Arachne's Loom

2011 Tough Enuff to JUMP! (1st Annual)

2010-09-20T20:53:00.005-06:00

So... many people say, "gosh, I wish there was something I could do." Well gosh, me too. Now one of my best friends got off her butt & IS actually doing something - not just for us, but for MDA too, & it's all her own idea. I am so thankful and proud of her I could bust my buttons :)

2011 Tough Enuff to JUMP!
1st Annual Canine Dock Jumping Event
Saturday April 30 10:00a - 5:00p
Purina Farms - Grey Summit, MO
Sponsored by Purina Farms and Team Tough Enuff
50% of proceeds go to MDA
50% of proceeds go to help with B's ongoing medical expenses
...
$25 per entry, 40 entries allowed per jump
Jumps at 10a, 12a, 2p, Finals (top 8) 4p
Divisions: 0-9.11 / 10–14.11 / 15-19.11 / 20-and up
Payouts per division: 1st-20%, 2nd-15%, 3rd-10%, 4th-5%

Donations are being accepted for items/services to be raffled off the day of the event.

To register your dog(s) to jump, receive more information about the event as it becomes available, or to offer sponsorship or donations, please send your contact information and inquiry to: ToughEnuff4B@hotmail.com.

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About MDA: The Muscular Dystrophy Association supports more research on neuromuscular diseases than any other private-sector organization in the world. 43 diseases are covered under MDA's umbrella, providing not only research towards treatment and cures, but also helping affected individuals and families with necessary medical assistance and equipment. MDA receives NO state or federal funding - all funding is garnered through fundraisers and private and corporate sponsorships.

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About Friedreich's Ataxia: Friedreich’s ataxia (FA) is a debilitating, life-shortening, degenerative neuro-muscular disorder. About one in 50,000 people in the United States have Friedreich's ataxia. Onset of symptoms can vary from childhood to adulthood. Childhood onset of FA is usually between the ages of 5 and 15 and tends to be associated with a more rapid progression. Late onset FA (LOFA) can occur anytime during adulthood.

Signs and Symptoms:

* loss of coordination (ataxia) in the arms and legs
* fatigue - energy deprivation and muscle loss
* vision impairment, hearing loss, and slurred speech
* aggressive scoliosis (curvature of the spine)
* diabetes mellitus (insulin - dependent, in most cases)
* a serious heart condition (enlarged heart - hypertrophic cardiomyopathy)

There is currently neither cure nor treatment for FA, but with your help, we're working on it!

Our Deepest Fear

2010-03-29T12:05:00.000-06:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us..We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is ... See Morenothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles,"

Update, September 2009

2009-09-18T14:03:00.003-06:00

And again, a year has passed since last I penned these Hallo!-halls. Once again, a year filled with everythings & nothings. Nothings for me, the woman. Everything for me, the mom.

In December of 2008, my daughter was diagnosed with Friedreich's Ataxia. FA is a genetic, degenerative neurological disorder. Currently, there is no treatment, there is no cure. There is no guarantee as to progression. There is only a 'wait and see' and daily, a sharper yet more poignant appreciation of things we mostly take for granted. Like walking. And talking. And swallowing. And healthcare. I may post more about FA later, if I come back here any time soon. There's certainly plenty to read if you just do a simple google search. Suffice it to say that the last 9 months have been ... interesting.

Yesterday, she came home & said she wanted to try out for cheerleading. Just try out. She has absolutely no expectations of actually making it -- she just wants to try. Please, mom? Good for her! God, kids are amazing. MY kid is amazing.

Today's Prayer

2008-09-19T17:09:00.004-06:00

Dear God,
Just let me be happily naked as often as possible. It can't get much better than that. Amen.

Thursday 09/11/2008

2008-09-11T01:03:00.003-06:00

omg.. someone posted a comment. Now if I only knew who. Frustrating, that.

Has it really been so long? and then... has it really not been that long at all? Nearly a year since my last post. I almost forgot I had a blog. Two years since my world crumbled in upon itself and my soul followed. Two years languishing in some very deep wells of depression that seem to be finally beginning to even out into at least a lighter sort of grey. When I did remember I had a blog, I very nearly came out to erase everything, to make it much as though it had never been as possible. That would have been the second step towards erasing myself. But then, what is a year, after all? Time is such a subjective creature. Part of me has worked very hard at putting as much distance as possible between myself and everything around me. Part of me has worked very hard at eliminating passion, any sort of it, from proximity. I've done much to let the edges of time blur and fade in the last couple of years.

It has worked, to some extent. I have discovered that I tick on passion, & when there is no spark of 'something' in my life, I can put a whole lot of my Self on a shelf to gather dust. Not much of me is necessary to tick through the daily grind after all. Time has rushed by in a cacaphony of endlessly boring days and nights that never seemed to end. My efforts to make them blur and fade into nothing have for the most part been successful in the long run regardless of whatever agony I may be dealing with in the present.

Memory cannot be counted upon, I need visual reminders to keep them clear. There are very few pictures to remember the last 2-3 years. There has been very little, if any, writing. There have been some minor events, and some people, but with neither pictures nor writing, they have, will, and are fading & disappear quickly. I take a bitter sort of lonely revenge from that. People I've loved, people I wanted to capture in sight, in sensation forever, have shunned my camera... asked me to leave it put away. Now, as I watch my memories of them & their moments begin to fade in my head, I feel a bitter sense of sorrow.. regret.. and I told you so. I won't be able to remember the good times, because you did not encourage or permit me to capture them. And now I don't much care whether I capture anything at all. Let it go. Let the moment go on by. Let the memory fade. No pictures. Any joy we had will eventually be eclipsed by sorrow, so there's nothing here worth remembering anyway. Ha ha.. so there.

I'm just a freakin' ray of sunshine, aren't I? Not a very nice 'hello' after such a long absence. I probably shouldn't have gone back & read all those old posts before I started typing this at 3am. After all, I'm terribly susceptible to mood & suggestion. Even more so than I used to be. Comes with being more fragile. Tell you what... how's about I go get some sleep & try again tomorrow? Or in another day or two? There have been a few bright & lovely spots I was actually capable of noticing, especially in the last couple of months. Perhaps I can dredge up the wherewithal to post something pleasant or at the very least, better crafted for you. For me.

I know I have a story bit I could share. Just poured out of me this last week. Not happy, but certainly more full of energy. Feels strange to write again. Feels strange to feel something worth writing about. Kinda scary. Kinda familiar. Going to bed....

D.O.T.

2007-11-14T13:38:00.000-06:00

Quiet.
My house is quiet.
It rang with laughter
not so long ago
Love thrummed in every corner
echoing my heart
The sound of happy humming
ghosted in the corners floated gently
vibrations like dust motes in sunlight
Now it is quiet.
The tears too are quiet - silent
and all my own, unshared
After all,
how many times can you talk about what hurts
before noone cares
but you?
They just roll their eyes and think,
"Haven't you healed by now?"
Better silent runnels
marking damage over time
Hide me, please, little house.
I have nowhere else to go.

Nobody Realizes It's Even a Question

2007-05-14T09:48:00.000-06:00

So now you have time! A space of time that is - at least in theory - all yours. Recently vacated, not yet filled with anything else specific, it looms before you both a promise and a threat. You've worked hard for this for a very long time, reached your goal, celebrated, graduated. Huzzah!! You will soon put foot on the next scholarly path again for a short while, to get the title that follows the degree... but the important question really comes here. Now. And you must address it inside yourself now, or you will be left with an uncomfortable nagging sensation of wasted time, of some little uncomfortable failure that you don't want to look at head on but nevertheless feel it nibbling at you. Here is the question: What do I do NOW? Not only, "what is the next goal when these are completed", but more importantly, right now. Today. Tomorrow. What will I do with the next set of moments that I would have filled with study or worry or fret or planning for when on earth will I do that next thing? And (in the tiniest voice possible way in the back of your subconscious), what will I use now as a valid excuse when what I really want is time for myself and yet don't feel as though I have quite the right to take it when other people around me clamour, cry, need, crave & demand something from me every second that I breathe?

It's more of a quandry than one might think... the use of time. Far more so for someone who is accustomed to cramming full every tiny crack & crevass that they can possibly locate simply so they can try to fit everything in. Free time is dangerous. Desired, yearned after, cherished... but still dangerous.

Once you've got the title (a huge goal, but tiny in terms of time & the path you've already walked), the path you have before you now is empty for a stretch. No other big, life-altering goals with concrete beginnings & endings ahead of you. No tangible hang-it-on-the-wall reward at the end. Really, therefore, no end. Or no end in sight. Makes it harder to plan for. But plan you must. Because the choice... the pitfall that I know you sense just before you... is that of doing nothing. If you do not define the space in any way, you will find yourself filling it with nothings. Laundry, dishes, mowing the lawn, putting gas in the car, frittering with the bills, watching TV, playing pointless games with or without other people. Those things fill "nothing" mighty damn quick, & leave no sense of substance behind them. Many of them are necessary but they are still very empty moments. And make no mistake, they do fill! These things that over the last couple of years you have managed to squeeze into cracks & crevasses... and still get done! ... will expand to fill hours and hours of your day if you but give them the space to do so. They can quickly & easily become all that you do. In the moment, you will feel satisfied, fulfilled. Task completed, job done (til tomorrow). And then, if you have let them expand, then in some moment in the future you will look back & think, "Wow... what on earth did I DO with all that time?" The answer, sooner or later, will haunt you: Nothing. Simply nothing. And not a good nothing, or a resting nothing, or a break-from-the-world nothing, just a dull, boring, mundane nothing that failed utterly to change the world - not the world at large, not your world, not the world of the people you care the most about. Not even in the tiniest way. Nothing.

There are other kinds of nothing with which you could fill that space. And that is what I am suggesting to you. Do fill it with nothing. Deliberately. Precisely. Fill it up full so the edges of it press outwards & keep all the piddly stuff from intruding. Make this a space for YOU. Reach inside yourself, open it up to fill that space, & make it yours. Make this a space for the "nothing" with a living silence. Peace. Balance. Fill it with spirit and thought and space and light and love... and nothing else. Go into that zen garden inside your own soul and do some tending. And some meditating. And some just plain appreciating what's there. You've left it alone long enough, & there are some weeds poking in around the edges... contemplate them, then remove them with love & warmth when you've embraced their fullness.

Make no mistake... this special sort of nothing I think you should tag this time with is harder to work at, harder to demand, harder to maintain, and harder to keep than any other goal you can ever conceive of. It will make you sweat. And cry. It will create disturbances deep within you both before and after you thought you found joy. It will have ripple effects in your life & in the lives of the people you know. Others will resist you using your time for "nothing", because so few understand that a void can be filled with silence that is really Something. And you... you of all people will have the hardest time holding on to it, because everyone's needs are greater & more important than yours. Or so you think. So you live your life. Well, I'm telling you now, again, & forevermore whenever you need to hear it.... if you are going to fill the needs of others, you must first fill those of yourself. You have been robbing yourself, feeding your soul on the fly, running from one person's crisis to another for a very long time. You define yourself by it. You are very good at it. You are very good at filling yourself up fast... enough... to make it to the next crisis... but even if in tiny increments, it takes its toll, and the Piper is calling.

You have time. You don't know what to do with it. Do nothing. Do Nothing for yourself, as well as for everyone else you love, and put your whole heart into doing it right.

I Love You.
--Me.

It's a Hard Thing

2007-05-08T10:23:00.000-06:00

It's a hard thing
when the person you have to fight the hardest
Is yourself

I'll fight for you
What we have is worth fighting for
You're a grand Taj Mahal
& life without you
might even not be worth having
But

It's a hard thing
when the person you have to fight the hardest
Is yourself

We all come with
hurts & scrapes & bruises
Broken hearts & busted lives
Lives we've lived
Or been told like stories
or just surprized with,
the way Life sometimes does.
You find something that you think
is worth believing in (if you're lucky)
But

It's a hard thing
when the person you have to fight the hardest
Is yourself

Something that ought to be so simple:
Loving you.
Trammelled by proxy
or some junk last week or years ago
Or dreams that lift you higher
Than anyone wants to fly
inconsiderate somethings
and indifferent nothings
Still, none of them are worth saying goodbye
But

It's a hard thing
when the person you have to fight the hardest
Is yourself.

It ain't always good,
and it ain't always simple
Eggshells and heartshells and
Heady passions
cushioned in everyday nothings
That could fill the empty ache deep inside
Absence makes the heart grow... empty
it ought to be easy
and it never is
all I can say is it's worth it to keep trying
as long as you're not trying alone.
Hold on to whatever you can
Take whatever you have to
But

It's a hard thing
when the person you have to fight the hardest
is yourself.

I gotta have you here somewhere
to help me keep our hearts together
'cause it's a very hard thing
when the person you have to fight the hardest
Is yourself.

When You Can't Find Any of Your Own, Find Some for Someone Else

2007-04-23T17:07:00.000-06:00

Amy,
For all of my memory's lifetime, I have had a fascination with rocks. As a little child, I came in the house with pebbles carefully selected from the gravel driveway and my Mom made me put them back. In my teen years, I collected rocks every time we traveled anyplace...just little ones of course. When I was in college, there was a rock along side of sidewalk where I walked to class and once in awhile, I would stand on top and play "King of the Mountain" in my mind. When Graham and I went to England and I was introduced to the 'shingle' beaches, I loaded my pockets so full, it was not possible to sit down, much to Graham's amusement and he informed me, "No way could I carry them home in my luggage". Then after I had a home of my own, I wanted a ROCK! A big rock! A rock that SAID something. But alas, rocks were heavy, hard to mow around, in the way or in front of the irrigation system, expensive, not available locally, etc. etc. etc. and I could never convince anybody of the NEED to own a rock. At last, here I am in my 70th year and it took the bravado of my first born daughter to bring me a rock (disguised as a bench of course but then frequently treasures come in disguise). I need a rock that sighs of permanence and peace. A rock that shouts "Here I make my stand". When I look out my kitchen window, it's aura shimmers at me. I love the soft blue of the material from which God carved this stone. It is the color of water and wind and old fashioned sprinkling cans and my grand daughter's eyes. I love having this rock. I love my daughter for having the brashness to buy it and haul it up here in a vehicle really not equipped for hauling such loads. Graham said no matter how much we might have admired it, we would never have contemplated BUYING this bench because our reasoning would have been, "it's too heavy for us to manage, we have no way of hauling it, It's too expensive, it's too late in our life to fully enjoy it"....!!! Bah humbug ... I think I will just go dance on it's warm and welcoming surface and embrace the joy. Love Mom.

It told ME it was a ripe juicy peach. Sneaky rock. Love, Amy.

Memories of Tomorrow

2007-03-08T09:03:00.000-06:00

When I was little, I went with my Grandpa to Ellisville for the Spoon River Drive weekends every year. One year - I was probably about B's age - a little theatre group took up residence above the place they served buffets for the Drive participants on those weekends. I don't remember what they were performing, although I suspect it might have been Godspell, but definitely a local-quality production. This was an intimate little space they made into a theatre, clapboard walls & bare wood floors. Dust motes would float across the room on sunbeams through a couple of little windows on one side of the room. They set up folding chairs for an audience that can't have ever numbered more than 15 or 20 at a time, & they had no stage, only an extra light or two to make a spot.

I thought they were magic. I thought I'd never heard anything more beautiful than hearing those voices come into harmony. I'd never seen anything more magical than watching those ordinary people become something wholly different & unique when they came together. The first night or two I watched them, utterly spellbound. They made me believe in their story. They made my soul leave where it sat & yearn to be with them. I came away singing their songs & begging Grandpa for another dollar to go see them again. I sat in on all their rehearsals, a little mouse in a corner with big eyes, drinking it all in. By about the third show, I knew all their songs. I knew the choreography, the movements, the very emotions they were trying to create. I was so enraptured, so enthralled and so caught up in the magic they made me believe in that one afternoon I got up from my seat, took my own small place in the aisle, and did the entire performance with them. They thought it was cute that first time. And the second. And the third. They petted me & praised me & made me part of their little troupe, & for the rest of the Drive they made my little spot in the aisle part of the show. They invited me to eat with them, helped me with makeup, told me I was making their ticket sales go up, made sure I was going to be there, gave me some little nothing of a costume... I was in heaven. Making magic like that happen with other people was something I'd never even known could happen before!

All the next year I hoped & prayed they'd be back when Spoon River Drive came 'round again. I practiced every song, every movement, did everything I could to make my voice stronger & more true. Grandpa & I always got there at least a day early to set up the popcorn wagon & get a good place for the camper, & by the time the first weekend came I was in an absolute fever of anticipation. Friday came & went & they weren't there... I was unbelievably sad. Then, Saturday, there was the sign on the window!

It was the same show, but a few different people were with the group this year, and I soon learned, a wholly different attitude. When I appeared on Saturday afternoon for the show, excited, flushed, pumped, ready & anticipating once again... magic... the one or two I knew well from the year before looked embarrassed when I talked to them, brushed me off as being too busy to talk, maybe later... and the rest... they looked at me as though I was just any other annoying little kid. But hey - the show must go on, right? I knew where I belonged. I knew my place, I knew my part.

After the first show someone went & asked Grandpa to not let me come any more because I was bothering them. I was distracting people from the real show. I didn't understand... I thought I was part of the real show. I thought I was a bonus... that my being there made it better.. or else, why would they have said that before? Why else would they have made me part of their little family last year? I was too young to understand the possibility that they'd just exploited me as a sideshow act, and once I grasped that, then still too young to understand the kinder possibility that they had really loved having me there, but the dynamic had changed with the passing year, or with the change in cast members. I was far, far too in love with them to think that enjoying something for the moment doesn't mean you want it forever.

