Whether you say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, the message should all be the same, "Peace on earth and good will to all mankind."
Why, you ask?
Take a look around. See past the end of your nose. The end of your driveway. The end of the street on which you live. The world is a big place.
There are so many wars we could be fighting. Wars to end hunger. Wars to end violence. Wars to fight for the good of all, and not just one ... So why start another war?
No matter what you call Christmas, Christmas should be in your heart. So Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays ... No matter how you say it this season, live it ...
More Than Words ...
I can't help but focus on words. Words always have meaning to me. Some people say things without meaning to. I say things meaning to say them, even when I know that sometimes I shouldn't. Sometimes I should order myself to sit down and be quiet. And other times I take pride in my verbosity.
Sometimes word are all I have. Even when I'm only saying them to myself. Or writing them down in a secret journal wishing that my thoughts could be as easily heard as the ink that scrawls them across the paper.
But there are some thoughts that I keep to myself and do not share. These secret words live inside me like small dragons breathing fire. But I do not melt. And I seldom say these things out loud.
I have a passion for words. The way they look. The way they sound. And how they tell the story of my soul. Words are my energy. And energy lasts forever.
Sometimes word are all I have. Even when I'm only saying them to myself. Or writing them down in a secret journal wishing that my thoughts could be as easily heard as the ink that scrawls them across the paper.
But there are some thoughts that I keep to myself and do not share. These secret words live inside me like small dragons breathing fire. But I do not melt. And I seldom say these things out loud.
I have a passion for words. The way they look. The way they sound. And how they tell the story of my soul. Words are my energy. And energy lasts forever.
Learning the Curve
I have been a very bad blogger once again. Just when I thought I was back on a straight and narrow path, I prove to all of you out there that indeed the world is flat and more often than not, I'm all about sailing right over the edge ...
But here I am, and all those days in-between now and then are simply spilt milk days.
However I must bring you up to date on recent events as I do believe I've learned something of value from them.
And what I've learned is ...
That sometimes it isn't always about the money. And although we did get our child support issue fixed, the real issue was a whole lot of things that were waiting to be said for the past ten years.
I don't know about all of you, but I know that I feel so much better when I'm not hanging on to old anger and old bitterness. Because the truth is, when you hang on to all of those things, they're never old. They're always fresh and new. And how can you really expect to go on with life and move on from whatever it is that caused you pain, if you never allow yourself the joy of getting over the past. And honestly, don't we owe ourselves the opportunity to find a new kind of happiness?
I'm not saying however, that we should always choose to forgive and forget. Some things are simply unforgivable. And no matter how hard we might try to put them from our minds, they will always be there. The key is learning where to store them, and when to allow them entrance into your life. And we all know that it is far easier to say that, than it is to do that. But we have to try. For ourselves and for the people we care about.
I know that it's not fair to temper everything in my life according to old hurts. But I know I do. It takes me far too long to trust. An eternity to believe. And doubt hangs on me like it knows me better than myself. And when I'm hurt, I put my heart on ice and close myself away. Growing a distance. Because I know how to do that so well. It's what I've learned. A self-preservation of sorts.
When conflict arises, my first instinct is always to run. To get myself out of whatever situation it is that has become too much for me. When I was a little girl, I hid under the covers whenever my parents would fight, or I would run into my sister's room and crawl into bed with her. My safety blanket was knowing that I could always flee. But the thing I always sought to hide most were always my tears.
But that is a topic for another day. And to be honest, my mind is occupied elsewhere at the moment ...
So until tomorrow. And if we're lucky, I'll even finish my thoughts from this post.
But here I am, and all those days in-between now and then are simply spilt milk days.
However I must bring you up to date on recent events as I do believe I've learned something of value from them.
And what I've learned is ...
That sometimes it isn't always about the money. And although we did get our child support issue fixed, the real issue was a whole lot of things that were waiting to be said for the past ten years.
I don't know about all of you, but I know that I feel so much better when I'm not hanging on to old anger and old bitterness. Because the truth is, when you hang on to all of those things, they're never old. They're always fresh and new. And how can you really expect to go on with life and move on from whatever it is that caused you pain, if you never allow yourself the joy of getting over the past. And honestly, don't we owe ourselves the opportunity to find a new kind of happiness?
I'm not saying however, that we should always choose to forgive and forget. Some things are simply unforgivable. And no matter how hard we might try to put them from our minds, they will always be there. The key is learning where to store them, and when to allow them entrance into your life. And we all know that it is far easier to say that, than it is to do that. But we have to try. For ourselves and for the people we care about.
I know that it's not fair to temper everything in my life according to old hurts. But I know I do. It takes me far too long to trust. An eternity to believe. And doubt hangs on me like it knows me better than myself. And when I'm hurt, I put my heart on ice and close myself away. Growing a distance. Because I know how to do that so well. It's what I've learned. A self-preservation of sorts.
When conflict arises, my first instinct is always to run. To get myself out of whatever situation it is that has become too much for me. When I was a little girl, I hid under the covers whenever my parents would fight, or I would run into my sister's room and crawl into bed with her. My safety blanket was knowing that I could always flee. But the thing I always sought to hide most were always my tears.
But that is a topic for another day. And to be honest, my mind is occupied elsewhere at the moment ...
So until tomorrow. And if we're lucky, I'll even finish my thoughts from this post.
Wiping the Slate Clean
I was reading one of my regular blogs tonight when something she said really hit home ... (L ... I hope you don't mind.)
Boy, have I been there, and it's like making deals with the devil and letting someone walk all over you, just to get a little peace in your life, so you can live it without full out drama all of the time. You give up on fixing things you know need to be fixed because you can't handle the stress. And it feels like you're handling it all alone. And no one has your back ...
For the past five years, I've ignored a pretty big problem, because I didn't want the stress of going back to court, and because I got tired of trying to fight all my battles on my own. I know those threats well ... The kind of threats some people make that make you decide not to rock the boat, because you know if you do, they're going to send some pretty big waves in your direction. And when you're only trying to stay afloat, the last thing you want are waves ...
But I'm making waves now. And I'm rocking the boat. And I'm saying you know what, do your worst, I'm not scared of you anymore. I've waited five years to stand up to you and even if the courts don't grant me every last cent you owe, damn it will still feel good.
So when we're sitting across from each other at that table tomorrow, and you're looking for someone to blame, take a really long look at yourself Pinnochio, and then maybe instead of being a wooden boy, you'll be a real man.
This has always been the Petitioner’s “modus operandi”– the Petitioner consistently threatens and harasses the Respondent when he does not “get his way” while steadfastly refusing to comply with the Stipulations previously agreed to. Almost every letter the Petitioner has written contains the threat of taking the Respondent back to court, leaving the Respondent feeling she must comply with his demands.
Boy, have I been there, and it's like making deals with the devil and letting someone walk all over you, just to get a little peace in your life, so you can live it without full out drama all of the time. You give up on fixing things you know need to be fixed because you can't handle the stress. And it feels like you're handling it all alone. And no one has your back ...
For the past five years, I've ignored a pretty big problem, because I didn't want the stress of going back to court, and because I got tired of trying to fight all my battles on my own. I know those threats well ... The kind of threats some people make that make you decide not to rock the boat, because you know if you do, they're going to send some pretty big waves in your direction. And when you're only trying to stay afloat, the last thing you want are waves ...
But I'm making waves now. And I'm rocking the boat. And I'm saying you know what, do your worst, I'm not scared of you anymore. I've waited five years to stand up to you and even if the courts don't grant me every last cent you owe, damn it will still feel good.
So when we're sitting across from each other at that table tomorrow, and you're looking for someone to blame, take a really long look at yourself Pinnochio, and then maybe instead of being a wooden boy, you'll be a real man.
Just My Ten Cents
Well, I've started my Christmas shopping, not that I was nuts enough to attempt the 5 a.m. Black Friday morning rush. Working enough years in retail (during my younger days) gave me more than enough common sense to avoid that kind of pandemonium. And seeing the carnage on internet video more than secured my thoughts that no deal at any given WalMart store or any other of its ilk is worth getting up at the crack of dawn and subjecting my body to the trampling. Not my idea of a very Merry Christmas trying to knock someone else over for some gotta have toy ... Screw that. I don't even like to grocery shop during the holidays!
Because around here, it's quite obvious that the holidays do something to your head. Suddenly every moron who ever got behind a wheel is out and about, cutting and weaving through snow laden roads and heavy traffic. And every penny pincher is playing their own version of Mr. Scrooge in holiday lines that seem to go on forever as they argue with the cashier over the "Principle of ten cents" ... Get a clue people! There is absolutely no principle of saving your ten cents when you keep me waiting in line for over ten minutes! Move on and get over it or if need be put the damn item back!
For instance I tried to buy a new snow brush for my car the other day. But when I got to the register, wouldn't you know it, there was no price sticker on the item. Now I could have been a miserable bitch (I am getting quite good at it you know) and held everyone and their mother up for a price check but I said screw it. I wasn't about to waste my own time for some four dollar snow brush that I could probably get cheaper somewhere else anyway. You see, I have no principles. At least not when it comes to my holiday shopping ...
Because around here, it's quite obvious that the holidays do something to your head. Suddenly every moron who ever got behind a wheel is out and about, cutting and weaving through snow laden roads and heavy traffic. And every penny pincher is playing their own version of Mr. Scrooge in holiday lines that seem to go on forever as they argue with the cashier over the "Principle of ten cents" ... Get a clue people! There is absolutely no principle of saving your ten cents when you keep me waiting in line for over ten minutes! Move on and get over it or if need be put the damn item back!
For instance I tried to buy a new snow brush for my car the other day. But when I got to the register, wouldn't you know it, there was no price sticker on the item. Now I could have been a miserable bitch (I am getting quite good at it you know) and held everyone and their mother up for a price check but I said screw it. I wasn't about to waste my own time for some four dollar snow brush that I could probably get cheaper somewhere else anyway. You see, I have no principles. At least not when it comes to my holiday shopping ...
Swirling Patterns of Snow
The snow falls, swirls outside the kitchen window, dropping down in a diagonal fashion when the wind gently nudges its side. And though it seems as if it should stop - so much has fallen already - it just continues on, falling where it will and how it will with no thought to itself that by now the sky should be empty.
But the emptiness isn't outside.
The emptiness is all around us. In our hearts, our minds, our dreams, our beds ...
And every morning we wake up to this same emptiness. Feeling like a flame that with one breath can be extinquished from burning.
We are not on fire.
We are as cold as the snow that falls outside.
We are freezing from the inside out.
An Hour Before Dawn
I must call it a night early and get myself to bed. Though it's not a 12 hour road trip to North Carolina (though to be honest I wish it were) KC and I are taking off early tomorrow morning to head towards the mountains and Grandma's house.
The drive is pretty easy and as long as the weather holds off from dumping more snow on us than we need at the moment, it should be smooth sailing to and back.
So I'm off to bed ... Perhaps I'll find some good dreams to come and keep me company until morning.
And if for some reason some of you go away on holiday before I come back ...
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
The drive is pretty easy and as long as the weather holds off from dumping more snow on us than we need at the moment, it should be smooth sailing to and back.
So I'm off to bed ... Perhaps I'll find some good dreams to come and keep me company until morning.
And if for some reason some of you go away on holiday before I come back ...
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
A Beginning of Thoughts
Once upon a time ...
There were a thousand different stories. A million pages or more filled with names, and faces. There were fantastic tales of fantasy, and devastating memoirs of reality. And real commingled with imagined in such a way that it was hard to tell just where the line was drawn or crossed.
Once upon a time ...
There was an equal amount of light to compare with the darkness. And the darkness only lasted as long as it took for the sun to reappear along the horizon. And where there was no hope, hope still existed. It existed in solitary moments and in moments when you could be anything but alone, making its presence known like the first frost of winter, sharpening the fine green blades of grass into frozen portraits of stillness.
Once upon a time ...
We took chances to prove our worth. And gave in to the idea that our sense of worth was dependent on anyone other than ourselves. We sought perfection, only to prove that it didn't exist. And learned that happiness must be based on something more than somebody else's standards and ideals.
Once upon a time ...
We decided to live. To love. To laugh. To cry. To dream. To hope.
There were a thousand different stories. A million pages or more filled with names, and faces. There were fantastic tales of fantasy, and devastating memoirs of reality. And real commingled with imagined in such a way that it was hard to tell just where the line was drawn or crossed.
Once upon a time ...
There was an equal amount of light to compare with the darkness. And the darkness only lasted as long as it took for the sun to reappear along the horizon. And where there was no hope, hope still existed. It existed in solitary moments and in moments when you could be anything but alone, making its presence known like the first frost of winter, sharpening the fine green blades of grass into frozen portraits of stillness.
Once upon a time ...
We took chances to prove our worth. And gave in to the idea that our sense of worth was dependent on anyone other than ourselves. We sought perfection, only to prove that it didn't exist. And learned that happiness must be based on something more than somebody else's standards and ideals.
Once upon a time ...
We decided to live. To love. To laugh. To cry. To dream. To hope.
It's My Party ...
I'm thirty-one today. And it's strange to think that I could really be that old when it seems like it was just yesterday I was turning sixteen and learning how to drive my Mother's car. And the day before that I was running around half naked in the back yard with an Indian chieftain's hat on my head pretending I was a great warrior with a green cape wrapped around my shoulders.
It amazing to think that I'm really a grown up now. I remember when my Mom turned thirty-two and how old I thought she was. And now I'm just a year away from that same age and the truth is, I don't feel old at all.
Maybe the thing is that no matter what age you are, you're always who you were the day before. Even when I'm old and gray, I'll still be the same little girl with the big brown eyes and slightly mischievous smile ...
It amazing to think that I'm really a grown up now. I remember when my Mom turned thirty-two and how old I thought she was. And now I'm just a year away from that same age and the truth is, I don't feel old at all.
Maybe the thing is that no matter what age you are, you're always who you were the day before. Even when I'm old and gray, I'll still be the same little girl with the big brown eyes and slightly mischievous smile ...
Where the Time Goes ...
I'm alive ... And breathing. And thinking of all the things that I'd like to write about again some time soon. But for now, I'm becoming familiar with this silence. This pulling together of thoughts, one by one, until sooner or later this page will await them all.
