Office Eye Candy

When your "Not Boss, Boss" gives you a hug before he leaves and wishes you a Merry Christmas and it's all you can do to keep the lustful images inside your head at bay, it's probably a good sign you've been on the job too long and/or need to get out more...

Although for an older guy he is a little bit hubba hubba... I'm just saying.

Dark Circles

If you dream all night about work, is it really fair to have to wake up and do it all over again? Because really at this point I don't even need to be creative to think of a reason of why I don't want to go in...

But I won't bitch too much. I'm on vacation both tomorrow and Monday, then the Friday after that lasting until the second day of the New Year. And all I can say for myself is, "Vacation! Woo Hoo!"

With that motivation in mind, it's time to prepare myself for today's big festivities at the office. God help me if someone doesn't spike the punch...

Margins and Borders

When I make up my mind to do something, even if it's the wrong something to do, I set my course, pack my bags and go. It's the stubborn side of me, the one who doesn't want to be proved wrong, but never waits around long enough to be proved right.

It's a weakness. A weakness I've turned into fictional strength, the art of moving forward when my heart is still about three steps behind. And whoever said that self-preservation is worth any cost, I'd like to know how they determined just how much was enough...

I refuse to turn in circles and yet I'm spinning. Days and nights, tripping over themselves tumbling onto me, balancing myself when I lean in one direction too far or in another not enough. Trying to figure out the whole world of everything. Keeping control on a short leash. Leaving nothing to chance.

Retail Shopping... The Only Therapy I Don't Need

I hate shopping!

Hate it! Hate it! Hate it! Hate it!

I have no patience for shopping. I want to be in. I want to be out. I want to be home. I find the whole experience tedious. From schlepping my way in, to schlepping about the isles in search of that ever elusive find of a deal.

Two and a half hours of shopping tonight for the minor child's outfit for her Christmas concert netted the following results...

One pair of black dress shoes.

Items still missing are black skirt and the requisite white dressy blouse.

And who the hell requires a white dressy blouse for Christmas anyway? And have you ever tried to find a white dressy blouse in mid-December? Because let me tell you, there is no such thing as a white dressy blouse! There is however plenty of winter white which is a fancy way of saying ivory! And ivory isn't an acceptable color for kids to wear to their *(*&#^$W*! Christmas concert!

Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck!

And no, I'm not even going to pretend I didn't mean to say any of that just now. My head hurts, my feet hurt, and I'm even pretty sure my ass hurts (mostly because it didn't want to feel left out) and all I can think about is one thing.

I've got to do this all over again tomorrow.

That's it... Cold compress and Nyquil, I'm your girl!

Why I Can't Blog Right Now

Today was too long a day away from home to blog about it right now. In fact, I'm too tired to think let alone trust myself to type...

And as far as excuses go I might as well say that the dog ate my homework... And considering the chompers that canine catastrophe does indeed have, no one who knows Izzy would doubt my story as true.

Parenting 101

Girls can be their own worst enemies, especially ones still trying to find their place amongst the crowd. Between the she said this and the she said that; best friends one minute and then bitter enemies the next, it's an uncut path that navigates the road to friendship.

And it's hard to get your point across to your daughter when she's of the mindset that she already knows everything that there is to know of how to effectively deal with a situation when someone is purposely being unkind or setting off a rumor that doesn't need to be retold.

For if I've told KC once, I've most likely said it a thousand times that, "Rumors should end right where they start." It's a choice to repeat them, and more often than not, it's the one who simply parrots what they've been told that reaps the blame rather than the one who set the ball off rolling in the first place.

Which is probably why I found myself talking to another parent this afternoon after a gaggle of girls managed to turn a mountain into a molehill despite the odds against it. And I wasn't very happy at all to be chatting with this man who for some reason thought he had the right to question my daughter over the matter without first speaking to me.

To say that I was livid would be putting it mildly. And without a doubt I let him know that his own behavior was grossly inappropriate. After all, I doubt he would be happy to find out that any parent had dared to question his child without his knowledge like some third rate trial lawyer. It simply crosses a line that should not be crossed.

I did say however that beyond the tar and feathering and the need to find someone to blame game he was insistent on needing to play, that it was more important to me that all the girls involved took ownership of whatever part they played in the perpetuation of what was said.

Had I counted how many times he interrupted me, or how rude his tone was while he spoke with me, even you dear reader would be amazed at how well I kept my cool when I wanted nothing better than to give him the verbal tongue lashing I know I could have easily doled out had I been of a mind to. But what I understand that he obviously cannot, is that it's far better to approach a problem seeking a solution that is beneficial for all, than it is to approach one looking only to place the blame.

Defining the Undefined

Emotional Fuckwittage

Main Entry: Emotional Fuckwittage

Pronunciation: Exactly how it sounds.

Function: Explanation of inexplicably bad behavior.

1. Behaving in a manner that causes unnecessary stress and/or upset to another.
2. To promote a duplicity of feelings.
3a. The inability to form a relationship. 3b. Commit to a relationship. 3c. Break off a relationship.
4. To cause confusion.
5. To be disingenuous.
6. Failure to follow through.
7. Inability to communicate either verbally and/or in print despite the invention of the phone and/or the computer.
8. To disengage.
9. To languishingly disappear.
10. To lack intentions.
11. Holding the emotions of another person hostage.
12. To believe that friends with benefits is a valid solution to having a non-relationship relationship.
13. Calling - months after the relationship has ended - just to talk.
14. The act of being unaccountable.
15. The ability to disappoint without trying.
16. To be male.

As far as being politically correct goes, I'm not even close to not offending someone... Then again, if you're all that offended you're either (a) male (b) guilty as charged or (c) both.

Tune In Tomorrow

Much too tired to say all that much this evening other than goodnight. The eye doctor story - in all its gory detail - is on hold until tomorrow... But because I know you all want to know the actual outcome...

