Wind and Wooing

Some rain, a lens of gray and Pooh Bear. It's a blustery day here on the mountain. Or what a small city girl like me would call a seven minute drive up a hill. It's gorgeous out today, with the wind holding high court, the sparrows all hard core, still at the feeder that sways lightly.

This is my first day home without Humanling, as she is in school, and my Grádhán, who is at work right now. (Grádhán being Gaelic for Beloved).

Yesterday my honey and I had the day off together, our first real stretch of time alone for awhile. And we spent the day in as many luxuries as we could possibly cram into a work day! Although it's only September, we are regularly tending the fireplace now, as we surprisingly have been since late August. My mom claims the weather is going to be really warm the next few days, which would most likely make mon aimee very happy since he will want the car top down.

I on the other hand, really do enjoy slightly cooler weather. Step dog gets his walk from me at high noon as long as my blood is not boiling up against my pores. Otherwise he gets the "Hurry up and do your business" look until his daddy comes home and puts the sweat in.

Last night I felt the most amazing feeling of perfection. Mon aimee sat on the (not so) far end of the loveseat with his back against the arm. I sat opposite him, both of us, legs stretched out, surrounding each other. The fireplace was going close by, the wine was wonderful as he read his paper, and me, a book by Jim Fargiano, who will be my guest on the show this week.

I am still in awe as to how life can change and take you where you never even thought about going. Sometimes you just can't be afraid to take that ticket when its offered to you.

I Would Do Anything For Love....But I Won't Do That....

In this glorious and giving holiday season, I realized that there is one list that I've never put together.  The list of things that I will probably not do for a loved one.  I know, you guys probably think about this all the time!  Consider me a late bloomer.

*Go on amusement park rides.  Nope.  I've been asked before and I gave in a couple of times only to scream my hatred for the other person during and after the ride. Also calling on the "I will Never do that again" speech.  

*Skydive.  I am simply not interested.  And scared that I'll pass out or have a heart attack before I can pull the chute cord.  Or crap myself and have it kill someone on the ground at high velocity speed.

*Eat brains or any other "delicacy".  I haven't eaten meat in 20 years so this kills any factory floor leftovers.

*Watch the Exorcist ever again.  I'm still not past it.  And hate that I wake up often around 3am and can clearly call up a scene that I've been trying to bury deep in the China of my soul since 1979.

*Accompany someone on a hunting trip.  (If confused, see vegetarian hobby above).

*Pilot a plane.  I have to face that I probably will be on another plane at some point in my life.  Amongst other reasons why not, my attention span sucks.   

*Willfully stand under one of those dripping pipes in the subway.  Shiver.  Although I saw it happen to my oldest daughter once.  I actually saw a psychological scar form before my eyes.  It was one of the funniest things that I ever saw.  

*Stick my tongue to a school flagpole.  Or anything in a school.  That's like kissing hundreds of germy children.

*Allow my face to stay directly in front of one of the animal's faces while I'm sleeping.  No other time will they sneeze than now.

*Ever again give up my holiday specials for one of the millions of sports out there....whether it be pro, college, hypothetical or claymation.

*"Enjoy" a heaping bowl of gorgonzola cheese

*Sit through Pink Floyd's "The Wall".

While I'm sure there are many other things I absolutely would not do, I think this will be a fine list to start.  

Shhh...Body Language Only

Dare I try to write while the Humanling is awake?  And in the same room????  Well, I'm gonna.  Because I'm strutting today.  I'm feeling like me and Obama...are all bursting we YES WE CAN.    There may also be a cup of French Roast coffee from Starbucks involved.  

I fell off my chastity wagon.  I never wanted to climb on to begin with....I only ended up there because it was far away from my Flipddiction.  I caved and after one two many fruitless fantasies about the man that I've been with for three years, wrote a short email asking for bodily justice.  We've been fighting for a month.  How dare I.  Yeah...how dare I try to go there, to the only place where we are completely ourselves without judgement, without arguing or miscommunication or anything other than giving the Richter scale nightmares.  

He agreed to a visit but said he promised nothing.  His depression has been ordering furniture, new carpets and an in-law room...apparently its getting worse and is really gearing up to be around for a bit despite his meds.  I brought bourbon.  We talked.  We were emotional.  He didn't fight me but insisted he wasn't feeling sexy in the least as I led him and his drink to the bedroom.  His shirt came off with my help during his schpeel about why he wasn't sexy or feeling it.  