Don't give up on me. Some morning in the near future, when you sit down before your computer with your coffee in hand, looking for something worthwhile to read and waste a few minutes of your morning, something will be here.
I'll be here ...
Don't give up on me. Some morning in the near future, when you sit down before your computer with your coffee in hand, looking for something worthwhile to read and waste a few minutes of your morning, something will be here.
I'll be here ...
Geeked Up
Just read a book that I thought was a good read ... I won't go so far as to say that everyone I know would care much for it at all, but tonight it was something that I was glad to have read. Perhaps what I needed was a new perspective after all ...
Night Swimming by Robin Schwarz
Night Swimming by Robin Schwarz
Unsent, Unspoken
Silence speaks louder than words. Censure alone speaks volumes. And it's what isn't said that does most of the damage. Because when we're forced to read between the lines, we draw a line that can't be crossed. Not by ourselves. Not by others.
If we're left to guess, we often guess wrong. We error in favor of what we think is sound judgment. Our interpretation of what is and what is not as we seek to understand. But all we do is redefine our language. And play back conversations in our minds. And wonder how something so simple as a sentence can go in one ear and out the other and remain misunderstood.
I cannot put my text in bold letters to make you understand. Your perception as you read will alter from my own. And what I'm saying will make no sense. But in my mind the wheels are turning, just as I turn from left to right, tossing in my bed with my desire to know what thoughts occupy your mind, and why it is your mouth moves with empty words.
If we're left to guess, we often guess wrong. We error in favor of what we think is sound judgment. Our interpretation of what is and what is not as we seek to understand. But all we do is redefine our language. And play back conversations in our minds. And wonder how something so simple as a sentence can go in one ear and out the other and remain misunderstood.
I cannot put my text in bold letters to make you understand. Your perception as you read will alter from my own. And what I'm saying will make no sense. But in my mind the wheels are turning, just as I turn from left to right, tossing in my bed with my desire to know what thoughts occupy your mind, and why it is your mouth moves with empty words.
Glitch In the System
Okay ... So here I am all ready to post and what do you think happens? I get so tired that all I can think of to say is that I need to go to bed ...
Damn ... Derailed already.
Damn ... Derailed already.
Getting Back on Track
It's time to get this blog back on track. And despite my recent thoughts of finding an appropriate way for it to meet its end, I've decided to throw it a life line and rescue it from its self imposed extinction.
So much has happened this past month that it's hard to know where to start or even what I should, and of course, shouldn't say ...
But as you've all gathered by now, KC and I moved our entire household. And it was quite an experience. I am convinced that you never know just how much nonsense you own until you've had to sort and pack it all away into boxes. I've still all sorts of unpacking to do, and rearranging to do as well, but for now, this week, I'm keeping rather low key getting used to the hum of the fluorescent light in the kitchen and the sounds this house makes in the middle of the night.
There is some humor in this move however ... The house I'm in boasts one thing that no other place I've lived ever has. I'm now right next door to my boss. And even though car pooling is now an option, I'm really going to miss those mental mind break days I used to take every now and then just for fun ...
I met some of my neighbors tonight, and KC quick to make friends at her new school was overjoyed when we met one of her classmates while walking the roads trick or treating. And it was nice to know that after one day at her new school, my daughter has proven to be far more resilient in dealing with change then I ever have been in my entire life. This is a quality I hope to encourage in her as life really is about living in the moment and opening yourself up for the possibilities that change brings. Maybe I should take a lesson from her on this ... Change doesn't always have to be about rolling with the punches. Sometimes it's a light you need to follow to leave the darkness behind.
Or as George Michael was once known to say, "You've got to have faith-a-faith-a faith-a."
So much has happened this past month that it's hard to know where to start or even what I should, and of course, shouldn't say ...
But as you've all gathered by now, KC and I moved our entire household. And it was quite an experience. I am convinced that you never know just how much nonsense you own until you've had to sort and pack it all away into boxes. I've still all sorts of unpacking to do, and rearranging to do as well, but for now, this week, I'm keeping rather low key getting used to the hum of the fluorescent light in the kitchen and the sounds this house makes in the middle of the night.
There is some humor in this move however ... The house I'm in boasts one thing that no other place I've lived ever has. I'm now right next door to my boss. And even though car pooling is now an option, I'm really going to miss those mental mind break days I used to take every now and then just for fun ...
I met some of my neighbors tonight, and KC quick to make friends at her new school was overjoyed when we met one of her classmates while walking the roads trick or treating. And it was nice to know that after one day at her new school, my daughter has proven to be far more resilient in dealing with change then I ever have been in my entire life. This is a quality I hope to encourage in her as life really is about living in the moment and opening yourself up for the possibilities that change brings. Maybe I should take a lesson from her on this ... Change doesn't always have to be about rolling with the punches. Sometimes it's a light you need to follow to leave the darkness behind.
Or as George Michael was once known to say, "You've got to have faith-a-faith-a faith-a."
An Odd Sort of Emptiness
Maybe there is nothing left to say. I just don't know. All I know is that the words don't come easy anymore. Maybe because I've grown so out of practice with writing them on a regular basis, or maybe because I watch those words far closer than I should. Either way, it's as if my muse has left me and this a blank page.
My Last Night Home ...
Kiss today goodbye.
And point me towards tomorrow.
We did what we had to do ...
For nine years this house, my home, has served me well. I've laughed here. Cried here. Been my worst and my best here. But soon, like the rooms that already stand empty and waiting for someone else to arrive, I will be just another memory here, an echo sounding off of bare walls.
And these walls won't remember me. Soon they'll be decorated with someone else's things. And people I don't know will use my key to call this place home. And they will laugh here. And they will cry here. And they won't know how I spent my last night here. One part of me very happy to begin somewhere new, and the other half of me wanting to cling to what I know. The comfort that is home.
They won't know that I spent my last night sitting on the floor surrounded by candlelight. Or how I listened to my favorite Joni Mitchell song and didn't bother to wipe away my tears as they rolled down my cheeks. They won't know how red and swollen my eyes were, or the headache that resulted from all those tears. And they won't know that had I been able to find the aspirin packed away in some box, somewhere, my headache would have been gone long before I went to bed, to sleep one last time in this house that I've called home.
And they won't get sentimental over trees in the front yard. And they won't always begin their conversations with remember when ... And they'll start making their own memories from the very first time they walk in the front door. When they open the kitchen cabinets to put their dishes away. They'll barely spare us a thought. Perhaps one to remark about how clean the place was when I left, or perhaps comment on the morning glory vines that I'll leave growing wild on the back porch. Perhaps then, they will take a moment and remember that someone lived here before, and was honored to have called it home.
An Amazon Reminder ...
Just because I didn't forget that today is your special day ...
Happy Birthday.
Happy Birthday.
Would've, Could've, Should've
Yeah. I know ... Those really aren't words. But we've all said the same thing more or less at some point in our lives. And Lord knows, I was singing this phrase last night as I was driving home in the rain from the hospital. The hospital where one of my sisters should have been, but wasn't ...
And yet, no phone call. No quick call to me at work to say, "Don't go to the hospital after work, I'm not there ... It turned out to be a quick in and out and go back home procedure." No. Instead I hurried KC out to the car, stopped at my Dad's to pick up my other sister and drove all the way to where the hospital was only to realize ... I'd just wasted a quarter tank of gas.
And gas is STILL expensive!
Needless to say, I wasn't all that amused. And even less so when I realized that I could have gone to Terri's last night after work and socialized with some out of (and in) town friends that were up only for the day.
Instead my youngest sister and I spent the night chilling out and talking and watching some weird game show called Lingo where Sal (a contestant) gave new meaning to the word dumb luck. He was however extremely entertaining, and if we were to ever meet in real life, I'm sure we'd get along ... He did after all attempt to protest another player's move at one point in the show, which scored him mad points in my book. It didn't work of course, but it was funny.
TGIF!
And yet, no phone call. No quick call to me at work to say, "Don't go to the hospital after work, I'm not there ... It turned out to be a quick in and out and go back home procedure." No. Instead I hurried KC out to the car, stopped at my Dad's to pick up my other sister and drove all the way to where the hospital was only to realize ... I'd just wasted a quarter tank of gas.
And gas is STILL expensive!
Needless to say, I wasn't all that amused. And even less so when I realized that I could have gone to Terri's last night after work and socialized with some out of (and in) town friends that were up only for the day.
Instead my youngest sister and I spent the night chilling out and talking and watching some weird game show called Lingo where Sal (a contestant) gave new meaning to the word dumb luck. He was however extremely entertaining, and if we were to ever meet in real life, I'm sure we'd get along ... He did after all attempt to protest another player's move at one point in the show, which scored him mad points in my book. It didn't work of course, but it was funny.
TGIF!
The Good Old Days ...
If I were to write all of my weird dreams down, someday I'm sure I could sell the movie rights ...
Last night I sat around a table filled with high school friends and another group of people I had little - if nothing - to do with in high school (whenever it was humanly possible to avoid them) as we sat around a table staring at plates of really bad looking pizza and bowls full of fresh cut carrots, each one of us offering a little glimpse into what our lives had become.
I remember sitting across from Brian, and noting the fact that he didn't look a bit like he had changed until he began to talk, telling the story of how he and his boss had started an affair that his wife didn't know about. And the only thing I could think of to say was, "Anyone up for a smoke?"
And so we went out on the front porch which looked out onto Westwood Drive and I could see my old mustard colored house, and Bren's house as well and we all stood outside shivering with cigarettes dangling from our hands, waiting for someone else to say something that would make sense. But the silence was deafening.
Back inside, girls were clamboring for rights in the bathroom and the popular boys talked of football, their best games and the line of girls who had begged them to wear their jersey's. My crowd milled around the edges of the room, all looking a little older, a little more responsible, and a lot less like the kids I remembered.
All in all, the dream made no sense. It had no clear start, no clear ending and no message it sought to relay.
Last night I sat around a table filled with high school friends and another group of people I had little - if nothing - to do with in high school (whenever it was humanly possible to avoid them) as we sat around a table staring at plates of really bad looking pizza and bowls full of fresh cut carrots, each one of us offering a little glimpse into what our lives had become.
I remember sitting across from Brian, and noting the fact that he didn't look a bit like he had changed until he began to talk, telling the story of how he and his boss had started an affair that his wife didn't know about. And the only thing I could think of to say was, "Anyone up for a smoke?"
And so we went out on the front porch which looked out onto Westwood Drive and I could see my old mustard colored house, and Bren's house as well and we all stood outside shivering with cigarettes dangling from our hands, waiting for someone else to say something that would make sense. But the silence was deafening.
Back inside, girls were clamboring for rights in the bathroom and the popular boys talked of football, their best games and the line of girls who had begged them to wear their jersey's. My crowd milled around the edges of the room, all looking a little older, a little more responsible, and a lot less like the kids I remembered.
All in all, the dream made no sense. It had no clear start, no clear ending and no message it sought to relay.
Something Fishy
My body is in a world of hurt. My fish tank moved to the new house. My really bad idea of using plastic totes to transport water proven as a really bad idea. And my car ... Well, smelling slightly on the fishy side, though I am really hoping for a nice warm day tomorrow to air it out. But between you and me, I don't think it's going to happen. Like the geese, I believe all our warm and sunny days have headed South.
Filtering Out the Spam
I've been a very bad blogger ... Ignoring NWTLO has not been my intention, and yet it's been the reality.
Anyhoo ... In the off chance that I post something again worthy of comments, I'd like to apologize in advance for turning on the spamming content filter.
For a while, I thought I could just go in and delete the occasional spam myself, but after deleting over twenty of them yesterday on OLD posts - ancient posts, to tell you the truth - I decided that even a gracious host would have to require a little extra effort from her guests.
So Spam filter on and posts ... Well, let's hope those will be on again too.
Anyhoo ... In the off chance that I post something again worthy of comments, I'd like to apologize in advance for turning on the spamming content filter.
For a while, I thought I could just go in and delete the occasional spam myself, but after deleting over twenty of them yesterday on OLD posts - ancient posts, to tell you the truth - I decided that even a gracious host would have to require a little extra effort from her guests.
So Spam filter on and posts ... Well, let's hope those will be on again too.
The To Do List
The list keeps getting longer. And despite how much I've already moved, gotten rid of, or stored away, there is an endless supply of more just waiting for me to decide what - if anything - I should do with it.
On top of that, I've appointments and so much miscellaneous paperwork to fill out, and calls to make to almost everyone who is anyone in the phone book, that my brain is close to nervous breakdown mode.
Appointments however are on the top of the to do this week. At present time we've two for the minor child, one for the cat, and one long overdue one with my hairdresser. And I think, if I can find the time this week - maybe Thursday, if all the planets align just right - I can get myself in for a much needed haircut. Goodbye and good riddance Cousin It!
Until then my dreams are filled with professional movers ...
On top of that, I've appointments and so much miscellaneous paperwork to fill out, and calls to make to almost everyone who is anyone in the phone book, that my brain is close to nervous breakdown mode.
Appointments however are on the top of the to do this week. At present time we've two for the minor child, one for the cat, and one long overdue one with my hairdresser. And I think, if I can find the time this week - maybe Thursday, if all the planets align just right - I can get myself in for a much needed haircut. Goodbye and good riddance Cousin It!
Until then my dreams are filled with professional movers ...
House Inspections
My house is a mess and I just don't care ... And really, does it matter to me what the people who are doing the house inspections think of it when I'll be out of here within the month? Okay. So it does matter a bit to me but I've got to not let it. There's not enough time to get it all sparkly fresh so it has to be what it is. And what it is, is something that looks a lot like someone who is moving nine years worth of stuff. Really, the fact that this place is messy should be expected when considering all that ... Maybe I'll leave a note taped to the front door that reads,
"Please excuse the mess. I was too tired to care."
Oh well. I better get to starting my day before it starts without me.
"Please excuse the mess. I was too tired to care."
Oh well. I better get to starting my day before it starts without me.
A Mouth Full of Marbles
Your selfishness knows no bounds.
Words you say trip off your tongue to tangle with lies
and truths only told in halves.
Every other weekend you appear perfect.
The good Dad just up until the time she can be returned.