I guess you'll just have to wait and read tomorrow...

Overtired, Obviously So...

Oh so tired and on my way to bed after having shellacked my fingers together quite by oversight more than anything else. Wouldn't have hurt so bad except said shellac was also over a file cut, so when my fingers finally came apart under warm water... Well, let's just say on the list of things that I'd file under a good time, that wasn't it.

But seriously, I must get myself to bed as I've a very important appointment in the morning with the eye doctor. And considering I've never ever been to the eye doctor, this is going to be one of those momentous moments for me, not all the impressive to anyone else things.

I'm giddy with anticipation... It's gonna be like trying to fall asleep on Christmas Eve!

Survey Says: Smell of Plastic Burning

If you're looking for information regarding melting tupperware or in my case a melting - what do you people call those things, oh yes - a colander (whereas my family calls it a sculabasta)... Or more information on just how bad melted plastic smells, and yes, it smells quite bad, especially when you melt said item in the oven by forgetting you left it in there... You've really come to the wrong place.

However thanks for all the visits as of late. There's nothing like finding out how people reach your site, even if it's only to be googled over your own idiocy in the kitchen.

Thanks for your support!

(My original post on this topic can be seen... HERE.)

No Coat, No Gloves, No Problem

If I haven't mentioned yet just how much I hate shoveling snow, consider this my formal declaration of said sad fact...

And though it might be a wise idea, considering I live in snowy upstate NY, to get myself some proper snow attire, I just can't bring myself do it.

In fact, I blame my Mother. Had she not made me wear those horribly ridiculous moon boots as a child, I might not be as adverse as I am to the whole looking like a trussed up turkey when it's twelve below zero.

In other news, I was speaking with my Mom earlier tonight on the phone and she said, and this is almost a direct quote, that she would like to comment more often on my blog, but considering that no one else does, she doesn't want to give off the impression that she is the only one who reads it.

Impression or not, that's no excuse! In fact, if I hadn't already sent out her Christmas box (prior to December 1, I might add) I'd hold onto it and wait until after New Year's... Like I normally do.

Making Friends With the New Neighbor

It turns out that I didn't have a high threshold for obnoxiously loud music. A glance at the clock - six minutes after nine to be exact last night - was all the motivation I needed to slip on a pair of shoes, jet out the back door and down the stairs to deliver my message of, "Seriously... With the music? That loud?"

I knocked once. No answer. Twice. Still ignored. And wouldn't you know it, that third time worked just like a charm. Of course, that might have been the point when Spinderella figured out I wasn't going to leave until she answered or actually heard my knocking - which at this point probably was more akin to pounding as I wasn't leaving without getting the results I wanted. (I'm very tenacious like that.)

Anyhoo the conversation itself was pretty much cut and dry and went a little something like this...


Me: "Hi. It's after nine. And your music is really loud. And it's past my daughter's bedtime... Do you think you could turn it down?"

Spin: (Insert nervous giggle as I must have had my mean, not taking no for an answer face on.) "Uh... Yeah. Sure... Sorry."

Me: (Arms folded to ward off cold, although this just probably made me look even more ticked off than I really was.) Thanks.

End scene.

So it's so far so good. The music is on, but for now it's at a reasonable decibel... Which is really great because just between you, me and everyone else on the world wide web, her taste in music sucks...

Why It Really Sucks To Rent - Part ll

I wouldn't be me if I didn't complain but seriously something has got to give with Spinderella downstairs. Because - and I'm not just saying this because I have the beginnings of a migraine in the making - if she doesn't turn that shit down that she's listening to, I am going to commence with my get my point across and get even plan.

See what Spin doesn't know, is that I am fully aware of the complete layout of her apartment. I know my bedroom is above her living room, my reading room above her dining room, and my dining room above her bedroom. And I also know that I can be as mean as I can be nice and if a simple could you please turn that down and respect everyone else who lives here in this house conversation won't do the trick, then maybe my stereo with some techno Tori dance beats situated by the heat vent in my dining room at three in the morning turned on as loud as it can possible go will be enough to drive that point home.

Listen... I'm not adverse to someone listening to their favorite songs and enjoying their new place, but honestly two nights in and you already start offending the neighbors by being too loud? How the hell does that work?

Alright... I'm pissy, cold, exhausted and beginning to think my head is attached to a beating drum. Therefore I'm going to bed before I hurt someone or say something that I wouldn't really regret all that much...

Why It Sucks To Rent

Oh separation anxiety dog, I was so wrong about you... Your soulful braying, the masterful way you filled your lungs with air and howled your discontent, the little nuggets of joy you left all over the little lawn we have... I miss you to the point of needing to run to the store to buy a bottle of Advil.

I miss you to the point that it's already clear that the new girl downstairs could never take your place. I miss you to the point that of all the things you didn't do that used to drive me nuts, you never ever played your music loud enough to feel the vibrations on the bottom of my feet through the floor...

Dear, dear dog whose name I never bothered to know... Come back.

I miss you.

Me

Questions Asked, Unanswered

She knows the conversation has ended. The pause that stammers for something more to say says it all. And the words inside her heart are sinking like buried treasures lost at sea.

She worries more about what she doesn't feel. Neither sad, nor happy, nor anything at all. Just nothing. Just acceptance of what she cannot change.

Perhaps she thinks it's just the lateness of the hour she finds herself awake in. Eyes weary and body ready for bed. She cannot plumb those depths tonight of seeking out her soul to call it to clarity. Clarity is to be avoided at all costs.

She takes her wants of why's to let them go. Are there answers or explanations? Or just excuses?

Lighting the Way

I despise fake trees but I have one. In fact, there is one currently standing guard in the front window of my living room, white lights gazing out into the snow filled darkness of the night awaiting the beautification that is to come. But beautification will have to wait until Sunday and the return of my child from her weekend away from home.