Then well....I know how to make it work. And it was like hitting a switch.  BAM!  I feel gluttonous. That's the problem with me.  He gives me a yard, I want a park.  (We do not speak in inches here).  Communication is back open.  Phone calls are no longer barred.  And just thinking about him makes me want to invent rules so I can break them.

He has plenty of reason to be the way that he is as far as circumstance goes.  He did bring a lot of this on himself.  Facing things way too late doesn't help.  If we could have had him on meds two years ago maybe we'd be different now.  

Regardless, I've learned so much through my relationship with him.  So much about people, about myself, about commitment.  I'm baffled - what is commitment really about?  Is it about not cheating?  About taking abuse?  About seeing through mistakes to shine in the end together?  I don't know still.  All I know is that the sighing school girl was back last night, leaning on my open car door after a goodnight kiss, watching him walk away as he went to lock up the chickens.  

Do These 80s Make My Heart Look Hollow?

Everything about middle school makes me melangiddy.  Yes, that's melancholy and giddy together.  Like salt and sweet on the palate.  Shows that involve the heartbreak of that special age (Wonder Years, Freaks and Geeks), fresh new feelings and discoveries.  Songs from 1981-1983.  Movies from the era.  Anything with that confusing, die hard make or break oomph surging behind it.

I met Flip when we were both 12.  I was actually obsessed with his brother, who I did go out with but only because I had a relentless girlfriend who either wouldn't stop jackhammering him about asking me out or more than likely, she probably threatened to hurt him if he didn't ask me out (Rest in Peace, Tammy!).  We didn't do well as a couple and the boy that I chose was awkward with girls, quieter but incredibly mischievous.  In passing time skipping school and doing whatever it was to just be around him, I met his younger brother, who is Flip.  Long story short, his older brother had to be shoved outside with me in the freezing cold of winter for our first kiss  while our friends peeked out the window.  It was required to get back in the house.  What pressure?  Just a bunch of other 13 year olds checking us out for the big moment, a month and a half into the relationship.  We just didn't act like a couple.   We tormented each other with practical jokes, upping the ante wherever possible.  Eventually he broke it off with me.  And Flip and I started to hang out alone. Then REALLY alone.  In a barn, in elevators, in movie theaters, just to slobber all over each other every single minute that we could.  It was completely opposite of my "relationship" with his brother.  

My junior high memories used to be fun to think about.  As I watched Humanling tonight at the bowling alley, drooling over a classmate, it brought me straight back to the inevitable beauty and heartbreak of crushes and desire and the unknown.  My own junior high memories are now tainted in a sense with this relationship gone really bad with Flip.  We haven't just taken on the last three years.  Now we've altered 1982-1983 severely.  Looking back on those tender memories now just hurts as if it was a part of our current history.  Neither of us listen to Journey.  But if Journey comes on the radio, I think of That time.  Which means I am thinking of him.     When Steve Perry tells me he's coming to me with Open Arms, I believe that he's giving me a singing telegram from Flip.  When Joe Elliott is not F-F-F-Foolin', I know he means we've got some serious stuff going on.  

We would hold hands, walking through cemeteries, pretending to have accents from England, yet say we were from Florida.  He couldn't get enough of kissing me then, as we'd hit the Stop button in the elevator and shut off the lights.  There was a lot of heat for two 13 year olds!  

And now it's just a whole lot of withdrawal.  Unfortunately he seems to want all my compassion without looking outside of himself to see if anyone else was hurt from the shrapnel.  He believes that since I am the one who cut it off, I must be throwing a World Without Flip party every night.  I know that really, I'm better off.  But Pollyanna has a hard time closing the coffin lid.  If we can't get work this out, the early 80's have officially been destroyed for me.  Another submission to the one in charge of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.   

A Reminder From Special

It's been a full week and a day since I last told Flip that we were over.  Of course, I wasn't sure if I meant it....I meant it in the way that  I know this relationship is unhealthy for me.  I didn't know for sure if I could hold to it.  It's been two weeks since I've even seen him in person as far as spending time together goes.  I did see him briefly to pick up my mail, and really all I saw was a white t-shirt and a hand coming out of the door as I heard him tell the dog to be careful or I might call the cops on the dog.  Okaaaay.  

We cleaned out our storage space a month ago.  My stuff has been sitting here just waiting for me to evaluate what's what.  It's been an interesting sort through.

