Wet Noodles are Not Amusable aka The Finger Poem

I have one cold finger on my right hand.

I am asked….Why – where did you have it?

Well of course, with the other fingers on that hand, silly!

And were you doing anything different with it?

No, but isn’t that funny?!?!?!?!

No. Not really.

Babes In Bookland!

Oh boyohboyohboy!!! There is nothing on this earth quite like the feeling of holding a pile of Borders Gift Cards and embarking on the Tour De Books! The possibilities of purchases, knowledge, entertainment and café beverages are enormous! Humanling and I set off today for a Three Hour Tour…a Three Hour Tour…..(hour and tour do not rhyme at all. I should get a grammatical beast that explains the drunken weirds and inconsistencies of the English language while I’m there!).

Just having had breakfast, the Ling and I were not yet suited for the café. She did however, request an Izzie as soon as she thought of it. Too early o’clock. Immediately after starting to suck it down in rapid straw fashion, she started to look, well, not suited to be indoors at a store. All potential carefully chosen purchases were placed in a pile and I steered her to the outside where she could get some air and hopefully recoup! After all, we had Borders’ GOLD to spend!
Within two minutes of freezing New England air, a viewing of a yellow trail through the snow, jokes courtesy of Mamma Moi and loosening the layers, she was raring to get back inside and finishing panning for papyrus flavored jewels!

Oh and did we have fun.

One book I decided to look for on the handy Don’t Harass an Employee When You Can Use our (sometimes confusing)Kiosk, was Gifts From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. I basically remember only a handful of books from when I was around 22 that made my soul just open. This was one of them. But how would it fare to a 41 year old in 2010? I saw that they had stocked it on the Christian religion shelf. Really? I don’t remember this at all about it. But ok. And there it was. Small, brief and just full of invitation to re-read. It was nearly $20 for the hardcover. I decided that I could find it online for much cheaper. Right now I see it listed on Amazon.com for $10.88 brand new. I don’t recall what it was with that book that I am left with such a fond feeling. It was given to me by my then boyfriend’s mother, who I felt was an absolutely embodiment of pure love. Maybe it was the who and not the gift itself. But I will eventually read it again.

The bargain bin is sometimes something of a disaster to walk past. Cookbooks from former Melrose Place stars, romance novels (Le Ewwww!), and how to make origami out of your phone bills are all commonplace and in abundance. Sometimes though, if you’re patient, it doesn’t have to be a complete Marshall’s experience. I cite Marshall’s because I have to be in a real *special* mood to sift through things there. Same experience with TJ Maxx. More like patience Maxxed Out. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason sometimes to the racks. Surprising conundrum for someone like me who hosts power paper and book piles at home.

I did find in the bin today though The Mindful Child by Susan Kaiser Greenland. I figured, why not? We like the term ‘Mindful’ in this house. Even if it’s “you are full of Mindful Sh*t”. The book’s cover tells me happily that it will help manage stress and become happier, kinder and more compassionate. That’s a five star kid personality right there! My Ling is pretty darn wonderful…although to turn off the bias for a moment, she could really use a dose of compassion in her veins. And all for $3.99!

I spend a season or two resisting the next year’s calendars because I simply can’t stand to pay full price for something that will depreciate by 50% on December 26th. Today I found a fun daily 2011 calendar about one of my most favoritist of subjects: Vampires. This has daily info on legends, lore, practices and protections. Hm. I’m more interested in the words that begin with “L” in that sentence but it’s good for me to know what NOT to do when the big day comes. I’m certainly not going to chase away a vampire when I can roam bookstores for all of eternity simply for failing to employ Anti Vampire technique.

We stopped at my favorite section of all – the one that holds all the pagan, 2012, astrology, tarot, wicca and shaman books. A Kindle, I am sure, has it’s joys. But a book – to hold a book and turn its pages….I don’t think that can be replicated. After looking at quite a few, I felt drawn to A Witch’s 10 Commandments – Magickal Guidelines for Everyday Life. Yeeee-Yay-Yah! The edge of the pages remind me of what the hardcover Anne Rice books are like…those uneven, ripped type of borders…..just a home-made, olden feel to it. A Can’t Wait to read pick! But then again, how many books do you really buy that you CAN wait to read?

On the way out, I picked up a new issue of Yoga International. I had mentioned earlier to Humanling how much fun it would be if we cut out photos from magazines that we like and made our own scrapbooks out of them. Of course I will need to read my yoga magazine first before decimating it, and simply couldn’t find a single magazine that I wouldn’t want to read before cutting it up.

Now Humanling, after feeling much better, found about 200 things that she wanted with her $25 gift card (it was a Visa so they take out that $3.95 activation fee up front. A tad gratuitous in my humble opinion). We had to go weeding in the Borders red basket a number of times before she could wittle it down to something under $1000. She chose two paperbacks eventually – Luv Ya Bunches by Lauren Myracle and Is This Normal – An American Girls series book. It was love at first sight when she moseyed past and saw it’s flash of giant PINK. She’d never heard of it previously, but picked It up and it made the basket cut. Which eventually made the receipt cut.
There’s a lot to be said (but don’t worry, I won’t) for the American Girls books. I don’t know how their story series goes but the subject of obtaining teen behavior and body books are outstanding. It’s good just to hand them to the young blooming lass and walk off as if it isn’t a big deal. Eventually they figure out the excitement and come back with questions after long, porous reads alone. Simply amazing books.

She also needed a journal to record her feelings in…somewhere safe to write and draw, as the pre-teen brain must have a way to vent and express. She saw journals within the last couple of years that have the magnetic cover and always wanted one. They’d always been a few dollars out of range every time we are within range of one. But not today! Today we were invincible with our Borders Gift Cards! And….it had a clearance sticker on it. Those beautiful stickers with the red bar and bold black numbers! Bonus!

And of course, the magazine rack – I had my periodical fix, it’s nice to pass on the fun of magazines and the like with my Ling. She chose at first a magazine on Baby’s. Like for pregnant women. To the tune of a resounding No on my part. I walked her to the Bieber Bibles and other Teen poster pages. She spotted the Simpsons comic book, #26. I am a big fan of comics, bigger of manga. So of course! Perfect. I slipped the Baby magazine back onto the shelf and orchestrated a stadium’s worth of cheer for the newer choice.

Not to mention the CD’s…Humanling loves those NOW mixes so we got her one of those. I just had to buy Diddy Dirty Money – Last Train to Paris. I j’adore that song “Hello,Good Morning”. Hula hoop to that and I dare you not to feel totally soul freedom and glee. That’s right….that’s pretty damn special!

I was also looking to widen my Ella Fitzgerald collection but in my search decided I wanted something with multiple female jazz singers. I ended up with Verve Unmixed 4….a collection of good jazz singers with the music remixed to hold hands with hip hop. Nice concept!

Material goods are looked at many times as evil and shallow. And many many times this is the case. But books….that’s like a million worlds, a million galaxies and possibilities. That’s an experience, not an item. I’m content now that I’ve gotten to connect to the mothership for a few hours today. My blood is half Borders, half Amazon (dot com) woman!

Inevitably Blessed

Today we are finally receiving proof that snow exists. I feel like I’ve heard the Sky is Falling a number of times this season so far, only to receive nary a flake. Booooo!

I do not enjoy being cold. I enjoy even less, being hot. By default, bring down the mercury!

I do love the cozy, hunker down feeling of a snowstorm. We had an amazing Christmas day yesterday…the very holiday we’d been dreading simply because it has been a rough health season for the Honey, leaving us to mainly rely on my paycheck for a family of three in a very expensive town. We managed to buy a few gifts for our families, but our main concern was to give Humanling a kid’s Christmas. Straight from the Humanling’s mouth, “This is the best Christmas Ever!”. That in itself made us happy.

As the snow comes down today, we stare at the full birdfeeder. This is another joy of ours….to see the pine grosbeaks, doves, blue jays (well…Honey is not enjoying the bluejays but to me they aren’t simply Bird Bullies of the feeder, they are still birds), chickadees, tufted titmice (not even sure if the plural would be that but it seems to make sense!) and nuthatches. What a wonderful cast of our daily Bird Show. We had run out of bird food a month or more ago and could hardly stand to watch the birds mainly disappear. Even worse was watching them show up desperately, pecking inside the empty holes, looking for anything at all. I’m almost positive they’d even have settled for a gobstopper.

But now, it is full. The birds have telegraphed the other birds that there is one place nearby that is serving in this weather.

Our other animals seem content and happy…guinea pigs have carrots from grandma’s yesterday. Cats and dog are all curled up on various pieces of furniture.