In the defense of said tree I will say however that a fake tree never sheds, never pokes you with needles sharp like knives and doesn't leave sticky sap sliding down into your carpet or your hardwood floors. It does not however deter cats... Especially cats who are amazed by bright lights, dangling ornaments and the irresistible call of nature that inspires napping about half way up, right before the tree crashes over with their added weight.

Still there's something special about a tree - real or fake - with twinkling lights and memories hanging on every branch...

On the Wind

I went out for lunch. Went out as far as the parking lot and sat in my car with the seat tucked back, my eyes closed. Listening to the silence, to the classical music playing on the radio station, to the sound of the wind pushing its way past everything in its rush to get someplace else. To the sound of my thoughts racing.

And I am trying to say something I don't know how to say. Trying to explain this feeling I had as I sat there in my car staring up at the birch trees overhead, their barren branches bending to please the wind.

I am like this tree, I thought. I am like this tree in every season of its life. I am like this tree with roots that keep me standing strong. With scars dug deep into my skin. I am like this tree with empty branches void of leaves. But I can see the promise of tender buds, dormant now but waiting to wake.

I am like this tree. Withstanding the cold. Keeping at bay these winds. I can feel the summer beneath this frozen ground. I can feel my leaves like phanton limbs.

Dog Days

Separation anxiety dog is at it again and has actually been at it for the past four hours. Endlessly howling with absolutely no end in sight, making me want to stamp my feet on the floor and scream, "Shut up!" until my own face turns blue with the effort to get the damn things attention for just one moment of howl free living.

Thankfully I've come to some simple conclusions...

(1) I'm happy to report that said downstairs neighbors are moving out by months end and taking the I need to be on drugs dog with them.

and

(2) Stamping on the floor and shouting only makes it worse. A truth I did manage to find out first hand when I was in a particularly pissy mood one night. Bad impatient, easy to irritate me.

And I like dogs! I really do! I'm just not a big fan of living above one that never (and I'm not kidding when I say never) shuts up when his owners aren't home, and seriously, his owners are never home! And the more noise we make up here, even the very sound of our almost imperceptible breathing, really any wave length of sound emitting from my apartment keeps this dog going like it's related to the damn energizer bunny.

And if it were bunny season... I'm just saying, I'm completely ready with my insanity plea.

Which is why I'm sitting here, typing all this with my earphones in (as I am wont to do when I'm writing) to block out the sound of the baying wonder mutt and because I was looking for a reason to stay up just a bit longer listening to my new Eagles CD though that may be more to do with the pot of coffee I made earlier that's got me more wired than tired.

But seriously, I already know I'm going to regret whatever time it will be that I go to bed tonight, and the alarm I'm going to ignore in the morning. I am however about to go catch the last few minutes of Project Runway before the songs on this CD pull on any more of my heart strings, that for the sake of my sanity aren't in any need of plucking right now.

Of course now that the neighbors are home, and the dog has gone mute, the volume on their TV is so loud, I might as well be sitting on their couch sharing a bowl of popcorn... And if there's one thing I know, I hate popcorn on almost any occasion.

Going to bed with earplugs...

Cleaning Up Clutter

Tidying up a bit has kept me unpleasantly occupied these past few hours. Still a distraction - even when it requires getting your clean on - is a far better companion than that of silence. And perhaps silence is telling me I've one more towel to throw into that proverbial wash cycle of life regardless of how many times I've attempted to hear and yet ignore that message.

Chalking this one up to nary a clue

Stacey... Over, out and off to bed...

An Odd Assortment

Emma got wind that Tavi made the blog pages last week and has put up such a fuss, that I'm giving in to her demands and posting (for your viewing pleasure) Emma sacking out on the forbidden couch. Forbidden as in no cat is supposed to even think about looking at it, let alone being on it... Of course, what they do when I'm gone, or truth be told even when I'm here, happens to be pretty much one and the same.

In other news, I picked up pictures today from this weekends "animalfest" at church... Not exactly finger licking good, but these chickens have still got it going on.
I also believe I promised something about posting that picture of my Dad and his lawn mowing buddy... I've heard of dueling banjos, but dueling lawn mowers may be a bit much. Still it is ridiculously cute. Live action however is much better, as this shot didn't do any justice to all the big cheesy grins and the high fiving that was going on. Of course, if my Dad caught wind that I was posting this picture on here he'd have a total meltdown and I'd be grounded...
Speaking of my Pops, ever since they brought home their new dog Isabella (with so many middle names I can't even begin to remember them all) it's all KC has been talking about. So if any of you out there know of anyone willing to make her wish come true with a free (note the word FREE as there is no way on earth I will ever pay as much as they did for this dog) Miniature Italian Greyhound, y'all just let me know...

A Few Of My Favorite Things

Sometimes when you're feeling a bit nostalgic, it's good to remember the little things in life that make you smile and give you joy...

Here are just a few of mine. Perhaps if you have a moment, you might share a few of yours.

A good book.

Snowflakes.

A warm and snuggly quilt.

Spending an afternoon with a friend.

Laughter.

Decorating for Christmas.

Family.

Hot cocoa.

Making someone smile.

Crafting with kids. (Before the tug of war starts with the supplies.)

A quiet night with the twinkle of a thousand stars above.

Because You Can...

I'm about to go hang out with some chicks... And some ducks. Possibly some geese and maybe a few rabbits. Most definitely a cow. Perhaps even a llama. There will not however be any water buffalo to contend with, much to my disappointment.

And once again... Someone said, "Sure thing!" when she meant to say, "No way." Proof positive that I've really got to practice on my just say no skills before Nancy Reagan begins to think I'm completely hopeless... All kidding aside, if I am going to say yes to something, a good cause is always worth my time. And it does have a way of making me thankful - yes, thankful - for all the blessings that I do have.

** After post note **

Bren and I opted to share in the responsibility of donating a flock of chicks today.

