To Notice more Trickles Before They Grow into Streams

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Oh......Fuuuuuuuddddggggeeeeeee

Amongst other planetary wingdings today, this one could have been worse for Humanling.

She hit her elbow on a chair as I sit here and work from home on the laptop. And then I heard, what I hoped was my own improv in my head. "F***in Chair!"

The Eff Dash Dash DASH word.

All I can say is that epilepsy saved her tiny butt from a bar of soap in the mouth.

Damn cat. I just KNOW she is the source of this.

I'd love to hear how Other parents have handled this or how your parents handled this with you!

Fisher Price Drinking Game

I don't know about anyone else, but I can safely say that the Humanling can sail through her day with merely a sip of water. In fact, her smile would probably be even brighter if she had none. She likes juice and her almond milk but when it comes to water, she's frugal...you know, doing her part to conserve it on the planet by never drinking it.



I can be just as bad, but then activated in my head is the little Caring Nag voice reminding me that any of my perceived problems are most likely due to the fact that I'm barely drinking water. Even my credit score - lack of water. So I do my best. Well, not really but I'm conscious that carrying around my water bottle doesn't exactly mean that I am on the step of fulfilling the action.


In a quest to get my Ling's blood circulating on a level higher than Sludge, I made up a game. The Polar Express was on twice in a row. I told her that whenever the words "North Pole" were said, we had to swig.


This worked fabulously. After a while though, I knew she'd had enough. I handed her green bottle to her after catching the *North Pole* phrase. She looked down at me (she was on the computer at this point and I was sitting on the floor reading) and said "I disqualify myself from the game."



My calm, strange Capricorn. No yelling, no saying "I QUIT"...just as if she's making a bed with sleepy eyes....decides to tranquilify and disqualify.

But hey, it did work. Next we'll have to do it with High School Musical and the word 'Bolton'.

Small Deals in the CT Hood

{An angry man's raised voice} "I want my money. You could have come to Stacy's house. You know where she lives. Where's my money?"

"I got money coming to me in a couple of days. I got it coming this weekend"

"That's gonna fuck my body all up. I don't have a couple of days. I need it now"
{Door closes}

********

I love living here. Quaint, affordable and all one needs to do is put their ear up to the door for the newfound inspiration to double lock the door.

Astrological Weather

Fuhgeddaboudit!
Mars Square Pluto
Dec 21, 2008 to Dec 23, 2008

You're all sneers, bad attitude and streetwise skills. You're in no mood to take any attitude from anyone, let alone some punks who think they know it all. In this mood, it might be best to avoid company.

******

Perhaps if I had seen this little detailed Scorpio horoscope for myself (Virgo Moon, Libra rise, FYI) earlier, I would have avoided phone company as well.

Humanling's dad, Cavey, called. The whole thing was super annoying and I won't go into all the details. If anyone wants an idea of how it runs sometimes, check out Dead Beat Dads in the labels section on the page.

I try very hard to walk in some very good footsteps...and today couldn't be more of a hypocrite if I had sent out a Christmas card of myself flipping the bird in front of a Victorian tree. I looked at people in passing cars and thought, My brother, My sister, we are all here at the same time experiencing this earth at this time, all these changes, all the changes to come. And then I get home and resort to being hung up on when I finally unleashed the "Listen, Mother Beeper" dragon.

Ah well. Ok, its really more of a snake, that whole temper of mine. It's been fed a sperm whale now and should be quiet for awhile.

However, I'm pissed at myself for allowing such an indulgence. For allowing whatever Cavey had to say, to affect me in a way where I would drop the whole John Lennon vibe and go Steven Segal instead. Dirty dirty dirty.

To top it off, Cavey somehow always has a little information that he shouldn't be privvy to. He would let me know today that I have a talking wart developing on my heel in about three weeks. I went to the only person who might be part of an inside job - the Humanling herself.

She swears she didn't give any goods.

Well if that's the case then Cavey is an awfully prophetic alcoholic. Or...perhaps he IS an alcoholic because he knows something the rest of us don't.

So as Humanling, the proverbial protractor carrying Capricorn, said to me tonight, "It's over. The whole thing about me telling daddy is over." And with that, I saw her path of tracks as she had already forged ahead. Subject done. Get over it obsessive Scorpio, and make the damn gluten free cookies for Santa. And can I lick the spoon?

Le Male

Who minds a little men's cologne commercial?



Just sayin'.

Sorta by The Hair of my Chinny Chin Chin

Humanling is out tonight on a date with a fellow goat.

My ex who has given me a lifeline this Christmas time, is a Capricorn. As is my little Manager. They are a day apart in fact. The two of them could ruin a good party with all their knowledge of centimeters, financial spreadsheets and Lists of Rules.

But I like being around both of them. Most of the time.

The Goat and I dated years ago when Cougars started to become as famous as the outing of Bigger Butts. There's a decade difference between us but he has always seemed like the older one. Or he used to. Now Humanling does. I'm the goofy irregular compared to those two. They would file me under their category Unamused, I'm sure.

We broke up, yada yada...but still had to work together. So through the march of the dumping of Here's Your Stuff on top of his desk, the two of us dating other people, my marriage's beginning and ending (he warned me - but who would listen to an ex at a time like that?) and a bunch of non productive meetings, we're still talking, hanging out at times. And I'm still being exposed as a klutzy and sometimes hasty snarf. If I'm going to trip over my own feet, his eyes catch it. If I'm going to spill coffee while walking, he points it out to me. I point out to him that the pattern and color of our office carpeting was meant for exactly this purpose.

He's the one I rebelled against the hardest. Because he had a plan, because he always thought his way was the most efficient, because he said so. I would walk off cliffs when he'd argue with me that the opposite direction was clearly the most sensible just to show him that I'm older and that I somehow survived thirty something years without him. I may have paid for many of those decisions but I made my point. You can't tame me with your lists. You can't harness my ways by showing me my perceived mistakes and your Intro to Your Better Way of Doing It Next Time Starting Now. And when you do have me tied up and ready, it's only because I LET you.

Yet he likes being around me.

We both sense a challenge.

Why did we break up years ago? Because of a million small reasons that morphed into the reason that I told him - he's ten years younger than me. If he wanted children, he'd have to act immediately or forever hold his peace (at that time). I couldn't risk being with someone to have them eventually decide that they wanted a family and have them leave me in a broken hearted situation.....just like the one that I was left in anyway....by a guy with a bigger age difference than the Goat.

Only the Goat is way more reliable. Which is why when he asked to take out Humanling for an hour or so tonight, I had to say yes. A decent male who I know won't say or do anything weird to my precious blog of protoplasm, and who will not only show up, but show up on time. Humanling is very anal about time. If you dare to give her any resembling an exact plan, like a time, date or plan, she expects delivery. Then you receive one of two hells - her countdown to the event OR the meltdown when someone like Cavey doesn't deliver.

I warned Goat today that he is spending time with a little girl who isn't around men very much. I don't know how she views them. I don't know what she thinks of them. She clings to them and at the same time she gets tired of their presence after a few hours, including the Infallable Cavey. She likes her mommy time.

I read once about eight years ago that a Capricorn child and Scorpio parent are in danger of creating their own world in which no one can really enter but them. I have found that to be true in our case. But she chose a parent with hermit tendencies and wildly foraged OCD. So it happens.