The rest of the Drive that second year was miserable. I never got to go see them perform again. I begged & pleaded to at least get to say goodbye before they left, and late Sunday afternoon after the last show Grandpa finally relented. I went running pell mell, pudgy legs flying as fast as they could carry me across the street & up the stairs to the little theatre, but they had already left. They never came back to Ellisville during the Drive again. There was nothing left of all that magic but a little girl with tears tracking down a dirty face in an empty room with folding chairs stacked against the wall.

Now.. which child.. from which seed do you think I should have grown to become who I am today? The one who believed so strongly in the beauty and magic that she saw that she had no choice but to try to become a part of it? The one who in that first year believed so strongly that she made the others believe too, creating something new & different in the process? The one who the second year cried, tiny, miserable, defeated, standing alone & lonely in an empty room not understanding how all her hard work, all her belief in the magic she'd been shown could be not wanted, could be wasted, discarded and unworthy? The one that finally, eventually understood what had happened... and spent years feeling nothing but shame at her own temerity that she'd ever gone at all where she was not really wanted?

Which one would you choose to be... if you had that choice?
Yeah... that's what I chose, too.

Why Bother?

2007-03-08T05:03:00.000-06:00

Lookee there.. on the way to trying to find a way to sleep... which route took me through a thorny little something else... I found a piece of an answer to a question that has long stood unanswered: Why do I write? More than once someone has asked me... why do you do so much on paper? If there are all these deep feelings, why are you writing them instead of talking them?

Look what I found: Why? Because you're not here! You (whoever the 'you' at that particular bump in the road might have been) weren't here. In review, I realize I really don't have much writing at all - of the kind in question - from relationships of any kind when those people were really present in my life. When they were really here, it wasn't so much that there was less to write about as that we lived it instead. They were here. I could reach out and touch them as a thought first began, sometimes they saw it before I did, & then they were there through the growing of it... no need to tell them about it all over again, unless it was to capture it in one place, like a snapshot to remember. To cherish. A picture of words to put in a photo album of life worth remembering. There's an old adage about not letting the sun set on your anger... I figured that should be extended to most feelings... but when the co-conspirator of those feelings isn't present & accounted for - either physically or emotionally - that's hard to do. "Here" means where I can touch you. Connect. See you. Know whether you smell like anger.. or fear... or safety and reassurance.. or rejection. See whether the muscles get all tensed up in your shoulders drawing you inward or your jaw clenches or your brow furrows... or whether your body is open to me, relaxed, inviting -- rules of body language: whither the body goeth, the mind and heart follows! Sense whether you're hearing me or thinking about something completely unrelated. Have some sort of idea about whether 'now' is a good time. Know whether you are fully present or distracted by work.. or kids.. or school.. or TV... Have clues about where & whether we agree, talk about where we differ.

Rather than let the grace of being in the feeling, in the moment flee... rather than letting clarity and courage pass & become clouded like a forgotten dream, I write. It is my way of bringing you back to here. If I can't reach out to wake you... if I can't reach out a hand to touch you, or if I can't get you to hear the beating of my heart, perhaps I can at least create words that might bring you back to where I am at the moment I write it. And then maybe, if we're lucky, it will be worth finding a way to make work.. and school... and kids.. and TV give us enough peace to try to recreate 'now'. Dial back the sun so that it never went down without making the day right between us.

That's not the only reason, of course, I've written about other bits before - cowardice, pride, fear, overflowing, a need to organize chaotic thought, a way to get all the way through a piece without being interrupted, or derailed, a way to let you 'hear' when you're ready to hear, a desire to be complete & clear in a way I can never manage when I speak - but the concept of you simply not being here an elusive important piece I hadn't quite connected before. I talked about it a lot, felt it more... but never really connected it to this question. And I know that this solution - writing instead of talking - isn't perfect, but substitutes rarely are. That would be why they're substitutes.

You can't really dial back the sun. But sometimes you have to take the best substitute you can dig up.

Great Quotes 02/24/2007 or thereabouts

2007-02-24T19:07:00.000-06:00

"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they are okay, then it's you." -Rita Mae Brown

"We take turns. They're ok...it's just my turn.

.... A lot." --(A)Moi

Say Hello

2007-01-28T20:04:00.000-06:00

I love the way you dream
Full & rich & thick
like the scent of fresh ground coffee beans
bold
grabbing me up in the unapologetic aromas
of your enthusiasm
carrying me along
daring me to feel it
as though if you just
think it intensely enough
I will get swept up
and dream it too
You may not be wrong.
There is a lot going on
in the world of my emotions
things that precurse your arrival
But I am very susceptible to marketing.

Doppelganger

2007-01-28T17:33:00.000-06:00

And you.
I know you... or part of you
and you know me... or part of me
pieces of us recognize each other
like looking in a mirror
Doppelganger speaks
stubborn pride
fire
passion
fierce and silent pain
strength
knowledge of ages
something deep & timeless & knowing
that you just can't explain
knowing about people
and need
We both know how love
can just spring to life
unbidden
how wanting is endless
and reassurance aches
poignant
necessary
how most often loving is
just that millisecond off
over and over through centuries
and yet

we both believe just enough
in the one in thousands of times
that it's just that millisecond on
even while we wrap our logic
around probability
some stubborn tiny spark in our souls
whispers
possibility. magic. forever.
I don't love you
now
I ache with knowing how that feels
with knowing how hope hurts
even while expectation nods as though it knew
how wanting fills you like water
and more, with knowing how
knowing that one will survive through
disappointment hurts more
a lifetime more
I know how bleakness & empty
stretch most painfully forward
into an eternity of tomorrows
Yet all I can offer you right now
is logic
Any passion I felt.. I feel..
- Oh, yes, I felt it -
is banked
buried under heaps of ash so deep
I don't know if embers for you still burn
Or how deeply they are buried
I cannot gauge their fire
Desire... affection... need...
Vital things, needing things,
I can't give them to you.
now
even when I know how & why you need them

It is cold logic I have... cold comfort
about how simple being together is so easy
in the few moments we've had
more of those - with no expectations -
would be a lovely way to begin to stretch time
I could give you those small easy moments
if you were here... at least those
easy to talk.. and that's no small thing
easy to touch...
and you wanting me.. no small thing either
being brave enough to say so
and brave enough to hear no
we could be oh so prickly stubborn might not work
yet it could be such an interesting adventure
possibilities lie divergent: cold, stony
rich & full
I am certain, not ever uninteresting

But once simple passion & desire
go beyond.. to love... well,
the tentacles of love that I grow
grow deep. They are not plug & play
and the people I let in, I let in deep
so deep there is no bottom
fathoms upon fathoms of caring
they intertwine, all the different sorts of them
one kind of love twisting into the next
until separating them becomes impossible
that deep, & I never stop wanting them
never stop needing them there needing me back
Easier to never feel one or another kind of love
if it's going to go away,
and it hasn't been so long ago
that I hoped.. again... in something that would never go away
that it would grow a lifetime - blooms & thorns together
but green & growing & full of all the sorts of magic
we have been pouring into it
Funny how fear begats fear
How asking for something
stating what you need
so often gives you
exactly the opposite of what you ask
not funny-ha-ha, of course

Perhaps I fear for nothing,
and then sureness in what I've already invested
might return
providing you & I more fragrant paths
but time ticks
Pendulum heavy swings back... and forth..
scores of shallow slices weeping bits of self
and with each swish, I hear more loudly
the ever more desperate beat of my heart
in the darkness of this silence
which surrounds me ever more deeply
the voices I hear, beloved as they are
are not the one I need, nor asked for here

If I find
that which I am most afraid of
A gardener's nightmare, to trim one thorny
beautiful delicate branch of caring
away from the twisting mass...
I had a rose bush in my yard
which produced the most beautiful blooms
Old, many canes
all twisted together
I tried to save it, when witches broom
unexpected
blighted one thrusting attempt at the light
More than just my skin bore the tale
Of that desperate attempt to
tear out one bit that wasn't working
And all those scratches, sweat, pain
didn't save it. The virus is inexorable
in its destruction
Finally, I had to cut it down
Next, I will have to tear the roots out of the very ground
Let ground lie fallow
Before I can try again

If I find
that which I am most afraid of
I won't have anything to give you
to mirror this precious passion you throw at me
for I don't know how long. Perhaps long.
I could not trust again so soon
Could not let footsteps no matter how tender
well intentioned drop upon the raw nerve endings
of a once more freshly severed soul
It's not fair of me to say wait.. to say love me anyway
to say hope... to ask you to keep battering away
on only a spark of possibility
to take friendship on a hope & a dare
when you are as bold and clear as I
that friendship alone is not the thing
for which you roll your dice
I can't even promise it could grow
once the ground healed and became
something once again that can support life
I see the possibilities you see
I know
and in knowing, I know I cannot promise
falsely
And I know... I think... that if I were tossed
the same rotten plum
I'd have the same tone of finality
I heard in your voice, carefully controlled
tinged with the same seed of doubt
yet grimly holding onto the same stubborn kernel of what if
still glimmering somewhere in hope
I myself would most likely
begin to kill hope, put away possibility,
drown the possible future in nothing & stillnesss
until it quit its muffled screaming.
I have spent too much of my life choking the life
out of unreturned hopes & dreams
Thinking of it again... doing it again churns my stomach

But as much alike as we are
We are not the same
What will you do, since I want very much
to offer you something
and yet have so little
know nothing, am getting nowhere
and cannot begin to promise
the everything you hope for?

Silent

2007-01-28T09:06:00.000-06:00

You learn
to cry in silence
so that the
things that hide in the dark
cannot find you

If you breathe
long deep breaths
the deep racking sobs
sink into your stomach
and are absorbed
your shoulders may shake
But who can see them
where there is no lightness?
It's ok for tears to course
hot & silent
down your cheeks
pooling in the corners of your mouth
absorbed into your hair
and splattering tiny rivulets
into the crease between your breasts
Tears are silent
It is only your soul that screams
And who can hear that?
Except, of course
For the things that hide in the dark
But if you're silent
If you make no sound
Or only the tiniest whimper escapes
They might only leer at you
Menacingly
But keep to their own shadows
Until you cry out loud
An evil truce of sorts
A game of pounce
Poe would be delighted

And as a bonus
Once you've learned
this skill...
As an adult,
You won't wake your children
or, if it so happens,
the person sleeping beside you.
or walking beside you -
a different sort of sleeping

Form Follows Function

2007-01-28T07:23:00.000-06:00

Will you be there?
In the endless darkness
When the raw edges of my soul
creep from under their thin protection
From the veneer of strength
the determination that gets one through a day

Will you be there?
when, uncalled,
unable to keep it locked inside any longer
my soul reaches out into the space around me
for warmth, solidity
to both give and receive comfort
reassurance

Form follows function
It is an infinitely precious space
a priceless gift to share it
a kind of Trust
that can be garnered no other way
something... delicate
unique
unfurls in the endless hours of the night
when dreams creep and soar and stalk
when fears and fantasies
vie to play the stage

But will you be there?
In the hours of day
One can argue
that it should make no difference
that close.. and love.. and trust
should care not a whit
at what degree Sol sits

But I'm there,
in that endless darkness with myself
where honesty takes a different sort of tumble
where the adult
can acknowledge the child inside
the piece of self that never grows up
cradle it, nurture it
soothe its fears
There are things left in the dark
and there are corners deep enough to get lost in
Dark corners that hold things
Far less pleasant than warm lips
things that if they capture you alone
can suck your soul dry

I'm there,
and in the darkness around me
I know the difference
as those raw edges of self reach for warmth
the difference
between feeling it there
soul borrowing flesh and finding solidity
hand touching warmth
legs intertwining
shift of space, respoon
believe.
Embers of desire glowing in the ash
that could be fanned to flame and fire
that could burn away the dark
a little while longer
Argue in Sol's illumination what you will -
I know
the difference between those miracles
and finding in that dark only... nothing
confirmation
of an aching silence

Empty.
You know it too --
You know:
Function follows form.
With nothing there to keep it
No warm breath to whisper
in its inhale exhale rhythm
"safe"
Hope drains out into the night
like tears in a wilderness
unseen unknown unheard
Soon I will be as empty
as the space around me.
A target for the things that
wait in the dark
and We will be a dry wisp
a husk, a hull discarded
holding only fragile memory
no protection at all

in fact,
memory
holds its own sort of blade
can slice the heart that holds it
often it is memory itself
that hides in that endless darkness
with malicious intent

Function follows form
Form follows function
Circuitous pattern:
What to be
Who to be
and How
and there... there is an intimate path
to places in our souls
that can be reached no other way
Will you be there?
Or do I walk those particular
oh, so private paths
face the darkness
yet again, once more even more
Alone?

Hesitation

2007-01-28T07:00:00.000-06:00

I hesitate to write
I hestiate to feel
To see, to blink, to breathe
and yet
I can stop none of these things
time marches inexorably,
incrementally onward
silent and blank
I try to keep all those things
still in nothingness
struggling for Zen
but walls & floodgates
barriers
fences
hold only so much
before they fail
give way
too much too many to hold me in
I don't know if I'm weaker than I used to be
or if these things are simply richer & more robust
more complex
more important
struggling themselves for life, for themselves

I hesitate
to write, to feel
to see, blink, breathe
to speak
to trust, to love... no, not that,
but to believe.
And so the pen spills first
inky river etching riverbanks
you never knew were there
drawing waters deep still
silent, cool & comforting
and shallow, rocky
troubled

I hesitate
to feel, to blink
to see... breathe... to write
And yet hold it as I may
with that inevitable breath
comes the 'must' to write
poor as they may be
a million words
capturing only the tiniest sliver
of torrid complexity
Missing huge chunks of important us
in the struggle to gleam
a single nuance
to express even a single tiny thing
that can reach in & touch inside
that can slay dragons
that can grow green & growing
glowing golden things

Do you not want to see?
Close your eyes then, love.
Life takes us quickly past
Blink but a moment or three
and the things you don't want to see
will be gone
... or at least gone past
and you can perhaps forget
things you almost never knew

Only a Moment

2007-01-07T19:27:00.000-06:00

I thought this deserved a spot of its own...

Only a Moment

I brushed back the hair from her brow, again and again,

and looked to her smile for a reason, and found only circumstance, and history, and coincidence.

and regardless, she looked back at me like the man I was certain I could be, and suddenly the world was a different place.

--Posted by LostJohnny1978 to ~~Arachne's Loom~~ at 1/03/2007 07:42:49 AM

An Eternity

2007-01-01T19:43:00.000-06:00

You capture me
With a smile deep in your eyes
Sun and moon together shine
You transport me
Both yesterday and tomorrow
disappear in your warmth
You touch me
And from your touch
spring warm summer hillsides
studded with flowers
and perfumed by the winds
You hold me
And from your arms
comes the warmth
of a raging fire on
the safest hearth
Snug against the winter
winds of life
that threaten to carry me away
Your lips, so absent, beckon
sweetest water
under an arid sky
Words whisper between us
silent as moonlight
They flow, wordless
Yet full of meaning
I strain to hear them
in vain
with these woman's ears
and hear only a deafening
heartrending silence
Until you steal close
surround me again
and from both darkness and sorrow
I hear you once again
Wordless whispers
Only my soul can hear
When once you have persuaded her
to listen.

2006 Customer of the Year Award

2006-12-30T22:21:00.000-06:00

It has always quietly amazed me how easily Mum & Gra attract happy people, & make cranky ones into happier ones. I comment all the time to people (who think, I think, that I'm just making it all up) about how they can walk into anywhere (I particularly notice restaurants) & are either greeted like old friends, or walk out with new ones. There are places all over the country with people who spend days in hard work for little pay, dealing with customer after customer, hundreds of people passing through their lives on a regular basis. And yet, some magic happens when Mum & Gra appear. Faces light up, the mood gets better.. and the service, too! Let me tell you... Graham's notions of good service aren't in the least slack, either - we may have hastened his sordid decline into the sloppy Americanized English language, but he has certainly retained his high standards where service is concerned. Somehow, he almost always gets it.

It really isn't much... they just always have a ready smile, a small familiar way of speaking to a person that makes them seem like... well... a person. I don't know that I've ever in my life seen them look at another person as though their only purpose in life is to serve like an automaton. But it makes such an ENORMOUS difference! I have personally experienced the restaurant phenomena with them... and a year later, gone back to the same place, happened to get the same waitress... and she remembered them. Utterly amazing. They are the quintessential representation of the pebbles that make those ongoing ripples in the proverbial pond.

2006 Customer of the Year Award - Morning Star Cafe in Salisbury, IL.

Well... here's proof in the pudding so you all don't think I'm just spinning tales. Today, they stopped by a little cafe in Salisbury, IL (NOT their hometown) that they visit from time to time on their travels. Completely out of the blue, they were presented with this little scroll signed by all the waitresses announcing that they have been chosen the 2006 "Customers of the Year" & it was accompanied by a whole fresh homemade rhubarb pie. Probably ice cream, too, if I know them.

If there are things we inherit from our parents, whether it be via nurture or nature, I can't think of much I'd like to receive & retain from mine more than this: the ability to attract & retain good people to surround us, & make the lives I touch - even briefly - just a little brighter.

Beleaguered by a Plea

2006-12-28T00:10:00.000-06:00

You are my partner
hear my pain
I lay it here between us
not an accusation
nor to damn nor flay
but in supplication
in utter trust
That we between us
can fix any grievous wound

If you feel daggers,
attacked..
it is only the sharp edges
of my wounded soul
I have been unable to heal
on my own
& I come to you begging
in sure knowledge
& trust that
you can heal my pain
that together we can right
whatever is wrong

If my tears wound your soul
no more so does your
wounded soul bring my tears.
We are one
I am yours
Let us heal us
together.