Then you are what you have always been,
someone who can leave his responsibilities behind.
Someone who can easily forget they exist.
Someone who points his fingers
and places blame on those who have done no wrong.
And I am amazed
at how much hurt you can spew from your venomous mouth.
And I am so angry
that I dare not trust myself to be in a room alone with you.
Or even on the other end of a phone.
For I would tell you what it seems you cannot figure out.
The barbs you think to send my way,
sting the child you say you love and would not harm.
Calling In the Calvary
My body feels like someone has trampled over it a thousand times and even though I always knew that they were there - though truth be told, I did have my doubts - my calf muscles are staging an early protest this morning against any and all movement. Like an army general with a riding crop in his hands barking orders, the sensory message from my legs is telling my brain to, "Sit on the damn couch girl and don't even think about moving!" And being that I'm not all that qualified to refute that command, I'm more than happy to oblige. Well, at least until I get hungry and need to commandeer something for breakfast or switch out the load of laundry from the washer to the dryer.
KC's room is on the agenda today. As in I'm going in and if no one hears from me in the next two days, someone really ought to send a search party. My girl is a bit of a walking disaster. Wherever she goes, a trail of destruction seems to be left in her path, all leading directly to her room of course. And if you could see her room, oh Lord, you'd cover your eyes and pretend you never saw it to begin with. Who says ignorance isn't bliss?
But for now, I'm content to quietly usher in the morning in relative peace and tranquility. Well, at least until the general in my head that's not attached to my legs decides to spout orders of her own. Then I'm toast ...
Perhaps what I really should be doing today is concentrating my efforts on calling in the Calvary. When one is about to move an entire household, it's time to start dialing the phone and calling in as many favors as you can from your family and your friends ...
KC's room is on the agenda today. As in I'm going in and if no one hears from me in the next two days, someone really ought to send a search party. My girl is a bit of a walking disaster. Wherever she goes, a trail of destruction seems to be left in her path, all leading directly to her room of course. And if you could see her room, oh Lord, you'd cover your eyes and pretend you never saw it to begin with. Who says ignorance isn't bliss?
But for now, I'm content to quietly usher in the morning in relative peace and tranquility. Well, at least until the general in my head that's not attached to my legs decides to spout orders of her own. Then I'm toast ...
Perhaps what I really should be doing today is concentrating my efforts on calling in the Calvary. When one is about to move an entire household, it's time to start dialing the phone and calling in as many favors as you can from your family and your friends ...
In the Checkout Line at the Grocery
"I don't want it."
"What do you mean you don't want it?"
"I don't want it as in put it back. Take it off the order. I'm leaving without it."
"You don't want any of it?"
"No," I said, giving the cashier an exasperated look.
"But it's on special."
"And according to the sign you have it's also buy one get one free and if you're telling me that the sign is incorrect and it's not buy one get one free, then I don't want either."
"So you're saying that you don't want them?"
"I believe I've been saying that for the last five minutes ..."
"What do you mean you don't want it?"
"I don't want it as in put it back. Take it off the order. I'm leaving without it."
"You don't want any of it?"
"No," I said, giving the cashier an exasperated look.
"But it's on special."
"And according to the sign you have it's also buy one get one free and if you're telling me that the sign is incorrect and it's not buy one get one free, then I don't want either."
"So you're saying that you don't want them?"
"I believe I've been saying that for the last five minutes ..."
Moving Towards Change
An Autumn storm howls on the wind this morning, bringing with it a cold September rain. And though I've said it a thousand times before, more than enough to know that all of you know without me saying it, this is my idea of the perfect day. The kind of day that involves a warm cup of cocoa, a soft fuzzy blanket, and a good book to get lost in.
Being that it's a Tuesday however, my day is more apt to involve a desk piled with work and the constant ringing of a phone in my ear and then a short ride home to collect my daughter from her day at school, time in the kitchen to prepare dinner, a little family time, and then back to work upstairs to my bedroom which has been pulled in a thousand different directions with the opening of yet another closet.
This one however is proving much easier. Instead of years of clothes and other assorted odds and ends, this one is packed full of books. Books that as of Friday will be up for sale at the garage sale Brenda and I are having. And though it will be difficult parting from a collection started more years ago than I can count, I have come to the conclusion that a book sitting dormant on a shelf in a closet has no purpose. Books are meant to be read and being that I have read all of them, at least once if not twice, it's time to let some of them go.
Packed already are four cases of books, not including the two cases of books already sitting in Brenda's basement waiting for Friday. And at the deep discount price of exactly one dollar a book, simple math says that if I were to sell all of them (as I hope to do) I will have more than two hundred dollars in my pocket by day's end. Although since I'm not exactly done going through the closet yet, that figure may go up just a bit more. (I really should have done this year's ago.)
By now some of you may be wondering what all this closet cleaning is for since most people are bitten by the cleaning bug in spring and not at the tail end of September. And the truth of the matter is, that after nine wonderful years of calling the place I live home, I'm getting ready to leave home.
And it's no wonder I've had no time to blog. What with so much on my mind, and so many things to do, there just hasn't been time to sit down and find the right words to say that everything I know is about to change.
Being that it's a Tuesday however, my day is more apt to involve a desk piled with work and the constant ringing of a phone in my ear and then a short ride home to collect my daughter from her day at school, time in the kitchen to prepare dinner, a little family time, and then back to work upstairs to my bedroom which has been pulled in a thousand different directions with the opening of yet another closet.
This one however is proving much easier. Instead of years of clothes and other assorted odds and ends, this one is packed full of books. Books that as of Friday will be up for sale at the garage sale Brenda and I are having. And though it will be difficult parting from a collection started more years ago than I can count, I have come to the conclusion that a book sitting dormant on a shelf in a closet has no purpose. Books are meant to be read and being that I have read all of them, at least once if not twice, it's time to let some of them go.
Packed already are four cases of books, not including the two cases of books already sitting in Brenda's basement waiting for Friday. And at the deep discount price of exactly one dollar a book, simple math says that if I were to sell all of them (as I hope to do) I will have more than two hundred dollars in my pocket by day's end. Although since I'm not exactly done going through the closet yet, that figure may go up just a bit more. (I really should have done this year's ago.)
By now some of you may be wondering what all this closet cleaning is for since most people are bitten by the cleaning bug in spring and not at the tail end of September. And the truth of the matter is, that after nine wonderful years of calling the place I live home, I'm getting ready to leave home.
And it's no wonder I've had no time to blog. What with so much on my mind, and so many things to do, there just hasn't been time to sit down and find the right words to say that everything I know is about to change.
Caught in the Crossfire
She should have caught the ball. Instead she caught it with her face. It was nothing more than an accident created by bad timing. A ball in motion just as her attention was focused on something else.
She held her hand to her cheek and absorbed the sting, ignoring all the voices around her. Sheila offered to go grab her an ice pack. Bob asked if she was okay. And poor KC, her small face flushed with guilt, was intent on grabbing onto any part of her Mother in her attempt to make amends.
But what she really wanted was for no one to make a fuss. For everyone to just back off and give her room. She didn't want to be touched. Or held. Or have to listen to any words of comfort. No. What she really wanted was just to sit there and feel the throbbing in her cheek, forcing her mind to focus on the sting and control the pain into submission. To detach herself from all of it. The feel of the ball's imprint on her face. And the conversation that had ended abruptly when she got hit.
She held her hand to her cheek and absorbed the sting, ignoring all the voices around her. Sheila offered to go grab her an ice pack. Bob asked if she was okay. And poor KC, her small face flushed with guilt, was intent on grabbing onto any part of her Mother in her attempt to make amends.
But what she really wanted was for no one to make a fuss. For everyone to just back off and give her room. She didn't want to be touched. Or held. Or have to listen to any words of comfort. No. What she really wanted was just to sit there and feel the throbbing in her cheek, forcing her mind to focus on the sting and control the pain into submission. To detach herself from all of it. The feel of the ball's imprint on her face. And the conversation that had ended abruptly when she got hit.
Cleaning Out My Closet: Part Two
So I was tempted last night to pull an Eminem joke with the whole cleaning out my closet thing, but somehow without the sound of me saying it, like I am at this very minute saying it again, my best guess is it would get lost in the translation and you wouldn't find it funny. It IS however funny ... So please, just to humor me this one little time (Though it should be said if you give in now, you'll probably give in again, and then I'll be doing more of this because I'll know you'll do these stupid things I'm bound to ask ...) say it with me.
Ready, set, go ...
(Sniffle)
That was beautiful. You are the best darn bloggers this side of the Hudson! I mean it! We'll do lunch ...
But for now, I'm off to do work ...
Ready, set, go ...
(Sniffle)
That was beautiful. You are the best darn bloggers this side of the Hudson! I mean it! We'll do lunch ...
But for now, I'm off to do work ...
Cleaning Out My Closet
I am sitting dead center in the middle of chaos, surrounded by ten years of I'm not even sure what all of this is or how it really got here. In the past two days alone, I've done six loads of laundry. Five of it from a closet I stopped opening years ago and for good reason. The reason of which I am now speaking.
And I am kicking myself for not having done this long ago. I mean seriously, how on earth did I manage to cram so much shit into one small closet anyway? I must have skills I didn't even know about ...
Although I suppose I do have a very checkered past with closets ... At least maybe my Mom would say so.
But enough stalling on my part. There's work to be done and it doesn't pay to hide out at your computer pretending it isn't there.
And I am kicking myself for not having done this long ago. I mean seriously, how on earth did I manage to cram so much shit into one small closet anyway? I must have skills I didn't even know about ...
Although I suppose I do have a very checkered past with closets ... At least maybe my Mom would say so.
But enough stalling on my part. There's work to be done and it doesn't pay to hide out at your computer pretending it isn't there.
Road Block for Writer's
If you're disappointed that there's nothing new to read ... Rest assured, this whole word embargo has me disappointed too.
Oh well ... Tomorrow is another day.
Oh well ... Tomorrow is another day.
Welcoming the Fall
There's silver frost on the grass this morning and outside it's unnaturally quiet, not even the birds sing from their perches in the trees. If summer has finally come to the conclusion that she can't keep fall at bay much longer, the cold itself will attest to that fact. This morning is the kind of morning where a warm, fuzzy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans seems more appropriate to wear than the business casual I'm currently sporting. And I think with some regret over the pair of sandals I threw out only yesterday, knowing that they were in no shape to continue on and the need for them had already expired.
Fall has come to stake it's claim. It's cold fingers reaching out over the land to touch the tops of trees to inspire a new bloom of color.
Fall has come to stake it's claim. It's cold fingers reaching out over the land to touch the tops of trees to inspire a new bloom of color.
Nocturnal Ramblings of the Seemingly Sane
It's hard to sleep when you're blogging and harder yet to blog when you want to go to sleep ... And yet (note the hour) I cannot fall asleep. I went upstairs and I tried. I really did. I snuggled up under the covers, listened to the cricket orchestra outside, adjusted my pillows to their perfect positions and laid there with my eyes wide open staring into the darkness, until the darkness started to move and I decided that lights were good things ... And then found myself coming back downstairs to pull my laptop out and take up residence on the couch where I currently still am. Just as uncomfortable as ever sitting on this horrid hand me down couch of mine.
I blame my brain on this night of wasted sleep. It just won't turn off. No. It wants to think and think and think. And I for one am wanting none of that. No. The only thing I want is the cold side of the pillow and sweet dreams to lull me to sleep until I gently awaken tomorrow morning ...
Not that I ever really gently awaken ... More or less some shrill device normally wakes me in form of alarm clock or screeching Mom doesn't need to sleep past seven on the weekend daughter.
But I suppose I need to give it one more try. My left eye has officially closed for business and my right eye is threatening to do the same. And pretty soon, if I think about it, I'm going to be doing really bad pirate impersonations to amuse myself while making jokes about peg legs. Not that I know any good jokes, but the things that come to my mind when I'm in this state of tired are usually of the oddest sort.
So I'm to bed ... Again.
Elvis has left the building.
I blame my brain on this night of wasted sleep. It just won't turn off. No. It wants to think and think and think. And I for one am wanting none of that. No. The only thing I want is the cold side of the pillow and sweet dreams to lull me to sleep until I gently awaken tomorrow morning ...
Not that I ever really gently awaken ... More or less some shrill device normally wakes me in form of alarm clock or screeching Mom doesn't need to sleep past seven on the weekend daughter.
But I suppose I need to give it one more try. My left eye has officially closed for business and my right eye is threatening to do the same. And pretty soon, if I think about it, I'm going to be doing really bad pirate impersonations to amuse myself while making jokes about peg legs. Not that I know any good jokes, but the things that come to my mind when I'm in this state of tired are usually of the oddest sort.
So I'm to bed ... Again.
Elvis has left the building.
With a Little Help From My Friends (And Family) ...
Acts of kindness need not be random. Even something as simple as a smile can brighten a day.
And kindness can be surprising when unexpected. Though a good surprise. Even though at times it may rob you of your speech. Or embarrass you for a moment until you realize that someone did something out of the goodness of their heart, lending a helping hand when it was needed most, though you never said a word, or had any expectations.
And as surely as I am typing this, I can say without any doubt that there are indeed earth bound angels. People who are just drawn to do good when they can. And in the giving, they give you a better gift than the gift itself. They give you hope, love and faith. Enough to keep a little for yourself, and plenty more to share with the rest of the world.
And kindness can be surprising when unexpected. Though a good surprise. Even though at times it may rob you of your speech. Or embarrass you for a moment until you realize that someone did something out of the goodness of their heart, lending a helping hand when it was needed most, though you never said a word, or had any expectations.
And as surely as I am typing this, I can say without any doubt that there are indeed earth bound angels. People who are just drawn to do good when they can. And in the giving, they give you a better gift than the gift itself. They give you hope, love and faith. Enough to keep a little for yourself, and plenty more to share with the rest of the world.
Monday Back to Work Blues
Sometimes it's funny. I'm sitting here waiting for the blogger post page to load so I can offer my last complaint about having to return to work this morning, and wham! I think of something funny to blog about when there is absolutely no time to write any of it down. Talk about dumb luck.
