened a fruit punch gatorade, the giant bag of Ruffles my step-mom gave me and proceeded to watch a show on PBS about the indigenous people of Scandinavia (the Sami), to whom it would appear I am related. Pale skin, Asiatic eyes and voluminous deerskin jackets, living off the land. They showed a Sami man coming across two female deer who died of starvation together in the snow because they were fighting and their antlers got tangled together and they couldn’t get them apart. I’m not immune to metaphor. Though I don’t prefer it.

I woke up this morning feeling like billions of dollars. My skin was REALLY clear. I don’t know why. The lighting at the sink of my motel room is glorious. Nothing like the 15-year-old eco-bulb I bought at Ikea illuminating my mirror at home. It keeps my ego in check though. I can’t just prance around like my rack of antlers is the prettiest of all.

I drove to my dad’s and we went Christmas shopping. No fact of life escaped his critical laser gaze. Everything was poorly designed and uninterested in seducing his expendable dollar. Energetically he is like a chihuahua full of hummingbirds duct taped to a Tilt-a-Whirl. I started staying in the car while he stopped in different places just to get my heart rate back down to a healthy level. To challenge myself I had him stop so I could get coffee. We called my mom on the way and were still talking when we got to coffee. My dad joked, “Oh no, your mom and I have to entertain each other?” Because they are very good friends. I said, “Well you already got divorced, where else could things go?” Then ran inside and purchased my second soy latte of the day (I know, disgusting), bringing my spending total to $12. What a deal!

We drove back to Calistoga. We saw a guy on the side of the road selling fresh honey. My dad said, “Want some fresh honey?” I said, “Yeah!” He said, “I don’t.” and kept driving. I said, “Fresh honey is actually good.” My dad changed the subject.

Now I’m at the house. My niece and nephew are in the living room spazzing out. My dad is watching last night’s Packer game. I’m really looking forward to some wine and gluten-free foodstuffs. My nephew is also gf so there is always a boon of food I can eat. It’s pretty deluxe. I shall continue to report from the front lines/filthy carpet.

Good Morning and Good Choices!

Visiting Wisconsinite Anina Bacon sits on the couch before me, swaddled in about a billion blankets because it’s in the fifties and for the last century or so no one planned on the weather dipping below 80 degrees when they built these houses. Okay!

Anina made the choice with regard to some of her time off from school to come here and see what my wonderful life is like. We also further mined the realities of adult friendships and living with cats.

Tara: Anina! You are here! How would you describe your visit?

Anina: Sublime. It’s a lot colder than I had anticipated. I thought when i got off the plane, it would turn into 75 degrees and sunny and it didn’t. But I’ve gotten what I wanted: good conversation, good food, I took over East L.A., and we have even more yet to see.

T: Life is never what you think it’s going to be.

A: I also got a lot of kitty loving.

T: I have that in ABONDANZA ITALIAN FOOD CHAIN OLIVE GARDEN!! How soon after your arrival did we have a conversation about our class origins?

A: God it was in the car on the way home from the airport! It was, wasn’t it? Oh. We have been shaped by our pasts.

T: Can you provide a summary of this conversation?

A: NO.

T: Why?

A: It’s been constant and it would take way too long. Our Scandinavian past. Survivor guilt. Shame about doing well. Wanting approval, getting over it. Wanting to be liked, getting over it.

T: Think about it a second. Can you summarize in one sentence our class differences? You’re not going to hurt my feelings.

A: We both come from working class backgrounds. Your family has been successful, my family has struggled. Along with my struggle has come a resentment for people who do well. I have realized that I deserve to do well, and have money, and I’m learning not to resent other people. There is nothing wrong with me doing well.

T: I think being aware of your resentment, I chose to play down what privileges I’ve had, and that is just not honest or noble. I worried you would have a righteous rage at my money or beautiful hair or whatever and that I would have no defense and then not be able to justify my lifestyle without having to admit that my joy is eaten off the backs of the less fortunate. I think I am offering a radical definition of capitalism or something. Are we struggling with capitalism?? I don’t think that describes the HEART of this.

