How Dry *Hic* I Am....*hic*

Unrelated to anything that I'm about to write, what never fails to make my brain carve out a happy path is Chris Christie on SNL, saying "I'm gonna die in this fleece!"  Glad that's out of the way.

I went out on another bourbon spree with a friend last night because bourbon is the new coffee. Although "Spree" might be a strong word.  Then again I guess it depends on how high you fill the glass.  My company decided to test my strength of Right Speech by ordering multiple Bud Light beers.  Poor thing does not drink the bourbon (obvious wuss) and at one point offered to get me a refill.  What fun to say, "Two cubes please. Three if they must."  and see the perplexity of expression as if to say, "are you joking or do I really order it that way?" 

Oh ho Makers!  You will not catch me wobbling on the Too Many bullseye this time!  Having a slice of pizza while discussing where you can go dancing when over 40 and chugging a cup of 9pm coffee like it was Gatorade was much better on the second drive by than it was the other night.  I done learned how to not wake up at 2am feeling the effects of becoming the Changling of Sobriety.  

And as folks used to use the hard stuff to cure colds and ailments, it has also been a great giver of knowledge.  The bourbon exposed to me who would be the Santa at our Christmas party next week.  Because otherwise I would not have recognized my skinny ex boyfriend wearing the fake white beard.  I also realized that I am a generous and happy drinker.  I will offer to get you the Mona Lisa for your birthday.  Not only that, but I'll tell you that she'll take you out to dinner first before seeking her position on a wall not facing the harsh afternoon sun.  

There should be more people like me on the sauce in this world.  

So we tried Bush's baked beans, bourbon and brown sugar flavor.  Yes, really.  I'd eat it again, however that must be because I don't mind the taste of bourbon with extract of new band-aid sprinkled in it.  That's what it really tasted like to me.  Perhaps just filling a glass with beans and throwing two cubes in it might suffice on nights where AA starts to resonate.  

And now, my attention must divert back to the Hallmark channel.  Some cozy, life's-not-really-like-that movie is on and I certainly don't want to miss it.  After all, these Christmas movies just started at the end of October.

Note: I googled to see if I could find a photo of beans in a glass after I wrote this.  All I can say is "Huh.  Must be meant to be!"

Xmas Mash Up: The Grinch Vs Xmas Story...He had Yellow Eyes...so help me....

It is a beautiful rainy night.  The Grinch (Carrey flavored) is on.  I've done more loads of dishes for only two people today than should be possible.  I opened a beer about 20 minutes ago and finally took my first sip now.  That was a lot of bourbon last night.  And I learned quite a bit.   Like when you see someone that wants to bear hug you and pick you up, don't allow them to try and neatly "sit" you back on a stool.  Doesn't work, things fall over and people bite their tongues when they get startled from the noise.  

Also, don't put off your chores before you go out for a bourbon date because no matter how early you left the house, they ain't getting done when you get back.  One bourbon gives birth to three or four.  

By this time, my friend had said a lot of things they have no receipt for, therefore cannot take it back.  They were complimentary, wonderful things to hear.  Unfortunately I really am not in that space with this particular person so when I woke up this morning I knew that I had to start thinking of how I will let it be known that while all is appreciated, this is not how I want to go forward.  Being friends is cool.  The vibe is just not there for me.  

There was an older couple sitting at a table having dinner and drinks.  The man looked to be in his late 60s, maybe early 70s.  The woman about the same.  She had long gray hair, nicely tended to.  She is just another one of those women who show me that my aversion to ever going with the Time To Cut It age just doesn't exist.  My mother went to the Older Mom haircut and frost in her early 30's.  Then again, she was more prone to grays.  I inherited my father's color and am just fine with so far not having to deal with gray hair.  Someday it may happen though.  

The older man never let go of his phone.  It stayed in his left hand the entire time - he stared into the screen as he ate with his right hand.  She did not do anything to distract herself from the moment.  Eventually I went over to tell her how beautiful her hair was.  She seemed delighted with the compliment, although I'm sure she must get them all the time.  Still, it's good to never assume and just go with it if it is kind.  I didn't go with the other speech I had in mind for her hubby regarding the superglue and phone accident.

Time for me to take care of some more Wishlist items before the night is done.  Reading the cover story about Brad Pitt on this week's People isn't one of them but it might have to happen anyway.  

Swiffer Standard Time

Holy I Feel Dirty.  And this is a far cry from those "Mom, I don't feel fresh" commercials of Things That Girls DON'T Ask Their Moms About.  