We travelled down the hill to the market for Snowed In type food. Which is anything you can get your hands on at this point. Say honey, doesn’t motor oil make a good buttery sauce?

The shelves were becoming more and more bare from the organized, under frenzied but over annoyed crowd. A sense of humour was not to be found. What WAS found though were people who may have been out of The Happening. It isn’t sound that they were REALLY trying to off themselves, but debatable when more than one person walks/drives/sleds aimlessly in a parking lot without much regard to the fact that it really isn’t a ghost town. Those aren’t mirages…they are actual CARS coming at your back. Thankfully with people behind the wheel who want to enjoy their Christmas wares without the slap of manslaughter on their record.
But now, with the beautiful gift of wood for the fireplace, a fire burns and the three of pursue after Christmas enjoyment. Art to be made, posts to be writ, football to be watched, beer bottles to be kissed by the Honey.

The most beautiful gifts of all, were every single one of them. We were far blessed! I am swimming in giftcards to Borders. My heaven, my sanctuary, my All That Is Right with this World. Beautiful, beautiful Borders. Of course I fantasize about reading more than I actually wish to be reading!

But the top gift of all, the Mother of all Gifts, is that my older girl, Miz Eye and her boyfriend of 5 years, are gifting the world with a blessed new being! As life keeps opening up new days, new lessons and new passions, I am inevitably regenerating again...I am going to be a 41 year old Grandma! So for now, lots of sweet dreams of books and the time to read them as well as that fresh new baby smell and a cross country trip to Arizona next year to get to enjoy it!

Happy Christmas Eve!

The wind is blowing so loud I’m looking for a film crew and maybe Mark Wahlberg to be outside. It’s one of those happy days to do any and everything in flannel sweats.

The birdfeeder swings like a pendulum, hummingbird feeder in sync. I wonder why we even having the hummingbird feeder out there in late December, in a climate where snowmen hit up the Starbucks Drive Through for something hot to sup!

The bird feeder has become a symbol of failure and guilt around here. All summer long we kept it full of a mix of seed and the gourmet stuff with nuts in it. I watched as a woodpecker came along, casually tossed stuff out of the feeder to the ground until finally finding the holy grail of a coveted nut. The seed on the ground usually is eaten by the gray doves that never try to perch there miniature hen like bodies on the feeder. Of course, I’m guessing that the seed on the ground is also the first step onto the bridge of doom for many birds, as my cat Azrael is quite the hunter. It’s possible that she catches, kills, then displays these birds near the door so that the dog can be taken down a rung or two as he loves to catch and kill things but doesn’t have nearly the access to the playground that Azrael does.

Tick Tock Tick Tock back forth back forth….like the guilt of the telltale heart. Once in a while a chickadee or a Tufted Titmouse shows up and sits on the rung, peeking hopefully into the cavern where food used to be plentiful.

TICK TOCK TICK TOCK! Even the tiny stomachs of those feathered, echoes loud.

After one more pleading of “Awww…honey look! They’re so hungry!”, he brought home bird food.

On this Christmas Eve, watching the birds have plenty to eat in the cold is indeed a welcome sight!

With the small exception that Azrael seems to take the full birdfeeder as functioning bait as she lurks on the deck stairs! No birdies for Christmas, Az! Not for you!

But all of you dear readers, have a magical and sparkly Christmas! To each and every feathered, gilled, furry and uprighted!

Stink! Stank! Stunk!

Public bathrooms are literally a crapshoot. If faced with plenty o’ time to keep shopping/browsing, I’m no prude. I’d much rather not hold it. Then I start thinking in practical terms….what if there’s traffic on the way home, what if I want to stop somewhere else, what if I run out of gas??? I don’t want my bladder to be the first and foremost thing on my mind if there’s a detour!

Humanling and I were out and about and she needed to use the bathroom in a small office space/retail building we were in. As we walked into the foyer area near the bathroom, we passed a man who had just come out and ducked into the office area behind a door. Two more women showed up in the area as well.

As Humanling slipped through the one toilet bathroom and shut the door, the alarms in my Ol-Factory went blaring. My nostrils were slapped with a creeping scent that could have only escaped from the open One Toliet Bathroom when Humanling slipped in. I surged with fear for my child, breathing in these toxic fumes…if it smelled this bad outside the door, what on earth did the walls look like on the other side??? I suddenly felt like a fireman who needed to bust down the door with an axe and a face mask.

I expected to see smoke seeping out from under the door and called in to Humanling to see if she was hurrying. I heard her respond through a muffled coat that must have been over her nose. I didn’t want to call out the smell just in case Mr. Stink Stank Stunk was within earshot. But being a kid, she Loud and Cleared it through the door, “IT SMELLS IN HERE!!!”

She came out and we quietly laughed and tried to hurry out the door. I gave her my sympathy and said, “Wow….that was pretty bad. God did that stink.”

Without even pausing she said “That’s because there was a MAN in there!”

I'll Have My L'amour Over Hard Please

My Honey with whom I fight hard and love hard (Aries & Scorpio....we OWN Mars!) has just made me a wonderfully prepared breakfast as I work from home. He put so much work into it and with cheer. It makes me feel like a rather spiffy and shiny Scorpion!

One good turn does another and another and another. There is no scorecard, but if we can all remember to do that one good turn, my opinion is that is makes our relationships even more special. Sometimes it's downright painful to make that first reach out...mostly during spats or if the relationship itself seems to be spinning its tires in the trenches. But my guess is that usually....USUALLY...it is an improvement that pays in waves and waves of feel good dividends.

He's downstairs manning the clean up from that five star breakfast now. I think a massage for the chef is in order when I am done working today!

And now I just heard the grinding of fresh coffee beans. He is beyond a massage at this point....wink wink.

What will YOU do today to up your relationship ante?

Tiny Packages bring Apocolyptic Things!

In cruising the Blog ‘hood, I saw a writing prompt at The One Minute Writer asking "What was a recent gift you gave"?

Well THAT’S easy. Just a mere two blogs ago I was chillin’ with Peggy the Villian and as it was her birthday, mom was said recipient.

But that doesn’t tell you what I gave. I hesitate to mention it simply because mom is a cute and tiny friendly figure at the local carousel. She is the operator who takes the coins from the cute little germy fingers, lets the parents know that Yes, even though they are prone to motion sickness - if the kid is under 6 years old they have to ride as well and has thankfully pulled a fallen baby out from under the moving carousel without the child getting hurt.

She’s a hero! She’s adorable! She’s a Smooth Mominal.

That’s right. Peggy has a dark side to her. I won’t detail the darkness that has befallen me in my young and rambunctious years, back in the days when I would tempt fate. Back when parents could still legally say “I brought you into this world and I can take you right back out!” But I will say this. Be forewarned. My mother not only has a temper, but she deeply enjoys books on murderers and serial killers.

Oh wait, did I say books? Why am I limiting myself here? I meant books, movies, documentaries, rumours, and microfiche. Mom enjoys the crispy black lining of the human psyche. And laughs about it.

She even saw The Excorcist in the movie theater ALONE. (My soul just ran screaming at the thought!)

Guess what color sweater looks best on her? A nice homicidal hue of Redrum*! (Gratuitous Shining reference).

Oh….did I just kick my mom out of the well stocked Creepy Closet? It’s okay. If she’s reading this, she’s probably giggling.

I found this rather thick paperback of sick psychos and the headlines detailing their crimes in chronological order by year. I knew my mom had to have it. And sure enough, when she saw it, I heard that Soulmate music…that Staring Across a Field at Each Other Right Before Running into Each Other’s Arms because They’re the One music. My mom and this book. Meant to be.

I sat with her as she flipped through and was amazed, no….Impressed! That mom could see a black and white old photo of a couple of teenagers from about the 1950s or 60s and tell me all about the story. I read pretty quickly so as she spoke, my eyes scanned the story. Every detail she gave….was right there in print. I moved a couple of inches to the far end of the couch.

Just remember, she’s tiny and appears harmless. But so does a dime falling from the top of the Empire State Building.

You’ve been hit by…you’ve been struck by….a smooth Mominal.

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Pity Party! (Just some Marshmallows)

Remember that fun pity party we had recently?

The one where the full bucket with cries of empty, hot chocolateless tummies were dumped upon our heads?

The relief helicopters have arrived and this is no longer a home devoid of the Green Tin that originates from Trader Joe’s. I only had to give half of my left pinky for it.

(Arms up in Touchdown stance) And it’s GOOOOOD! Hope you like it shaved, because there within the magic peppermint powdered mix lies oodles of shaved dark chocolate.