The Goat and I are friends now, who trade some really nice energies here and there. We are nothing alike. So no bets, no expectations and no dates longer than a few hours. Thankfully he knows me well enough. Just by saying hi to me in the past he's been greeted with "I can't date right now! I need to be alone! I need to figure myself out!" Thankfully that's one less person I have to tell the story to. He gets it.

Too Close to Home

Humanling and I did a snow dance tonight.

It's December and its time for snow. It can all pack up and go away in January, but right now its a really nice layer of Happy on the season. Well, that and I can work from home if school is closed.

Oh what will I write about when my neighbor moves out? You know the guy - with the Trader Joe's Truffle Eyes. All of about 21 years old, if that. The guy with the "friends" who enjoy passtimes such as punching girls in the nose....or.....showing what category drunk they make (Hint: does not qualify for "Happy" drunk)....or....having to draw drama out of innocently standing by energies and yelling in the hallway at people that "Oh, YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME?"

There is so much energy on this planet for us to work with in such a magical way.

We can get punched noses in video games, on HBO, shit, on the Disney channel probably. Why must we waste beautiful energy manifesting this stuff? Other people at least get PAID for it.

Humanling stressed to me during the tirades that she really really wanted me to go over there and make it stop. And I felt strange. She was treating me like a dude. Like I could only hope that they were having a Shallow Hal moment when I barged over there, all 95 lbs and 2 apples taller than a standard 80s Smurf and thought they saw something very large and very enraged.

I realized that I'm pretty much all there is. So any issue in the house is my job technically. I'm good at rigging things and have rigged this situation for myself when I was younger...but couldn't rig it for her. I had to make it stop.

As I sat trying to ignore it (because confronting non humourous drunks is a hobby that I never took up), I kept feeling very sick every time the guy's voice raised. I couldn't relax.

I remembered. That's what it was. 3am and I'm six or seven. The yelling starts downstairs, the man's voice is raising, the woman's voice is raising. My head goes under the blankets and my stuffed animal, Henry is in my grip. Something smashes. Something else smashes. Woman is screaming now and my fingers go into my ears. I start to grind my teeth very loudly and quickly trying to white noise the inside of my head. It doesn't totally drown out the physical abuse that I can hear, or the woman screaming in pain - both physical and emotional.

Eventually there is silence....and I gage a long enough silence that I can slowly grip my Henry and tentatively move downstairs, toward where I can hear my mom crying.

The panoramic view shows everything busted up and all over the floors, the counter, outside. I would go stand in front of my mom and try to hug her, but not say anything. I never said anything. I would just start cleaning. Find the broom, pick up glass, glue things together. It might be 4am when I was done.

I realized tonight what I was reacting to as I heard them. Humanling played the role of me and I wanted to fix it for her and make it stop. She shouldn't have to be scared and hear all that. She shouldn't have to know this. I really knew this.

I finally walked out into the hall hoping that the drunk either didn't have a weapon, or if he did, couldn't tell which one of me to aim for. I stood looking at the door and Humanling stood behind me. I yelled to the door.

"Do you need some HELP in there?!"

Truffle Eyes came out, calm as a coma and apologized for his company's apparent lack of arena & bull. I told him that this has been going on all night, it needs to stop and the Ling is on her way to bed and is scared by the noise. She said to him herself, "It scares me."

I tried also to be empathetic and said that I don't want anyone dying over there. That if I think someone is getting hurt, I'm going to call 911 or that Humanling would, because she really would (and has in the past for farts & giggles with my only warning being the two cop cars that sharked into my driveway immediately after). He told me that its ok, that maybe it would be good if I called.

That's not what I want to do though. He's only here for one more month. But his company clearly is not finding their Happy Places....ever. It's like its taped onto the end of a telescope and they keep walking towards it but never take the lens away from their eye.

More yelling just now.....and my teeth have certifiably been noted by prior dentists that the grinding really did leave some evidence (grinding my teeth because a standard fight or flight escape for me from that time on but has ceased as an adult thankfully).

So I said this: {opens door}........{clean and swift SLAM!}.

I heard someone leave with a few kind words about a fat f**k and hopefully the curtain has closed on this childhood memoir for tonight. After all, I got weather to bribe.

Many Doors in This Cloud

I scheduled to take today off a couple of weeks ago. I was certain that it would involve Borders.



It certainly does involve reading and coffee. But it also involves:

~gas conservation by not driving across town to Borders where I will BMOB anyway and read

~financial conservation by not using the gas nor buying a cup of coffee with the change I will need to buy it on Thursday morning

~hammering down the laundry pile that was born sometime in the summer (complete with odd and not so reminiscent nor friendly odors)

~A fabulous kick ass walk outside!!! OMG Loveys....it is a very warm day here in CT. It's got to be in the 60s. I look completely stupid in my mismatching gloves and peacoat.

~all Humanling's gifts wrapped and stashed. In the kitchen. Top shelf of the pantry. Covered in a blue sheet. All uninteresting things to my Ling - kitchen, pantry (higher levels) and linens. If I keep them in my closet, I may as well just point them out to her since she believes what is mine is hers. Which really is mostly true anyway.

~The rehabbing of the dishes in the final phases. I didn't just ignore the blog for weeks....I ignored clutter.

~Being alone all day long with those Trader Joe's sexy truffles. They can go and go but I have to stop and rest after one.

~A wonderful morning meditation

~A Long Walk, Part 2

~Accepting the gift of societal sharing by sniffing the smoke tinged air in my apartment that seeps in from the apartment next door. It's not on my wish list, but it's reality.

Speaking of the scary crew next door, they've been evicted. One of them already left. Apparently he and his buddy divorced and the other guy won custody of the cigarette smoke, knocks on the door at all hours and parade of Shady kicks going up and down the stairs. The remaining guy, who has eyes the color of those Trader Joe's truffles, and a frontal demeanor that is most charming, will be bouncing his happy butt out the door in January from what I hear. I hope both guys will figure out what went awry for them and move forward into healthy situations.

I hope the next neighbor is a little more at ease with clean air.

I walked the railroad tracks to the house that is currently still up for sale that housed my past marriage. I know the other cares nothing about it. And I'm glad to be out of there too. I took a long look at it, searching the windows for evidence of my or our previous existence. It was everywhere. Even the Christmas lights and snowflake decor that I used last year in an attempt to make a Too Big for me house, more festive in the face of constant showings and interruptions. They are now all crammed into a garbage bin outside. I can't remember putting them there.

The house has a heart, I know it does. (Yes, you can tune out if my looney vibes are starting to freak you out, I won't be offended. No one gets offended in my world....wah ha ha!)

So I basically blessed it with love. Then turned to walk away, just looking back for a moment at the pitiful For Sale sign that had fallen off the post and onto the ground.

The rest of my walk was simply reading (yeah I do that) and saying hi to most everyone I passed. I did feel one tree's energy in particular as I passed.

Right now my Humanling is in an afterschool art class so I have extra time alone. I'm using it to make her dinner. My cat alerted me that the baby squirrel was on the deck. I checked and there wasn't much for it to nibble on so I grabbed from the Squirrel stash that I keep near the deck door. I grabbed a plastic bunch with disgusting black and green intentions underneath. Of course, I am cooking right now. I threw it in the garbage but still. It existed at the same time of the food on the stove. It existed right in front of my face. And now exists in the room still, but at a lower level in the garbage. My mind searches a million times....could it have gone airborne? Would it have gone into the food? It's in the wrap. I didn't have it open and run around the kitchen with it shaking the bag. I have to remember this. But hey, that's currently one of my Special Features. Until it isn't.