If YOU can, and if YOU will, even if you can't do it all on your own, I urge you to give of yourself what you can, if you can... The greatest gift after all is not the one you receive, it's the one you give away.

Heifer International
Be the difference.

Online Gift Catalog
Make a difference.

Nocturnal Noises

There's no reason to go to bed tonight. No where to go tomorrow. Nothing but me, and time to tick, tick away until KC comes home from her Dad's. So it's just me and some music on the grand piano in my mind, bringing down these midnight hours...

I wish I had a story to tell tonight. Not that I'm very much awake to begin to tell a tale. With my eyes barely open, I can barely manage tapping in the words in the order they're determined to go. Motivation without direction without the wherewithal to stay awake much longer.

I like that sentence. Maybe we should say it again.

Motivation without direction without the wherewithal to stay awake much longer.

Maybe this is wanting to be a poem tonight... One moment while I invoke my inner Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Adrienne Rich, and Louise Gluck... When the sentence wants to become a poem, one can only follow where it demands us go.

We'll start again...

Motivation without direction
without the wherewithal to stay awake much longer. She is easily distracted
and cannot form a thought that doesn't have something to do
with the things she said she wasn't going to
talk about anymore.
The things she said she wasn't going to do.

She shrugs her shoulders, smiles and gives a laugh.
Marks herself down for a point against herself and
decides to go to bed.

Mouse Hunt

My cat is stalking the linen closet. And honestly, I'm getting a little concerned that there just may be something I might not want to know about in there because tonight is the second night Tavi has stationed herself right outside its door.

My worst fear is that somehow a mouse could have crawled up the heating duct and is now hiding out - or at least attempting to hide out in the closet. And as much as I know I need to just suck it up, put on my Nancy Drew cap and take a look, I so don't want to know.

Because if I know and if I find something (a) I will scream and (b) I'll have no choice but to deal with it and D-Con is not a viable option.

Updates to follow on the possible mamalmas rodentia outbreak... (And no, those aren't real words - at least as far as I can tell, but I liked the sound of them.)

Happy Birthday To Me

So... It's my birthday. And that being said, I've know reached the point in my life where I have to actually say I'm thirty-three.

Eeeew... I don't like typing that, let alone saying that...

I'm going to have to re-think this enjoying my birthday as a national holiday thing. And really, that being said, shouldn't I be able to skip work today?

Outrageous Beauty

I am making muffins to take to church. Making muffins because for some stupid reason, every time someone sticks a sign-up sheet in front of my face, I lose all my ability to pass it on and say the word no. In other words, if there's a sucker born every minute, I may as well keep my hand raised up for the duration.

The problem is I'm at war with my own beliefs... Because I am one of those people who believe in the best of people.

I believe because I want to believe that each one of us truly does have the kind of qualities necessary to redeem ourselves at the end of the day. I believe because I have seen outrageous beauty in people who claim they are uglier than the ugliest person of all. I believe because I believe in this little thing called hope and hope has made me a believer that truth and beauty were created to be as one. But I believe most of all because I need to believe that there will come a day when someone will see all of this in me, even on the days when I don't see any of this in myself.

But I would be lying if I didn't say that there are those who walk among us who will prove my theory wrong. Prove it grievously wrong time and time again. Measuring their joy by the number of your tears, by how many times your soul cries out with a keening wail. It is hard to see, let alone admit that there could be any beauty left to exist in these kind of people. Those that choose to take and not give back. Those that will promise but breach their promises time and time again. Those that will raise their voice as well as their hand in anger. The kind that will push you away and still long to keep some part of you near. And they will take, and continue to take just as long as you bleed with your willingness to give.

And I am the kind of person who doesn't know when it's time to stop giving more than she can take. Born with the belief that everything on earth needs saving, from the orphan bird fallen from the nest high up in the tree, to the man who doesn't know how and in truth doesn't want to put the alcohol away.

It turns out I can't save everyone... And there are days I don't even think I'm doing a good job of saving myself.

There are days I still wake up black and blue with so many bruises on my heart I don't think I'll ever be able to get over them all. There are days when the tears win and my smile fades into obscurity. Days when I just don't feel like getting out of bed. Days when I pray to God to give me strength to move myself through the motions of another day. Nights when I pray to God to explain all that can't be explained. Moments when I know I'm hearing the answer I need to hear and moments when silence is the only sound that doesn't bother to reply.

But I do believe. Believe that inside of each and every one of us, there is still untapped outrageous beauty we're meant to share with the world... Share with each other.

Good Things

Good and unexpected things can come from having a flat tire. Like leaving work early on a Friday afternoon.

And I feel at peace. Content. A feeling I've been missing for so long. And I want to smile and laugh, and call my friends and say, "I think I found myself today at Barnes and Noble. I think I found myself today while I was walking all alone out in the cold. I think I found myself today when I smiled and it wasn't a fake smile. I think I found myself over a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a french baguette. I think I found myself and oh my God, I didn't even realize that I've been missing..."

And what I'm not going to do is negate this feeling. No staying at home and settling in for the night with my face in a book while life is living it up all around me...

Not me. Tonight I'm going to surround myself with friends, good conversations and wish myself some pre-birthday wishes for my thirty-third year here on Earth...

Restaking A Claim For Balance

Balance.

Without it my life topples over. And I forget just how delicate it can sometimes be. Temperamental like a child. Her eyes defiant and filled with silent words and censure. Drawing the line... Always daring you, cross...

Things get out of place. Little piles here and there. Bills paid and unpaid scattered across the top of the coffee table in the living room, set aside for another time. Another frame of mind. Waiting for a later that doesn't come for weeks.

And the house begins to absorb the confusion you don't see. Closing you in with arms of clutter to hold you tight until you almost feel secure until you remember just how insecure you really are.