~~ more napkin scribbles, Nov/Dec 2006

12/26/2006 -- Not Muggles, but Middles

2006-12-27T00:28:00.000-06:00

There it is. I have hunted after it, elusive. Chased it as it skittered from my sight around a corner just a handsbreadth away. Tonight, I looked askance, and there it was! Why is being in the middle truly so much different than any other place? It is, you know. And for some reason, almost everyone avoids it. Everyone wants to be on the edge of things - included, but able to bail - gets edgy when they're forced to the middle, no matter how pleasant the middle may be made. And Oh, the middle may be pleasant indeed! So why? Why back away from it as though it holds something worth fearing?

Because in the middle, there is no escape. You are always and only at the mercy of those on either side of you. If you are lucky, it is a tender mercy. They at any time have the power to turn towards or away from you. Include or shun you either deliberately or with stunning indifference. It takes courage to stand in the middle day after day. (and a certain willingness to glut oneself in pleasant indulgence.. but courage too!) And perhaps a certain sublimation of self as well. Others can turn to reach away from the center for the peace & darkness of nothingness whenever the need for a breath overtakes them. But in the middle, you must be prepared to meet and match all that comes your way... or does not. And while you can accept it from others, there is no nothingness towards which you can actively turn for silence and surcease at times of your choosing. Your only real choice is to turn towards another. When in the middle, even the choice of not-deciding a direction is really no choice, because not-deciding assumes the position of openness to all.

Of course.. you can just absent yourself completely. So I guess I'm wrong: there is a choice - in. or out. There just is no inbetween. Ironic, that! That for the person in the middle, there can be no inbetween. No place to put that one-foot-on-the-floor-ready-to-run. Only a certainty that you are either out... or in.

Bah! Ramblings of a madwoman!

Milkweed Pods & Memories

2006-12-03T19:01:00.000-06:00

Out of all the Christmas ornaments that come out every year, my favorite are the milkweed pods. I can remember Mom sending me down the road in Decembers past in search of the milkweed that grew in the ditches alongside our rural roads. Teardrop-shaped, grey, & rough on the outside when dry, they split into halves & inside is a child’s handful of uber-soft, silky threads, each with a tiny seed attached. In the way of nature, the wind will catch the threads, lofting the tiny seeds into the air so that they can go, spread, find fertile soil to propagate. The pods halves, clean & dry, make pretty little shells for small simple vignettes. I have several, the background of each half carefully painted, maybe a little lace or ribbon framing the edges, and a small tiny-tree ornament glued securely inside the frame of the pod. My most favorite of all is a rather odd, squat-shaped pod with the background painted green & a tiny bit of gold ribbon framing the edges. Inside, Mum glued a small bit of moss & on it, tiny legs folded underneath as it curls into its snug safe haven is a tiny baby deer. Every single time I look at it I get a soft sense of adoration & a strange sense of security. I couldn’t find it when I got the ornaments out this year – I don’t know if maybe the kids put it on the tree & I will find it when the season is over… or if I put it somewhere special for safe keeping & that box simply did not come down – but even it’s only in my memory, that one ornament does more for me in terms of heralding the season than any other bit of fancy to grace any wall, tree, or ground anywhere else.

For some reason, I don’t remember actually making any of these – perhaps I was too young the last time Mum made milkweed pod ornaments to actually help with the paint or the glue or the scissors, I’m not sure. But I wonder if, when Mum’s email today said that she was making milkweed pods, she was thinking of making a bit of fancy for each of the grandkids… carrying past into future, in her own special way. I hope so. I like the thought that someday B will find within her the same sense of being loved & loving from the same reminders that trigger those things for me. We do, after all, when our bodies wear out & we are gone from this world, go on in the minds and hearts of those who love us.

Thanksgiving

2006-11-25T10:49:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving...

As far back as I can legitimately remember, the holidays included sucking at least one other family up into whatever the big holiday meal is. When my parents remodelled the house, one room became the dining room with a beautiful big table that comfortably seats 8 & can expand to 12 if we're really friendly. If there were too many, people just spilled over onto the kitchen table & maybe even to an extra put up for the occasion in the living room. Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas -- each of those holidays meant someone, some family, would be joining us for the meal, the day, the evening, whatever it was. Maybe all of the above! When I was really little, the crowd always included my paternal grandparents, whom I adored (Grandpa died in the early 80's) & who lived across the road from us, but even then there was almost always at least one family other than ours. It was not only a sharing of bounty, but a wallowing in the golden glow that good people & good friends & family can build around you. It was a reaffirmation of connection & belonging, and a sharing of all you had - not just the stuff, but the people, too.

When I was in college, my parents were going through their divorce & subsequent nastiness (particularly inside of me), & while I continued to go home for various holidays, I either did a WHOLE lot of bouncing around & sharing my friends' holiday traditions, or else I drug them home with me for company. One year in particular, I attended no less than TEN Thanksgiving meals in a single weekend. Whew. Over the years, there was never any question but that I could bring home a friend or two to share in the fun... in fact, there were a couple of friends that joined us more than once & were eventually told they would always be welcome, whether I (snotty little shit that I was at the time) came home or not. Mum meant it, too -- she has always loved & welcomed interesting people. In the back of my mind, I always think maybe I'll come home some holiday & Joe or maybe Jan will show up on the doorstep, having taken Mum's invitation of years ago to heart with a grin & a sense of great goodwill. Guess I get the "collector's" habit from Mum -- I only hope it continues to develop, since I find the collecting of good people to be an interesting and very rewarding habit to have.

So for Thanksgiving, there would be much food preparation, with EVERYone firmly shooed OUT of the kitchen. I might be called upon to help set the table and put ice in the big brown blown-glass water glasses, but Mum did the food herself. Mostly, the kitchen doesn't have a lot of room for bodies, & she hated having people underfoot. Big turkey, stuffing, yeast rolls, mum's corn casserole, pumpkin & pecan pie, some sort of wine and - a must - Party Potatoes. There were always other bits that changed over the years as people contributed to the bounty, but those things were required. Once Graham came along, we added roasted new potatoes & Bisto gravy to the list of musts... mmmmm. This year, we had the addition of honest-to-goodness mince tarts & mince pie made by Cousin-Auntie-Linda :)

After stuffing ourselves silly, the adults always sat around the table talking for awhile. If the weather was beautiful, we might go for a walk down the road a piece somewhere in there, & the afternoon almost ALWAYS included a nap for me :D (I'm a whuss - too much food, too many people. I love people around, but all those minds/personalities clamouring around me wears me out fast.) If Randy&Arlis were in attendance (like this year), we would at some point waddle into the next room - the big room - and gather around the piano to sing whatever sort of songs the holiday called for while Randy tickled the keys for a couple of hours. Over the years there may or may not have been additional accompaniment - guitars, flutes, trumpets, trombones... this year Todd quite credibly joined the fray with a guitar Tony had left behind on their last trip to America, and there is nothing I love better than some soft acoustic guitar! If day stretched into evening, or if the company wasn't musically inclined, then there would always be games of some sort drug out of the games closet. The ones I remember most charitably were Pictionary and some musical tune game (NOT Hummables) we played with Badgers & Muninis gathered around the table all those years ago. Finally, either with or without the ragged remnants of people who had not yet gone home, we might (oh, cross my fingers, please!) clear off the table & get out a puzzle, then spend the next couple of hours hunched silent over the pieces as we tried to turn cacaphony into sense. Please note: Puzzles at Mum's house are not cardboard Springbock mockeries, but real wooden puzzles that have survived the ages & are quite often cut with figurals and diabolical colour-line cuts and odd edges to thwart us. Thththhrhrrowrrrll !!

The last few years have brought about the entrance of "Christmas" on the day after Thanksgiving. My sister & I - who rarely agree, have together decreed that "Real" Christmas only truly happens at Mum's house in the red room. So since my sister & her family have had difficulty getting off work & making it the several hundred miles to Mum's house for both Christmas and Thanksgiving, we moved Christmas up a bit, tree, stockings, presents & all. It's really mostly for the little ones now, but there's always some little bit for the older folks too. One thing in particular to note -- my Grandpa died over 25 years ago, but he's not yet missed a Christmas. It's getting harder & harder to do, & each year now I expect to be the last... but every year, somewhere in the piles of presents has appeared some little remembrance for me of my Grandpa. A picture, his pipe, a Thresher's button found in a corner, a Prince Albert tin.... Mum has to be racking her brain & ransacking the house by now, so many years have gone by. Sometimes I think he's up there somewhere nudging some little thing into her hands at just the right moment. He was something, my grandpa - I know it not only because I remember him (as much as a kid can), but because Mum thought so too. She would not have possibly been able to keep this up over the years if she did not. In fact, as much as the two of us are alike, I'd venture to say that she had more of a connection with my Grandpa than she did with Dad. In a wholely different way, of course, but I think they must have touched souls, and I think the ache of his absence has never really left.

This year at Thanksgiving, we celebrated Thanksgiving at Mum's the night before. The day of, we (my sister & I & co) had lunch as a family with Dad & Verna, then for supper we all (the D&V side) trouped over to Badger's where we had been invited to share their family's Thanksgiving. That meal felt like the "real" Thanksgiving to me, with not only our blood relatives, but another family to share with as well... particularly since the other family in question is one I count as my own. After dinner, Jessica & I, & later Martin, were able to cozy up & chit chat... older adults in the one room, kids in another, & us inbetween. Time brings a surety of continuance that nothing else can replace, and as we sat there chatting in a house Jessica & I giggled in so many years ago, listening to OUR kids giggling and playing in the next room, I felt the tradition & the years wind & twine & bind us together in some sort of magic nothing but years and friendship can do.

Aside from those perfect moments that evening, the rest of the Thanksgiving holiday I very much felt the lack of the rest of my family. The way the rest of the world works be damned... in my world, family is comprised far more of the people I've taken into my heart & with whom I've filled my life than those whose blood runs through my veins. In years past it has been enough to touch base with them by phone, but this year that was not nearly enough for me. It was almost a physical ache to have two huge chunks of my family not present - I felt ripped & wrenched apart & torn over every single one of the miles that separated us. Each part has its own (blood) family traditions and obligations to fulfill, all in separate directions, but next year (Good Lord willin' & the creek don' rise), Stacy & John & I & anyone else who wants to help are planning to offer a Thanksgiving feast in our neck of the woods & intend to invite all our respective bits of family... and THEIR respective bits of family... to join us. Maybe they will, & maybe they won't.. and who knows what the next year will bring -- sometimes the thought of how far we might all fall apart in a whole year's time scares the skin off me. I know to accomodate, we'll have to do it on Saturday or something rather than Thanksgiving day itself... but I've learned over the years to move the day of the celebration, too. I would dearly love to have all my family - blood as well as loved, and all the people they love in turn - under one roof at one time at least once before we lose any of them. Mostly you only get that at weddings & funerals, but I'd really rather avoid the one, don't see the other coming, and Thanksgiving seems like a great time to make it happen.

Marco...... !

A Con to Remember

2006-10-22T21:15:00.000-06:00

I think I expected him to be just a little rough. Maybe not "rough", but strong. Demanding. Insistent. He had that look about him. He looked like he could handle pretty much anything he might encounter. Why I became what he encountered I don't know, although I'd like to find out! What he was wearing did nothing to hide muscles that rippled smoothly under the thin cotton. But that self-assured cocky sort of air he threw into the room has always begged me to pay attention. It's a challenge thrown into the air that I cannot resist meeting - whether to stomp it into oblivion or goad it further with cheeky humour I never know til we're in it - but it lights a spark in my eyes. I have not yet been able to resist that siren's call when it enters my space.

I wasn't wrong. He was strong enough to match me.. meet me.. Stronger. In a frantic fight or flight I'd lose hands down. He could pin me solid without even working very hard at it. Better, there was a light in his eyes and a lilt to his speech that made me think he could pin me just as easily with a thought. And passionate! I know there was music playing: loud, loud music that makes your heart re-beat to its rhythm instead of your own. But I don't remember the music. He had a rhythm all his own that synched with the sound & then turned it into something else. Something that demanded I listen to it. Respond to it. Further it. The back and forth between us was furious and demanding and passionate and skillful... and yet never out of control. Riding an edge at times, perhaps, but never truly out of control. Either one of us could slide into that curve, and if there perhaps was once or twice a seconds' quiver, a waver on the edge of something more - something less.. chosen... it always came back to here & now & what was acceptable.

He rallied to the mood and the situation. If I threw aggression at him, he caught it, returned it, amplified it, then brought it back around to rest in something different. Then turned something different into segue to another round. If I softened, he became support. If I led, he followed, and when I wanted to do nothing but follow his lead, he led. If he blinked more than once, if he hesitated when another joined the dance, I didn't see it. I didn't feel it in his hands or in his body or in the bite he left proof of on my shoulder. I'm not doing justice to those moments, not by a long shot, but they'll have to wait for another pen I think. I didn't feel any hesitation when he said goodbyes either. Wonderful goodbyes! I don't know that I can explain it properly, but goodbye that night felt more like a "hey, I'll see ya tomorrow" from someone I've known for years. None of the clinging wretchedness that might accompany such an encounter. Not the slightest demand that things go further than they had, and yet also no desire to run, to escape, to begin regret before our skin had even cooled. We both seemed perfectly content - at least for that evening - with exactly what we had. Riding high, adrenalin pumping, neither sated yet still in perfect grace. How often does that happen?

What surprized me most were the moments when I found his lips not demanding, but sweet. Soft. Kind. A moment's press of sweet innocence standing out in glaring relief. A beacon of something gentle surprizing me quietly amid the cacaphony all around: loud music, darkness, lights strobing randomly in bright irrhythmic pulses, bodies gyrating wildly in all beats, combinations, degrees of intimacy. Pianissimo delicately insinuated itself where it could be most quietly heard somewhere in the depths of myself... even if I wasn't listening very closely for the moment. Even when I fail to listen with every part of my brain in the moment, on recall I always hear tiny things I may have failed to fully appreciate earlier. Tiny notes of something out of the ordinary. Eclectic perhaps. Complex. A rare vintage.

I thrill to that particular combination. Strong, hard, gentle, sweet, demanding, ruthless, intimate, daring, vulnerable, intimidating, kind, giving, innocent, knowing. Saved & damned all at the same time. S pulled out a book this week & made me read a paragraph of it. There was a statement in there that read, 'men drive on passion. Denouement.' However, "it is not passion that drives a woman to the edge, but the promise of passion." It is. It is the journey when the journey is worth taking. Knowing one can be completely held at another's mercy, and simultaneously knowing that mercy is there. Ultimately saved even in the midst of a headlong plunge into hedonism. Being held safe by danger itself. Being able to release yourself fully to the machinations of another, knowing control is yours at a breath when you want it. I love everything inbetween & this is no exception. When I say I want it all, it is not an understatement.

*************
My copies are finally done, & I need to pack them up & head home, pick up B, get her to bed, make myself ready for tomorrow's training sessions. So many thought fragments scribbled on paper, & so few that have become something even moderately readable in all these hours! Must do more soon... I need to write them before I live more... before they're lost.

2006-10-22T11:17:00.000-06:00

Today I am wiped out. Exhausted. Washed clean of any desire for passion or excitement or intrigue. I feel flat & grey with the aftermath of all the things my mind conceives... all the things after which my body yearns. One can only yearn so much before you must either peak or rest. The house is silent, and the silence wraps itself around me & insulates me from the world. H called this morning & I didn't pick up. For a live person to intrude on this bubble of silence & solitude this day would be grating. Unacceptable. It would pierce this bubble that surrounds me, that muffles the world.

Yet the desire.. the need to spill events & perceptions onto paper churns those moments of perception 'round & 'round inside me. It tells me I cannot feel again - cannot go into another round of what if & wow! until I put something on paper. I am full to the brim with moments, and I cannot experience any more without writing or they will be gone. They will spill over the edge of me & be lost to a yesterday I can no longer remember. There is no more room for storage.

So I escape. I have copies to make for this week's training, and B is still safely ensconced @ J&S's, so it's into STL to the office to hide amid row upon row of grey cubicles. I'll jog back & forth across the entire floor (or floors, if necessary), making the copy machines work on what should be their day of rest. The building, designed to house hundreds of people, will be eerily silent, mostly dark. Empty except for the security guards and a stray odd person or two that will appear as startled as I should we run into one another. I might... just might... have time & silence enough to write. To pull enough of a single thought into coherence and empty it onto paper. Might.

Distance - 10/15/2006

2006-10-15T23:04:00.000-06:00

Distance is only an illusion
In an electronic age

how true

that person sitting next to you
there! on that couch
on the bus
lying a breath away in that bed
might be as far away inside
as these bodies of ours are
right now
each separated by an unknown
infinite span of far too much
space

Distance
is as much an illusion
close up
as it is when things
are far away

come closer?
court danger... if you dare

I would be most interested
to learn
if your thoughts are
as intriguing
as your lips

Sagittarius

2006-10-15T09:51:00.000-06:00

Anonymous said...
Lemmings, bad - Individuals good...You and your friends need a Sagittarius in your life...We are just about everywhere.
Saturday, October 14, 2006 5:31:36 PM
Anonymous said...
Alas, Gemini -- Sagittarius
Saturday, October 14, 2006 8:48:16 PM

I'm sure a Sagittarius in our lives would be most welcome! Of course... most interesting people that come along are welcome in this crowd. Interesting individuals are always made welcome in one way or another... (lemmings are interviewed on a case by case basis).

I was told very recently that to a Sagittarius, Gemini's are like crack. Like candy. Invigorating & addictive is how I heard that. Umm... & maybe that they taste good, too? heh. One can only hope!

Unfortunately, the Sagittarius that said that lives far enough away that this particular addictive Gemini shouldn't cause them any real dietary issues... did I say "unfortunately"?

Anyway... I have discriminating tastes for a Gemini. Just any old Sagittarius won't necessarily do. Who is this one? Identify yourself, rogue!