I cleaned out a purse today.  Somehow I don't only have old purses, but Time Capsules with handles.  They usually have whatever I deemed not important enough to move into the new purse at the time.  While I usually don't find much to save, I will save pens that don't have old gum stuck on them and change.  I feel that if you throw out money it tells the universe that you really don't care if you have money or not.  I even reached into the garbage to pull out a nickel that jumped.  I love reading old receipts, scraps of paper with phone numbers on them, to do notes.  Notes of quotes that resonated with me and websites written down to check out.  

When braving the very inside corners of this particular purse and sticking my fingers in to grasp the coins that were left, I saw stuff stuck to them.  I wondered to myself how I had all this different colored gum.  (I used to chew massive amounts of gum!)  It wasn't gum though....it was a great memory.  There were circles of confetti mixed in with the coins.  When I was dating El, I'd meet him at the train station with my Humanling.  One day we decided to get confetti and when it was time to hug him hello, throw it up in the air as a celebration.  We did this once or twice, leaving happy colors all over the platform.  

Today is a good day to remember that there was a person on this planet that made me happy and inspired enough to celebrate the small stuff, other than my mom and my kids.  The small stuff I've realized, is pretty much everything.

Put Your Mouth Here and I'll Consider That an Apology

I'm not the one who put this music channel on today.  I usually put on big bands and swing, electronica or the hits.  Teen of mine puts on light classical, kid's crap, tropicales and today for the first time, Easy Listening.  I want to know when easy listening became theme music for suicidal folks who hate loud tunes.  Ugh.  I know it was elevator music at one time but don't recall wanting the elevator to drop 30 floors to end it all.

I just saw a rejected fruit fly.  Poor dude.  He was hanging around my bourbon glass.  The NY Times did an article last year on the winged lads who had to go home alone to their corn silk dolls soothing their troubles with alcohol.  Bummer. That means I have a not desirable specimen in my drink.  

My co-host and her man slept over last night!  I was a gentleman and let them have the air mattress.  I slept in the recliner chair.  They were wonderful Same Room Sleeping buddies!  No weird noises, if he made any inclination to snore, it was more like a wind chime.  They were adorable.  Only I got up in the middle of the night (as I do, many many many times to detect what "that noise" was) and walked into the bathroom to check on the Teen.  Only it was my buddy...doing the right thing and washing her hands at Something a.m.

When I did finally get up, they were spooning.  It was adorable.  And left me with that empty within, empty without type of goodness.  So after they left, I worked for a bit, doing what needed to be done and then took the rest of the day off.  Flip and I were on civil terms today, sending emails back and forth, careful to say nothing bulletworthy.  Eventually he said something silly like "too bad the last week was what it was because today is a perfect day for a nooner".  

He can't dangle that in front of me because suddenly I am that cartoon character that turns into either the panting, begging pup up on hind legs, or the giant Lollipop.  

I responded letting him know that if he's offering, I most certainly can try not to be desperate for his affection and wait at least 10 minutes before leaving the house.  I didn't say that though.  But I did give a green light.  He retracted.  "It'd be nice though".  He wants the whole deal...the commitment, the getting along, all the stuff the original model was supposed to be.  I anted up that I emailed him first this morning AND that I didn't bring up Whoopie, I brought up going out to lunch.  

Eventually I just called him and said "I'm coming over.  And I'm hanging up now."  

Good stuff, good stuff.  Only he sort of took a bow and sober arrow to my afterglow.  I am glad that he has found something (albeit by force) that is giving him more food for thought in life.  More peace (I think.  I've seen plenty o'psycho as shit moments during this inception of AA, so I can't vouch for this 100% yet).  And I want to know how he's doing and what he's up to, what he thinks.  But lately it's all AA stuff.  Like 20 minutes worth of stories and anecdotes and discussion and maybe a camping trip with the "group".  This is his thing and I am trying to adjust from him thinking they were a bunch of Koreshians (not Kardashians FYI) to being in 4 + meetings per week and enjoying them.  By the way, if you Google David Koresh, they also think you may like to try out the Jim Jones, Timothy McVeigh and Charles Manson variety crazies as well.

So we're on the nice nice train again.  I'm pretty terrified of it.  Anything nice that I say will be used against me later if I am unhappy with something.  But I admit, when things suck, I can be a runner.  I just want to GTFO of wherever the smell of hell is seeping in. 