And considering my dumb luck has just run out, it's going to have to keep for another day. I must get myself together and to work and pretend I'm overjoyed to be back. A total lie. But at times one must manufacture such stories to themselves in order to get through a day.
Still, if I can conquer a Monday, I can do just about anything! Well, almost ...
And considering my dumb luck has just run out, it's going to have to keep for another day. I must get myself together and to work and pretend I'm overjoyed to be back. A total lie. But at times one must manufacture such stories to themselves in order to get through a day.
Still, if I can conquer a Monday, I can do just about anything! Well, almost ...
Vacations End
It's amazing how nine days of freedom can pass so quickly, almost in a blur, as my vacation is officially coming to its end. And it's a bit sad really, though my purse couldn't have afforded any more days of freedom, what with little trips here and there to amuse my daughter and myself and our need to shop for the upcoming school year.
But we did far more than just shopping. We toured local historical sites, visited a petting zoo where both my daughter and I had thoughts of pilfering a pygmy goat kid and making off with it into the sunset, and of course our unforgettable trip to the movies to see the March of the Penguins. A really interesting movie being that I've always been a penguin fan, but more so for the mating scene complete with romantic type orchestral music, and the sound of my nine year old giggling as she said, "That is just so wrong."
We went for picnics, took walks along the harbor, talked about silly things, talked about not so silly things and just enjoyed being able to spend time together without constraints of work or school. And to be honest, I'm more than a little sad to have to give all that up to return to life as normal. In a perfect world, vacations would be much more frequent then they are ...
But we did far more than just shopping. We toured local historical sites, visited a petting zoo where both my daughter and I had thoughts of pilfering a pygmy goat kid and making off with it into the sunset, and of course our unforgettable trip to the movies to see the March of the Penguins. A really interesting movie being that I've always been a penguin fan, but more so for the mating scene complete with romantic type orchestral music, and the sound of my nine year old giggling as she said, "That is just so wrong."
We went for picnics, took walks along the harbor, talked about silly things, talked about not so silly things and just enjoyed being able to spend time together without constraints of work or school. And to be honest, I'm more than a little sad to have to give all that up to return to life as normal. In a perfect world, vacations would be much more frequent then they are ...
Learning Our A, B and C's
The thing about silence is that sometimes you never know what really caused it. To some the act of going mute is more like a disappearing act, vanishing into time itself as it passes one day into the next. To others, silence becomes a response. Silence for silence. An even exchange. Eye for an eye logic. Because "A" never called to talk to "B","B" has decided not to talk to "A" ... That's how silence works.
Because when you're silent, it's not always that you have nothing to say. It's the exact opposite. The reality is having so much to say that you don't even know where to begin, and so you don't. Because you know two things ...
So "B" has decided to get out of the house for a little while today and meet up with "C" because it's nice to know, that there are exactly 25 other letters to choose from.
Because when you're silent, it's not always that you have nothing to say. It's the exact opposite. The reality is having so much to say that you don't even know where to begin, and so you don't. Because you know two things ...
(1) If you were important to "A" then "A" wouldn't have let almost an entire week pass without some sort of conversation ...
and
(2) Chasing anyone down to gain their attention isn't something that "B" is willing to do anymore.
So "B" has decided to get out of the house for a little while today and meet up with "C" because it's nice to know, that there are exactly 25 other letters to choose from.
Something More Than Wonderful
I'm way too tired to write anything that would do last night's concert any justice, when really there is just SO much to tell ... I will however say that our seats were phenomenal. Dead center. Third row from the stage. Wonderful. And I swear, Tori looked right at me and smiled ... Most likely in response to the goofy look I must have had on my face. I mean WOW! She sang almost ALL of my most favorite songs and ended with my most favorite of all ... Hey Jupiter.
Anyhoo ... I'm in need of a nap, while poor Brenda, M&M and KM are all working themselves silly on very little sleep ... Sorry guys! If it helps, KC and I spent most of the day at the mall shopping ... Or at least thinking about shopping.
But last night was the absolute TOPS! Before, during and after the concert ...
08/23/05
Saratoga Springs, NY
Saratoga Performing Arts Center
Set List (While I love all of her music, there are some I love more than others.)
Original Sinsuality
Little Amsterdam
Icicle
Goodbye Pisces
China (I sing this one in the shower ALL of the time.)
Spark
Siren (Driving in the car, this is always a good one to have cranked to full volume.)
And Dream of Sheep (Cover song #1. Does anyone know who the original artist is or was?)
Moonshadow (Cover song #2.)
Mother
Sugar
Jamaica Inn
Strange (This is one of the songs I really wanted to hear at the last concert I attended.)
The Beekeeper
Bells For Her
Putting the Damage On
Apollo's Frock
Hey Jupiter (Dakota Version) (My ALL time most FAVORITE Tori song ... Ever.)
The Road to SPAC
Sometimes the most wonderful thing you can say to someone is thank you. You don't have to list your reasons, you don't have to explain all the who, what, where and why's. You simply have got to say it from the heart and mean it. And so I'm saying thanks from the comfort of my living room, by putting my writing on this wall, because there's a good chance in a crowd of a thousand voices strong, that my gratitude may not be heard.
But it's there. And it's here. And it reaches its own arms out to embrace the world in its own small way. One thought at a time, one word at a time.
That being said, I believe there's a concert that I need to get myself together for. But please, don't wait up for me ... I have a feeling I won't be home until tomorrow's light.
But it's there. And it's here. And it reaches its own arms out to embrace the world in its own small way. One thought at a time, one word at a time.
That being said, I believe there's a concert that I need to get myself together for. But please, don't wait up for me ... I have a feeling I won't be home until tomorrow's light.
Fictionally Speaking
Clever girls aren't known for their looks. Maybe they have a nice smile, or relatively good hair, but the moment they're gone from view, they aren't anything more than forgotten.
The truth of the matter is that beauty and the lack thereof speaks volumes and it gives us something to blame when things go wrong. Others might call this a case of insecurities. The blaming of happenstance for all the little things that go in a direction completely of their own. I'm more apt to call it an ugly girl's reality.
And the reality is that everything is out of reach.
Sure, you can try to be good. Always doing and saying the right things, at the right time, to the right people. But eventually good girl logic gives in and says, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe I should call it quits. I didn't really want what I said I really wanted anyway."
An ugly girl will lie to herself twenty times a day if need be. Building up her ladder rung by rung, only to decide at the very end of the day that her courage to climb has all but vanished. And who could blame the girl for being more cautious in her climbing when she herself is afraid of heights?
To most people this sort of logic
wouldn't seem to make sense, unless they really understood that sometimes being on the not so pretty side of life, is more like being the little matchstick girl pressing her face against cold glass to watch the warmth and merriment within, all the while wishing that somehow, she too could come in from the cold.
The truth of the matter is that beauty and the lack thereof speaks volumes and it gives us something to blame when things go wrong. Others might call this a case of insecurities. The blaming of happenstance for all the little things that go in a direction completely of their own. I'm more apt to call it an ugly girl's reality.
And the reality is that everything is out of reach.
Sure, you can try to be good. Always doing and saying the right things, at the right time, to the right people. But eventually good girl logic gives in and says, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe I should call it quits. I didn't really want what I said I really wanted anyway."
An ugly girl will lie to herself twenty times a day if need be. Building up her ladder rung by rung, only to decide at the very end of the day that her courage to climb has all but vanished. And who could blame the girl for being more cautious in her climbing when she herself is afraid of heights?
To most people this sort of logic
wouldn't seem to make sense, unless they really understood that sometimes being on the not so pretty side of life, is more like being the little matchstick girl pressing her face against cold glass to watch the warmth and merriment within, all the while wishing that somehow, she too could come in from the cold.
Spit Spot
For once I'm thankful for overcast skies and the chill breeze that's blowing lightly through the trees. I slept in this morning, waking up at 10:18 precisely and thought for one moment to myself how comfortable my bed was, and then mentally ran down my somewhat lengthy list of things to do as my bare feet made contact with the rug.
But now I've come downstairs to survey the mess before me, school supplies that need to be put away, laundry that needs to be done, cats to be fed, and a daughter that needs to help with some of the smaller chores just as soon as I get our breakfast under way.
I hate waking up to the thought of chores, but the simple truth of the matter is they need to be done in order to enjoy the rest of the day, and for us, the rest of the week actually ... And so I really should set myself in motion.
Other than the Tori concert on Tuesday, KC and I are planning on making no plans but just sort of winging it every day this week so things should be interesting ... Sometimes it's far better to go with the flow than bog yourself down with the making of plans. Regardless, I think I'll load my camera up with film and see what images might come forth.
But now I've come downstairs to survey the mess before me, school supplies that need to be put away, laundry that needs to be done, cats to be fed, and a daughter that needs to help with some of the smaller chores just as soon as I get our breakfast under way.
I hate waking up to the thought of chores, but the simple truth of the matter is they need to be done in order to enjoy the rest of the day, and for us, the rest of the week actually ... And so I really should set myself in motion.
Other than the Tori concert on Tuesday, KC and I are planning on making no plans but just sort of winging it every day this week so things should be interesting ... Sometimes it's far better to go with the flow than bog yourself down with the making of plans. Regardless, I think I'll load my camera up with film and see what images might come forth.
At the Present Time ...
Preparing to go on vacation, even if you're not really going anywhere other than your own home and a few random day trips here and there, can be mighty stressing. Stressing because being out of the office for an entire week means that everything in your office has to be in tip top shape. Nothing can be out of order. Nothing can be left in a to do pile. Everything has got to be neat, organized and done. And really, it's the only way you'll be able to enjoy your vacation ... With no worries.
Worrisome however is my nephew who took a nasty spill off his skateboard two days ago and is still in the hospital awaiting a verdict on what actually may be wrong with him. If the latest rumor proves true, then the poor kid will be having surgery tomorrow on his leg ... Guess I need to make a few phone calls and find out the facts, though judging by his spirits today (I made a quick visit to the hospital during my lunch hour) he seems to be fine, other than the normal complaints of bad hospital food and sleep that is constantly disturbed.
In other news, the Tori Amos concert is less than a week away and I am giddy with excitement, or at least I would be if I weren't so damn tired. These damn dreams that insist on playing out every night in my head are really starting to get on my nerves, as I wake up more tired than I was when I went to bed. Argh.
Anyhoo, I just wanted to pen something quick to see if I could remember how to blog as I've been doing quite horrid lately. Must be these summer hours that are keeping me busy and on the go ...
Worrisome however is my nephew who took a nasty spill off his skateboard two days ago and is still in the hospital awaiting a verdict on what actually may be wrong with him. If the latest rumor proves true, then the poor kid will be having surgery tomorrow on his leg ... Guess I need to make a few phone calls and find out the facts, though judging by his spirits today (I made a quick visit to the hospital during my lunch hour) he seems to be fine, other than the normal complaints of bad hospital food and sleep that is constantly disturbed.
In other news, the Tori Amos concert is less than a week away and I am giddy with excitement, or at least I would be if I weren't so damn tired. These damn dreams that insist on playing out every night in my head are really starting to get on my nerves, as I wake up more tired than I was when I went to bed. Argh.
Anyhoo, I just wanted to pen something quick to see if I could remember how to blog as I've been doing quite horrid lately. Must be these summer hours that are keeping me busy and on the go ...
Following a Cloud of Thoughts
When she was young, the world was only as big as the sky above her. And on top of the old red dog house, she'd count the stars at night and think to herself that clouds were made up of all the souls that went to heaven. And it made her feel better to think of her grandfather as a cloud, floating high above with a watchful and loving eye.
She always hoped she'd make him proud, the grandfather that existed in her mind who became perfection, because he wasn't there to prove her wrong. His death in the youngest years of her life had immortalized him, not as an ordinary man but as a combination of all things wonderful. And so she strove to please his memory.
She learned at her grandmother's knee the old ways of doing things, spending most every weekend at her Nani's when she should have been next door at her father's. And Nani spoiled her rotten, not with gifts but with stories told over bowls of soup heaping with tubettini topped with Romano cheese. And at night they would watch TV together, sometimes staying up late enough to watch Johnny Carson before going to bed where she would cuddle up close to her grandmother's side, comforted by the sound of her snores and the wall behind her.
And in the morning, they would watch the Catholic mass on TV, since it was too hard for Grandma to go in person. And after mass, they'd watch WWF Wrestling because Grandma had a soft spot for Hulk Hogan and couldn't stand the little man with the microphone that always seemed to be jumping around with "ants in his pants" as Grandma would say.
I remember well the glint in her eye when she would watch, and the sly smile that would sometimes set on her face when no one was looking. And I remember thinking how lucky I was, because I was the only person who really knew that Grandma wasn't as old as everyone else thought she was. No. I remember thinking that she was just like me, full of mischief that no one ever really knew about.
She always hoped she'd make him proud, the grandfather that existed in her mind who became perfection, because he wasn't there to prove her wrong. His death in the youngest years of her life had immortalized him, not as an ordinary man but as a combination of all things wonderful. And so she strove to please his memory.
She learned at her grandmother's knee the old ways of doing things, spending most every weekend at her Nani's when she should have been next door at her father's. And Nani spoiled her rotten, not with gifts but with stories told over bowls of soup heaping with tubettini topped with Romano cheese. And at night they would watch TV together, sometimes staying up late enough to watch Johnny Carson before going to bed where she would cuddle up close to her grandmother's side, comforted by the sound of her snores and the wall behind her.
And in the morning, they would watch the Catholic mass on TV, since it was too hard for Grandma to go in person. And after mass, they'd watch WWF Wrestling because Grandma had a soft spot for Hulk Hogan and couldn't stand the little man with the microphone that always seemed to be jumping around with "ants in his pants" as Grandma would say.
I remember well the glint in her eye when she would watch, and the sly smile that would sometimes set on her face when no one was looking. And I remember thinking how lucky I was, because I was the only person who really knew that Grandma wasn't as old as everyone else thought she was. No. I remember thinking that she was just like me, full of mischief that no one ever really knew about.
A Sudden Wildness
I have been calm. As calm as an ocean wave on a silent sea rocking to and fro with the gentleness of a baby held in her mother's arms. I have been still, cautiously moving with eyes that track my progress in every direction, taking small steps, not daring to live too loud. I have sought silence and been content to follow my routine, one slow day into the next. And it has been enough, this quiet existence.