It takes a moment of clarity and light. One good lightning strike to wake you from your walking dream. To realize that balance doesn't mean having to get your shit together all at once. It's just one item at a time. One piece of paper filed away. One dirty dish washed and put away. One trip round the coffee table with a dusting cloth. One load of laundry. One bed made in the morning...

Bedtime Bits

I've absolutely nothing to say tonight and the fact that it's bedtime means I'm not even going to try...

Oh well... At least this picture of Octavia - or Tavi as she's generally known about the house came out fairly decent.

Then again, the little neurotic beast never usually sits still long enough to get one.

Off to bed...

Not Making the Most of a Day

Yet another depressingly dull day not spent doing anything worth doing other than hiding out at home pretending I had something valid to do by sticking my nose in a book and waiting - as it seems I've forever waiting now - for my daughter to return home.

And perhaps the thought of this weekend which had been meant to be spent as a family weekend of sorts has only managed to disappoint me more by the fruitlessness of my own expectations when confronted by the reality of what is and continues to be a far cry from any idea of what the word family means in my own personal definition of the word.

I guess I'm just feeling all out of sorts and really not able to put things in perspective today. I'm crying at the drop of a hat, losing my temper over truly insignificant things and feeling altogether most unlike myself that even I don't want to be around me.

I have no words for it anymore that don't seem exhausted and tired and in my case as of late overused.

** And then she gets the brilliant idea to watch a DISNEY MOVIE (for the love of God) like that's going to cheer her up!!! Now I've got more tears, a headache, and yet more proof that Disney's got a thing for orphans...

The movie however - while animated - did have a good message overall... My opinion is watch Meet the Robinson's... Just make sure to keep your Advil and a cold compress on hand.

General Complaints

I'm forcing myself to write something this morning because I haven't felt much like writing at all this week. And I blame the whole time change thing which has set me so off my usual schedule that it's all I can do to keep myself awake after nine. Sad, I know but most unfortunately true...

Of course, on the bright side of the spectrum, I've been awake since six thirty this morning and already I've loaded the dishwasher, picked up KC's endless trail of nonsense in the living room, lit yet some more Partylite candles, fed the cats, and admired the color of the leaves gracing my neighbors lawn in bright reds and golds as snow falls in the smallest of flakes outside.

And I've no doubt that if I were just about twenty-five years younger than I am, I'd be out there right now piling those leaves up high and jumping in. Of course, that's not to say that I wouldn't do it now as I'm known for having more than my share of childish moments. Personally I think this whole growing up thing is way overrated. I mean yes, you can grow up but who among us really wants to? Anyone?

In other news, I get to make lasagna today. I'm almost excited about this but not quite. However in order to honor my family's request, I have taken on the task. Though it should be mentioned that I consider the making of lasagna a big waste of time, possibly because I'm not a big fan of it, and I would rather make something a little bit more complicated and far more delicious... The sensitive pallets of my respective family however has made this a moot point, so lasagna it is. Yay.

But back to this time change thing - which for whatever reason there are still people out there who haven't yet figured out that the whole process of revising time is quite ridiculous really... I'd like to point out a few facts, otherwise known as complaints against it.

JUST BECAUSE IT'S WINTER, DOESN'T MEAN...

We should make it easier to not see a deer on our way home from work. Add on hunting season to that, and it doesn't seem much of a bright idea at all...

I want the sunlight peeping into my bedroom windows encouraging me to do anything I don't already want to do. Waking up being one of those things on any given morning before the hour of nine.

Okay... These two things may be my only complaints although I could have sworn I had more earlier. But honestly can't we just leave well enough alone? I can't be the only one suffering from a confused circadian rhythm. I can't be the only one not still remembering what time it ought to be but isn't...

Bumps On and Off the Road

Another bad day at the office and I'm convinced it might be time to either (a) get off the I can't do it kick and write the novel I always talk about writing or (b) explore career options in other fields because I am (c) burned out and tired of doing what I do when I don't really love what I do at all...

All whining aside however the day started off with a bang, or rather with a thump I should say. Thump being the sound my front bumper made when it hit a metal post which I swear jumped in front of me like it had suicide on its mind. Needless to say I am neither (a) injured (b) thrilled or (c) happy about the new ding on my car. Thankfully however no major damage was done other than the damage to my pride which is pleading the 5th on how it is I managed to ding the damn pole in the first place.

In other news, I read a really great book over the weekend... And no, I'm not going to break it down into a book report for any of you. I will say however that if you're feeling spiritually lost this offers some new insights for getting yourself all pulled back together. And seriously, I'm going back into the book later tonight with an index card so I can write a few thoughts down to keep as reminders.

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

My Excuse For Skipping Church

Were we supposed to change our clocks last night?

I woke up this morning making the conscious decision that staying in bed was a far better idea than going to church and that the novel I had meant to savor and take my time with was worth starting now rather than waiting a few hours of running here, there and everywhere just to get back to this moment. The moment when I decided not to go to church.

And then my phone rings.

Something it has not done a lot of this weekend - though truth be told I was no longer expecting it to, having come to the foregone conclusion that silence is an answer even when it's the wrong way to go about giving one.

That being said Brenda called and I missed the phone call. Missed, as defined as couldn't make up my mind if I wanted to break the news to her that I wasn't going to church and scared that she might try to guilt me into it. And so when it rang, I didn't pick it up. I decided to think about it.

And after thinking about it and subsequently getting very confused over the whole what time is it really thing, I called her back, thankfully to find that we're both on the same page this morning in our decision to stay home.

And yes, I know...

Skipping church is not a good idea even though the book I'm reading is all about one woman's spiritual quest with God... Though quite honestly, in the back of my mind, I've decided that somehow this does count as going to church albeit it's via my couch and my pj's and doesn't include, at least at this point any singing on my part.

Bookworm & Blogging

I was walking around with my nose in a book thinking about making breakfast and I thought of this... Sounds like it just might be the beginning of more thoughts to come.

I want the simple things in life.