But today I found in my Cherokee Feast of Days V2 book for June 11th's entry..."Gentleness is good to recall when someone close to us does something wrong.  Why wound when we can heal?  Love does not tell us we are stupid but that we made a mistake and we're standing together until it passes.  Security comes from knowing love like this. And if the bonding is weak the first time - try it again."

Mmm Mmmm Mmmmh!!!  So perhaps the runner thing....is that terrible to protect oneself?  I think in times of abusive behavior it's important to uncover those shoes of endurance to peel the eff outta there.  But finding the fine lines....that's tricky.

May 2nd. I'd Never Be the Same

A quick flip to the jazz channel on the television schools me in the Sunny Side of the Street.  Today is the day is the day is the day.  It is always the day.  

I read something in Use Your Brain to Change Your Age (by Daniel Amen) today. Dr. Joe Dispenza's was mentioned.  As I visually trolled through the bullet points I stopped at Firm Intention.  And you know how you know something but then you read it again and you are being reminded in a very real way?  He says "But when you really truly make up your mind and are in a state of firm intention - that is, you absolutely know  that you are going to follow through on a new way of thinking or acting, you can almost feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up.  You are saying to yourself, with deep conviction, ' I don't care what anyone else says or does.  I don't care what happens or what challenges I face.  I don't care how hard it is.  I am going to do this.  I am going to change.' When you are at this point of serious, firm attention, your body sits up and pays attention.  It knows the brain means business  And the body will now follow the direction of a firmly convinced prefrontal cortex."

I know this place.  I've been there a few times before and it hasn't steered me wrong.  I've steered me wrong or allowed others to put things into my head.  But I know when I get that aligned heart and mind feeling, that I will follow through and get where it is I was planning to be.  I know that this needs to be done again.  I've unlearned this over the last couple of years, but have seen glimpses that it does exist.  

Time to live life fully....

backing into a room, kissing fully with hunger

the scent of soap that intrigues

artwork of hot air balloons and 

dreams on paper

I didn't forget it.  It's one of the best places to be. It makes me glow.  I plan to immerse in it soon.  With love, lots and lots of gentle love.  Gentle on me, gentle on life, gentle on he who should have it.  

We are capable for sure.  We can do this.  I don't care what anyone else says or thinks about it  - let me look like a crazy person.  It's okay, it's a small price to pay, so small.

Two lovers in the rain have no need of an umbrella.  ~Japanese Proverb

Tsunami from Across the Room

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.

In the Present

Listening to old/newly released Dylan….

….a beautiful fall day outside…

….working from home….

….a wonderful day with my mate….

…coffee…

…thoughtful silence…

*Happy*

Dusting Off

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.

The Get Away Moments are Here

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".

Another beautiful day, working from home. The bird feeder is rather low and I suspect that their faith in us will only go so far, until we refill it. Either that or else I'm going to open the door after hearing a faint knock and will find a flapping friend with a vendetta in my face stressing a strong hint.

As I work I enjoy checking out NPR or the New York Times podcasts. I find this time to be an excellent avenue to learn. I also get to choose what I'm going to hear instead of having the constrant scroll of doom being stuffed down my throat. Do I want to remain oblivious to the world's not so stellar moments of human fallabilities? Not so much. For me its similar to animal slaughter. I know it exists, I won't try and paint rainbows and robotic smiley faces over it but I don't need to navigate my way into the middle of it and make it my mind's soundtrack. We do need much positive energy to make this planet an even better place and while it is imperative to drop any sense aloofness to the plight of others, we aren't going to change things from a low level.

NPR also has a fabulous page for new music. This morning I have been enthralled with a new jazz find. It's jazz, yeeeeahhhh......BUT it sounds like a sensual sashay into an exotic moment. It is a strong Being on the opposite side of the room with a penetrating gaze that locks into you and the rest of the room disappears as it moves closer, all intentions to move into and inebriate you. Head here and play El Gaucho Rojo.

Step dog, aka Moaning Myrtle (its a male but anyone should be honored to have a Harry Potter reference bestowed upon them) is subtle this morning. Happy to laze on the loveseat, time punctuated by a drop by from our common love, his daddy, mi amore. At times he tries to fit himself in my tiny lap and like an odd couple with much fondness for each other, we just can't make it right and have to give in to the inflexibility of our forms. He hops back down, we are lightly sorry, but not offended. It just isn't going to happen today.