But now an odd restlessness sits outside my door waiting to be answered. And it will not be silenced in its attempt to draw me back and blur the lines I thought never to cross again. Instead the 19 year old version of myself smiles wickedly and speaks to me in tones hard to ignore, a sinner to her own seducing with memories of a wildness that are boiling just beneath my skin.
But now an odd restlessness sits outside my door waiting to be answered. And it will not be silenced in its attempt to draw me back and blur the lines I thought never to cross again. Instead the 19 year old version of myself smiles wickedly and speaks to me in tones hard to ignore, a sinner to her own seducing with memories of a wildness that are boiling just beneath my skin.
A Season of Hay
Haying season in August always brings back memories of the farm and a family that I grew up loving as if they were my own ... And not just because I was in love with their eldest son from the time I put on my first training bra until I graduated my way into a C Cup. They were the kind of people who drew you in until you felt very much like one of their own. The kind of people who lent a helping hand when it was needed and let you call their house a home away from home.
I grew up a country girl, playing hide and seek in hay mounts, swinging from ropes that hung down from the ceiling and learned quickly where to step, when to step and where not to step and what to listen and look for as I was stepping. Raised tails were not to be taken lightly.
I played with barn yard kittens, fell in love with every calf, and helped with whatever I could, whenever I could, just for the simple joy of spending as much time there as possible. I loved taking rides in the tractor, chasing errant cows down when they refused to come in from pasture, and climbing into the hay wagon as we bumped and jolted our way down a rutty country road in search of a hay strewn field.
The eldest son - who at my tender age of twelve was the love of my life, though he was five years my junior - would already be out in the field waiting for his younger brother and I to bring the empty wagon to trade out with the full. And though he wasn't the most patient of boys, what with the way he would boss around his little brother and roll his eyes at my doe eyed antics, I was sure that he loved me too ... Why else would he have offered me a piece of Wrigley's Spearmint gum if not to say he cared?
After the sharing of such a meaningful piece of gum, Little Case (whom on last inspection was well over six feet tall) and I would ride back to the farm, him driving happily away with a sweet smile on his face and me usually playing co-pilot from my perch on the fender, staring wistfully after his brother. Ah parting, it was such sweet sorrow ...
But back at the farm, we were all business, young Casey backing the wagon up just a few feet away from the conveyor belt. And when the belt started groaning, the chains sounded like a stick on a snare drum beating increasingly faster as gravity was put to the test. Grabbing a bale at a time, Casey and I worked out a silent pattern of taking opposite turns of tossing. Sometimes he'd be high on the load tossing the bales down while I pitched them onto the belt, and when my arms ached from the exertion, I'd switch out and push the bales down to land at his feet for him to toss.
For those of you who have never lived on a farm, or grew up near one, there is a quick lesson you learn about throwing bales ... One being that bales that don't land quite right on the conveyor belt have an extremely bad habit of coming back down when you least expect them to, and mostly on top of your own head if you're not paying attention. So every throw was like taking a money shot, get it wrong and the price to pay could be anywhere from losing three bales over the side, taking a full body shot of bale or getting one wedged up high in the door that opened up into the mount, at which point the whole process would have to stop to shut everything down and someone - though usually never me - would have to scale the conveyor to unplug the impediment.
And haying was always a hot process. Smart girls and boys knew better than to wear shorts, and short sleeved tops when doing their time in the wagons. And for those doubting Thomases who thought they knew better and came dressed for a day at the beach, they soon found out that hay was neither soft nor kind to tender skin left exposed. Instead they found out the meaning of hay rash, and heat rash, and previously smooth skin left pink and irritated with little dots all over.
But I loved it. Loved every little minute of it. Loved the thrill of being outside, being with my friends, and the two dollars I got a wagon for helping. To me, it was a slice of heaven.
Sadly, as the way things often go for small family based farms in America, there just wasn't enough time, money and people to keep the operation out of the red. The family farm that I grew up loving has long been left abandoned, it's out buildings falling down and the house unnaturally empty with its front door swinging wide open whenever an errant breeze happens to chance its way, while a single rope hanging from the haymount still, beckons the memory to recall what once was inside ...
There is no road to happiness ... Just the road.
When a woman speaks her mind it's because she's asking you to listen. To hear what she has to say, because she thinks it's important enough to be said.
And women have so much to say that sometimes they say nothing at all. They pack up words and pile them on their shoulders, carrying them around all day like an extra load of burden that only they can carry, just to prove that they can.
Far away friends have told me the importance of letting it all go ... To live life more as a comedy than tragedy. To give only what I can give, without losing the essentialness of myself and those things that make me happy.
I just wanted to let them know that I'm listening ...
And women have so much to say that sometimes they say nothing at all. They pack up words and pile them on their shoulders, carrying them around all day like an extra load of burden that only they can carry, just to prove that they can.
Far away friends have told me the importance of letting it all go ... To live life more as a comedy than tragedy. To give only what I can give, without losing the essentialness of myself and those things that make me happy.
I just wanted to let them know that I'm listening ...
Don't Let It Bug You ...
When you have a bad day, there's one important thing you should always remember ... You could have been born a bug.
And as we all know, bugs don't exactly have the longest life spans. Some meet their ends - quite literally - on the front of our windshields, or are splattered like broken yolks with one swat of a fly swatter. Others meet their ends by falling victim to a great white light, or finding themselves stuck in a hanging strip of glue. While some actually go the natural way and are gobbled up by spiders or even hungrier birds ... No matter how they go, the truth is this, when it comes to being low man on the food chain, bugs have got it bad ...
So when life seems hectic, crazy and full of stress, and all you want to do is pull every last strand of hair out of your head and cry, just remember this one thing ...
You could have been born a bug ...
And as we all know, bugs don't exactly have the longest life spans. Some meet their ends - quite literally - on the front of our windshields, or are splattered like broken yolks with one swat of a fly swatter. Others meet their ends by falling victim to a great white light, or finding themselves stuck in a hanging strip of glue. While some actually go the natural way and are gobbled up by spiders or even hungrier birds ... No matter how they go, the truth is this, when it comes to being low man on the food chain, bugs have got it bad ...
So when life seems hectic, crazy and full of stress, and all you want to do is pull every last strand of hair out of your head and cry, just remember this one thing ...
You could have been born a bug ...
Liquid Dreams
Even from the smallest fissure, an ocean can grow. And so it was in my dreams last night, the feeling of standing waist deep in water as its level began to rise and the cracks in the plaster seemed to expand beyond the measure of my hand and a tide that refused to be held back.
But I stood there in my dream with hands pressed hard against the wall, willing the flow to stop as pieces of my life went floating by. Dusty picture frames, thousands of pages in sinking books, and two black cats sitting high on a shelf in their traveling baskets, unaware of the danger below.
And I remember thinking to myself that I had to leave them in order to save myself. And I began wading my way through the gallons of water, half standing, half swimming, brushing the water from my eyes and willing my hair from my face.
But when I reached the door I couldn't go through it. Couldn't leave the kittens there alone to defend themselves. And so I turned around, swimming back through deep black waters and found the girls still sitting high on their shelf and with one hand, reached up into the muggy stillness of the air and brought them down to me.
Floating with one hand wrapped protectively around them and the other paddling as fast as one hand could, we swam our way into the emptiness of the ocean and watched as our house gave one last groan and sank beneath the discordant waves.
But I stood there in my dream with hands pressed hard against the wall, willing the flow to stop as pieces of my life went floating by. Dusty picture frames, thousands of pages in sinking books, and two black cats sitting high on a shelf in their traveling baskets, unaware of the danger below.
And I remember thinking to myself that I had to leave them in order to save myself. And I began wading my way through the gallons of water, half standing, half swimming, brushing the water from my eyes and willing my hair from my face.
But when I reached the door I couldn't go through it. Couldn't leave the kittens there alone to defend themselves. And so I turned around, swimming back through deep black waters and found the girls still sitting high on their shelf and with one hand, reached up into the muggy stillness of the air and brought them down to me.
Floating with one hand wrapped protectively around them and the other paddling as fast as one hand could, we swam our way into the emptiness of the ocean and watched as our house gave one last groan and sank beneath the discordant waves.
Ban on Blogging
I was just about to blog about the wonderful time I had tonight, but Brenda has just emailed me to tell me to get the hell off the computer ... So I suppose, if all of you out there can wait a little bit longer, I'll share with you tomorrow.
I promise.
I promise.
Front to Back
The more I read them, the more I am convinced that magazines made for women aren't really made for them at all. I mean what woman in her right mind wants to be told in no uncertain terms that beauty can only be obtainable with the right foundation, the perfect shade of lipstick and the right clothes on the right sized body?
It's all ridiculous. Magazines like Cosmo that fill their pages with shortsighted articles meant to convince the women - ages 16 to 25 - of the world that what they really need to do is change everything they possibly can about themselves in order to live the ideal Sex in the City life, as it it were part of some coming of age manifest destiny.
When I was seventeen, Cosmo was my bible. In its pages, it told me everything I needed to do to attract the right sort of attention from the right sort of guy and then how to keep him interested once he'd been snagged. But what it didn't bother to tell me, or any of its readers for that matter, was that their recycled advice of manipulation, deceit and lies was no way to maintain, let alone start a healthy relationship with anyone.
Instead they wrote article after article of how best to please your man and become a mind reader all at the same time just by observing the shape of his lips. And we bought it up. Hook, line and sinker as we asked for more Kama Sutra, more boys behaving badly, and more stories telling us how girls just like us managed to achieve all their hopes and dreams simply by turning to page 147 to read the conclusion of the story started on page 92.
Ahhh ... Happily ever after.
But now that I'm thirty, I want a magazine that caters to me and not the ideal I should strive to be. I want a magazine that has more relevant articles than advertisements. One that gives sound advice without sounding like a bathroom discussion in-between class bells. One that tells me how best to make myself happy rather than how to please my lover beneath the sheets. One that is reliable, newsworthy, informative and (drum roll please) entertaining all at the same time.
It's all ridiculous. Magazines like Cosmo that fill their pages with shortsighted articles meant to convince the women - ages 16 to 25 - of the world that what they really need to do is change everything they possibly can about themselves in order to live the ideal Sex in the City life, as it it were part of some coming of age manifest destiny.
When I was seventeen, Cosmo was my bible. In its pages, it told me everything I needed to do to attract the right sort of attention from the right sort of guy and then how to keep him interested once he'd been snagged. But what it didn't bother to tell me, or any of its readers for that matter, was that their recycled advice of manipulation, deceit and lies was no way to maintain, let alone start a healthy relationship with anyone.
Instead they wrote article after article of how best to please your man and become a mind reader all at the same time just by observing the shape of his lips. And we bought it up. Hook, line and sinker as we asked for more Kama Sutra, more boys behaving badly, and more stories telling us how girls just like us managed to achieve all their hopes and dreams simply by turning to page 147 to read the conclusion of the story started on page 92.
Ahhh ... Happily ever after.
But now that I'm thirty, I want a magazine that caters to me and not the ideal I should strive to be. I want a magazine that has more relevant articles than advertisements. One that gives sound advice without sounding like a bathroom discussion in-between class bells. One that tells me how best to make myself happy rather than how to please my lover beneath the sheets. One that is reliable, newsworthy, informative and (drum roll please) entertaining all at the same time.
The Smell of Plastic Burning
If inhaling melting plastic can make you high, then consider me on cloud nine ...
Once again my prowess in the kitchen has been put to the test causing me to fail miserably. It seems in my eagerness to cook a little something something, I failed to notice that I had not taken out every little pot, pan, and lid that I keep stored in the oven when it's safely off.
Therefore, I have learned two things today.
1. Do not store plastic anything in the oven less you should forget its there.
and
2. Melting plastic really, really stinks and makes your eyes water something fierce.
Needless to say, I think dinner is going to be running a bit behind tonight ... Guess it's a good thing I'm eating alone.
Once again my prowess in the kitchen has been put to the test causing me to fail miserably. It seems in my eagerness to cook a little something something, I failed to notice that I had not taken out every little pot, pan, and lid that I keep stored in the oven when it's safely off.
Therefore, I have learned two things today.
1. Do not store plastic anything in the oven less you should forget its there.
and
2. Melting plastic really, really stinks and makes your eyes water something fierce.
Needless to say, I think dinner is going to be running a bit behind tonight ... Guess it's a good thing I'm eating alone.
Dissolution
She tried leaving the house unnoticed, slipping away in the dark of night praying that the amber moon wouldn't catch her in its shadow. All she wanted to do was get away without having to answer any questions, questions her pride wouldn't let her answer with the truth. She unlocked the door to her car silently, sliding in behind the wheel, and was about to turn the key in the ignition when his voice startled her.
She didn't expect him to be standing so close and for a moment their eyes locked. And everything was there for him to see. The trail of tears fresh upon her face, the anger, disappointment, fear, sadness ... All there. And it was too much. Too much for him to see and too much for her to share.
She averted her eyes.
"Are you all right?" he asked her softly, stepping closer to her car. But she simply shook her head yes and kept quiet the screaming no's inside.
"Everything's fine." She said.
But it wasn't really. And she was glad her daughter hadn't been home to see the latest mess she'd made.
She could tell he wasn't buying a word she'd said by the look on his face. And given another minute, she wondered if he'd be offering his shoulder to cry on. Not that she'd take it though, her tears were very solitary things.
She just wanted out of the driveway. Out of the spotlight of his attention and the conversation that would surely take place once she was gone. And she knew the neighbors would talk, just as they would try to figure out exactly what was going on. And she didn't want to be anywhere near that conversation when it took place. Imagining it was quite enough.
She turned the key in the ignition and listened as the engine purred to life, watching as he took a step back away from the car, his eyes searching her face once more as he thought hard of something to say.
"Have a good night," he said with some pause, thinking perhaps this wasn't the right thing to say. But she understood his meaning well, and gave him a half hearted smile as she put the car in drive, and cried herself down the road.
She didn't expect him to be standing so close and for a moment their eyes locked. And everything was there for him to see. The trail of tears fresh upon her face, the anger, disappointment, fear, sadness ... All there. And it was too much. Too much for him to see and too much for her to share.
She averted her eyes.
