Hey there Little Red Riding Hood

Ahwooooooooooo!!!

(Happy & her little boyfriend as a Very Scary Big Bad Wolf. He really wuz scarey. We had to hide the costume deeeep into the craftroom closet until it was time to put it on. It Creeeped me out.)

I mean: BaAaaa-aaaaaaa!

Happy's Pooofy skirt Provided By the psychic connection/gift i have @thrift stores & Nana's wizadry w/her sewing machine and some

curtains. We Totally forgot the foofy Frilly white apron! It got made outta last years Spanish Pirate laced shirt. It is spectacularly Girly and So pretty. I'll get her to put on the whole ensemble for a Happy Tuesday. I like to dress her up like she's a doll.

And she is! Plus she had a kick-ass Halloween.

We all did.Changapeluda masqueraded as:

Mommy Kitty/Hippyified Daycare Worker.

(okay so i just had time for a regular outfit and

i threw on whiskers & some cat ears of Happy's from years ago.)

WE GOT LOTSA CANDY! 2 seperate neighborhoods, as Happy skipped off up town w/her polite young Wolf. Me & Fireman Pop-pops hit the streets around here.

Down in the ghetto,

Where we got the special treatment from our closest neighbors: gourmet popcorn and hot chocolate (everyone else got suckers like you get at the bank)... We got: Pop-corn balls we can trust. Bubbles, the good kinda little baby chocolate hershey bars - 3 musketeers - snickers - milky way - the first to go. Mmmm hmmm. Nana. We got smarties and Pop-rocks (woo hoo) skittles galore, tiny skeletons and plastic snakes & spider rings.. I love trick or treating. Except i shoula left Zoe my Deeeety Dog.... i shoulda left her ass @ home. She tried to go Into people's houses and eat their small dogs. She was feelin Frisky & Her wanted her Own Trick or treatz.

DewBug Daycare's First Annual Halloween Soiree

Okay so the lil horsey was scared shitless of the skeleton decorations,

the Big Bird costume itched like a mother you know whatter (at the time of this photo poor Danielle was in the house dealing with a costume

melt-down), the bouncey house put toooo many limbs in very close contact with The Chomper, and Naptime was a no-go for some....I'd say it was a modest success. The hors-deurves were delish and the guests were (other than a few time-outs) Delightful.

1-2-3-4 Firetruck! Fireman Pop-pops to the rescue!!

We got on the bus 12 hours earlier and the bus driver had a plastic punkin fulla suckers! From that moment on - Pop-pops PARTy-Ed down! Trick or Treated, smelled his feet-ed Halloween

Bashery. Then, he KONked.

Happy Halloween, Heartful!

I call heeem Vladimeeer (in a really bad transylvanian accent)

it was craft-time (also CRAZY time) at Dbug Daycare...Pop-pops on my lap in full (weeeee! aaahhhk)reach of glue, feathers, gooooogly eyes, pooofy colorful balls, and other wonderful stuff. Danielle had two crafty little spillers on her lap and We Learned not to pour all the supplies out at once. Feathered mayhem. With it's eyes plucked out.
My own little creative crafter and I produced a little red nosed, funky fuzzy, inspired by you, dear Heartful -

black & turquoise feathered bat. Hah! Now he flies above our head on the way into our room. He's fully employed as a gatekeeper and dangling Welcome to the Jungle!

When DewBUG DayCare almost gets 86'ed from the Arroyo Grande Library

It was about 10 minutes into the kiddies half hour of StoryTime, all the little children were being quiet as church mice, doing the little hand gestures for bunny foo foo or whatever. Well! here comes Little Lulu (she's in the back left there), we whispered to her to sit quietly so she starts rolling Around on the ground. Getting into the Librarian's bag of books. The librarian shushed and shooed her very firmly. Danielle can't let go of our Resident Chomper (back carseat on your right)because he might Bite one of the kids that aren't ours. NickleBaby (Front left carseat) was the only "good" kid. Listening and pantomiming appropriately. Pop-pops (Front right carseat) took off as fast as he could into the non-kidddy area, trying to dodge me in the aisles of books. All the other mothers were giving us exasperated looks, or worse, looks of pity....So we stayed until the very end. Trying our best. From now on, though we will be having our own story-time back at Dewbug Daycare (Danielle's house).