Work is good today, as it is most days, with the threat of my common sense and rational getting love blind from moment to moment. My mistakes are plain silly when they happen and are probably due to my obsessive Scorpio nature to dive deep into my heart and allow the exchange that exists between mi amore and I to swirl around and engulf me completely. It's the kind that makes you miss your turn while driving, or to not hear someone call your name. The kind that causes you to apologize to your workmates and whine that falling in love is difficult to balance with mundane chores. We should all be so happy to daydream about our actual reality and hope for an understanding smile when we misplace our sense of detail due to such escapades.

Cheers for a wonderful weekend to all!

To Notice more Trickles Before They Grow into Streams

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Too Much Information?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

((((Hug)))) {Pass it on...}

Today I work from home. I love not getting work face and hair together and not having to cover up the usual Neighborhood lack of Get Up that is usually reserved for weekends. Working for Big Pharma means not wearing army pants and a black Trick or Treat t-shirt to work. It also means missing Regis and Kelly, which in my opinion, not watching it sucks as much as Turdblossom's (special thanks to FireBoy for the name) grandmother's old vacuum cleaner, before dealing with the cat litter. Except for today because it is the seventh anniversary of 9/11.

Otherwise, mainstream daytime tv is mostly poison. The commercials make me want to petition God's powers for ten minutes so that can I develop billions of Stretcharmstrong legs and kick off everyone's brainwashing caps. Especially on a day like today. Hearing one more commercial about women who can't deal with laugh lines when your body is disposable eventually anyway, seems like it comes from a less evolved planet. But yet, they agreed to keep political campaigns off the air. Something in which the end result will hopefully bring about positive and permanent evolving change that is beneficial change. But leave the Botox commercial on so that between rememberences of 9/11, we can go back to problems that never seem to evolve spiritually. Yeah, I don't want to look haggard either. I'm getting ready in a couple of months to trade my 38 model in for a 39, and who knows how I'll feel in 10 years. But that's what I strive for - inner beauty - evolved spirituality, so that injecting youth serum into my skin isn't what's crossing my mind at that point.

I watch these kids talking up on the podium, giving a beautiful and simple speech that echoes shades of adult reality. They say that they miss their father. In identifying with others, the first thing I do is parallel it to myself and think of Humanling's dad. Who is alive. And lives down the road. And leaves me to answer with shades of adult reality to Humanling why he doesn't call or come by. Why doesn't he take care of her. These kids sounded as though they truly miss a father who can't be around. Humanling misses a father who chooses to live within basically the same exact crossing of meridians on the map of the world, but chooses not to be proactive.

It seems unfair to watch all these young enough children, crying in their innocence. Perhaps many of them will take that early reality gash and work it into something sustainable for the world - be it politics, scooting most of the world's countries onto the same page or the food and environment sector. We usually won't change the status quo without the burn.

What I remember most about it here in Connecticut on 9/11, besides the minute by minute events themselves, is the methodical way in which we all left our jobs to go. Go wherever we had to go. Silence. I don't recall there being sound, traffic lights, road rage, speeding, talking, pedestrians. I remember our large campus emptying out silently, cars along the road in a muted traffic jam without the stopping. Just the slow moving toward whatever we would find when we got there. The sound of sadness I suppose, maybe the sound of a hole in the collective soul of all that is.

I guess when you are at the sound of complete silence it can only get louder. Where we are now sounds like chaos with two different high heels on. But there are paths starting to gain tread that will hopefully bring around the balance. We have to just keep on passing the love out.

Whether or not you believe in him, it is said that the way to be a fabulous human is to act like Christ, every minute of everyday. Whether or not you believe in him, is that such a bad way to be?

I'm going to make another pledge to myself and see what the sifting eventually leaves in my hand. I'm going to look at the divorce next week with love. (well YEAH I will LOVE to be divorced but I mean this differently). I want to walk into that courtroom and check Turdblossom and the being that he clutches close to him for security (and for the reason of probably to try and miff me because I hadn't yet seen him rise above anything unless it is a 100% investment in something that he needs) and I want to be able to smile at them. Hi. I'm glad to be here. I'm glad you're here. And now, I'm glad we can part and good luck to you both. And the kid that is being put into a situation with someone who didn't do so well with his Starter Marriage (With Kid version). Good luck to you guys because if i keep hating, I'm going to need a bigger ribcage to fit thicker and more constrictive bars over my heart. And as the heart is the single organ with the most electrical activity (not the brain), I think its important that it has all the breathing room that it needs. So maybe I am doing this for myself. I am. But I'm doing it for all of you too. For my Humanling, for my mom, for anyone who has to pass through my energy in any sense and for anyone who will pass it forward. I don't want to be like the factory farm slaughtered animals that die with adrenaline raging into their bloodstream (for all to eat by the way, something to think about - you are what you eat). I don't want the adrenaline that exposes me whenever I think about the perceived wrongs that this Turd Van Blossom has put upon me. I want to be able to look at him and the situation with nothing but a pure, clean of tension and pure with positive intention, vision.