"Are you all right?" he asked her softly, stepping closer to her car. But she simply shook her head yes and kept quiet the screaming no's inside.
"Everything's fine." She said.
But it wasn't really. And she was glad her daughter hadn't been home to see the latest mess she'd made.
She could tell he wasn't buying a word she'd said by the look on his face. And given another minute, she wondered if he'd be offering his shoulder to cry on. Not that she'd take it though, her tears were very solitary things.
She just wanted out of the driveway. Out of the spotlight of his attention and the conversation that would surely take place once she was gone. And she knew the neighbors would talk, just as they would try to figure out exactly what was going on. And she didn't want to be anywhere near that conversation when it took place. Imagining it was quite enough.
She turned the key in the ignition and listened as the engine purred to life, watching as he took a step back away from the car, his eyes searching her face once more as he thought hard of something to say.
"Have a good night," he said with some pause, thinking perhaps this wasn't the right thing to say. But she understood his meaning well, and gave him a half hearted smile as she put the car in drive, and cried herself down the road.
Singing Down the Night
I've got my headphones on listening to Tori Amos, and it should come as no surprise that I can't think of a thing to write. Not really a mind blowing concept since singing along to the lyrics doesn't exactly inspire me to think for myself ...
At the moment, one of my favorites (and the only one from this CD that might actually get airplay on regular radio, Sleeps With Butterflies) is playing and of course, I've just got to sing.
The fact that my front door is standing wide open and both my living room windows are presently up doesn't bother me a bit. My neighbors have heard and seen much worse to let a little singing after ten even begin to bother them. In fact, they're quite used to hearing odd fragments of this and that at odd hours of the day. I won't however go out on a limb and say they always enjoy it ...
Listening to music is actually a great way to wind down the night. To find that inner sanctum where all you have to do is sit back, relax and let the music take over. No thinking required, unless you want to that is. And at the moment, I don't want to. Mental time outs are more my thing lately.
At the moment, one of my favorites (and the only one from this CD that might actually get airplay on regular radio, Sleeps With Butterflies) is playing and of course, I've just got to sing.
You say the word
you know I will find you
Or if you need some time
I don’t mind
I don’t hold on
to the tail of your kite
I’m not like the girls that you’ve known
But I believe I’m worth coming home to
Kiss away night
This girl only sleeps with Butterflies
with Butterflies
so go on and fly then
boy
The fact that my front door is standing wide open and both my living room windows are presently up doesn't bother me a bit. My neighbors have heard and seen much worse to let a little singing after ten even begin to bother them. In fact, they're quite used to hearing odd fragments of this and that at odd hours of the day. I won't however go out on a limb and say they always enjoy it ...
with the gales
my little boat was tossed
how was I to know
that you’d sent her
with a lantern
to bring me in
“Are you positive this is a friend?”
the captain grimaced,
“Those are cliffs of rock ahead
if I’m not mistaken.”
Listening to music is actually a great way to wind down the night. To find that inner sanctum where all you have to do is sit back, relax and let the music take over. No thinking required, unless you want to that is. And at the moment, I don't want to. Mental time outs are more my thing lately.
Lately you’ve been on my mind
You showed me the rope
ropes to climb
over mountains
and to pull myself
out of a landslide
of a landslide
In Is Out
My neighbor says she can tell whether or not I'm in for the night by the way I park my truck in the driveway. And according to her reasoning, I should be leaving anytime now as I'm parked facing in rather than out. Needless to say, it's little unnerving observations like these that make me want to switch things up a bit just to keep everyone guessing. Because really, who wants to be that predictable? Notice me not raising my hand in an affirmative yes for that question ...
However, if anyone predicted that I would have my nose stuck in a book today, you would have guessed correctly. Having already finished one book this morning from Friday nights Barnes and Nobles shopping trip, I am now waist deep in the middle of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Page 349 to be exact. And yes, I do plan on having it finished before bedtime tonight.
Which is why I can't be blogging much longer if I plan on getting to bed at some more reasonable hour than the one I think I will actually be getting to bed at ... Because as far as my predictability goes, I have a horrible habit of shutting the alarm clock off rather than getting out of bed to make it to work on time.
However, if anyone predicted that I would have my nose stuck in a book today, you would have guessed correctly. Having already finished one book this morning from Friday nights Barnes and Nobles shopping trip, I am now waist deep in the middle of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Page 349 to be exact. And yes, I do plan on having it finished before bedtime tonight.
Which is why I can't be blogging much longer if I plan on getting to bed at some more reasonable hour than the one I think I will actually be getting to bed at ... Because as far as my predictability goes, I have a horrible habit of shutting the alarm clock off rather than getting out of bed to make it to work on time.
My Night Out With Harry
Some people will do anything to put on a costume. And I've learned that Harry Potter fans are no different when it comes to donning the frocks, the wigs, the glasses and the lightning bolts when in search of a good time.
The whole experience was like an after party that came before the big moment. The store packed full with people just waiting for the stroke of midnight and then that final minute that came afterwards while the registers switched over to a new day's business and children and adults alike counted down to the big moment ...
10, 9, 8 ... Went the count, the excitement building in the room. But I was too busy laughing to bother with the counting. Telling my sister Jo, who went with me to this auspicious occasion, that there was no way in hell I was counting down like a march hare to mating season. Nope. I wasn't going to do it.
And when the crowd hit zero, there were screams of delight and sounds of joy as people clapped and chanted Harry, Harry, Harry ... I'm telling you, it was very cult like. (Maybe the Pope had something with that little theory of his ... Kidding.) Being the smart ass that I am, I decided a little delayed reaction screaming on my part was in order and I did a little woo hoo a full minute after everyone else was done just to keep the spirit alive.
What can I say, I like being the center of attention? Kind of like a tension breaker. It just had to be done. Just like the comment I made to the four foot Hagrid that was running around the store in search of his friend Harry that bent people over clutching their guts as they laughed good naturedly, "Funny. I always thought he was much taller."
Many fits of giggles later, a sneak peek at Professor Snape, a moment with the sorting hat, and one very blonde lady with a very bad case of bad costume idea later, and yes, it really was that bad of a costume idea, we stood in something that appeared to consider itself a line and waited for our number to be called, which thankfully didn't take too long. Thankfully because I was starting to get tempted to don a pair of the free Harry glasses, stick a fake lightning bolt sticker to my forehead and plead with all my might, "Anything but Slytherin!"
The whole experience was like an after party that came before the big moment. The store packed full with people just waiting for the stroke of midnight and then that final minute that came afterwards while the registers switched over to a new day's business and children and adults alike counted down to the big moment ...
10, 9, 8 ... Went the count, the excitement building in the room. But I was too busy laughing to bother with the counting. Telling my sister Jo, who went with me to this auspicious occasion, that there was no way in hell I was counting down like a march hare to mating season. Nope. I wasn't going to do it.
And when the crowd hit zero, there were screams of delight and sounds of joy as people clapped and chanted Harry, Harry, Harry ... I'm telling you, it was very cult like. (Maybe the Pope had something with that little theory of his ... Kidding.) Being the smart ass that I am, I decided a little delayed reaction screaming on my part was in order and I did a little woo hoo a full minute after everyone else was done just to keep the spirit alive.
What can I say, I like being the center of attention? Kind of like a tension breaker. It just had to be done. Just like the comment I made to the four foot Hagrid that was running around the store in search of his friend Harry that bent people over clutching their guts as they laughed good naturedly, "Funny. I always thought he was much taller."
Many fits of giggles later, a sneak peek at Professor Snape, a moment with the sorting hat, and one very blonde lady with a very bad case of bad costume idea later, and yes, it really was that bad of a costume idea, we stood in something that appeared to consider itself a line and waited for our number to be called, which thankfully didn't take too long. Thankfully because I was starting to get tempted to don a pair of the free Harry glasses, stick a fake lightning bolt sticker to my forehead and plead with all my might, "Anything but Slytherin!"
Harry Potter-ized
Yes, ladies and gentleman ... I was there for the grand unveiling of installment six. The crowd was massive, the countdown all but unbearable, but as number 101, I was out the door by half past midnight with my copy in hand ... (Along with another book that happened to catch my eye. Damn Barnes and Noble! They know my weakness!)
But no ... I'm not going to even think about opening that book a crack tonight. I know better. If I were to read so much as one sentence, I wouldn't stop until I was finished. And believe me, when I say I can live up to my word. I read book one through five in the course of one week and was disappointed that I was going to have to wait for more. (Patience has never been my thing.)
Many stories to tell about all I witnessed tonight, but for now, my bed pulls me away from words. Sweet dreams to all my favorite muggles out there.
But no ... I'm not going to even think about opening that book a crack tonight. I know better. If I were to read so much as one sentence, I wouldn't stop until I was finished. And believe me, when I say I can live up to my word. I read book one through five in the course of one week and was disappointed that I was going to have to wait for more. (Patience has never been my thing.)
Many stories to tell about all I witnessed tonight, but for now, my bed pulls me away from words. Sweet dreams to all my favorite muggles out there.
Permanent Snooze
I am so uninteresting.
Other than things I can't talk about, at least not now and here, my life this week has been quiet, quiet, quiet ...
But maybe quiet isn't such a bad thing. Well, other than for the fact that it doesn't make for great writing or reading.
And since I have nothing more to say. I'm off. Keep your fingers crossed I'll have something worthwhile to blog about soon ...
Other than things I can't talk about, at least not now and here, my life this week has been quiet, quiet, quiet ...
But maybe quiet isn't such a bad thing. Well, other than for the fact that it doesn't make for great writing or reading.
And since I have nothing more to say. I'm off. Keep your fingers crossed I'll have something worthwhile to blog about soon ...
Getting Back on Track
Nothing I can do or say tonight is going to make my daughter happy. In fact, it would be safer to say that I'm having quite the opposite effect. Two extra days away from home and my little one has come home like a bear. Growling and gnashing her teeth in a long list of complaints that seem endless.
But I should be used to this by now. This readjustment phase that has to happen when she comes home. One full day of wake and sleep until she's back on our schedule, until she's ready to hear me and actually listen to what I'm saying. Until I'm not the worst Mother in the world who still hasn't bought her that brand new pink Yankees jersey sporting Derek Jeter's number two ...
But I should be used to this by now. This readjustment phase that has to happen when she comes home. One full day of wake and sleep until she's back on our schedule, until she's ready to hear me and actually listen to what I'm saying. Until I'm not the worst Mother in the world who still hasn't bought her that brand new pink Yankees jersey sporting Derek Jeter's number two ...
Ho Hum ...
It's raining now. A soft, gentle rain cold to touch that changes directions only when the winds begin to blow. And it reminds me of something that my Mother has always said, about leaves turning back upon themselves and cows lying down in the fields, how you can always take these as sure signs that rain will come.
And I believe it about the leaves, though the cows leave some doubt, as sometimes I am sure they only mean to rest a while.
But it's just another a quiet day.
KC has gone to her father's for the weekend and I'm left to clean house and wait for the laundry to dry, so that I too can make like I have a life and get out for a bit. Of course, my destination is never much of a surprise and no matter what direction I take, I always seem to find myself on my best friend's doorstep seeking sanctuary.
Sanctuary however, should not be misinterpreted as serene. With three children running about the house, it is seldom a place anyone would mistake for quiet. And yet, there are times when I crave noise more so than silence.
And I believe it about the leaves, though the cows leave some doubt, as sometimes I am sure they only mean to rest a while.
But it's just another a quiet day.
KC has gone to her father's for the weekend and I'm left to clean house and wait for the laundry to dry, so that I too can make like I have a life and get out for a bit. Of course, my destination is never much of a surprise and no matter what direction I take, I always seem to find myself on my best friend's doorstep seeking sanctuary.
Sanctuary however, should not be misinterpreted as serene. With three children running about the house, it is seldom a place anyone would mistake for quiet. And yet, there are times when I crave noise more so than silence.
In the Middle
The truth is he doesn't know me.
I'm the daughter of a woman who scared him with her strength.
And I am more like her than him.
And in his eyes, old anger makes me a bitch.
And this is what he thinks of me when he says nothing.
And this is what I think when I'm waiting for his reply,
Because when it comes to choosing sides, he is never on mine.
Fun with Photos ...
Photo blogging is a great tool when you've got nothing of any interest to say ...
You Don't Bring Me Flowers ...
So I haven't blogged in three days. And coming home tonight - though despite the lateness of the hour - I've come to the conclusion that I'm feeling mighty guilty for abandoning my blog these past few weeks.
Life is my excuse.
The busy. The crazy. The hectic. The stressful. It all seems to be adding up lately. Personal. Professional. Emotional. You name it, I've ran the gamet of a wide variety of overstimulation situations.
Right now however, I'm tired. And without much say from me, my eyes are beginning to close. So even though I haven't managed to say anything wise, witty or clever, I am to bed.
Perhaps tomorrow they'll be a story or two to share ...
Life is my excuse.
The busy. The crazy. The hectic. The stressful. It all seems to be adding up lately. Personal. Professional. Emotional. You name it, I've ran the gamet of a wide variety of overstimulation situations.
Right now however, I'm tired. And without much say from me, my eyes are beginning to close. So even though I haven't managed to say anything wise, witty or clever, I am to bed.
Perhaps tomorrow they'll be a story or two to share ...
The Blessed Rumble of Thunder
I think a little rain dancing is in order.
Perhaps if it rains hard enough, I'll find a half broken gutter and do what I used to do when I was a child ... There was nothing half as fun as running outside with shampoo and conditioner bottles in hand, and washing your hair with nature.
(And of course anything else that happened to come down with the gutter. On second thought, that could have been nasty ...)
Perhaps if it rains hard enough, I'll find a half broken gutter and do what I used to do when I was a child ... There was nothing half as fun as running outside with shampoo and conditioner bottles in hand, and washing your hair with nature.
(And of course anything else that happened to come down with the gutter. On second thought, that could have been nasty ...)
Outside Influence
The cats are sleeping on the living room table, stretched out in front of the fan side by side, as if they almost like each other enough to be in such close proximity. But I know it's only the fan that keeps them amicable, right along with the heat induced laziness that leaves them with little desire to move.