Good Lord! Will ya check out the Teeth on Chomper back there. Just recently, I found out that our Nibble Happy little guy got Kicked Out of a prior pre-school. For Biting!

He really likes to bite. He's bitten Everyone at DewBug Daycare and we can't get him to stop! We all must taste pretty good.

Trying to be all Surreptitious

And Take unblurry pictures of some man on the bus who i think looks like Jesus - if only Jesus had gotten to age a little and sat in the front of the bus....I think Jesus is the kinda dude that would sit in the back. As to let little old ladies and people with disabilities have the front seats.

he also brings to mind my own personal, Jesus. The one that needs a facelift. Anywayze, Happy & Holy Sunday! Hope it's a good one.

I been thinkin'

Colorful thoughts in sepia....

But with my mind on my money and my money on my mind... how to make more of it. What can i sell?

What service can i offer? Lickety Split Cleaning service lost the Phillip's Showroom account. Dewbug Daycare is only part-time. Remodeling is at a standstill.

I've been thinking, i need to lose weight. And that I want to kiss someone. And either dread my hair or cut six inches off and put in some blue streaks. Vivid blue. I've been thinking about my dad a lot and how I wish he could come back from the dead, bring my brother Albert and we could build a kick-ass gazebo in the backyard for my mom.

these are just my thoughts:

I thought I heard a truck backing up....in the extra lot on the east side of

the house. The junky one filled with broken beat up rusty old scaffolding & trucks and a Van filled with mugrero. And a fantasticly ginormous Black Walnut tree. It's where Lickety Split Wood Service is currently located. So that got me thinking, "Nobody has pulled up, backwards, in my side yard in a very long time." I've been thinking about Lickety Split Dating Service.

I've been thinking about my G. And how much it hurts that I have to live my life without him in it everyday and that he doesn't come home from school any more and sing, "Lucy! I'm home." I think about him being hungry for sopita and beans and tortillas. I think about him playing the trumpet. I think about going to San Francisco and busking. I think about all the soldiers that need to come home.



I think about Cyberlove and what a Crazy crazy thing I got going on inside my little fantasy electonica romantical ventures. I think about Suziblu she
be that wonderful woman i am so in love with these days. A whole lotta people love her. She's FINE Artsy Fartsy personified. I think I want to invite her to come and stay with me and my family...in a Tipi. And we could make a mini-farm outta that side lot and grow sunflowers and yerba buena and we could get that cow that she wants and she could teach art from The Farm. I think that's one of the best ideas i've had in a Loooong time. She thought up the farm part but I came up with the Tipi. I Think (in a very unUsual way) - that I'm kinda pretty but I'm Crazy.

Post #2

I met a girl who sang the blues and I asked her for some happy news but the man there said the music wouldn't play.....

This is the jacked up Chevy I drove to the levy but the levy was dry. Them good ole boys were drinkin whisky and rye. Singin' this'll be the day that I die. Oh Boy howdy this song has been Stuck in my head All day. Doesn't our sad old ride look like something out of Jurassic Park, the Ghetto Version? This is what happens when the 17 yr old foot is too big and the gas pedal gets mistaken for the brake pedal and it was such a minor stupid accident that left us without a car for a while. But things have since gotten better. And worse. I miss G.!!! The music really did die. He took his trumpet, (duh) he took the Yamaha Portasound, he took his little tuner thingamabob....so the other day when i needed to tune the dang guitar (it was cryin' time again and Buck Owens was lookin down on me from heaven) There was Nothing to tune it with as the piano hasn't been tuned in 20plus YEARS....We were way out of tune, people. We still are. I bought my mom a car...a '96 Chevy Cavalier. My friend's Dad knows a guy who owns an impound yard....I got a deal. The deal of the century. Sorta. Not.As it needs $800 worth of work done to it. It's very rumbly. But it gets Happy to school in the rain which is all I'm worried about. And only when it rains. Me& Pop-pops, we Prefer The Bus.