The Humanling enjoys it as is. I happen to enjoy putting a scoop in my afternoon coffee.

And as is during the holiday season at the end of any commercial, I must say very quickly and in a manner that is barely audible, yet covers my butt, Marshmallows not included.

The Gang Member That is Peggy

I haven’t hung out with my mom in a really long time. I keep telling her that I will, such as a busy parent promises their youngin’ that they will definitely go fly that kite/see that movie/take that trip to Salem and then the idea gets eaten by the fringes of time.

I decided to call my mom two days before her 67th birthday and let her know that I’d be picking her up the next morning so that I could take her out for birthday breakfast, a day early. One thing I said to my mate on the morning of picking up mom was, “I’d better call her and see if we can go to xyz place for breakfast or else she will choose a diner and then the mall to walk around all day.”

She picked up the phone and I cheerily asked if she had any ideas of what she wanted to do.
“I thought we’d go to the ZYX diner and then to the mall!”

Yay. The diner and the mall. Quick reality check….this trip isn’t about ME….it’s about my mom who wants to ignore her high blood pressure and hit up a diner for greasy food and then the mall! My mom works at the mall, running the carousel. She knows this place inside and out and will give you the report on what’s opened, what’s closed and who got fired. Even if you don’t know them.

So at least the diner she chose was one of the cleaner ones. I used to work for the family in a different diner and my hands grew cacti out of what became dry landscape where soft skin used to be. You didn’t even need a plate for your food, we used bleach and burn victim temperature water to clean the tables.

Mom chose the Anti Low Pressure plate and allowed her Brooklyn to run wild when asked what kind of toast she wanted. Rye of course. But wait….does it have seeds? No? Then whole wheat is fine. I don’t think in all my previous waitressing years I’d ever been asked this question. In fact, I didn’t know a toast order’s livelihood even rested on caraway seeds!

We ate, we discussed the things of life that you discuss as an adult. The child rearing, the job crannies, the ins and outs of relationships. And as I was being the adult child, I quietly acknowledged the little me by quietly pulling all the egg out of my wrap as we spoke and leaving it in a pile to the side. I have my weirds and they’ve been more subtle as time goes by. There are times then that I don’t feel bad about indulging in an occasional weird. We have our chicken girls here at home and maybe there is a slight psychological guilt when I attempt to eat an egg from another lady! My mind also goes through the list of reasons why our eggs are better to eat than eggs outside of the house. Oh the guilt! The hormones and the bad lives of factory farms!

And I just didn’t like how it tasted. Plain and simple. Like grilled bacon with a hint of doggie smell.

Although she didn’t ask, I offered quietly, in between Other Subjects, ‘I’m used to our eggs at home.”

And being a total coffee snob, I wouldn’t even attempt to try to make good of what they had in the urn. Water is fine. Starbucks will greet me later at home made with French Press.

Next stop, the Mall! And what a surprisingly fun time!

Nothing out of the ordinary, just simple walking around, Christmas décor and window shopping. I swore that I wasn’t going to spend anything at the mall. I was going to be the Online Shopper with what little I do have to shop with. As it turned out, I found Humanling’s ‘BIG’ gift for a decent price along with a Kid Behind the Counter to answer questions about it. Major plus!
Mom also needed to purchase her hubby’s Christmas gift and seeing as it was on sale, Macy’s was on the list of required stops. She is tired of hubby’s Wolf Cries of wants for specific items that once obtained, are used about three times. She states that he’d BETTER (see look on her face below) use this ice cream maker and that she will NEVER EVER buy him anything that smells like an appliance again if it ends up like this unused meat slicer below.

While walking around a mall, you have to do crazy things….WILD things…things you wouldn’t do on a normal work day! So I talked her into having some ice cream caramel milkshakey type of shot in a Dixie cup. To make her a bit more edgy, we’ll pretend there was alcohol in it. But with her blood pressure, I’d say this was a pretty risky move, so maybe we CAN leave the brass knuckles out of it.

I’ve personally never seen a creepy Christmas ornament. Until this. I never ever want to see one of these materialize into real life. The vampire thing is different….I’m still waiting and putting wax teeth under my pillow for that one. But a Merman? Ewwwwww!!!!!!!! No legs? No um, JUNK? Merry Christmas…have a Eunich Fish with a Toolbelt!

Diner, mall, Merman….I wouldn’t have spent the day any other way. There are many lessons in life we learn the hard way. After seeing how dear friends don’t have their moms, I realize that I’m lucky to be able to hang out with mine. Moms are one of those things that you just don't appreciate soon enough. And every mom deserves a blog post. Happy Birthday Mom!

The Legend of Dorothy Hopkins

I don’t know how many of you enjoy playing those soul sucking and crack addition like games on Facebook but, Hello, my name is Dawn and I’m a Gameaholic.

I play my games daily. I look forward to a good Saturday morning when I can expand my farm and then take the time to move each and every chicken to a new location.

But in these games really all you need is Love….Love…Love is all you need. From Farmville or Frontierville or Ravenwood Fair Neighbors. Not just neighbors who started a farm and left it to wither away so that every time you visit them, you see the pink “hungry” markers above their animals’ heads. At that point, the markers really represent “starving” and you’re looking for the PETA option to thrust upon these irresponsible Farm Abandoners.

Along the way you may be “friended” by people who want your Neighbor Skills and Loyalty. People who want to swap gifts as much as possible to meet goals. People who want to ….visit your farm!

And there’s nothing wrong with that. You may become friends who eventually write something on each other’s walls. Or not. You might just show your unwavering dedication by simply swapping and visiting daily.

While checking out your friend’s wall however, there are times you will look over your friend’s shoulder to see that they have this other dedicated Game Friend. And you notice this Game Friend’s name every day. Meaning, they are quite attentive to the game and willing to share the goodies. You don’t know this person and you want to. You want them to send you nails and bricks. You want to get bushels from them. You want to ….Feed Their Chickens!

But you wonder….Will this reflect strangely on me if I contact this third party and name drop our mutual game playing friend and ask Third Party if they want to chill out with me night after night, swapping animal feed, holiday lights and baby turkeys? Will my current Game Neighbors feel slighted? Or will they widen the circle, and step back so we can all hold hands together?

But the thirst for the Game and Devoted Neighbors is too strong. Facebook Email Sent.

This was me. Just two days ago. I won’t use the real name here because her name is way too cool and distinct. But I saw it all over two of my Game Neighbors’ walls….the gifts, the visits, the Dedication! Finally, I contacted her…..and she accepted my proposal. Finally, the name I’d been seeing daily that was disconnected from my game, was intermingled amongst my normal cast of characters on my Facebook wall! It was a breathtaking moment to behold and see that I now have a pact with one more Player of Substance!

However, it may have come with a price.

Remember, the real name isn’t used here. But I did rather enjoy saying her unusual and cool name out loud….so much that Honey is doing it too. Only we’ve invented an accent to go with it as well. Imagine saying Dorothy Hopkins. Now say it like this – Dahr-Ah-Thee HoP-kins. We’ve invented some old school bowling alley accent in Queens for this name. It rolls off the tongue.

After I enjoyed being privy to Dahr-a-thee’s farm and gifts, I eventually went to bed. And had a nightmare. Hannibal Lector was locked in the basement where I was staying. He sat upright in a chair, his wrists bound. He was dangerous and seemed pretty darn uncool about his situation. A woman came down to check on things and also decided to fill the Wall Mount Type Hand Soap Dispenser with sweet potatoes….as it was attached to a large crib, where an elderly person slept.
Eventually Hannibal got loose (Naturally. It isn’t a great nightmare unless you can’t scream, run or be completely safe.) I happened to be in the kitchen area looking at the basement door (think kitchen set up from A Christmas Story). Only the top part of the door to the basement looked like an oven door – glass and see through. And…..with a reddish light behind it – illuminating Hannibal’s face behind the door! He slammed the door open, as quick as a Venus Fly Trap on an unsuspecting insect and hit The Man of the House (whoever that was – one of those Dream Prop People that you don’t know but is assigned to a role) with it, then grabbed him and pulled him into the basement. WHAM! Just like that! And I knew he wouldn’t be back. I walked the downtown area with my daughter in the cold, avoiding going back there but knowing we had nowhere else to sleep.

Dream over. And I wake to a Sunday, full of gaming possibilities! I had to think to myself though, why….why would I have this dream?

Humanling and I ran out to the store eventually today. On the way out of the store, we were walking behind a rather tall truck in a parking spot. I kept my eyes on it as I’d noticed the reverse lights going on and Humanling was closest to it. Sure enough, she started to back out and in my Super Zero efforts to protect the innocent, I instead whapped the innocent in the eye, full force with the back of my blue gloved hand. That particular play was meant for me to protectively reach to corral her in my arms. Instead, she yelled, really loudly.

