Archive for the ‘General BS’ Category


In which we celebrate and remember and mourn

June 19, 2012


Memorial for Turquoise Taylor Grant
aka Violet White

Sunday, July 29, 5pm
Universalist Unitarian Church of Santa Paula
740 E. Main Street, Santa Paula, CA 93060

A gathering will be held afterward at
Glen Tavern Inn
134 N. Mill Street, Santa Paula, CA 93060

– – – – – – – – – –
Special note to friends:

We are gathering writing/musings/remembrances about Turquoise for a binder that friends and family can peruse at the reception. If you’d like your writing to be included, please send it to Becky by July 20.

If you are able to attend the service and/or gathering in person, please email Ethan so that the organizers can have an idea of the number of attendees. Thanks.


In which we celebrate the fox, and the foxy

June 6, 2012


Hello, Becky here again.

If you’d like to honor Turquoise’s memory with a charitable gift, her family has chosen the Nature Conservancy as a cause that befits her well. In addition to the Conservancy’s worldwide efforts at protecting ecologically important lands and waters, they are also involved in saving none other than the Santa Cruz Island Fox, a small mammal (pictured at the top of this post) that lives on Santa Cruz in the Channel Islands — only about 20 miles from Ventura, the city in which Turquoise lived.

At just four pounds and the size of a small house cat, the Santa Cruz Island Fox has historically been the island’s top predator for thousands of years. However, history changed as introduced species and human disturbances took their toll on the island, driving the native fox population to near extinction.

The Nature Conservancy—together with the National Park Service, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the California Department of Fish and Game—engaged in an intensive, science-based recovery project to save the island fox. In less than a decade, the fox population has made an unprecedented recovery—heralding it as one of the fastest and most successful endangered species recovery programs in U.S. history.

More about the fox and the Conservancy’s efforts >

You can make a Memorial Gift to the Conservancy here, and any amount can be indicated. Her full name was Turquoise Taylor Grant. Under “Person to be notified,” you can provide Turquoise’s brother’s information:

Ethan Upper
596 Poli Street
Ventura CA 93001

From the Conservancy site, you can even send an e-card to Ethan’s email address, which he will forward to the rest of the family. Of course, paper cards and letters are also appreciated.

The family is still working out the details for the memorial service; I will let you know as soon as the date and venue have been set.

Although I hate having to take over her space here, and for the saddest of reasons, I am finding such joy and comfort reading everyone’s comments, visiting blogs, and getting to know more of her electronically-based (but no less important!) friends. I hope that we all are finding solace in each other.

— Becky


In which I am calmer

May 4, 2012

That fruit tart that arrived yesterday was easily the most delicious thing I’ve had in weeks! Wow. I didn’t eat the crust, because anything crackery tastes like bark, but damn, the rest of it was ridiculous.

Anyway, I attribute it with healing powers. I also had some big surprises in the form of my awesome cousins who showed up from Massachusetts and North Carolina to, well, surprise me! I love them so much, and there was much intense laughter and, once my brother arrived, more intense laughter. He just adds spice to the proceedings. I should call him “Mrs Dash.” (yeah, I’m a little worn out at the moment)

Anyway. I will just mention that these moments represent the upside of cancer. The part where friends and family rally around you. I maybe sound spoiled sometimes, but I am genuinely grateful for so much. And that includes every one of you sending love. I am unfairly blessed.

Cancer does suck, but it also reveals every aspect of the human condition.

I’m grateful today that my mother, whom I sometimes think is overly concerned with appearances, encouraged me to get dressed and put on some of the 3,000 pounds of cosmetics I have on my dresser. Superficial, but I felt a lot better with a little mascara.

And, Maven, I have to let you know that a giant pool of laughter erupted when I explained your wardrobe concept of “Denim Circus.” you are ingenious.

So, that’s all for tonight. Let’s all sing “I feel love” by Donna Summer as we drift off to sleep, counting our blessings. Count! Sing! I demand it!!

here’s a picture of my cat napping with me.


In which I count my blessings

May 2, 2012


Isn’t this a horrible picture of me, plotting my escape? It really is, and I post it here as a gesture of bravery and suggestion that, in real life, I am eight times more beautiful than Celine. Dion. And I’m not bragging on myself — I have a certificate of authenticity issued by the … Eh, I got nothin’.

But all this by way of saying that I feel better today. Two days ago, I could not type the word intersection without 32 extra letters, and today, I’m bagging on super-hot celebrity Celine Dion. Progress? I agree.

My mom has been amenable to all my great plans. The key, which I believe all 3 of my beautiful readers suggested, is to keep her busy. Who knew?

Anyway, I used to kind of hate people who said they were “so blessed,” or whatever, because it seemed braggy to me in a “Jesus loves me more than you…” kind of way. But then tonight, I sat down and gave some thought to what I actually have. I won’t run down this list, but it seems that I am in fact blessed in my own right and do not need to plot my escape.

Small example: my favorite restaurant agreed to make my favorite soup tomorrow just on the strength of my aunt asking them. “Oh, soup — big whoop,” you say, snapping your gum, hand on one hip, like you’re some kind of Celine Dion, and you would be right, except that you have not tasted this soup and so you do not know!!!

Anyway, I am still really sick. I’m on a lot of drugs. But I can type again! And despite that, I will continue to blog. You are welcome. And if you take issue with my reasoning, just remember: Drugs.

Here’s a picture of me and my oval-shaped head, to erase the memories of the previous picture I so recklessly posted.


It’s so ovally! Hee hee hee hee!

(See: Drugs.)


In which there’s a break in communication

April 25, 2012

I awoke with this joke in my head:

Q: What do you call half a Soviet news agency?

A: Demitasse.

It is not the kind of joke you can tell nowadays. Not because it’s inappropriate, but because it’s irrelevant. And it wasn’t that funny to begin with.


In which there’s a little

April 23, 2012

Damn! I got out of the hospital like I was shot out of a cannon. It takes a while to “transition” to the outside world.

Thanks for the love in the face of my temper.

I’m now at home, being driven batshit crazy by my mother and her sister. I apparently have to be watched 24 hours a day. This gives them plenty of time to second-guess the nurse and tell humiliating stories about my youth.

I cannot tell you how oppressive being watched 24 hours is. Like, actively watched. It is surreal and horrible. I’m so exhausted that I can’t absorb more information.

Also? My mom’s preferred topic of conversation? The intense toxic pain that comes with grief (hers).

I am so tired.


In which I am annoyed

April 17, 2012

I have been having a couple of of shitty, would not wish on anyone days

This afternoon, over the sound of Martha Stewart, I heard my mom discussing various names in conjunction with mine. I became suspicious. “what’s happening??” I asked, and after a melee of noise, detetermined that a minister was coming by. “What nationality is is he?” I asked, meaning denomination. “Muslim,” my mother answered, which is when I lost my shit. “I have no sense of humor. You can’t be fucking with me!!” Evangelical Baptist is the the real answer. Essentially the opposite of everything I believe.

Supposedly I agreed to this meeting yesterday. My fever was over 103.3 yesterday. I dont think I can be held to anything. I don’t know.

I don’t know what this conversation will will entail, especially if she sits on the the sofa, prissilly overseeing the proceedings.

Fuck this shit.