I Missed You Guys!

Wow, I never expected to let the blog hibernate for a couple of weeks but as with everything, wax and wane.

You guys had some fabulous comments on the last blog regarding the 17 year old Proposer back in the 80s!

My whereabouts have been basically dabbling in some Facebook here and there, regular nightly emails to Those on my Daily Email list and tons of research.

As far as Facebook goes, I have connected with so many happy phantoms of my past. I had this one amazing job where I was trusted with the title of Music Buyer as a 24 year old. That job was a Par-Tay with matching purse. I regularly cross lines with my ex boss, who back then was my major source of burning hell infernalization. I hated him with all that my not as evolved pre quarter century self could possibly muster. I wished bad things on him at the time. I told him to his face and my other boss's face and I wished bad things on them and their wives. And kept my job because I wasn't violent about it. I was quite Girl about it. With accessorized tears. They were real.

Now though, I really like him. Really. I actually thought he was hot back then. But cocky and smarmy and he used to throw comments at me that should have gone into an HR file, had the world been paranoid about PC verbiage at the time like it is now. I hear he is a musical genius and has perfect pitch. He now works as a professor. He and his wife divorced when he was caught cheating, but he has remarried, so that's all good. I hear my other boss divorced as well.

The words of Tori Amos - The sun is getting dim....will we pay for who we've been, yeah...

Hopefully not. Can we really be punished for our misdeeds of our youth? I know there are so many answers to that. Karma, learning experiences, too much jagermeister and running mascara.

I have not run off with anyone, I am still verifiably single. I won't say whether or not the BC fairy has been by, but I do have some nice friends.

I have an ex who has been Golden to me since the :doot: thing dissolved (which hasn't been put completely to rest as another conversation still needs to take place - his request). I don't really know what to say to :doot: other than I tried. I came back into your life to make amends, not make a new problem, not trick you or hold the football only to yank it away as soon as your foot swings back. I have love for you of course. There is a ton of history. I don't know if its timing or the actual chemistry between us. I am not ready for the commitment or the time involved in an actual relationship. I am still very much in love with my spiritual path and need to walk it, smelling each flower, stroking the bark of every tree, feeding every squirrel and bird on my path. I never wanted to hurt you and never want to hurt anyone else. Which is why until I am sure about who I am, I would like to stay alone.

My ex has been very nice though....he knows the whole deal - the whole enchilada since I won't lie, no matter how much the truth is dressed like a hobo and smells like the fresh cheese section of the grocery store. I will not hide things intentionally so that others can get the wrong idea.

We'll call the ex, Goat. The Goat has heard my tales of empty pockets, bank fees for insufficient funds and worries about Humanling not quite getting as much as I wanted to try to do. I didn't tell the Goat any of this for a handout. I told him because he kept asking me questions or would want to hang out and really, I had a lot of blueprints to draw in how I was going to grab my stagecoach and rob Peter to pay Paul once again. That and worries about the Humanling at times since I really want her to see this integrative doctor in the area. She doesn't take insurance. Ka-BLAM-Ching!

Wouldn't you know that the Goat shows up with a good chunk of cash and hands it to me and instructs me to do the doctor appointment, get that gift card for my mom that I wanted to get her and don't forget the oil change. Then he went online and bought a number of things for Humanling. I told him that this was going to be paid back. So....uh, anyone want to pay him? Ha ha... no, really though. But it won't be for a couple o' months. Can anyone sexily say "Deferred"? You can actually if you roll your tongue and say "Purrrrrrrr" but change it to "De-fuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrred".

So normally, I am not the type EVER to take help.

But I am realizing on my current path that I need to stop doing that. This isn't about me. This is about Humanling's dr appt, my oil change so desperately needed and my mother's grocery store giftcard. I can GIVE whatever I have till the cows come home, unpack their spots and then take off for a mountain top guru. RECEIVING is quite another story. The Heat Miser to the Snow Miser's yang.

I am hard core on this path to really know who I am. How I'm going to change lives. How I'm going to up the ante and make this world truly a better place. Not just by hiding in my house and commenting on Facebook. Not by smiling through slightly gritted teeth at a co-worker who has the capacity to make me push the DESTROY button and saying something nice instead. But those things help. I want to know who I am. And I want to give it all away to everyone, to all of you. To God. I want don't want to erase hurts but I want to help heal them and remind us all to bookmark them for future reference, lest we test the definition of insanity.

I had a craft show a couple of weeks ago. This is the first one where I lost money by booking the space. But I had a good day. I have a few amazing spiritual items and this completely amazing Jesus picture. It's just his face and his eyes look so real. I am coming to terms that I am what could be a Crystal Christian (some call it Wiccian Christian or Pagan Christian). The girl who doesn't want to give up her crystals, tarot or Jesus. I want them all together. I am stoked to see what comes forth for us all in 2012. I am hearing that he's coming back. I meditate but not as deep or as much as I want to. That's being worked on. I have tarot cards. I have seen an angel as a child. I believe. I don't pray to Goddesses because for me they seem too mythological (for ME - I know I'm not the only one with an opinion. I also am rooted in some of my childhood beliefs). I love fairies and vampires but have never encountered a vampiric fairy. Unless mosquitos count.

I saw a girl at this craft fair. Probably between eleven and fourteen years old. I am not sure what her difference was - she didn't talk, she had 'something' up with her development. She was held onto by her mom and was sort of hunched. But we met eye to eye. And she smiled right into my eyes, which then filled with tears. This was a complete transformation. This smile of hers could change the orbits of all Jupiter's moons from millions of miles away. I wish I could have taken a photo. I'd put it on an altar to remind me that this exists. These smiles, these genuine soul smiles.

So basically, I am just one of a zillion folk, trying to find themselves, do the daily and raise an incredible human being.

The latest thing around work is Belt Tightening. Is anyone surprised? A department or two is being erased within our structures and penciled into a third party notebook. For now, I am told, we are safe.

But we are always safe. I am not wishing to lose my wonderful job. They have accommodated me into an endless chant of gratitude. But if it should happen, I want to know that I have figured out what magic is coming out of my wand. Hence, soul searching on top of existing soul searching. The whole When One Door Closes rule. I believe it in fully. On one hand, I don't wish to have to figure myself out tomorrow while re-writing my resume. On the other hand, as with everything for everyone, be who you are Now.

Or as I have heard Byron Katie say, Think of something that you think holds you back. Now think of who you would be without that issue. And then Be that person.

Facebook: You Have A Message From....

And then I saw his name. We'll call him Wheezer. That was his nickname when we were 16. It is indescribable the feeling I saw when I saw his name there. A smile that cracked, molted and grew even larger and a reserve of happy tears.

I hit the link immediately to connect with him.

He has a rather common first and last name. His name could only be worse if it were Michael Smith. Over the years any search for him resulted in my rare white flag with a google bar on it. Who knew what state he'd live in. Last I knew he was in Michigan. And that was when we were 20.

We met at McDonalds when we were both 16 and freshly morphed with working papers. I don't think they have those anymore but I'm pretty sure that we had them. We are two weeks apart in age but different astrological signs. Me the Scorpio, he the Sagittarius.

I went to a public high school where there were so many faces I'm sure some teachers didn't know my name by the end of the year. And if they did in my senior year, it was probably because I was the more rare at the time pregnant 17 year old senior. He went to a private Catholic school.

