Every Day is the Best Day

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.

Humanling Runs the Mafia

If I were in Boys Over Flowers, I would have received a red note on my locker.

I've been marked.

After being scolded for being 'touched' with a hula hoop three times (I'd asked after Time Numero Uno not to know the feeling of being touched with said Hoop and yet it happened two more times while the eyes of the antagonist locked with mine - and YES it bothered me - it was the Point), Humanling gave considerable thought to our relationship in her time out.

She came to the kitchen and announced to me, "You have crossed to the Dark Side of our Friendship".

This means, that I have been "kicked out of the family."

She is now a self-observed orphan, seeing as this is a one parent circus. It's almost as funny as when Cavey and I are on the phone and he precedes a sentence involving some sort of Humanling life-schedule-diet change with "We'll have to....." as if he is ever in the 3-D context of her day.

"We" who? Me and my last name? Is the cat signing school forms now?

I'm pleased and tickled to announce that although the pay off was tough, one hug later, I was back into the linear family line. Since two points don't actually make a circle. Or any other shape.

Ah, Country Living in the Middle of Gas Stations

If I were born in the 1800's, I'd miss it. Then again, I'd miss out on ballpoint pens and their later day successor, the internet keyboard. And Science of Mind magazine. And Harry Potter books. Imagine a Huck Finn/Harry Potter stand off. There is something to be said for simpler times though (and I'm not just saying that because I'm broke!)

A few years ago, I was all about buying every single new eyeshadow, trying out the mineral make ups, and throwing ultra slick lip gloss into my bag. And yes, it had everything to do with the fact that I was dating a guy who was a decade younger than me. My inner Cougar woreth push up bras, hair paraphenalia that normally dealt with Lizzie McGuire and flowery perfume to appease the statement, "Where's that Pretty Girl smell?" after Minus a Decade boy got a whiff of my anti-age stanky cream instead.

If Minus A Decade boy and I got into an argument I had a wonderful friend at work who is in her fifties, who would advise me to go shopping. That's what she does as a hobby, as therapy, as an Olympic sport. His being an a*hole could result in me coming home with orange rugs.

Eventually I would come to find out that Humanling had a form of epilepsy - Petit Mal seizures. This would be the start of a different kind of revamping of myself. Before this, I was all about recycling, throwing the peels outside for the animals (much to the disgust of my neighbors so I would do it at night) and of course, animal & human rights...although probably more animal than human.

Humanling's epilepsy set me on a firm course for research. We learned about food sensitivities and got tested. She showed up highly sensitive to gluten and dairy foods. I scoffed. Pffff....! Obviously she got THIS malady from her dumb father's side of the family. They have problems with everything. Until I got tested and learned that indeed the only thing her dad passed down was looks. I'm the one with the high sensitivities.

Research in everything set me off to find ingredients in household products, all that stuff that we slather on our bodies in the form of soaps, lotions, shampoo's, toothpaste. All the stuff that is in our SAD (which appropriately enough stands for Standard American Diet). And all the stuff that is in our Stuff.

There is TOO MUCH STUFF.

Therefore, over time, we have become gluten and dairy free vegetarians who buy almost everything second hand or lift it off someone else's yard, taking the 'free' sign with it.

I insist that much of our clothing (barring the real personals - no one needs Already There skidmarks) is second hand. I am not pissing out silver dollars (after childbirth it can't be all that bad right?) but I do believe that I make enough to simply donate our clothes when we're done instead of try to sell them.

I used to buy a ton of CDs, DVDs and books. Know what I still have tons of unused or unread? Uh huh. I've whittled down and sold a bunch on Amazon (used is recycling - no supply and demand if people are buying secondhand!!). I now get all our books at the library. They're free!!! And I can take out as many as I want! And the book will enlighten a bunch of people...not just end up on my bookshelf with all my inspired yellow highlights that are forgotten within a week and never looked at again. If I must own a book, which will happen with a lot of energy healing books, then I will go to Amazon and buy it USED. They are much cheaper and again, we are avoiding supply and demand. And when I'm done, I will either resell it, shelve it if it will continue to educate me, or donate it to the library. The same with CDs! I can usually burn them on the computer if I really like it or just borrow it again at another time. You can look at it as stealing I suppose, however, I'm more concerned with the status of the air and planet that we're on - since I haven't figured out what other planet will get good internet service or show CSI (Vegas edition) reruns.