Once we got home, she was finally speaking to me just a little bit (that whole deal with wanting hot chocolate with marshmallows will snap a kid out of it). I hate making 2nd trips into the house with bags and loaded up with all of them. Unfortunately the kid at the beer store gave me a flimsy plastic cobweb to hold six 16.9 ounce glass bottles. Two of the depressed ones tried to leap. I caught one. The other succeeded, a foamy death on the driveway blacktop.

And it leads me to wonder….is this a karmic gaming trade off? A steady Pig Slop partner for the price of an Otherwordly oven cannibal, glove slap to the kid’s eye and Angst Ridden Tall Cold One? is it all worth it for the glory of my newest Gibraltar-like acquisition for the game?

Nothing that a dream catcher, a mug of hot cocoa with mini marshmallows and a better grip can’t fix. You betcha. Dahr-A-Thee Hop-Kins.

My (and Your) Space

Our computers are set up side by side….Honey has a regular monitor set up and mine a laptop. There are all sorts of particulars that go along with this arrangement.

*Eating - There is barely enough room to slip two dinner sized plates onto the desk. We squish plates our plates up there, his mouse shoved over to the far ends of the equator. The dog sits like a golden isosceles triangle in Beggar stance behind us hoping to lick the plates clean enough to leave that slimy film on it. Sometimes someone has to resort to picnic status and type with their plate in lap. There are also many instances when suddenly looking upon the black desktop, amongst all the dust and sprinkles of animal hair, are tons of late night potato chip shrapnel. Only annoying if it wasn’t you who did it.

*Sharing (aka Distractions) – This is that intention that the road to hell is paved with. One of us in always in Thinking Mode. Which evitably means the other one wants to say something or show off some Absolute Gotta Pass It On NOW story, paragraph from an internet page or Facebook status. He is either playing chess or reading an article. I am reading something, playing games on Facebook, researching for my radio show, trying to type an email or write something blog worthy. I know, I usually fail. However, those are the times that I am about to hear the entire chess path playout square by square predictions. I know how to play chess and I can usually figure out a move or three ahead of time. However, Honey can figure out 20 of them and I will readily admit that I’m Just Not That Into hearing any play by play of something that I’m not obsessed with. I like to try and Beat Streaks on ESPN (and have figured out that I’m really better at it than I could possibly imagine – and have the longest streak in a house that includes a die hard sports fan). However, because I am playing Streaks, it doesn't transform me into an a Fan of Every Sport. I still really don’t know if you are talking to me when you yell at the tv. Even as I write, there is another demand of “You gotta check this out”. If I were an owl, it’d be less of a trifle. The tv is directly in back of me. However, the only “Hoooo” in my vocabulary is when I’m unsure of the person in topic. I will admit this – Honey is the best and most accurate house Sports Announcer there is. But being the focal point in the audience is pressure. I’m not sure if he’s actually asking me or the refs behind the glass HOW that can be a penalty or HOW they didn’t see the Face Masking. (All of this is usually not spoken softly. My defensive posture of contracted body in front of computer does not usually flag my mate into realizing that I am not really threatening as I play Farmville and I finally feel the need to ask “Are you talking to me?”

On a Sunday morning, as I stagger out of bed, get a nice hot cup of yummy coffee and sit down to my computer, I realize that I can only play PC games instead of read anything. Why, you ask? Because I’m going to hear word for word, an article from the NY Times. And then I’m going to get a commentary for every sentence he reads. With it comes a stressed out, angry tone…not at me, but at the subject matter, usually politics, which I care about but not this early. I want to RELAX and wake up and simply take in reading material that I’m interested in. If you are talking to me at my most brain available time simply to preach to the choir then I am most likely not going to be reading what I want. Then I will get lost in PC games so that I can keep up with what is being said. And I can’t even do that. Talking to me deeply about politics is sure to disappoint if you are looking for more than a couple of sentences as a response. I have my ideas about politics and definitely don’t understand why it seems so difficult for republicans to play nicely in the sandbox with everyone else. But I don’t want to hear every detail and the facts and figures first thing in the morning. My morning brain is not the same as his morning brain. This is what HE thrives on. I like to wake up on a somewhat positive note. By the time he is done, I need a half hour of deep breathing, 2 hours of yoga, a brisk walk around the block and then a double martini in order to bring my cortisol levels down.

*Arguments (aka Disagreements) – Comfort level set on: Yeeeeeeaaaaaaah. See computer set up above. Imagine sitting this close to someone and nicely parallel playing. This does nothing more than put a person in the interrogation room and all intentions of civilly playing games while attempting to Silent Seethe are moot.

*Idosyncracies – This goes on every day. He cracks his knuckles. A lot. There are a few things that I never learned as a kid – intentionally belching, armpit farts and knuckle cracking. My virginal knuckles crack by accident if banged and then for half a second, I’m a baby about it. I think it’s gross, even in my own body. His are like bubble wrap. Easily cracked and in a swooping Dominos Toppling Against Each Other type succession. I shiver inside every time. What I don’t do inside is keep words – my complaints range from the heavy sigh and disgusted look at subjected knuckles to asking “Why do you have to do that?” I get the same scientific answer every time so really, asking is just for the sake of announcing my level of angst over the sound.

That being said, I have my own Annoying To Be Near quirk. I shake. My legs bounce. If my legs are crossed, my foot bobs up and down. I shake his computer monitor even without touching the desk. I’ve done it since I was a child, as have my uncle and my brother both. Like a dog’s bark, it has many tones of meaning from Simple Energy Release to Nervous. (To dispel the myth, it does not mean that I have to pee or that I have untended to sexual tension).

*Privacy – I’m sure a very short explanation, if any, is needed here, given all of the above. Sitting side by side. It isn’t that I have anything to really hide. It’s that I might rather be comfortable writing what I will write without judgment or question, or opening up a can of worms the size of Eels with a strictly McDonalds diet. If someone looks over my shoulder, purpose or accident, while I’m writing, it will affect how I write. I am not one of those people who is comfortable with an audience while I type. It doesn’t make me shady – just self conscious. And I suppose there are times when you don’t always keep the Velcro attached at the hip and are indeed miffed with your mate. Those times are good to blow off steam to a friend in an email frenzy, fingers smashing the keys in record time. This alerts the Vs party that I am possibly maybe writing about the argument. To which a person can waft and float across the room over and over to peek over a shoulder or so in order to see how your side of the story goes, thus whipping a match out of pocket and igniting it all into further issues. Nope, I don’t do well with an audience during creation time.

*The Good Stuff - Granted, there are some positives to this arrangement too. But those are simple and require merely a sentence. Convenience to sharing when distractions are welcome, being close enough to put a hand in hand or rub the other’s shoulder briefly. Convenience for a kiss, an innuendo or to show off a sports score or new Farmville SnowCone Tree, ready for harvest (they really are quite pretty!).

So while I try to get it right, managing the distraction side of sharing, I will continue to trot on down the Facebook game app mode, to attempt to free my mind for what Honey wants to share.

Seasoned

I believe that I love happily ever after. I’ve never done it but my guess is that anything with the word ‘Happy’ in it has to bring some benefit to the table.

I’ve had it offered to me a number of times and just like the mysterious Curtains 1-3, you never know what’s really behind them until you choose one.

Just yesterday morning, I had been thinking a lot about this very complicated relationship. Pros, cons, nostalgia of this soul being my first real kiss – the inexperienced, sloppy and hours long kind. The time we used to spend at ages 12 and 13 in elevators (stop button with our fingerprints all over it) making out. Or the movie theatre. Or literally, a roll in the hay, as we had access to a barn.

But are we more than just that primal underlying attraction as adults? It seems sometimes that the only area of our life we wouldn’t even think about complaining about would be the path of the barn. At times it seems that anything else is a war cry. Words about parenting, money, the messy house, who is using how many burners on the stove at a given time - Somehow leaves one person’s mouth and cocoons then completes a metamorphosis into a totally different creature before ducking into the ear of the now offended one.

Yes, people go through this. People who had married since before Abe Lincoln studied by a candle flame. BUT….what shade of red flag do you have when it happens intensely and frequently within a relationship that is merely a year and a half old?

Jumping into something was so very easy. Even if I had put any thought into moving in with my mate as quickly as I did, my body would have already packed and driven everything here without my cerebral help. It was magnetic and felt absolute.