He looked like Superman, so said our geeky McDonalds quality of Circle. And he would prove later on to be one.

Wheezer was virginal. I was not. Not by much, just by two people most likely. I had a boyfriend who was a spot of trouble. I liked 'em with a criminal record. Only this one would sometimes not show up to walk me home from work and later on call me from the police station to say he was arrested for being on the roof of a grocery store. So maybe I liked them with a silly criminal recored as opposed to dangerous. My dad had a silly criminal record. Like the time he put a sand shark in the library water fountain or stealing cars. Only no one knew that was him with the shark. Well, now they do.

I recall the night the McCircle was behind the shopping center, standing on frozen cold piles of dirt. My boyfriend Rooftop was with the pack leaving, as I was. Rooftop wasn't officially my boyfriend but everyone knew we were together. He would actually wait until a few months later when he was cleared in court and knew he wasn't going anywhere before he would ask me to be his official girlfriend. Pretty considerate for a boy!

Everyone started moving toward our next destination, most likely a warm one. Wheezer stopped me for a moment. He said someone told him he wasn't a good kisser and would I mind if he kissed me so that I could give him the honest truth? I sort of shrugged and felt as though he asked if I wanted a piece of gum. Ok. Not a problem. So we kissed awkwardly and with me in Mindful Critique mode since he posed it in such a way.

Hm. Not my type of kisser at that time. Not at all.

So I told him I had no idea what that girl was talking about - he was fine.

As time went by, he became the friend who constantly watched me drunk on the tightrope, as he balanced an armload of antique eggs for his mom that would wreck havoc on the world if cracked. He stood under me waiting for me to fall and having to catch me with a delicate balance. Thankfully it was never so bad. His parents hated me. Apparently Rooftop or someone else called his home and threatened his mom that they'd hurt him. I didn't know anything about this nor would I have allowed it.

Wheezer was the guy who stood by and watched me date and become free. Date and become free again. But never dated him. I kissed him here and there. I was excited to see him and hang out with him. But he was one of my "buddies". The guy I wouldn't date. The *nice* guy that mothers loved. Superman.

For my birthday one year he offered me his virginity. I handled it gracefully but had no appreciation for what he was trying to give me. I figured it was a way of getting some. I mean what boy offers his virginity? And doesn't enjoy it?? It was a pretty neat way of trying to sleep with someone.

Within the beginning of my senior year in high school I stopped dating my last bad idea and went back to the guy I was with before I even met Wheezer or my McCrowd. We immediately enjoyed the thrills of teenagers being left alone every day after school and Miz Eye was brought into this dimension. The pregnancy with Miz Eye was unexpected, but not. I mean, we weren't preventing, so we should have been expecting. Her dad didn't take it well at the time. He was 18 and we went to separate schools. He didn't have to give in it to immediately like I did.

I was left alone by him during most of the pregnancy and when he was with me he let me know that he was embarrassed by me. We attended my prom and I wore a dress that I chose 3 months earlier. Which meant that the dress was not as supple as it was when I bought it. I felt like the prom side show and watched everyone else dance to "This is the Time" by Billy Joel while my date and donor wouldn't even hold my hand.

I relayed all this to Wheezer, one of three males that knew about my situation.

On one of our hang out nights, Wheezer decided to treat me to dinner - one of those steak places. (Yes Virginia, there was a time that Shades ate the flesh). I didn't eat much and was rather cranky, being nearly 6 months pregnant and full of joy and hope for my baby but heartbroken about who I thought was the love of my life. We left the steak place and Wheezer pulled over to a golf course. He asked me to get out of the car. I nervously got out and asked repeatedly with OCD tinged spurts - What are we doing here? Why? What are we doing here? Why?

He pulled a radio out of the car and placed it on the roof. Pushed play. A slow song came on...it might have been Heart. He might have given me a rose. And then he definitely asked me for this dance.

He wanted so hard to make it up to me for what someone else was bringing down.

I ruined the night. I refused the dance. I refused to see the beauty. I probably didn't even have dessert and maybe that was my problem. I was being the young Scorpion. The kind that stings itself over and over again just to make a point.

He wasn't deterred. As he dropped me to my house that night, he stood in front of me and held my hands. He asked me if I would marry him and he would give me his car, he would take care of me and my unborn baby. He would give up college and the experience of growing into adulthood with transitioning stages as opposed to being dropped like a freefall into it overnight like I would be (but I knew this and I wanted it.)

If I refused a dance, I was definitely refusing this offer. I said it wasn't fair to him. It wasn't his problem and that his parents would kill him.

And then...life went on. The summer was a blur after graduation in regards to him. I had my beautiful baby girl and fell in love for the first time ever, unconditionally with her. It was the first day of school when I called all my friends who were returning to their senior year, and told them she had arrived. My hospital room was full of teenagers that night.

A note regarding Miz Eye's dad. He was there for the birth, metaphorically shoving aside my best friend who had done the Lamaze time with me all summer. But the moment he saw Miz Eye, he changed. He cried, he apologized and he's been her dad - a good dad, ever since. I moved into his home with his parents after her birth. It would last for about a year and a half but we tried.

Wheezer and I eventually lost touch.

I tried to find him for years with the amazing power of the internet, to thank him. When I look back on that night, I can't believe that everyone was right. He was Superman.

So when I saw that he found me, everything in me burst with joy. I have thanked him.

And he said, after all these years, that " {Shades}you never had to thank me, but I do appreciate the kind words.I would have done it all over again if it came around again."

We have phone numbers. We just turned 39. And although he is across the country in California, I can't wait to catch up. I am at least enjoying the old memories playing back. I hope his are as good as mine.

Too Much Information?

Once I moved here to our current digs back in April, I left a few boxes unpacked. (Who does that? NO ONE does that!) This was our move to our new life, sans House bought with Turd Van Blossom, my ex husband. This was our path to new energy and new dreams.

Once you get into a place, and get the dishes and necessities where you want them, sometimes that extra box in the room isn't that important to open. If you can't guess what's in it, you probably don't need to open it right away. Or within 6 months. Or by the time you retire.

In excavating the house yesterday in order to get our beautiful tree up (we have used the same tree for the last seven years. It's merely a stick now! Joke - obviously its a fake, and I told Humanling that we have spared seven trees by using this one.) Sorry to offend any who love the real tree smell. I love the real tree smell too and had only real trees as a child. I used to hide some of the needles under the carpet so that when the tree was taken down, I'd have a memory of it. And sure enough, the next year, my clean freak mom actually missed what was under the carpet - for there were my tree needles. I just have had issues with killing things (Turd hated this about me and threw it out as one of a million reasons why he was leaving. Ok ok...so maybe the time I begged him to find a natural method to get rid of the bees at his job instead of killing them might have crossed out of my reign of duty.)

As a child I always believed everythingwas alive. If I were coloring a page in a coloring book, I had to do the face first. I believed the picture could then hurry up and breathe, see, hear, taste and talk if I could just color their face right away. I believed I could spin a web, even if I couldn't see it. And I would pull the string out of my butt and fasten it to a nail on the wall where my parents hung our astrological posters. Then jump off the couch, looking behind me to see nothing, but to KNOW that there was a human web there. Who knows how much psychic *stuff* got caught up in my webs.

I cried when stuffed animals were taken out of my room and I'd find them on the top of a garbage heap ready to go to the dump. Those poor things....they needed love and I gave them love but my parents ruled the land and those in power don't see the sacred rituals of the peons.