Humanling and I are fortunate to live down the road from our town library. Whatever our library doesn't have, I can request online. They have never disappointed me. I even happily pay my late fines there knowing that the fines have paid for the services that I am of privledge to have. Now if this were Blockbuster, I'd be pissed, wouldn't pay the fine and would have to open a membership at the one on the other side of town instead.

Humanling and I aren't into all these high tech ways to have fun. Yeeeeessssss, we have this computer. We have a Gameboy (it was the door prize from my last marriage). But best of all, we have f*cking 56 Games, people!!!

56 Games is our board game that we found at a craft fair. It was marked down from $1 to 50 cent and then to a quarter before we saw it. Humanling wanted it. I thought it looked boring and hokey. All these happy kids are on the outside of the box with their feathered hair and overbites enjoying a wholesame game of checkers. But sure...its a quarter, why not. The directions inside the box were printed in 1963.

A former serial Cougar like me has had some wild times with some wild people. However, I can usually be found nightly out on the deck or the front stoop with Humanling, dosing on our 56 games. I mean this is nightly!! I sprung that quarter almost a year ago! And maybe its not everyone's deal but I mean I am totally loving the fact that my kid and I are doing something as simple as sitting outside, enjoying the evening and rollin' the die. And yelling. Every time inevitably, the neighbors are blessed with being in close proximity to the accusatory rows that involve someone cheating. We sound like angry manga brothers.

Humanling and I enjoy most of the time, and I mean about 98% of the time, unprocessed foods. That's where the Farmer's Market really came in handy. It's like being closer to our food. I can't stop sounding so gay about this (yes, I said 'gay'. I've used this term for years and I'm sure most of you know it doesn't mean 'homosexual' nor make any sort of derogatory homosexual reference ~ end of disclaimer) but I am so feeling the energy of our fresh food and that its all so delicious and local and Unprocessed! It is the way this planet meant it to be (GMOs aside after we started messing with the seeds - I refuse to buy it if I can avoid it or eat anything that is a huge GMO crop without it being organic).

Here comes the preachy moment ~ it's a beautiful thing to do what you can to avoid putting your pennies into the hands of those products that you don't really need that are running rampant due to supply and demand. Each of us have to choose our battles and decide what we can change in order to bring the "DANGER Will Robinson!" banner down a few rungs. Waste is such sorrow. And I'm not kidding. I'm not trying to be funny or poetic. It really is. Especially waste that will outlive all of us and our very own DNA that we'll never meet. Very uncool. Choose your path - eventually you'll not even know how you could live any other way. And I'm not saying I'm perfect. I have no plans to ditch my internet or cable service. However, there are other things that I can and am doing. I can embrace technology while standing firm on technology that isn't necessary and is downright dangerous.

Summer is introducing putting our hands into the palms of Autumn within a month. That's just so awesome. Humanling and I will be moving our shouting match indoors so that the neighbors can have a new listening experience of who's allegedly cheating.

If this video has no effect for you then we will need to change your battery.

A day Late and a Dollar Short on the Holiday Timing but...

I may have been just a tad busy in the last week handling a mutual crashing back into love. So particular post is something that I wrote last October. So in honor of those Hallmark cards that don't exist for this occasion....