A Morning in Early September

2006-09-28T07:16:00.000-06:00

It was erie this morning. Early morning mist obscured the trees in front of me as I sat at a stoplight. Brilliant ruby red, piercing in its clarity. Cars whipped by in front of me... like a corridor of reality cutting through another world. I was in that other world. All my fears, doubts, frantic things to do, work... all melted into the insubstantial nothingness of an imagined world. The real things.. the important things.. the vibrant, vital things were, of course, over there. Moving on. Rushing on without me down the highway, 90 degrees to where I was hovering in limbo. When the light turned green, had there been noone behind me, I might have simply stayed where I was, signal light blinking its fog-muted yellow into the mist. Clickclick. Claclick. Clickclick... til it simply wore itself out & stopped blinking. Limbo. Sweet, peaceful, nothing-is-required-of-you-you-don't-have-to-be-anywhere-anytime-anyplace-anyone-for-any-reason-don't-have-to-feel-anything-not-responsible-for-anything-anybody-noone's-mad-hurt-unhappy-ever limbo. Instead, with a deep sigh, I jumped into the stream and drove on. Re-engaged. The green light commanded me. The car behind me sent anxious, demanding waves of thought at me: Go! Go! Go, Amy. Join the other lemmings in their mad dash to whatever or wherever it is we're all going in such a gawdawful hurry.

A Morning's Thought

2006-09-24T09:55:00.000-06:00

I woke up wanting you.

The new blanket lay against my skin
soft as fur
and for a brief moment I could imagine
it was the hair on your chest
lying soft against my breasts

I woke up wanting you all slow-like
Not fast, as I sometimes do
Sometimes I want you hard & quick
With intent flaring in your eyes
And a dare just there upon your lips
Passion either laughing or no,
But rough & tumble...
Devil take anyone who tries to stop you

But this morning, I wanted you slow
I wanted time to stop,
The world quit around us
I felt the blanket against my skin
And imagined it was the length of you,
Warm body heat... skin on skin...
shoulder to toe
I lay there soaking in the warmth, basking
for ever so long
And wanted

For this to be a morning where
you just can't quite put your finger on where
insensible sleep turns into touching
the tiniest of muscles twitch,
& you know the person next to you has engaged
yet so slow.. ever so slow
the movement towards one another could ache
with tension.. but not THIS morning
because the world is gone

there is no pressure to move.. to get up.. to go
anywhere
there are no children screaming elsewhere in the house
noone to feed or coddle or mediate over
there are no bills, no work, no schoolwork earlier forgotten
no alarm clock jangling nerves
we are not hungry, we do not have to pee
we feel clean and sweet of body and breath
the air is that perfect temperature
to allow covers or no, it does not matter
the light is nebulous - just enough to see by
but not enough to scream you must get up

Everything slides together & flows
and soon you find lips meeting, greeting
not even yet questing
just touching lightly in a soft hello

and fingertips brush lightly
soft as the hair on your arms.. your legs
from shoulders to toes they tiptoe
and caress and waken little bits of skin and self
to touch.. to warmth
We touch over all of ourselves
nooks & crannies & tiny indentions
imperfections become an interesting quest
learning all over again
all the tiny secrets of each other's skin
and how the muscles play together
and where the soul connects
and on the way
find reminders of tiny places that wake shivers
tiny places that make your nipples
crinkle in response

Eventually
lips follow fingertips
butterfly caresses all over
any intent still so far away as to be irrelevant
If the world intruded there would yet be no
frustrated abrasion of need
and yet
there is a happy dawning desire on the horizon
and we look and know and move towards it in accord

We have time
to lay side by side
legs and hands entwined
where I can play with your hair
and explore hands, arms
whatever skin we can reach
maybe we talk ever so softly about nothings
or maybe we just listen carefully
to the things our hands have to say
our bodies speak loudly
if we shut up long enough to listen

We have time
to lay with me behind you
breasts pressing against your back
where my hands can roam your chest
your stomach
cup you gently and tease that soft plateau
between stomach and thigh
then switch
to lay with you behind me
where your hands can roam
cup my breasts & softly tease the nipples
slide across every curve and find
every hollow which pleases you
where I can feel you pressing softly
against my back, my butt, my thighs
as you grow tumescent

Over many many ticks and lengths of time
touching becomes more intent
fingers begin to do less fluttering and more caressing
A nipple is tweaked
a fingernail rakes softly across your thigh
still softly... but with intent
Later, they might dig deep in passion

Later, who knows where we might go
I want to hear you moan
and watch your hands clench the sheets...
or the bed... or me...
You will smile to watch me writhe
twisting under your ministrations
wrenching tiny mewls from my lips
and stealing them away with yours

Tiny intakes of breath will become gasps
of surprize, of pleasure
We will twine together in so many ways
We may forget where one of us begins
and the other leaves off
I want to feel your weight full above me
where I cannot escape
where you look at me with a pirate's gleam in your eye
and know I am at what little mercy you may show
I want to look down upon you
and hold you captive
the length of you my playtoy
all your great strength now mine to command

and all of it... all of it
begins in that slow morning something
and there is no time, no world, no intent,
no people, no inhibitions,
no concerns, no second-guessing, no nothing
that interrupts us
When we finally emerge
we will be surprized. a little stunned
to find the world went on without us
Whether it's an hour... or days...
or maybe even years later
For us there is no time
nothing that matters
but this touch of skin on skin
this exploring of self

Our bodies have so much to say
if we just shut up long enough to listen.

~~09/24/06

08/28/06 - Hotel

2006-08-28T20:19:00.000-06:00

When I finally drug my exhausted self & fourteen miscellaneous bags & suitcases (because I didn't take time to pack well & just tossed it all in in a big twisted mess) up to the 14th floor of the hotel, I dumped them all in one great relieved pile. Then I hunted for the A/C & turned it to some temperature that would take the slightly humid 'warm' out of the air and instead kiss my skin with cool pleasure. Half asleep, I found the bathroom I'd been wanting increasingly badly for the last hour or so of the gawdawful long, rainy drive. Then I stripped off the clothes that had car wrinkles firmly creased into my body, closed my eyes & took a moment to relish the feel of the air finally on my skin... I hadn't slept naked in three days, & with the lack of sleep & the drive down, I was starting to feel like they were never coming off again. Horrible thought! I brushed my teeth & checked briefly & bleary-eyed in the mirror to ensure that I really hadn't grown the guy-investigator-who-hasn't-slept-in-three-days stubble I was sure ought to be there. Then, and only then, did I stumble back into the room & stop to really pay attention to the bed. Pay attention? Salivate. Worship.

The bed was enormous. And it was a SEA of white. Crisp clean white cotton sheets over some soft down poof of a mattress, covered by layers and layers of sheets like layers of some Italian confection. Over all that was a thick down-filled comforter crisp with white on white pinstripes that tried sternly (but in vain) to argue that it was really far more practical than those large soft waves of heaven appeared to be. After a few moments of pure anticipatory appreciation, I threw myself into it and was enveloped. I was swimming in white & soft cotton. Mounds of clean white pillows in all sorts of shapes & sizes tumbled into haphazard piles that called coyly to come tussle amongst them. Giggles would be muffled or slip out only a little here & there as little squeals of happiness tend to do. Warmth and innocence and passion amongst a riot of clouds. Mounds of soft white. A maze of poof.

I squirrled around, swimming in a blissful sea of soft, finding cool spots... warm spots... every time I moved, the next spot was just as good as.. no, better.. than the last. Heaven. And it made me want to squirm deeper, how freakin' much room does this bed have, anyway? Every wiggle found another little pocket, another new pillow, another soft welcoming twist of sheets & comforter that seemed to caress my skin at every flex & twist. The fancy took me that somewhere in all that fluff there could very well be a whole 'nother person, just lost in the maze. If I just chased him 'round the bed a bit more, we'd find one another. Or perhaps he was chasing me? Yes, much nicer.

I squirmed more, searching for something illusive, and out of the mounds of fluff my own pink striped pillow appeared, and from it wafted the unmistakable scent of a man. Ah. See? I know that scent. I knew he was here somewhere. I sighed, buried my nose & breathed deeply, sinking back into the mountains of sheets & pillows on that ridiculously sinful bed. I breathed again, feeling both desire and contentment roil in a slow flush that invaded me, warmed through & took possession of me like sleepy sunshine on a summer's day. Damn. I lay there contemplating that sensation & smiled, appreciating both the goodness and the frustration in all the thoughts that stop being thoughts & melt away into feelings & sensations as mountainous & unexplored & inviting as this sea of white. Then I breathed in the scent of him one more time - deeply - completely - before I turned out the light & snuggled in to sleep, pillow held tight in my arms. In only a very few hours, day would begin.

Conflicts 08 10 2006

2006-08-11T12:42:00.001-06:00

"How are you?" she asks
and I can't answer. Because that answer
has so many facets I can't begin to hit them all in a few moments
and even when I try, I know I miss the good things
They become eclipsed by the not-so-good things,
even if there are more good than bad.

But I found myself thinking about how to answer
(because I knew she would not let it go)
and I wrote.
and she asked again
and again
and today, I wrote some more, added to what was there
altered only a little
and here is what I have:

Just for today (I wrote some time ago)
I am overwhelmed.
I feel beat upon by the emotional tides
that have been tossing me
... us.
All of us.

Sometimes it takes me by surprize -
swimming strongly, perfectly comfortable in these waters
Then one wave, one single wave
coming out of nowhere from the side, blind side,
Swamps me, washes over me
Gasping for air, I take in water
& suddenly
I am no longer swimming
but floundering
Then every wave, no matter how small
or even how expected
Becomes a very dangerous thing.

Danger comes at me from every direction:

I am in a new team
with many unknown elements & people
& they are far away
I am - sort of - part of an old team
where my role is changing
but not yet defined
Here left out on accident, there on purpose.
Many meetings & issues where I don't quite know where to stand
My sense of "belonging" & sense of who I am & what I offer
is in flux. Is not stable.

I finally have a feeling that I am doing what I do BEST..
yet not certain this is what I SHOULD be doing
on ALL I should be doing
to do this job.
That I must be missing some vital piece of this puzzle
& it will hurt me... sooner or later.

I am surrounded by family - family who has chosen one another
yet I am alone in Love.
Possibility itself has turned into something hard to think about.
I am shown affection,
but do not feel confident that it is something I can count on..
lean on.
What I think is.. what if it is only my own illusions? Again?
These affections melt away, change, disappear,
become something second best
tarnished, not enough, not good enough...
depending on who or what is near or happening

We have had no still, quiet, happy time together
--- without undercurrents ---
since four of us shared a morning.
And I don't see how we can have that again
Anytime soon.
This sea is too unruly, and the rocky shores far too close
for anyone's comfort.

I always want.
It has been so long since I had anyone long enough
To enable trust that they would still be there -
tomorrow, next week, next year.
I only vaguely remember a time
when I did not want.. need... desire...
in eventual, if not immediate, futility
The sort of surety I offer
Doesn't seem to be attractive to people to whom I'm attracted
They just want to play, chase, conquer
& let tomorrow bring whatever new toy it may

I feel stuck in a pattern I cannot escape
I meet men over and over again
who introduce desire between us
acknowledge it
begin to explore it...
& then take it away.
Disappear just as I begin to get used to
the possibilites opening before us.
And their disappearance has nothing to do with risk.
Except risks of the heart.
So it's not material decisions... therefore it must be me,
the core me: who I am, not what I have.
There must be something about who I am that is subpar
That they don't see until later.
Or else it's them... in which case I just have bad taste.

I have an overwhelming need
To take care of my friends. My family.
This balances itself precariously against me taking care of me.
How can I do both of those things
When they come into direct conflict with one another?
They don't often, but when they do
I will always take the hit
Because that is the one thing I can always do
That I am in control of:
sacrificing myself
But this time, inside me, my heart screams
I've never heard it fight back at me before
It has always simply laid itself down
In quiet submission
to whatever conclusions seem logical to me

I am torn as a parent.
I love my daughter, I miss her when I am away (most of the time)
And yet she presents more of a challenge
than I feel I can handle -- well -- alone.
I question my own ability to rise to the challenge of her.
To do her justice
To be everything she needs.
No.. I KNOW I cannot be everything she needs
and I struggle to find people... elements...
That can shore us up where I am weak.

I feel more unsafe than I have ever felt in my life
Every time I head for the door,
My heart leaps a little into my throat,
Wondering if my car will still be there
Every time I come home
My heart leaps a little into my throat
That last block home is a nightmare
Wondering if while I was gone my home has been invaded
I wake sometimes in the middle of the night
Hear a sound
& My heart leaps a little into my throat
Wondering if that's just Cassandra on the counter again
or if someone is there, coming to
take my daughter...
or her innocence...
or her sense of safety too.

Hearing someone come in the house while I'm sleeping
Used to make my heart leap a little into my throat
For entirely different reasons -- good ones!
Reasons that were warm & safe & happy
& sometimes exciting
But that seems a desire for something that is lost to the past
Now there is noone here then
in the dark to lean on
But me
Suddenly I am not enough, even for myself
Which is scary in itself,
because I have ALWAYS been enough.

So just for today
I am overwhelmed.
I am floundering.
And I have found myself BROADCASTING
things I don't want to impose on everyone around me.
The depth of need & desire I feel sometimes
become so intense
I am afraid they will shine clearly from my eyes.
It's bad enough that they shine from my heart.
I am ashamed, both of feeling these things
& of not being able to control them
and then,
I am always afraid they will not be returned

Even in anger, I still desire..
perhaps more so.
Ask for what I need?
But I need it to come without asking!
To encompass & support & strengthen me
reassure me...

So for all these reasons
I have found times when I could not look at you.
I could not meet your eyes
With such tumult inside.
And not only you... Several of you!
People who have crawled so far into my heart
I can't anymore even conceive living a life
without you in it

Sometimes when I seem the farthest away
the most disinterested in your very existence
Is when I so very badly
need you the most.
Hold me.
If I have anything you want, then just hold me
....& save me from myself.

Contest Submissions: Indian, English & Pirate Pickup lines

2006-07-17T01:10:00.000-06:00

Rules, Regs, & Disclaimers: Submissions being posted on me blog(s) as soon as I can get around to it, generally in order submitted, although slams/responses noted as specific to a particular line will be posted under that line.... in order submitted. Submissions will be posted with first name, last initial of submitter. Submission of material constitutes permission to publish. Contest opened 07/15/06, contest closes 07/28/06, by order of the Quartermaster. (That's me.) Treasure will be awarded as soon after that as I can get me scurvy self either to a postmaster or to ye personally.
Last Updated: F 03/15/07 7:00a-ish CST.

INDIANS
How! Me wantum strong brave :) (AmyS)
Ranger, you don't have to be lone anymore. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Me been saving this coin just for you... It "Indian head" nickel. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
(Lone Ranger to Tonto) Hey kemo sabe, I've got an itchy trigger finger, wanna help me finger Trigger? (HeatherM&ShaneM)
How would you like to see the eleventh little Indian? (HeatherM&ShaneM)
PERSONAL AD: Big Chief seeks Little Woman who tell like it is. Tired of reading smoke signals. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Me promise you won't be just another feather in headdress. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
"Let me a-maize you..." Never mind, too corny. (HeatherM&ShaneM) Ed.note: *groan!*
Eyes like Raven... beware the claws! (AmyS)
Me teepee or Sioux's? (AmyS)
Welcome to MakeManyPleasure Hardware Store. Wantum screw? (AmyK)
Come and blow my peace pipe. (LenaB)
Me squatum on you. (LenaB)
Let me poka-your-hauntus. (LenaB)
Geranimo! (LenaB)
How, my name is Swimming Bear. You wantum play? (LenaB)
Your tribe name, Spread Eagle? Thisum be fun. (LenaB)
Let me show you how we plantum corn. (LenaB)
Will you quiver for my arrow? (LenaB)
Me Chief Longshank Lastlong. You be Moansalot. Let us have peace. Join me in smoke. Let me show you my pipe. (ShaunG)

ROYAL NAVY
Can I be your Rear Admiral? I'll meet you on the poop deck. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Would you like to visit my cabin and batten down the hatches? (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Excuse me madam, but please lift your shirt. I'm the inspector for the Royal Navel Academy. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
My poop deck could use a swabbin'. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
They say it's bad luck to have a woman aboard a Navy ship, but how about the Navy ship aboard a woman, starting with me. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Wow! What a big mast you have. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Nice aft. (HeatherM&ShaneM)