The worst for me though, was the year of two Christmas trees when I was about seven. My mom worked hard to keep the house together. My father worked, no doubt, he brought home a check. But he enjoyed an alternate reality that came from a bottle or can or many women who weren't my loyal mom. Heading near Christmas, there was still no tree. It was probably near December 23rd. My tiny mother had had enough. She walked up the road in the dark to a nursery and stole a Christmas tree and dragged it all the way home (Mom is about 4 foot 7 inches). I was so happy to have a tree. We decorated it and I was happy.

The next morning, it appeared that in a drunken outdoor shopping spree, my father located a tree and tossed it on the front lawn. This was sheer horror for me. There was already a tree. Now there was a dying tree, dying for no reason. No one would decorate it. It wouldn't be like the tree merely 50 feet away indoors, with gifts, sugar water and anticipation of Santa. It would just sit there and rot until someone dragged it to the woods.

This was a lot of pain for my soul. I sound so dramatic but its true. It was unnecessary and brutal in my eyes. And just one more thing that I found to not like about my father during those years.

So I went outside with a strand or two of tinsel and put them on the heartbroken tree. It was really all that I could do and it made me feel a little better.

That's not the point of the post though. Do I ever really have a point?

Upon unearthing our bedroom to get ready for the tree, one of those ignored boxes had a ton of my socks, undergarments and pantyhose in them. I apparently adpated to the fact that my sock collection had scaled down. I threw a bunch of things in the laundry pile. And got a strange pang of amusement and weird nostalgia when I pulled the laundry out of the washer.

There was a pair of black pantyhose tied in a knot.

There is only one reason I have ever done this. This was the work of an intimate encounter with my ex hubby. By unknotting it, I was touching the energy of a union that seems so surreal to me, that has generated so much negative energy and that I am still trying to wholly encompass as a union of unknown beauty. By unknotting it, I was time travelling and touching an Us that no long exists. I tried to go back in my mind and think about any other people I may have been with in the last year and a half and know that this had nothing to do with them. This was an act of trust. (He trusting me in this case. That was MY knot.)

It was like walking down the sidewalk enjoying your new beau and running smack into your old life, knocking him down by accident and landing on top of him.

It was an interesting unveiling. I can't say that it bothered me. I rather enjoyed remembering for a second identifying what had been there, knowing that I did have some nice times. Even if many of them were more on a primal level with him.

I used to think that working through past events had a timeline. It happens, you mull around for a couple of weeks, it gets better, you move on and have no right to go back and dribble about it anymore. Not the case. And not that I sit around thinking about things or wishing it were different, but I do need to examine it to reconstruct an even higher spiritual me. Even with the pantyhose.

Made For Me

Even the financially challenged find ways to buy things. I will always find the change somewhere in the house to buy a cup of coffee, somehow. Even if its in the bottom of an old purse and is gum encrusted. (I'm human, I'm washable.)

But this purchase was at least 10 coffees or more.

If anyone ever offers to allow you to wear their wares for the day, you will end up buying it. But really, how could I resist? It was the only orange leaf there. The rest were beautiful gold and silver, but once you've tasted raw honey, cane sugar just isn't the same. Not only that but a flock of women descended out of nowhere to inform me that a) they were going for that exact necklace and b) it went so well with my red hair.

Well yes, doesn't it?

This necklace was made by Lisa and was very affordable (for someone other than me with our special diets, single income and deals to pay the credit cards automatically every month - it really was a good price).

I don't think that she lists her jewelry on the site but if anyone is interested, her contact info is there. ( I took this photo of my necklace).

On another note, we woke up to big snowflakes falling this morning! Humanling and I put up our tree yesterday (and the Evil has already broken one ornament while we slept - one of the more special ones of course). It's changed over to rain, as if overhearing the weatherman on the radio and realizing that Oh Yeah, Snow wasn't called for, it was Rain.

Order up!

Time for me to walk to my coffee haunt and get a hot cup of looooove.

David Bowie - Modern Love

Humanling and I sat in our favorite coffee haunt this morning. I alternately helped her pillow herself in adjectives for the Girl Scouts manual she was writing in and was also reading sparse sentences of On Becoming a 21st Century Mystic. I will probably end up weaving a spell that involves Samoas somehow.

The music in the background was a Best Of David Bowie. I am not a Bowie fan. In fact, he used to give me night terrors while awake. His gender bender antics barged into my life when I was still learning how to use tongue while kissing, without all the drool. He simply looked like an undercooked alien.

Then Modern Love came on while we sat. I couldn't possibly control wanting to dance. I bounced in my chair (people who know me know that I do this without music but this was definitely Bowie related), sang and just felt the dam of serotonin burst through.

When this song had come out, Bowie made himself much more easy for me to lend myself peeking for a moment and not turning the channel. His 37 1/2 inch shoulder width suits even made him somewhat....handsome. And 'handsome' at 13 to me meant simply, Not Hideous or Scary. I mean, he was no Joe Elliott from Def Leppard and I would never day dream about his van breaking down in front of my home and my mom being totally ok with all the band members sleeping over in my room, but he was Not Bad in the 80s.

Or maybe I was just happy that he wasn't the Boogie Man anymore. However, today, I was the Boogie Queen.

Isn't this gorgeous?

It's a bowl of turkey fat. But I love Organic's tableware and without knowing what was in the bowl, this vegetarian thought it looked worthy of a Soup & Herb magazine cover.

Without labels and preconceived notions, the world would be so different.

Without claws, the evil animal (that Alan loves and had better make room for) wouldn't systemically depreciate my cool new findings of tag sale furniture.

Without global warming, I could not enjoy this unseasonalbly beautifully mild day in CT.

*Unforeseen amount of joy and love* so I pass it to you guys!!! A hug ethereal hug and stream of light for each of you.

I should keep turkey fat around my house. The world on this corner could up its peace flow.

You know what? I'm Happy.....

Who remembers Droopy Dog? He was right up there on my top 10 list when I was little.

YouTube is amazing. There will be no missing of Droopy Dog. They have a table for two, Droopy and you.

I had a vegetarian, gluten free Thanksgiving at Organic's house. Her husband, she and I huddled around a laptop to enjoy old cartoons. Humanling likes this one in particular.

Here's to a new world. In advance, we have a lot to be thankful for. Yeeeee-ha!!!

It Happened One Night

Or did it?



I saw this movie once and was surprised at how much I liked it. And how hot Clark Gable is in it. I see the big deal now.



I borrowed it from the library this week so I have it on again. There's a man yelling about getting your hot coffee. Gears switching to covet mode.



Tonight is just going to be random. Speeches escape me. Maybe tomorrow I will be so smitten with Gratitude that a post in calligraphy will appear with a Hallmark soundtrack.

It's incredibly odd to watch Clark Gable smoke in bed. I would be paranoid about falling asleep with the cigarette lit. Of course, I've gotten through many drunken nights (in my 20s) with the social cigarette and precariously close to sleep.

Black Friday is coming and I won't be buying my own thoughts for a penny. I oopsed into negative territory somehow, yet again. It's not that infiltrate all these high end stores trying to find the right texture cashmere either. I admit I did do some Christmas shopping last weekend but I thought I'd not spent THAT much. Ah well, live and learn, yet again. And again. And again.

Tomorrow I will be going to Organic's house with Humanling. First of course, we're going to have the parade on here and maybe I'll make some jewelry while that's on. Then we'll head over, do some social time and go for one of those fabulous walks out back, surrounded by plantlife.