Post #4

It was then that some of my aunts knew FOR SURE that I was nuts. At least the hoity toity ones. Because we lived in a Tipi. While I gutted the house because the roof leaked then the ceiling caved in. This was pre-Pop-pops when Changapeluda, G., Happy and Zoe the best German Shepherd in all of Nipomo (and even Germany ) spent our days and nights in the backyard, living in an 18ft diameter Tipi. My friend from Missouri who taught Living History (she would Winter in a Tipi she built all by herself), came out to Cali, Tipi in tow (it cost $311)and gave me the low down(priceless). She taught us about the door facing East because the Indians always rose to face the rising sun. Such grooviness. The rope wrapped around the poles that formed the structure 4 times (for the four directions of the wind) we wrapped marbles into the bottom of the "skin" and tied a small rope to tie off and stake down the outside....the logic being if you made a hole and ran the rope throught the skin(which was really just tarp), it would weaken it and cause it to tear.

My kids and I absolutely, positively Loved learning all about Tipis. Then getting to live and sleep in it's round magic circular closeness....We were snug as a bug in a rug. Nana was staying with her sister, Big Josie. We barbequed All the time. For months we lived like this. Thank Tortilla Mary that the kitchen & bathroom in the back part of the house didn't leak. It took me 3 months to get the smaller living room space (now the dining room) and One bedroom, drywalled, textured, painted, carpeted and ready to live in. Which Nana and my two kids did. Zoe Pearl and I stayed in the Tipi until I got further along. During this time my aunts would come to visit and disapprove. They seemed to time their appearances when things were at their most disarrayed....especially my two children. And kids are Really funny that way. They can sense when someone is looking down their nose at them, so my kids acted accordingly. Like Wild little Animals. During one of those pain in the ass visits, Happy had a spider on a stick and scared one of my aunts straight into her car to drive away all upset. She called from her car phone (remember those?), Outraged, asking me how we could live like that. Like what?

We were fine. I think we were more than fine. I'd do it again if I had to. Even if I Didn't have to, I'd do it again. It was such a cool experience.

And I'd like to have as many of those As Possible, please.

We interupt this Odd number of postings to bring you: A little Homecoming Dance

Happy had a terrific time @ Nipomo High School's homecoming festivities. She helped paint the junior float, caveman themed(her dad drew a big T-Rex and they collaborated on the whole thing together).

She had a new friend named Danni over and I got roped into the curl ironing of the hair. This was the first time I've ever curled rainbow colored hair. After the dance there were hooligan movies, pizza, and konking out on the couch in the middle of it all. Not Pop-pops though, he wouldn't go to sleep cuz he didn't want to miss anything. I kinda don't blame him. That Happy, she's a fun girl.

Post #3

He is THRIVING

my boy wonder, is growing up by leaps and bounds. San Francisco State University is getting the chance to know my G. He (kinda by accident) got a solo in his third chair Trumpet-ness. He was in a group that re-worked the first scene in King Lear and got comp tickets to see the production in a very (fifty bux a ticket!)Foofy Theatre. He has two jobs! One is an internship with a group called LYRIC. Advocacy once again, calls to him. The other is with California Overnight, where he'll be on foot, Downtown, delivering stuff. Since he grocery shops with his own money, he has started putting a dollar amount on every forkful of food he puts in his mouth. That's some crazy waste not want not action. And last but not least: G. found out even if someone is beautiful & writes you poetry: don't mean everything is going to be all Lovey Dovey and/or Easy Peasy.

Post #1

Here's a story I wrote about my Favourite Brother, Albert.