Energy is contagious. Hand someone a good vibe - boost them up - they most likely will hand it off to someone else and before you know it, you have another bad hair product commercial - "And they told two friends, and so on...and so on...and so on...." (Sorry if you missed the 70s - you missed some Einstein moments in televised commercial space).

One of the side effects of all these products that they are continually forcing into your consciousness is that YOUR RISK OF BEING HUMAN NEVER GOES AWAY. So with that - with an honest and open heart, free of competition, free of jealousy, free of hate or the metal bars that tighten over your chest, bring someone up. And they'll tell two friends. And they'll tell two friends. And so on. And so on.

Scurred!!!!

:doot: must have some idea of how lucky he really is. How often does a guy get to put on the cape and tights for constant rescue missions?

He goes for five years not hearing from me and in less time than it takes to conduct an online search, I am bombarding him with my paranoid questions. He had my issues at "Hello".

On Monday I believed that I had a moldy infection in my right lung. He - that's right HE cleaned out my car on Sunday. Humanling had clothing in a bag and on top of it, managed to leave behind all half consumed bottles of water upside down in the back seat. On top of it, she's nine. So she isn't going to airtight the cap...just close it *enough*. So the equation of plastic bag + clothes + leaking water bottles = moldy upholstery. I removed the bag and some of the water bottles, but he removed, cleaned and organized everything else in the 90 degree heat and without gloves!!!

The next day I was convinced that the *blip* I felt in my lung was a sure sign of mold inhalation. I tripped over myself along the well worn cyber path and ran this by him. He felt fine. Ok, well maybe he is just stronger than me. Maybe my body simply saw a mold spore and succumbed. Or not. Because I feel fine now. On Monday it wasn't funny though.

He dealt with this as if he was born to.

Or when we open a bottle of something and the seal doesn't 'pop' at 89 decibels. If its a lazy pop, it bothers me. I need a nice, crisp SNAP! when it opens.

He assures me, this is fine.

As when I call him because I've read that CT scans, MRIs and X-rays cause cancer and tell him that I might have had a ct scan once...and many dental x-rays and now I can't eat and won't sleep for a long time because I'm paranoid that this is true in .4 cases and may be as high as 1.5 cases.

Or does *this* taste weird?

Or the drop of *something* that landed on me while we walk. Or the possibility of it.

In fact, the more he laughs at my many opportunities of demise, the more satisfied I am that things are really okay. The day he worries along side of me, I will probably drop dead of a heart attack.

Right now I am mildly uncomfortable because I ate something with BBQ sauce and curry and there is a bitter residual of taste in my mouth. So I start wondering why that is. He can tell me exactly why, pull me in off the ledge and make me feel like I've visited the Guru at the top of Mt. It's All Better Now and It Never Was Bad To Begin With.

I have to pop quiz him here and there to ask if he is going to be able to put up with a lifetime of this. His perfect answers don't miss a beat.

Dormant love sucks. I am beyond alive again.

The World's First Pristine Happy Bubble

I'm not saying that my life is better than everyone else's. Or that my coupling is more pure, more deserved more true. *But!* My life is better than it ever was. My love has never ever ever been this core intended. Nor has this venus fly trap ever opened its jaws wide enough to accept the amazing Everything that :Doot: is giving me.



And he shall be named :Doot: (Surprise honey!)



He'll know why. And you should too. !Sharing Time! It's one of those graphic novels that I borrowed from him to read. He handed me three. And I read them in this order: Interesting enough, Gratuitiously Depressing (Chunky Rice) and the third - the adorable Yotsuba&!. Honestly, I can't remember the name of the first one at the moment. One of the characters in the GP pulp had a soul that was simply gasolined, burned, dipped into a boiling vat of porta-potty stew and then thrown into a Haitian dumpster. And yet this character still had this tiny tiny spark of needing, wanting to take care of something and be loved in return. Or that's how I saw it. What do I know. I read the book once. Maybe I'm just being a girl.