And I am feeling like my cats. Drained and exhausted from a night with more dreams than sleep, and the bits of leftover stress from the borrowed box of Pandora, whose contents have spilled over into my own small household.
Upstairs the children play, happy enough to be some small annoyance to the other, as their furtive whispers filter down the stairs. And I should be worried. Where there are whispers there are plans, and where there are plans there are ideas that usually turn out badly. Nevertheless, I'm letting them play undisturbed in order to give my mind the mental break it so desperately desires ...
And it desires it desperately, as desperately as it now desires sleep even though I've much to do and more to come tomorrow.
And I am feeling like my cats. Drained and exhausted from a night with more dreams than sleep, and the bits of leftover stress from the borrowed box of Pandora, whose contents have spilled over into my own small household.
Upstairs the children play, happy enough to be some small annoyance to the other, as their furtive whispers filter down the stairs. And I should be worried. Where there are whispers there are plans, and where there are plans there are ideas that usually turn out badly. Nevertheless, I'm letting them play undisturbed in order to give my mind the mental break it so desperately desires ...
And it desires it desperately, as desperately as it now desires sleep even though I've much to do and more to come tomorrow.
In Need of an Air Conditioner
Does anyone buy the excuse that it's too hot to blog? Cause it is. Too hot. Too damn hot. And my God, I can't believe I'm saying this ... But I wish - wish with all my heart - that it would snow. And if it did snow, I'd be outside dancing in my front yard barefoot ....
What else can I say?
Work was long and boring ... Between phone issues and computer issues, we wasted most of the day conversing through the walls and amusing ourselves with game after game of free cell. I am a free cell master by the way ...
Coming home I attempted to do some chores around the house, only to come to the conclusion that cleaning in this sort of heat should be a criminal offense punishable by law. Needless to say, I vacuumed, I dusted and then I sat my ass down and said "Fogedaboutit" ...
Anyhoo ... I need to go raid the freezer for a freezy pop. I think orange sounds good this time around.
What else can I say?
Work was long and boring ... Between phone issues and computer issues, we wasted most of the day conversing through the walls and amusing ourselves with game after game of free cell. I am a free cell master by the way ...
Coming home I attempted to do some chores around the house, only to come to the conclusion that cleaning in this sort of heat should be a criminal offense punishable by law. Needless to say, I vacuumed, I dusted and then I sat my ass down and said "Fogedaboutit" ...
Anyhoo ... I need to go raid the freezer for a freezy pop. I think orange sounds good this time around.
Hazards of Sleeping In
I should have known by the excessive silence this morning that something was most definitely up in my kitchen ... But for some reason, I never would have guessed that the two girls (KC had a friend over last night) would take it upon themselves to clean up last night's dishes this morning. But I was bit scared as I pulled open the dishwasher (every house should have one) door, only to find it all sorts of empty.
"We washed them by hand," announced my daughter in a voice laced with pride. And it was all I could do to stop the look of dismay I was sure was flashing across my face as I thought to myself, "Oh God no ..."
I don't even want to think about it yet. Think about all the dishes put away quite out of place in my cupboards that are most likely not as clean as clean should be. Because my daughter - in all her nine going on ten years - has never and by this I mean never ever, washed a dish by hand in her entire life. I've good reason to be scared ...
So it's all I can do to wait long enough for later when the girls are preoccupied by something else to go through the cupboards and load most of their contents into the dishwasher for a little re-washing ...
However, considering the screeches coming from upstairs and the knowledge that my pup tent is probably in danger (the girls had an indoor camping event last night) of being un-pupped, I should probably go up and take in the carnage for myself. And even though I'm only guessing, I have a feeling that today is going to be a very long day indeed ...
"We washed them by hand," announced my daughter in a voice laced with pride. And it was all I could do to stop the look of dismay I was sure was flashing across my face as I thought to myself, "Oh God no ..."
I don't even want to think about it yet. Think about all the dishes put away quite out of place in my cupboards that are most likely not as clean as clean should be. Because my daughter - in all her nine going on ten years - has never and by this I mean never ever, washed a dish by hand in her entire life. I've good reason to be scared ...
So it's all I can do to wait long enough for later when the girls are preoccupied by something else to go through the cupboards and load most of their contents into the dishwasher for a little re-washing ...
However, considering the screeches coming from upstairs and the knowledge that my pup tent is probably in danger (the girls had an indoor camping event last night) of being un-pupped, I should probably go up and take in the carnage for myself. And even though I'm only guessing, I have a feeling that today is going to be a very long day indeed ...
Places To Call Home ...
Some people love the ocean. Love walking between the sand and surf with bare toes. Some people love the city. The sound of traffic and life moving at a frantic pace. Some people love the country. Love watching the stars in a clear, black sky with silence as their only backdrop. But me, I love the mountains most. The way the earth smells of pine and moss. The blueness of the mountains at twilight. The sound of a loon carrying across the water. The slow lap of the tide on a narrow stretch of sandbar. When I am there, I am home. And a smile lights on my face like no other smile can. And I am always loathe to leave on my downward trek to the valley.
Hollywood Blog
With all this talk about Tom Cruise in the media lately, I just thought I'd put it out there that I am absolutely not a fan of his. And it seems to me, that no matter the role he's portraying, he never comes off as anyone other than himself, which doesn't exactly lend any credence to his films ... Not that I torture myself with watching too many of them, as I'm a bit of a movie snob at times.
And why is it my Good Morning America news has to gush all over this whole Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes thing? Does the nation really need to know about their dating life or the fact that he's a bit of a wacko when in "love"? (Really Tom, the one knee elbow jerk thing is so much over the top that it comes off as disingenuous.) And Katie Holmes ... Poor girl. I quite imagine that she'll be completely disillusioned when things go sour, as in Hollywood they are wont to do.
Oy ... Listen to me now. I'm so out of topics to blog about that I'm wasting precious words on people I don't know and wouldn't care to meet. I may be a bit green over their no need to worry about paying the bills on time, but I certainly wouldn't want to live my life in the spotlight ... Not that I'd mind getting doused with some water about now ... It's freaking hot.
A good time to seek my fan I think ... And by that, I mean the one that twirls round and round bringing me cool, soft breezes.
So peace out people. Cause as Arnie says, "I'll be back."
And why is it my Good Morning America news has to gush all over this whole Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes thing? Does the nation really need to know about their dating life or the fact that he's a bit of a wacko when in "love"? (Really Tom, the one knee elbow jerk thing is so much over the top that it comes off as disingenuous.) And Katie Holmes ... Poor girl. I quite imagine that she'll be completely disillusioned when things go sour, as in Hollywood they are wont to do.
Oy ... Listen to me now. I'm so out of topics to blog about that I'm wasting precious words on people I don't know and wouldn't care to meet. I may be a bit green over their no need to worry about paying the bills on time, but I certainly wouldn't want to live my life in the spotlight ... Not that I'd mind getting doused with some water about now ... It's freaking hot.
A good time to seek my fan I think ... And by that, I mean the one that twirls round and round bringing me cool, soft breezes.
So peace out people. Cause as Arnie says, "I'll be back."
Dinner and A Movie
Brenda demands to know where the posts are, and here it is. At least one for tonight anyway.
We - as in my nephew and I - just finished watching the Phantom of the Opera movie ... And much to his enjoyment, I cried like a baby at the end. I mean, who could help themselves? Oh to have such choices between the handsome Raoul and the deep (though somewhat scary) passions of the Phantom. It's every girls dream.
I burned my hand quite bad tonight. I was cleaning up after dinner and was rolling the leftovers in Reynolds wrap to freeze when the palm of my hand accidentally connected with 400 degree hotness ... And for a moment, I was actually frozen in pain before I thought to move quickly to the sink and put my hand under cold water. Two hours and many, many ice cubes later, my hand feels much better although it's still tender to touch where an ugly looking blister has formed.
I'm going to be more than alright though despite depressing myself over a wonderfully done movie and the countless numbers of dreamy sighs that followed ... And it seems to me, I might just have to go out and add that movie to my collection. However, not tonight. I've a bit more work to do on my Father's Day project (and yes, I did find the perfect song, thanks for everyone for their input, their time and their help) before calling it a night.
We - as in my nephew and I - just finished watching the Phantom of the Opera movie ... And much to his enjoyment, I cried like a baby at the end. I mean, who could help themselves? Oh to have such choices between the handsome Raoul and the deep (though somewhat scary) passions of the Phantom. It's every girls dream.
I burned my hand quite bad tonight. I was cleaning up after dinner and was rolling the leftovers in Reynolds wrap to freeze when the palm of my hand accidentally connected with 400 degree hotness ... And for a moment, I was actually frozen in pain before I thought to move quickly to the sink and put my hand under cold water. Two hours and many, many ice cubes later, my hand feels much better although it's still tender to touch where an ugly looking blister has formed.
I'm going to be more than alright though despite depressing myself over a wonderfully done movie and the countless numbers of dreamy sighs that followed ... And it seems to me, I might just have to go out and add that movie to my collection. However, not tonight. I've a bit more work to do on my Father's Day project (and yes, I did find the perfect song, thanks for everyone for their input, their time and their help) before calling it a night.
Cinderella In Search of a Shoe
The one thing that keeps me from being perfect is perfection ... Something I might add I've never claimed to be. In fact, the whole statement seems rather absurd. And yet, I try to be perfect a lot. Though to be completely honest, I'm as far away from it as possible in one of those the more I try the further I get away from it all things ...
But when it comes to projects ... Such as the one I've spent the last few days working on, anything short of perfection just isn't good enough. And though I'm satisfied with part one of my three part project, part two is giving me a run for my money. And I'm flat broke.
The thing is, I can't find the right song. And trust me, I've been just about everywhere to find it, including searching my entire collection of music which brought me to the conclusion that my tastes are not exactly the kind of choices one would put as a backdrop to a picture CD full of memories ...
For you see, just like the project I made for Mother's Day, Father's Day is requiring much of the same effort. Mom's was easy though. We like enough of the same music that I can pretty much hear a song and know whether or not she'd like it ... With the exception of a few random Tori songs that I dig while she simply feigns amusement and humors me for my own good ...
And without the right music, I can't even begin to edit my project, let alone set it to the right rhythm. And without rhythm, it just won't mean a thing.
So what is a girl to do? Choose a song that will work, though it's obviously not the best or wait until crunch time relying on the luck of the Gods to bring me the song I need? Or do I simply implore all of you out there to think this over in your brains and share your thoughts if any such thoughts should come? Or just scream really, really loudly for help?
Anyhoo ... I'm out to finish searching upstairs. Maybe if I look hard enough something (or anything closer than where I'm currently at) will come to me and be just right.
Keep your fingers crossed.
But when it comes to projects ... Such as the one I've spent the last few days working on, anything short of perfection just isn't good enough. And though I'm satisfied with part one of my three part project, part two is giving me a run for my money. And I'm flat broke.
The thing is, I can't find the right song. And trust me, I've been just about everywhere to find it, including searching my entire collection of music which brought me to the conclusion that my tastes are not exactly the kind of choices one would put as a backdrop to a picture CD full of memories ...
For you see, just like the project I made for Mother's Day, Father's Day is requiring much of the same effort. Mom's was easy though. We like enough of the same music that I can pretty much hear a song and know whether or not she'd like it ... With the exception of a few random Tori songs that I dig while she simply feigns amusement and humors me for my own good ...
And without the right music, I can't even begin to edit my project, let alone set it to the right rhythm. And without rhythm, it just won't mean a thing.
So what is a girl to do? Choose a song that will work, though it's obviously not the best or wait until crunch time relying on the luck of the Gods to bring me the song I need? Or do I simply implore all of you out there to think this over in your brains and share your thoughts if any such thoughts should come? Or just scream really, really loudly for help?
Anyhoo ... I'm out to finish searching upstairs. Maybe if I look hard enough something (or anything closer than where I'm currently at) will come to me and be just right.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Dancing in the Rain
I don't normally get geeky over the weather, but ... It's raining! It's finally raining! Goodbye heat wave. See you later sauna! Bring on the storm clouds. I celebrate you cloudy, wet and wonderful weather ... Keep on raining!
Lazy Sunday in the Sun
Today has been full of the usual chores ... Laundry, dishes, vacuuming and if I make it to the bottom of the list, dusting. Not on the usual list was bathing of the cats. Something that is undertaken with a wee bit of terror (on my part) and a whole lot of screeching (on Octavia's part) and a hurry up and get this over with look (on Emma's part) and a but I want to help give the cats a bath (on KC's part) and a I just want to get through this completely unscathed (on my part) ...
And other than one major scratch, thanks to Octavia the kitten of doom, it wasn't near as bad as I thought it was going to be. But this only because Emma makes giving a cat a bath look easy. And it is, with her ... She's been getting baths since the very first day I brought her home and though it's quite obvious she isn't thrilled with the idea, she's the only cat I've ever known to sit patiently beneath the tub's spicket as water pours over her. Tavi on the other hand was playing like MacGyver doing everything and anything to get out of the sink and on to freedom.
Thankfully now that the cats spa treatment is done and over with, I can now get on to the getting on with my day and get into the shower in order to get out of the house and down the roads to Dad's, where I plan on spending the rest of the afternoon - dusting done or not - in the pool, soaking up some sun and doing a bit of fluff reading while reclining on the floaty thing ...
Sigh ... Some days it doesn't take much to please me at all.
And other than one major scratch, thanks to Octavia the kitten of doom, it wasn't near as bad as I thought it was going to be. But this only because Emma makes giving a cat a bath look easy. And it is, with her ... She's been getting baths since the very first day I brought her home and though it's quite obvious she isn't thrilled with the idea, she's the only cat I've ever known to sit patiently beneath the tub's spicket as water pours over her. Tavi on the other hand was playing like MacGyver doing everything and anything to get out of the sink and on to freedom.
Thankfully now that the cats spa treatment is done and over with, I can now get on to the getting on with my day and get into the shower in order to get out of the house and down the roads to Dad's, where I plan on spending the rest of the afternoon - dusting done or not - in the pool, soaking up some sun and doing a bit of fluff reading while reclining on the floaty thing ...
Sigh ... Some days it doesn't take much to please me at all.
To Be Continued ...