Pondering when there are problems is another story. It’s not quite as easy to think straight about breaking the wine bottle on the bow of Ship I Guess It’s Better We Found Out Now. Because when do you really ever know? Does the flashing Game Over sign on your deathbed finally reveal the ‘right’ choice? How much do you have to try? And then some folks will say you shouldn’t HAVE to try so hard if it’s ‘right’.

Ah. BUT. Most of the wonderful wise elders in our society will open their creaky closets and share their secrets with us if we just ask. That it really WASN’T all that easy, although you’d never realize it from the outside. That this seemingly adorable old couple never even had an argument about margarine vs. butter. We’ve found out through opening up to others that even THOSE couples had their Dark Night of the Couples Soul. They hung in there through commitment, got through it and are honest enough to say that it sucked but it passes and they are glad they worked through it.

If you otherwise are into your mate and aren’t merely out to trade in for a newer used model then you’re in luck. You already know their rusted crannies and they know yours. You already realize that even if you do think their farts are rosey, they do come with thorns. No big surprises there. What is needed then seems to be new ways of learning, perceiving and a commitment to try to be mindful of the other person instead of being trapped in what is making YOU and ONLY YOU uncomfortable or hurt. Otherwise, you might throw away that Other Person’s Treasure that really you could have happily been with. There’s always a new person out there to scale for new land mines with exploding baggage. Sometimes people just give up too soon.

On the flipside, if you absolutely see nothing about your relationship that works for you or you feel icicles gleaming on your special parts when your partner tries to be affectionate to you, then well, maybe it is time for Greener Land Mines.

I thought about our own relationship and our issues that we’ve allowed to inflate. I remember when we laid eyes on each other, how I felt after our first meeting after 25 years, I still remember the drive to his house for the first time knowing it was going to change my life (and now I live here too). I remember that first night of sleeping next to each other – his arm around me, never leaving me for an instant all night.

Those are the things that soften the edges of hurt.

I thought about how everything was flavored, sizzling, crazy energy, exhilarating….how we were like a savory sautéed dish! And how we allowed ourselves to eventually morph into boiled cabbage.

I don’t want boiled cabbage. Not on my stove ever and definitely not metaphorically.

It’s easy to get bogged down and find nothing but unsalted, boiled cabbage. The elders are correct then in my opinion. It is more work to create a tantalizing, gorgeous and enjoyable dish.

You are Invited!

I'm not sure where to sit. I don't normally frequent these kinds of parties but I've ignored the invitation long enough! Head of the table? I'm the guest of honor? My very own Pity Party!

Yep. I'm usually quite a sight, bobbing around in the waters, buoy that I typically am. (And it's fun to say Buoy outloud. Try it....no one's listening! Say it or you have to leave my party without a favor bag!) I noticed yesterday though, there was a rather large foot sized cloud stomping on my usual lightweight vibrance of energy.

My mate has been out of work since January. Health reasons. Hip Surgeries. Lyme Disease. Recurring Lyme Disease. And a photo spread for next month's issue of Unemployed Now Because Of: Hernia Surgery.

That's all understandable. I have no beef with the ill. I do from time to time question procrastination issues, such as actually calling to see if he qualifies for disability or if he is going to continue to wait for Ed McMahon to reassemble himself from the dead, knock on the door and hand him a new financial life.

He's been in a funk lately and I'm sure many of you have experienced a depressed loved one. (They usually taste better slightly braised than seared.) Either way, you take the moments as best as you can and hope that what just came out of your mouth was uplifting instead of another bullet point on their list of self-loathing.

I thought I was doing a pretty decent job of financially crossing t's and dotting i's around here with just my salary to umbrella three people.

I shouldn't think. It leads to things like unicorns and star colored scene sets where everything talks to you.

I walked around Trader Joe's yesterday to pick up the usual things that are highly coveted around here. Trader Joe's is an incredibly reasonably priced store. I feel like I'm stealing when I read the more wholesome ingredients and the price is just as good as those 2000 pack of partially hydrogenated this and that cookies at Walmart.

Our budget is so tight right now and we're a month behind on the rent. The rent is the main focus. The brakes on my car are so tense about life that they are grinding heavily. The electricity will need paying at the same time the rent is scheduled, along with the wave of my magic auto wand that will fix my car.

I stepped into line and surveyed the current layout of the endcap nearby. Candy coated chocolate mints, chocolate dipped star shaped cookies and hot peppermint cocoa in a beautiful green tin. Yes I know there is a theme here. But I was brought up in the land of the brave, the free and the chocolate food pyramid.

The depressing part was actually not picking up the tin of peppermint hot cocoa. I imagined how much my 11 year old would love some hot chocolate and how delicious it would be. The price was a mere $5.

Just five dollars.

That I couldn't spare.

This lead me to flick on my flashlight for a clue to my current reality. The Christmas tree we bought last year was over a hundred dollars. This year it is all we have to keep gas in the car, food on the table, a roof over our heads and some presents for my daughter.

The tin of peppermint hot cocoa that I can't afford tips it because there is no fallback. I'm it. I'm staring down and up the rope from this toothpick juttance of a cliff and see no one else.

So sit down with me for a moment and let's get it all out. It gets better after we stare it in the face, point and tell it how much we don't appreciate a visit. Then we move on. Somehow.

Feel free to gripe in the comments section for today is the day! We'll get back to our regularly scheduled smiley faces tomorrow.

Use Your....Im-A-Gin-A-tion

If you’re a coffee drinker, you’ll understand this post like you understand how if you say something slightly negative about your own mom, it’s ok, but if someone else does they’d better join the witness protection program.

Note: When I use the term Coffee Drinker, I don’t include people who are ‘experimenting’ with cold, flavored coffees with whipped cream and a handful of powder for your chaffed ass. I’m talking about As Strong As You Can Get Without it Tasting Burnt. I’m talking I’d Grow Curly Yet Silky Chest Hair From It If I Weren’t a Woman, strong. I’m talking My French Press will Kick Your Filtered Mr. Coffee Crap’s tush right back to Columbia.

I can only really drink the coffee that we make here at home. Not true. I really only WANT to drink the coffee we make at home. We use Starbucks, whole bean coffee. We have our favorites and none of them are under the radar of “Bold”.

Due to proximity and not jazzed about driving out of the way by a half hour to pick up a bag of coffee, I chose a bag of “Medium” intensity Columbian Starbucks whole bean from the local Hannafords. I am truly grateful that Hannafords would ever bother to carry whole bean because it is clear by what’s on the shelf that this is an incredibly Do It For Me world, roads everywhere paved with bags of Ground Coffee.

All that was really left was Columbian. Huh. Okay, we’ll try that. I squinted critically at “Medium” but put it in the cart anyway.

Admittingly, I used to be a Dunkin Donuts junkie. I also had my starter coffee days in my early 20’s when it had to be light and disgustingly sweet, flavored if available. AND it had to come in a Styrofoam cup with that pink and orange logo.

Blech. Never again unless I wake up on DD island with no oars to escape.

Ok, Columbian Starbucks. Show me whatchya got.

Not bad…a bit light for my taste but not bad. But I have a way of dealing with these types of caffeine related dilemmas.

I PRETEND. I pretend that I am at someone’s house and that they have offered me a cup of coffee and this is what I was given. Usually I can handle coffee at someone else’s house because that’s what they have. THAT’S IT. It’s a wonderful gesture to serve a guest coffee and that makes it even more palatable. Perhaps it’s a survival mechanism. Or a Pollyanna-ish denial of reality. Or even just plain old overload of gratitude and needing a place to channel it.

Either way, it helps the medicine go down!

And this one wasn't planned, but if you look up 'coffee bold' in Google Images, it's what showed up. T'aint my fault.

They're Playing My Old Dream

Ever have a dream that incorporates a song? A song that isn’t even your favorite and you don’t consciously think that you identify with?

Experience had, circa 1995 or thereabouts.

I was living with a pretty pop cultured guy at the time….enough that he rivaled my own knowledge. He was also heavily into sports…one of those things that I didn’t quite understand, seeing as I mostly dated musicians and the succession of them didn’t seem interested in cleats when there were drumsticks and guitar strings to be tinkered with.

I woke up one morning to find that I’d been tapped in the dream by a Kurtis Blow song. I turned to my then mate and told him that someone on the sidewalk was singing “They’re playing Baaaaaa-sket- Baaaaallllll” to me. He laughed. Until he realized that there was the possibility, at my insistence, that this song truly existed Out There. And that he didn’t know it despite the duality of being a Rap Master AND major basketball fan.

I couldn’t prove it as we’d never heard of the internet. I just had to wait on blind faith that eventually the song would someday to him, be served.