Eventually I'll possibly maybe head to my mom's for a little bit to say hi.

I'm not huge on the whole surrond yourself with 90 people on the holidays thing. My favorite holidays are when I simply become the family rebel and let them all know that I'm staying home, thanks for the invite. That used to work better when I worked two jobs. They didn't like it but understood it more. I gave up the 2nd job eons ago (but probably would have kept it if I wasn't married to the jealous Turd at the time).

On another note, we watched A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving last night. Out of nowhere came a second special afterwards - "This is America Charlie Brown". It could be filed under Goth Peanuts. There was a fair amount of darkness in this special. I don't know why they bothered to use any color at all. It had disease, death, hardship. All those things they left out of the Thanksgiving show. Next year they need to show the traumatizing one first so that the happy one that ends with the Over the River song can offset the gloom.

I hope tomorrow is a fabulous day for you all. I'll be in front of the tv until Santa crosses the finish line.

Hormones with 3 million Horse Power

If it weren't for the Challenge on Na Na Na Na Hey Hey Hey Goodbye....tonight might be merely observing other people's posts instead of writing this one.

Since taking on the 30 day challenge, I've not been able to keep up with reading my favorite blogs like I normally would have.

Normally Humanling is quite the source of my inspiration. Tonight its the other one - Miz Eye.

All I have to say is I had another lesson in how strong the power of language is. Language being a symbol for ideas, of things we desire or don't desire or maybe don't mind if certain ideas are out in the garden, nibbling on the lettuce.

My older gal and I are connected on Facebook. She's been living with her boyfriend and his parents for almost three years in another state so far that she could take up residence in a constellation and I'd probably be able to see her more than I do now. So when she put a little doo dad up that said she is "now married" on Facebook today, I went from amazing good and productive mood to a scattered blob of unresourcefulness.

I couldn't find appropriate phone numbers to validate any claims that I'd gained a son (whooo! Should've just had the fruit for breakfast!)

I immediately starting measuring up my initial run of motherhood and found every reason to dry up the grass of my soul and throw down a city of cement instead. I was so upset that I wasn't told she was tying the knot and imagined a family event with all smiling Far State faces and how everyone was partaking in the celebration....while I sat here not even being told about it. Even after hearing from her yesterday via email and seeing about five emails she sent to her little sister the Humanling, today.

Some tears, destruction of self preservation walls that I constructed years ago and two phone calls to my mother passed. And finally an email from my smart ass.

She said she put that there because its like they are married but that "LOL" they aren't.

The symbols that changed my body chemistry so drastically were overridden by the new symbol "LOL" and I was mostly restored.

Now I need to learn how to harness this power for all kinds of good and healing purposes (it works fast!). And not in a Firestarter way.

Daddy's and other Primitive Stories

Psssst. Hey Bub. C'meeeeeyah. Don't tell nobody but if you've always wanted to be known as a parent but didn't want to deal with all that crap that most parents deal with, I gotta let you in a secret. Now its a little like the Freemasons - its an underground deal and not everyone who applies gets the position. I mean you gotta really want it and have the charm to get there.

You can be the star in your very own fable! You *exist* but don't really exist....sort of like the whole Santa Claus-Tooth Fairy-Easter Bunny Trinity. And even with a once a year visit, you will manage to somehow have all of the acclaim of such heavy hitters!


You may want to brush up on your kissing noises over the phone, as they may come in handy to help rope back in any child who is wising up to the fact that the responsibility scale is tipping in favor of the constantly viewed and over rated parent who is perpetually present.

You will also get to make many promises without so much as a second thought as to whether or not you really have the desire to see your child for a full week at Disneyland or can afford that Hannah Montana pogo stick that comes with a free puppy. Oh hell, at least go grab the free puppy so that the Perpetual Parent has a little more work to do. Psshhh! Why not! Be sure it isn't neutered yet either!


You got an easy Kid Card to show your naive friends who think that a) your b*tchy ex is holding back from letting you see your sperm trophy b) all those lies you make up about spending time with said trophy is perceived as truth or c) they must buy you yet another beer because you have no money since you, as an attentive father, have been "paying child support" (wink wink. We know the truth!). Your friends will be amazed at how well you balance your pittance from empties with toliet paper and dollar menu meals. They will be thoroughly impressed that you created another person at all - WITHOUT the instructions! They will come to you for well thought out advice, that you would give someone....if you actually had to be one of those poor saps who the law catches and forces to divvy out more than $20 here and there a few times a year to your gold-digging ex. Damn! Can't she just get a third job? WTF Man?!

Remember to always always promise things that you can't deliver. Be sure to live more or less within bottle rocket shooting distance but be sure to let the ex know that you can't come see the child because you'd have to Walk. If you are called out on walking, you may refer to the Excuses Pamphlet you will receive. Goodies such as "I broke my shoulder", "I hurt my back working" {off the books of course to be sure that child support cannot be bled from your stone}, and "My brother got into a car accident" have worked for many a man who needs his free time, dammit! Otherwise that stupid ex of yours will be cramping your Sauce Time with buddies and *nudge nudge* those underage girls you hang with because you are the Cool Old Guy in a band. You will buy alcohol for these saplings with their money. Why? Because you CAN you stud you! They will PAY you to get the alcohol AND ask you to partake. Not only that but if you find that you have to return the favor, you aren't actually paying anything in child support so you're covered. Dig in to that change jar and don't forget CT's blue laws....by 9pm at the latest and Never on Sunday so find a ride on Saturday to stock up.

*****In all honesty, I wrote this back in early August. I wasn't going to publish it because I just didn't think I should. Humanling's dad is a charmer. If he wasn't, he'd be sober.

I have found out today about more covered up stories and excuses - even pertaining to the day that HL wrote her post about being upset that the Biological didn't call early enough and see her.

Tonight he asked if I'm stopping by my mom's for Thanksgiving. He is now stationed a five minute walk from my mother's house. I said I wasn't sure and told him that he can go there if he wants if he would like to eat with my mom and step dad. After all, I did say Charmer, everyone likes him, including my parents. My dad would probably skin a man right in a church pew if he was all looking the wrong way, but Cavey is in somehow and always will be.

Cavey said he thought he could visit with Humanling at my mom's. Here comes Just To Make a Point. I could have said OK! so that HL can have a few moments to be near the Idea that she has a father, like other kids have dads. And so that she can put her intentions on her dad instead of hugging every male in my life with more gusto and clinginess than I can stand to watch (or allow happen...we are going to have a talk really soon). It upsets me that she is trying to just see what it feels like to have that normal adult male parent affection because she doesn't know enough about it. I'll be honest....neither did I while growing up. And maybe a couple of times I looked at my little girl friends interacting with their dads and wondered what that felt like - to joke around, to be adored by your father and not be terrified of him or want him to disappear.

{Pant Pant....I'm getting winded!}

Instead, I asked Cavey why he can never see her and acts like other people in her life who only want to see her on holidays or make the effort then? He said my mom's house is close to where he is. Good point. Better point - he's been living at the end of the road that I live on the whole time. There is no reason he can't see her in between holidays and give up his friends and put away the 100 proof dream that the 18 year old he's been hanging out with for over 6 months now is going to finally see that they are destined to ride off in a boat made from Schlitz tabs.

I just never know what the right thing to do is. Give in and allow her the time where she can get it? Or fail at trying to teach him constantly that he needs to be more responsible and that he can't see her unless he's acting responsible.