PIRATES
Want to scrape the barnacles off of my rudder? (TomS)
If ye've got barnacles on yer rudder, 'ere's somewhat wrong, 'ere is. (AmyK)
Avast me proud beauty! Want to know why my Roger is so Jolly? (TomS)
Y've been swabbin yer own planks again, 'aven't ye, mate. (AmyK)
Aye & you're a dashing rogue, ain'tcha? (AmyK)
You know... me leg isn't the only thing that's wooden. (TomS)
Nay, yer head seems a fer piece wood, too... and termite ridden at that! (AmyK)
I've been ashore too long... I be needin' a taste of a salty brine! (AmyK)
Come show me how ye bury yer treasure, laddie! (AmyK)
A bit o' grog & ye'll be fallin all over yerself to crimp on me crew, a salty lad such as ye. (AmyK)
Ah'll put a shiver in yer timber, lad, sure'n Davy Jones sails the seven seas. (AmyK)
Aye, and pay special attention to the Captain's coaming, I will. (AmyK)
I've a pretty little sheath t' might nicely welcome that handsome sword of yours. I could it show t'ye if ye've a mind to it. (AmyK)
Aye, tatoos 'n scars be the pretties on a matey Rogue. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours! (AmyK)
Y shouldna need a map to find the treasure I'm offerin' ya, boy. (AmyK)
Avast, ye scallywag, I aint' gwanta be awaitin yer pleasure all the mornin' long. Put a crimp in yer sail & quitcher ditherin'. (AmyK)
Plunder me treasure, will ye? (AmyK)
No, really... will ye? (AmyK)
Arrgh....is that Fish I smell or a particularly pungent Cheese? (ChrisB, with Nasty Nancy & th' Ol' Mississip in mind)
Come here me pretty puss. (LenaB)
Aye’ I’ll give you a "taste o’ the cat!" (LenaB as she removes the cat-o-nine-tails from her waist) Come and inspect me rigging, ye pretty. (LenaB)
Sigh, ye promise me a mighty bowsprit, but ye’ve only got a wet nipper. (LenaB)
Woohoo, check out that booty. (LenaB)
Belay that look, this bounty ‘ill have ye dancing the hempen jig. (LenaB)
Well blow me down and swab me deck. (LenaB)
Ye been swabben yer own deck so long, ye’ve been bilged on yer own anchor. (LenaB)
Wanna hang from my yard arm? (BobV)
Avastly fine time awaits ye in me arms... (JennyV)
Ahoy Gunny! Yer lanyard makes me cannon fire prematurely! (PeterW)
Aargh! I've only got eye for you. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Aargh! I've only got ayes for you. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Wanna see what me third leg's made of? (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Well blow me down... there. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Would ye like to shiver me timber? (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Polly want a pecker? (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Come to me wench. Old Pegleg Pete's got a problem. Y'see, me hook's on me jerkin' hand. (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of Rohypnol! (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Is that your wooden leg or are you just happy to see me? (KerstinL)
Being Cap'n has its priveledges, boys. I get her first. (TomS)
Well Luv, the ship's goin' down, should we follow suit? (HeatherM&ShaneM)
Arrrr.. she wants to walk me plank, she does. Guess me plank will get polished! (ShaunG)
I stole a copy of the new Pirates of the Caribbean! (Software Pirate) (MelissaM)
(from the crow's nest) Why don't you pop up and see me sometime? (LenaB)
Quiet down before I roll ye off o' the plank, bilge rat. (TomS)
You know the plank isn't big enough! (ChrisB)
The sea is deadly & the weather unbearable, but the Knave is newly tarred & the sails furled. We'll stay afloat this night & see the day break. (TomS)

Scurvy Knave + Saucy Nancy +Elizabeth + Meg + Tokeleth = I WIN! (TomS)
....... *thinks anything 'scurvy' loses* .... (AnthonyM)

CONTEST: Indian, Pirate, & English Navy Pick Up Lines

2006-07-15T11:05:00.000-06:00

I'm announcing a contest to correspond with our most recent Murder Mystery adventure! Please submit your best Indian, Pirate & English Navy type pick up lines and/or resulting pick up line slams/responses. I'll find some sort of treasure to dole out to the scurviest "Knave" to "Brave" the "Nav-y". (go ahead... groan) There will likely be multiple prizes if I get good responses.

Originality of course gets more credit than copied work, outright cheesy may or may not get you a walk on the plank. Oh.. wait... pick up lines are by nature cheesy. well then, I'll have to come up with some other criteria.

You can & should email 'em to me (for those of you who have an e-addy) or post them here (for those of you who do not) as you think of them, but for pure entertainment value, I strongly encourage their use on your Yahoo IM, answering machines, grocery stores and public elevators all over the tri-state area. :D Deadline for submissions is July 28th, 2006. The good, bad, & the truly ugly will be posted here on me site after the Murder Mystery (end of July), and winners will be announced with the posting.

Examples used so far:

Want to scrape the barnacles off me rudder?
If ye've got barnacles on yer rudder, 'ere's somewhat wrong w/ ye, mate!
Avast me proud beauty! Want to know why my Roger is so Jolly?
Y've been swabbin yer own planks again, 'avent ye, mate?
Aye, & you're a dashing rogue, ain'tcha?
How! Me wantum strong brave :)

Aye'll be a keepin' me eyes open fer yer submissions, ye lilly-tongued scallywags, ye!!
---O'Amy

P.S. There's only just so many character spots at a murder mystery... but this could be FUNNY! So I'm opening the contest to any & all non-attending parties as well. There will likely be multiple prizes if I get good responses :)

P.P.S. If ye've not made an invitation to one of our shindigs yet & find ye have an interest, please let me know. We try to mix 'em up at least a little bit every time & new & interesting people make for a great evening!

Mother's Day 05/14/2006

2006-06-23T12:04:00.000-06:00

The last few years, I've sort of ignored Mother's Day & Father's Day. It was never really a great-big-fat-hairy-deal sort of thing when I was growing up anyway, although we usually went out to dinner or something as a family for MY parents (& still do). Yes, when I was very very small I remember it being a big deal where my Dad took me out hunting for just the right way to surprize Mom, but as I got older that fell by the wayside. It never occurred to me before, but now that I think about it, that was probably yet another symptom of something wrong as their relationship crumbled away.

After B was born, I did make an effort the first couple of years to help her in honoring her Father's Day obligations (and other holidays) for her dad... but except for one year, that was never reciprocated, & the further away he fell from our lives the less I felt I ought to be making that effort. I finally resolved that if & when she was old enough to want to do things herself, I would help her in what she wanted to accomplish, but I'm not going to initiate interest for her. Somehow it seems like a bad idea to teach her to run her heart & soul after someone who doesn't reciprocate!

So yeah, little resentment there. Hey.. I'm human! Anyway... so there's never really been anyone around to set any sort of example re: "honoring" Mom on Mother's Day in any way. My parents, of course, do their part, but they're a couple hours away. That's very very nice, & someday she will remember that. But little kids need a much more immediate example for anything to penetrate at this age.

So the holiday approaches with it's standard (for me) lackadaisical who-really-gives-a-damn-and-do-I-need-to-find-time-to-work-in-the-P's-this-weekend flair. (Sometimes they go visit the OTHER kids in the family... so I can't just assume it's me doing either the travelling or the greeting.) It's lookin' pretty clear. Phone calls should do the trick, I might actually have a weekend of R&R! (As opposed to all the FUN we've been having lately -- yeah, it's been fun, but it's definitely not been R&R! lol)

Sometimes people say things or do things for you that touch you so deeply that there really is no reaction you can give that really represent how you feel. Yeah, sure you can say thank you, and do... but there is that very deep, very profound place in your soul where a simple thank you just does not suffice. Jumping up & down & cheering would be far too trivial. A smile is pleasant & not enough. A hug is nice but doesn't begin to cover it. Tears come close, but they do have a tendency to make people worry;) It's taken me several weeks to write about this -- this time, not because I did not have the time, but because I could not begin to find words. I have decided that these words, however trivial, will have to do.

This year on Mother's Day, I was remembered. Someone gathered B up into the gaggle of children & did what most Dads I know do with kids when one of those holidays come around: they not only remembered... but helped her in some small personal way to remember, honor, celebrate the things that Mom does. A funny little lamp now sits on my desk in some strange, painful-looking yoga pose, and I was given a very sweet card which will soon find its way into my 'forever' memoirs. The card only has B's signature on it in her 6-year-old spidery crawl. But there are other very different names there too... not written in pen&ink, although I see them very clearly. They are there as assuredly & indelibly as the ripples this Mother's Day created in the deepest, most silent & private part of myself. And I see more detail: the names there are written in the handwriting of the adult who led the way, who drove the car, who did the reading, and the buying, and the wrapping, who helped make the choices, not only of what to do & what to get... but how to be excited about doing something nice for someone else - who chose to include us & remember me as one of their own. If it seemed at all that my thank-you's that morning were blase... please know that sometimes what you can see fails utterly to represent that which sits in my heart.

Mom,
You're a Gift to Our Family

You have a unique talent
for getting the most out of life,
then so graciously giving it back.
Your gentle humor and warm caring
give so much enjoyment
to everyone around you
especially to our lucky family.
Happy Mother's Day.

06/03/06 - Birthday Wishes

2006-06-05T15:58:00.000-06:00

OK... With the new job & all, I don't know whether I'll have time to write up the entire month of May for awhile... & I don't want to wait to write up the Birthday party, so I'll just have to go back & retro-add May later.

I had SUCH a great birthday!!! It really began at the Lake over Memorial Day weekend, when Bauer presented me with my new CHAIR! Yeah :) I've been drooling over (& swiping - this may have just been self-preservation on his part) his camping chair with footstool installed for a couple of summers now, & he found me one for my birthday. (#15) YEAH!!! John & Tom set up my tent gear for me before I got there, with Tom making an executive decision about who goes where (#15), putting all the kids in my big tent AWAY from us adults. That may have technically had nothing at all to do with my birthday, but as far as I'm concerned, the birthday goodness began then :) (Birthdays don't have to just be one little day, do they?)

Wednesday evening, Tammy&Mike took me out for supper & I got to bring Toby home to visit for a couple of weeks. Then this Thursday night I got to meet up with Amy over across the river for some looong awaited girl-time at Steak-n-Shake. (#11) We need that every now & then, & even though we talk all the freakin' time & do stuff with various segments of the group, I'm a very strong proponent of the concept that in any group of people, every combination of folks needs some time that is just theirs. One-on-one, just the two of you. Doesn't always have to be a lot, or doing anything significant (in fact, probably better if you're doing nothing really), just time for the two of you to connect in your own way without all the other vectors & distractions getting mixed up in your interactions.

The day of my actual birthday, before the sun even thought about having a chance to shine its horrid self in my poor little eyes, I got to cozy up all friendly-like (#15) with someone I'm really starting to care a whole lot about & share some things close to the heart. (#4) I got a lot of good feedback & it was easily 3:00 or 3:30 in the morning before we decided we were yawning more than talking and that horizontal would be a much better place to be. I'm not sure I'm fully clear & that all the little bothery bits are completely gone, but just by making the effort & taking the chance to talk I felt SO much better, warm & loved :)

Then the kids managed to stay quiet long enough that everyone got to sleep in. (#14,15) Did I mention feeling warm & loved? Double that! Twice!

Amy&I skipped yoga in the morning, all of us opting for a late lazy breakfast instead. 's all good... I was thinking at the time that I was going to get my yoga fix a bit later as Bauer & I were going to go to a lunch-hour class over on my side of the river. Chris has never done any yoga, so we need to make sure he gets to at least a couple of Basic classes before he can join Amy & I on some of our Saturday am jaunts if he wants, and I really want to get him in over here at Sukha. I still think Sarah is the best instructor I've worked with to date!

Well... we made it to class on time in the afternoon, only to find out there wasn't a class! They've had a little instructor turn-around & apparently the Saturday Basic class went ptchiew! right out the window. Darn it!! So nooooo yoga for Amy on her birthday (#13) :( S'alright.. instead, Chris was an AWESOME sport & tailed me around town for a couple of hours getting some errands & shopping done that have been on my list of to do's with no time to do them. Those weren't on the official birthday list, but you know how I am about lists... & getting those completed was a great relief.

The last shopping bit we did WAS on my list, though: Fish for the pond! (#10) I was a bit hesitant about trying them again so soon, but hey... it's my birthday. The goldfish & koi at the store were looking a bit sickly, so I decided to try something different, & brought home two silver spotted catfish, a bumblebee catfish, and two Gouramis - one red, one tiger. They're very small in that size pond, and... Um... now I can't find them? either they've gotten snacked on or they're just hiding... I certainly hope the latter, 'cause there's a lot of mosquitoe larvae in that pond that needs to be munched up!

OH! & when we were giving the fish their new home, Chris pointed out to me the HUNDREDS of little tadpoles squirming about all over the bottom of the pond -- guess those poor frogs weren't just whistlin' Dixie when my neighbors were requesting that I turn them down, eh? Those should be really fun to watch develop over the next few weeks. Anybody want some frogs?

On the way home with the fish, Chris insisted that we had one more pit stop to make but wouldn't tell me what or where until we were almost on top of it... he wanted to buy me FLOWERS! :) He took Bailey in with him & let her pick out the colour, coming back out with a dozen beautiful pale pink roses. It's always a good sign when a man knows enough about flowers to start trimming the ends before they go in water.. hmmm... Chris, you are ever full of surprizes! We put them in a nice clear glass vase with a little pink ribbon around it when we got home, & today they've opened slightly, looking absolutely beautiful. If I can get my camera working, I'll post a pic of them later :)

Back home to TRY to get a bit of a nap (#13) before the circus, & not much luck with that either... but I did get a teensy bit of a backrub & an explanation that the original plan was to somewhere work in a real massage (#13) aaallll for me. Unfortunately ...lol... that didn't work out, either! Since I suggested Chris just ride to IL with me & leave his truck in STL, he had right quick swapped his table into T&A's vehicle when I wasn't looking. Then they got delayed a bit, weren't coming into IL quite as planned, didn't stay the night... there just wasn't any good timeframe in there where table, Chris & I were in the same place & by ourselves for more than 20 minutes. Umm.. can I take a raincheck on that, Chris? Maybe after that pinky is really truly & fully healed? I'll reciprocate! :D

Then we girls took the kids to the circus, while Tom appropriated my house to bake a cake. (At least that's what they SAID he was doing - I haven't talked to the neighbors yet to confirm or deny.) I decided to forego the elephant rides at the circus this year -- they just didn't look quite as appealing when I realized they were cramming 6-8 people on them for each ride. The older girls went, though, & thought it was great.

After the circus, I was informed that there were people awaiting our return back at my house, (ACK! Vacuum, dust, dishes, laundry, make bed.. ACK! Aw... screw it.. they don't care, & they're already there, anyway. lolol) so we headed that way. I mentioned Tom was baking a cake while we were gone, didn't I? Holy cow, that man has inventive mixed with ornery in every bone in his body. I'm not TELLING you what he did with flour & water & icing... & tubing & a water bottle... but it was SO funny I REALLY REALLY wish Amy had let me go to the bathroom before they let me see it. It was GOOD, too. Still licking icing off my .. um.. fingers. ;) You'll have to try harder than that to get me in the orbs, though, boys. Care to take another shot?

Before long we all piled into the 'burban & headed for a VERY late supper at... The Cheesecake Factory!! Oh, yum, yum, double yum :) I had the chicken picatta & a chocolate martini... people I love all around me... almost every cell in my body was happy for one reason or another :) I'm having the leftovers for lunch today, too :) I had to skip the cheesecake, 'cause by the time it was time for dessert, there just wasn't room & the warm happy lassitude was taking over very very quickly. A little ice cream sundae with a candle, though.. (& another chocolate martini) and although there were some complaints that I didn't get enough on my face... somehow, I think that's more ironically appropriate for me to have gotten it all in my mouth where it belonged, while the boys have ended up with theirs all over the place on their birthdays.. Yes?

Then we all came back to my house to watch one of my other birthday presents: The Rocky Horror Picture Show! There was some talk of everyone dressing the parts (I'm fairly sure I could come up with something for everyone.), but that happy lassitude I mentioned earlier & an excellent dinner (I'm NOT blaming it on the drinks. I'm NOT!) really took it's toll. Only one of our knightly heroes deigned to play our little game before we hit play on the DVD... and let me tell you, the intermission was WORTH it! Holy crap, it's been a looooonnnnng time since I've seen anything that sexy. Surprized me! I sooooo wanted a picture for my own private little momentoes. I guess I'll just have to settle for replaying a few of those moments in my head til the thinker wears itself out. He left the garter on for awhile after putting his own clothes back on, too -- I would have never believed how a tiny little strip of lace could make a thigh muscle ripple & draw one's attention like that. If guys knew what sort of effect that could create, they'd spend a lot more time at Friedrich's, I'm telling you! You're just lucky there were people around, mister.

I think everyone headed home around 3am.. so yet another loooong night. Sleep. Sleep is good. Dreams. Dreams are better :)

Birthday isn't over... last night I couldn't sleep until around 3am (gee.. wonder why?), so I got most of my office floor cleaned up (#8) & can now walk without tripping over stuff. Once I get the bills paid this week, I think I may order some new contacts (#12), John & Tom are going to try to come out & finish the electrical in my yard next week some time (#5), Stacy may work on the curtains this week (#9), & even if she doesn't, Tom said he could probably whip them off right quick some afternoon or evening very soon. I still have to find time to get together with the P's (#1) - I'm sure it'll get worked in somewhere within a few weeks... & I may yet work in the cable (#6), the screen door (#7), & the happy combo (#13) before the month is out, too... just depends on how things go.

Yep. My friends kick ass. That's all there is to it.

P.S. If you missed them from above, here was my list... and I don't want to hear any more *(%*& about birthday lists not getting fulfilled!!

Fresh strawberries & cream with my mom
A heartfelt hug good morning & good night from Bailey
A day without temper tantrums
T,C & A to fix whatever is "off"
Electrical done in yard
Cable wire in house finally finished
New front screen door to match the back
My office clean & organized (but I have to do it)
Curtains hemmed!
Go pick Fish for pond (?)
Steak N Shake time with Amy
Eyes that work without glasses
Yoga / massage / sleep til I wake. In that order!
To not wake up alone
Misc stuff I'm not even going to put in print

What Do You See?

2006-06-01T07:41:00.000-06:00

When you look at me, what do you see?