A: I don’t think we’re struggling with capitalism. However, I am going to shave your head in the middle of the night. I appreciate what you said, and I don’t feel this way about you, but I will always have a great dislike for those with over-developed senses of self-entitlement. People who are born into wealth and don’t understand those of us who work so hard to climb out of where we’re at. I do think it’s natural to feel this way. I don’t think that resentment should shape or is the final word on another person’s humanity or capability for being a good human and friend.

I remember a moment when I thought, “Wow, we are really different.” We were downstairs at Jenna’s house. Drinking champagne or something silly like that. One of her stereo speakers upstairs blew out. She was worried about replacing it. And you said, “Don’t you think it’s your parents’ responsibility to replace it for you?” I remember this very vividly. I knew if one of my speakers blew out, I would be responsible for earning the money and buying it myself. I just knew we came from very different places.

T: That makes me sound so wonderful and surely then I sped off in my Barbie Corvette. Did I spit on everyone in the room?

A: That certainly doesn’t define you as a human being. And we were not shaped humans, we were teenagers. But it does show differences in our upbringing.

T: It does. And it shows how boldly I chose to hold adult parents responsible for their children’s material pleasure. I mean, overall, it’s modest and does have Wisconsin flair for its privilege. Like you know that Tori Spelling would scoff at what we’re calling my personal privilege. Goddammit when will I stop living in that woman’s shadow?

Remember when we went to Barney’s at the Grove and I asked you to check your class issues at the door?

A: I do.

T: Did you love Barney’s?

A: I wanted to love it so much. I think what we saw was a tiny sampling of what they have to offer. There were some nice purses and I like their jewelry. I thought a lot of the clothes were not attractive and I think you bought the prettiest item there (a Helmut Lang sweater). I don’t have any class issues when it comes to clothing. I have no problem spending good money on something I know will last a long time, or something that I will wear over and over again. I would wear the shit out of that sweater.

T: But remember you balked at spending over a hundred dollars on jeans at Nordstrom’s (NOW do we sound like The Shahs of Sunset?)?

A: That is not the cheapest pair of jeans that I own. It’s hard for me to spend that money on clothes because it’s paid for with student loans. Making purchases that are not necessities, and new jeans are not a necessity, is just something that I feel cannot take priority right now.

T: Spoken like a true Scandinavian. We also got lipstick! Who wants to play with my boobs!

A: I do I do I do! I will say that red lipstick and finding that good shade is closer to a necessity than a good pair of jeans.

T: We are wonderful women. Remember the fake snow storm at the Grove?

A: Oh that was a love supreme. I thought it was so sweet and magical and I loved watching people’s reactions and I also thought, “Oh that’s so disgusting, what chemicals are falling on our face?” It was probably just soap or glycerin, but it was still unnatural and weird. Seeing the kids excited was awesome. Part of me wanted to stomp on their little dreams and tell them the snow would give them cancer, but I did not. Take that, innocence! I know that I have not been here that long, but it does seem to go perfectly with the suspension of disbelief you have to have to live in Los Angeles. Speaking of class. When you’re around the super-rich.

T: We’re all just leaving our bodies left and right. What are you going to do when you get home?

A: Get back to work. By that I mean write my thesis (Anina is in Physician’s Assistant school), I need to set up my last rotation, hopefully in Seattle. I want to frickin’ enjoy Christmas with my parents.

T: What day are you going to Olive Garden?

A: On Friday. I’m going to celebrate my mom’s retirement because she deserves it. And my step-dad’s birthday. My parents are a love supreme as well.

T: Wait one last thing. Remember when you commandeered my laptop and brought up a billion disgusting videos of things coming out of people’s skin?

A: That was at your request, sister. I’m not responsible for your…tiny little stomach. Or your lack of willpower and unwillingness to give in to the delight of grossness.

T: I live with so much regret every day. Videos I’ve watched, mean people I’ve tolerated, sports I didn’t learn earlier.

A: Are we geniuses?

T: In a certain sense of the word. Any summarizing statement or final thought?

A: Hmmm. I feel like my summarizing thought is nothing of genius. I think that we don’t really have that much of a choice of where we come from but our path is ours to make and we get to choose happiness. We’re responsible for our lives now. There’s no reason it can’t be brilliant. While this is no new crazy train of thinking, it’s harder to achieve than talk about. So easy to let things unfold in front of us rather than make them happen. OH! That’s that co-dependent thing! We’ll talk about that next time.

