Inevitable Regeneration

Hide and Seek with Silence

2012-01-14T09:32:00.000-08:00

Gettin’ my personal space On!

So much reflection, now that I’m moving back to the House to re-live with my Honey. This tiny apartment has become a fabulous sanctuary. Not in the sense of hiding from anything or anyone…but more where the Soul Goodies are kept. This apartment has become that. It’s quiet, easy to clean, and devoid of the sounds of sports or politics. I’m simply in awe of the spirit lightness of this environment where most is drama free and there is room and time for sitting on the floor or not uttering a word for hours. For years I would watch the folks in Friends as they sat by a window, listening to a melancholy song, rain glossing and beading the panes. I’d think to myself, who the hell has the schedule for THAT? I have that schedule currently(if only the rain would insert the date into its own Outlook calendar). Well, to a point I have that schedule. I still have work and I still stay at our old and to be again, shared space some days of the week.

Teen-a-Ling and I do nest here on school nights generally so that we have our mornings without too much else going on. The third person is a help mainly. Maybe it is just the sense of silence first thing. It’s her and I and sometimes she really is so far from silent. She has radar that turns up her sudden inclination to have the Most to Say just as I start to read something. Right now though, all is wonderful. She has been practicing math in a workbook for over an hour. I downed a cup of Paul Newman Extra Bold coffee and had an apple and oatmeal. I moseyed out of bed near 10am since I decided to sit up until 2am talking to anyone else up at that hour on Facebook and littering my Grandbaby Daddy’s wall with music videos. Because I could. Because I sat in that poofy big chair that reclines with a double bourbon on ice and a laptop. I still have my Christmas tree up and lit and love it. I read in between communications as well.

I picked up Living With Joy and really started to get hints of That Special Feeling…that inspiration and hope that reveals the embers glowing deep within. It’s a book to be relished, to taste and swirl around rather than chug. I felt hopeful that yes, I am still here. The me that I have been missing really is still there. I believe we all get those tugs from somewhere higher that tries to pull us in a positive direction when we get stuck in the daily maze. My authentic self is truly tired of being hidden under the dirty clothes, the have to’s, the schedules, the Good Listener who won’t speak up and say she needs quiet space. So while I think that I’m steering, it’s now the wind subtly changing my course. My goal this year, my all encompassing major goal is to exactly live with joy.

This apartment has been a savior of sorts to my sanity. I’m going to miss it. If I didn’t love a man, I’d be happy here in this bright space with so much potential. I’m going to miss sleeping head to toe with my Teen-A-Ling. She has epilepsy and sleeping next to her puts my mind at ease that if there is a seizure, I know about it. Since we’ve been here though, she’s had very little incident. One seizure. Our lives are so calm here.

And going back, they will have to stay that way. My partner comes with more frenetic energy than I feel I can handle sometimes. His heart is gold and his flaws are those that are put upon any innocent soul. Life has gotten to him in many ways and he is quick to be rallied by Negative energy. He enjoys talking as he thinks, which is tough for someone like me who needs silence….barges of silence. His talking is merely for his own benefit in those cases and he knows this, but what he doesn’t realize is that while he’s helping himself, he is filling up the space that I have available to myself inside. It becomes filled and then needs to filter through so that I can try again to think my own thoughts. Being in this place has kept me in a space of thought that reminds me that yes, I am creative, yes I am passionate, yes I am intelligent. I tend to blame my lack of witticisms on being a parent or being busy or having a 40 hour work week. Really though, all I need is a lot of quiet.

As a result, even Teen-A-Ling is behaving in more advanced ways than she was. It’s been a good ride for both of us. So to this space I’m currently in for another week or so, I send gratitude and thanks.

Joy To the Me!

2012-01-11T20:35:00.000-08:00

*Clinkety Clink* (That's a few cubes bathing in my glass)

I thought about so many things today that would make for great fodder. But as life has it and my lack of Omega 3’s, I surmise, I don’t remember what they were.

I’m eating cold macaroni and cheese. Annie’s is the brand, and rice is the pasta. I don’t use milk. I use enough butter to coat the pasta so that it’s super buttery. It really doesn’t translate cold though. Now I know what my daughter has to eat a couple of times a week for lunch. She loves mostly all meals cold. I happen to agree with her when it comes to day old pasta with sauce….tortellini, spaghetti, any pasta with sauce (only not mac & cheese) is all great off a fork for random bites during the day.

We’re hoping for snow tonight. I actually swore off snow after the great Relationship Destroying Storm of October 2011. That one was so much fun for about 10 hours. The ensuing five or so days without power or heat was much less comedic and more or less ran along the lines of hostile. But tonight I am simply hoping that school is cancelled tomorrow. I used to bounce out of bed in the early morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed – annoying to many – especially after a good party the night before. Now I wish to not have to leave my bed before 8am. I wish it, but damned civilization has it’s time schedules.

I’ve become quite lazy in certain respects in the last year or so. I did work out tonight. Hula hooped while watching Suburgatory, which I believe counts. But I admit, I did not shower. I don’t want to wash my hair every day. And our shower set up would serve as a great prank for someone large and out of patience. I’m neither but still. There are somehow two shower heads and water trickles out of one with enough pressure to show wetness on your skin, while the other is hand held…the one that you really want to use. That one has no place to put it down however, so it can hang by it’s hose and spray all over the place or else you can McGuyver it into a steady position by using the shampoo rack.

So no. My hair is not clean. Not by American standards, anyway. I’ll take What is Not Washing The Protective Oils Out Constantly for $500 and no split ends, Alex.

On my way to and from work when I go into the office I pass a lake that is beautiful in every season. It’s pretty small as far as lakes go. It is the home of three swans. I’ve been watching them for a few seasons. There are the parents and then one “baby”, who is now the size of the parents, probably a teen, who is still gray. Whenever I pass the lake, I have to locate them before passing the lake entirely or else I feel weird. I wonder how many others track these swans on a daily basis as well. The lake finally froze over last weekend and when I’d passed them last it appeared that they were fine, sitting on top of the ice, but I couldn’t say for sure if they were on top of it or if they were frozen into it. So I obsessed about it over the weekend and started googling whether or not swans can freeze themselves into water. I’d always automatically thought that wildlife had this information down pat in their DNA, like figuring out how to procreate. But apparently I did find an article online about approximately 100 swans being frozen into a lake, needing human intervention. So I upped the ante on the worry fest. I was happy to note though that the swans are indeed fine. They bring me a lot of joy when I see them to and fro.

I did a little reading tonight, Sanaya Roman and Orin, “Living with Joy”. I read this book when I was about 22 or 23 and it was the second book to have a profound effect on me, the first being Fit for Life by Marilyn (and so and so) Diamond (can’t remember her hubby’s name). I bought the 25^th anniversary book of “Living with Joy” and wondered how it would feel to read it now. All these years later after so many relationships and highs, let downs, lessons and tip of the iceberg wisdom. Would it move me at all? I don’t know yet but one of my goals for this year is to exactly live with joy. I want that shite as a blanket! A sound system! An incense that fills the room! A drink! I want the oil that keeps my mind cranking out thoughts to be joy joy joy!

But I’ve discovered one block to joy. Your kid’s homework. Buzzkill! Working on that one.

I have joy today – my Christmas tree is up and lit still (I love little white lights), I enjoy my ride to work listening to music, seeing the (not Bella) swan family, talking to my guinea pigs, falling in love with trees – so majestic and powerful – and laughing at the banter of co-workers. A job! I have a job and it is the backbone of being able to live as I do. I have a mate who loves me and gorgeous daughters. And as much as I hate being the center of attention in any room, I took a hit today for my grandson, who’s picture was being marveled at. He is a Leo after all, so he would like this someday. I am a Scorpio who enjoys being appreciated, but more quietly than perhaps a Leo. Appreciate me enough to my face and rampant behind my back.

I may turn off the classical station that I have now but I’m not sure. I may just want to get a single of bourbon, leave on the music and sleepily read more about Joy.

2012 Tastes like Joy!

2012-01-10T20:23:00.000-08:00

Here comes the first sip of bourbon for tonight. I enjoy it with ice enough so that it all melts and combines smoothly together. Tonight I poured a double. I’m too lazy to want to get up and pour a second single when it’s eventually gone. I’m rather surprised at how much I enjoy bourbon. Actually, the bang of a surprise is that scotch tastes somewhat villainous in a bad way to me now. I used to enjoy scotch, night after night one autumn season a couple of years ago. The other night my mate brought home scotch for us to have again.

Sip.

NOPE.

Sip again.

And again.

I finished it so that I would show appreciation for Honey bringing something home for us to have. I did not want another. The next night I went back to Maker’s Mark.

So much talk of bourbon. Really, I had a therapy appointment today. She suggested that I write often. I already know this but I’m not doing it. I have a journal…somewhere. To me this is scary. That I have one and cannot locate it. That’s not like me to lose something of my own voice out into Anywhere. She’s right though…I should be writing. How else to find my own voice? To sit in my head constantly like I do, watching the Roaring Rapids of thought constantly go by without collecting some in a jar, letting it settle and figuring out what’s in there? Welp. That’s how I do.

She brought up a good point…to figure out who I am and what I want. Pretty basic stuff, right? Easy answer? Yes, for some people. I envy those people. People who carve out their vocation so early in life….they are born with it in their core, before they can even speak. It’s all there, in blood and spine and deep into every cell.

So the phone rang and I talked for over an hour. I may have lost my train of thought. But while on the phone I started to think about working with the raptors and crows. I’d love to volunteer at a bird sanctuary to see what it’s like.

I went to check the mail today and on my way to the mailbox, two crows remembered who I am (and they haven’t really seen much of me in 2 months) and did the swoop and land into a nearby tree. The posture of Feed Me. I keep peanuts in the shell in my car. They got to eat. Wonderful crows…they do remember. And once I throw the food down, I hear them call to their clan that Dinner…Is Served.

So who am I? What do I want? What do I feel really good about? Allow me to pour a small bourbon, get a slice of cake and drink lots of water and I will answer that.

Well I got all settled in and dropped my fork on the floor…..so I have to eat the cake with my hands.

Answer time. I loved my life in my 20s. At 22-ish I was learning more and more about spirituality. I read all that I could on Wicca. At 23 I was meditating nightly and it was something that I craved throughout the rest of the day because it was so good. I was creative, open, opinionated without apology. I would like to harness the best of the joy from that period of time and apply it to the life that I feel is right for me now. I’ve become rather wishy-washy over the last couple of years….not necessarily to the fault of my mate, but I moved into his home and his schedule. I let life dictate what it would. I stopped being outrageously me. My mate has taught me so much about so many things. So now I need to merge the worlds….being in his world and squeezing drops of mine in until the colors are balanced. He is doing a great job at helping me.

I want Spirituality. I want Meaning. Hunger for Knowledge….but not in vain….no the hunger must not lead to starvation, it must be fed and satiated. I want more of a life with the wild. With the animals. I am capable of enjoying people (in doses) and in general really do love and have compassion for the human race. Animals are more compelling to me. I really can’t ignore it. When I was six, the job that I wanted as an adult was Zookeeper. I asked my friends to join me but they didn’t want to clean poop….one detail that I hadn’t thought of. So back at that age, what I wanted was to take care of animals.

Well it is time to go read. I promised myself if I were good and wrote, that I would get to read. It’s quarter past eleven and I’m fairly buzzed. Maybe this will give me the heavy sleep and the clarifying dreams that I would so enjoy.

Beer Notes From October 1st - Shhhhhhh....

2011-10-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

A rainy Saturday morning. My favorite part of the weekend because it’s still an entire weekend in wait. The honey is downstairs making us french toast. His is really good. I can attest to that especially because I am not a fan of french toast. What I’m impressed with especially is that yesterday he went to our local grocery store and went looking for the uncut fresh bread loaves. They were out so he asked that one be ready for today. And it actually was when we went in this morning.

All at once as we were lying in bed was the cacophony of sound througout the house - the dog scraping up the couch cushions, trying to get comfortable, the Tweenaling desperately trying to coax a note out of the newly brought home flute, and the phone ringing all at once. If you’ve been following this blog at all, I think I’ve made clear many times my need for some silence. So I decided that it must be a reminder to me to be absolutely !ecstatic! that I have decent hearing.

Now I sort of write this part as a warning in the early part of the day and hope that it amounts to nothing. My honey seems to feel Not Heard. Today is his day to feel Unheard. And we all feel bad when we think not that no one hears us, but no one wants to listen. It’s not that I don’t ever want to listen. Just sometimes I want to hear what I’m thinking. I’ll admit that it takes effort for me to have even a borderline proper amount of listening skills. Many times I feel that my thoughts are completely overriding anyone who is speaking. Is that because I am selfish? Or is it because so often I have to pay attention to much outside of me, that Me fights back?

...Later on for Beer Time...

At this moment, I enjoy a mug of nice cold Eridinger beer. I’m enjoying a friendly spar of politcal cartoons on Facebook with people that I actually like despite the moat between our politics. I tell the honey about a new picture that I see of President Obama dressed as Urkel saying “Did I do that?” about the economy and he merely says “Mm.” That’s the sign of Not Listening. That’s the Winner and runner up to I’m watching a game, please stop engaging.

So I pour the very last beer into my mug. I’ve read the Wind and the Willows tonight to my Tweenaling…not because she requested it but because she somehow owns it. Must be due to one of those deliriums that Iexpereinced during a local booksale. I will usually snatch up everything in sight….especially if it reeks of Summer Reading List or Classic.

This is one of those beers that reminds me of the alcohol level of things that I don’t drink much anymore. As I exhale through my nose, I smell that strong alcohol smell, like when doing shots during a chess game. And for now, that’s a good thing.

I’ve just rescued what might be a 2nd fruit fly from my beer. But for all I know it was the same fruit fly who happens to enjoy a good German Hefe Weise beer. The silent 3rd one may have really been an herb from our garlic bread earlier. Or at least I hope so, otherwise I sawed one in half with my fingernail trying to determine what it truly was.

The Blah Ditty Blah Blahs

2011-10-04T04:47:00.000-07:00

This was my weather for yesterday during the wonderful foggy morning. I lightened up considerably by the afternoon, but if I didn't allow a clean window for anyone to look through, I'd be hiding. As our situation is that I am the one who runs out the door to a structured job, it does at times feel as though I am putting in so much of myself that I find my Soul Pockets empty at times during the day. That's when I start getting crabby and wishing that Borders would resurrect itself and burst out of the ground, cafe holding a coffee for me.

I do understand that my mate is "sick". Not falling over, hanky dangling from Woe Is Me hand position on forehead "sick - but basic always has something hurting or bothering him sick. He does 850 pushups four times a week. He carries the firewood in. You wouldn't know at all to look at him that there is a carnival of hurt going on. However, his focus is mainly on his symptoms, which are like a game of Whack A Mole. I think at times he overthinks them. That's not to say that they aren't there. I believe they are. But the focus is heavy. I hear probably more than 20 times a day what is hurting or what pain just shot through where. That I don't mind...it's good for someone to know. But when Tweenaling has a sudden pain somewhere and an Ow escapes her lips, he is quick to tell her she is being dramatic. This I don't understand from someone who is quietly saying Ow all day long.

So yesterday as I wrote the words below, I was ruminating through that garden of What I Can't Do. That burdensome notion of not being able to spontaneously buy a pumpkin for Tweenaling or a new outfit for her as she is growing like an Rgbh study subject! Sometimes I wonder how it change and feel sad for her as she constantly draws up new Christmas lists. I digress. This is yesterday's blog so I need to kick myself out and take my coffee to This Day.

Having a severe case of the Must Be Nice’s.

We chilled out last night, watching Part 1 of the Prohibition special by Ken Burns. We had bourbon and beer and a roaring fire in the fireplace. I dressed up in my 1920s garb complete with necklaces. The honey said that I looked pretty…so of course after a pile of hint dropping, I figured that after the show we’d get a little friendly.

(Insert Family Feud buzzer sound that signifies the Incorrect Answer!)

Ah, twas not to be. I can be as pretty as I want. The fact is, there were other things out that topped me in the Encticing category. Including football. Sigh. I guess that’s just a piece of life that my ego needs to skip past….sometimes despite best intentions, something else IS more riveting than me. Even THAT. Perhaps he didn’t have that on his mind to begin with and wasn’t even thinking about it as I was at the beginning of the evening.

For now, he is home, resting, watching tv, doing whatever. I am having No Job Envy at the moment. I know he is having a special day of sorts. Today is the anniversary of a very sad death in his family. But he would have spent his day this way regardless. It’s tough to barge out the door trying to get to There on time and then hear the relaxing yawn of *oh….I’m so tired. I took a nap but I’m still tired.*

Naps are not an option in this cubicle. So I windowshop in Haterville and try hard not to go in and buy anything.