Do you see skin you wish to touch
A hand you wish to hold
Lips to kiss
A body to press up against

Do you see eyes into which you wish to gaze
To see the soul inside
To watch laughter ripple
And sorrow melt away

Do you see this soul which loves you
The person deep inside
The one that thinks and hurts and loves
That lives there day to day

Do you see someone you want to spend
Forever getting to know
Sharing lives, sharing love
Sharing this family around us which grows

Or do you only see a conquest
Another notch to earn
One more goal on a path to nothing
That you can strip then toss and burn

Perhaps you see a duty
Not abhorrent but not your desire
You care only enough not to leave me out
Because someone else in your life cares more

Well I don't want to be a duty
A chore to cross of a list
I don't want to be third or fourth choice
When you're counting opportunities you might miss

And I'm not a path to nothing
I'm not something you should use
I'm here because I love you
Noone else, Nothing less... you

You are not a path to somewhere else
You are something all yourself
Something strong and strange and wonderful
Someone worth all the love and respect you can earn

You have grown so far in my esteem
In the time I've known you thus
A person in your own right
A soul worthy of respect... and trust

And yet the more I learn to know you
I see this child lying deep inside
Scarred, scared and frightened
Rebellious, defending its shredded pride

Children can be cruel sometimes
They think only of themselves in the world
Of how much of this or how much of that
They can beg borrow steal and hoard

And when they're thinking of themselves
There's no room for anyone else
No gracious sacrifice, no giving of self
Nor helping others in your life balance that for which they yearn

And none either of the joy
That comes in sharing with the ones you love
None of the deepest pride in knowing
You make a difference, you are whole, you are loved

The waters that run are in you and of you
But not all & only you - It's a system that needs support
It needs all of us here to balance it
Damage one, damage all... that's how it works

I'm not playing some little game
Of he has her she has him its my turn
Nor do I want to steal you
From other loves in their turn

I don't want to be part of petty little
small-natured selfish things
I don't want to fail to care for the others
Who share our time and our lives and our schemes

You are strong and you are intelligent
You are handsome and you are brave
You have heart and soul and patience
You are tender and fierce and yet you play

You have become so many marvelous things
As you've journeyed from child to adult
The choices you've made have tempered you
Into someone worthy of far more than simple lust

I want a love that is bigger
that gives as well as receives
You've shown me a glimpse of something marvelous
That I thought existed only in books & dreams

And I'm willing to set my feet upon
This strange path which before us lies
But before I go
I need to know

When you look at me,
What is it you want?
What is it you need?
What is it exactly, my friend..
That You see?

~~ Sierra Jacobus, 06/01/2006

04/26/06 - Schools

2006-05-31T05:33:00.000-06:00

One other thing in April, then I can go get a few winks of sleep before dawn... but without having gotten to the recent stuff I really needed to write about to begin with, either, darn it! Ah well... perhaps the urge will pass while I'm whittling my memoirs onto the screen. :)

Schools.

What would YOU think if your child was in a school where the principal of the school said.. to your face.. that they really didn't have any faith or believe that your child could ever improve? I don't give a damn who your kid is or what their issues are... whether they're straight A perfect children or whether you've birthed the most awful hoyden that ever crossed the hallowed threshold of that sacred institution. Teachers (& teaching staff... like principals, superintendents, etc) are one of the professions that we trust in to continually offer Hope. Support. Guidance. A way to a better future for EVERYONE. We very much put in their hands the intimate hopes and possibilities of the thing most precious to us: our children.. and as a result, we also trust them with the dreams and the future of our entire nation. They're not ALLOWED to give up on kids. Even if as a person, in their deepest private heart they think someone is lost, professionally speaking they have no right to EVER make a statement like that out loud. Or even think it, in my opinion.

Wasn't B... she's been doing fine, and her teacher this year (Mrs. Kramer) has been WONDERFUL! But that's absolutely not the point. The leader of the school sets the tone, & that's not the sort of leadership I want my child to be under as long as I have a better choice.

So this month we went looking for some other options. We took a couple of tours, interviewed a couple of schools... and next year, our kids will be going to a different school. One with a principal who sounds as though she looks at the world through eyes a bit more like ours, and to whom we both immediately took a liking to. It's more inconvenient than where we were, but I think it's a better choice. I went to the same school all my life, and I really wanted to be able to give B that, too, although I know the world is changing. She'll have to change schools again in high school anyway(there aren't many that go K-Sr anymore) & I suspect our lives may change again in terms of geography or makeup before she's done, making yet another change probable. She's really good at making friends, though, and at least for now she'll still get to see some of her old friends at soccer & T-Ball practice as well as at daycare in the summer, so with luck & love all will be well.

Dang.. there goes my alarm. No rest for the wicked! :D

04/23/06 - 04/29/06 The Yard Sale

2006-05-31T04:59:00.000-06:00

This was the week of The Yard Sale. I had never been to a yard sale in my LIFE until I met Stacy... it's allll her fault. Now I've got to hit 'em when I see 'em, sometimes we grab a paper & make the rounds, & every year we manage to hold at LEAST one yard sale ourselves to get "stuff" out of the house in a more monetarily productive fashion than Freecycle or simply donating. (Although that IS what happens with whats left when we're done.)

But this year was a fiasco. Stacy swears she'll never have another yard sale in her life! (I'm not sure I believe her.. or even that I'll let her stick to it even if she means it.)

We were doing GREAT up until the second day of the yardsale itself. I took a couple of days off during the week, and Tom came over to help as long as he wasn't needed at work elsewhere, too. (See what I mean? Just showing up everywhere!) With that time, we pulled out all the loads & loads of stuff we'd been stockpiling as "ok to go" & got it priced to sell. Friday went FINE... excellent traffic even though our ad didn't make it into the paper, sold quite a lot of stuff, nice weather, even sold my phone number to one aspiring gentleman! (Hey.. it was a yard SALE, not a giveaway. lolol)

Then Saturday hit. Cold, drizzly... no prospects on the calendar for it to clear up, either. HOWEVER.. we were prePARED for that! Stacy had managed to get her hands on three 10x10 pop ups plus one 10x20 pole tent, Tom had staked them FIRMLY into the ground, we cable-tied tarps all around them & except for forgetting the hot chocolate (which we made a run to town for), a little rain wasn't about to set us back. We even actually had a nice little run of traffic in the morning - die-hard yard salers out in spite of the weather... that sort doesn't even flinch when they step from the car into a bit of soggy grass.

But the cold & drizzle was really getting to us, Stacy & I were getting crabby & sniping at one another, traffic wasn't "all that", & we really wanted to be able to make it to Carson's Birthday party in the afternoon. So about 11:30a we decided to call it quits & pack up. We were tired. We were wet. We were cold. We were bitchy.

It seems that Stacy & I shouldn't bicker. It screws up the weather system over the entire county. Like the Witches of Eastwick! In the span of about 10 minutes, the wind kicked up from 6mph to over 40mph (we checked WeatherBug after it was all over), & we had a real emergency on our hands.

After hauling in the first load, we sat down for a minute to get warm, & when we stepped back outside, it was apparent there had been a dramatic change in the weather -- the sky looked like a horrible storm was brewing, the wind was atrocious, & all 4 of the tents were straining dangerously at their tie downs. We RACED over to try to get them down -- the tarps we had so securely fastened with cable ties were great protection against rain, but were now making them pretty effective balloons & we had only one utility knife between us. I started slashing cable ties while Stacy tackled the legs of the pop ups trying to get them down lower to the ground. As we were trying to get her mom's (10x10, all steel, commercial grade pop up) dropped, I looked up & saw Stacy's face & turned around just in time to see the really big one (10x20, heavy steel legs & frame)pull it's roots & go tumbling over my car (2 dents) & down the yard end over apple cart .... towards the road! Their house has a fairly long drive -- it's maybe the length of 2 city blocks from house to road. Believe me, we hauled some butt to catch it. I told Stacy that outside of people that were in PE with me in High School, she is now the only person to have ever seen me run.... and if she'd been paying any attention at all, she'd know why B is so darn slow! Every time we aaaalmost had it ... within fingertip reach!, the wind blew it back out of our hands again. I really thought it was going to go into the road & we were going to end up with an accident or a major pile up on the highway. Then one leg of the tent caught in the fence & Stacy was able to jump on top of it on that end... whereupon it promptly almost pulled HER off her feet & take her with it... but that gave me just enough time to get ME on the darn thing & we got it turned upside down where we could pop the rest of the tarp off of it & render it still & silent(er).

At that point, we still had three tents left, though all in major distress, & raced back to where they were... found that the legs on her mom's pop up had crumpled at the join, so we did just enough to slice the rest of the top & tarps off so it wouldn't create a hazard & abandoned it for the other two. Those two (10x10s) were newer, so the legs dropped easier on them, & the releases on the top were much quicker to get too, too. Still, we lost one of those when two of the plastic joins broke... but they also had 2' steel stakes through their legs into the ground
thanks to Tom!) & the combination of design meant they at least stayed where they were & didn't go flying towards the road.

Then we had to go pull tarps up -- although we had gotten them down & most were under the frames of the tents, they were still flapping alarmingly in the heavy winds & inching their way from safety... so back we went, running some more, to gather those in so they didn't create another hazzard. After pulling the three large connected tarps into the garage (ALL this is at top speed, mind you!) -- it took both of us to do it & we were blown backwards one step for every three all the way there -- I could NOT catch my breath & promptly leaned over & threw up. Um.. at least the tarps are liquid-proof? Ew!

Then we stood for a second to contemplate the scene, & saw that the wind was now attacking the piles of clothes that had once been UNDER the tents.... bunches of them were 1/2 down their yard towards the road... but they at least were getting weighted down quickly by the moisture on the grass from the rain & none of them ever got all the way to the end before we could gather them up.

We were very lucky that it wasn't actually raining most of this time (in other ways, too!) & none of the actual "stuff" was really damaged. Lots of it is dirty now & needs a scrub... we had about 12 loads of laundry to run through to get all the "to sell" clothes clean & dry again... and then had to tackle repairing or replacing the tents. Got lucky there, too -- The wind & the tumbling crumpled several of the straight pieces of the frame at the joins, but all the cross sections (which would be much harder to fabricate) made it unscathed... so we were actually able to find replacement straights for FREE & John cut them to appropriate lengths. The ruined commercial pop up was more difficult -- that specific one is no longer in production, so replacement parts could not be had. But Stacy found a similar one for less than we expected (about $200, I think). She's still looking/hoping for replacement plastic parts to fix hers... but she found hers on clearance for $40 each... so if we can't fix it, we're just calling that one a loss at this point.

Soo.... Saturday between us we did about $300... and Sunday between us we did about $13, then lost three tents, putting us solidly in the hole for the weekend. NOT THE BEST YARD SALE WE'VE EVER HAD!! (& still not done with all that laundry...)

04/16/06 - 04/22/06 Painting

2006-05-31T04:46:00.000-06:00

Tom & Amy have been talking about redoing their upstairs. Paint.. new flooring... but first Paint! With all the festivities lately, I know (oh, boy do I know!) there hasn't been a whole lot of time to get things done around the house, let alone big projects. Painting can either be a pain-in-the-butt onerous task, or it can be a blast & a half, the difference is in the company you keep. So when I heard mutterings about needing to get the painting done, I put on mah paintin' clothes & got my butt on over there! Hey... they braved a big ol' mean rose bush for me, I can SURE "brave" a painting spree for them :)

Holy crap did we have FUN!! Tom, Amy, O'Amy & Larry whipped out cans of paint, plastic sheeting, ladders, paint brushes, & some good ol' 80's music & spent SEVERAL hours slathering on the new colour over all the sanding & patching & prep work Tom had been doing the week before. (ok, a little over us, too) Bauer cheered us on by phone, George of the Jungle made a guest appearance, & after a couple of deep breaths, Amy did the highwire act for the evening with exceptional aplomb. Now the upstairs is a really really pretty shade of green (moonfrost? spring tide?)!! Then we went downstairs to watch a coupla-three episodes of Coupling & relax for a few.
Dang, that show is FUNNY!

Maybe I'm wrong... maybe this is just the month of Tom! lol I'm looking at my calendar & that ornery little critter is just popping up all over the freakin place. This was also the week that he called me & said, "Hey, whatcha doin' for lunch?" Half distracted, I indicated I had nothing planned, why.... then he HONKED, & it reverbrated both through the phone and through my open window.. the stinker had come all the way across the river & was sitting in my driveway! So we went to drag Stacy out of her lazy little bed & swipe some of the YUMMY leftover BBQ pork steaks I knew were in the fridge :D

04/15/06 Tom's Birthday

2006-05-31T04:24:00.000-06:00

This is definitely the Year of the Birthdays, and Tom's birthday ROCKED!!!

Once again, we were looking for fun & different ideas -- seems to be becoming a trademark of sorts? We certainly have enough creativity & intelligence & just plain 'ol fun in the group to be able to kick some up! This one was a hybrid: mostly Amy, with a cup of Stacy & a pinch of O'Amy thrown in for spice :)

So it's Easter weekend, right? What is Easter without a little Easter egg hunt! First we went for dinner: Tom, Amy, Bauer, O'Amy, John, Stacy, Speedy, Amberly, Melissa, Shaun, Lisa. (Tammy&Mike didn't make it) While we were out, the kids had fun with the babysitter hiding plastic Easter eggs in our back yard for US to find when we returned. Each of us had to find one orange egg, which contained a #1 or #2, and at least 4 other eggs, each of which contained a piece of candy and... a Scavenger Hunt item!

The numbers designated which team we were on. John & I volunteered to be the designated drivers... 'cause the Scavenger Hunt was designed to take us allllll over town. We had til 11:30p, then we were to meet at Wild Country to tally up & see who was to win the all important CHOCOLATE BUNNY.

Here's the scavenger hunt list... I'll let YOU picture just how much freakin' fun we had with this. lolol

Ground rules:
1) If it's an action, you must get a picture
2) No item may be obtained from any original scavenger hunt participant
3) Items, pictures, people etc cannot constitute more than one scavenger hunt item
4) WE TRUST YOU… NO CHEATING!

List:
3 napkins or coasters w/ bar logo, signed by bartender
an actual person - must leave one location & travel with you to end location (ok to drive their own vehicle)
Phone number of the phone booth at _______________________
How many swings are at ____________ park?
5 signed business cards (signed by that person, & all 5 different people)
Take out menu from any Chinese restaurant… with a sauce spot on it
Promotional pen w/ business name on it
Find a bar with 7 letters in the name
Bar of hotel soap
Go to the Fountain in Belleville, each person toss a coin in & make a wish.
A grocery coupon from a grocery store
Get a picture of a comb over / toupee…. (yes, on a person)
Fancy condom - ie) coloured, a tickler, etc. Extra Large or ribbed does not constitute "fancy"
3 brands of smashed burnt out cigarette butts
Picture of a non-IL, non-MO out of state license plate
Picture of the group (or group-photographer) next to population sign for Belleville, Swansea, Fairview Heights, or O'Fallon
A church bulletin
2 helium-filled balloons w/ different logos on them
Obtain lipstick kiss-print from someone not in the party onto someone in the party … on any body part of your choice
Receipt for 50 cents worth of gas, paid in cash
plastic clothes hanger
cocktail umbrella
Find someone with a picture of their child or grandchild in their purse or wallet… get them to let you take a picture of them holding that picture
Picture of one of your party kissing a complete stranger
1 logo'd condiment package (logo'd w/ the place you got it from)
1 used McDonald's sandwich wrapper
2 signatures from 2 different band members from any band playing in the area tonight (include name of band & bar)
Picture of anything with "Git 'er Done!" on it
1 bank deposit envelope
Picture: at least 1 member of your party + at least 2 strangers playing ring-around-the-rosy with 1 other member of your party in the middle
Picture of a tattoo … on a person… that would be covered by standard shorts & T-shirt
Picture with a Denny's employee in uniform
A Lifesaver.
Pictures of each member of your party riding one of those quarter machines outside stores (may cost more than a quarter) Pictures cannot all be on the same machine.
1 Easter Egg
Smiley face sticker from WalMart
Sticker from a grocery store (Schnucks / Harts etc) (the ones they give kids / mark merchandise with to show it was purchased)
1 newspaper in the plastic sleeve from someone's lawn
1 fresh-picked flower
Create a petition, obtain 10 signatures… 10 different people, multiple locations

I can only give you the funnest bits from OUR group, since I wasn't with the others.. but let's just point out that a) it is almost impossible to find a condom machine in a gas station bathroom these days.. but they're cleaner than they used to be b) Those little horsey-riding machines aren't made for adult butts, but DAMN, they're sturdy! c) Playing ring around the rosey with strangers in a grocery store parking lot at 11:00 at night is FUN and d) Any Bauer that can manage to get a church bulletin AND a kiss from a MORMON chick, after getting her to have us follow her home to get them on the Saturday night before Easter is a GOD

'Nuff said?

04/02/06 - 04/14/06

2006-05-31T03:59:00.000-06:00

Then there were a couple of really crappy weeks with glimmers of light in them. I spent the better part of the time sick, achy, generally down & out. My car crashed & had to go back into the shop. Other things, too -- just a plethora of nasty.

At the same time, Stacy's grandpa passed away & HER life got totally ugly for a little while. It's not as though it was unexpected, but sometimes that makes very little difference in the scheme of things. Even bad things you know are coming are still bad, & still hurt. He left behind him quite a lot of family, but notably his wife of a LOT of years, who spent her entire life taking care of him. He was her life. Screw MY bad week... how do you think SHE feels? She's got Alzheimer's, too, so the family had the additional ugly task of explaining to her every.. single.. day... sometimes multiple times in the day... that Grandpa was gone. And every single time was as though it was the first time she finds out. Now THAT is crappy. For everyone. And then try to explain to her that she's not going to be able to live at home anymore, either. They'd moved Grandma & Grandpa into assisted living b/c of Grandpa's rapidly declining health & need for nursing care... but Grandma needed to be there, too (just wouldn't admit it). Now a new home & a new life. Ick. Double... triple ick.

But amidst all the bad stuff.. I did mention glimmers of light shining through, didn't I? Friends in shining armour on white chargers & that sort of thing? Tom & Amy appeared out of nowhere one night for no reason other than to be what friends are supposed to be: THERE! Dug in & got a couple of big tasks taken care of that had been weighing on me, which was nice, but didn't begin to measure up to them just showing up in the first place :)

After the funeral, BADLY needing release & a break from the bad stuff, I drug Stacy along with Bauer & I to a birthday party of a friend of Bauer's at Train Wreck. Some really neat people, than man knows, he does!