Feelin' bizarre....full moon, , hired lawyer today and crapped out $3500 in the form of my credit card for a deposit on her. If she doesn't work can I return her and get my deposit back?
I did go to bed earlier, woke up and needed to get out of bed, so back down here. Went to sleep wondering about the vacations that my ex and I took....who was he? Who was I? Will I ever want to spend time with a guy again in that way? Right now I can't even deal with my ex from a few years ago - he's sooo nice and well meaning, but (the B.... word to the nth power) he is an EX for many reasons. Reasons that simmer to the surface during small interactions. He is well meaning, and a bit of a practical tart. If I wanted to ruffle his feathers I would tell him something along the lines of the fact that I withdrew $10 from an ATM that wasn't my bank and incurred a $1.75 fee.
He has been there for me for the past month and a half to "help" me. He's doing my lawn while the house is on the market, offers to camp out on my couch so that I'm in no danger of the 21 year old Carpet man coming back to consider me a much older conquest. Its bad when I go to check my arse in the mirror and see his head poking out of it - that's how far up it he's been. Then he gets offended when I don't want to spend any time together. I just don't. A man up and leaving you will sometimes result in that whole Wish I Liked Men named Ashley or Mariah thing. Presently, I've no room or energy to be spending time on a guy when I have my eight year old.
And why is it that men get amped to date you and spend time with you but in their mind have warped you into their universe where you either seem to have no children or a 24/7 nanny so that you can be inserted into their plans on a constant basis? then say "you're no fun". The quickest way to turn Me to Mean in 2 seconds is to chid me on my lack of impulsive sexual prowess when I've got homework, dinner and cat water bowl to tend to.
I used to have the next guy all cued up and ready to play when the first record was over. Now I guess I'll kick back and wait for the grey hairs to start because I am SO not interested in exerting my time anymore on anyone but myself, my family and those dreams that have been put on the backburner of a non working stove underwater.
This brings to mind the camping trip that I took with my family this past weekend. My father is 64, the only man on the planet that I know that can cause bladder leakage with one warning look. And I don't mean to me, I mean to any breathing, heart beating human. I was the kind of scared of him that caused compensations and defense mechanisms to develop to occur very young. He was a violent man, an alchoholic (aren't they all?). One of those relationships where growing up, I was a momma's girl and wondered what that was like when girls wanted to be around their dad's because I wasn't one of them. So when I was nine, the family was done the final favor and my parents split up. Over the years, the relationship with him has been effort after effort in vain....the kind where you know if one of us died, the other one would know for sure that we'd f**ked up and should have done the kiss and make up thing a long time ago. And maybe we would have if we knew what we were apologizing for. We are who we are. And I know that my dad is sick...he's had Hep C for many years....the strong, partying, terrifying figure who lifts weights and revers nature was turned down, after giving gallons of blood, about 10 years ago when his blood was screened. He most likely got it from needle sharing. Dare this man to do anything and he'll cut his nose off to spite his face, just so you can hear him echoing in the distance...."I did it though, didn't I?"
So when his birthday was coming, his wife emailed me to say we'd all be going camping, I knew I wouldn't turn this down. We have a hard time being around each other...inevitably I usually walk away hurt by something he says or does(and I've been accused of having an ice sculpture for a heart in the past!) In recent months, my own mother has passed information down to me that she hears my father might not be doing as well, but of course he would never verify that....my father's liver could be cutting an escape hatch right in front of your face and he would merely say that he doesn't know what you're referring to. He does not talk sickness.
We went and it turned out to be something that I am glad I didn't refuse. We are like two strangers of the same animal, checking each other out from the distance, watching, observing, interested, but not getting too close much of the time. I'd watch him cutting wood for the fire, thinking how Not Sick he looks. I noticed in turn that he would stand up in the woods staring down at his brood - me, my brother, the grandkids, going about chasing around the youngest, walking rocks with the older ones.
When the kids went to bed and we finally had a very short time alone, me, my dad and his wife sat around ingesting much of the campfire smoke due to an instigating wind. My father tried his best, beer in hand, to reach out to me. He sat next to me and explained that he was going to have a simple party at his home for his birthday this year. However, with the circumstances of my life and husband walking out and leaving me with much of the burden of selling our home and tipping my life into an angle that I never thought I'd have to view from, my father said that he wanted this trip to happen for me. He got us all together and had us do an autumnal equinox camping trip because he thought I needed it - to get away and be with family and not worry about things for a couple of days. He doesn't say much most of the time. It's always just beneath the surface. You sense it's there and both of you wait for the other person to make the first move, but usually no one does. And the moment goes away. Then you wonder if you'll ever have the chance again before its too late. A eulogy is the wrong vehicle for expressing such things - getting it out in person is essential for the flow of energy for both people involved, in turn, affecting the immediate consciousness and flow of those around you.
I thought about it. They took wonderful care of me this weekend. So good, I am grateful beyond belief and the ice sculpture of my heart melts through my eyes. When I got there this past weekend, I barely had to lift a finger other than help take care of kids. My tent was already up, sleeping bags for me and my daughter assembled, my dad's wife made my favorite soup that she makes on Thanksgiving that I cash in my pride for and beg to take the rest home - butternut squash. She spent 2 days cooking so much food for everyone, and I can see where they really really took care of me. No one takes care of me - its amazing to have yielded to it in its subtlety.
Something shifted in this trip. I can't say that for sure but I felt our relationship straining to blossom. What was it said about the tree in the forest (a bamboo I think) that appeared dead for years but in reality, it was growing roots first and then eventually, shot up higher than the others around it. This is the closest it has ever gotten to lifting its face to the sun. I know the possibility of him departing this life could be sooner than I would have had time to figure out how to bridge the gap between us. I saw in this trip, how fast life goes. He brought a small photo book with photos that spanned his life. Pictures of him smaller than my eight year old, on a sled in the snow. How can you picture such a pivotal and ferocious figure in your life as a harmless little boy, wrapped in a snowsuit by his own mom, sitting on a sled, waiting to be pulled? A blink of an eye. Now it's past me and my brother...now its our kids too. The ones on the sled. I never want to see the string of the sled sitting there, while my daughter waits patiently for the pull that no one wants to give or has time for. If I ever see photos of her on the sled, I want to see my hand at the end of the rope, big smile on her face, no disappointments, no bridges to close up years down the road, no hurts outweighing the relationship.
As much as my father and I don't know each other, we do. I am the muted version of him rolling around in the mud of optimism. He must know me inherently enough, to have planned out exactly what I needed this past weekend.