Scones in the morning. Tea in the afternoon. Someone to steal the morning paper from so I can read the funnies before he can read the news.

I want the thought of my daughter upstairs asleep nestled in her warm cocoon to relax me and give me peace, while the cats sunning themselves from their bird watching position on the windowsill remind me that making the most out of every opportunity available is the spice of life.

What I really want is Sunday on Saturday morning. A week full of Sunday mornings. To slow down and take my time for little pleasures. No more short cuts to taking the long way around.

Time enough to savor every moment. Every smile. And every laugh.

We shouldn't need a recipe to know how to feel alive. Sometimes though, we need to remember how.

Listening...

I'm getting a little geeked up over these ridiculous Partylite candles I purchased a few weeks ago when my paycheck still felt like it was making a difference in my life. And then I bought these candles, spending far too much money on things I didn't really need but wanted just the same because I wanted my house to smell warm and spicy like a pumpkin pie baking in the oven.

And already, despite the earliness of the hour, my candles are already burning bright, their small flames flickering in beat to a music only they can hear, lighting this semi-darkness of dawn.

As for me, I'm sitting here in my pajamas, with a cat beneath my chair attacking my feet - listening to Dvorak's 1rst Movement from his New World Symphony. A song you can listen to for yourself if you're so inclined to do so by tuning yourself to the bottom of the page as noted in yesterday's post of irrelevant information and clicking on play...

The thing about classical music, at least what I've always loved about it is how so many different instruments can be layered, one on top of the other to create this dynamic movement of sound. This piece in particular is a good representation of a fugue, which can be explained by using simple sentence structure as an example. If I were to say a sentence and then you were to repeat that same sentence in verbatim to me, and then that same sentence was said by someone else, we'd have ourselves what in musical terms would be called a subject and an exposition. In other words, same sentence, different voices.

Or if you want the technical definition...

A fugue opens with one main theme, the subject, which then sounds successively in each voice in imitation; when each voice has entered, the exposition is complete; usually this is followed by a connecting passage, or episode, developed from previously heard material; further "entries" of the subject then are heard in related keys. Episodes and entries are usually alternated until the "final entry" of the subject, by which point the music has returned the opening key, or tonic, which is often followed by closing material, the coda.[4] [1] In this sense, fugue is a style of composition, rather than fixed structure. Though there are certain established practices, in writing the exposition for example,[5] composers approach the style with varying degrees of freedom and individuality.

I may have failed my Music Theory 2 class - because I was a teenager and therefore an obstinate pain in the arse more concerned with being cool and pretending not to care, than I was in writing the final assignment or in this case the music composition required for passing. The point is that even though I did fail, I still passed...

Because at the almost age of 33, I still almost know what I'm talking about and the truth is, I cared enough to listen.

I always have.

Stupid But True

Happy Dsylexic Birthday to me...

I can't help it... Find me a reason to celebrate and I'm on it like white on rice... Or perhaps I should say brown as that's the only color of rice I keep on hand in this house for cooking...

I put some new songs on the song thing at the bottom of the page... I found some of my favorite classical pieces and thought I'd share... Of course listening to them has tempted me to break out my flute and see if I can still remember how to play...

Maybe I'll try that... Just as soon as I get it fixed.

Help, Warmth and Guidance

I spent more than just a few minutes in prayer last night, apologizing as I usually do to God about my extreme lack of diligence and a faith that occasionally flounders when faced with a challenge.

Because every week at bible class the last question they ask of us is to answer when and where we've felt the presence of the holy spirit in our lives. And every week I feel like I'm Morales, from the musical "A Chorus Line" because my answer is always, "Nothing... I haven't felt it yet."

"And I dug right down to the bottom of my soul
To see how an ice cream felt.
Yes, I dug right down to the bottom of my soul
And I tried to melt."

Meanwhile everyone else is saying I've felt it here and I've felt it there and what shouldn't feel like a test is starting to feel like the test I'm failing. And I hate failing more than I hate not having any answer at all...

And so I prayed last night, casting up some of my concerns, making sure I said more prayers for other people than I said for myself just in case God keeps track of little things like that and I asked for help. A little warmth. A little guidance.

Maybe not everyone considers dreams the same way I do, like answers you can only get when you're sleeping and your brain isn't trying to find a way around a problem just because it's a problem that needs to be solved. Dreams are like a slow unwinding of information, conversations you'd have if you never had to worry about saying the wrong thing. Honest questions, honest answers...


And I woke up this morning feeling as if I'd been given the very best gift last night. I asked for help, warmth and guidance... And in my dream, I got my Grandma Angie. A pure and honest combination of all three.

And this feeling I have every time I think of her - which really is every day of my existence - this emptiness that aches deep down to my soul, felt full to the brim with her love. Safe... Like the child I was so long ago, a little girl who slept the weekend nights curled up next to her in bed and didn't need a night light so long as Grandma was right there.

Maybe this is what the holy spirit is... Maybe it's just love in whatever form it chooses to take.

Chi tace acconsente.

I stood outside last night, long after the girls had gone to bed, standing in my doorway listening to the wind chasing the leaves, shaking them from their branches, scattering them down and across the road. Stood there looking for a moon I couldn't see and stars I couldn't place in a darkened night sky, the smell of fall thick on the air like a blanket wrapped snug around my shoulders.

October has always been the season for goodbyes. A time of change that announces itself in a myriad of colors across the valley in which I live before giving itself over to a winter it cannot prevent nor turn away. It is and has always been a rite of passage, a transition of one life into another and somewhere between the beginning and the end there is a story always taking place, the ones we tell and the ones we keep hidden on every page.

Slow Sunday Morning

Sunday morning and I'm skipping church using KC's sleepover last night as an excuse if not an actual reason not to go. Then again I think I pretty much decided yesterday morning when my alarm went off at five that I deserved one morning of sleeping in and actually pretending that this is a weekend meant to be spent away from work.