Busy, busy morning ahead of me. Well, really a busy, busy day. Meeting up with Bren this morning to bustle all of the kiddies to the movies to see Madagascar and then tonight a little relay for life walking beneath the stars. And if I had to take a guess, I'd say there's going to be a lot of random silliness inbetween.
But for now I'm all about a quick, cold shower, eating a bagel for breakfast and hitting the open road with the windows down and the sunroof open. Not a problem for a girl whose bad hair days far out number her good hair days ...
So to all of you out there in this great big somewhere, think happy thoughts and smile, smile, smile ...
But for now I'm all about a quick, cold shower, eating a bagel for breakfast and hitting the open road with the windows down and the sunroof open. Not a problem for a girl whose bad hair days far out number her good hair days ...
So to all of you out there in this great big somewhere, think happy thoughts and smile, smile, smile ...
Bit of an Ouch
I think I may be a bit bruised and battered.
After work tonight I went over to my Father's house for an impromptu family dinner, followed by a refreshing dip in the pool. Something that should have been relaxing, though it turned out to be somewhat painful. My niece, quite proud of her new able to jump in the pool with no fear status, called me over at one point to catch her. And catch her I did. Except not with my hands. Instead she caught me completely off guard and smashed into me so hard, it stole the breath from my chest.
"Sorry Aunt Stacey," her little voice said as she paddled her way back to the stairs. I just stood back, pressing my back against the side of the pool, waiting for the pain of impact to ebb, all the while thinking that's going to leave one hell of a bruise.
But in reality, I'm none the worse for wear. Accidents happen and I'm no stranger to being in the way of moving and inanimate objects ... In other words, I'm more klutz than grace 98.9 percent of the time.
After work tonight I went over to my Father's house for an impromptu family dinner, followed by a refreshing dip in the pool. Something that should have been relaxing, though it turned out to be somewhat painful. My niece, quite proud of her new able to jump in the pool with no fear status, called me over at one point to catch her. And catch her I did. Except not with my hands. Instead she caught me completely off guard and smashed into me so hard, it stole the breath from my chest.
"Sorry Aunt Stacey," her little voice said as she paddled her way back to the stairs. I just stood back, pressing my back against the side of the pool, waiting for the pain of impact to ebb, all the while thinking that's going to leave one hell of a bruise.
But in reality, I'm none the worse for wear. Accidents happen and I'm no stranger to being in the way of moving and inanimate objects ... In other words, I'm more klutz than grace 98.9 percent of the time.
Ice Cubism
How?
How am I supposed to think, let alone write anything of any interest at all when I am frying like an egg in a cast iron frying pan?
I need ice cubes. And lots of them. I want to fill my bed with ice cubes and sleep in it's comfy coldness. Until they start melting that is. I've no desire to sleep in the infamous wet spot.
I seriously don't know how people who live down South can take this sort of heat and humidity day after day. I would much rather deal with freezing rain, sleet and snow. Until it's raining, sleeting and snowing ... And then I remember days like these with a fond wistfulness that doesn't remember dehydrating like a raisin - in the sun.
Oh air conditioner. Wherefore art thou, air conditioner?
How am I supposed to think, let alone write anything of any interest at all when I am frying like an egg in a cast iron frying pan?
I need ice cubes. And lots of them. I want to fill my bed with ice cubes and sleep in it's comfy coldness. Until they start melting that is. I've no desire to sleep in the infamous wet spot.
I seriously don't know how people who live down South can take this sort of heat and humidity day after day. I would much rather deal with freezing rain, sleet and snow. Until it's raining, sleeting and snowing ... And then I remember days like these with a fond wistfulness that doesn't remember dehydrating like a raisin - in the sun.
Oh air conditioner. Wherefore art thou, air conditioner?
Full of Hot Air
The next time I get the brilliant idea to blow up a kiddy pool by breath alone, I want someone to remind me of nearly passing out from the exertion of it all. Especially when it happens to be almost eighty nine degrees outside with no hint of a breeze whatsoever. Talk about what was I thinking ... What was I thinking?
Blowing the pool up however was the easy part. Bren and I had to take a special run to the Home Depot in search of an adaptor for the faucet which would allow me to run a garden hose from the kitchen sink to the inflatable pool outside.
I'd like to take the time right now to point out that we did actually manage to be in the RIGHT aisle, and right in front of the parts we needed, though we did ask for assistance just to make sure we had it right before we got all the way home ... That sort of mistake would have cost me a lot more than my pride ...
Anyhoo after Gramps got done flirting with us, and I managed to slip my phone number to him with a smiley face and a call me note, (okay maybe not so much on that second thing) we headed to the check out where Bren made me go outside of my comfort zone and through the self check out ... (This is the it's all her fault portion of this entry.)
As if I didn't know better ...
And yet, it turned out to be much easier than I thought. Until I got outside that is, and realized as I was pushing the cart into the corral, that hmmmm ... Where'd my bag go?
Rocket scientist that I am, I scanned the merchandise, paid for the merchandise and then ... (drum roll please) walked right out the door without it. I am such a moron!
So of course, I sent Bren back into the store to get my forgotten items ...
You didn't think I was about to go back in all red faced with embarrassment did you? No way, Jose.
And you know it's bad when the very first thing that comes out of your best friend's mouth is, "Well at least now you can blog about your field trip to Home Depot today."
Yay me!
In other news, I got the much anticipated email today, and none too soon ... My arms were beginning to look rather tasty. But more on that later. This girl has got to get to bed. It's Monday tomorrow ...
Blowing the pool up however was the easy part. Bren and I had to take a special run to the Home Depot in search of an adaptor for the faucet which would allow me to run a garden hose from the kitchen sink to the inflatable pool outside.
I'd like to take the time right now to point out that we did actually manage to be in the RIGHT aisle, and right in front of the parts we needed, though we did ask for assistance just to make sure we had it right before we got all the way home ... That sort of mistake would have cost me a lot more than my pride ...
Anyhoo after Gramps got done flirting with us, and I managed to slip my phone number to him with a smiley face and a call me note, (okay maybe not so much on that second thing) we headed to the check out where Bren made me go outside of my comfort zone and through the self check out ... (This is the it's all her fault portion of this entry.)
As if I didn't know better ...
And yet, it turned out to be much easier than I thought. Until I got outside that is, and realized as I was pushing the cart into the corral, that hmmmm ... Where'd my bag go?
Rocket scientist that I am, I scanned the merchandise, paid for the merchandise and then ... (drum roll please) walked right out the door without it. I am such a moron!
So of course, I sent Bren back into the store to get my forgotten items ...
You didn't think I was about to go back in all red faced with embarrassment did you? No way, Jose.
And you know it's bad when the very first thing that comes out of your best friend's mouth is, "Well at least now you can blog about your field trip to Home Depot today."
Yay me!
In other news, I got the much anticipated email today, and none too soon ... My arms were beginning to look rather tasty. But more on that later. This girl has got to get to bed. It's Monday tomorrow ...
Star Light, Star Bright
Despite the hour, I'm considering this my Saturday post. It is after all the middle of the night and not something I consider to be Sunday just yet.
Well, I did it.
I wrote an email to Tracy and hit the good old send button. Now all I have to do is wait, and not gnaw my arms off in the process. Patience has never been my thing. Ever ...
I slept until noon today. Probably why I'm still awake and fully functioning now, when normally I'd be enjoying the comfort of my bed while dreaming. But it's kind of nice being awake and listening to the quiet that surrounds me and watching the stars from my window that twinkle unabashedly overhead.
There's something very close to magical when it comes to gazing up at the stars. People everywhere should do more of it ... Maybe then, this world wouldn't seem quite as complicated as it can.
As for me, I think a few more minutes of stargazing are in order and then maybe, just maybe, I'll give sleeping a second thought.
Well, I did it.
I wrote an email to Tracy and hit the good old send button. Now all I have to do is wait, and not gnaw my arms off in the process. Patience has never been my thing. Ever ...
I slept until noon today. Probably why I'm still awake and fully functioning now, when normally I'd be enjoying the comfort of my bed while dreaming. But it's kind of nice being awake and listening to the quiet that surrounds me and watching the stars from my window that twinkle unabashedly overhead.
There's something very close to magical when it comes to gazing up at the stars. People everywhere should do more of it ... Maybe then, this world wouldn't seem quite as complicated as it can.
As for me, I think a few more minutes of stargazing are in order and then maybe, just maybe, I'll give sleeping a second thought.
Stories Without Endings
There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
We were the girls of Penfield Hall. Brought together by accident. Brought together by fate. Five points of light that became the best of friends, until like a supernova we burnt ourselves out, scattering our remnants in different directions throughout the galaxy.
In the back of my mind, I have always wondered. Wondered what life would have been like had things not gone the way they did. Had we made better choices, or smarter decisions, or had we known that the path before us would prove to be so difficult. An uphill climb. Would we have changed a thing?
Pictures of random memories fill my mind and make me laugh. Like the time we skipped our classes to watch Jeopardy. Showing up in the dining hall with our pajamas on and our baseball caps slung low over our eyes, too hungover to move but too hungry to stay in bed. Night after night after night of bar hopping and bed hopping and acting like fools on the long walk back from the creek.
And who could forget the boys?
Jay Bear, Guinea, Eric, Spider, Jim Beam, Dennis, PJ, Kleahner, Chip, Tommy, Jimmy, Paulsy, Bob, Daryn with a 'Y" ... Ryder, Slapper, Ray, Lee, OJ, Little Lou, Double Marc, Matt aka the Weasel, Kinger, Vazanno, Tim, and many, many more that would take too long to remember.
We had some awesome times. House parties at Tommy's. My Ouija beer. Buds at PJ's on Baker Street, and the infamous tucking it ... Robin breaking PJ's nose. Brenda and her noisy outburst by the chain link fence only minutes after leaving a crowded bar that had been chanting Coley. Tracy dangling worms from her mouth. Carrie crying loud enough to shatter glass. And the well known (but little used) price list for cheap touches below the waist (. 25 cents) that hung on the wall in our suite, which only furthered our college nickname along, so that when we walked to and from our dorms, there was always someone calling out, "Hey Hookers!"
The good times are easy to remember. They bring smiles, familiar stories I have told a thousand times, and a warmth much like a comforting hug. Those times I wouldn't trade. But bad followed good in those days. And things went wrong as they were wont to do. And when put to the test, we all failed quite miserably.
Brenda dropped out of college. Robin decided to take a year off. Carrie, Tracy and I held on as long as we could. I moved back home at the end of October. Carrie and Tracy packed up and left too. I haven't spoken to either since. In May I found out I was pregnant, four months later Brenda found out she was too. We had our babies, me a girl and Brenda a boy. And somehow I lost touch with Robin.
The girls of Penfield Hall were no longer.
And yet there is light ... A small and silent beacon beginning to glow, beginning to come back into its own being. The initial three. Brenda, Robin and I, talk and if not regularly, email. And Carrie too. Though I have yet to speak to her or hear of her through any other means than Robin. And tonight, we have come full circle. Tracy has been found.
I want so desperately to contact all of them. To bring us back together. The new, the improved, the older and the wiser. I want so much for all the water to be under the bridge, to be able to pick up the phone and call any one of them and tell them everything on my mind. I want my best friends back. All of them.
There is a story to be told. It's had its beginning, it's witnessed its end and now it asks to have its middle ...
String Around the Finger
I have the world's worst memory. And when it comes to remembering something important, I'm not above sticking a post it note on the back of my front door that reads, "Today is a company recognized holiday. Do not pass go. Do not go to work, but go directly back upstairs to bed." And yes, I have gone to work before only to realize that I was the only car in the parking lot ... Damn!
And so as Moe was leaving today (the lucky bastard was on the early shift) he stopped at my door and said with a grin on his face, "Don't forget we've got the meeting tomorrow morning." A meeting I had already forgotten ... And one he knew I had already forgotten judging by the sarcastic little upturn of his lips.
Being the smart girl that I sometimes am, I decided right then and there that something had to be done. And so I did the only thing that I could think of on the spur of the moment. I called home to my answering machine.
I'd like to take a moment now and admit that I do indeed have an incredibly dorky and yet somehow still adorable side. And while I'm at it, I'll also admit that I do sing in the car, flip people off when they're not looking, stick my tongue out of my mouth at least 2 times a day while making weird faces, and have been known to say the most incredibly stupid things. Although it should be noted, that the incredibly stupid things are more prone to come out of my mouth with a member of the male species standing nearby ...
Back to the answering machine message. Now I know a lot of people out there might have just left a basic memo like message on their machine to remind them, but come on, if you haven't learned by now that I'm not like most people, you haven't read nearly enough of the archives ... And seriously what girl wouldn't want to go home to this message?
"Hello there you gorgeous creature. This is your friendly reminder to set your alarm and get your ass out of bed extra early tomorrow morning for your meeting. And just to tell you right now, there will be no hitting the snooze button come morning. Not even once, so get to it! Oh and yeah, peace out yo."
And so as Moe was leaving today (the lucky bastard was on the early shift) he stopped at my door and said with a grin on his face, "Don't forget we've got the meeting tomorrow morning." A meeting I had already forgotten ... And one he knew I had already forgotten judging by the sarcastic little upturn of his lips.
Being the smart girl that I sometimes am, I decided right then and there that something had to be done. And so I did the only thing that I could think of on the spur of the moment. I called home to my answering machine.
I'd like to take a moment now and admit that I do indeed have an incredibly dorky and yet somehow still adorable side. And while I'm at it, I'll also admit that I do sing in the car, flip people off when they're not looking, stick my tongue out of my mouth at least 2 times a day while making weird faces, and have been known to say the most incredibly stupid things. Although it should be noted, that the incredibly stupid things are more prone to come out of my mouth with a member of the male species standing nearby ...
Back to the answering machine message. Now I know a lot of people out there might have just left a basic memo like message on their machine to remind them, but come on, if you haven't learned by now that I'm not like most people, you haven't read nearly enough of the archives ... And seriously what girl wouldn't want to go home to this message?
"Hello there you gorgeous creature. This is your friendly reminder to set your alarm and get your ass out of bed extra early tomorrow morning for your meeting. And just to tell you right now, there will be no hitting the snooze button come morning. Not even once, so get to it! Oh and yeah, peace out yo."