When I was sixteen (and he was 21) we went to see a movie called RumbleFish. It was playing at the old Santa Maria Theater w/the red velvet curtains & the narrow stage jutting out the bottom of the screen (where back in the day they used to perform vaudeville shows between the talking pictures). The movie Albert and I went to see that day starred Matt Dillon and Diane Lane in gorgeous Black & White, except certain things were deep red, like Diane Lane's lips or the undulating beta fish. We had gotten loaded on the way there....schmoked a doobie in his classic, stock 1968 White Mustang. When we arrived, the lush carpeted lobby was gold countered, a trippy & buttery smorgasbord. Albert bought his little sister (me!) candy and popcorn but most importantly, he bought me a fountain soda: I had cotton mouth pretty bad. It seemed like the theater was extra dark...or we were extra stoned and that soda felt and tasted Sooooo good. It was a coke. I felt it fizz and bubble on my tongue. I whispered to him a lot in the movies. And he whispered back. That day we got shushed when I asked him if his soda bubbled..."My what?"

"did your soda bubble?"

"... what?

"SSsshhh!"

"What's a soda bubble?!?"

huh. He took a gulp and the soda fizzed so loud that we busted out
laughing, like our lives depended on it. We were always laughing like that. When we got back to the house in Nipomo, I made him a salami sandwich. Toasted w/sharp cheddar cheese, just a little hint of mustard with the mayonnaise. When he finished his, I offered him the other half of mine. Prolonging our visit as best as i could because I really didn't want him to leave. We said our goodbyes on the porch . I made him promise to call me, come and get me, take me somewhere, Soon. He waved as he reversed then waved again before he put it in drive and drove away. That was the last time I ever saw him.

it was a single car accident two days after we went to the movies. his mustang was demolished. He was coming from a friend's house in the early morning hours when they think, because no drugs or alcohol were involved, that he fell asleep. he crashed into a tree on his way home to Orcutt, 15 minutes south of Nipomo. The police officers knocked on our door at 7 or 8am to tell my mom. I was wearing a pink flannel nightgown that she grabbed ahold of and wouldn't let go. She went into hysterics then collapsed so i called her doctor and told him that my brother had been killed and that i needed him to perscribe her some strong sedatives. Apparently I called my sister and told her to get on a plane. That Albert was dead. She said later that I just said those two things and hung up. what a fucked up phone call that musta been.

It wouldn't have been so horrifically devestating but

Albert and I were inseparable ever since I could remember. When we were little, he used to make up songs about how beautiful he thought I was and sing them in talent shows we had on the side of the house. He was into Theatre in High School, as was I. He was a Gemini as am I. We both Loved the Thrift Store and movies. He was cool. Very funny. A smart dresser with a distinctive sense of style. He was the love of my life. And he was Gone. What a fucking bummer.

Only the Good Die Young, for real. He comes to me in my dreams. One dream I remember vividly was shortly after he died: We were in an airport, laughing our asses off! We were literally (in the dream, anyway) rolling on the floor, Laughing.

I miss him more than words can convey.

Chankla aloft. here we are @ Lopez Lake, with our older brother Nat. I love this picture because it shows how close we were. I put it where I can see it, everyday.

The End

I'm gonna write 'em all. The whole enchilada.

But first i wanted to tell you Happy had a very nice Homecoming Dance. G. got a very good job with California Overnite as a messenger boy for above minimum wage. I bought my mom a car. And I made a video of myself and actually SENT the mother f'er to this chick i fell in love with even tho' I still haven't turned into a lesbian and Pop-pops doesn't like the new 2yr old chick at Dewbug Daycare. He doesn't DISlike her, it's just that he's not over Alyssa, I don't think....So that's a quickie update. I'm spending the Whole Day in my pajamas and am planning on blogg blog bloggin' because that's just the kinda monkey I am.

Post #1

I've gone so far as to Fret. What should I make Post Numero Uno
ABOUT. Just what is this all About, anyway? Does it all even Exist?
You know what Edie Brickell said?
Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box. Religion: the smile on a dog.