When I got ready this morning I noticed that my face had another breakout from yet more foods that I should not be eating. I band-aid that much of the time with good foundation. However, the truth is right there staring at me when I wake up. I look like hell. And I guess lately I am feeling like it as in the sense of a good provider to her child. I make good money. But supporting a three person household on it is like a failing magic trick. The Tweenaling only grows up once. I become down when I think that she is not experiencing as much as she could be. Ah, parental guilt....the biological reason for that urge for action and change!

Beautiful foggy October Morning

2011-10-04T04:17:00.000-07:00

I was lucky to have accidentally slightly startle a blue heron on my way back to my car. He was graceful and seemed to fly with a beautiful sturdiness. He was so close during these photos - had I any idea how long I would get to see him for I would have snapped his handsome mug as well! Once in my car and driving from the lake I looked over and he was flying over the water, parallel to my car. Nature sometimes has a way of giving you extra when the camera is off.

October 2nd

2011-10-02T19:25:00.000-07:00

A chestnut cover already discovered by a hungry and resourceful fella....

The last of the beets from the garden...

The swamp during our walk today...

A lone leaf floating in the reflecting trees of the swamp...

A fitted birch sleeve, awaiting the proper wearer...

And just another beautiful byproduct of Autumn....

Colonocopies to Fruit Flies

2011-10-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

Writ on September 27th...

Ah. Keyboard buttons….my group of symbols to communicate gracefully or sloppily. Furiously or poetically. I miss writing. I really haven’t been doing enough of it lately. I think about it though. When I walk the neighborhood in the quiet dusk every evening, phrases dance together and intertwine, becoming sentences. Many times though, when I walk back into my house, with the frenetic energy of Times Square, the phrases let go of each other’s hands and scatter. Poof! Gone.

I should be working right now. I have the most valid hallpass through for why I’m not. Our internet is currently down. Again. This happens just about every day lately. I could catch up on some reading...I am of the personality to have a small stack of kindling that requires my reading it first before lighting it afire. The pressure of knowing the exact moment that our internet will kick back on and I can work again is slightly more than average. I need to check in with my cube peeps as soon as I can via email, having already sheepishly dialed my boss from my pre-paid cell phone.

I wonder why it is that when I sit down to write, my ideas have gone into an active game of Hide and Seek. They know that I am too lazy to seek them and like putting chilli in the toy box, it eventually rots, unfound. And yes, I’ve done that. When I was little I put chilli in my toy box and upon opening it much later found two (very large) bugs where the food was. I remember thinking that kidney beans transform into bugs and didn’t really ever eat chilli again. Although I do like kidney beans!

My mate is getting ready for another colonoscopy and is at the end of his patience level. He was doing rather well until having to call Comcast this morning. Now we sit in a cloud of him feeling bad that I’m not working because I’m driving him and am home instead of being in the office and me feeling bad that I asked him to call Comcast and see if they could just push that button that they always hit when they bring our stuff back on. They couldn’t this time so I managed to at least get Word open on my laptop.

I brought Tweenaling out this morning to the end of the driveway in my car to wait for the bus. I never let her just stand there. Too many news stories, too many attacks of the imagination for me to be ok with it. I realize that mine and my friend’s parents never coddled us so much. My mom had me driving my bike across town to park it at my friend’s house, then hop on the bus at her place. I was out of district and as long as I could get myself there, I could continue to go to school there. I was only 14.

I couldn’t imagine allowing this now. So we sit and wait at the end of the driveway, watching the sun change hues against the landscape, moment by moment. I rolled the window down today and called out the window “HELLO CROW!”. Within a minute, one of my winged friends came zooming in to land expectantly in a tree in front of us. They are always rewarded. I hopped out of the car, baggie of peanuts in hand and after some morning salutations, put down some goodies for him. As I was walking back to the car, he called to his clan. “HURRY THE HELL UP! PEANUTS, Y’ALL!!! WE HAVE PEANUTS! WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU GUYS THIS MORNING???!”

Or something like that.

Then we flipped back to the Vogue magazine that I keep in the car. We look through the photos together, me pointing out compliments to all the eye goodies. The sunglasses that would look good on Tweenaling, the guy wearing a long, gray skirt, pretty dresses. And of course, try to let her know that the purses she sees in here….they’re all untouchable. Why on earth would someone pay that much for a purse? I’d need a protective bag to put that purse IN so that it wouldn’t touch bathroom floors or the floor of anywhere.
*
The other day I’d noticed that there were little fruit flies inside of the bag of bread we had sitting out. There was some condensation and the bag next to it had no flies and was dry. I could swear they were bought at the same time but the mate says they were not. (I still think they were because bread molds fast around here and neither were moldy). I wondered how the flies got inside the bag. And why. They are usually all over the fruit. Why in the bread bag?
And because I can’t just throw stuff out…and obviously the mate can’t either because we both knew they were there, we waited. I did open the bag a couple of times to try and set some self-sacrificial flies free, but was not 100% successful. We waited. Eventually the timer went off – DING! MOLD! Finally! Mold means I can throw it out now. It is officially bad. The declaration of We Won’t Be Eating This For Sure has arrived. Only now I couldn’t just throw it out with the twistie tie on it. I opened the bag and placed it at the topmost part of the garbage. I gave enough space for anything to fly out. I felt better about this as whenever I’d throw something out, flies would fly out of the garbage when the top was lifted. I can’t kill things. I think it is this: if I left the bag tied, I would have sent those fruit flies to certain death. They would die in an evermoistening plastic bag in a bigger plastic garbage bag and eventually would just be within two bags, unceremoniously dead, in a dump.

However….if I open the bag, giving them the chance to try and make a change of what Seemed To Be, then the outcome is at the most, unknown. I did not knowingly trap them anymore. By opening the bag, wide and seeing them fly out of the garbage, I felt better knowing that while I didn’t know what would happen to them now, their fate was not necessarily going to be what I saw when the moldy bread went into the garbage bag.

I think too much.

But it’s a horrible waste of my conscience to mull over these things when I can do the easy thing and give the living a chance to find their intuitive way to survive.
Or maybe I could just be like other ‘normal’ people and not give it any thought at all. Just throw the bag out. No waste of the conscience budget on that one.

Images of October 1st

2011-10-01T15:14:00.001-07:00

The very last of the tomatoes...

My Azrael doing her best to be a storm cloud in the wind....

Simplicity in black and white

The beauty of autumn flowers!

Happy October 1st!

Change of the Same Plans

2011-06-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

My cat kept assembling and re-assembling herself on top of me this morning at an early hour. Tail swooshing by the mouth (huge Eww factor), delicately but firming placing cool little paws on my face to get my attention. The animals in this house do not allow for late sleep.

The starling is such a sleek and gorgeous black bird, I am noticing as the morning sun hits him just right. The animal kingdom scatters such beautiful eyes in various species.

Ah peace, I hardly knew ye. As I write, M. HH (he can resort to being Monsieur Honey instead of Monsieur Hee Haw, aka Ass when things are different) is starting with me first thing. He is not very good at remaining silent for long. There is usually quite the long diatribe and monologue that occurs when he convinces himself that he has been slighted. And if that isn’t good enough, he’ll harass so much that a person will react, giving him new ammo to enjoy teeing off on. I’m not very good with having my space invaded…that includes the space in my head. When I need distance and a person insists on crowding it whenever and wherever they can, ignoring my pleas to just give me some time, the Pollyanna braids unwind and a cornered animal will bite eventually.

I had to leave with Miss Humanling and head out for a bit. We had breakfast at a small café. Humanling rather adores the restroom there. She has a thing for restrooms and likes to try them all out, reporting back to me the décor in one or the music played in another. We then hit up the library to use the computers since mine was home, SIGH, with M. HH. We did not use their bathroom this time. Then we were off to get coffee with a girl that I’d been meaning to have coffee with (or some sort of beverage) for nearly a year. Only M. HH got in the way because he felt I was up to no good. So we walked in town, had our iced coffee and eventually she walked me to a deli that I hadn’t yet tried. I ordered a nice mozzarella sandwich but didn’t realize they’d heat it. I have to say, now that I’ve had the not melted fresh mozzarella, I really am not interested much in the hot kind. It’s too chewy and sort of has this choking effect on me, like if I try to swallow it, it won’t quite go down nicely.

I was able to chose out a book for my father today, a nature book of some kind….ah, yes, here it is… Summer World by Bernd Heinrich. My dad seems to love nature. I really like giving him books that he likes. We aren’t very close but I do enjoy picking out books for him.
Just now searching for that link, I think of buying something from Amazon. Must Control Myself. I need to do this trip to Arizona in August and also must purchase a baby shower gift for my wee little Wolfie grandson.

Unfortunately I had to come home and he can’t bear silence so the barrage of my wrong doings were surrounding me in everything he could think to say. Finally when I answer, he runs out the door screaming, which means that the grand standing has occurred for our poor landlord who comes here on weekends to escape this sort of thing from NYC.

We are supposed to have family over tomorrow, yet he called my parents and my therapist and his friends and probably his mom and the landlord to make sure he gets his victim side in so that he can hit everyone up before me….which is silly because I did not call anyone. I came home to an email from my therapist to please let her know I’m ok, which is very nice of her. No, I’m not ok. I am going insane because I am being badgered and emotionally and verbally beat up by someone who doesn’t have a pause button. And it’s been going on for 4 days now. I don’t have patience for this.

So Humanling and I left the house to buy tomorrow’s menu for guests. Poor Humanling has been tired and unwell the past few days on top of it. Dragging her around is so unfair. But there is no peace to be had here. She cannot lie down and rest with him not letting things be.
So I’ve decided since he isn’t being a help for me for tomorrow, that I had to prepare a menu. He was going to do the cooking. As it stands now, I’ve had to throw something together. I am a longtime vegetarian and my family is not. So I have bought two already prepared and cooked on the spit chickens for legs and wings. Some of those round wraps in order to make quesadillas on with horseradish cheddar on one and sharp cheddar with sautéed shallots and pieces of white chicken meat on the other, devilled eggs, those delish refrigerated pickles, fresh strawberries from the garden, along with blueberries that I bought today, corn on the cob, and a few wonderful chocolate cakes, a cholesterol driving lemon cake and potato chips. I think I’ll do ok.
Tonight I must clean those guinea pig cages so the Pigphonic Symphony does not stink tomorrow for guests. M. HH decided to let the bathroom stink and go to hell for months (he has more home time than me since he isn’t currently employed so I think it is fair for him to deal with that). That one I will have to explain to the family. Sorry Fam.

Eventually poor Humanling needed to rest. I am rather worried about her. Perhaps all the fighting is really exhausting her.

Eventually M. HH left and I decided to see my Mr. Crows since I hadn’t visited with them yet today and firmly believe in animal habits. I can’t go a day without seeing them unless necessary. So when I go to Arizona, I will miss them. They were omni-present today, three of them showing up in one of their posts. I took photos and fed them. I also took more photos of the mockingbird flipping out on them for existing in the same neighborhood. As I stared and watched their behavior, M. HH showed up in his car with his dog and said things….I couldn’t really hear him, he mumbles to begin with and both of our voices are shot at this point. He mentioned that he saw one Mr. Crow take a peanut and fly away. That is nice that he told me. I do see that however because they usually swoop down right after I take a few steps away. I guess he doesn’t know the routine as well. He pulled up as I was watching Mr. Crow being dive-bombed by two mockingbirds. Mr. Crow followed for a bit around the block and I was fairly certain that I was never going to finish the page in the book that I was reading on this walk. For the walk I am reading A Pig In Provence. The library’s copy of As Always, Julia, might not withstand the juggling of the peanuts, camera and fact that I will use anything as a bookmark, including an abandoned arm, it were available.

But being interrupted by the soft swoop of Mr. Crow landing in a tree to say to me, “HEY! May I have some more of that treat that you have there just for me? “ is worth it. I think I detect behavior, and I’m not sure, that is leading others in his family to the food. For instance, he will show up, I will feed and immediately he will show up shortly when he couldn’t have finished what I already gave him. Then I will notice that he is allowing another member of his gang to have it and is coming to me for his own. Other times I have seen them beat each other up slightly for dibs. One of those Mr. Crows certainly feels pretty daring as far as proximity to me goes. He will come down to the ground fairly close to me. Eventually I will test him and see if I can get him to come even closer but for now, this is good. And they have given me opportunities for wonderful photos.

Well, now that I’ve enjoyed my dinner of fruits, cheese slices with oil, pepper and salt along with a nice piece of bread, I suppose I shall roll up my imaginary sleeves and do the Shit Shuffle on those cages.

Enjoy Mr. Crow, standing so handsomely with his beak open, about to eat his vittles.

#WhyAmIStillHere?

2011-06-17T20:25:00.000-07:00

Today has been a back breaker for me. I’ve spent any time at home in Humanling’s room, squashed next to her on the bed, reading.

She did have a field trip scheduled today but woke up with her belly feeling Non Field Trippish. So as a good mom will, I had her rest in bed and try to feel better. I then called the school so that after all the back and forth that has gone on between me and the school over the last month wouldn’t result in a giant glittering question mark. I was to pick her up earlier than the trip ended, 2 hours away, because I figured she’d fall asleep on the way back and was prone to a seizure on stage for all of the sixth grade to have burned in their memories. I opted to pick her up early once they shunned off my requests to actually go on the trip.

I figured that I’d go to the store to get the tummy supplies…the crackers, the clear soda, things of the like to help her be comfortable. When I got home, I walked into her room and she burst into tears saying that Monsieur Hee Haw, the artist formerly known as Monsieur Honey, had yelled at her. Why he was reprimanding her for something from last night once I was out of the house is a mystery to me. Where’s Janet Jackson when you need her? Cuz I’m hearing “Con-trooooolllll”.

I merely went up and looked at him, waiting for the explanation. It wasn’t a good enough one so the Event that lead up to my inability to sing “I throw my hands up in the air sometimes…singing AAAAAA-YO, gotta Leeeeeet Go” commenced. Yes, I blame M. HH on why my voice sounds like Kathleen Turner with a cold.

Poor Humanling…no rest at home. I piled her into the car along with a number of older newspaper sections from the New York Times that I keep meaning to read, along with Year in Provence. She brought her own bag of stuff. We eventually parked outside of the library….at 8am. The library doesn’t actually open until 10am. I thought this to be quite the challenge but we had enough reading material, crackers, sprite and my very own gluten free biscuit from the café downtown , to keep us happy. I read. Quite a bit. Humanling played her DSi and also shared some of the finer chapters of Girl’s Book of How To Be the Best At Everything. Like freaking people out in the elevator. Stuff that would get me committed at this age.

We watched a short bus pull up with a pile of what looked like pre-school kids and they all lined up and went into the library. EARLY. Wha?? We watched with Admission Envy and felt like the velvet ropes were actually a moat. Ok, no big. They can’t really even read yet so how long will they really be in there? Plus, I had to pee. And the thought of all those little inexperienced bladders made me realize that I might end up doing the Pee Dance.

A little later on, ANOTHER line of little ones shows up. WTH?? The bathroom was shrinking in the distance. The first group came out and now at this time, we passed the two hour test of sitting in the car for 2 hours and could enter as well.

The weird thing about the positioning of the bathroom is that it is directly behind a row of computers. So if you happened to want to go into the bathroom to let out a lil old biscuit of air in order to be Pure Air Compliant, it wouldn’t matter…someone would hear it. And God forbid someone stinks it up…as soon as the door opens, the computers will crisp and the users will asphyxiate.

I always tell myself that I won’t stock up on books….I have enough to read here at home. But I couldn’t help myself! I picked up As Always, Julia: The Letters ofJulia Child and Avis DeVoto. While I’m on the French reading, it seemed appropriate. I also picked up Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. It was a gift to me about two decades ago from an ex-boyfriend’s mother. I was enamored with her. Well, either that or he got it for me but the story sounds better if she did. It meant a lot to me then and to this day I can’t remember a word of it. So will be re-experiencing that at a different phase of life. I picked up one pretty old book, written I believe in the 1940s on Crows, Ravens, Jays, etc. I love old books. Plus just want to see what they knew back then about my Mr. Crows.

So the other night I mentioned that I had crabs. I was wrong. I had crab. One had died and I wasn’t really sure if he was just staying still or not until the next morning when I saw that he hadn’t moved and now his claws had been removed. Apparently the other crab was a little stressed out about this. The body and shell were taken away and today I thought we should get him a little friend as they enjoy being in a pack. Unfortunately, I was really getting a friend to keep another corpse company. That one also gave up. I’m guessing that it had the same affliction as Jerry Garcia…as soon as stuff gets cleaned up, the body gives out. We will need to pick up a couple more as soon as we can. Meanwhile I have tried to console the little dude with a piece of grape.