Devil with a Booby Shaped Dress On

Tonight's recap of the day and whatever decides to flow through me may be sort of dumbified. I have Sprout on in the background. The lady's voice who hangs with the star, is distracting me in a way where I could.....had I not made prior agreements with myself to be negative for 30 days, get annoyed. And not annoyed by her voice, but annoyed with myself for being distracted.

We decided to see Horton Hears a Who this morning. Relish the moments with a movie on a Sunday morning with coffee, a not so crowded theatre, and your ex who sort of smells like the night before in a very public way. Our humanling is the buffer between our seats.

We can continue to refer to him as Ex Caveman. He is a very big hearted neanderthal with a few addictions in a Jack Kerouac sense. Apparently his band went on at the witching hour last night. And apparently there must have been quite the gale force in the room because when he walked out to my beep this morning, his very long hair defied gravity and was bent sideways like the arrow on a compass to guide us to the movie theatre. I was on the cell with my mom when he fell into my view and I do recall a sentence of exclaimation that I said something to her using the word "mess". He has a great sense of humour thankfully and can handle most of my verbal poking. At least Back In the Day, a week ago when I was not on my 30 day trek!

Cavey makes money here and there and needs a lot of help getting by much of the time. So when he offered to take us out to eat for Easter, I wanted to be sure that he had money left in his pocket for himself. He is too much of a grasshopper and will blow the whole wad in one sitting, on impulse, if we pushed him to. So I chose the movie before noon (three of us for $18! Yes!) and decided on pizza, thinking that a few slices would be easy on the wallet.

He is a Sagittarius and needs to do things big. Not JUST pizza, but pizza at an expensive restaurant. Thankfully his family is in good with them and they spend thousands of dollars that they don't have there. They are so comfortable with him that they asked if we wouldn't mind picking up some jellybeans for them since they weren't officially open, but would be shortly. When we got back, the door was locked and Cavey was holding his sack of jellybeans, waiting for the door to open.