So I kinda narrowed it down to 6 subjects.

1. I've been yearning to write a post about my brother, Albert.
2. The day the Music died (and how i drove my chevy to the levy)
3. G. Thriving.
4. Hoity Toity Aunts
5. Medusa
And last but soytenly not least:
Lucky number six would be: Lickety Split Dating Service.
Oooh La la!













................................................................................post-up art by babydaddy

Post #2

The second most important thing to my mother - After her offspring...is her family name: Gaxiola. It's a Basque/Spanish language type of dealio. Along with it comes an inordinate amount of pride. Her mom, My Nana Josephine, came here to Nipomo as a child. A Yaqui Indian (a whole tribe w/17! brothers and sisters) hailing from Arizona when it was just a territory. So my Nana hooked up with my Grandfather, Eugene Stanley Gaxiola the first...there are 3 E.S. Gaxiolas now, only the other two go by Tito & Stan. My grandfather or Tata or Daddy (as we All came to call him) came from Spain by way of San Francisco then Guadalupe... Gene & Josephine met and married in 1937. They had 10 Gaxiola children, the first Generation Californians. And we've been here , in this very house, ever since. I could hear how stoked that first born Gaxiola was, telling someone, "Oh Yes, I live in the same house where I was raised...." My mother remembers helping her grandfather spread Sage out on tarps to dry. The funky family business so to speak. They would bundle and sell it on the roadside, making enough money to buy more property. Which was probably like fifty cents an acre or something crazy like that....

A lot of the property still remains the same as open fields. Only it's squared off and mowed down of course. Across the street from our house is a field and across the field is the Nipomo Men's Club.

this is my dream truck....by the by.

only not white - shimmering

turquoise with a flame job

a nice roomy compartment for

every tool all-organized w/a king

cab and a lumber rack. I'm drooling, sorry.

Meanwhile back at the men's club...I was there practicing my horse shoe throwing. My mom came along to look after Pop-pops. Also because she likes to be right by us even though we see her All The Time. They're both a little too attached, if you know what I mean. But that's a whole other post for a whole other time. They Bug! Together, the two of them are like Crazy-making. Her because she's constantly getting after him - very Loudly - for every little thing. And him because he likes to get into every little thing, paying no attention to the constant...oh never mind. We apparently wouldn't have it any other way. I love my mother so much. She's one of those strong, highly nurturing, queen bee, goddesses that rule with an iron fist, feisty, bossy, take care of Business types. Without her: Our lives would suck.

But back to the post at hand: As they played [nicely]on the playground equipment...my almost 70 year old mother marveled that it was the same equipment that had been there when she was a little girl. That's some well made and sturdy stuff, huh? Kinda like my mom.

and her offspring.

Post #3

Did I mention I was in a horseshoe tournament? Some really good friends of the family throw down a pretty big chingadero...there are usually around 28 teams (of two)mostly cholos and the token white dude. And me. There are trophies t-shirts and cash prizes for the winners. The after party is Loaded fun, people bring their RV's and tents, thus eliminating the possible drunk driving and there's sure to be dancing around a bonfire. But during the day, it's all about the game.

I started hanging around the horseshoe pits so much because I was putting in an Aztec Inspired arch in the house where the tournaments are held. Everyday after work we'd drink beer and throw shoes. My dad taught me a long time ago..."Nice and easy, mija." For that reason alone, I love playing. Unfortunately, this time - my homies were coming up to me asking me what the hell was wrong with my partner - this big huge seemingly retarded guy who couldn't throw a shoe to save his life. I had braided my hair and the guys on the sidelines kept warning me, "Get Back, India." It was up to me to make all the points for 2 games until we got Eliminated. Which I did and got teased for my "game face." And I Still had fun. How could I not? Sunny day, lotsa beer, oldies playing from a lowrider's stereo....Plus, I didn't have to pay the $25 dollar entrance fee because I got commissioned and made an arched planter with actual rusty old horseshoes affixed to the front. To be raffled off after the games. I only wish I coulda stayed in it longer. Oh well, next time....