Eventually we came home and I found a nasty, paranoid and really whackadoodle type note asking me basically, SO – who was it that I called at 6:30am at X number? And why did I run out to the store so early? Was I picking up a stash of minutes for my defunct cell phone??

First off, I wasn’t even out of bed at 6:30am. And he was in the same room as me so let’s change it to Dipshit Status, shall we? Second of all, I made Une phone call – after 7am – to the nurse’s office at the school. The number he was waving in the air like the Flag of Opposition Defeat and all that is Ah-HA, was out of state and I don’t believe anyone was using the phone at that time. So the real question here is - why am I being checked up on? It’s easy to check an INCOMING number. Checking the outgoing is different. He “claims” he was looking for a number to call which I don’t buy because he is self professed at being amazingly good at remembering digits, which I am a witness to. So we must conclude, Bull and Shit.

I will say, I was a bit incensed over this. Really? Gotta root around for a problem that doesn’t even exist? I was out buying groceries for a sick kid. Why do I have to defend myself? I’d rather say nothing and allow him to stew in it than have to report what I was doing. I know where I was and who I called and when.

We agreed in the past that there would not be any Facebook posting or friend calling to boo effing hoo to when the fan splatters it all over the place. I kept my end of the deal. I am blogging, true. But I’m not put up the status or calling my friends or my mother. I am alone in this. I tried to go to sleep last night and he wouldn’t stop harassing me and at the end of it was “Did you post anything on Facebook?” and when I wouldn’t satisfy his curiosity, he had to ask again. So I did have to answer to that one to get some sleep.

I did get to take a one mile walk today…very lame since I usually do two. But I didn’t trust that if I left Humanling for long in her room that M. HH wouldn’t prey on the weak and find a reason to yell at her again. I did see Mr. Crows….the main one found me on an off road where we usually do not meet. I heard the rustling in a nearby tree and of course, offered him his daily vittles. Then he followed me to the parallel street and gave me a soft ‘caw’ as he flew over me to the next tree. Smart Mr. Crow, I say to him. He sure is a cutie and brightens my day. When I think to myself, gee, if I move away from here, what will I miss? I will Miss Mr. Crows. All of them, but that one especially. So I’d have to drive up here daily and just feed them and go. More time can be spent on the weekends.

I’d miss tons of stuff but since I’m still pissed about being told a bunch of demeaning things about my mothering, about myself and about my role in the fault, I am not feeling nostalgic for M. HH. Especially because he snoops. He snooped again today. Went under my laptop to pull out notes that I wrote to myself. Yes, to myself. Because I had agreed not to go to my friends or mom or facebook with our issues. So who can I tell? I was chastised for my own notes to me, saying they were lies and was I saving it for the therapist? Who’s business is that? And why am I being checked up on?

I decided while I was out to get my favoritist sandwich ever at a local mom and pop deli. A fresh mozzarella (they make it there) on a soft roll with fresh basil, oil and balsamic vinegrette. A delight! I decided to buy HIM the sandwich that he usually gets….rather expensive gift to get someone when they are turning important situations that involve your children into something about them because they can’t bear not to be in the spotlight.

When I got in the door and came up the stairs, Humanling in tow, M.HH was on the phone and stated that he would like privacy and space and that Humanling was not allowed upstairs right now or to be in the same room with him. So after declaring war on her with the wrappers the other day, now he is saying that she HAS to eat in her room. Hypocrite for Hire. So I tossed his sandwich onto the couch next to him and went downstairs to begin the rest of my day hanging out in the kid’s bedroom.

Humanling and I enjoyed a wonderful dinner in her room though. Fresh grapes and raspberries along with fresh bread from the bakery with oil to mop up (salt and peppered) and thin slices of the Irish cheddar cheese, sprinkled with oil. Ok, it's me so 'sprinkle' isn't accurate. Smothered is more like it.

He is relentless. Now I know why my therapist gives me titles to books on all the other abuses that are not physical. He pushes and pushes until I hit a breaking point. Psychological warfare when he isn’t getting his way. It’s disgusting. What will I do about it? Probably nothing. I need to make my way to AZ in August and the money that I have saved to see my gorgeous daughter and new grandbaby cannot be used to move out and get away from his silliness.
But let’s enjoy that handsome dude with the polite ‘caw’. At least he’s a family guy.

S...Z....the Ear Does Not Spell

2011-06-16T13:31:00.000-07:00

We’ve been trying to get one of our co-workers off to the dentist for awhile now. he’s been reminded, another co-worker offered to call and make the appointment for him and yet he seemed to have this aversion to going, even though I heard him say Quote – My teeth are trippin’ Unquote.

I put up the above photo on my desk top today. Isn’t that a beaut?? That one of the Mr. Crows – the one most comfortable with my presence. When I stepped out of the driveway yesterday, two of them came swooping down the road toward me and landed nicely in the tree. The comfier of the Mr. Crows boinked down to a branch closer to me and allowed me that beautiful picture. So of course, I fed them. And even if he had stuck his tongue out or turned his tail toward the camera, I’d have fed them anyway.

One of my friends today noted (truthfully) that if I wasn’t feeding them, they’d have no interest in me. C’est vrai! I know this! But we don’t speak each other’s language so the only way to get to know Mr. Crows is to feed them. THAT, they understand. It’s a friendly gesture and how else will they learn to trust me? If I just shout at them without a baggie full o’ vittles, “Come on down! The water’s fine!” they might remember me as the person who lives with that other person who owns the barking orange thing that likes to kill animals and birds. So the common language of food it has become. And in turn, I get to learn more about how their thinking works and snap a few great photos.

And because of the Great Cheeto Debacle the other night, I did find online something that notes the term Cheese doodles (yes I see the spelling is off but I was speaking the words not spelling them and it sounds the same. No one says Cheessssse doodles. Who emphasizes an S? Phonetically it turns out to be a Z.)
Peruse below:

Cheez Doodles®
Wise Cheez Doodles® are the honest-to-goodness originals…the genuine puffed or crunchy snacks that are a hit wherever they’re served. Kids love Doodles, but you’ll never outgrow that great cheesy taste.

Ok so I can clearly recognize that the term covers both puffy AND crunchy, yes? Yes. So the nitpicky fight over the technical jargon for this messy orange snack does not really matter, n’est ce pas?

Of course I can’t just email this home because Monsieur Honey will take it to believe that I hate him and that I’m trying to cause a fight. I would merely consider this a Ha ha.

And I was wrong…I wasn’t drinking ants. But I was drinking ant brains. I’m not even sure if they have brains but clearly I accidentally decapitated the dead ant the other day when I removed the body with a fork from the honey jar. Why I didn’t see this at the time is beyond me but I highly doubt that someone would throw just the head in there for spite. ……or WOULD they? So this morning in my rush out the door I had to first remove the ant head with two antennae before I could pour it in my coffee. With all of my neurotic issues you’d think this would top it but I must admit that my heart doesn’t even speed up the slightest of nanoseconds when I think about it.

Blame it on the Cheetos

2011-06-15T16:34:00.002-07:00

I had a dream this morning. I was on a boat, the kind with a roof and a board meeting room. The host was a black gay congressman with gray hair at the temples, a really fat white psychic who had a smaller head but huge hair like That Girl and was wearing a blue and purple mumu-ish thing, only better fabric (not acquired in the walmart mumu section).

There happened to be a baby on my lap of about 6 months. He had really light blonde hair and blue eyes. The waves started coming and a big one rocked the boat pretty hard so I asked the Honey…"can you swim with a baby?"

He said yes.

So I said "Good, because I can’t."

Then we were touring the bottom of the boat and I was still toting around this baby. I looked at Honey and said “I don’t remember being pregnant. How did that happen?”

“You ate those leaves for breakfast”, he replied.

“Oh”. And then I said...

“I don’t remember giving birth”

Honey gave no answer, just a grin.

Then he had the baby and sort of tossed it down in a chair and it was like a doll suddenly and it’s head went back, mouth open and it wasn’t hurt but I gasped really loud and pointed so he quickly fixed it upright.

Before I went to bed last night I had a slight querelle regarding Cheese doodles. C'est vrai.

I mentioned something about the deliciously unhealthy cheese snack that I was shoveling into my mouth from the bag. I called it 'cheese doodles'. I was corrected because that's how Honey is. He can't miss a single Correction Train. So he said, "cheese doodles?" So I verified that yes, I am eating cheese doodles. He informed me that cheese doodles are the puffy things, NOT the crunchy things that I had.

I asked if he really needed to correct that. He went on further to say that I shouldn't be so sensitive and that by me saying that, I was trying to change him because I am uncomfortable with what he says. I said that I didn't enjoy constant unsolicited corrections and isn't that trying to change someone? And furthermore....did he really not know that the things that I was referring to in the conversation were the things that I was eating and not something else? Did it really need correcting? Did he realllllllly not know what I meant?

Hmmm.....

Then comes silence, Steven Colbert and a strange dream with waves.

Wanted: Stunt Ass

2011-06-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

I am swigging down the last of my (very) cold coffee. However, since we are beyond broke this week, it would be a complete disservice not to finish my French pressed Starbucks French Roast from home.

So something came up this morning that they really don’t have insurance for. I was walking from the cafeteria with a slightly older and well, how do you say it without being rude, she probably eats a tiny bit more than me as well. She’s joking around saying that if I make this certain mistake with an important part of our work that she’ll kick my ass. So I had to make a decision. I decided that I need a Stand-In Ass to take my place since I really am too busy crunching the numbers here to take a moment for a good ass walloping. Besides, Honey is the only one authorized to be touching my derriere, with love or with mock kicking *(real kicking would result in my very real temper waking up from a nap).

So we walked into our work area and the first person I saw was a young, early 20s boy named Ajay. I strode up to him. “You will be the Substitute Ass”. He looked scared and confused. I told him that in the event that my ass needs to be kicked, his is younger. He smiled and added, “I’ve been working it out, too!”

My Cupcakes are Just Fine As Is, Thanks

2011-06-14T18:49:00.000-07:00

Naturally on today’s walk there was the scenery that I usually see daily, only today it looked extra photogenic! So I took out my camera, (always ALWAYS on my person) and shot. Only to have a message from the camera saying that it could not record this photo. Argh. I left the memory card in the computer when I uploaded photos earlier. The sky was a deep “roll up your car windows” sort of beautiful rare gray. Add to that description, Unrecordable. Suddenly everything was having a good hair day. The barns, the fences, entrails and dirt. Ok not really on the entrails. I was half expecting Mr. Crow to show up in a sequined vest, smiling to show me his gold tooth since I was sans camera.

Speaking of the entrails, we did cross paths. I wonder if it hates the smell of live humans as much as we hate the smell of exposed guts. I crossed the road once the wall of stench poked itself intrusively up my nose. After crossing, there was that small moment of caution where you breathe in ultra-light…just in case you didn’t move far enough. Once down the road however, a truck blazed by so fast that the wind it created dragged the death with it and the smell was back for a Gotcha moment.

After feeding Mr. Crow today, I had my back to him, walking toward home. I could tell something was coming up behind me and he sailed past my head, horizontal peanut in shell, safe in his beak.

Later on when I went out for my second walk of the day however, I showed up at a common feeding post and looked up....THREE Mr. Crows. (I can't tell male from female at this point so they are all Mr. Crow and when together it's simpler to say "Hi Mr. Crows!"). They are rather handsome devils.

Randoms:

I think I possibly had THE best cup of coffee in a long time tonight. Humanling and I had appointments and I sat in the waiting room, Best Cup O' Vanilla Hot Joe and Year in Provence, just enjoying the time. Once it cools off too much though, I drop it like I never knew it. Many times I will stand loyal to a cup of coffee even if it's gone cold, but this was the pre dinner hour and it can't stand a chance in this time frame. Plus I was aggravated for a moment with the Honey and decided to dump the rest down the drain.
*
Humanling and I were in the car, she blaring a Gwen Stefani tune that she’s wasted on my ears a million times. The torcha! She suddenly wanted to say something, but yet sing at the same time. It went something like:
Humanling: I forgot to have you sign the permission slip so that I could watch School of Rock today. So instead I went to the library and read a book on birth defects. Uh huh..it’s my Sh. All the girls stomp your feet like this!

Kids write the darndest poems!!
*
I’m not sure why this came up yesterday but the Honey told me that he would try not to fart on my cupcakes. I don’t actually have any cupcakes in which to release such a travesty on but had to make it clear that THAT shouldn’t even happen by accident.

Every Delicacy Has a Right To the Gross Factor

2011-06-14T10:52:00.000-07:00

I am probably drinking ants. I am also the person who will shoo the ants off the table or counter before Honey sees them as he is not quite as forgiving as I am. Plus, ants skeeve him out way more than they do me. I love local honey in my coffee. I gave replaced sugar with local honey a while back. Honey is a powerhouse!! The Egyptians used honey! Honey doesn’t go bad (despite that fake out expiration date that you see on the bottle). Or rather, untouched honey doesn’t go bad. I’m not as sure about the processed honey.

Since the weensy ants came to town, I have to wrap up my honey container in a tightly sealed bag. Yet somehow the little McGuvyers (and even one McGruber!) get into the bag, sometimes under the cap but usually not into the honey itself. Except for the aforementioned MacGruber Ant. He ended up almost preserved forever in the great fountain of youth that is honey, in my bottle. Yee and Ipes. So rather than pass him off as an amber fossil, I took him out with a fork (don’t be fooled…it is a tedious process, such as the process of the honey bee…) and sweetened up my coffee. Unfortunately, I couldn’t save that one and honey is antibacterial…you can use it in wounds, so continue to use it. I’m a freak about some hygienically related things but for some reason, ants don’t bother the old women in my brain that bust a girdle about many other things filed under Germophobe.

I sat training one our budding interns at work, a nice girl…heads down usually. So she really gets a lot done. Across the pod from her was another girl, cleaning out her two bedroom purse. She placed a couple of purple Tazo teabag sleeves on her desk amongst the dresser and Hummel figurines, while rummaging through for an appointment card. I suddenly felt guilty. Tea. I should be drinking more tea!! But I love coffee. I even love the idea of drinking bad coffee. I feel….incomplete without coffee! This gets in the way of my ideas about being in a nice smelling, colorfully decorated peaceful home where I offer tea to my guests. Coffee can get a foot into that fantasy as well but usually that’s reserved for a Tea cameo. I swear that someday I will have that earthy, mystical, quiet, herbal lady type of vibe going on! Well, if I have to drop an adjective, I vote Quiet.

I took my usual two mile walk, peanut and cheerios in hand, the hand also gripping A Year in Provence. The chapter I was on (June) was so far the funniest one. There’s nothing wrong with cackling down the road alone. I saw Mr. Crow and kept up with our usual bargain…I will talk to him, make him sit through a minor photo shoot, set down some food and walk off. On the next road, I found a nice shiny blob of entrails, nice and clean, as if someone planted plastic ones there right on top of a ratty possum carcass. As it was in my path, I subscribed to the train wreck theory and couldn’t really look away as I stepped past it. I thought for sure Mr. Crow & Co. would be all over it. There had been a black turkey vulture there moments before that had flown away with its impressive wingspan. So I figured that the crows probably wouldn’t be much interested in my Fisher Price food when they could have FAO Schwartz. Ah, it’s fun to be wrong (don’t let Honey hear me say that). I went to take photos of this nice stone wall with this tree like bush full of pink flowers. Behind it were a few trees. As I was messing around with my views, I heard the quiet swoop and out of the corner of my eye, saw that I wasn’t alone. And this time there was no mistaking anything random. He sat patiently, inquisitively, quietly. And so, he had his peanuts.

The journey is the fun. How can you even know what the end is until after it’s ended?

Breathing in a Lovely Sunday

2011-06-13T08:15:00.000-07:00

We don’t venture out to breakfast nearly enough! We took a nice sized drive to pick up my mother and her husband so that we could celebrate my step-dad’s 56th birthday. Upon arriving, I finally saw the gutted out living room, rug and couch-less. It didn’t look nearly as bad as she’d promised me. What a rip off.

They’d gotten rid of all their more porous furniture due to a bed bug infestation that started with an expensive trip to Bob’s. A grand and change later, they had a beautiful new bed. The only thing missing was the map to all the various colonies and villages founded by the bed bugs. Fresh hell. A year later, they are also without furniture and no reimbursement. Not even a small wadded up piece of paper thrown out of a van drive by that says “Sorry”.