On our way there, Stacy&I realized that Saddle Ridge is only about 50 steps away, & determined that barring unforseen events, we'd try to make it over there for last call to see what it was like. Not bad! Dance floor could have been a tad bigger, but having a mechanical bull in the other room sort of makes up for it. & I didn't see it that night, but someone said they have karaoke in another room, too??? Have to try that some other time. So we moseyed up for a coupla beers, made our rounds, looked for familiar faces here & there, finding fewer than we anticipated. We did find one.. well, he found us: Michael Taff appeared out of nowhere to pop over & say howdy :) Silly man, asked me for my number AGAIN! I think it's becoming something like "Who's on First".

Then Stacy & I found the dance floor for awhile & had just started to wonder how the heck we were going to get home when (re)appeared BAUER!! YEAHH!!!! White knight, saviour, yadi yadi yadi... other party broke up & he came to find us :) We left my car to fend for itself & Bauer took the helm, driving us to... (Bloomin' Juvenile Idiots!) POPS!

If you've ever been to Pops, you don't need a resurrection of the rest of the ev.. uh.. morning. And if you haven't.. well.. let's just say we did NOT make it onto the wall of shame. To the best of my knowledge, anyway! Then home & to bed, which felt ooooohhhh so good. Oh yes... "COP!!" lololololol

04/01/06 - Fun Things

2006-05-31T03:41:00.000-06:00

OMG did we have fun today, or WHAT?!?!

We started with a run to Gringo Jones to try to find a statue for my awesome new bedroom (still no luck). Okay, no, wait... we STARTED with yoga in the morning - much goodness! Then shopping.

Then Tartan Days in St Charles - down to the river front to see the parade (way cool), stopped at The Enchanted Attic to pick up a couple of crystals, found a little English place with Bisto (yum!), & a couple of bottles of wine for Stacy at the winery.

Then eventually we move into evening. A couple of days earlier, Stacy says, "I want to do something DIFFERENT." Since we've been sharing the brain, that's a good thing... I don't have to talk quite as much ;) So we went hunting for some "different" sort of activity, and what did we find? The Vagina Monologues! The name itself was enough to give me the giggles. It's a play, & was being done locally. We did some titty twisting (the regular ol' arm kind just wasn't quite enough) & got the guys to go along, promising liquid libation aplenty after.

So it was definitely something different. Cool little... LITTLE... TEENY TINY theatre in downtown Belleville. Not quite as funny as promised, but it had a couple of moments, & certainly added a little bit o' somethin somethin to the catalogue of our activities for the year.

Then we giggled & stumbled our way across the street to this Irish pub where lo & behold, a really kick ass sort of band was playing Celtic tunes. Again, something different! Made my toes tap & my butt wiggle! lol The bunch of us moseyed up to the bar & ordered a round, then another, & as we realized we could actually TALK over this band, still enjoy the music & each other at the same time, we stuck around. The group sort of amoeba'd in this amorphous blob in the middle of the room, most likely annoying the regulars, trading stories & little bitty backrubs & drinks & laughter til they closed down on us.

Then what did we do? Bloomin' juvenile idiots. (I say that with a grin on my face) We went to POPS! Well, ok.. we TRIED to go to Pops. They're sticklers about ID, & some folks didn't have theirs with. One would think that once you pass 30 it really shouldn't be necessary any more, wouldn't one? So what did we do instead? Uh... I think maybe we went to Denny's.. um.. somewhere. I'm not sure I remember. I think I fell asleep in the back of the 'burban.... 'cause by that time it was at least 2 or 3am & I'm getting too old for that sort of thing. lololololol

Anyway, it was good :)

Wednesday 05/31/06

2006-05-31T03:35:00.000-06:00

Holy Hells, Batman... do I have some catching up to do or WHAT?!?

I have some writing to do, but it just doesn't seem fair to skip all the good stuff in the middle... particularly since I was not-so-recently chided for appearing to be unbalanced due to my tendency to dump the crap out here & keep the goodies to myself. lol.

Let's see.. let's start with Tom's Birthday :) No.. wait!! Let's begin the first of April...

One Night Nuthin'

2006-04-15T13:27:00.000-06:00

Tonight I'm lookin' for a one-night nuthin
I'm not lookin for that one-life somethin

A flare of passion
In a heathen den
Go out alone
Come home with him

I been findin ones that seem they'll be the ones that stay
But they're the ones that hurt when they go away

So now I'm lookin for a one night nuthin
Come on Darlin' - what do you say?
Buy me a beer
and show me the way

Woudn't you like to be my one night nothin?
Maybe a week or a month
If we like it enough
Then we can go our separate ways
No worse off than we are today

I've got a hole to fill in a heart that hurts
Let's smother it with whisky
As we laugh out loud and flirt
Swing me round that hard wood floor
Put your hand on the small of my back when we leave through the door

Just don't ever tell me you're plannin to stay
That's not a game right now
that I'm willing to play

Hit the the road before you love me
Move along before I care
Sweeten sorrow with a kiss
Or fuck me on a dare

Hey, Baby.. whaddaya say?
Wanna be the one that doesn't go away?
Well I'm not looking for that tonight anyway.
That's on a real long list I prob'ly ought to throw away
A list we put a title on & called "Someday"

I'm just lookin for a one-night nuthin
Wishin it might turn out to be a one-life somethin

I don't expect to find it
Fairy tales are naught but mist
Come & be my one-night nuthin
show me what love might feel like
if it did really exist

Lyrics by Amy Kruse (04/14/2006)

Questions Hard to Answer 2 (and not nearly as pleasant as 1)

2006-04-13T06:08:00.000-06:00

"Where are you? How are you?..."

He sent me that in an email yesterday. How do I answer that? Do I tell him about how my body crashed when he bailed? I who am never ill finally laid out by some common bug b/c grief is the greatest anvil of them all, pounding me into oblivion. Should I tell about the three days shivering under covers unable to get warm yet sweating like it was 110 in my house, all the while remembering lying next to him while he was sick, taking care of him, feeling his fever break then come back in the night, trying to keep him warm, cool him off, take care of him while he was down & out... because I had to, because I wanted to, because I love him, and that's what you do with people you love? Do I tell him about how going to bed at night alone sucks? How about waking up in the morning & how much that sucks too? Do I tell him about how putting my watch back on (I haven't worn it in a year) feels like a heavy symbol of loss: I stepped out of time to be with him, now it resumes. Do I tell him about how I can't seem to be in the car for stretches longer than 15 minutes without my thoughts straying where they've been used to going for so long now... and having to dry my face & compose myself before I go in anywhere? How about how I finally realized I just have to keep kleenex in the car for awhile b/c my face was getting sore from wiping it off with napkins? Let's see.. should I tell him about all the long walks I've had to take before I go in to my friend's houses because once I start mourning this loss, I can't quite stop... and there's nothing they can do, they don't need to see this any more than they already do. How about how two weeks later I STILL have laryngitis that took my voice completely for four days, and would probably go away if I could just stop screaming at the sky in utter fury & frustration now & then? Maybe I should tell him about how Stacy's grandpa died, about trying so hard to be there for her & badly needing his shoulder to lean on? About how the grief of loss seemed to swirl up and get all confused with losing him & how that felt like such a betrayal? How about all the thoughts while I'm standing there in the middle of other people's pain about who will be with me when my family dies.. and knowing he no longer belongs by my side in that picture in my head? Maybe I should share all the other times that kaleidoscope after that - pictures of times that will not be? I could go on & tell him how that was amplified by realizing that all the people around me were having the same thoughts - grief is grief / loss is loss. Some may be greater, some lesser, some may have more tendrils of connection to severe... but it feels the same when you're going through it. How about I tell him how my daughter misses him too? Should I tell him that? Or maybe I should tell him about how even talking to someone new & interesting flops, because in the end, no matter how new & interesting they are, they're just not him, & I really thought I would be sharing all the new & interesting people that came along with him? Oooh.. I know.. maybe I should tell him about accidentally logging into his calendar because I was on autopilot & that's what I've done darn near every. single. day. for the last year and a half... then actually throwing up when I saw it? When, in a horrible split second, my mind's eye saw all those days & things he's doing that do not & will not include me? I don't want to go there any more... that was rough. How about finding his picture in my purse where I had forgotten I had folded it so carefully so long ago to carry him with me? Telling my co workers yesterday that there would be no more anecdotes & watching the look in their eyes change as they realize that once again I am the undesireable? Finding him out of my head only when I'm fourteen sheets to the wind drunk on my ass stupid? Then realizing that if I can think that, then he's not out of my head after all? How about telling him what an odd mix of warmth, grief, comfort, anger, torture and happiness it was to be in someone else's arms for a couple of hours when that someone was someone I can believe in? Maybe I should share how my friends have snuggled up around me, stepping in & taking turns, being there & supporting me without being intrusive? How they just appear here & there... taking time & initiative to simply BE there with & for me, taking care of me? ME! I who never lets anyone take care of me... and I let them... because I finally have nothing left to take care of myself. Should I then go on to point out how often he failed to do just that? Maybe I could point out to him how little he really cares about me with the example of a single incident: while we were talking together about this part of my life coming to an end, he answered his fucking cell phone. Twice. (No, it wasn't an emergency, or anyone in distress. They were purely social calls... & from the next love of the moment, no less.) I almost can't think of any better way to show someone how truly insignificant they or their feelings are to you than to answer your god damn cell phone when you're in the middle of an intimate conversation. How about I think of more pleasant things & explain how my friends silently seem to understand how great this grief is to me, how far into my soul I let him step, & how supperating is the wound with him gone? And then I would have to tell how there are no words to say how sweet it is that they know there is never any way to the other side of anything but through it... that grief must be felt & released & felt again & heal from the inside out. How they seem to understand it's not a matter of expunging him from some tiny corner, but a matter of removing him from every second that I breathe, & that's just not an easy thing to do? I could explain that this is a helpless place: his absence is shards of glass in my soul, but his presence - even once removed - just grinds them deeper. I cannot even imagine trying to explain what seeing him would be like, it's difficult to even consider. Maybe I could explain how my friends understand that I didn't ask him to be my man, my boyfriend, my lover, my only other.. I asked him to become family, I made him family in my heart, and in one short conversation he showed me he had never really accepted that invitation, nor understood it. How they don't ask me to hide this grief, or put it away because it's embarrassing to them, or not feel it at all... they just love me, & stand there reminding me with actions instead of empty words that they, at least, will remain... because they ARE family. They get it.

I can't possibly answer his questions with all that... or even any of that! It's just not socially acceptable. Not that that has stopped me all that often, but we're in a new ballpark now. I stepped into a sort of trust with him that he did not understand, that he rejected, and I can't go backwards... there is only ever forward or through. I can't trust him with my heart any more: he doesn't understand that, either. So how do I answer those questions?

The only socially acceptable answer I can think of is "I'm fine." And that would be a lie: I'm not 'fine' at all.

Part of the Process

2006-04-03T04:05:00.000-06:00

In a very real way, those few people who are my intimate friends are with me always. In my mind's eye, some part of them is always just a 1/2 a step within my reach. It is always as though if I made just 1/2 a step, just a 1/4 turn, I would find them there, waiting to be a part of every single experience large or small, public or private. Ready to share this laugh, that tiny sorrow, this interesting fact about something utterly inconsequential. Like when you are partners in a room of people, always acutely aware of where that other person is, who they are talking to, what sort of conversation they are having. Every now & then you share a glance & a smile that connects you more intimately than a kiss, and even as you have your own conversations with completely separate people, you are still a part of what is going on with them.

Removing someone from that place of intimacy within my self & my life is an exhausting process. Not only mentally, not just emotionally, but physically exhausting. One doesn't realize how many thousands upon thousands of thoughts you have in a single day, each one including - even if as a shadow of presence or possibility in the background - those intimate someones.

Now there is, wearily put back in place, a conscious trigger to edit every thought, every feeling, every nuance of possibility that crosses my path: Remove Them. "Oh, and then we could ... " remove them. "Ooh... what if we...." remove them. "Oh, of course we'll have to include..." remove them. "Ah, what a lovely day to share with..." remove them. "I want..." remove them. "I need..." remove them. "I wish..." remove them. "What if..." remove them. "They would think..." remove them. "Right now, they would be..." remove them. "Mmm... that breeze on my skin..." remove them. "What a funny thing, I'll share...." remove them. Every leaf on every tree that leaps out at me as such a beautiful green carries with it a need to remove them from that 1/4 step of sharing... because that is where they have been. That has where I have trusted enough to let them in & where they have belonged, where I am accustomed to feeling their presence... and where they have finally said they never felt they truly belonged, and where they do not want to be. They have chosen. In some way or ways I am not enough, I am lacking, once again and still insufficiently desirable. My pool of intimate friends is one lighter (becoming one lighter): they are no longer to be a soft comfort that silently cushions every harsh thing the world contains. Remove them.

My body, never sick, breaks down under this invisible effort. The tears I cry are not only an emotional release, an anguished cry into the universe, but are sometimes simply a signal of physical exhaustion. I ache. Physically. Sleeping is either a fitful thing or an utter collapse for a few minutes or a few hours. Muscles cramp here & there as I do mundane nothings, tiny physical wounds become great barriers to movement. My sinuses fill, making my head feel filled with cotton & my ears throb as though surf were pounding large volumes of angry waves into a small closed cave. I have lost my voice... literally! Hoarse as the day begins, by evening speaking is a mighty effort & I cannot imagine having to talk on the phone & hold meetings when tomorrow's work day comes. I could not answer the phone when it rang tonight because I had no voice to speak, and sitting at a chat window sounds like nothing so much as a way to torture my lower back. Dammit to every hell that was ever conceived... love removed, trust aborted, desire stuffed back into some lonely cavern where it can scream & not bother anyone but myself. It screams & screams until it has no voice left; still screaming in a silent rictus, but certainly not bothering anyone else. Don't bother anyone else. Kill desire along with all those other thoughts. Oh yes, you must kill desire too. Remove them.

My other intimate.... my intimate friends surround me, pick me up & when I cannot take another step on my own, they carry me into tomorrow. Even as I laugh into the daylight and fill the weekend with frenetic activity... even as we tell stories of times when life was good & happy & laugh in excellent company... even as I give & receive comforting touches, caresses, hugs: those essential physical manifestations of comfort and caring and love... even as these people who love me send waves upon waves of reassurance that they at least will be here for an eternity of tomorrows... even as someone I love sits with me in silence, keeping me company through parts of this wake and sharing an indulgence in tiny tubs of ice cream... even then, thousands upon thousands of edits: remove them. They are not here, this is not where they wish to be: remove them.

Grief is a physical process as much as it is an emotional passage, and I am fully aware that at some point this too, shall pass. The intensity of any sorrow never remains as it begins. After awhile you become numb to the constant flaying, those nerve endings of self unable to provoke the same exquisite pain: eventually it will hibernate & hide somewhere deep inside, coming out from time to time to surprize you when you weren't expecting it. Over time it will come upon you less often, perhaps only in intense moments, sometimes in infinitely soft sorrows... but it will no longer be this constant conscious thing that it is now. I know this, I have been here before. I know how long it takes to walk this shadow of death - I am all too familiar with every intimate step. I know this is not something you can run faster through - it only expands to fit you.

So I... (*%&$~!. I wish they were here, now, in my arms.

Remove them.

When that Which you Imagined is Real

2006-03-31T08:24:00.000-06:00

I can't hold you and I can't leave you,/ and sorting through the reasons to leave you or hold you,/ I find an intangible one to love you,/ and many tangible ones to forgo you.

As you won't change, nor let me forgo you,/ I shall give my heart a defence against you,/ so that half shall always be armed to abhor you,/ though the other half be ready to adore you. ~ Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz From "A Satirical Romance"

Oh, that's so close to the flavours of what I feel...

Arming myself against you is a more painful task than I imagined. Harder even than forgetting you, at which I've tried before and failed and tried again. And then failed yet again. And it takes so long, and so much.... I don't know that I can.

I send an infinitely fathomless wail out into the Universe: It's not fair! Stop sending me things that are so close to right that I can't see the difference. I would rather have nothing! NOTHING! than be always within a hand's breadth of a heaven that won't let me in.

I don't know how to do this again.

An Excellent Quote

2006-03-31T06:16:00.000-06:00

... as this began, and we reached for mutual understandings...
"Please, will you touch me while I talk? Don't say anything, just touch me closely and intimately and nakedly... while I strip myself naked with words. Please?" -- Time Enough for Love, Heinlein

... as this falters, and I try to explain the connections and differences for me between people & types of relationships...
When you take away my ability to touch you, you take away my ability to heal. It is like putting a physician in a room with sick people, refusing him instruments or medicine or even bandages, and telling him to do his job. You frustrate a natural talent that longs to be free.

... as I cry, still... and again....
Seeing you now - with us as something less than - is like giving a starving man food... but not enough food to keep him alive: only enough to titillate his senses for a brief moment, and yet leave him knowing it's not enough to keep him alive. Then chide him, insisting that he should be grateful he got food at all.

One of Many

2006-03-28T03:35:00.000-06:00

I am a little bit of each of these women who have passed through your life:

I am Angela, hot tears falling on your chest
as I contemplate the next however-long of life without you
holding the breath of my heart until I see you again
dealing inside with an eternal 'yay'
while getting all too often from you an unexpected nay
as you sporadically turn tail and run
inside... outside...
from people you claim to care for deeply
Will you throw away every rare second chance Life offers you?

