I'll be your baby tonight

It's probably time for a basic life updates sort of post. 

I know, I know, narcissistic, egotistical, not very exciting, blah blah blah. But you know, I figure maybe some of you people who read this blog want to know what's going on in my life.

Not a whole helluva lot. And kind of a lot.

I'm starting school next week. A full 12 unit course load to start working towards that bachelor's and elementary school teaching credential. I figured out that my AP scores still count which knocks out a good 9 units which is pretty swell. Also the last math class I took was at the J.C. so I don't have to take any placement tests. The not swell part was realizing I was still on academic probation from classes I had taken 5 years ago and had to go wait an hour and half for three minutes with a counselor before registering for classes. But I am now registered! Geology, Psych 4 (child development), Art History (gothic to impressionism) and History 21 (race, ethnicity and culture in American history) here I come! Art history is late start so I'm sort of easing into this whole crazy "reentering the academic world" thing. Also, notice the lack of hard science or math. (It's not that I'm not a math/science person, in fact one of my deepest, darkest secrets it's that despite all appearances of being a creative liberal arts sort of person, I like logic a lot and am actually good at math. I just have an abhorrence towards math homework.) Hopefully it'll be a pretty easy semester that just involves writing a lot of essays. I can handle essay writing like no other... except for maybe people that do it professionally.

Theoretically I live in a room in my grandparents' barn. It was my grandfather's office, now it has my futon and a lot of boxes in it. And my clothes being stored on bookshelves 'cause I had a huge closet in Berkeley and don't have large dressers anymore. And my cat. I got Moxie Crimefighter, the small black one that there aren't really any pictures of because she's afraid of everything and used to be feral. My other cat, He-Man lives in my grandparents' house and tries to bring me mice and gofers most nights when I'm home. I'm trying to encourage Moxie to follow his example 'cause she's a country kitty now but mostly she hides under my bed and won't leave the room. Sometime after the 15th I should be moving into a little studio/granny unit on the back of the property and I'll actually get to unpack all my stuff that has now spent a month in boxes. You have no idea how exciting it will be not to be living out of boxes and my car.

Why my car?

'Cause realistically I spend most of my time at the boy's house and though I have a lot of toiletries there, for some reason I draw the line at leaving clothes/doing laundry there- my own rules, not his. I don't have to walk outside to a different house to use the bathroom/kitchen/get a glass of water in the middle of the night so that's a major plus. Also I can go laze by the pool in the morning. And I can cook and make the boy eat real food and help clean ('cause his actual housemate sure doesn't) and generally make his life less stressful. Which is good 'cause he works something like 60 hours a week at a group home for boys that were in juvenile hall and are also mostly in recovery. To say his work is pretty fucking stressful is probably an understatement. I though spending as much time together as we have been would cause us to drive each other insane but it's pretty much been the opposite. We've been getting along great. He's been adorable and loving and sweet. He smiles at me when we wake up in the morning and eagerly devours whatever I have waiting for him when he comes home after midnight (yeah, I have food waiting for him. Have I ever mentioned my secret calling to be a 1950s housewife?), generally seems happier and, most importantly in my mind, drinks a lot less. He demands lasagna constantly. Apparently it was a mistake to prove to him how awesome my lasagna making skills are if I planned on ever eating anything again. (Just don't tell him I use whole wheat pasta and sneak things like zucchini into the sauce to try to make it vaguely healthy). I spend so much time there that spending two night in a row in my own room prompted each of my family members to ask me if everything is ok. It turns out I still like space, and he still likes space and I'm not really prepared to feel like I'm living with someone even if it seems to be going pretty damn awesomely.

When I asked him if I could come over tonight (which I generally do if I haven't been there for a few days) he just looked at me like I was crazy for asking, smiled and said "of course". And it was happy making.

Of course me being me and this relationship being what it has been, I keep waiting for something to go wrong but maybe, this time, with each other to provide some stability, we're actually on track.