We went to a place for breakfast that still continues to focus on the 1950’s. We rather enjoyed a number of photos of Lucille Ball, Henry Winkler and even one photo signed by Cindy Williams, aka “Who?” by my mother’s memory. LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY MA! LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY!!

My Humanling played that game called “I’m Full, Now Can I Go Play that Video Game Over There?” Game Fail! So she had to concentrate more on her secondary choice, Sulking.
We had a really good time though, despite my honey’s aches and pains from sitting in booths that were carved out and used on the set of the Flintstones (cartoon version). You need a lot of butt to cushion those seats and neither of us are armed with the Standard American Diet so we lose.

We currently have coffee brewing…ahhh……

I am waiting for the honey to come back from errands in order to be somewhat courteous, but I think I’m going to just pour it anyway. I plead “I drink slower than you”.

Finally I was getting out the door to take my 2 mile walk and feed my crows. Close by is a girl around my own age and she takes care of the property across the street. That includes a couple of horses, lots of chickens and a handful of cats. We started up one of those nice neighborly conversations and my walk turned into my coffee chat without the java. It was really nice though. Just chillin’ out with another female, talking about all kinds of things. And before I left she offered to have Humanling come and ride the horses as therapy (moody girl with epilepsy). She believes horses heal….they just know what to do. What a most gorgeous offer…so big that baking numerous apple pies for her probably wouldn’t even cover it. The crows during all this chatting patiently waited in a nearby tree. I’d thrown food down for one of them during our conversation and they’d found us a bit close to the peanut pile for comfort. However, my most social and brave one absolutely gave it his best. Then he and the other waited in the tree for my walk by.

Eventually I paid mind to a little sustenance. Humanling and I shared apple slices, giving the guinea pigs the peels. Then we moved on to the devilled eggs with smoked paprika that I made yesterday. I’ve found that the quickest way for us to use up our eggs if we’re getting a surplus is to make devilled eggs.

I have crabs. There. I said it. And I needed to change their tank today. I’ve had crabs for about eight years and at the highest had about nine. I currently have two. The poor things….I put off changing their sand for so long that the sand has learned English along with some American holiday customs. The poor little crustaceans…I’m fairly certain they are in Shell Shock (get it?). I used to really enjoy watching the little society that they eventually have if you put enough of them in there. Now I feel bad that the laundry piles up on the dresser like clouds in front of the sun. Only I am not the culprit most of the time depositing high laundry traffic and leaving it there. Ahem.

As the day winds down, I find that I never did get in my walk, as I usually want to do. But I traded it in for good company with a neighbor, which weighs out to be like that Friday night Ice Cream for Dinner thing. The walk is good for me but the talk with her is another kind of good, and one that I don’t have enough. A little bit of a hermit, but not an anti-social skulk when it comes to conversational skills, I do appreciate a fine quality chat.

Thirst Quenched!

2011-06-11T18:24:00.000-07:00

So I am in the mood to sit and make some word art of the day, but alas, my beautiful man, my beloved Honey, is in the mood for chatter in intervals that allow the mind to locate a subject, begin to form a sentence, and then comes whatever knowledge it is that he wants to share. Up to and including the horses he chose today at OTB for the Belmont, even though I was right there during purchase.

I notice a male Pine Grosbeak just staring in the window (at me? Can he see me from there?). I told my honey and he said they DO stare in the window at us from the feeder – not a look of guilt as you might suspect….the feeder has plenty – but maybe it’s just a momentary curiosity. Or else they are trying to figure out how to play Farmville/Chess from the Spectator Sport of Voyeurism.

The Belmont race is getting ready to start so I will be finishing this later, Quiet provided. I put my bets on Nehro. Humanling chose Animal Kingdom. Honey believes it will be Shackleford, winner of the previous race. Now that I’ve asked, there is an explanation worthy of an architect’s thought process.
*
As it turns out, the tiniest bit of information that I read regarding the horses for the Belmont, helped out. I chose Stay Thirsty among two other horses for Win or Place and happily had my butt driven down to OTB to pick up my little win, but win it still was. Whoo hooo!
I have just finally finished cleaning guinea pig cages. Two of them. Because they can’t stand each other and start rumble strutting and everything else when together, including drawing blood. SO….since I decided 2 ½ years ago to adopt two guinea pigs, two cages is what I get to clean. Oh, at least now I can handle doing it with bare hands. I just scrub up like fifteen times when I’m done so that when I leave the bathroom, the soap starts gagging. Quite a feat if you ask me.

And watch this….my first slurp of Erdinger tonight. I was going to open it up for the horse race but happened to still be behind my drink schedule and was finishing my coffee at that time. Got a little behind when I decided to make devilled eggs and of course I cannot be touching absolutely anything else when I handle food unless it’s getting cooked afterward. In hot oil.
I also finally left Absolute Loserville and finally got a home room hit on my Home Run for the Streak pick on MLB. But that was yesterday. Today Jose Bautista taketh away. Oh well. At least I can say that I effectively chose ONE in my life.

I did see Mr. Crow on my walk today and that was about the most peaceful time of the day. Besides waking up this morning and spending Quality Time with the honey. It seems to go downhill from there some weekends. Right now he is rooting around like a hedgehog in Humanling’s room for all kinds of food garbage…i.e. wrappers or the substance of Food, itself. He went in there to check out the Mets score on her tv and of course his scavenger hound who has the bottomless pit for a gut, was sniffing out wrappers. The honey can’t seem to just let it go and has to search the entire room for more wrappers so that the child can be called lazy and get yelled at. Granted….she knows the rules and has been told plenty to throw her garbage out. She didn’t, so this is what happens. I can’t say that it makes for peaceful family conversation and picturesque moments, unless those photos are of a court trial.

This is one of those days where I would like to rewind back to the good parts and delete some of the others. The child finally has the tv during prime time – PRIME TIME for God’s sake! And she has to keep dealing with her criminal wrapper littering ways.

Bewwwww Hew ….. I just want a weekend and a thought without interruption. That’s right. I’m unduly crabby when dealing with other hominids today, even after winning on Stay Thirsty and seeing my loverly Crow friend! I should be punished and not spoken to at all for the rest of the night! No. Please. Don’t.

So here’s a little Manners Reminder for anyone reading who needs to pass on the word…because I know that my fabulous readers have their social q’s in fashion. When we went to cash in the *winning ticket* (que streamers and confetti) at OTB, there was a woman in front of us who was still at the counter when the man called out “next!” So I moved forward but was forced to the left of the counter because Mrs. Scratch Off with the spandex pants that gave her one giant buttcheek instead of separating it out nicely into the two that are more proper for an exposed derriere (as opposed to being covered by a long shirt or jacket) decided to stand there and lose her money on a ticket right in front of the cashier at the counter instead of losing off to the side to give us more room. A tad annoying. Yes, I know it was OTB, but still. I do encounter many polite people in general but there are the few who don’t seem to realize that they are sharing earth-space with others. Or counter space in this instance. But not YOU, my lovelies!!! I'm sure you are definitely flocked with those who pay the manners forward!

I must now get my mini-criminal to bed. She'll have to pay her $100 fine for littering and get to sleep.

My Flail Can Spit Fire...It can't? Why the hell not??

2011-06-11T18:07:00.000-07:00

It was one of those work from home days where by the end of it, I should have looked like one of those cartoon characters where the bomb explodes in their face, leaving my hair stiff, black and straight back, my blue eyes peering out from my explosive covered face. The good thing is that I had a nice lunch with my honey. Working from home has it’s perks and lunch usually does not involve food.

We did have a nice lentil & rice dish that he had made last night when we were eventually hungry. Very tasty!

But when work was done, I was just sooo done. Time to change into my Not One More Minute clothes. Time to go see my crows, read a little of A Year in Provence. And out I went. The Crows were about…the one who is more forthright and getting to know that I won’t chuck a rock at him but instead will gently place a small pile of crackers and peanuts for him on the ground where he can see it.

His family is also showing up now and waiting in the backseat of the tree branches, not yet comfortable enough to go without the middle bird.

When I got home, Honey had been making his delicious home fries since we decided on breakfast for dinner. With seven chickens in the yard we can’t really ignore the eggs in the fridge that are awaiting their curtain call. It’d be a huge dis-service to the ladies in the coop, as we hear them at times squawking during production. We feel like the lowest life forms on the small occasion that we drop a precious shelled gift to the floor, thus shattering it and having to call in the cleanup reinforcements…the dog. We are dismayed that after all the bodily effort that the hen out back put in, we basically crumpled it up and tossed it aside. Especially since we’re broke! We may as well hand out $20’s to anyone who walks by our house and doesn’t rob it.

So tonight, after my walk and healing Tibetan excercises, I arrived into the kitchen to top off our dinner. Honey makes the spuds and I am the Egg Chef. I learned how to make scrambled eggs a la Julia Child, after buying Honey her books one Christmas. So tonight I used the Julia method, although the eggs stick to the pan the most for me this way. However, if you read last night’s post, you know that I don’t do dishes. So. Oh well!

For our drinking pleasure with breakfast for dinner, was Erdinger beer. Yum. A little weird with eggs, but on a nice summerish day, how can you turn down an Erdinger?

Eventually we sat outside and I called Miz Eye, who is currently incubating my grandson, Greyson. It was so much fun to talk to her for hours. We exchanged pregnancy stories, the seriousness of Dungeons and Dragons game players (and it turns out that she has my antagonistic What If I do this/Why Can’t I do This? Gene – seriously, why is it such an offense to try and make your troll/dragon/Fantasy Imp do something un-Mythically Conventional? As Miz Eye stated, it’s about using your imagination!), along with stories of her gentle giant of a partner’s passing out when seeing gross or disturbing things. I have a feeling he won’t attend the entire birth in full consciousness. I’ll place my odds on tunnel vision before the crowning.

My Honey Is Dishy

2011-06-09T19:29:00.000-07:00

Ok I must admit this is a tiny little rant. But isn’t that what a blog is for? But like a plastic CD case unhinged, that’s not what it is always used for. (I use my unhinged CD case for scraping the ice off my windshield in the winter! Upcycle THIS!)

I realize that my man is riddled with various things that tire him out and make him hurt everywhere. The Lyme disease, the osteonecrosis, head pains, hip pains, joint pains, Everything o’clock pains. Sometimes worse than others. He also sweats like nobody’s business when he does the dishes on a hot summer night. So I figure I’d help out and maybe do a few dinner dishes for him to help out. But no….my method of stacking DIRTY dishes in the sink is pretty suckish compared to Honey’s standards. He likes to stack his dishes in the order that he will wash them so that they will fit neatly into the dish rack.

I’m all who cares! Who cares if I wash the bowl then dish then bigger bowl and cup and dish again? It means YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO! Just my thought. Of course as I write this, my honey is talking to the television sports announcers. So my path of thought has turned into a lawnmower gone rogue and is off into the bushes somewhere when once it had a clear plan to go by.

What I’ve discovered is that his petty perfectionism means simply this: I don’t have to do dishes.

Red Velvet Crumbs and a Mockingbird

2011-06-09T18:26:00.000-07:00

Tonight we had the best and baddest mama jamma of a storm. We aren’t prone to worrying about tornados and the like in my area. Well, we weren’t anyway. Until that crazy tornado in Springfield, Mass last week. NOW we believe in ghosts.

The way home from work was brutal….visibility only allowing the ability to see a huge tree in the road right as you were about to drive over it. Lightning streaking down the sky constantly, strobing the town in a steady tempo. And of course, plenty of sirens to make us all pull over, wondering what the scene would be like, wherever that EMT was headed to.

So I know that I have this love for crows and all but our animals in the house are trying to get into the act. They’ve heard that a group of crows is a murder and are attempting to be the villainous bad asses of this hood. Le chat Azrael and le chien Ziggy both had their evil moments today. Azrael first, strutting around the house with a dead chipmunk. She is probably the single highest cause of Chipmunk Mortality around here. Not cool. She doesn’t even eat them. Ziggy took out a woodchuck who tried to defend himself. That makes me even sadder….an animal wanting to live and trying to stay alive and losing. But I guess that’s life and its opposite, Compost. I hear there were entrails involved with the woodchuck incident. SHIVER.

Today was a crazy day at work…one in which you dearly wish you had a beautiful Japanese or Chinese partition to close your little piece of pod real estate off and not speak to anyone. I have fabulous workmates…I just need quiet sometimes to work. And today we were all interrupted to the nth because our boss really wanted to know when this or that might be worked on, creating and slamming panic buttons wherever possible, like that landmine game. This doesn’t keep a flow going to finish the job. It just creates more fires to put out.

Regardless, I had a nice radio day. NPR decided that in all likelihood, its stories were not what I needed today and would not play for me. So I thought I’d check out some living in France podcasts, perchance some also on crows and ravens. So I did. I will have to reach out to a couple of those crow guys to see if they’ll be on my Scorpion Equinox show. One is Tony Angell and the other is John Marzluff. They wrote a book called In the Company of Crows and Ravens.

I lost my batting streak on MLB yesterday. I’d been up to a 7. This means I’m sort of a big deal (Not.). It really means that I guessed seven days in a row who would get a hit in baseball. Suzuki, how could you let me down? Now my boyfriend is beating me! Or….I’m getting a head start on my new streak so that by the time his crumbles, he’ll be behind me. Wah hahahahaha….
So to make me feel happier, Farmville decided that we could plant cupcakes. Which I did promptly. I am part of the ecstatic nerdville that is a committed farmer. I can’t let down my neighbors, nor can I let my crops wither (it’s a waste of my virtual cash!). So cupcakes it is. J’adore cupcakes. I am sure to eat one at least once a week. We have a great bakery in the area, McKinney and Doyle, and wow, talk about lookers. Those cupcakes could be rocks with frosting and I’ll eat them. I usually share one with Humanling on Tuesdays. I don’t know about her but I end up with red velvet crumbs all over my lap like an animal.

So tonight I decided to do yoga since it was still lightning out during my usual walking and cavorting with the crows time slot. I haven’t done a full yoga routine since I started walking during our lovely weather and boy, it was a task. My balance was all ragged. Note to self: do not ignore yoga or else it will make the joke out of me that I am once cold weather comes.
Eventually I decided to grab a plastic bag and take my Year in Provence book, along with camera and Murder Treats (ok really one faithful crow does not comprise a murder but he did lead 2 of his family to me a couple of days ago and they were fed too.)

Now I’ve noticed that there are a couple of other Birdie Cues out there that let me know Crow is around. Mockingbird is one of them. He starts with his bizarre Rehhhhhhh Rehhhhhhhh noise which I usually hear when Crow and I are in the same area. Mockingbird dive bombs Crow constantly and Crow, being the (much) bigger of the two doesn’t even bother to kick his ass. He just continues to get pelted and shows some patience. So when I heard Mockingbird’s Rehhhhhhhh tonight as I headed out of the driveway, I saw Crow also. I put down some vittles and left the driveway. I have a feeling that Mockingbird is very territorial over the driveway area so Crow instead flew to one of its tree posts that I normally feed him under. I happened to get a photo of the attempted dive bomb because I enjoy taking photos of Crow whenever possible (see above photo). Crow then flew down to eat.

On my way back to the house, my mile almost up, it had started raining again and I decided to just do one mile tonight instead of two. Red-Winged Blackbird is the other messenger to let me know that Crow is around. RWB started making noise and also dive bombing Crow. Very patient Crow, who simply wants to eat peanuts and cheerios and crackers. And almonds this time around.

So tonight I tried to teach Crow a word….”Once Around This Time”. Ok that’s a phrase but it might sound like a giant syllabic word to Crow. The rain, of course. Tomorrow I will lap 2 miles and feed him again.

See you tomorrow Crow. For now I see that my older one, Miz Eye, has sent me a request in Farmville. A first. Of course in the exuberance of sharing something you like with one of your very favorite people, I have already sent a gift back with a long paragraph telling her to friend my Farmville Friends, with footnotes.

A little sprig o' trust

2011-06-09T11:19:00.000-07:00

It’s been maybe a couple of weeks now. There is one crow in particular, so far as I can tell, who is more trusting of this lots of blonde hair tailed, book reading, baggie holding human.
I’ve discovered that I no longer can decide that I won’t walk on a day where it is too hot. Or too anything. Mr. Crow (or is it a Miz? I feel sorta bad that I can’t differentiate on looks alone at this point, just behavior) knows at this point that I will walk the circular block twice every late afternoon. Now it’s become a schedule and already having pets, I know how important their rituals are to them.

The other day I was walking and had my nose deep inside my book, not looking up often to see where Mr. Crow and his cronies might be landing. They usually fly to the tree nearest to where I will be arriving. They sit like patient, expectant statues, waiting for me to notice their presence. The one day I didn’t happen to notice….I was reading Stephanie Meyer’s “The Host” and was absorbed. I hear a gentle and abbreviated “caw” above me and saw Mr. Crow on his Feed Me branch.