Humanling however, is a Capricorn who is very concerned with Things Happening On Time Like We Said They Would. She can be seen pouting outside here:

Fear not - this lasted a mere 10 minutes. Nonexistent in Jupiter Standard Time. Lunch apparently starts near 1:30 here.

I might mention that Humanling's dress is sponsored by Easter Bunny Ltd. When she saw it in her basket, she said to me "Oh, this is for you." Further inquiry produced the answer, "Its Booby-Shaped."

We did see a favorite friend pass on today. Someone we know as The Man. The Man usually shows up in stores or restaurants when Humanling was younger and rambunctious. We would say really fast "HereComesTheMan!" and like a cloud of magic, behavior was interrupted. Today Cavey tried to pull the Man out of a hat in the restaurant. His endeavor was met with a dead stare and the nearly tween words, "It's not funny anymore."

The Man has stopped lurking in Walmart, and has hitched a ride to his spot amongst the cream of the Legendary Intangible crop. Santa and those of his ilk haven't even been given the pardon yet. So here's to you, The Man. Happy Easter - new life, eternal life in someone else's parental bluff.

Day 6

Since I mentioned the number Six a couple times in the last post, it seemed like a good day to check in. Am I still seeing through the person driving the car in front of me (as snails pass us on the left) with a Soundgarden Black Hole Sun smile? But of course I am.....mostly.

Traffic seems to be the number one irk for me. And its not even Atlanta, GA traffic here. This is like owning a peopleless world compared to that. I suppose I will need to reinvent new ways of saying in a coaxing voice, "Come on, you can do it, you can turn now...I know you can", although that sounds pretty darn positive to me! Here's where intent comes in....do I mean it? Hell yes I do! I KNOW they can make that turn - and they can do it faster than they appear to even know!

All kidding aside (because I am Pollyanna right now with a skull barrette), I do know that maybe they are a visitor - to Danbury, Connecticut! Or perhaps they have gotten a small mountain of speeding tickets in the past, or they are blasted drunk and trying to overcompensate by their inability to get within 5 miles of the speed limit.

The week went rather well. It was almost effortless to cast any momentary whiff of defensiveness to the galaxian wind. I found that smiling, even though it could have counted as one step away from gritting of the teeth, felt way better and didn't make me look or feel like a HEE HAW HEE HAW in an old Looney Tunes episode.

My eyes sparkled at the wading pool on the kitchen floor caused by the portable dishwasher hook up that wasn't quite tight enough. I nearly handed out awards when the red easter egg dye spilled all over the beige tablecloth. I used that time behind the car that a human could have pushed faster from behind, to listen to music, sing or talk to God. I take those slow downs as reminders to connect. Connect with God, listen for an answer that I may have been waiting for, or contemplate what is for dinner.

My health diet has been mostly on target...however, (uh oh - a word that defies that it is actually going how I said that it would) there were some days this week considered 'special' with my daughter and we accidentally drove to Borders and had those towering cups of whipped cream and hot chocolate. I accidentally even asked for the peppermint candies to be sprinkled Under the whipped cream for maximum WC enjoyment. Enough of that! Positive things only!

Like the little weather bubble that pops up randomly on my computer to tell me how warm it is in Pinetop, Arizona. I am not recalling the moment that I adjusted my Connecticut weather tracking system in order to know how the folks in Pinetop are doing. Perhaps that is one of those *signs* that is blatantly being written on my forehead and I should be doing more research on Pinetop instead of thinking how quaint it is that their high today was 45 degrees.

Have I wondered yet how authentic my intentions are with this experiment? Absolutely. In fact, I am reverting to my childhood and figuring that until I get the moment exactly right, these are all do-overs. This whole week was fabulous - it wasn't a sky high OMG bowl of insanity and cheese but it was pretty dang good. I need to climb out of that American thought frame of needing something to feel like an electric shock to know that I'm in the right place. There is too much emphasis on getting that WOW feeling when we are exposed to so much that it can be almost elusive. Yet, at the same time, its so easy to get that WOW feeling if you pretend that you are on death row and don't know if you will ever get clearance to leave. Would I rather be on death row or would I rather shuffle the dirty towel - that I have in the corner for these purposes - all over the floor with my feet to dry it?