More like foggy, yes, I am enjoying a fog in the head today.  I tell myself "enjoying" so that the rest of me goes right along with the pack mentality of the nematoads on Spongebob.  "Enjoying.  Enjoying. Enjoying!" 

I am impressed that I did indeed get a few things done on the Weekend Wishlist, despite my lack of motivation to move out of Bourbon Fields yesterday.  We can check off "drink with a friend."  That lasted for hours.  Like seven of them.  By the time I got home all I had energy for was to walk the child down to get a hot chocolate from a local restaurant and then we noshed in silence, having a slice of pizza from another downtown venue.  And then I put Elf on and snooozzzee........

So I am wringing out today.  

I've done two loads of dishes already this morning and yet the sink is full of them again.  This phenomenon must be related to those birthday candles that you blow out and they stay lit.  Google has already this morning soothed my mind.  The water is coming out cloudy, then clearing up. Pretty normal, right?  It doesn't usually happen here.  And especially with cold water.  I checked in with my Browser Boyfriend Google and he said that it is most likely an abundance of Calcium in the water.  Which is precisely why months ago, I switched my male guinea pigs to bottled water.  Too much calcium in their bodies will cause stones.  Betcha didn't know that.  Makes you want a goldfish now, huh?

Then I was told that I was googled yesterday.  So I decided to try it myself.  EW!!!!  The MySpace account that I used to use is still there!!!!  Nothing makes me feel so outdated and exposed for some reason as seeing this MySpace account.  I know, most of us have done it....I shouldn't be so hard on myself.  I also found a bunch of comments made under my name on various YouTube videos, compliments of my 13 year old daughter.  

On a high note, I picked up short nails yesterday to hang the stockings.  So we're getting somewhere.  As for now, I think I'll attempt to blow out those trick candles in the sink and have a first date with that new Swiffer that I have.  I'm dying to see if it adds hours to my day like the commercials say.  Like Swiffer Savings Time.  And it being a brisk 45 degrees today, the track might be calling me to some sort of penance for my long affair with bourbon yesterday.  

Call me Maybe

I have been absolutely Lah-may at writing lately.  It sure isn't for lack of wanting to.  At some point when I am independently wealthy, I will be blogging away, for I will have all the time in the world for it.  There are times I'd love to be writing but then the cat walks by me and has crap smeared on her fur somewhere and I have to get up and try to clean off a greased pig.  Or, you know, something like that happens.  I still wonder about the presence of Flip and how that translates to me not doing all that I was doing before.  I certainly can't blame another person for what I am or aren't getting done.  So it's not you, it's me.

Right now Humanling is on the phone with her father.  That means in a moment, the phone may be travelling along the well worn hallway to me.  Writus interruptus.  

But in the meantime, I grapple with balance and life. All in good and enthusiastic ways of course.  When the 'relationship' is in my life I allow it to move into those creative, fertile places in my mind.  And with the same crops being sown over and over again, the land is becoming barren, until I finally choose to rotate those crops yet again.

Recently, Marc Allen was on my show.  Marc is one of the founders of New World Library which is a kick ass publishing company.  He's written a number of excellent books as well.  He puts things in such a simple and accessible way that you feel there is absolutely no way you can fail at achieving anything you want.  I just looked at my bank account and am currently achieving making those numbers look like they did on payday.  Granted, things happen, holidays happen. Running out to the store to buy pecans for $7.39 just to re-create the stuffing that you made the night before because you left it at your mom's house and really really really wanted the leftovers is probably not necessary.  But it's a true story.  

As is the two line story about a fella on Facebook sending me a link to Bourbon Enthusiast.com last night. Such compassion toward the obvious bourbon drinker.  Either way, he's a fellow Scorpio so I'll trust his judgment.  However, it does tell me that I post about bourbon Way Too Much.  

The child is going with her dad tonight and sleeping over. Flip is in PA visiting family but has asked me last minute to walk his pup and is hoping that I shall be waiting for him in his drafty and dog scented abode when he gets home.  Ah, I do not know.  I will probably end up there but  have comfortably entered the land of saying "Maybe".  I enjoy limited time together and have come to really enjoy entering my sanctuary here.  Weekends are precious and I used to sit outside in the mornings and blog but the weather is sort of taking over and some weekends the To Do Lists are too tall to sit comfortably without Duty hanging over me.  No one wants duty hanging over them.  

What I'd LOVE to do is kill some bourbon and go see the final bite of Twilight.  Money is scolding me otherwise.  So who knows.  There is much to read in this house. 