T: Our next installment: co-dependence! Check back every day!

Thanks for reading this thing. We’re going to drive to Venice now.

Is weather in a Mars and Venus relationship with a person’s hormones? Do the two rule my mental school like so many Type A teenagers with BMW’s? Wait were those the people who really ruled me…? It has been raining for a few days in Los Angeles. It bestows the blues upon a woman to be banished from her board by those woeful angels shedding tears from the sky. After just two days I am dying to ride a skateboard within the bowls of my local skateboarding parks.

I woke up and saw a photo Los Angeles local shredder Froggy had posted showing the Belvedere skatepark was closed owing to graffiti. Dummies. It’s never a skater who does that because you know your park will be closed by the very powerful and enthusiastically punishing city.

It was finally not raining for half a minute so I wanted to skate. I told Froggy’s friend Kevin I would pick him up in East L.A. to hit Channel Street. I didn’t think much of going 40 minutes out of my way to get him (AGAIN, what am I, wonderful?). Something just kills me about people dying to skate and not having access. A weird one-woman non-profit I’m running in my brain. Regardez: The Helpful White Lady strikes again, helming a VW Golf.

We rolled up to Channel. I immediately saw Lisa Whitaker (Meow Skateboards, Girls Skate Network) filming Lizzie Armanto in the first bowl. The bowls were just drying out, after being bailed out by a few people at the park. It turned out one of those people was a foul dude I met at the (completely useless) Torrance park. I really like most people I meet at skateparks (who are not on bikes) (or scooters) (townie time). But this guy is blunder thunder from down under. In a park full of doodz with no helmets he honed in on me, the only femalia, and started relentlessly harassing me about how I needed to wear a helmet. A few other guys I never met who were skating with me told him I was fine. I told him I was fine. He proceeded to enumerate his past injuries in gross detail, a known offense whilst engaging in a risky activity. Have I said all this before or am I sprinting through the Dreamtime?

Kevin, my new friend who traveled with me, immediately spotted Robbie Russo. He was stoked. Then Ronnie Sandoval and Oscar Navarro and Riley Stevens. The shred was on, but it kind of always is at Channel. I moved amongst the bowls and Kevin did his thing. I fell weirdly super hard in the last bowl a couple times. I swear it was the curse of that shitty dude. I would never otherwise say that but I just think he is a bundle of terrible and he seems to follow me from bowl to bowl (just like the CIA does). It felt like someone affixed a suitcase handle to my side, picked me up and shook me like a dirty bath rug. I swear I have a femur in my shoulder now. My neck feels like it’s made from tumbled Lincoln Logs. But true to the eternal rad of Channel, everyone tapped their boards when I fell. I just love that place.

Lizzie Armanto’s mom is learning to skate in her 50’s. Just started. Is that the best thing you ever heard? She looked like a total genius in chartreuse drawstring pants, kneepads and a purple t-shirt. The crowd was entirely patient and stoked when she crawled into the bowl and grabbed a line.

Before leaving I stood in the parking lot and talked to Lisa Whitaker for a bit. I saw a girl with a pitbull puppy on a rope disappear through a hole in the chain link fence under the highway, behind the last bowl. She looked like she was in her late twenties, kinda tall for a gal, white, corduroy skirt over pants sitch. I had seen her drinking Mickey big mouths since we arrived at noon. She emerged about five minutes later with what looked like a three-foot-long (also called a “yard”) black carnival barker mustache. She sat on a bench/ledge and patiently futzed with it for something like fifteen minutes (really hitting it out of the park with MEASUREMENTS today). She finally sorted things out, and slipped her arms into this giant mustache, which was actually big black insect wings a la a child’s Halloween costume. She walked over with her wings on and asked if we wanted to pet her puppy. She was just blowing through town with her dude. The puppy’s name was Indy (duh).

We stayed a few hours, then drove back to L.A. This time I took Kevin to the Gold line because I was running late to join my friend for the Clippers game.

We watched the Clippers vs. the Kings. I love basketball.

We got dressed for dancing at The Catch.

