Allison Unfiltered

Meet Sarah

Spent the weekend with Sarah and her hubby. 

She's the epitome of a Cajun Belle, with a little bit of California and New York thrown in.  Homey, cuddly, lovely, she'll search out the sunshine in your heart and slap it on your face.  And then giggle.  A lot of people see her as part of the dynamic duo she and her hubby make, and that's okay, because they ARE awesome.  But you know what?  She's pretty fucking awesome all on her own.

In the course of one weekend, she was a goddess in all her incarnations -- bumming around town in jeans and sneaks, tottering through some smoky bar on a pair of towering stilettos, just returned from her government job wearing very fashionable and yet functional wedges. 

She taught me a lot this weekend about life, love, and learning to live with yourself.  Well, actually, she didn't so much teach me as she dragged me through her town and her life and her own heart, showing me.

And for that, I will be eternally grateful...  and oh, yeah, she's hot.

For the people who watch/wash the tracks of my tears...

Okay, so if you haven't figured it out from the last several weeks' worth of lame-ass posts, I'm not exactly having the best month in the history of my life.  Neither is anyone else around me, and unfortunately, that's because of a situation I helped create.

But at some point it'll all be over and I'll be older and wiser and I'll look back on these days and shake my head at my own idiocy, just like I've looked back on every other year.  The thing that makes these days different than those other times?

Amazing people.

You know who you are.  And most of you read this blog, so just know this: I love you.

I don't care whether you're jet-setting around the country and ignoring my pages.  It's good to ignore me once in a while.  Makes me figure out how to take care of my own crap. 

Nor do I care if you're going through your own shit.  Makes me remember that the world doesn't revolve around my drama.

Or if you're 5 or 500 miles away and wishing I wasn't doing what I'm doing.  Or if you're somebody that wasn't really my friend until a week or so ago.  Or if you've known me since I was wetting my pants.  Or if you're somebody who takes me out on the town and tells me you're gonna pimp me out.  Or if you just sit there and listen to me with a face that says you're clearly glad you're not me.

I don't really give a shit.  What counts is that I know you're there, going on about your daily lives, giving me five minutes -- or hours -- of your time, and every time we get up to leave and go back to our own grindstones, you smile and give me a hug, turn your back on me, and walk out that door with utter confidence that things are gonna be just fine.

They are gonna be just fine.  And I'm glad I have you to tell me so.

The Pepperoni Princesses

in honor of a very special birthday, featuring girly-girly pink subtitles:

Gotta be careful not to let it go to my head...

NYAH NYAH NYAH -- My buddy Ocean over at the Deaf Pagan Crossroads just gave me this:

Aw.  Waitamin.  There's rules?  Crap, I don't like this anymore.  Especially since Ocean's own blog made me add even more feeds to my overflowing reader, and because I'm not sure how to take a compliment that makes you work for it.

Ah, heck with it.  I'm too narcissistic.  Look everybody: I GOT AN AWARD!

Here are some others I think are especially worthy, in no particular order:

1. Deaf Characters in Adolescent Literature, by Sharon Pajka-West.  I'm kinda bitter 'cause there's no way I can keep up with this woman's reading pace.  But, gah-lly... am I grateful.
2. We Cue!, started by Barb Ballard, but with numerous contributors.  Awesome compilation of different cuers' experiences and views.
3. EcoDeaf, moderated by the lovely Raychelle Harris.  Absolutely indispensable, and its inherent deaf-friendliness? A Godsend.
4. Fake Plastic Fish, by Beth Terry.  I'm still in awe of this woman, who posts her entire plastic consumption each week.  It's usually the size of my foot.  And weighs even less.  Wow.  Almost as amazing as her penchant for a certain kind of fudge.
5. blackcore, by awesome photog Tim Kettering.  Eye candy, totally.  Plus he happens to do some pretty cool things.  Or maybe it just seems that way 'cause of his photos?
6. found in blank, by Adam Stone.  How to categorize this one?  I don't know.  Bilingual snark plus deaf identity politics plus cool graphics plus info... Whatever.  Adam Stone for President, 2012.
7. Proud Geek.  Other than the TypePad info blog I subscribe to, this is the only slightly technoblog on my roll.  But I love it.  Plus every once in a while, there's really useful info about deaf tech... or Starbucks.  Both equally important.
8. Husband Clothes, by the snarkette aka Holly.  The best thing about this blog?  For once the husband being poked fun at isn't mine. We both married amazing people... who are also deeply human and fun to joke about.
9. Editrix, by Dammit Icantfindhername.  Home of the most perfect tagline ever: "A blog for editors, editors at heart, and anyone else who thinks grammar is hot."
10. Stuff Deaf People Like, by Bobby et al.  Self-explanatory.  Yes.  Definitely.

If I've named your blog above, here are the rules... and if you ignore them, well, hey, that's your karma, not mine.  The compliment stands.

1. The winner can put the logo on their blog
2. Link the person you received the award from
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4. Put links of those blogs on yours
5. Leave a message on the blogs nominated

Meet Nathan

This is my sister's boyfriend. 

The one that attends UMass to study the gibberish they call Economics.  The one that plays rugby three seasons of the year (and blew out both of his knees doing it).  Or is it two?  I dunno.  After all that talk about supply and demand and feeding variables into computer programs, my brain goes fuzzy. 

The one that learns to cue just for the heck of it, and actually manages to look good doing it.

The one that eats burgers without a bun.  Not because he's on Atkins, but because without burgers, he can fit more meat into his belly.  Yeaaaah, dude.

Now that I'm writing all these things, I wonder why my sister is with him.  He is the anti-Lara.  Maybe that's why. 

Or maybe it's because he's the kind of guy who'll happily sit poolside with her doing nothing.  Or watch a chick flick with her when she's sick.  Or go for a walk just because it's a beautiful day. 

Because he makes her feed herself when she forgets.  Because he makes her do things for herself when she's playing martyr and waiting hand and foot on everyone else.  Because when he's around, a calm giddiness comes over my baby sister and I can't imagine him not being there behind her.

Which is a good thing, since neither he nor my sister are of legal drinking age yet, but my stepdad has already been introducing him as his son-in-law.  *ahem*  Contrast that, if you will, to the parental reaction to my engagement seven years ago.

Picture this: me six months pregnant with CK's baby, living with CK for the better part of two years, ring freshly perched on my ring finger.  Eyes still teary, nose still bloody, heart still fluttering, I page my mom -- "I'm engaged!!!" 

The excruciating wait for a response finally ends a few minutes later: "To who?"

Yes, I'm still bitter.  Deal with it.

But there can be no bitterness with Nathan. 

Not when he responds to my commands to ham it up by putting a flower in his hair and posing for my camera, clueless about my penchant for publishing my personal life for the world to see.

Damn.  What do you know?  I like this guy.