I digress. There was a little bird through out the book and it kept emitting the word 'doot'. *Tweet* really doesn't raise the bar as far as bird emittances go. *Doot* however, really tugs at my knotted heartstrings. Therefore, I will forego the (as one of my friends terms her husband) Captain Huggy Face (she'll know who she is if she reads this....or rather she should even though that's the third most popular pet name) and Pookie's and crown him :Doot: here.



I know that this is the person that I'm going to put permanently into my 'We' face. (HA! Not Wii - I can't imagine the starvation of intimacy that would bring). This is the person who brings out the best in me, and I can hope to do the same for him. He has been my biggest muse over the years in different ways. He makes me want to .... you name it. All of it. Okay, revise. You name good things only. He doesn't make me want to randomly stab Cheerios boxes at the gas station. Or kick water fountains.



I'd tell you all how awesome he is in detail but I don't need the ladies dropping death threats on me. Don't hate Ladies. Gots to keep the Humanling in safe quarters. You understand.



It's been a long five years without him. It's ok though. Every step of those five years brought us full circle to a place where we *can* be together fully. Or maybe that's what humans say to make ourselves think we've done the right thing all along. Whatever the case, walking east, walking west of the circle, we're still here, right at the meeting point where we can rest on each other the rest of the way. Or drag each other. Either way, we're together. Bless me Jack Johnson! - "Without you I was broken, But I'd rather be broke down with you by my side".



:doot:

Did I Win or Get the Door Prize?

Where did that weekend, containing every gamut of emotion leave us?

It left this huge question mark - what is allowed to happen next? Would I get the email saying, "Well, it was nice, but I've parachuted back down to level ground and uh, no thanks."?

We both sent the basic "weekend after" email....the expression that it was great, had fun, and in complicated terms, Wow.

But then I received the virtual eye squinting that I thought I might have gotten earlier. A long enough email, telling me that well, how can he know the Bad wouldn't happen again. That basically, there was some anger, but there didn't seem to be enough. More like he intended to maybe be angry but the In Person may have diffused some of it.

After I read that email I felt pretty uncertain about what would happen - until I saw above it, another email. It simply stated, "In case I didn't make myself clear - I want to see you again."

It's been a couple of weeks now. And he's seen me again. He's wooed and completely owned me again.

We both feel that this is IT with airhorns, beer pong and devil dog eating contests.

I can't say that if anyone has the same story, it'll work out this way, but I can say that without being a gang member with coersion colors, you don't know if you don't meet fate halfway.

I know I was leading up to writing that apology letter to him. However, with utilizing my new hobby, listening to what's really deep down instead of making things happen when the time didn't feel right, things seem to have gone in a way that wouldn't otherwise be possible.

All of this went down about three weeks ago and 3.a dates ago. In our current measurement, one date = about 2 days, 2 nearly all nighters and one Gotta Get to Work train ride on Monday. I had an extra surprise bonus visit last night which qualifies as "a" since I kissed him at the train station yesterday morning. SEE! He walked through the dark, quiet streets of my town where our unamused amateur druggies lurk and hide from our unamused and bored cops just to knock on my door near 10pm or so. It's not the past where he shows up to greet me and my fiance. It's finally our time for real, where he shows up and I can jump straight into his arms and cover him with kisses.

If I'm not already closing anyone's lids during attempts to read these, I probably will start. I'm boring now. The piece fits. It's all about the L word now, People. Not HBO's version of it either.

My rants may just have to settle for inserting my planetary opinions into the conversations of strangers now.

And a public thanks to those who really did back me up, no matter how much of a lost cause it seemed. And Alan (http://thisredeem2.blogspot.com/) thanks for your simple comment that replanted some semblence of faith in me.

The Rest of That Day

Well I left off from swooning about the five year reunion. Remember this - that I had treated this person with such disrespect so long ago. And here we were, years later, after I'd written that apology letter to him.

We started our day at the Cloister Cafe (not at the actual Cloisters in upper NYC, but somewhat downtown instead - like it makes sense but oh well. I guess if we can knight and unknight planets, we can say up is down.) Sitting outside in the garden over tentative poached eggs with spinach, I sipped my coffee with chocolate liquor and he had an iced expresso. He ordered some sort of chicken dish that he had wrapped to go that was completely untouched. From the get go, every meal we ordered, we shared. Which meant that he would be eating veg for the day. We did our opening talks at the restaurant, while still taking in the fact that the past had aged and was sitting between us.