I usually talk to them first, making sure to look up at them. They recognize faces and like that shampoo commercial in the 70s, for better or worse, they will tell a friend, who will tell two friends and so on and so on.

Then I will open the baggie, show a palm of food while speaking still, and then place it down on the ground where they can easily see it. For now my intention is to gain the trust. To show them that I’m simply here to feed and be friends. I will put the food down and walk away so that you can eat without my creepy human presence. They probably have their own poems about us….if you see one human it means you will be alone, if two, you will find a mate of your own….

I speak again after placing the food and wish Mr. Crow a nice day and to enjoy his vittles.
There are little milestones that seem to occur. I’m no expert but I do know that crows have their own territories. I believe our ‘hood contains about four or so. They bobble around in the back yard and if I go out to see them, they are still tentative. So I save it for the regimen of the walk, where they can choose how close they’ll get.

The other day, Mr. Crow landed eye level with me on a fence about 10 or less feet away. This was a big event for me….I’m used to wondering if I’m going to escape a crow present being dropped on me when I look up to talk. This one was level and close. The first time any of them have done so. I pulled out the baggie and moved a little slower than usual so that he wouldn’t feel threatened and as usual, placed his vittles down, gently speaking and then walked off. I usually bring a camera so that I can get a photo or two first but this day I hadn’t….naturally. It would have been the best photo yet.

I tell my honey that I’m not sure that I can be seen with him outside. He owns a hound that at times barks desperately at anything he wants to chase and destroy. If the crows see me with That Guy who owns the Barking Orange Thing, then I might end up on the Spy list.
I have no idea where this little courtship with the feathered ones are going but so far, the journey is sweet. I do imagine picking one up like our chickens in the backyard but highly doubt there would be a simple episode of non-resistance. For now the walks with book and baggie are just fine as is.

Friends in the Country

2011-06-09T11:17:00.000-07:00

I think someone is flirting with me. He’s sleek and real smooth. I don’t just love him because he’s black. Or because he watches me when I’m not looking. It’s a quaint flirtation.

I go for my 2 mile walk in the evening. I am usually eyes down in a book (yes, I do read and walk….and despite the many times I’ve been asked how, I really don’t have an answer!). Curled up in my right hand is the top of a Ziploc baggie. Inside is an assortment of goodies; peanuts in shells, cheerios, bread…whatever is on hand. I get to one of two of my landmarks. I look up and there he is. Pretending not to see me now. Or knowing that I can’t see exactly what his eyes are looking at since they are also camouflaged by his darkness. I say hi, tell him what I have for him. Then throw it down on the ground. I talk for a moment more, then walk off. I won’t look behind me until I’m a safe distance away. When I turn around eventually, he’ll be eating the goods. He saw me. He knew what I was doing.

When I come around the stretch, I look over into the horse pasture and see Crow there. He notices me and lifts off, flying past me on my right and perches to see if it’s still true. Is it true? Of course it’s true. Every time I see you. The familiar sound of the baggie opening, my hand grasping the edibles while I speak to him. Then I toss them down and tell him to enjoy. He and Red Winged Blackbird consult. I walk off, continuing with my book, knowing that in this little courtship ritual, I will turn around in about 30 seconds to see if he is enjoying my gifts.

Behold. I Hath Seen a Genuine, No Back Biting Chickadee

2011-05-04T13:05:00.001-07:00

My friend at work and I somehow found ourselves in a Nice Off.

She's probably about 15 years younger than me and an absolute joy. She's so very considerate and sweet to everyone and has a vat full of laughs just waiting to be tripped over and scattered around the room.

I helped her with something and she started it with an IM saying that I'm awesome.

I said she is a ray of light.

She said I am the sun.

I said she is the sun of five galaxies.

I won.

The Cusp of Change

2011-05-04T12:32:00.000-07:00

I
Am
Lost

But someone believes they have found me
So my floating crate is no longer at sea
But I’m still inside wondering
Why someone hasn’t yet jimmied open a wall for me

Perhaps my grip on reality
Outside of the barbed membranes
Really isn’t the main path at all
Then again
With all my excavation gear...

Isn't this what I expected?

May 2nd

2011-05-02T05:46:00.000-07:00

You know what today is. Ups and downs, events, non-events, whichever rock is shining in the sky. Day after May Day. The beauty seen from the eyes that swivel around to see the road taken. It doesn’t change the depth of today. Nothing will never change today.

The Hope, the Beauty, the magical reality of blooms. It's always available, even in memory and refuses to be superceded.

O'Blessings

2011-03-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

A beautiful St. Patrick’s Day…the sun is shining and the weather is mild. The shiny, sleek crows made their rounds in the yard this morning.

I have been under the weather the past couple of days….a small flu it seems. Sweating keeping the mate awake at night with my Excorcist type of shaking due to chills.

But I am Irish, with one of them there O’ type names and so I’ve decided to get my caffeine fix with Irish tea, which is going down much easier than my usual beloved coffee. My beloved and I usually like to shower together. Today he ushered me in (he is tough loving my illness and trying to get me up and around more than I feel like doing so) and as we stood there washing, I remarked that I am surprised there wasn’t some giant oil slick of sweat on the bottom of the tub from my 2 days of perspiring as if it were a full time job.

I’ll tell you what IS a full time job though. Filling out one bracket for the March Madness basketball tournament. Now fill out nine more and you have put in time that you wish you were paid for. I’m newer at this sports thing…only finally “joining them” because when living with a sports freak, you are in denial if you think you are going to beat them. Especially my dude, who will play by play it for you and tell you all about it even when you don’t want to hear about it. But because I love my honey, I don’t like telling him to just shut up already….who knows what I might gain from the conversation. I’ve learned a few things by listening to things that I normally would shut out.

By the same token, sometimes I would just like some quiet and don’t always want to hear about anything that isn’t of my own interest.

But today, feverish or not, it is a day of blessings and I think I will enjoy what the day brings…no expectations except to be open and experience.

Purr a Little Dream

2011-03-11T19:40:00.000-08:00

My devilish and affectionate Azrael sleeps to the right of my head at night. Sometimes I wonder if our dreams are intermingling like osmosis. I think about that with my mate at times too.

Sometimes we will sleep and then share what the feature movie was in our heads for the night. There has been a time or two that it has been the same theme between both of us. So I figure that our heads are close and our thoughts must be weaving and flowing from one to the other.
*
There’s a point where I have to feel out my comfortability in the daily flow of events.

I am still not sure of where what dot is colored in on the number scale from one to ten. When I dismiss deep thinking, and at the same time, engage deep thinking, I can feel Ok with it. I’m not sure if I am mostly ecstatic, but I am ok and moments of happiness creep up and tickle me when I least expect them. Those moments can happen solely inside of my mind much of the time. Anticipating Something. Maybe anticipating the weekend. Or reading a chapter in a book. Or one of those fabulous cupcakes from a local bakery around here. The frosting is never that gritty, sugary kind, but is fully the buttery kind, on a type of chocolate embalming fluid on top of a moist cupcake.
*
I can observe the non verbal cues. When Bill Maher music comes on, even though no one is talking, there is a preemptive volume increase made with the remote. As if to form a barrier that says “You must not speak. If you do, the volume may go Imax on your ass.”
*
We had our time in couples therapy tonight. For a couple that isn’t married and has been together for a year and a half, it sounds like we are war worn and weary on the Benatar Battlefield of Love. I think people partially go to therapy to have a referee. It works for me. There are things not discussed so much at home as much anymore and then it is brought up on the chairs. It’s amazing to show up happy, hot beverages in hand, having spent the day with natural affection…..then walk out with someone capable of steaming vegetables on their head. There are some strange perceptions among us. And I don’t know about other couples but when the ugly gets on, it’s like a switch flipped and this can’t possibly be the person that was so gentle and sweet earlier. There were definitely things to discuss in an uncomfortable arena. But I guess you don’t show up to talk about how nice those office lamps are. Well…he dove in and threw a conversational grenade on the place.

I am surprised that during the vein bulging parts I was not shaking my legs up and down like I always do. In therapy they always point out the discomfort gage of my knees bouncing up and down. Today though, there would be no such pointing. I folded a little piece of paper up into a small rectangle. I attempted to fold it very small but at one point, it wouldn’t fold anymore. So I folded it in the opposite direction. And back again.

And so today, it is Clean Slate day. It is Enjoy life….and if there is a chance of getting hurt in this relationship, I will live. I’ve done it before.

I’m going to stop worrying. And therefore maybe help him not worry also. Freedom is mine….to share of course. My mind will be free. I am going to trust in order to allow my mind to go to newer channels instead of hanging out in the old mind haunts. We are so much more often than we know, our own worst enemy.

Standing up to the challenge of growing pains. And through the challenge, is a warm, cozy center where that crazy, happy flow is ushered in a subtle, yet severe way. Now I must remember this for longer than just now, while my eyes dust over the words.

Check out where my wings are coming in!

Where the Mind Floats

2011-03-08T18:30:00.000-08:00

The Weather lady on MSNBC this morning seemed to be talking to a bunch of unstable Americans. Her tone during the weather had that feeling of a careful It’s-Going-To-Be-Okay-Now-Come-Down-From-There-With-That-Sword sort of message. Sing songy, no weapons needed….“And up here in Albany, it’s going to be 35 degrees and sunny!!”
*
My beautiful honey, I love that you tell me so much. But I don’t really need to know every single thought running through your head. I think it is more for you than it really is for me. You talk out loud to remember…but I have not yet found storage where I can cart all this information so that I have space left in my head for my own thought rivers to flow without dams.
*
I’ve heard the car commercials and now I want a swaggering guitar rhythm as my soundtrack when I check the mail.
*
My honey saw a headline “Kate’s dress leaked!” and wondered what bodily function of hers failed. I swooped in with my frilly cape and tights and allowed the estrogen to translate the headline to him and let him know that the dress she is wearing was probably leaked onto the internet before she wanted anyone to know.
*
Last night I read an article in the NY Times about Dennis the Menace from Sunday’s paper. I am stubborn Irish and will not give up on reading something until I actually read it. I will carry it around for years until I have finally read it. Yesterday I happened to get to the article sooner than later. The article mentioned Dennis’s evil veins pumping his evil blood and how there was a Starling infestation in his grumpy neighbor’s trees. So Dennis put liver up there and attracted a pile of cats instead. I thought it was timely to have had our own Starling infestation yesterday morning.

I wonder if I would have thought about it any differently had I read about the Starlings on Sunday before seeing them on Monday.
*
After an intimate space with my mate, I spent some time looking up at his face and told him that if I ever were to have one photo only of him forever, it would be the “after” image. The stubble on his face frames and contrasts his lips in a way that only biology can get right.
But the threat of him shaving it off still hangs in the balance.
*
Whenever I ingest lemons or oranges, I feel like I am glowing with sunshine.
*
Sometimes thoughts out of nowhere pop into my head. Actually, this one came due to mate’s activity across the room as I work. I’m going to start a band called Angry and Farting. Only he isn’t angry. Just farting.
*
The dog is doing ‘Gross Dog Noises’ Greatest Hits’ while I am eating. It all sounds so gross….his snorting and licking that makes his tongue sound like it’s 2 feet thick and has marinated in a vat of saliva for a week. I have to turn on some music to put a buffer between me and this assault of saturated noise.
*
As I was walking back from getting the mail, I noticed that the landlord’s shovel was lying down on the ground. I know that it was previously standing up in snow. The snow has melted. I wondered what that moment in time was where the shovel finally broke free and fainted to the ground.
*
I was putting Humanling to bed and was sitting with her, just relaxing. She was closing her eyes and twirling my hair through her fingers when suddenly her poofy white cat launched off the bed and landed squarely in front of my bad ass hunter cat Azrael. The poofy white thing then sharpened her claws on the carpet in a very deliberate and In Your Face Azrael sort of way, while Azrael sat there with hybrid look of disbelief and boredom.

aMuse Me

2011-03-07T19:39:00.000-08:00

This morning I heard a great number of birds squawking about. Upon glancing out of the window, I saw heaps and heaps of black starlings flying into our trees. It looked to be 100-200 of them. They hung out briefly until I opened the door to throw them a piece of bread. I immediately stopped throwing bits down when I realized that it was moldy.

*

I kissed my lover's mouth before going out for a walk in the chilly dusk. He tasted like a room with a cozy, warm fireplace.
*
I came back from my walk and let him know that should I die and someone shows up at my funeral to protest something or disrupt, I have a wish. My postmortem orders are to take the loudest, most disruptive person (should one show up) and throw him in the coffin, face down on top of me. Then slam the lid shut.

Let the person out after a few minutes of course. But maybe make them sweat it out a bit, maybe make them sing a few bars of my favorite Ella Fitzgerald song first or yell through the muffled wood what sign they are. They can get out a minute sooner if they know their moon and rising sign.
*
Honey is trying to close a window on his computer for a Root Mash recipe. He clicks a few times and eventually the sleepy computer catches up on it’s To Do list and shuts down all of his windows. He notes this and then says “Whatever” while getting up to finish making dinner. I said “You just Whatever’d your computer.” He stops for a moment and says “Yes I did.”

*
As I read a simple Buddhism for kids level book to my Humanling as she’s falling asleep, her fluffy white thing of a cat perches on the trunk next to the bed. The fluffy white thing loves my girl more than everything else and waits for her at night, sitting patiently upstairs, waiting for Humanling to finish Whatever It Is and go to the shared space of the bed. Or as we say, “Your ride is here.” The fluffy white thing sees that as I am reading the story, I am also an obstacle blocking the path to a united destiny of cat and human. Kitty looks at my how close Humanling is and then to see how wide the human river of me is that she has to cross.

When I left my mate for a couple of days due to our addiction to bad patterns in disagreements, he sent me an email, among many others, that burst the dam of emotion I was feeling. I stood at work, reading that the cat who hadn’t seen her human in 2 and a half days, had been crying desperately at 4am, looking for her. That finally, my mate, who loves animals but this one is the least favorite in the house. She is quite the long hair, which equates to puffs of hair floating about and the occasional old turd that got stuck in her backside, concealed by all the fur but that eventually found freedom among the floorboards.

He felt so bad for her crying that he called her to come sleep in the bed with the dog and himself. And finicky girl that she is, she actually climbed in.

Reading about Miss Kitty’s heartbreak added 2 more tons of heartbreak to my already broken heart of missing being home with my mate. I cried for the next couple of hours at my desk, crumpled Kleenex piling high in the trash bin.
And took half day and went back home to him.

*
We watched Michelle Bachman speak on one of those nightly MSNBC shows. There is something about her that COULD be so pretty. But when I look into her blue eyes I am really seeing evil skeletor.

*
During my walk tonight I noticed that I’d nearly caught up to a figure up ahead. Eventually she crossed into someone’s driveway, away from the house and into the woods. As far as I know, that direction doesn’t lead to anything that anyone would go to because then it opens into a huge, sprawling field. I would have looked at her some more as I was passing her but that would have been so shady.

For the rest of the night, she has been a mystery for me. A creepy, paranormal mystery.

Soaking In It

2011-03-06T08:21:00.000-08:00

I like taking late, quiet lunches at work. If I go at the tail end of serving time, I can sit and read in a decent silence. I’m not anti-social per se, but do enjoy my own quiet space wherever I can get it. At home I am usually in the vocal company of my beloved mate or my Humanling. After hearing everything they are saying at times, my head is full of other people’s thoughts, perceptions, news, concerns and current events. I find that I no longer have creative space in my head at that time. I only have room for the very next Have To Do or Think About. All of it practical.

Space is good for the opportunity for all of the Other’s mind confetti to filter nicely down into my being and disperse where it needs to be filed, like a drain. Only then can I start to have the room for my mind to stretch and breathe, then figure out what it is that I am made of. What I default to in thought and how my mind likes to browse as compared to just taking in constant stimuli that belong to others.

I set my tray down at work a few days ago to have that mind yoga for a small piece of time. I noticed that I read voraciously. I ate slowly. My fork actually went down between bites and I wasn’t eating like a rushed mom.

I read my Dharma Road book for a bit, at one point laughing gratuitously out loud for probably a margin too long for conventional taste those who might be around a solo table guest who is laughing. Eventually I looked up and saw there was another small table in front of me with just one person. A girl who I don’t know was also having lunch alone. It seemed a little different than my experience. She ate quickly, sitting down after I’d been seated and finishing before I left. She fidgeted with the plastic coffee cup lid, pulling it back as she stared out of the window. Then she picked up her lunch receipt and read it. I had my book, she was reading a receipt. Something about that action made me imagine loneliness.