Well. Fifteen years later, just in case the song hasn’t made its way to him personally, I’ll put it out there universally.

FYI - see if you can note probable video style differences between 1995 and 2010. Hint: Too many sheep used in 1995 where floss would be used now.

At Least I'm Not Always Talking to Myself

My daughter and I finished doing a little food shopping yesterday and were going to put the bags in the car. Sometimes people park intimately close so that you feel like you're suddenly feuding family.

An elderly woman, with her own daughter (who I surmise is the architect of the parking job), saw how close we were and seemed concerned, but friendly, about getting into her designated vehicle.

I assured her that I would hop in my car real quick and pull out so she could get in.

Keeping my end of the social quandry bargain, I jump in the car and pull out.

I hear Humanling's deadpan tone: Talking to an old lady?

Me: Yeah. Have YOU talked to an old lady today?

Sam: No.

Me: Well then.

And let's just say Kudos to the kid for not answering in the weisenheimer way that I would have as a child, with "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

You're a Positive One, Mr. Grinch

All of the Not Wanna Go Somewhere’s in the House say Yeeeeeahhhhhhh!

Hello?

Is it just me?

Thanksgiving day is indeed a day to gather with those you want to spend time with. And those that you feel you HAVE to spend time with. And those that you wouldn’t see any other time but the family is hovering over you with nine shades of guilt if you don’t show up. But that’s not me….I heard about it through a friend.

For me, the one thing that must happen, is the viewing of Santa Claus at the end of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. An absolute must. Otherwise, the opportunity is gone for a full year! And no other Santa will do…not the Salvation Army Claus’s, not the one at the mall (who really is a fabulous replica!), nor the one that shows up at various craft fair events. It must be the REAL Santa…the one that I see on the TV after Kanye West sings and Spiderman floats past.

We all have our different ways of spending Thanksgiving and what it means to us. Some people have Ground Hog Thanksgiving and it’s the same year after year and that’s what makes them happy. Some people flit around from year to year taking it as it comes and riding the wind surf.
If you haven’t guessed, Inevitable Regeneration is about the latter. The glittery wind surf. The seat of the pants on fire from all the flying!

I admit that this year I thought it would be cool to hang home with humanling. It’s been such a crazy week of work and overload at my job that I thought staying at home would be awesome. Cook a vegetarian feast, wear pretty dresses to the candlelight table and relax! That was my plan and I was sticking to it!

…twas not to be. I have a problem living with Aftermath. I don’t respond well to any type of guilt and have even been accused of wearing the best Guilt Armor there is. To me, guilt is nothing more than trying to get your own way when reason isn’t working. In order to avoid the massive delay in enjoying the four day weekend, reason won over with me….although it wasn’t reasoning from my mate. It was reasoning with myself that YES, I can create an ultra special vegetarian Thanksgiving with my daughter, just me and her at home, BUT….when honeypie comes home from the relatives house, there isn’t going to be a joyous moment for Quite Some Time. And it will become a encore in future arguments, rearing itself again and again as Proof of my emotional black hole.

So I went! And it went as I thought.

Did I feel incredibly carsick on the way there? You betcha!

Was I told that there would be no animal product in certain foods and then eat it only to find out that there was? Absolutely!

Were there odd moments of noticing that of all the couples there, my mate and I were the only ones not sharing an iota of affection and that I had to hear at least three stories involving ex-girlfriends? Kinda sorta. NOT! The answer is Positively affirmative!

How. Ever.

I did not feel carsick on the way home. The darkness probably helped.

The turkey broth in the stuffing was so minute that it didn’t matter.

My mate eventually came out of the bathroom and reached for my hand (after washing HIS, hopefully!)

Dessert was incredible with apple crumb pie nestled next to a blob of delish vanilla ice cream!

And many many laughs were had. Me included.

And … I won my ESPN Streak for the Cash pick. Dallas lost. By three points.

Holidays ARE compromise AND fun AND stressful at times. But anything can be overcome with good dessert.

I fully recommend Wind surfing and enjoying it.

To Feed Or Not to Feed....

~ I will not eat that slice of pumpkin pie yet!

But I can just taste it!

A day at work and a rare doubly sinful treat – I bought a slice of pie with lunch.

My rationale: it is Thanksgiving week. Pumpkin pie is atmospheric! It’s empowering to the fall season! To the week of Thanksgiving!

And now it waits for me in the fridge. Anticipation with one squirt of whipped cream!

Who doesn’t love a little delaying of gratification?

Give yourself a moment to desire….and then give in!

The Well Worn Path of Insanity

I have marvelous friends in places I’d never have thought to look under.

Today was an especially trying day….I originally wanted the day off and in the middle of an incredibly busy week, successfully snatched it! Only to start the day off with my mate a bit nit picky on my Humanling for no reason that I could really validate….and boy, do I like to validate. It just seemed like he woke up on the wrong side of the barbed wire and although I could get away, the child couldn’t.

That there is what I call an Unfortunate Situation. Simply because mamas usually don’t enjoy watching their babies getting chewed up or out. Especially for reasons that are beyond the veil.

I spoke up and in this house, if you speak up for your child, you are subscribing to that magazine known as “Dividing the Household”. Sure you are! It says so on page 6. Don’t try to have an opinion, just know that whatever your thoughts are on sticking up for the child, you have committed the parting of the red sea straight down the family dinner table. Now repent.

I did something that I don’t normally do in this instance. I decided not to stay home and “enjoy” my day off full of fighting. I packed up, put up my dirty hair, and took my unbrushed teeth to work after dropping off my bundle of tweenness.

I then spend the day attending several Mind F**k events including, but not limited to; The Phone Rings every 15 minutes because your angry mate is calling (again), Email Wars and Your Mate has Called the Main Line to See if you are Lying and Not Really At Work.

That last one….a possible dealbreaker. High on my scroll of “Uncool” items.

What I did learn throughout the day was this ~ my friends have opinions. And one pipeline from brain to brain. None of them wavered from another with where they stood – and these were all separate conversations. A couple of them even offered me a place to stay with my not so innocent but definitely adorable Humanling. And for that, my body relaxes for a moment. I have options. I have friends who are willing to give me the key to a new life if I so needed it. It’s an amazing feeling and not taken lightly.

It’s like Christmas for my thristy cells that want to open and breathe life and enjoy every moment!

So now the real thought is….do I bring in the Clash? Should I stay or Should I Go Now?

Blended families are a picnic alright…with fireants. I know they can work….people manage. But somehow here, it seems like the norm at best is a small resistance. He doesn’t like the way she does this that and all other things, and she in turn, resents him for calling her on every little thing and forcing her to fix it.

I am feeling more in the middle – and of course Rawr….Mama Bear.

Even tonight, as we are all in the house, creating our separate dinners, doing our separate things, I hear him from the couch, telling me that I am coddling her. That the after fight coddles are happening basically. As he cuddled with his dog on the couch. Why can’t I coddle her? Hasn’t she been through enough regarding self esteem, mental and emotional components not unscathed?

So he resorts to what he does during these things and turns the volume up on the tv quite loud. He enjoys drama movies…the kind with sudden bursts of noise, or perhaps a squeely violin moment. I hate those. I’d rather immerse myself in cartoons.

So I do what I wish I could most other times….wait for him to leave the room and hit the volume button lower.

Breathing in possibilities.

Forty Sit on my Bum

Dear 41,



Thank you.



Love,



Sarcasm.





Forty-one has started off quite strangely for me this year! Perhaps to keep me surprised and not thinking that just because I've gained another year, that I've gained foresight and an abundance of wisdom.



A couple of days before my birthday, we had a cupcake contest at work...one that involved a fog machine, cut wood, homemade buildings and everything you might think you have to do if you've ever watched an episode of Ace of Cakes. I must mention....we did a 10 second dance. From Thriller. I wonder if I should subscribe to Elderly Embarassment at this point since out of the four of us, three of us were in our 20s. I know, I rechecked my drivers license. I wasn't one of them.



The day was spent in a ridiculously hot conference room, with candies, cookies and all sorts of sugar incarnations surrounding us. I made a few killer werewolves that I'd committed to memory from the internet. It was a great time had by all! And the first day of Uh, What is Going on With my Body?



I spent the day in a sweat....my face a nice shade of beet. And although I am the Queen of All that hugs and loves a sugar droplet, on this day, I didn't touch a drop, but for a HALF of a Milano cookie. For reals.



The next day I noticed that I was hot and chilly.....sweating and shivering. And funny enough, maybe I felt a few weird pains in odd places...but wasn't sure.