We went to the Catch. The music is always so good. Booming hip hop and a big screen covered in what looks like a Tetris graphic. We danced (I’ll remind you that my policy on dancing is to always give 100 percent on the dance floor. Full athletic engagement) and watched the young queers shake it. I mean, I absolutely didn’t see anyone older than me. Which is fine. But it also meant when I was sitting down and a young go-go dancer walked over to me and wrapped her arms around my legs and said, “I’m a skinny bitch, but you’ve got some meat on you. I want some of this.” all I could do was giggle and not engage. It just didn’t feel right!! How could I get all erotic with a girl in her early twenties in turquoise lame shorts whose girlfriend was upstairs? Then I am the 40-year-old honky lady fighting a young lover! Why would it be a fight? Don’t be dumb! It would! So I kept my integrity and lipstick and just enjoyed her and her friend with the braces, green blazer and engagement ring. Beautiful, beautiful gay people.

So this is life.

You all know I usually spend my weekends in a swirling nest of fast cars, hot women and cocaine. Well, this was a holiday weekend, so I did things a little differently. Today I drove my white economy car out to Norco for a gal’s skateboarding bowl jam. I almost skipped it. I had a lot of reasons to avoid this event, including: there would be no one with whom I could fall in love (BESIDES MYSELF, but I had already done that upon waking up and seeing my hand laid delicately on the sheets), it was an hour drive, I’m out of gluten-free beer, and the bowl is made of skatelite. Only one of those is true with regard to my hesitation. So I realized I was letting skatelite get in the way of meeting new skateboarding women and men. So I drove out.

First I listened to Gillian Welch in the car. Then I realized I wasn’t meeting friends at a hot springs to cry all day so I switched to Light Asylum. I effectively was pumping myself up, booming tunes like a city buffoon into the sky of an agrarian locale called NORCO, which is also the name of a painkiller akin to vicodin. Good information; you’re welcome. I rolled into town and saw many people riding horses. I also saw vintage cars. I also saw a lot of homes that looked like they were the model home that enticed buyers into the area. Being enticed by a model home seems like getting into art because you saw a rad Monet poster. But carry on, I salute you, available minds of California.

I parked in front of a home that was vaguely Spanish style but not really. I saw green tarps strung up in the backyard so I knew I found the right place, as I had seen photos of the tarps protecting the bowl from the sun.

I walked up and met a guy with long, honey blonde hair and bangs named Kevin. In his 30’s, I suspect. I walked into the house, whose front room was sparsely populated with a poofy sectional couch, cuckoo clock and low round table covered in a variety of chip bags, a jar of liquid cheese and a jar of salsa. It rips me up not to be able to eat liquid cheese owing to my dairy allergy. DAIRY ALLERGY. DAIRY ALLERGY. DAIRY ALLERGY. I stepped out into the back and saw a giant garbage can full of crushed aluminum beer cans. I walked up some wood stairs and there was the bowl. Elbow shape, two cradles, metal coping and pool coping. Some people might have taken a picture but I was living my life and having anxiety about how slippery the surface would be. I feel like I hurt myself worse on skatelite than concrete. A bunch of guys were cleaning out the bowl exceptionally diligently. I felt grateful. There were young skater girls dying to get into the bowl. I was the oldest woman skating, and I think the oldest skater, period. This is neither here nor there, it is just a fact like how my couch is a little dirty (I’m going to vacuum it tomorrow).

We skated. There was a well-known skater girl, probably about fifteen years old, and she was not cheering on other people or stoking anyone out with verbal encouragement or joy. At first I thought BUMMER. Then I thought, if that was a dude, I would not be AS disappointed, though I would still be like COME ON. I realized again what a sexist race car driver I am. I then felt glad she didn’t feel like she needed to be on a PR campaign to be loved by all via Price is Right spokesmodel efforts. Then I thought about the fact that she is something like fifteen (I think) and that all kids that age are sociopaths and then I was just glad I didn’t get emotionally scarred by her. JOURNEYS.

I looked over and my friend was on the ground, sitting on the tail of her board and acting like she was riding a bronco (ostensibly it was bucking). I didn’t understand how this came about, and was thankful for the random moment.

