I seriously have been meaning to post. Honestly. Promise. And it isn’t like little funny/interesting/exciting things happen everyday. Although right now I can’t think of any…still can’t…time to move on.

Things have been a little tense over here at Rancho Rogue. Kiki randomly decided to move out of the house one afternoon. Okay, so not so randomly, but I’m not at liberty to post the gory details online. So she packed up most of her clothes and all of her hair supplies and makeup, and maybe some other things and moved on in with one of her friends. They’re all still massively grieving over the death of their friend which happened the first day of August. And that’s all well and good, but imho they aren’t doing it in a healthy manner. Building matching shrines in their respective rooms and trying to save up money to buy the girl’s house just so they can go over there for the rest of their lives and make it a shrine and talk about her. I was a psych major for a full 2 years, and that my friends, doesn’t fit in with any grief pattern I heard of. I’m sure some wacko psych person will disagree with me on here but this is a place for my opinion! Get off! *ahem*

So yeah, she moved out, making our little abode very very quiet. I’m usually alone most of the day. RJ has school now, and is in the “popular” crowd, although she won’t admit it because it would damage her image as a free-thinker. She dresses in things mostly from AE and VV (that’s Value Village), and while I had some crazy ensembles in my day, at least I didn’t employ the use of lacy purple tights covered by pink and turqoise striped socks and 80’s tweed dress shoes. For those of you who have met/seen/viewed pictures of RJ, she cut off all of her hair. It’s now fluffy and poofy and from the back it looks like grown-out bedhead. With Kiki gone, RJ has assumed ownership of Kiki’s former room. This adds to the list of rooms designated for RJ when she’s home. The computer “area” (obviously for homework, who cares if she mostly uses it for aim and myspace), her bedroom (which smells like the hoardes of unwashed soccer socks which by now have formed their own wild “lord of the flies” tribe under her bed), Kiki’s room (with its california king mattress and full vanity set up RJ can employ without feeling like a pretty girl b/c technically it’s not hers), the front living room (a quiet place to do homework, or talk on her new cell phone), and the bathroom (now newly carpeted in her clothes and dirty towels). I’m sure once I get married my bedroom will be added to the list as a place for her to practice her rock/emo/alternative music with her new band.

Kiki’s departure also makes it an even 50% of the children in this house gone. Right now, negotiations are in progress to move her to Georgia, cell-phone and car-less. If things go as planned she might move as early as October or as late as January. Look out, Georgia. My bro is living with my grandmother still, although he has lost his job and is being barred from searching from any job out of town by her. She put us all through a rather lengthy lecture on how none of us should visit Portland because of those scary Shanghai tunnels (THEY MAKE YOU INTO SEX SLAVES IN CHINA, YOU KNOW! FOR SEX! WITH CHINESE!) She gets more eccentric everyday. Not to mention she freaks my bro out by praying every morning, out loud, that she’ll die. Yeah, that’d freak me out as well. Later this afternoon, I have to present her with a bill for services she asked for at Kinko’s and I’m afraid. She’ll go through the roof when seeing it’s over $100.My mother has taken this assertion of maturity as a personal insult. Come to think of it, most things we do that are non-traditional my mother takes as an insult against her mothering skills. She’s completely convinced she’s a bad parent, which she isn’t. She’s just successfully raised three of her four children to be independent and take care of themselves and now she’s not sure if she did the right thing by that. She worries about Kiki and Cole constantly, trying to call them daily and is frustrated and hurt when they don’t answer their phones because they’re working. My father is taking all this in stoic stride, finding his solace in his fairly new $3000 epson printer at la galleria and the 2 new books he’s working on which give him permission and cause to photograph wineries and vineyards all over the state. There are so many frickin’ vineyards and wineries here it’s insane. Fart, and another one will pop up. (no, please don’t fart, especially if you’re reading this in a public place).

*deep breath* My mother tells me not to blog about work and tells me a plethora of stories she hears about those losing their jobs from blogging about work. Which, you know, I think is a load of crap. Not my mom telling me, but getting fired for blogging about work. If you keep it on the DL who you work for, you should get to rant all you want. Free speech does have it’s advantages outside political cartoons and uninformed editorials.

That’s it. I’m taking the weekend off and going to Cannon Beach and Seattle. And I’m gonna like it.

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