I was sure two days later however, when I realized that even though I was at work and had plenty of space to work, I couldn't concentrate, would start heating up out of nowhere and then would go through teeth chattering alternately. After a number of pain zingers in my thigh, ankle, hip and wrists, I decided that since 2/3 of our home was being treated for Lyme disease, perhaps I wasn't as lucky as I thought.



One last zinger caused my finger to pop over to the telephone and dial my longtime doctor. 3:15? Leave work early? Well.....Ok.



When I got there I found out that I had a 102.7 fever (yes! Validation for leaving early!). Now being the day before my birthday, my doctor had a couple of fun things in mind to help me celebrate. First, a deep up the nose swabbing for a flu test. VIOLATED! Also, a blood test for Lyme (normally not an issue but either I was sensitive or this particular needle operator was NOT a smooth vampire). And then the red ribbon gift - ordered to stay in bed with fluids for the weekend. WHAT?!? But it's my birthday!



Even if I don't feel like getting out of bed, it's still my birthday.



What did I really want for my birthday? I don't know. I thought it might involve a marriage and a bookstore. Or a marriage TO a bookstore.



What it was though was as wonderful as it could have been for how crappy I was feeling. My mate gave me a wonderful 10 year old Bonsai tree with tools! I am so Mr. Miyagi! However, I didn't yet have the ambition to read the instructions or do much with it.



My handsome honey was then kind enough to somehow stumble on a great video about crows and watch most of it with me. I heart them and well, he has his reasons for viewing them as ominious creatures. We also caught a wonderful video of Steve Martin doing a song called....THE CROW! Talk about surprises....I had no idea that Steve Martin played the banjo!



I tried to take a walk with him and the dog but cried for much of it. In fact, cried a lot during this illness. Commercials, NPR, my bonsai, the neighbor asking me how I'm feeling....it all crumbled me to tears. I started to wonder who the hell kicked me out of my mind and body and took the controls.



Even my sleeping mind....nightmares. That someone was trying to kidnap me and that feeling of running, hiding, curling up under things. Trying to scream and no voice comes out. Nightmares about evil spirits posessing my body and floating me around a dark room. I suppose a major lack of control.



I am on doxycycline....even though my Lyme test also came back negative. I suppose the failure rate has something to do with it. But my shooting pains have not gone away.



In the meantime, I have this gorgeous 20 wk size tumor that graces my otherwise slender body. Like a garter snake that swallowed a pregnant bison. That's me. I'm waiting for folks at work to ask when I'm due as soon as I become terrible at sucking in my gut. And this thing wants attention!

Apparently in the last 11 months it seems to have grown more than usual. And then there's the bleeding that started a few days after I started enjoying my new relationship with antibiotics. This week, I will have another non celebratory ultrasound to take a look at my perfectly large, round fibroid.

I will say this ahead of time....I have no idea what is in store. I'm fairly young and usually optimistic...until left alone in my head! I did recently have a CBC and that was normal. Earlier this year, the first ultrasound displayed the same sphere of mass, and I was told it was fine.

I am searching for that silver lining....that thread that I grab onto in most, if not all, situations and decide that things are and will be fine.

As I hold out my hand toward this Friday, I'm pretty sure that I feel the sweet smooth thread, just waiting to expose how good things really are.

Blessed Samhain to All

A happy and magical Samhain!

A day full of small blessings ....

I decided that there would be no better day than today to plant my Queen of Night tulip bulbs for next spring. When they (hopefully!) peek through the ground next Spring, I will know that my beautiful black tulips were planted when witches, ghouls and goblins roamed.

Of course I needed to offset the beautiful color of these flowers with something....so I chose pink foxtrot tulips. At first I tried to create a pattern and then in normal fashion with my character, I ended up arranging them at the lighter end of mish mosh but nontheless, they will be breathtaking. My next manuver is to be sure that the deer do not feel the same way. As much as I like the deer and we've given them nicknames (Herc and Carver, from the Wire), they've already given us enough. We pull plenty of ticks out of humans, cats and dog around here, we don't also need to find headless stems where my Samhain flowers are standing.

After a fairly short round of trick or treating tonight, my Tween-A-Ling and I sat cuddled up in her bed. Naturally the dumping of the candy all over the table had already taken place and the pupils of both mama and child, quite dilated. Mmmmmm....chocolate!!! I asked her what she would like to be more of, starting tomorrow. I gave her a couple of ideas of what I meant and she hooked onto one of them.....Joy. More joy. And I second, third and fourth that into the sunset.

We have had a great time living with my mate in the last year, but my TweenerLing has also felt the unfortunate and negative feelings that arrive, luggage and all, with a blended family situation.

When she and I were just Us Girls, living in an apartment, we did everything together. Every hour was Girl Time. Every trip out was a possibility for anything. She now shares my attention with of course, my mate. And she has turned up the dial on how unhappy his presence makes her. He has tried desperately to work with this in a positive way....and at the same time, has never had a child scorn him so much. It hits him Emo AND Ego. Being the net between sides has been quite stressful for me. It is a situation in which everyone is stressed. Even when he tries to be fun for her, she stamps a huge RETURN TO SENDER and storms off.

With his own health problems and constant pain, plus the whole ego/emo thing, he can only be charitable and turn the other cheek so much. He will eventually lash out and it isn't pretty. The tiny wars between an adult and child are uglier than you ever want to see. There is no winner and nothing about it feels good.

Tween-A-Ling's reality has simply gotten more and more depressing. And I relentlessly worry. Between the medication she is on (black box) for her epilepsy, the antibiotics for a case of Lyme and her life being shifted from happy and all mom's attention to where it is now, I thought perhaps, with this new year's door being open tonight, we could make a pact of sorts.

Joy is the answer. You and I both need more joy. Let's do that. When I ask what gives her joy, the answer I get is naturally, Ice Cream. Ok, you can't have ice cream all the time, pick something else. I gave her my example....going to a bookstore and just chilling for a bit. That brings me joy. She offered me another Joy Point...Coffee. Yes, she is correct....it is coffee as well, every day. Twice a day usually. For her.....well....she can't figure it out yet. That's ok. We'll make a list tomorrow of what brings her joy. I hope she can truly find something in her heart that we both know for sure, is not merely a groups of words to answer my question, but a stepping stone - to a higher vibration for her.

Cozy Autumn Days

A well desired day off work! It is rainy and windy and yet 25 degrees higher than it should be this time of year for the New York/New England area. Perhaps a Halloween without millions of kids dressed as Burlington Coat Factory ads after all!

I rarely miss a day of taking pictures during the fall. Sometimes that involves throwing myself into situations where others just become so curious or concerned. When I happen upon a Must Have moment with the camera, the pull over rate of cars that see my car pulled over and me out of the car is rather high. And I have to say, there are some good people out there. All of them ask if I am ok.

Or are they asking if I am ok to have running around in society? Maybe THAT'S really it!

Today was one of those mornings. Humanling had a morning seizure, which guarantees her a mom-chauffeured life to school once she is up and feeling better. On the way back, I hopped out of my car....so many wonderful images to capture...with the ambience of morning darkness, rain clouds and autumn landscape! And...a car pulled over...

It is comforting to know that that in this area, for the most part, I won't have to panic if I do need outside assistance. But in the age of cell phones and individual privatization, we don't venture far out of our borders to extend ourselves or receive others in the form of many friends, nevermind getting to know new strangers. Unless of course, they have an avatar online.

My mate chuckles to himself frequently when I come home a few moments later than I said I would....Look at my new photos that I took on the way! Or... Come help me unload all this great wood I found on the way home! And I will gather any wood that I can lift, bugs scurrying all over it and all, in any shoes that happen to be gracing my attire that day. One of my former bosses passed me the other day, in platform shoes on a winding side road, carrying a huge log to my car.

"It WOULD be you." she simply said and laughed.

Today has been a mish mosh of nice things to do when home on a rainy day off.

~Enjoy an hours long round of Colonization (PC game) with the honey. Our 'cold' weather gaming habit. It isn't cold today but he loaded it regardless, and hoped to rope me in. He won.

~Have more cups of nice, hot and tasty coffee....just because we're here and that's reason enough to enjoy life's tastes and small moments

~watching the adorable tufted titmouse land on the feeder. Their eyes are just so button-like to me compared to other birds. They seem pretty comfortable around us if we are outside.

~A wonderful meal made of white beans, BBQ sauce, grapeseed oil and yes, topped with kettle cooked potato chips. Yes I did. It was good.

~Snuggles in between turns on our game. Drive by I love you's. And a hand on my back, rubbing it strongly enough to make me purr.

~Although the reason for it was a headache, a small siesta, in which I went deep into the well of sleep for a short while. Head feels much better!