Apparently he didn't like my Quantum Parenting theories. He hung up on me. And then HL got mad at me for the whole thing happening.

This ain't nothing compared to what reality has waiting for her someday, unfortunately. I just hope she remembers that she always has me and that it will actually bring her a comfort.

Blonde Roots Red Tangles

It's tough to be Humanling.

Her little butt is sitting on one side of my Leg Magic, which came out of bedroom retirement into semi-use in the living room. She's sliding on it like a side to side rocker. And holding her eye.

She poked herself in the eye about two centuries ago earlier and is milking the injury. So as she is now not aware that I'm looking at her not holding her eye and clearly watching the Spongebob movie, I can see that she's gonna make it. And as I wrote that last sentence, she turned around to look at me, hand automatically magnetically covering the eye.

I can't find my Gameboy. A few people know how precious Mario and his environment of blips, turtles and Luigi are to me. It's not the equivalent of the nightly glass of wine for some. It's the paddles that bring a person back from the dead during heart failture.

I'll admit that I haven't actually looked for it either. But I haven't looked for Azrael and she shows up and crosses my path all the time.

I had one of my neighbors over today. He fixed a window that I had busted with my foot. No, no, its not like the PMS post. The window was stuck and I tried to stand on the bottom of it to unstick it and hoped that it would gently get the idea. Instead my sneaker went straight through it and it shattered. It's been like this for about 2 months. I adapt to my surroundings. Darwin would love my form of evolution.

We just don't use that room and keep the door shut. That's my method of living with it. My neighbor however, thinks like most other responsible folk and offered to fix it for me. He also fixed my bedroom door, which wouldn't tightly close. Azrael the Evil was in and out of my room to bat the guinea pig in the face or knock over plants at her repeated choosing.

Well HA!!!! It's fixed now AZ! Now you have to be a CARD CARRYING MEMBER to get in.

So I made us some lovely millet rolls, toasted with a pat of butter, freshly cut garlic, bruschetta and soy mozzarella cheese on top. It was fabulous.

What isn't fabulous is the Texan Tumbleweed of hair that I've combed out of my scalp tonight. Humanling loves to play with my hair in her various stages of semi-consciousness while sleeping. I just combed out the huge Knot Curl that she created and almost constructed a bald spot from pulling out all the tangles. She's too damn cute though and I'm sure there's a man out there who likes bald spots created on a woman for the love of her Ling.

Speaking of, she is now leaning on me, fingers in my hair in almost the same spot that I just rescued from impending dreadlocks.

I tried to create a new dish tonight for the perpetual rotating menu. It's called Mesir Wat and its Ethiopian. It has fresh ginger, garlic, onions, red lentils, turmeric and paprika. Yet somehow, I tasted, in my imagination, fish. That's grounds for recipe failure. I should not taste something that I didn't put in there. So I have a large saucepan full of Stuff We Aren't Going to Eat. I'm sure its fine and someone else wouldn't taste it but I'm me and once I've made up my mind that I Ain't Gonna, then its a done deal.

Grilled soy cheeses on rice bread it is....

Well, the alarm that is my right butt cheek falling asleep, just went off. Time to clean dishes and try not to eat too much chocolate.

Here is what Humanling and I are currently jazzed about. And I need to remember to hit the farking SAVE button because I lost the original post. Love it. Mwah.

What I really love is seeing Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg in their tight black little man outfits.

Eek.

Flo Destroys my Zone for a Moment

I know I'm not alone here in saying this. We've all gritted our teeth and spoken through the forced smile when you are aggravated. I'm a person who needs not to hear talking while other talking is happening. If the online radio show is on, you can bet that's when Humanling, who right after school said her day was 'ok, nothing special', has found 92 things to run past me regarding what I've missed.

I usually start with a forced smile (because Humanling and I both have a Virgo moon...I intuitively know how easily crushed our zest can get if we are cut off harshly and will hesitate to bring up the subject ever again. I try very hard not to De-Zest her) and then end up pointing and clicking the pause button on the radio show. It's the law. The harder I am trying to hear the show, the more words and syllables in the words and interactive conversation she needs. The louder she speaks and the more separated my left and right brains get, the more I feel like my head has turned into one of those beef posters with the white dotted lines and the labels. Some days I'm smart enough to hit Pause immediately instead of testing my patience for a few moments longer.

HL and I had a nice night for the most part. I had a weird dark feeling during the 2nd part of the day, which is highly unusual for me. I couldn't quite see the man behind the curtain so thought Christmas shopping would be a fabulous idea. And it was.

I love Christmas shopping. I love buying presents for people. My vocation should be to buy my friends and family gifts. Even people I barely know.

It is also just about time for Aunt Flo to burst through the door and unpack for a few days. I'm usually not the PMS type. Except for today.

Once we got home tonight around 10pm, I started to feel the pressure of throwing a capsule into water and growing an instant maid to help me out. I got us home too late. HL needs a full night's sleep, especially with her epilepsy. You don't do a person with this issue any favors by depriving them of rest. I also remembered that she hadn't eaten much and you also can't let their blood sugar get too low. Dishes were piled in the sink. My hot guinea pig's cage is a day or two overdue for a poopless makeover. I started to load the dishwasher right after I threw a millet roll into the toaster oven to give HL a quick snack and then medicate her.

Once I start loading the dishwasher, its important for me to follow through without interruption. The hands are all wet and I don't feel like aquanating things around the house by having to tend to quick things during a loading session.

I broke down and bought HL something she really really wanted. Feety pajamas. Only she never had them before in the absence of a diaper. So she really didn't know how they went on. I told her to try and deal with it as I kept loading the dishwasher, hands dripping, the foreboding feeling of knowing that I wouldn't finish without some incident. She couldn't figure it out. She made noises of frustration (I haven't found a time where I've actually enjoyed these sounds with her as of yet) and I warned her to stop or else I would take the pj's away. Azrael the Evil took this moment to tear through HL's legs, causing the loud irritating noise of frustration that I took to be pajama related.

I quickly pulled out my ugly mask and went to work. I slammed the frying pan into the sink, grabbed the pajamas with my soaking wet hands and tossed them into the pantry and told her to go take a break. (Hm....who REALLY needed the break?). She then tried to tell me she made the No No sound because of the cat. I felt bad. And I had a huge sudden and tender green bump on the side of my knuckle where most likely the frying pan kissed me. Feeling the pain of the Green, I realized that I had just walked out on stage and accepted my PMS award. I was a complete jerk and felt like a huge bully.

HL came back out and wanted to try her jammies again. This time I instructed her properly and she got it right. I feel horrible that I basically traumatized her first experience with the big kid Feeties. She was so excited about these things and I went and got a green bump over it all.

I have tomorrow to make it up to her. But I already know when I climb into bed, at some point she'll wrap her little arm around me and ask for a hug and will then let her hand fall into my hair, twisting it around her fingers (a lifelong comfort of hers).

Deep breath.....the constraints of time are all in my mind. The bags will get unloaded, the dishes are now done and its Friday. Yeeee-haw.

The Forces of Az

Right before delving into my veggies after the Tiger Lilly incident, I consulted with Google regarding the potential toxicity of Tiger Lillies and their pollen. Apparently, Wikipedia has heard me -

While most parts of the plant are edible for humans, the pollen is considered poisonous. All parts of the plant are toxic to cats, resulting in kidney failure in a few days after eating it.