After a couple hours a bunch of us left to skate Chino. Oh Chino. I really do like that park. I especially enjoy the pool in back with the pool coping. I had a lot of fun there, though I did catch a glimpse of my shadow at one point and was disturbed by my flapping arms. When will my style be awesome? When will I stop resembling an oil rig whilst rousting about the bowl?

I did not yell at a single child today. This is especially notable when you consider the boon of scooters at the Chino park.

For the rest of my life I will use the word “boon” and it will make me laugh because it is a reference to a Carole Murphy line:

“The fruit compote was of particular note owing to the boon of cherries.”

I still think that is one of the funniest lines Beth and I have ever written.

I just hosted a small party to watch Liz and Dick. Now I sit with a bag of conventional baby carrots, a bag of lentil chips and a glass of champagne, writing to you. My kitten is across the room with his big belly rolled to the ceiling. I hope all is well in your world.

Good Day. Did you know that a person gets older every day? They do. Owing to the progression of my personal days, I am now 40 years old. Nice!!

Following is a compendium of all the knowledge I’ve gained in my 40 years, broken into categories.

CLOTHING

1. I am passionate about my one pair of enormous sweatpants. I could share them with a 55-year-old longshoreman who eats only donuts and carnitas and he OR SHE would find them quite roomy.
2. I would rather spend $300 on one incredible shirt than have fifteen okay shirts at a fraction of the price.

SPORTS

1. I salute all punks who perform the act of sports.
2. Skateboarding is for sure one of the best things to happen to me ever of my life bar none. Awesome friends, family, writing, snorkeling and cats are the only other things who are ranked this high.
3. Swimming is great.

BEING FOR AND AGAINST THINGS

1. It’s healthy.

AGING

1. The hell?
2. My skin is performing acts of sagging and wrinkling and it bums me out more than I ever ever thought it would. As a result, I am highly susceptible to those selling face creams and services.
3. The constantly increasing peace I acquire over the years (which I try to cut with a handsome rage streak) is worth every wrinkle. I have no desire to re-visit my younger years.
4. There are lots of vibrant humans with marriages, kids, and homes. It is no one’s fate to be boring or to mimic a 50’s ideal of suburbia. That only lead to shitty marriages and Alzheimers (canned food) anyway.

CHILDREN

1. In general I am a huge fan of kids. They tend to want to have fun and throw their bodies around more than most adults. That said, no one is a genius for having one. They are just a parent and a person. I am lucky to have people like Beth and Victor and Yong-Ki around me being awesome parents and the most fun humans possible AT THE SAME TIME!!! Up with people!
2. I am afraid I will never want my Mommy so badly as if I ever have a kid.
3. I feel like underfunded public schools and hyper-vigilant parenting will be the demise of the American work force.

LOVE

1. Oh god I love love!!
2. You cannot make another person happy. They have to want to be happy and be able to make themselves happy already.
3. The person you love should always have your back.
4. That thing about the quality you fall for being the thing that later frustrates you most seems to have some truth to it. Although I did fall for someone because they were a skater and adventurer and those things, I assure you, were not why our relationship didn’t work.
5. I will never give up on love but I will stop actively looking for it. It just never seems to bring RESULTS. Does love find everyone in the end? No. Even if you have cats? Well, then your odds increase dramatically. Dogs? Love is guaranteed. But you sacrifice the dramatic indifference cats so wholeheartedly deliver.

Am I starting to sound like an email my mom would forward from her iPad where her name is misspelled in her header?

Who cares. Only ten people read this thing anyway.

TERRIBLE THINGS I STAY AWAY FROM

1. People who are mean or rude to my face.
2. Dark streets at night
3a. Random drunks
3b. Known drunks
4. Drugs beyond the booze and doobie dome
5. Alcohol when I’m sad
6. Non-cotton undies (unless they’re lace/ventilated)
7. Chemical deodorants
8. Futons

FOOD

1. Eat when you’re hungry if possible
2. Food should not be bedfellows with bad feelings.
3. Eat healthy shit plus french fries and gluten-free baked goods sometimes. Eat an unthinkable amount of popcorn.
4. Don’t bother being mad when juices and smoothies are expensive otherwise you will be mad always.
5. Vietnamese spring rolls are some of the best food ever. Vietnamese food in general is righteous.

Is there anything else I should mention?

SUMMARY

Skateboarding: YES
Jerks: NO