I will probably be taking the laptop along with me for the ride to Cavey's house for when I drop off the Ling that is my human.  Pop into a Starbucks, enjoy something hot and write for a bit.  Read some Marc Allen.  Or right now, before I allow duty's claws to keeping tugging at the elbow of my sweater, put up a separate Weekend Wish List post.  How I love those.  

Cuz Tonight We're Gonna Party Like It's 19-Blah Di Blah

As I write tonight, I am surrounded by the good folks from Time Life who are playing an infomercial on the Carol Burnett show and a tiny little animal who is kneading things.  I don't even think she will lie down.  She kneads and then when that piece of blanket/leg/floor is ripe enough, she moves on to another spot.  

This weekend I shook it up a bit.  I went out and got myself a hangover.  Well, why not.  The kid is 13 now and knows how to let me sleep for a bit while doing a floor puzzle.  A friend of mine was having a housewarming party.  And for people our age, it means what it meant 20 years ago.  Drank!  Lots of drank!  And for those who so wish, Other.  

Many of the people going were friends of my first husband as well so I threw it out there...you wanna go?  I also threw out there that should he find a person flirt worthy while there, PLEASE DO, help yourself.  I wanted to be sure that this wasn't going to be taken in any way as a date.  He's been dry for about seven months.  He just *can't*.  It would send him into the spiral that has been his life for about 25 years now.  He assured me that he'd be fine....would pick up some of that fabby NA brew that people drink sometimes.

He did offer to pick up whatever I wanted though.  And I can't stress enough that I'm a broke ass right now.  So thanks for the Erdinger and the small bottle of Makers that I would stash in my purse for later.  

Is that weird to bring an ex to a party?  Well, I thought it was a neat idea.  We share a daughter so we have to talk anyway.  We don't really SHARE her....I have her 99% of the time.  But his parents watched her so we could go.  People did not recognize him since he cut off all his hair and put on a little needed weight.  People who were his best buddies from the womb.  

It was one of those Eat Nine Potato Chips and Drink Most of the Bourbon nights.  I can say for sure that I felt great last night.  

This morning was another matter altogether.  I had crashed at my ex in-laws house to save myself a drive home at 2:30am since I had to drop Cavey off anyway.  And it would save me in gas to just already be there when Humanling woke up. Then we'd trot off to home, easy peasey, stop at Starbucks and delight in the offerings.   (Broke Ass can conjure up $5 for Starbucks).  

Lying down, I was fine.  Then I went upright.  Then I knew there was no turning back.  My head hurt.  I was handed a cup of coffee that Wasn't Starbucks, but was surprisingly tasty.  I realized that now I was bombarding my stomach with coffee and no food.  Cavey was making breakfast for his parents...eggs, ham, toast.  The smell was dashing over to me in a relay race...first eggs, then ham, then toast.  My stomach sent signals of distress.  I ripped off the pizza crust from the night before's dinner.  I thought maybe if I just nibbled it, then waved it around a bit, it would do something good for me.  I just couldn't get too far with it.  I forced Humanling to get her things before my Effort Smile could dissolve into abrupt rudeness.  My head was ruthless, making a total display out of this hangover and letting the pain throb down my neck.  Drama.

There was a half hour drive still to contend with.  Or okay okay..maybe it was 25 minutes.  Whatever, it was so bad that I knew I had to confess to the kid that I wasn't feeling great.  Her empathy during the car ride was minimal.  It caught up when we got home.  We went through the Starbucks drive through.  I could scarcely say the name of any food item out loud without the gag reflex.  

Once home, I found that the gum I was chewing was stuck to one of my back teeth. This was a problem.  I put my finger in my mouth to pull it off and the gag reflex hit for at least five seconds.  That doesn't seem long, right?  Oh.  It was.  I fed the animals, dosed the guinea pig with his meds and then me, three pillows and the chair became acquainted.  Humanling was great about it and didn't even make noise about me putting on the music channel with swing music.  

The fan was on, the breeze was great.  Three hours later I got out of the chair, hungry and ready for coffee.  Ah, the joy of contrast.     

Sure was great to feel 25 again.  Even if it was just remembering how it felt to be 25 the Morning After.  But part of the fun was the drama that subsides after 15 years.  Two of Cavey's ex girlfriends were there.  One of mine was.  One of his wanted to stab me back in 1997 for being the reason why he broke up with her.  On this night, it was an abundance of Polite.  Of smiles.  Of water under the bridge.  She is married and just had a baby.  My ex has been married for about 14 years and has a 16 year old son.  His other ex...well ok.  That one complained to him that she stands out amongst her friends as she has no family.  