This is the guy that won...

he was "in the zone", throwing ringer upon ringer. His partner Lucked Out. I'm gonna see if I can't rig it next year and somehow pick his number (to match mine)when we draw for teams. It was A Beautiful Day. One that made me all glad to be alive. For real. I dig stuff like this.

Post #4

Dear Tortilla Mary

Blessed be those that

eat beans.

Oh Heavenly Mother:

Life has been a series of tests

these last few months.

My heart is full of Gratitude

and I want to

Thank you for the Jobbie Job @ California Overnight in SF &

letting G's drug test come up

Negative

(even though he went to Peace in the Park and felt really WEIRD after he ate that cookie)

Thank you for letting my FBI background check

come up clean and for not letting anyone show up to

arrest me.

Thank you for

giving my mom the strength to

walk to the bustop & La Chiquita

because we don't

have a car.

Thanks for DewBug Daycare.

Thank you for giving me the

strength and speed to chase and catch

Pop-pops when he runs out in the

street after he wriggles away from

me and veers headlong into oncoming

traffic.

Thank you For Happy.

Thank you for G.

Thanks for my littlest bus rider & Zoe who

meets us down the street when we get off

the bus.

Thanks for all the love out there in

Cyberspace that I keep finding...

And just

THANKS FOR THE WHOLE THING.

Your humble and loving servant,

Changapeluda

Post #5

Okay, what stupid idiot thought it was a good idea to remove the fucking phone?!? There's a pathetically symbolic "booth" but the payphone sadly & inexplicably is Gone. WTF?!?

This was a very UN-happy Tuesday in August....when she came home in tears - Completely upset, i'd say pretty Freaked out. Some dumb fucker bitch in a white lifted truck with quads (all terrain four wheelers) - filled with Assholes drove by Happy on her way home from high school. Yelling their fool heads off, they threw something at her that "kinda exploded". She thought maybe it was an orange. I thought maybe it was too, in my highly sensitized mindset I caught a whiff of citrus as she was standing there almost hyperventilating. Poor little girl, she was Shaking so I hugged/comforted her as best as I could, her eyes were humongous, filled with tears. She flung those tears right off her cheek when she twirled & asked if I saw any orange on her back....I was relieved to Not find any rotten fruit but determined to find out what the fuck it was they threw. So I loaded Pop-pops up in the strollie. With the trusty dog Zoe Pearl by my side, we set out like CSI Nipomo. I went and investigated the scene of the crime.

It was eggs. Those fuckers. Poor Hapless Happy trying to get home with her new class schedule: fucked with like that. What if those pieces of shit were driving around doing that to other people? We needed to report that. Which I'm doing right now to all of yous, but on a local level, we had to turn to the Po-po.

The Poh lice. Yeah, well they didn't give a shit. Didn't even call us back and we left our names and number. So Happy took justice and precautions into her own hands. We had to walk up to Von's to get something for dinner. She was hungry for some Vengeance.... If that truck full of slug vomit was to pass our way again - check out that chunk of blacktop she's got in her right hand. After Happy had simmered down, I explained to her that her cell phone that takes pictures was the smarter weapon.

Post #6

The cocoon, pre-papier mache w/a very important ingredient. And Since six is my favourite number, (i was almost an "omen" with my 6/6/68 birthday -i have no idea why i think that's so cool) I wanted post number six to have heart. It's very imortant [to me] to never lose that.

Post #7

I don't need much cause for celebration. Take the wrong bus? Woooo Hooo! All roads lead to the beach.

Oh hey guys! Nice...boards. Mmmmm hmmm. I celebrate the hubba hubba

I celebrate big strides.

I celebrate the hardcore Dork in me (as evidenced by the sandals WITH the socks).

I celebrate the clingage.

So this is how I figure it: Temporary is Not so fleeting if you Party Hearty/Savor the Fuck out of it.