~Waking up and knowing that the coffee was hot and simply waiting in the French Press downstairs. There it is, proudly adoring my space on the desk! Isn't it just so cute?! (No there's no photo for that but close your eyes and imagine it in the way that best suits you and makes your toes curl!)

~Some interesting research for my show today, Scorpion Equinox. I do loves me some good and progressive info! Honey might be my show mate today until my co-host shows up. If not, then I will have the fun and challenge of a solo show! Skill Testing time! (www.blogtalkradio.com/scorpion-equinox-)

~And for now...a moment of silence while mate walks his mom's dogs and I await his return in order for him to take the conch in our game. We never move each other's characters! Executive decision making in this case is an absolute no no!

Hope your present moment is exactly where you are most happy with it!

In the Present

Listening to old/newly released Dylan….

….a beautiful fall day outside…

….working from home….

….a wonderful day with my mate….

…coffee…

…thoughtful silence…

*Happy*

My mornings, once brightened with the glow of an online NPR Morning Edition stream, now seem cluttered and packed with MSNBC news. Not a bad news channel…preferable, in fact when compared to what else is Out There.

Unfortunately for me, the volume is usually two notches past Comfortable. The type of volume where you’d like to ask for it to be turned down, but *can* live with it for awhile longer, in the hopes that you will actually adjust to it. Kind of like when you are in bed at night and think you *might* have to pee but maybe you can live with the level of discomfort. Wait, that’s a possible bad example. I will usually get up so that I don’t lie there awake with both the discomfort, and also the fear of having *that dream* in which you are peeing and then will possibly wake up in a horrifyingly warm and wet self fulfilling prophecy.

Even more unfortunate is the amount of sleep that Mate obtained throughout the loud MSNBC blast with multiple reviews of the same story. I not only know today’s news, but I can repeat it loudly, a few times. He did wake up long enough to switch to the more enthusiastic (read: even louder) sports channel, and promptly, while sitting up, most likely with finger still on the remote (possibly on the Up volume button), fell back asleep.

Eventually the blob of protoplasm known as Man and His Dog, move to the bed. Our soundtrack continues to be the enthusiastic sports channel, with even more boisterous commercials. I turn around to see them lying on my side of the bed, dog, moreso. The mystery of why my side of the bed and blanket stink like dog has been exposed.

I am working from home and when I’m working from the office used to wonder a few things. Mate hasn’t been working since January, due to illness, surgeries, convenience (believe it or not during the summer when the Humanling was out of school) and now, what is considered by various doctors to be in the cauldron, a dash of post Lyme’s, a half cup of fibromyalgia, a block of IBS, hyper-mobility in the joints, AVN and before adding the lid to the pot, I’m going to add the opinionated spice of Too Much Attention To Aches and Pains. He can be well enough to garden, to take the Non Bed Freshening dog on walks and hikes, achieve 500 pushups in the morning and other greatest hits. Some days he is merely a pile of pain. Some days he feels great. With what I can see, it isn’t looking good for him to have a job anytime soon….unless the boss is a saint to allow him plenty of time to rest and lie around with a newspaper.

As I watch him sleep, my mind racing to things it shouldn’t. An example? No, I couldn’t possibly. No really! Well ok, maybe just one….

My mind starts to replay all the housekeeping lectures that I’ve heard. I need only turn around and see dust-bunnies that are the size of dust-Mercedes. Or the piles of stuff that need to be sorted through, or his sliding stack of mail that would be a hazard ski trail for a ladybug.

Now I can’t say for sure, but I suspect I’m slowly being driven to the outer regions of my sanity. One of the recent conversations that I had with someone involved this very strategy. And guess what – it wasn’t brought up by me! I thought she might have been a seer or stargazer, but as it turned out, she was merely listening to me talk. This is her hypothesis and it fits like a sanity-threatening glove.

I think it is time to take a break and go down and do squats. I’m a squat back-stabber. I happen to love squat results but hate the act of doing them. However, for now they are engaging enough to keep my mind from trying to jump the fence near the border!

The Ridiculously Angry Ice Cream Trip

The Ridiculously Angry Ice Cream Trip

Lenny and Lily had been arguing since earlier in the day. Lenny didn’t just plop out of bed into the wrong vibe ditch, he dropped a hole in the bottom of it.

The fight lasted all day, so that Lily left the house to take her Wee One out of Argument Alley. Lenny walked his dog.

Eventually after Lily spent most of the day away from Lenny, even within the same walls, she realized that she had promised Wee One some homemade ice cream from the local stand and that it would be closing within a week.

She sighed and mustered up the strength not to gag or be smug and went to Lenny.

Lily: I promised Wee One ice cream and it’s time sensitive. We are going today. You are welcome to join us if you like.

Lenny: I’ve been waiting to see if you were going to ask.

Lily: {thinking….what a trap artist….WAITING to see if I would ask? Can’t get much more passive aggressive than that} Ok.

Lenny: Well when are we going because I want to be back real soon {football was on}.

Lily: I told her she has to drink a full glass of water before we can go.

Lenny: {Lily couldn’t really hear what he was saying because she had started to go down the stairs with said glass of water for Wee One. She knew that Lenny was going to be uptight about the time and all she could think was …} you need to shut up if I’m going to get down the stairs with this glass of water in my hand to start the clock.

And yet….

Lenny kept talking. AND wanted to hurry.

Lily waited…glass of water in her hand. Sweat beads forming on her brain and glistening down her soul.

I can’t give her the water if you keep talking.

Lily decided commincation needed to change.

She slightly raised the glass of water and stared at it harder.

Lenny’s vowels and lack of punctuation created a definite obstacle between Lily and the bottom of the stairs.

Eventually, she succumbed.

Lily: I have to get this glass of water downstairs otherwise she can’t drink it.

Lenny looked annoyed, but Edith-fied and Stifled.

Lily and the water went downstairs.

Now the child does not drink fast most of the time, unless you give her something the equivalent of at least 10 teaspoons of sugar. By way of my very own composition, I also do not drink fast unless it is the morning after a ton of drinking and every single thing I can think of sounds good. I want a slurpee, root beer, orange juice, coffee, latte, rice milk, veggie broth, water, pureed carrots….

…..10 minutes later, Lenny walks into Wee One’s room.

Lenny: {in a time sensitive voice} Did she finish it yet?

Lily: {holds up glass that is still one fourths full}

Lenny: {in urgent time sensitive voice} It shouldn’t take this long to finish a glass of water.

As Lenny storm clouds off, Lily notices that there are tons of floaties in the water from the ice melting. She muses on this thought for a bit wondering what is it about our ice that causes a snowglobe in the glass when it melts? It even does this in scotch….

Lily gets up and dumps out the textured water and refills the glass to one fourth with fresh, clear water. Wee One finishes and Lily calls up to the impatient 2nd floor that :

WE CAN GO NOW!

And so Lily defiantly goes upstairs and announces that she will be driving.

And so Lenny complains that her car is simply no good. It is a messy, sloppy, filthy car.

Lily wonders aloud: What is it that you think is so messy in my car? The reusable shopping bags in the back and three water bottles?

Lenny insists it is messy and he will be driving his deceased stepfather’s car, which he has been driving for a month now.

Lily can’t possibly understand what it is about her car that deserves the brown ribbon award for the tones that Lenny gives. She checks to see…

…reusable shopping bags in the backseat….three water bottles….

Lily: What is it about my car that is so messy? I really need to know what it is that you think is so messy as to complain every single time my car is mentioned.

Lenny: {Peers into car, touches a bottle on the floor in the front and a receipt} This and this…

Lily storms over the Lenny’s choice of vehicle and stares …in her mind, her mouth is agape with horror…..

Dog leash on the floor, phone charger on the floor, starbucks empty coffee bottle, startucks empty coffee bottle over there too…..

Her mouth nearly swells with the swirling vortex of words that are begging to please come out and play. But she swallows them instead and thinks to herself …

I hope your tomatoes die.

They start to descend down the hill, Lily staring out the window in silence, trying to note all that the autumn paint brush has dabbed.

Lenny then unleashes the mental handcuffs and starts going back into the earlier argument.

Lily is suddenly reminded that sometimes people drown inside cars.

They get ice cream, she thanks him for paying. When at red lights he dives into inappropriate arguing topics with Wee One in the back seat.

Lily is severely ecstatic that her mind still goes unread and then feels slightly guilty about wishing death upon the tomatoes when she could simply wish that his tongue would grow thorns and stab the inside of his gums every time he trapped her into the net of unwanted conversation.

….And now instead of holding hands and bowing, they flip each other off and walk off opposite ends of the stage.