I imagined that I suddenly had a feeling that I understood how many generations before us felt.  Standing there with people you have known for so long and suddenly calculated how long exactly.  Remembering everyone as mere kids, no responsibilities.  And yet here we all are, plenty of responsibility.  And still enjoying a good party.  Just not sneaking off to make out with anyone now.  A decent enough night to forget my obsession with Flip.  

But oh yeah....I just remembered.  I'm still waiting for the day that he write me an angry email. Waiting for the email that just has let go of the anger and wants to just hang out.  I'm going to buy a new dress I think to match that shade of blue that I'll be from holding my breath for that one.

I'd Appreciate if You Could Wear Me Out Today

My hair is being twisted by smaller versions of my hands, only with stronger and sharper talons. The teen lies here in the warm, but not marshmallow roasting still in the bag type heat.  She loves to play with my hair.  Good thing because I'm a total greedbag when it comes to letting someone touch my hair.  I love it.  If I were an angry country (this again?) and someone played with my hair, I'd just nod off and fall out of my chair and the world would be safe.  Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Flip and I did manage to get into another argument yesterday before Fun Time.  This time it was his turn to get more unmanageable than I.  So we got off the phone and I swore that I could only be alive because I happened to be hula hooping while on the phone during the bickerfest.  So it was sort of like dancing all night while you drink.  You keep burning it all off as you go along and even things out a bit.  

My great trial lies in lacing up those Buh Bye shoes and taking off because I'm not enjoying the moment.  So I ran through the WWTNHD scenario in my head and decided that we couldn't let it lie like that.  We had plans originally and I still wanted to spend my time with him the way that we  talked about.  Ultimately, I emailed him back very sincerely to ask for some patience because of my major issues and that I know we all have them - whether or not he is asking me to be patient through his is his deal.  I am not him and we are not one and the same.  I deal with my stuff the way that I know how and should not be expected to be like anyone else.  I would be by to get him at the appointed time.  

We picked him up some food and ended up by his own desire, picking up a bottle of bourbon.  This morning, that bottle was depleted and I only started feeling a bit better an hour ago.  (It's 10pm).  We bounced back and forth through movies.  I noted that Jason Bateman looks damn good at his age and survived the Child Actor clutch.  Flip more or less patted my ass and wanted me to freshen his drink, which I willingly do as he has done it for me nearly most of the time when we lived together.

There was no wild and crazy anything that sometimes holds hands with a bottle of bourbon.  You can't tell which bottle will cause what.  They're sneaky that way.  Instead, I woke him up at 4:30 as he was sleeping in the recliner chair and called him to sleep next to me.  

He must really be getting sicker.  He slept past 11:30 this morning and he is normally a guy who used to guilt my ass out of bed much earlier.  No matter what I tried....um, "body language", mentioning the time or that the dog probably is waiting for him (which would normally jolt him as he is a good doggie daddy) he couldn't get himself out of bed.  So I played Farmville while laying next to him.  

Eventually he woke up enough to realize there was an untouched body next to him that would give him a good turn and acted on it.  All I can say is he wore me the eff out.  I dropped him off after picking up some delicious biscuits with cream cheese on them and we went in the house to eat and then continue the waking up process.  Which promptly put us back to sleep.  

He says he misses us living together.  There are times I agree with that.  There are times I think my heart would grow size 13 feet and kick my ass if I went back.  We don't have to think about it now anyway.  I am not free from my apartment for 10 more months.  And I like it here.  His place currently looks like a Chernobyl transplant where everything has taken over but the humans.  Mine is mostly neat.  You'll find a pile here and there and you can't count the kid's room.   His fridge is too bare and he's just weaker and weaker by the day.  

I came back home hoping to be productive.  I totally was not.  That's not actually true...I made a lot of food and went for a walk.  Then the recliner grabbed at me and forced me to cuddle up with it.  

Maybe things can be fixed eventually, I don't know.  I'll probably be raging pissed by midnight tonight regarding him.  But hopefully not.  

I Brought you a Bagel, Meet me in Bed

Well.  I'd have a bourbon tonight but I went to my very first AA  meeting last night in support of someone else.  Actually, I'm joking about not having the bourbon. I haven't poured it yet though.  I'm actually not even sure that I want it.  I maybe would like one of those delicious cookies in the Pepperidge Farms bag that's hiding from the Ling, on the top shelf in the cabinet.  

A pause has been taken, the cookies and last of the booze snuggling with three ice cubes in my glass.  It's been sitting there nearly a full ten minutes without further attention given.  The Big Bang Theory is on so therefore my brain has not thought of a thing to write while indulging in such goodness.

