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.
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 ...