It’s not for me to imagine what is lonely for one person or another. But the act of reading a receipt because there is nothing else to do with your eyes sort of made me feel sad. She then got up, removing her tray and left.

Maybe that was all good with her. Perhaps it is some sort of projection on my part. But I admit that I was happy to have my book. Perhaps I just wouldn’t be happy to just look around quietly during lunch by myself with nothing to read except the receipt that tells me what I already know – what I had and how much it was.

I do enjoy my quiet. But mostly with a book or space to think. And maybe that’s what she was doing….taking her own small space to let her mind stretch.

Not Cool

2011-03-03T06:55:00.000-08:00

I understand that law is law.

Having the right to free speech and demonstration is a beautiful thing.

Having the right to stage a demonstration against homosexuals at a funeral of someone who has passed away during their unselfish service to their country is completely immoral. These people served their life for our country. They have acted in a more heroic way than most of us can even imagine doing. And there are people who are going to make the lives of the deceased all about their own selfish discomfort about gays in the military?

I am disgusted that law supports the Westboro Baptist Church with their promotion of this sort of behavior by stating that “God is punishing the United States for the sin of homosexuality”.

People seem to forget … the deceased also have parents. Siblings. Significant Others. How is protesting adding to the value of lessening the suffering of the people suffering their loss? If you want to save lives and think you are doing a service to the world, how about lessening the suffering of the families and leaving them a peaceful last goodbye?

This may very well be happening but I do not hear about anyone protesting their political agendas at the funerals of men who have cheated and borne illegitimate children while married to a different woman.

Or the funerals of crooked politicians.

Or the funerals of Wall Street cheaters.

Yet there are people who cannot think outside of their own selfish drama to see the suffering of family members who are grieving and are willing to interrupt that process and cause even more damage.

Why is this ok? How has death become so unsacred and desensitized? Why not have a vendor stand on the grounds selling hot dogs as well? How have we not evolved enough to embrace love in all of it’s wonderful forms? Don’t we need more of that? Do we not need more of love on this planet? That’s like starving and slapping away a sandwich because the crusts aren’t cut off.

The Mind of March 2nd

2011-03-02T07:28:00.000-08:00

Random musings…

The smell of the office when I walk in ….

Coffee
Toasted bagels
Maple syrup

*
I sat in the car this morning scanning my ride to death as usual with the radio stations. Broccoli Spears was on with her newest “Hold it Against Me”. I muttered “this song is so dumb” and hit scan again. That’s right Brittany….a 41 year old mother who works at a pharma company, has the nerve to say your song is dumb and turn it onto something else in favor like Lady Gaga or Chris Brown. Because really, who am I?

A day was spent yesterday in negative energy….not the best for the mate and I. A series of jabs, ducks and reach outs. Eventually it was time to crawl into bed. Sometimes it’s best to make up without words. Words can be beautiful, words can be dangerous, words can begin and end major events.

I communicated to him with all that my body had to offer and right before giving in, he said “You can’t pick on me all day and then just be up against me.” I laughed and proceeded. It sounded like a green light to me.

And today is the beautiful aftermath.

My 12 year old gorgeously blossoming Humanling told me this morning that she received a note from the boy she danced with at the Valentine’s Day dance. It said she was annoying with her belching. I told her that boys usually don’t write to a girl unless they like them. At least if the rules carry over from the 1980s.

When being friendly with your beloved, do not watch a Charlie Sheen interview and then mention that his angry eyes look eerily exact to your beloved’s when he is angry. It causes problems.

It's going to be a day of magickal saturation. Spring is close, whether the mercury says so or not. The weather will eventually glimpse at the calendar and we will all be gloriously surrounded with fresh, raw scents of earth, flowers and enthusiasm.

The Flugel Gourmet

2011-01-18T00:00:00.000-08:00

I can’t take a man seriously who complains, gets so heated that he starts stomping his feet and shouts with a vein bulge in his forehead, tells you what’s wrong with you and your family, simmers down enough to be silent for a bit ….and then with the pink elephant of tension in the room, farts. Without even trying to be smooth about it. Or apologize for shitting his manners out of the deal since we currently can’t speak without him needing me to adhere verbally to the script.

I mean if you gotta toot your flugel horn, whatever, but if this is some way of asserting defiance to some sort of relationship respect issue then I guess I’d better check my side of the bed if you need tougher ammo when you get REALLY angry.

Duck or Take the Hit

2011-01-15T19:04:00.000-08:00

This relationship for me lately is hugely like a game of dodgeball.

Things could be wonderful for a moment. There could have been a beautiful compliment, moment, or maybe a nice bottle of wine involved. Everyone’s feeling good. We’re on our individual computers, me enjoying my good buddy Dorothy Hopkins and the wares that we’re exchanging for Farmville. He, playing the Sims on his computer.

I’ll have a weak moment and think that it’s ok to break the barrier and make a comment on something from the social network. I’ll have noticed that two particular folks on the site that we went to junior high school with seem to have found each other in adulthood and appear as though they are in the upswing of a relationship. Much like us! Only we didn’t find each other on Facebook…my guy hates Facebook and things it is the epicenter of all that is evil. In fact, when it comes up in conversation, he usually loses control and mutates into a spitting llama.

But I try anyway. Either that or I forget how fruitless and dangerous it is to mention anything regarding the site. If I’m doing anything other than simply playing games on Facebook, then apparently I can’t be trusted.

So I mention this couple….how cute it is….and he fixates on the fact that when I was 14, I made out with the guy. Ok, true. I did that. It wasn’t even fun at the time….the guy was a bulldozer, very forceful but whatever…bygones to me. I don’t care and if I did then maybe it’s something that I’d need to work out in therapy.

I mentioned back that I was pointing out that it’s cute….two other people hooking up later on in life. We’re adults….aren’t we past that who kissed who back when Duran Duran was super popular stage? Can’t it be something non-competitive and not the least bit serious?
Dodgeball. Either I’m trying drastically to get out of the way because I’ve mentioned something from 1984 or else I’m going to get smashed with the ball. And in most cases, once the dodging starts, the ball is going to hit me anyway.

It’s too bad that I didn’t use better discretion and allowed the funness of the moment dictate my words. Because then he started down the ladder of descent slowly but no doubt, without any other aim except to reach the bottom. Now I’m hearing about how there are a billion ex-boyfriends in my life. Yes, I am “friends” on Facebook with exes. We aren’t talking daily. Or weekly. Or monthly. Sheesh, lucky if it is as regular as an insurance paid pap smear.
But my words are as good as a used car salesman’s around here. My partner is a well intentioned man. Just too bad that his emotions and mind are warped a bit due to calluses from his past. What can you do with someone who won’t believe you or stop policing your every sentence?

I have learned that there seems to be a lot more that I should not say than I should share. I never know what memory bomb is going to blow an evening, a weekend, a good part of a week into shrapnel.

I miss my Self. I miss my freedom to think and speak without the Thought Police turning my home into a prison. I’ve learned how to work hard to just be quiet and hope that Hurricane Offended will blow by without ripping off too many roofs.

The only thing these fights allow me to do is to leave the house with my girl and head to Borders where we can pretend for a couple of hours that the world is right again. Where the bargain bins are full of life. Where people smile and the lights are golden happy colors. Where the little man in our bodies shuts off the cortisol switch.

I had an alternate day of beauty, awe and stress. It is my children and my memories of hope that have given me the most pleasure today. But that is for a different post.

The Scissors Czar

2011-01-05T19:13:00.000-08:00

If you can name a noun – any person, place or thing, I guarantee you, mate and I can come up with the super harshest way to fight over it. Not even a noun. How about a piece of grammar? Oh sure, we could do the whole I before E except after C rule but that’s an obvious one. Mate enjoys CORRECTING any perceived faux pas with his RED MARKER VOICE during any fight. I personally find it so irritating that if the world were run on cortisol, I’d have the monopoly and be super rich. Also, super spent because cortisol is just so dang exhausting. I’d also be a highly paid entertainer since my left arm would blow up with 95mph blood rushes barreling through as soon as he starts nitpicking.

I’ve got loads of fun things to think about today. If my Humanling were donuts, tomorrow she’d be a dozen. I can’t wait to give her a fun birthday! At least I hope to. My older daughter, Miz Eye, is currently carrying my GrandFetus and had her very first doctor appointment today so I am anxiously awaiting to hear all about it!

However, as I skip along my travels in Bright Spots in my Life, I run smack into the Scissors Czar.

No no, kids, don't make the foolish mistake that I made...he IS real. You may be lucky enough to never cross paths with this Species of Anger, but make no mistake….he exists.

And his name is on my mailbox!

How exactly will you know if you see him? Check for these signs below:

~He will have a SAFE.

~He will give you the last digit of the safe and tell you that wherever the dial is, you can turn it to the last digit this way and open it if you need to.

~He will make you subscribe to the idea that he trusts you and eventually you’ll up the ante and get the 2 year subscription that allows you to go in the safe Just Because you are trusted so much.

~You have never actually gone into the safe without his asking for something because well, it’s his Stuff and you don’t need anything in there. But you know HOW to.

~He makes this strange noise a lot. It comes from his butt and it sounds like “GWORT!”

~Your 11 year old asks for a pair of scissors in order to complete a homework assignment. You can’t find any in the house but you know where they exist. The Holy Scissor Trilogy is in that safe, in its original plastic package with plastic snap for extra protection against theft or loss. You turn the dial, the way the Permissions have previously allotted. Handing scissors to the child, you close the safe, putting it as was so that little curious hands do not try to emulate the hands of their Fair Princess Mother and get into the safe.

~You hear a burst of anger! The Red Marker Voice is coming! It exclaims words like “underhanded” and “sneaky”. You know it is wrong, the child isn’t underhanded. She’s Left-handed. DUH.

~But it continues on. You are to be SHAMED for SNEAKING into such a world of combos, scissors and the net of guilt is thrown upon you. You are branded a sneak and a jerk even though the scissors are being used right out in the open. Although you have the combo and the permissions you were never supposed to USE IT!!!!

~The scissors you were using disappear. And the child must finish her homework with either her canine teeth or a sharp steak knife. Being vegetarians, you opt for teeth since proper steak knife etiquette has not yet come to this town.

I warn you children, be mindful and aware!!! The Scissors Czar can creep up on you like a sudden power wedgie in the dark! However, if you are listening, he can be heard in one of two ways…..

You’ll hear him rustling through a box of truffles that you gave him and he will eat them without so much as a mumbled Thank You…or…

You’ll find yourself sentenced to a auditory blast of “GWORT!”

There's no Need to Fear, Saint Fluffy Puff is Here!

2011-01-05T15:24:00.000-08:00

Did I say balance?!? Silly me, allow me to clarify…..Balance on a tightrope that has one solid thread left and is on fire. Did I mention I was in platform shoes and my safety net is made of a bed of nails?

One thing that I am grateful for about myself is the Buoy effect. You can hold me down momentarily. But it is my nature to take my surroundings and buoy up and find a way to enjoy moments and enjoy life. Unless….unless there is a constant barge parked on top of said buoy.
I am currently either breathing in fog that makes me forget what language is, particularly what I’ve said and what it actually means. Or perhaps I am living with someone who takes my words, dips them in acid, distorts the shape, meaning and intention and throws them back to me so that I have no clue how I could have possibly caused the feelings in the other person to be so offended and ugly. Either way, there’s a door here and Fog hasn’t allowed me to find the knob.
I know life is better than it is right at this very moment. It can be infinitely better in the very next moment. Bridging the gap, owning it and breathing it is another action altogether. I love magic, I adore serenity and if a feeling glitters, I want to roll around in it and get it in my hair.

So eventually today, because my mate has decided to be defiant and try to soldier on through his physical pain and not ask for any help (due to the argument weather), I left the house and went where….????? To Borders!!! Because Borders and I are having an illicit affair. You’ll see. Borders WILL marry me someday.

I was really looking for gifts for my Humanling, who turns 12 tomorrow. How exciting! Unfortunately though, our home looks like Who Did it and Ran emotionally. Humanling has asked for no fighting for her birthday. I am going to do my part to hand it over on a silver, gold and chocolate platter! Hopefully if mate gets into a miffy tiff, there will be a phone booth nearby for me to jump into and change into Saint Welcome Mat so that I can handle his air barbs without reacting. But I can only do so much….so whatever you do, don’t hog the phone booths tomorrow. I promised Humanling some peace.

So while out today, I sorta accidentally found Enrique Iglesias in my hand. For $9.99. A penny more and I’d have to haggle. Enrique is a good sport though….he willingly sang to me all the way home…in Spanish AND English. There is something about the passion in his voice that makes me not even care that I don’t know if he’s making fun of my mom or not in Spanish. It’s all good. He can roll his “R”s.

I had my doubts I’ll admit…only because have you ever gotten so jazzed about a CD and then listened to samples on Amazon just to find out that what you’re hearing is two steps below ‘Eh’? I could swear I did that with this CD. But for the price, I gave Enry the benefit. Totally worth it for me. I love the duet he does on “I Can Feel Your Heartbeat feat. Nicole Scherzinger”. So much give and take, twisting, intertwining, like there is nothing in between the two voices. Whew. Got lost there. The link provided (Enry’s name) is for the deluxe version, which has eluded me. I had no idea or else I would have gotten that one. Apparently unless you party at i-tunes or Target, you ain’t getting’ it.

This was part of the joy of distraction today after another morning in Rotten Relationshipville. Mate has insisted on couples therapy, which may or may not help. I tend to be a tad skeptical, but am open to being corrected. I think needing couples’ therapy after only a year and a half together is a raging red flag. It’s tough to see the depth of feeling and love and openness at one point, just to have the window slam down on both hearts as they try to slip in just before the gap closes.

So windows, hearts, farts and the phone booth. Tomorrow is Humanling’s day and she deserves a carefree day to feel joy, fun and less like a mediator.

In the meantime, here's a eyeball's taste of Enrique.

Tsunami from Across the Room

2011-01-02T20:19:00.000-08:00

He only hears “Oh…honey…” from across the room as I am on my laptop and he is in bed playing the Sims on a DSi.

What he doesn’t know is how loaded “Oh…honey…” really is.

It means … I love you.

It means …. I want you right now more than you can even fathom. You just had surgery so I can only think about it for now. But know that you are wanted and desired every moment that I look at you and every moment that I’m not.

It means My mind has been so full of decisions about us and balancing it all out but something always pulls us back together like fiery magnets..out to love through hurt and hurt through love, then figure it out ….breathe into each other and try to find the calm waters until we both decide to drown in each other beneath the surface once again.

It means “I remember you. The boy in the barn back in 1983. The one that I connected with and risked punishment for coming home in the dark for. The first one to unlatch the door to hormonal spikes, the same one that who does it to me now, still, raging more than I could even know existed.”

It means “I can’t imagine this life without you.”

“Oh…honey…” I love you.

You didn’t ask, but I’m telling you.

Lovin' Eleven

2011-01-01T19:09:00.000-08:00

How I would simply adore to write a witty and decadent post to start off this new year! What a gorgeous number – 2011! I’m not sure how it will play out as there are too many things on the sometimes porous/sometimes closed for renovations mind.

I am currently doing one of those things that I find super fun and relaxing – exchanging virtual farm wares with my good buddy, Dorothy Hopkins. I double screen, side by side, to write and gift, all at once. That displays one thing that I’d actually like to change within myself and have been trying to slowly get away from…too much multi-tasking. Once, (meaning, my whole life) I thought I was fabulous at the art of doing with 2 arms what I should only be able to do with ten. I can finally admit at 41 that I sorta suck at it. That means I only half hear someone when they are talking or half do my work while trying to research for my radio show. Many times, it results in that cake that is burnt on the outside and gooey on the inside. Even as I write this post, the Honey is bringing up stuff over and over again and talking so I’ve had to put it aside until there is silence.

Ah….silence. Sometimes silence means doing housework. But then mother’s guilt is softly rapping on the door as Humanling makes a snowman, all by herself outside. I’ve always been quite the pill when it comes to hanging out in the snow. I’m more of a snow wuss than snow bunny. I like sledding. For 10 minutes. Then I want back in the house with a book or the internet or kitty litter. Whatever gets me back inside. But right now, just perhaps I’ll throw on some jeans and surprise her with a snowball. I’ve thrown enough of them on Farmville. Time for a live wire!

Ok, post Snow Dude Idea…..as I got ready to go out, Humanling came in. However, she was greeted with the choice of me going back out with her or she could have hot chocolate with marshmallows! She’s a kid. Marshmallows win even if they were on a raw onion sandwich.
Perhaps this year is about being direct with figuring out what I’m about. And balance. I’m creeping more and more toward those things that I heart with all of my human emotion…writing being one of them. But wait! There’s more! I just have to get there.