.....so as I write this now it is a day later.  Bourbon and cookies happened yesterday indeed.  Ok, CookIE.  Singular.  I'm pretty good with keeping the sweets tame.  


I was offered an olive branch in the form of a bagel with cream cheese from a local bakery.  On Saturday morning, the man that I hate and love at any given moment, stopped by with goodies for me and the Ling.  As any of you who have been in love know, when you haven't visited the playground of your object d'sire in a while, it doesn't take much to crush your resolve like the thin ice that shows up on the tops of puddles.  We hugged.  I was done right there.  The hug involves not some platonic pat on the back or hands that don't move.  Those were roaming hands....big, capable, wonderful hands roaming all over my back, shoulders, lower back....did I mention how done I was at this point.  I heard myself ask if I might see him that day.  So within hours, I walked into the house we used to share, wearing something date-like.  I don't care that he's seen me in sweats and nearly looking like Miss Ewww of the Month on my work from home days.  I wasn't sure what to expect after clearing through all the shrapnel of emails in the last few weeks stating that anything carnal was pretty much off limits.  To which I was determined not to bother showing any interest.  Until the bagels and porn hug showed up.  


What can I say.  I'm weak.  And no longer on a three week plus streak of nothing.  But that man can take me down without having to use much strength.  And it was his idea.  


It makes me ponder more on the subject of actual chemistry between two people.  Not the romantic notion of chemistry, but the thing that interacts and dances on an ascension until it can be satisfied.  I can't say that I've had it like this before and I cannot say that I've suffered in the hands of intimacy throughout my life.  Suffered Much.  But this is different.  This is a different animal...a higher plane where I can't ignore the magnetism, even when I'm angry.  Where not having him for more than 2 or 3 days starts to bring my mood down.  Going as long as we did during the last drought brought me to a depression.  It is a big way that I communicate.  I'm not wonderful with saying the words sometimes.  But if I feel it, then I can put words to shame with a touch.


I'm convinced that if we never had to talk, we'd be a pretty harmonious and well taken care of couple.  


I was once married to a guy who read into everything that was said.  We'd go over things and over things and it was just to a point of insanity.  He had issues with everything that was said.  So one day I came up with an idea, an experiment.  Let's not speak for one whole hour.  We can write things down or communicate however, but no talking.  We ended up naked, then at a bookstore browsing.  When the hour was up, he requested one more hour.  It was amazing.  Unfortunately, you can't go through life not speaking.  So we divorced.


But now again, whether it works or doesn't, and with new issues we have to face, he's reeled me back in just enough to ache in between the spaces that I don't see him.  Will that last?  Knowing our track record, I'll be pissed off by midnight tonight and will want to delete this post. For now though, my body is flooded with happy feelings and the memory of the gush of butterflies when he took my hand tonight and brought it to his lips.  50 Shades of Shit....I'm happy for now.

It's good to be BourbonLess for a few days.  It's like a non-intentional health kick.  Although I have read that alcohol keeps the arteries from allowing sticky stuff to accumulate.  I didn't see them touting Wine as the Golden Boy in that article so I am left to consider that my red-headed stepchild, Makers 46, is every bit as good.

Instead, I pacify the evening Quiets with half of a peanut butter and banana sandwich, hoping that I wouldn't feel guilty about the WhoNu chocolate chip cookies that charm me night after night.  According to the box, these are not your normal, dysfunctional cookies (and isn't 'dysfunctional' the 'norm'?).  THESE have no trans fats, hydrogenated oils or high fructose corn syrup. Even if there were toenails in the recipe, they are already on the Good List.  Going further they claim to have all these vitamins. If I can't have plaque destroying bourbon that sword fights sticky matter, then I'll have these cookies.

Tomorrow I bring my girl to get an ultrasound. She's only 13 and it ain't that kind of problem.  She had been complaining of belly aches on a daily basis so the doctor ordered x-rays, ultrasound and the grand Happy To Be a Mom experience - a "sample".   The sort of sample that has to be divvied up into four different vials and frozen if necessary in a bag.  I can wipe butts if it's a baby but have not at this point had to chop and divide poop for an older waste maker.  It's going to earn me a girl scout badge, that's for sure.  


The sleepies overtake me now...time to cozy up in this blanket that is small enough for me and maybe a child.  My mom gave it to me for Christmas.  It is so soft that I don't know if I can ever wash it without the Soft washing out of it.  Mmmm....cookies and cozy blankets!

2012 Tastes like Joy!

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.