Some cool bigger than ordinary things did happen this week. I played nicely in the sandbox with people who normally can irritate me. My tax refund showed up in my financial Inbox. I had a fun conversation with someone who I'd only known by sight for months.

I am still reading "Law of Attraction". It's definitely clarified some things for me and made it so easy that it practically asks only to rub the jacketcover and make a wish.

Another book that is getting rather worn for me is Science of the Mind by Ernest Holmes.

I also had the prize winning feeling of two reserved books being ready for me at the library today. One is "How Starbucks Saved My Life" (coffee in the title! I have to read it by default of coffee a'mouration.). The other is "Zero Limits".

I'm taking off my bunny costume for the night. Eggs are glowing natural colors of purple, red and blue, basket is hidden and irridescent plastic eggs filled with Hershey's Minatures are in their irridescent bellies.

I just have one more thought:

Are guinea pigs supposed to sound like a video game montage from the 80s when you pet them?

God takes party breaks on Friday nights

Just so you know....he really does. You know, I think I'm realizing that God's up there like a good parent, watching, but not hovering. We end up closing our little human fingers in the proverbial car door over and over again while he slaps his palm on his immortal forehead, "They've done it again.....that's the ninth time this week!". We get into our own pool of molasses and although he can't stop us from doing it - unless we are actively asking for him to help us walk AROUND it, he can show us the bee-free path in which to crawl out of it.

And how was YOUR Friday night? Ok, enough about you, it's my blog.

I picked my 9 year old daughter up from my mother's after work. My day usually runs to the effect of me taking my lunch break at 3pm, running into the town next door to get her, then bringing her to my mom's and then racing back to work, ticket and adrenaline-free. She was fine during yesterday's hustle which was proven by her bout of Sassy Mouth on the way there. When I picked her up later, she was suddenly befallen with ear pain that caused her to sound like a channel I wished to shut off, sympathy intact. (Can I tell her that's what she gets for back talking? That's what my Italian grandmother would have done!) So what we do as single parents when the pain strikes? Besides call the other parent and do a quick drive by drop off? Medicate usually, with one of those liver pummeling meds that work so well - Tylenol, Advil, Tequila. Her normal dose of Tylenol would not have been a good candidate for Olympic standards and you can't exactly overmedicate or else there's the fear of going the route of Too Much Cough Syrup. And although I make plenty of dumb mistakes, I do not want to veer into the magnitude of THAT kind of mistake.

So we opted for the hot towel on the outside of the ear and lots of research on internet posts. Eventually, my anti-anything in the ear side got sucker punched by my self preservation of sanity, and I opted for putting a few drops of peroxide in her ear for about 20 seconds. I don't know if it worked but at the time, she was still crying and complaining about the "crunching" and "buzzing" sounds in her head. (If anyone knows exactly what that's all about, I'd love to hear about it.)

Desperate to find meds that worked, I decided at 10:30pm that we would battle the mean streets and face drunk drivers to head to our 24 hour Walgreens. As soon as we stepped outside, I had done the thing that I always feared. My car and house keys were on the counter in the house. On the other side of the locked door. Folks, I am in Connecticut. It's not warm here much at night right now and the sky got in on the effect and added some precipitation (we haven't quite gotten all the way to the Lamb part of March yet). I wondered when a soundtrack of some sort would start and I'd see an orchestra of insane violins marching up the road.

I happened to have my dying cell phone on me, which kept shutting down after three sentences with anyone. Who do you normally call in emergencies? I call a pair of Capricorns - my real estate agent AND my ex boyfriend. My agent can get into the house since it is for sale. But for security measures, the lockbox shuts down at 9pm. Damn. I couldn't have made a major mistake before security kicked in??? Or for that matter, when it wasn't raining? Or there wasn't a sick child staring at me in horror with her tear-stained, puffy eyes?

My realtor showed up to the pathetic visual of me and my daughter standing huddled against the front door, lock box in my hand as I measured the real validity of breaking the window with it. She said that her husband had a great talent for opening doors. I asked if he had a criminal record. No one laughed. Must I always be the sole proprietor of a sense of humour?