I’m currently reading a book by Marc Allen, who will be on my Scorpion Equinox show in a couple of weeks. Small, tiny book, but KA-BLAM! Explosive with amazing and simple ideas.
I will read more. I will write more. And yoga yoga yoga.

But again, Balance.

I enjoy silence. A LOT of silence. Honey likes to share a lot of thoughts. Emotions. News flashes. Wind directional changes. Wind from his hindquarters. Sports tidbits. And. And. And.
So we need balance. I like having someone who shares. I like having time to read and write. The ebb and flow is essential to my nature.

I’m usually more of a Samhain-Intention type of person more than a January 1st chuck wagon dragger. But I’ll admit there is something to that shiny new year that does make me want to molt.

Key words this year for me will be magick, direction, action, balance, serenity, love, open heart and spirit.

And now after writing that, I should probably write it in my journal so that it will be available to happy slap me on a daily basis, lest I have a moment of Rotten Evil.

Happy happy 2011 to all of you, lovely lovely readers.

Wet Noodles are Not Amusable aka The Finger Poem

2010-12-29T13:46:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-12-28T19:33:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-26T15:25:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-12-24T11:41:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-12-23T15:46:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-12-14T00:00:00.000-08:00

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)

2010-12-13T07:01:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-12T14:59:00.001-08:00

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

2010-12-05T20:20:00.001-08:00

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

2010-12-05T10:12:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-02T13:01:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-11-30T09:46:00.001-08:00

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

2010-11-29T00:00:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-28T00:00:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-27T06:09:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-26T13:26:00.001-08:00

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....

2010-11-22T11:43:00.000-08:00

~ 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

2010-11-18T03:56:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-12T15:19:00.000-08:00

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

2010-10-31T19:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-27T10:57:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-12T12:01:00.000-07:00

Listening to old/newly released Dylan….

….a beautiful fall day outside…

….working from home….

….a wonderful day with my mate….

…coffee…

…thoughtful silence…

*Happy*

2010-10-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-03T19:47:00.000-07:00

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.

October Weekends are for Happy!

2010-10-02T04:52:00.000-07:00

Good to the morning and the day! The sun is hanging out in a blue blue sky and you’d never know there was an ark to land previously. It’s a great day for dreaming, planning and doing.

The coffee water is on and Humanling and I are hoping to find our prop scenes set up with an October hayride that leads to a pumpkin patch and then ice cream! It’s rather early for me to be up on a weekend but after last night’s cliff dive, I simply don’t feel like laying in bed to allow any sort of festering.

A good morning kiss has been offered and now it is time to Positively start the day! And this is where I need to remember to be….the space that accommodates sunshine, floating poofy seeds and good times.

As soon as the dog stops his disgustingly loud lick fest.

Shall We go to the Fair?

2010-10-01T21:56:00.001-07:00

When to let go and when to delve in? Now I have heard long ago, from an adult that I trusted at the time that there is a ‘wrong’ way to fight. No spiked gloves, no flame throwing, oh and no name calling. She was huge on what she termed “Fair Fighting” and at 18 years old, I’d never heard of it before. She was also going through a divorce and I never heard her fight with her husband, although I lived in the same home.

I’ve abided by this rule, mainly. I can’t say 100% that I’ve been painted by honorable artists trying to capture the essence of Sainthood and Cheek Turning. I haven’t been. And I especially haven’t been in this particular relationship that I’m in now.

So it makes me wonder….but not in a Zeppelinish kind of way, why is that? Where has the long lost art of fair fighting gone? It seems to be extinct in this one fifth of the local zip code.

Is it the person I am with….or is it me? I enjoy a rather artistic palate so I’m going to have to merge the two and all infinite variations to believe that there are a multitude of reasons that lie within this specific dynamic.

Did I simply date Yes Men in the past? Did I finally meet Mr. Me in male form? Or is he really this super uptight about whether or not my daughter’s things are on the bathroom counter, while he has a tiny rotating collection in there as well?

I somehow used to think everything was perfect between us….and now when he opens his mouth, I hear Alien. I don’t get it. I don’t even get how he got there. I start to forget who I really am because I am hearing who he is telling me I am through the meaning he obtains from my words. And then I think, “huh”? What circle line did he cruise on to fish that one out of the water?

Personally, I do believe in fair fighting. I’ve just discovered that at other phases in my life, I was better at it. Or perhaps it is that I really do try…..and try….but then comes the parade of my words, in costume. I don’t recognize them when he tells them back to me. I get angry and frustrated that his tangient is going to start based on falsehoods and although I shouldn’t interrupt during his conch white knuckling, I do anyway. I can’t bear to let him streak down an uncharted path without reason. It’s as though my car needs oil and he brings me feed for an elephant that I don’t have, telling me it will ride better when it isn’t hungry.

Is dragging in a fight from a year ago constructive? During a ‘disagreement’, last year’s fight, which nearly has a one year BIRTHDAY, is dragged in. I happen to find this as unhelpful as smashing a headcheese pie in someone’s face, however, some people feel that it is certainly productive. For the record, again, I am not one of them. It’s as though you are prohibited to evolve, to learn from a past verbal fencing match. Isn’t that life? Don’t we build upon our newly acquired daily knowledge…even if it is merely about what is making the other person tick or become ticked off? Don’t we learn what and where the new roads should be created by the twists and turns of the information brought to light? Why dial back into the old stuff? I’ve forgotten it, why am I being forced to back pedal and re-learn it again?

So I will allow tomorrow, when I open my eyes, to start a new day, to say GOOD MORNING and mean it…to allow positivity to sink in. He can join me if he wants.

Face Kitties

2010-10-01T10:41:00.001-07:00

The rain comes in from all over this week. Hurricane season had onions for lunch and is enjoying it’s after affects. Leaves fall, glossy and decorative anywhere they land. Branches reach up from the ground to offer themselves up for kindling, now with the cooler season approaching. The cats….well….MY cats…Azrael – my hunter and all around Tough Girl Mush, demands to go out and do business, even though there is a litter box available. She probably just doesn’t want to share it with Princess, the Persian Poof, who does enjoy going outside, wide eyed and skittish. When Azrael runs, it’s with stealth, grace and strength. You can hear her paws gallop across the earth. When Princess runs, it looks more like she’s being chased. Her eyes seem terrified and she is much more clumsy than Az. Princess is usually Humanling’s Bed Décor. She just flat out refuses to deal with the rain.

I am of late, trying to really dig in and see what I’m truly made of. I see many many instances in my life of where I could have been more true….to others of course, but that would have involved being true to myself.

In the meantime, during all of this thought, of which I feel there is never enough time to deeply immerse in, but scraps of moments where you can perhaps sketch one out to think about later, I have also to see yet another side of me. Video Game Me.

In Farmville, I am leveled into the 30s. I love making wine and fruit drinks. I am obsessive about my crops and have decided that my farm looks tons cooler as a beach. I jump with joy when securing a Llama or a Himalayan kitty from another player. I can’t seem to expand my chicken coop fast enough and therefore have decorated the outside of my white picket fence with chickens. I have found that I have no patience for growing things that take 2 days. I enjoy a variety of bloomers and plant things at varying harvest times. While I enjoy harvesting and planting, I don’t enjoy plowing as much.

In Frontierville, I obsess about chopping down trees to create more land. I’m a wood lover (literal and figuratively!) I love the premade goals because of the element of surprise and the task of making them. I use other people to feed as many of my animals as I can. In both Farmville and Frontierville, I’m a gift giver of great proportions.

Now Mafia Wars isn’t something I wanted to play instantly. Frontierville forced me into it or else it said that I can’t have a horseshoe pit. Or rather, I can HAVE one, because it sort of made me take one when I signed on one day, but I won’t be able to USE it unless I play the listed five games and level up a few times. Very very sneaky and fabulous marketing, that Frontierville! In order to complete your horseshoe pit, you have to date the other games too and claim your pieces. ALL of the other games…unless you want to use that elusive and hard to get special sort of money they have (horseshoes for Frontier, FV bucks for Farmville) to pay for it. Which you can’t, because you usually won’t have it unless you obsess so very much that you run out to Target or Walmart to purchase a card that will get you more cash. So in Mafia Wars, I have no idea what I’m doing but apparently I have robbed a few warehouses, taken on some thugs and am really wanting to be a Pig Master. I am swapping pigs with an ex boyfriend and former co-worker from years ago, whom I haven’t spoken a word with since we’ve become Facebook friends over a year or so ago.

The gift giving and swapping in these games seems to me to actually BE communication. Hey, I need something but I’m also communicating with you and will give to you … will you give to me? You will?! That’s great! We are both acknowledged! Would we talk about this in person ever? Probably not. Or maybe a quick conversation, end-punctuated with “See you in Farmville”.

I have been also trying Tropical Isle, but really, anything more than one game seems to be nearly a job. Tropical Isle is also being thrust upon me due to my really want to please Frontierville and meeting my goal of completing my Horseshoe Pit. Eventually, FRV, I AM going to have that Pit. Even if I grow tomatoes in it, so help me, there will be a pit. I am not really so much into caring about why I have a Tiki Thing on my island or what the point is of upgrading it. I’m impatient with this character of mine….she digs way too slow and I can’t simply point and click her onto the other spaces ahead of time like I can with FV and FTV. In fact, it isn’t like there is a real POINT to any of these games, but with this one I see it the least.

I actually feel guilty for the amount of time at home that I spend on these games. So after I get what I want, in way of a Horseshoe Pit, I might have to dump some of them. Ah, is this another insight into a part of me? Am I one of those people who will dump you because I’ve gotten what I want??? Absolutely not. Because I don’t actually *want* anything from my friends, except for them to be my friend in the way most natural to both of us.

So. See you in Farmville! And please be sure to accept these shovels. It means that I was thinking of you.

2010-10-01T07:34:00.000-07:00

A glorious work from home day yesterday.

We’ve been woken up with roaring winds and rain. For me this is the most perfect weather.

Sent the Humanling off to school and then my mate and I decided to have a quiet early morning date to ourselves before I started work.

Eventually, we lay, listening to the wind, knowing that the leaves are swirling around in the air above the grass, the driveway, the chicken coop. The temperature is mild and the air feels gentle and refreshing through a window.

The smell of coffee permeated the house since we had it brewing in our French Press…the only way we enjoy coffee for the most part.

There is so much to enjoy about a rainy day….grace periods for things we might not ordinarily do, simply because weather might dictate certain activities are deemed for tomorrow, when the sun comes out.

He went to walk his mom’s dogs. I sat quietly in the house, after a lunch of yoga, vacuuming and mail checking.

Christmas early yesterday! Two of the books that I had ordered came in….One of ravens and crows and one of the Harlem Renaissance. I love when a book that I hadn’t previously, is finally in my hands. To touch it, flip through the pages…explore it like you can’t quite do virtually with the kindles and nooks of these days. Yep, I’m a book fogie!

A second pot of coffee water boiled on the stove for our next round of steamy, warm sharing. He returned home from rain dog walking and it was then time to grind the beans.

I wrote this yesterday and then edited it today for time tense.

But what really happened is that yes, it WAS INDEED time to grind the coffee beans. However, the electricity went out and that 2nd pot of coffee had to stay a simple pot of water, cooling off in a dark house. We instead lay down and napped. Rainy days that bring surprises.

Dusting Off

2010-09-29T16:21:00.001-07:00

My mate has successfully received the transfer of stomach love that I have given him. He lies in bed, recovering from a mild day before of annoying pains and sweats that kept him from fiddling around with his plants, but did allow him to do anything that absolutely needed to be done. I also had this preferable version of the gift that keeps on giving. I went to work last Friday with it and worked the day, decided it best not to eat and hey, Barry Manilow…I made it throoooough the Pain!

Only to come home and collapse into bed with one single notice: Please take care of everything else….I just need be left alone to die with my pains. Then I’ll be ok.

And ok I was and he will be too.

After sending a crimp-haired Humanling off to school for picture day, I crawled back into bed with my mate to snuggle up and try and restore some energy for the day. Last night we decided to make that 3rd cup of coffee at 9:30pm in order to enjoy time longer. We enjoyed. I played Farmville and did some brush up work for today’s radio show, he played his kenken puzzles online (http://www.kenken.com/).

As we snuggled, I drifted in and out of thoughts…well needed reflections. I thought of how a little over a year ago, my mate slept with his arm around me all night long, no matter how dead and useless the limb had become from lack of circulation. A wonderful gesture, although I don’t wish him discomfort. I thought it was Knightly, romantic. I moved in and will admit that when you crash dive into an ocean at night, you can’t always tell where the shallow water is, nor how jagged the rocks.

Within a month or two of moving in, I slowly realized….this isn’t exactly what I thought. The things that I was ok with, he wasn’t. I don’t mean he was ‘nah’ wasn’t….he REALLY wasn’t. Life Lesson Severity kind of wasn’t.

He was way more angry and militant about things than I had thought….in fact, I hadn’t thought this a matter at all. Didn’t realize it existed. Slowly, my self-worth and self-esteem were swirling into a boil of questions. When they finally emerged, they had cooled off only to become hardened like iron. My emotional rebellion.

My mate is a wonderful man…loyal as they come. Can cook insanely well…to the point where you find yourself requesting favorites. He’s a perfectionist. I like to have flaws. I like flaws to be cute, endearing, unique. Kind of identifying almost, like that little Eggo Waffle campaign they did years ago where they left the variating batter pieces on the outside so you could identify your waffle from your brother’s. I have figured out that around here, flaws are something to be fixed. They aren’t cute. They are complaints. Faults. Faults seem to be the formal Tuxedo version of Flaws. Flaws rather enjoy a grungy outfit while Faults stand out in patent leather.

I didn’t realize that I would be with someone who when mixed with my anger alchemy, fight so nasty. Would make me feel as though my head was about to burst since I would be told that I wasn’t remembering events of the argument correctly, that I was rewriting the history. I learned that although I never thought it was ok to pull from prior arguments, this relationship was going to prove to me that nothing is sacred in that vein. Prior issues with certified apologies will snowball from the current topic of hell and no matter how often I show apologetic receipt, there is no fending it off until it is ready to temporarily die again. I have found that it seems that I am told that all arguments are mostly my fault. That I hold the key to allowing these creatures to run amok and frequently must be sleepwalking with key in hand. I have discovered my new defensive mechanism in the form of apologizing, whether or not I believe in it, to derail the chugging train off its tracks of insanity so that I may have some peace. I have learned that although I may follow the former sentence and apologize, it is a crapshoot. The train doesn’t always derail. Sometimes an apology is merely fuel for a faster ride.

I have also come to find out that My Jekyll during an argument does not usually allow pause enough for another person to speak. I’ve been schooled in the art of talking/arguing/shouting without much of a break for periods of time I never thought possible.

My mate is and can be quite wonderful. But everyone comes with their baggage. His landmines left by former acquaintances, family members and exes, are everywhere and I can’t quite avoid them, even when floating. I might say something quite neutral or even as a compliment and not realize that I have now sledge hammered another discreetly set trap. I’ve no experience with this kind of set up.

These things can really break a person’s mind down into various questions…..have I always started arguments? Did I really start this one? Are my points really invalid? Am I really turning things around or is he? Do I really have these specific issues that he is pinning on me because it seems like he has them…? How come I haven’t had these issues with other people? How come none of my previous arguments with my previous significant others went like this and with these problems? Am I looking deep enough into myself? Why can’t I think anymore? Why am I going numb during these? Am I really difficult? Is he? If I dialed up his exes, would they tell me their question list and would it include these very ones?

Why is it so difficult to communicate at times….something innocent and non-threatening sounds to the other person like its wrapped in a Tone or has a critical bite to it?

A year ago I found so many things were not as they seemed, while many other things were also rather nice surprises. I suppose that I could say, That’s Life. Surprises all over.

As I lie there in his arms, my mind moved to one month ago. One month ago we had probably the worst fight we’ve ever had. One that includes back up for possible relocation separately. It was a rough time and neither of us have completely left it behind yet. There have been plenty of hand holding moments, intimate dalliances together, meals cooked and sadness and celebratory happenings.

So I focused on the present moment. What does THIS feel like? Let me open my eyes and look up at him from where I lay on his chest. What do I see….what do I feel?

I feel as though I have taken myself away and attempted to build a lonely bomb shelter. His arm feels sweet around me. When it is there, I know it is there meaningfully. Mine isn’t an overly affectionate lapdog, waiting to use all his time to pet. So when I do his feel hand on me or his arm around me, I know it is deliberate. That feels good.