Still the work I managed to get done yesterday without the constant pressure of a phone beeping away in my ear was well worth the early morning trip in and the four hours I holed myself away in my office finishing reports, digging through my credit files, and rearranging my desk back to its normal configuration from a month or so ago when I moved it around to accommodate a trainee.

That being done, I transferred into the weekend quite smoothly. Not counting of course my almost major melt down in WalMart - dreaded place really - where people all around my area have suddenly forgotten that legs are meant for walking and moving is not an option when you have more than ten people behind you wanting to get somewhere else. And really, what was I thinking anyway? WalMart on a Saturday afternoon? I must have been losing my mind.

I did however promise the girls we'd carve pumpkins... And while they carved, I made dinner. Homemade mac and cheese with a golden layer of bread crumbs coating the top baked along side a dish of chicken brushed with rosemary and other heartwarming herbs that made all our mouths water, and fragranced the house with a pleasing aroma.

After dinner, clean up once again proving itself optional last night I hurried the girls out the door and into the night for a ceremonial pumpkin lighting and a short trip down the road to my friend Sue's house.

And it turns out - as it always does - that I had a great time just being there, talking away and laughing despite my earlier thought of holing up for the night in hope my phone might ring. Life however, as I must constantly remind myself - should never be about waiting on someone else to make it feel right or complete. And it's when I find myself mostly wanting to stay, that I must urge myself to go...

I thought of this last night as I was driving home. How glad I was that I decided to get out of the house, even if that leaving did include taking two children in tow.

Thought Provoking

Do you believe intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe?

Yes 87%
No 13%

I just want to know why we always assume they're going to be intelligent? I mean really... Stupid aliens don't exist?

Then again, I'm not even sure it exists here...

Fiction Speaking Fiction

"Where to?"

"Anywhere," I sighed slumping back against the seat. "Pick a place and we'll just go."

His eyes met mine in the rear view. "You think it's that easy?"

I stared out the window not wanting to watch him watching me. "Depends, I guess. Do you think it can get any worse than this?" I raised my hands as if to encompass everything around me, wishing the warmth from the front could keep me from feeling cold.

"Probably not," he said, his own voice sounding just as weary as mine and I laughed in spite of myself.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. Or trying not to think about really. But you know how that works."

"Thinking when you don't want to think?"

I leaned forward in my seat, and gave him my best sad smile. "Excessively thinking..."

"Excessively worrying you mean," he quipped back, locking his eyes again on mine.

"It's all one and the same," I admitted.

"So stop already," he said, half turning around in his chair. "It is a choice you know."

"And you know how?" I asked.

"No," he said pulling the car over to the side of the road. I fumbled for a moment searching my pocketbook for change, one hand ready on the door, the other gripping my coat around me.

"Me neither." I answered, swinging the door wide open.

"You going to be okay here?" he asked glancing around, a skeptical look on his face, the darkness of a quiet street misleading.

"Right as rain," I murmured. "Right as rain."

Creatively Speaking

I feel like being creative tonight and honestly what I'd rather be doing is coloring in my notebook attempting to make what I think should be but normally don't turn out to be pretty pictures. I do like to try however and sometimes when I stop thinking so much about what I'd like to draw and just let the moment fall upon me, I wind up with something close to being not as bad as you'd think it might be for a woman whose talents are more limited to painting with words and giggling like an idiot during bible study.

Phone Issues

Melman isn't just an answering machine anymore...

He's my flirtatious phone friend. The number I will call whenever the chips are down, or I need that sweet little pick me up to get me through a few more hours of a day. And though I know Melman isn't real despite the dulcet tones of his seductive hello that greeted me earlier this evening when I called, I just can't help myself. He's just so, so.... Ummm... Sweetly not human and yet so darn accessible, anytime - day or night...

And really, it's good to know that I have friends who will let me call their house just to talk to their answering machine and not think I'm totally off my rocker. I mean I am, but it's good to know they don't think that...

Ghosts At Twilight

I watch the geese fly away, press my hands against the cold glass of the window, listening as their echoes drift across the sky and back to me until they're gone; feeling their absence as if I'm the one whose left behind with a handful of wishes that won't come true. And it's always with this sadness I watch them go, taking the warmth of summer days with them on their journey to a home far away from home, wishing they didn't have to leave at all, knowing that they need to go...

And I am reminded of crisp Autumn nights with the smell of snow hovering quietly on the air, the gentle rumblings of bullfrogs hidden in the reeds, crickets in the fields, and the tender sounds of ducks settling down for the night tucked safely away in beds of hay in a doghouse once named for a dog called Ralph.

I couldn't even begin to tell you how many nights I rested my back against the roof of Ralph's House to watch the stars. Or how many times I climbed inside to find comfort in my hiding place. I only know that the thought of it now makes me wish it still existed. Makes me still wish I had somewhere to go... Makes me wish I could fly away.

Puddle Jumping

It's ridiculously early but I feel like going for an early morning walk in the rain to enjoy this silence while it lasts.

And this is just a guess on my part, but I think I'm already regretting my lack of umbrella even before I've gotten myself downstairs and out the door.

Plans Unplanned

Awake and writing. Or at least searching for words to write to clarify the recent change in plans concerning a countdown that mere hours from bringing itself to a close, has found the actual mission itself aborted, at least for the time being...

And there's no doubt that I'm disappointed. And concerned. And over thinking... And trying not to be too much of the previous three; knowing just the same that there's little hope of that at all.

Stepping away for a moment is the only clarity I can think to find. Perhaps it is a mistake on my part to put these words out there, to draw my circle in the sand and say, "This is where I'll be should you decide you'd like to cross my line."

And self-preservation be damned you know. As scary as it is, I'd rather risk the the right risk, than risk nothing at all. And there are people I'd risk all the right things for. And maybe someday, the right person will take that same risk for me.