Nothing was working, however, I found a window that belonged to the room of my ex Form of Protoplasm. He used to keep his instruments in there (and probably a whole closet full of dastardly plans on how to save himself while fully immersing the recipients into a fine line between Heart Attack Induced by Stress and Go Get 'Em Now Pull up Those Boot Straps stress). Apparently he probably had the window open at some point and never closed the storm window that was down on every other window. My Real Estate Life Saver lifted her hubby to the window and he went in face first. Thankfully the cat litter is on the other side of the room.

I am positive that God saw a blip on his radar at this approximate latitude and took a break from his peeps for a moment. Although I had neglected to charge my cell, He allowed it to work for moments so that I could at least call someone. As it turned out, my ex, who represents the man who sits around in cape and tights just waiting for THE CALL, was mere moments from the house. So I had two bee-free paths and no window replacing on my to do list today. So I'm gonna shout out to God a huge THANK YOU!!! I would have gotten him a gift card to Ruby Tuesdays like I did for my real estate agent, but I can't picture him dipping his fries in ranch dressing.

3 Degrees of Weird Thought to Dr. Seuss

I just realized that it is that mad man of rhyme mayhem's birthday today. Tomorrow is the day for stripey tall hats and bow ties at my daughter's school. When she seemed tentative about donning her 2 story hat, I reminded her that EVERYONE will basically be a doof tomorrow in those hats. Except me. We only have one. And while it is common knowledge that the pharmaceutical industry is huge on rhyming and diming (I am in Accounts Receivable after all when not selling my jewelry - oh no. Duck. It's a shameless plug - which can be found at http://www.morganna713.etsy.com), I will not be partaking in Seussal Drag. However, anyone wishing to find out more about this Genius of Weird, an article on NPR can be found here - http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=7651308.

As a youngin' (Oh I guess that means 'currently'), I was scolded prettily for never reading anything from our media center in school except for Dr. Seuss books. Maybe it was because my mom already supplied me with the How Babies Are Born (Disturbing Photographs Edition) at home and I needed some Light Reading. One story in particular used to creep me out...and yet, I couldn't stop reading it. "What was I Scared Of?" was an even more off the wall, if not downright horror story for a child, up until the ending. It consisted of one of Seuss's beings (I never do know what to call them) being followed by a pair of pale green pants - with NOBODY INSIDE THEM. I couldn't get past that part. A pair of pants floating around, running in air, rowing a boat - all to stalk the Seussical Being. Eventually, the pants do end up shirking down to the ground with a bad case of the shakes. We have to remember that this was before the days of Xanax - and even so, had it been tested and deemed safe for mobile textiles? There is a happy ending and naturally, a lesson. A lesson that I obviously failed miserably since I'm 38 and still judging the intentions of a pair of stalker trousers.

I will divulge one of our weird daily rituals in honor of our wonderful and strange author. For whatever reason, be it latitude and longitude of our town, a chip on the corner of a close star, or laziness for an hour prior, Humanling and I both need to use the Pot-Tay when we get home in the early evening. What must occur is that we burst through the front door (but I have the key so I have some leverage) as soon as someone says the magic words..."I GOTTA PEE!" Within 2 seconds must come the answering call, "ME TOO!" and then a tearing rampage up the stairs trying to stay at least 2 stairs above the other person. Throwing my arm in front of her and pushing her slightly behind is indispensable. I am usually ahead so I can stop and turn on a hall light, trim my nails, or spackle the wall. Then its timed right so that I get into the bathroom first and when I know Humanling will appear at the door, it gets slammed in her face.

Oh boo hoo. Yeah it sounds mean. Whatever, like no one who has read this mind tortures some life form (pets, spouses, your own mirrored image). We laugh up a storm during this and half the time during one of these aerobic, narrow-stair defying acts, we really don't have to go at all.

There are times I am simply doing something in another room and from yonder hills, the Call of the Challenge invites me to respond like a St. Bernard with a barrel..."I GOTTA PEE!"