We must have sat in three different parks this day. Each park held important components to our discussions. I should have started to feel the fear of being at the podium, each time we found a grassy spot and kicked our shoes off. Maybe its the fact that there is no food for distraction. Maybe its the ease of which you can pick at the grass while being uncomfortable with conversation content. Every park we sat in was like a Zelda game, with new keys being found to open new doors. And me wondering, with each answer to his questions, how he was processing my verbal equations.

At some point we ended up downtown at a dumpling place - The Dumpling Man I think its called. Delish!!! We shared vegetable dumplings that were dipped (or with the way I dip - slathered) in coconut cucumber sauce. FYI - they have the smallest bathroom in existence. Men, your butts will be on the outside of the door while you take care of business. Confirmed by the man that brought me there.

No moves were made as far as trying to be any sort of romantic. Sure, when we would cross a street and a car would come too close, we'd both do the Right Thing Reaction and throw our arm across the other person, sometimes simultaneously but without acknowledging it. Sometimes he would take my arm to help direct which way we were going. And a couple of times he held my hand after we talked about something painful.

Once we had gotten to dinner, we were fairly comfortable and having such a fun time, despite the punctuation of seriousness that had dotted through the day. I had a beautiful hazelnut cappuccino and he had coffee with this dinner. We sat indoors but with a doorway right at our table to the outside. Here is where we decided that since I didn't have a curfew, the idea of me staying the night would be tossed around. (It was good to pack that toothbrush).

We headed over to the piers and walked barefoot in the grass, eventually lying down in it and just talking, observing (mostly a lesbian couple in a very nondiscreet argument) and watching the lightning. Until the sprinklers came on at 10pm and people screamed (one in particular with a very curt "Shit!") while we all ran off the grass.

He asked what I would like to do next.

The one simple way I could have answered would have been fine, had it been a week later. However, without my powers of time travel, I had to answer with something meaningful, as it was already past 10pm, yet, open. So I suggested we take a little hot toddy outside near his place and relax. Yeah, "Relax", meaning "come check me out in the magic of the dark now that we've been exposed to each other all day long". Can you check out my smoldering impatience and passion in this request? Awwww yeah. Thinking it a great idea, he expanded to add the park near his house as the backdrop. Perfect.

We sat in front of what I'm guessing is a river-ish body. It was still but I don't know of any lakes up in Inwood. We drank Magic Hat #9 and talked and talked while sitting on the ground, still not touching. And saw a little animal run by right about 2 and a half feet in front of us. I heard him say, "Oh its a rat." And then my eyesight caught up to my mind and indeed I matched the word with image and its long tail. That's right. I'm from Connecticut. There is a tailed animal in my home, but its had a rabies shot.

It was getting close to 3am and we'd shifted to the bench. One word led to one hug leading to the 5 year undertow that had been gathering throughout the day.

This is no soap opera so I'll spare readers the gratuitous primality of things.

We woke up at 9am, after 3 hours of sleep. Everything had changed.

How Did It Go?

Yesterday was the day when all those miracles I'd asked for, actually were dumped, one after another, all over me.

I had to change my shirt last minute before leaving for my train. Anything that you have to adjust so that your undergarments aren't competing for attention is just not right. I thought my hair and I had agreed earlier to work with each other for the occasion, but it was not to be. I fiddled with it over and over again whenever the train went through a tunnel so that I could see my reflection. And of course, had the Great Les Brown CD flipped over in the case so that I could use it as a mirror.

Docking in GCT, I had no idea how to hold my stride, after all, he could be watching, he could be around THIS corner, or THIS corner. My train was early so I did one last hair check in the bathroom (it was beyond repair) and then headed toward the infamous clock in the center.

I don't know if I just happened to turn around or if he made a sound. Upon turning around, he was right there, already looking straight at me. When I saw him at first I literally did an embarassing soap opera gasp....our eyes locked, time stood still and we just stared at each other without a word for just those few seconds...maybe 5, maybe seven. I don't know...it was one of those things where time stopped. I felt like something clicked when our eyes met - on a soul level. Something was so familar...like an energy recognition, like being on another planet for 5 years and finally running into your own species.

We finally quit sizing each other up and hugged.

Then started what would be my best weekend in five years. But why drag this into a long post? That's what I'll start with. Stay tuned....