Inside Out

I don't feel much like talking tonight. And I let the calls roll through to my voicemail, into the void of here but not really here. And I did a lot of thinking, perhaps more so with the conversation in my head than what I actually wrote down on paper. But I did my best to make sense of what little I could make sense of until every last word had had its say or at least every last word that I could think of.

And no, I'm not expanding on this tonight. This one - this one is just for me.

Happiness Sold Separately

As necessary as I know it is, it's still kind of sad to see the for sale sign in front of Gram's house and the house itself listed on the internet.

Oooops

I SO didn't mean to, but I am SO missing church and the alarm that went off this morning didn't even phase me to turn over in my sleep. And I'm starting to think it has something to do with the guest speaker, because every time we have one, I somehow manage to miss going to church.

Oh well, I guess since it is Sunday, and hence a day of rest, I'm going to go back to bed and take at least one thing today seriously...

Searching For Someone To Be

KC and I went shopping earlier for Halloween costumes, or perhaps the more apt description of what we did was browsing as we looked but did not buy. And it's a seriously sad state of existence when you can't find a single costume for a kid that not's completely inappropriate in one way or another. Costumes for kids should be fun, fairy tales and fantasy things but sexy? Never...

And I had to send KC back to the dressing room quite a few times with the answer of no, not in this lifetime on my lips because Little Red Riding Hood looked more like Little Red Riding Ho and that just wasn't going to happen... At least not on my watch.

And of course I am so unfair and just don't understand it's what all the kids will be wearing and really, do I need to be so overprotective, I mean do you know what insert any random friend's name here are letting HER be for Halloween?

Sigh... I miss the days of Jessie, the all girl cowgirl.

Feeling the Fall

I am thinking thoughts I don't want to have tonight and as much as I try to shake the memories from my mind, they wrap themselves around me like blankets I cannot bear to keep round my shoulders.

And it's just me and this darkness and these demons all trying to keep warm on a night cold soaked with rain.

Asleep and Dreaming

I go to bed early... I have dreams all night, one in which included a guest appearance of Bobby Brown batting his eyelashes and crooning away on a stage set that looked suspiciously similar to the Price Is Right. Which as far as I'm concerned, fell more into the realm of just so wrong...

Wrong being continued on into the next movement which I have entitled the dare to keep kids off drugs portion of my dream and starts somehow with me being conned to watch a group of school kids in what appears to be an airport lounge. Now here's the odd thing... This one kid comes up to me, says he needs to use the bathroom and asks me if I'd keep an eye out for him. Now me in parental mode despite the fact that what I really am is asleep and completely unconscious to the world says sure, and proceeds to guard the door to the bathroom with the ferociousness of a mother bear when it occurs to me that the kid has been in there a really, really long time.

But I think to myself hey, he's in a pervert free bathroom, what harm could there be in letting him have his quality time if really needs it. And then I smell that smell. The smell that wafts under the door and into my memory banks. That same smell that made me the patsy standing guard at the door...

And so I go in, and the next thing I know my dream turns into a nightmare and there are these four teenage boys flushing joints down the drain left and right. Not really sure which part I want to classify as the nightmare, the boys smoking it, or the flushing of it part... But either way, I tell them to stay put because I am so getting their parents.

Back to the airport lounge, I half hide myself at the corner of a wall and begin doing the whole pssst, I'm trying to get your attention, could you please come over here thing. The main "leader" parent looks over at me, raises her eyebrows in a you need me now exasperated kind of way and then continues on with her lecture of vigilance and virtue and at this point bullshit.

My whispers get a little louder and soon I loose the whole have to hide behind the corner thing and come right out into the open until finally, the high priestess looks right at me and says, "What?"

"I need you to come here," I tell her, "Quickly." The woman moves like molasses. "A little quicker," I implore again. She moves even slower. Finally I've no choice but to shout out my request, "Quickly. As in moving yourself in my direction with utmost haste and agility." Because as we all know, or at least I know, shouting the defintion of a word is the only true way to motivate someone.

That being said, I'm up early this morning, because I have errands to run before work and now that I've wasted an hour of my time to write all this down and will surely pay for it by having to rush now like the proverbial chicken with her head cut off, it's time for me to fly this coop.

Impressions

It's hard to think with KC honking on her oboe in a way she's more than well aware is only grating on the nerves like nails scraping across a chalk board. And I am quite convinced that she only knows how to play at one level, otherwise known as loud.

My head is spinning after a day like today. And I can't help this feeling of being pushed off balance. Something is nagging at me and I haven't a clue what it is other than maybe my own insecurities which have adamantly refused to put themselves at ease. Then again if there was ever a time when they were at ease it must have been back in a time that I'm unable to remember...

But I don't want to go running away this time. I don't want to chicken out and give up before I've even begun. I don't want to push too hard, or hold back too much or give the wrong impression while I'm struggling to simply just be me.

Breathe Stacey... Just breathe.

Maintaining North

Circling back to the fall, hues of Autumn painted in the trees, fallow fields flashing by, counting down miles, counting down time.

Hands on the steering wheel holding tight, passing cars passing me, thinking too much, trying not to think at all. Moving things around my mind.

Brisk, cold wind pushes against the car with me inside. Foot on the gas with eyes straight ahead. Strength beyond metal and the motion of the road. I will go only in the direction I will go.

Less Thinking, More Doing

There are days when I wish I could still feel as unlimited as the kid I used to be. The one who didn't think twice when presented with the option to ride around on her kick and go wearing an Indian headdress and a plastic green cape.

Maybe it's time to start remembering how...

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Bren...

Pretending Patience

Sitting here with a silly smile on my face, biting my lip to keep from laughing. In good company with good thoughts, eagerly anticipating the darkness that the night will bring.

And I am giddy... Filled with joy.

The calendar above my head, circled and starred counting down...

Seventeen days, and only four more hours to go...