He feels that I don’t like him, but I do. I lost who I was in the last year….have become angry and confused as to what my roles were as self appointment and what they are one year later. I am basically wading through a dirty puddle and can’t see the bottom, no matter how shallow.

So what have I done? I’ve decided to be proactive and figure out who I am. I have written a list of things that I want to learn everything about. My interests will lead the way. A blog is to follow soon…more details down the road….short or long.

In the meantime, I will love my sometimes difficult relationship and try to remember how to live with love instead of having to constantly look for how I may have been shaped by my willingness to give up pieces of myself to please another. I will love him, but I will love him as myself, not the person who thinks she will gets along better with him if I do/don’t/say this or that. I’m sure if I get my soul to take a nice cat stretch and be silent for a bit on my sun spot on the rug, I will emerge in joy.

Nice Knowing You, Junie

2010-09-27T12:02:00.000-07:00

Book Sales! It doesn’t seem to matter the amount of books falling out of shelves, cabinets, closets or car doors….open a box of cereal and out comes yet another unread but Meaning To Read, Book.

Books are one of THE highest loves in my life. I hate to be a fogey but I’m not sure that I’ll ever get a Nook or Kindle or anything that requires me to charge up my application to simply read.

My beloved is not so much the collector type….he likes to, but instead of reading his books, Means To and instead buys another daily NY Times. That’s all kinds of dandy and informed of him….I enjoy his papers too. I usually see the headlines as I line the guinea pigs cages with them. Sometimes I will even put a few aside during cleaning.

Humanling and I love a great library book sale. Translation: You Can Afford Sixteen books for the cost of One Hardcover – Possibly More! She doesn’t have quite the patience that I do unless it has something to do with a video game device but she will usually find some way to occupy her time.

We brought home many interesting titles and I wonder about the history of the giver, the owner, the buyer, the occasion of receipt if given. At the sale, my hands lightly ran over the covers of books older than my deceased grandmother. I opened one….it had writing in it and the date was 1906. I can’t capitalize 1906 but I would if exclamatory numbers were on this keyboard.

When we got home, Humanling decided that it was time to pack up many of her older books, knowing that when you bring some home, some should probably go. She started pulling out things that I could see she never was that interested in and then the shocker. For about 5 years, she has been reading this particular series, Junie B Jones. She gathered all of her dog eared Junie’s and placed them in the box. No matter how many book guttings we’ve done, the Junie’s were sacred. She hadn't yet been done with them and I hadn't pushed her. Now they were leaving her hands and being laid down with the other books that never did mean anything for her.

I felt that weird Mother’s Resistance to Moving On and Growing Up.

“Junie B’s?” I said to her. “Are you sure?”

She looked at me solemnly but with confident seriousness.

“I’m almost twelve now. Twelve year olds don’t read Junie B. Jones.”

I looked at her and all I could muster was resignedly, “You’re right. You are right.”

And watched her grow up just a tiny bit more.

Happy Mabon!

2010-09-24T12:51:00.000-07:00

We are now into the most magical season that I can think of! It's so full of vibe and joy that I can hardly stand myself! I hope you are all enjoying the beginning of this Autumn season and have many plans to get out there and smell the decaying leaves, oooo and ahh at the foliage and drink something pleasant and strong!

I realize that autumn decided to literally drop in on the 11th hour a couple of days ago. No matter, I'd been preparing mentally for days. My honey tried to throw a non magical obstacle in my path in the form of a technicality...."It's not fall until 11:09 tonight"....which somehow I already knew. But it's like a birthday! If you are born before midnight, no matter how late in the day, it is still the day you generally celebrate. Hence, we brought it in on the 22nd anyway!

We are very lucky in that we have the real Farmville on the land we live on. Apple, pear and peach trees, a garden full of veggies and chickens in the back who provide us with eggs.

I went out the morning of Mabon and collected apples from our trees.

There's something about picking an apple straight off the tree and using it right away.

When I was little, I thought those apples with leaves still on them in the grocery store were super special. Not something you see every day! At least not at a chain grocery store. So despite my honey really wanting to also make a pie his way, I went ahead with mine. My mate is a super good cook. I'll be that his perfectionist ways are going to land us an amazing pie. In the meantime, I had a holiday to bake a pie for and wasn't waiting for Julia Childs to walk in and guide me. Instead, I leaned on Pillsbury to help me out a bit with the crust. I've made exactly one crust in my life.

Hated it.

So in the interest of time and good vibes, I bought a ready to bake crust.

Here is the orchestra of players.

A handsome bunch if I ever saw one.

Turns out that 6 cups of apples does not resemble what we see here. It would probably show another 2 or 3 apples. That's when I flew in the Guest Apple. The Studio Session apple, as it were. The apple who plays keyboard for a song or two and then flits off with payment but no one knows who it was or even cares so much. We are grateful that this particular apple joined the party to help fill out the pie a bit. The leaves are not from this apple. I placed them there to make it feel more native.

Forty-five minutes or so later, the orchestra emerges....all playing a perfect tune. Including the Pillsbury Quartet. Not bad for a store made crust!

And now my pants might be a tad tighter and my stomach sorta hurts but 2 days later....there is maybe 2 pieces left. But what a fun celebration that night and for dessert, there was pie.

The Get Away Moments are Here

2010-09-16T05:35:00.000-07:00

Now that Humanling is hauled off the a.m. by the school bus, my fiery beloved and I suddenly realized that we can have those Eight Hour getaways again. A horrible thing for anyone when their boss tells them they had better start taking some days off. After the grieving process of having to listen to the boss, we started right away with yesterday being our first.

After patting my adorable girl on the butt and sending her off to absorb curriculum, we delighted in Eating Out. There is a favorite breakfast place for us in nearby Sherman, CT called American Pie. It started out as quite a chilly morning and the feel of a cozy town restaurant was perfect.

The bakery goods are a delight to view through the case. We did our best to talk ourselves down from the sugar ledge and moved on to our main attraction for the day. The Innis Free Gardens in NY. Honey spent an extra half hour reversing and circling and finally realized that he only needed to keep going straight.

I've got a healthy fear of Port-O-Potties. I've got a more robust fear of Holding It. So once we got there and watered the air freshner smelling plastic containers, we started off on our day of breathing natural art.

This tree below reminded me too much of the Poltergeist tree that takes Robbie out of his bedroom window.

Even more special is just connecting with your honey. We've had our share of problems, but where there is love and commitment, there is strength. When it's good, it's simply can't be topped. When we allow ourselves to engage in a bad moment, we lose who we are meant to be. Yesterday was one of those days to put in the memory bank to pull out and revel in. A wonderful day. We remembered who we really are.

I'm fully aware that I've got nothing to give on what kind of tree this is. But I do so heart trees!!!! I still haven't figured out the root of that but in the meantime, I must have photos to remember them by. They are wise, silent, haunting, spiritual and quite the feast for the visual palette.

It's simply too much to cram all these wonderful photos into one blog post. So consider this a Part One!

Now I'm going to use the remaining few moments of silence to Be before my Curriculum Absorbent Child comes in the door and wears another step in that path called "I'm Hungry".

An Early and Beautiful Fall-ish Day

2010-09-13T12:53:00.001-07:00

A wonderful day to walk out to the garden. The last of the vegetables will be harvested in the next month or so. There were also wonderful flowers to adore and bring in. I used to be against cutting flowers....let them be gorgeous for everyone outside!!! Dead things! Yipes! But after taking just a mere few and leaving the rest for the bees, I feel good about it. Our window sill is brightened and brilliant.

Add THIS to the When Did I Turn Ninety pile.....I never enjoyed mums. Never. That's Ever with an 'n'. And then last Friday, I jumped from a young 40 to a young 90 when I saw how wonderfully Autumn they would be in our yard.

Just a walk around our neighborhood after doing many chores. I love chores when interspersed with Moments.

My mate has lived in our home for 10 years. My scorecard puts me at 9 years less than that. This is the first year he has ever seen the quince bush produce an actual quince. Admittingly, this is its best side. The other side appears to be a doorway for Someone who Lives in it. I've never had quince but for all it's gross rot on the non-viewable side, it smells amazing.

Another photo from one of those neighborhood walking Moments.

Mate decided that he should weed. He doesn't usually do chores and Moments on the weekend. He likes straight drill sargeant chores and then the rest of the weekend is a Moment.

I am running for Queen of Kindling. Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiit....I'm running for KING of kindling. I have no idea why I enjoy hunting kindling. Finding, touching, breaking, carrying. I adore trees as well so perhaps it is connecting with the bounty of the tree.

And my very favorite....that 2nd cup of coffee that I have in the afternoons. We use a French Press. If you haven't tried one, it's amazing. So simple, so clean and doesn't involve electricity. You do need to boil the water first though. We are quite spoiled....we always look forward to new coffees, fair trade, organic, and enthusiastically enjoy our old favorites. Sometimes we blend two together. After using the French Press I could never go back. Nor can I drink the free coffee at work....it turns my face eight shades of red and makes me hate.

No clues as to what the new season will bring but I am hoping, many many more Moments.

2010-09-11T16:41:00.000-07:00

A rarity.

Me walking a dog.

And.

Our dog on a leash.

What you can't see:

the burn in my fingers from Mr. Z yanking and pulling.

eventually he was calm.

a car even stopped to admire him, and they had two of their own pups!

Then I Turned Around...and it was Gone!

2010-09-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

I don’t know how many of you remember, but I clearly recall standing on the current far side of the bridge a few months ago. Summer was beginning, school was out…a season of possibility and surprise!

Our list included Summer’s greatest hits such as Eating out of the garden, planting and tending to flowers, growing Black krim tomatoes, camping in the back yard, getting corn form a local farm stand, enjoying a huge helping of home-made local ice cream and just in general, a lot of barefoot walking anywhere it could be done.

And this summer had it’s great moments. Freshly fried zucchini with homemade marinara sauce from the garden eaten outside as a family, Sunday evening jazz and blues music softly lending itself to an outdoor beer or wine, weeding (yes, weeding!), watching the Irish Bells come up and actually see how the namesake was derived. Humanling, who has epilepsy, had her yearly EEG during the hottest days of over 100 degrees. Poor thing with her head wrapped up tight in a bandage and the Wrapologist telling me, “Keep her head from sweating”.

This summer also brought a few of the worst fights my mate and I have ever experienced together as well. During those fights, never wanting to give up or leave, just Fix.

Everytime I think I have learned about myself, I realize that I cannot hold onto who I think I am right now. This will not stick. I will be different in a week or a month or a year. I’d love to take those pieces and moments of me that I enjoy and put them in a lidded jar, to contain what I know I will forget. I will forget all those wonderful qualities that I have when a fight comes around. Or when my mate asks why I did something This way instead of That way. Or when I lose my patience and snap on my little girl that I only want to shield from scars of all kinds.

It’s so easy to become down on ourselves. No wonder there’s a market for self esteem and confidence books. And thankfully for the younger sect as well.

But buying a book isn’t good enough. Practice practice practice. My Humanling needs to see me feel like a million percent Light in order to see that it is not only possible, but to bridge her to her own 100%.

I need to prioritize teaching her how to feel Safe with her feelings. That feelings are always okay. She is never wrong for having them. Reactions on the other hand…..our house needs time to slow down between exchanges. Reactions could be different, given a buffer of time. Until we can do so, I can only hyper focus on my own….being attentive, aware and deciding right then and there to drift with the moment on a non-reactive river.

Our summer saw the illness and death of my mate’s stepfather, who was essentially the only and best male role model he has ever had since he was about 13. We watched three strokes, at one per month and then finally on August 21st, stood in his hospital room and watched his last exhalation.

This has been the only death that I have witnessed. I am still trying to wrap my head around watching a bundle of 62 years that laughed, raged, experienced, married twice, raised and adored two daughters and become something huge to many, just end. Simply. No drama, no final gasp like on TV. Just an exhale of Done.

This has been the only time I have witnessed “Til Death Do Us Part” and watch his wonderful wife devastated, yet graceful, accept the reality of this vow.

Due to Bill’s death, I have now been to only one funeral that had a New Orleans 2nd Line feel to it. Bill’s son in law played the “When the Saints Go Marching In” on trombone as we waved handkerchiefs and twirled parasols on our way to the reception hall.

At the same reception, I heard wonderful and lively stories about the dearly departed. He was a wine connoisseur, and had earlier on in life, his own wine shop that refused to carry cheap wine. Our table had the best wine I’ve ever tasted. A wonderful chardonnay with strong vanilla in it. I finally had my first love moment with a wine.

Leaves and temperatures are doing their seasonal ritual….the gradual dips. Slowly so as to not shock us. Another beautiful season.

I’m going to miss my bare foot excursions as the time needs to be taken now to sock and shoe up while gently we move into this new season of healing and adapting.

Every Day is the Best Day

2010-07-20T11:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was decorated in hectic swag. My beloved's stepfather (who is the only real father he's had) had a stroke on the heels of preceding one from about a month and a half ago. While trying to be at the hospital with his mom and stepdad, he also had my precious Humanling, who is eleven. O Humanling, you who art overflowing with neroses! And terrified of the sight of fire alarms. Not lowercase Oh I don't like it much terrified, but if you were in a burning building with her and the fire alarm went off she'd anchor you to the floor for Fear of Passing it on the Way to Safety and You'd Both be Kebobs sort of terrification.

Her school records indicate her dire and innate fear of fire alarms. When she walks into any building she immediately locates each one. In the back of her mind, her senses are churning, waiting for any subtle sign that it might go off.

Naturally, as the doctors were trying to look at their patient yesterday, at probably the most important moment, Humanling went into one of her emergency stress states over the fact that the fire alarm light was blinking. She didn't want to be IN the room and couldn't be brought OUT of the room. She was basically an emergency all her own. I'm convinced they didn't haul her to the mental ward floor because they are out of tiny little Hello Kitty straightjackets.

My mate called me in a state of calm distress - can I PLEASE come and get her.

Aye, my handsome fella. I be boardin me broom right now!

On the way I picked up a few things from the gas station store - you know, all that stuff you really don't want to eat but in mile long pinch will suck it up and scarf it? Snickers, toasted crackers with peanut butter and planters nuts and a couple of bottles of water. It's a good tip to remember on the way to visit those who have to be (or want to be) in a hospital room and may not want to leave their sick one. My beloved and his mom were very grateful to have something to hold them over until they felt comfortable enough to leave the room for food. Humanling seemed rather docile when I got there. The wild clawing beast that was described to me on the phone had slithered away, leaving my cute, cleared faced child, simply and calmly playing her DSi in a chair.

After checking on everyone, a small but helpful rescue mission was complete - my honey and his mom from babysitting, my child from the helpful and life saving universal alert system.

When we got home it was thundering. You either do or you don't and when it comes to thunderstorms, I most certainly do love them! We put our things in the house and then walked outside with the egg basket to collect from our seven feathered Chickana's outside. On the way we stopped at the raspberry bush to nibble a berry or two. The drops started to come down and give us a small break from the heat and I felt extremely lucky. Lucky to be in the moment that I was in - upright, walking, conscious. Picking berries in the yard on the way to collect eggs from the hens. After the chickens did their little excited side to side run once they noticed us coming, we split off - Humanling to collect, me to the garden to the right, to tear up a little chard and throw it in for them as a thank you. I never cease to laugh out loud when visiting the Ladies. They could be anywhere in their space and once they see a human, they all come running like gangbusters in serious pursuit of what might be the Holy Treat.

Passing some blue and purple flower type bushes in between the lion statues in the yard, we saw two incredibly large Monarch butterflies. One of them was missing more than the bottom half of its right wing. It didn't seem aware that anything was different. It fluttered from flower to flower just as its fully winged counterpart a couple of feet away. I felt like a scene in a 1980s movie as Mister Mister's "Broken Wings" piped into my brain.

Humanling wanted to play wiffle ball. My energy was low. I wanted to be strong for my mate, to do what needs to be done and damn it - to remember how to use a stove. I've mentioned before - the man has been cooking for me for months now since he is not currently working. Now, without him home during the impending span of dinner prep, I had to quickly visit a hypnotherapist....to regress....back to the days when I prepared meals.....

Any other day I would have pushed off Humanling's request to go outside and play. Well, rather for me joining her. This day however, was not to be wasted. None of them are. But to rebuff in the face of a stark reminder would be criminal. One man lies in a hospital bed and here my child wants me to take my fully abled body outside and spend time.

And so I pretend I am Hisanori Takahashi from the Mets. Or rather insert any pitcher's name there. But make it a good one. I'm not trying to emulate a sucky thrower. It rained during our 'game' so we kicked off our shoes and enjoyed a rainbow, running barefoot, her newly found ability to switch hit and mine to throw overhand.