Well this sort of frightens me. I had them away from the cat, however, kitty was near the flowers somehow while I slept one night because I saw the pollen on her back.

This set me off terribly. When I freak out, what you see is a normal person, talking calmly and plugging in numbers, balancing checks. My insides however started to rot and break down.

Freaking out protocol involves emailing the circle of friends who never fail to Kiss the Boo Boo and Make it Mostly Better. That would be my wonderful friend in California who we call Auntie Mame, my local wonderful friend Organic and I emailed the giver of the homicidal pistils and staimins. Next Time, make it Roses, I said to him.

Now this is the cat who is basically the most annoying thing in my life. The bane of my existence. I have gotten sore throats yelling at her to get off the table, off the guinea pig cage (where she Lords over the poor little guy and swats at him, sending him wheeting into his wooden shelter) and to get away from the plants. I can't stand her most of the time. But. I'd NEVER get rid of her. She is family.

She tears through the house like a Budweiser Clydesdale on fire, for no humanly visible reason. She slithers around corners and targets open cups of water. I admit, there are times I chase her out of boredom just to see her do the rainbow arch with her back - I like to gage the moment she goes from arch into Dash!

She's a jerk, like a human. But she comes back after all the teasing and yelling with a love that is beyond human and she comes over deliberately and puts one paw out on my arm. It's all very direct, very much from her soul by using her eyes.

I called the vet in my contained panic and basically was told to watch and wait. Which is the definition of Doom. Doom never just suddenly hits - WHAM! Doom is an impending event. Something that eats you alive as you think about all of its faces and variables.

When I walked into the house that day, I called for my Wizard of Az and she came immediately, reporting for duty, SIR. That's Az. Forgives it all, thinks its always getting better. And acting perfectly fine. The cat is Rasputin.

The next morning as she did the morning tussle between my feet as I tried to walk into the kitchen, I only mock hated her as I fell against the wall, happy that I still have the cat who thinks she's a Reindeer, named Dasher.

I Don't Get People Like This

To those that I offend and possibly ruin Thanksgiving, I apologize for inflicting something so foul on you. You may choose to not watch. All I have to say is that I am glad I don't eat turkey and have not eaten any in 16 years.



The following bullet points according to Peta:

• Employees stomped on turkeys' heads, punched turkeys, hit them on the head with a can of spray paint and pliers, and struck turkeys' heads against metal scaffolding.
  


• Men shoved feces and feed into turkeys' mouths and held turkeys' heads under water. Another bragged about jamming a broom stick 2 feet down a turkey's throat.
  


• A supervisor said he saw workers kill 450 turkeys with 2-by-4s.
  


• One man said he saw a coworker fatally inject turkey semen and sulfuric acid into turkeys' heads.

I know some people do buy free range organic turkeys and that's a far cry from factory farmed. However, if by chance, anyone is thinking of changing to help the environment in this way by cutting down or cutting out completely their meat consumption, the following video might nudge you over the line.

I do believe everyone has their own path, their own way and I never want to sound preachy. But I just can't stand the propaganda that its Turkey Day. When its Arbor Day we don't cut down a slew of trees in celebration.



Things like this challenge the love in my heart.



If you want to speak out against this kind of cruelty, click here.

Tragic Brain Farts

It doesn't matter if you were born last week. We are designed for whatever reason to have brain farts. Perhaps you forget how to cry for food and speed paint a diaper by accident. I'll bet half of all diapers, or at least a third, weren't meant to happen on the timeline that it did.

My good buddy Ham, who I work with, and who has to endure sitting next to my Untimely Talks (such as when she has to do something completely mind engrossing), had an interesting and tragic episode today. What's beautiful is that she TOLD someone about it. And with her permission, because no photo is included, I get to repeat it and it will have its own link on the internet for all of eternity.

There are these tiny little counter top garbage pails. The kind that look like astronauts - they're round domes on top of a vertical cylinder. She got her coffee from the cafeteria and then proceeded to doctor it up. She uses about four to six sugars (its a large - she isn't hyper). She stood there opening each sugar packet and methodically pouring them each, one by one, into the garbage instead of her coffee. This would never have happened to me. I drink the free mud in the breakroom. The tragedy here is that no one witnessed. This had to be a passed down first generation oral story. It's good to see that they still exist.

But then my mind realized that I do sit right next to her and by hearing her story, I am capable of the same thing. Somehow.

Manifestation Dialed and Delivered.

As I was leaving work, I headed to my car thinking about how much I need to excercise. I'm small but the heart needs excercise. I thought about how much I love walking, how I love treadmills even. I wondered when I'd be able to purchase something, used or new.

And then my mind saw handles. Peeking out of a tower of clothes. That's my room. Those are my clothes. What is that handle attached to? It has to be an excercise thing. That's the only thing with hangable clothing handles. What species though??? What is it in my bedroom?! I've lived here since April and can't remember for the life of me what it is.

A rower? I think it had sliding things. I don't remember sitting down to use it. Or did I?

I couldn't wait to get home and find out!!! It's like Christmas when you can't remember!!!

I found out that I have a Leg Magic machine!!!! How excited am I?

Now I know what I'll be doing at night to keep active.

Maybe I ought to pick up a few sudoku puzzles as well. And some for Ham as well.

Imported from 1970

No, not me. I was a couple months early for that.

I find that when I'm searching for new recipes, checking in other hemispheres sometimes strikes my domestic fancy. So I found this West African Cookbook, published in 1971. And true to the decor of the decade, the only colors available for the book jacket are brown and orange.

I tried to go to Amazon.com to get an image but apparently there isn't one. See? (it's pretty dark, so maybe not)

They have one copy - and its used and you can have it for 60.16 before shipping charges.

Funny enough, what I needed to make tonight from this book was also brown and orange. I made Yam Fritters.

So easy to make and they are SO tasty. But if I fried up a diaper it would taste good. Fried anything usually is pretty decent. And a recipe usually loses me if it poses too many appliance accomplices (a food processor is a kiss of death for my interest), teaspoons of every herb on the shelf, or broth of any kind.

Tomorrow night I will make my attempt at getting Humanling to eat these.

Now they're looking a little chicken nugget-y but I assure you that not one feather was plucked for this display. In case you're wondering, this is one large yam, cooked and mashed. Then simply mixed with one egg and flour - just enough to make it dollop correctly.

Oh and one more color was added to the queue. Black. While I was 'multi-tasking' in the other room. So I guess I get the unphotogenic, crispy ones.

Fletch! Starring Bernie Siegal, MD

While cooking a banana bread from scratch that didn't make it to its full incarnation, I spilled a little gluten free flour here and there. I was also reading a holistic magazine in between doing various tasks that added to the banana bread not coming out right. I looked and saw that I'd spilled some flour on Bernie's head. Immediately I remembered that childhood favorite - the picture of the happy man and you had a magnet pen and arranged his hair and facial hair and he smiled no matter what world of hurt you decorated him with. I've decided that now that I'm single, I have time to do this:



This is old man in the hills Bernie. Or possibly Vodka straight from the Potato Bernie.

This is Kid N Play Bernie. Who remembers the parallelogram flat top?!

I get the chills with THIS cool Bernie. Mmmmm Mm! Give me that bad boy!

I think Bernie's a well rounded individual who doesn't mind being the understudy for Marie Antoinette.

Why can't Bernie be the nice hunk of cheese in the Underworld? I think the world is going gentler now so this should catch on and be seen on all the informercial channels.

This is probably why the banana bread burned.