I am Terri, able and willing to see you
"when I see you"
to let little pieces of life go on apart from one another
carrying my care for you with me in complete security
and yet finding
sometimes you carry that too far. That when you fail to miss me
I start to question whether I'm confident and secure
or just foolish
Finding that not sharing some important moments...
and some mundane moments... leaves me
angry... unfulfilled... missing you
more than I expected. Wanting to fix that. Trying to fix that.
Finding you not there.
Will you let me stay angry & unhappy even when I tell you how to fix it?

I am Lena, willing to change
even myself, to find some way to wrap my life around you
just to have you in it
moving oh, so carefully
so that the shards of hope you left within me
don't grind their sharp edges
too deeply into that wound in my soul
that I call you.
That pain isn't romantic. It's pain. 'Soft steerage' isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I am Carol, confident in self
knowing moments of magic and truth when they appear
knowing what potential feels like
thrilling to its glorious possibility
and yet,
knowing that potential between people
must be grabbed by both people
grasped tightly and ridden for all its worth
or it will never stay alive
I challenge you to grab me tight & never let me leave
Or will you simply watch me walk away again?

I am, I imagine, a little bit of many other women
Who have passed through your life
Loving you on the way
Women who stroked a little bit of your soul
Turned your head for a moment
Perhaps you have mentioned them, & I have forgotten their names
Perhaps even you have forgotten their names
Although I doubt it
I think there is a list long and ponderous
like a death knell
that you hear tolling deep inside every time you contemplate "love"

Greater than the sum of all those smart, beautiful women
I am also more
I am the Universe,
Reaching out to you with second chances
With gentle recriminations, but also with explanations
Meeting you more than halfway
Trying again and again to rephrase, reformulate, reconfigure
what needs to be said, done, felt
hoping that the lessons you kid yourself you've learned
seep through and become learned in spite of yourself
They are important lessons
They must be learned
the Universe will continue to send them, and get less kind
as repetition continues
I think I am still one of the kind attempts of that Great Beyond.
Is it that you like the pain that ignoring the Universe brings you?

and Lesser than the sum of all those smart, beautiful women
I am me
Simply myself.. attractive only in my own way
smart only in my own fashion
unique only in that I am a slightly different combination
of so many things you look for in every woman you meet
yet I am self aware
and I have arms that have held you in the depths of night
and yearn to do so again
eyes that have watched you sleeping as dawn greys through window shades
lips that have touched your skin in passion and in the soft surcease of healing
I have received you into myself:
body, life, soul...
a bold and inventive visitor you are!
and though I settle a place for you in each of those
a place all yours, decked out as best I can in ways you like
still you remain a visitor
you hold yourself apart from home
ready at a moment's notice to flee

I am torn. Deeply in division inside myself
over you
Part of me argues hotly that I need to stand firm
a strong balwart against the tides of your own insecurities
Leave open always a welcoming haven within myself
Ready to take you in when you are weary
Offer surcease from all doubt
giving Love in all its many forms
While another part of me keens in anguish
Crying out that it cannot continue to
be ignored.. abandoned... disrespected
as you indulge in selfish squanderings of people
when you deliberately choose things that can wait
over people in pain

I've never asked for all of you
not all your time, nor all your heart
at least... not the way this world seems to think two people ought
I think 'this world' is wrong!
You need people and experiences and things
to fill the gaping crevases that open in your wanting
numerous and varied as the wrinkles in an old man's face
Things no one person could ever provide by themselves
and yet...
I do ask for all of you
all your time.. all your heart
but in a way 1/2 a step outside 'this world'.
I believe if you commit yourself to loving someone(s)
you will find space opens up
your life makes room.. your heart expands...
like partitioning the hard drive on a computer
there really isn't any more space than there was before
but it seems as though there is
and that's all that's really important --
perception is everything
the things you place there can remain safe
from experiments you may run on the other partition
everything runs more smoothly

I offer up a challenge
Not knowing if it's the last challenge I will ever offer you
Love me!
Love all of us!
In realtime.
Just don't bail on one when you're loving another.
Take one loong slooow deep breath...
and commit yourself to accepting all we each have to offer
half your energy is spent in rejecting offers that would free you for other things!
Grab on tightly and don't let go
When things look a little rough
I know you bail in order to find comfortable haven..
But TRY once or twice
to work through the rough parts, not avoid them
Brainstorm, offer solutions of your own, make this an active dialogue
Work through this with me, sit down & hash it out
Be open to solutions you may not have thought were possible
Til we have defined what we are & what we can be
In such a way that both of us are satisfied
If we can do that together
that comfortable haven you so crave
is just on the other side
Waiting for you.

--03/2006

Van Morrison in the Dark

2006-03-23T20:02:00.000-06:00

A recent interesting little Q&A session... & here's one of the answers:

What do I like to wear when listening to VM in the dark with a man? Hmm... I don't believe I have ever listened to VM in the dark with a man. Sad state of affairs, isn't it? (No pun intended ;-) ) Something about that music makes the rest of the world go away, so I'm guessing that clothes would be a superflous detail anyway -- VM sends me into my head... into my soul... into space.. into the ether.. somewhere other than this world. However, had I to hazzard a guess, I suspect that what I'd like most to wear, if I were in the situation to listen to VM in the dark with a man.... provided it was (of course), the right sort of man.... would be him.

Mmmm... ththrhrhrhththrhrhrhththhtr :)

Email Funny for the Day 03.23.06

2006-03-23T19:08:00.000-06:00

Five tips for a woman....

1. It is important that a man helps you around the house and has a job.
2. It is important that a man makes you laugh.
3. It is important to find a man you can count on and doesn't lie to you.
4. It is important that a man loves you and spoils you.
5. It is important that these four men don't know each other.

Ha!

Giving & Receiving

2006-03-21T18:23:00.000-06:00

I do not squander my resources.
I pour them out upon you
in a joyous libation
of unfettered caring.
Have you matured enough
to accept them in the spirit they are given?

--2004,2005,present & continuing

Cooramoor / Sunset Sailings

2006-03-07T03:05:00.000-06:00

What began as a simple morning....
waving nonchalantly goodbye
on the morning tide
Shoreline slipping away in the distance
as it does every morning
New horizons beckoning before
New people, new experiences
New Life!
All reaching out with tempting fingers
A heady come hither
Joyful glee balanced by sure comfort
Knowing where Home lies behind
That on the evening tides
The inevitable tug & pull of nature's rhythms
Will take me back once more
To the arms I left that morning
To the smile, the laugh
The sure comfort of another Someday

I felt a strange tide tickle my hull
Not watching closely enough
It pulled me silently away, lethal tide
I called for help at once, and smiling,
Home simply waved... "Go forth and conquer!"
Crash of tide on rocky shore drowned out
My cries for help, instructions flew unnoticed in the wind
Did they think I simply waved back another time
I do not know, they did not answer
When the evening tides turned to send me Home
Home was not there
I do not find familiar shores
Nor warm welcome at their feet
I feel Home calling me still
Beacon in a psychic distance
I see it, flashing in my dark mind's eye
Lighthouse flash that burns
I cannot shut it off
But on this strange shore, I cannot reach it

Oh, that Home could man a ship to
Come and gather me in!
My tiny voice cries helplessly over wind & waves
I send goodbyes in a bottle
With all my hopes tucked inside
With all I have of where the tides are taking me
Hoping each dawn to see rescue on the horizon
Or that the tides will simply turn again
the bow of this cooramoor
will slide once again safely Home
New adventures gathered in
history not repeated.
Thousands of sailors lost on this endless ocean
I did not think it to be me
We have too many things left undiscovered, Home & I
Too much unfinished
Yet hours slip into days, days into weeks
and Time itself becomes a bitter draught

And so I drift.. lost and alone
I may be only feet from shore
and cannot see it
safe landing on a simple shore right there
yet perception is everything
an inch may be a thousand thousand miles
if you know not how to span the gap
and I am blinded
I ache for familiar comfort
for Home to wrap itself around me, share its peace
Oh, Home, awake and call me in!

Psychic Promises

2006-03-07T03:03:00.000-06:00

Would you like to know
What the psychic told me?
What secrets of the present, of the future she revealed?

She said many things about many things
But you don't need those, do you?
You simply wonder... what of you?
Indeed. Well then, you asked.

She swore you would not hurt me
Either of us - me or my daughter
She said my daughter in her young innocence
Has searched for someone to love me
That she is a good judge, and has found that someone in you
That she adores you beyond measure for good reason
That her trust is well placed and will not be forsaken
She called you by name
And described you to me that there was no doubt she was mistaken
She swore you care for us... and for Us
That we would face the future together
She said you drag your past behind you
on chains and yet
That you have eschewed it once
and that you would not succumb to it again
That you have vowed not to let your past rule your future
and that you would find the strength within you to keep that vow
That you work hard to keep body, mind, and soul
Strong and clean
And that we together would benefit from that work
She told me to trust you, to trust In you
To lay aside fear
To lay myself open to you, that you would be there for me
When I asked you for help
She said that the Universe put us together for a reason
That it does not make mistakes
That we are not a mistake
That I am done with searching, looking, hunting, waiting
That we are in a time of quiet
But that soon... very very soon...
(MY kind of soon, not Yours!)
I will begin of the rest of my life
With us together facing forward
That you will be both my inspiration and my reward
That we are good for one another
and that we belong together
She said all of these things without prompting or assistance from me
Without me even saying you existed... or didn't

I wasn't looking for all that when I went in
Guidance, perhaps - gems of ideas
Upon which to muse, to help me decide whether to go or stay
Speak or remain silent, smile or cry
Or simply stand in place for a time, watching you
wash over & through me til you moved on
Not all that. I didn't expect all that.

She opened her eyes, and asked me over thrice, surprized
Why was I crying?
This is not bad news - there is nothing here but good
Why was I crying?
She sees nothing but a happy future for us, and that together
Why was I crying?
This man cares deeply for you, will take care of you

I cry on. Helplessly
Til the sobs wracked my body
All silent, not a sound came from my throat
Tears like acid down my face
I can toy with Horroscopes
and wish for Love
But I bank on reality,
You aren't giving me enough reality
for me to believe her
Only enough to make it hurt.

Oh, To be Wrong

2006-03-07T03:00:00.000-06:00

You're going to let me go... again.
Aren't you?
You bastard!
History repeats itself
You swore you should not would not could not
Let it happen again
And yet
I cry for help, you close your ears
I ask plainly for comfort, for reassurance, for help
in ironing out these wrinkles between us
I ask for your touch, your words
and you speak lies of caring
Were you truly the friend you said you were
you would not run
and worse than run
Regardless of all the other things that fall between us
I asked only that we work them together
That we turn them over until we find common ground
Coward. Shameless in your soft-boned mewling
I thought you said you did not want to be selfish?
You asked me to be plain, to ask for what I want and need
and when I do
when I take bigger chances than I take for anyone
A great leap of faith and trust and self to ask
You give me exactly the opposite
You move away from me inside
Place time & space between us to match that distance
Then surpass it
Words of "what is important" from you are drowned
by actions of neglect
And you cover them all with light nothings
Like a cat scrapes nothing over something
When they've graced the bare floor
With their excrement

Time Enough

2006-03-05T01:45:00.000-06:00

I think it's inevitable that we all end up with at least something of our parents in us. For some of us perhaps that's better than others. Others of us - present company included - just plain got damn lucky.

My mom worries. This impresses upon me repeatedly as I get older... as I mature... primarily because as I was growing, I never saw it. Only a few times - important times - do I remember her evincing in my presence anything other than a love for life & everything around her. Anything other than treating minor practical inconveniences as just that. Anything other than enjoyment of all the things in the world that make it better for her. Of all the pressures & worries I now begin to understand what a parent faces, I look back & can see that she kept them locked inside, perhaps sharing them with close friends, but free from me. So those times it did leak out impressed me as being important events, important subjects... something to pay attention to.

Now that she's older.. and I'm older, it's easier for me to see those fears she locks inside. Perhaps she's not as good at hiding them. Perhaps she no longer feels the need to hide them. Perhaps she has matured to a place where it's becoming ok to share them with someone else when it was more important to be strong before. Perhaps I'm more observant. Perhaps I'm learning what those fears feel like myself and so finally understand what it is I'm seeing.

We share some very basic fears, my mother and I: growing old with no one there to love us in the end... (or in the middle, for that matter)... having people we love live their lives with no one there to love them.... no longer being able to fend for oneself & having to depend on people who do not care for you. I can't think of anything more basic & pervasive than those.

Mom had surgery yesterday. It was outpatient surgery, not a large statistical risk... but while we may write off such things as commonplace, still for the person who has to face it, such a thing can be daunting. Add to that the knowledge whispering in the back of the mind of a generation which began in days when "outpatient" surgery was limited to far less invasive surgeries than we tolerate today, and still not always successful. She told me a bit ago, in an offhand fashion, that this was coming. She was breezy & matter of fact, kept it short. I understand my job: I am the daughter who Can Handle It. I am the Gatherer of Facts. The Maker of Decisions. The Cool Head. I am the daughter who can grasp the intricacies between risk, reality, imagination, and fears both practical and solely emotional, offer comfort, encouragement, suport & practical advice where it's wanted & butt out where it's not. I am the one who Does Not Freak Out. I understand my job. So I coolly & in my unworried voice simply gathered information, offered my self if I could be of service anywhere, said I love you & then proceeded to come home & worry all on my own. Quietly to myself, without bothering the people I love. Just like my mother.

I got scolded last night for not having shared with someone(s) close to me that this was looming in my week. I had to explain two bits: First, if I'm having communicating / emotional troubles with someone I love, I tend to shut down all over in that respect. Ball up inside, lick wounds, wait for resolution. I hadn't intended to shut them out, I just have some issues elsewhere with someone else I care about right now that haven't resolved themselves yet & so the talking/sharing with others thing is sort of on hold. 's not personal... it's self-preservation. Dog licking wounds. Second, this Mom thing ties in all over the place: my Mom is part of the foundation of who I am. I feel her fears, they resonate through me & ping off of my own deeply rooted fears of loss & abandonment relating to death & dying, then amplifying & tying into those same fears of loss & abandonment in other areas. I can't imagine that all that bouncing around inside me has helped either situation much this week, but when I tried to step out of my internal cage & actually ask for help & reassurance from the source that could actually help I've gotten only distance.

Cryptic (apparently)... and off topic a bit. Sorry. Anyway, yesterday morning as I logged in to my computer to begin my day, I had a short email waiting for me from my mom. Breezy & quick, offhandedly mentioning that 'today was the day', and 'just wanted to tell you I love you.'

THAT is my mom. All those emotions bouncing around inside her, fears I know are there of never coming back. Thousands of thoughts about things she never did, might never do, might never do again, things she's never said & might not get a chance to say. Fear that tomorrow might not come. Arguing with herself all the while about being silly & don't worry anyone else. She distills it all down to the bare essence, the most important bit... one more friendly happy good morning, one more "I just wanted to tell you I love you." I hear it all in that little sentence - all the fear, all the planning, all the knowing, all the love, all the suck it up & face life strong. One last.. or one more: either way, I can't think of a better thought to start (and end!) the day with someone you care about. Just in case. I can't think of a better example of how to live. Or a better mom to learn it from.

So all you out there that I love... you know I love you. None of you are stupid! But just in case I haven't said it loudly enough, or often enough, or in words or actions that you understand... just in case we're mad at each other, or confused, or frightened, or disgusted... just in case I've been too busy to pay attention when I should have, or in case you've been too preoccupied with the rest of your world to hear me: Hello. Whether tomorrow comes or doesn't, I just wanted to tell you I love you. There really isn't anything more important than that. Everything else is just gravy.

Tuesday 02/21/06

2006-02-21T10:17:00.000-06:00

A friend of mine called last night, & hearing something dangerous in my voice, tried to spy out what it was & why it was there. When I repeatedly changed the subject, they said, "You don't like to talk about yourself much, do you, kiddo?" Huh. Interesting! I LOVE to talk about myself! Me me me me me... hey, it's why lots of us have blogs, right? But sometimes it's just not the best idea.

Healing.. helping.. doing nice things for people you care about. We often call those things "selfless", and in a sense they are. We do them because we want the people we care about to have the most pleasant life possible, & if we can do anything to effect that, we do. At the same time, we do get a return from doing those things. Sometimes it's a material return, sometimes it's knowing their lives are a little better... but there is a return. There has to be! Emotions don't run counter to the laws of physics -- what goes out must come back in or eventually it will be gone. There has to be a gas tank somewhere inside you that holds everything you are & everything you have to give. No matter how efficiently you run, or how much surplus you do or don't maintain, when you give out to other people, someone or something has to fill you back up at some point so you can continue to give it back out. Some people take... some people give.. the best relationships have over time a healthy balance of both, even when the balance tips one way or another now & then.

Of course, there are different sorts of fuel that are compatible with different areas of your life. I'm incredibly blessed that I have more than one friend who understands this concept - cognitively! - and who work to keep that tank (mine & theirs) full with the type of fuel(s) they can create. Some kinds of fuel are signature marked - can only be created by a particular person or persons, or situation, or combination of situations. Some fuels are cross-compatible, and some aren't. I guess that's a trigger for me: When the tank gets low, there aren't any reserves, & the source for what I need makes itself scarce, that's a bad combination: trouble hits.

As I get older, and particularly since B was born, I find that the things I feel on the spectrum of emotions are often so much more intense than they used to be. Especially negative emotions - pain, sorrow, anger, abandonment... sometimes I see them coming & sometimes I'm surprised when something triggers them. I wish it were the other ones! Euphoria would be so much more pleasant to feel in that sort of intensity. When they wash upon me like the tide crashing on a rocky shore, it's all I can do to contain them from spilling over onto the other people around me & damaging not just me but them as well. Oh, but I have a sharp tongue that is very very good at saying things that slice & damage. Things that may be true... but that don't represent the whole truth, or often even most of the truth, just the most cutting parts of it. These emotions can be so wild & powerful that the only thing I know to do is to initate an immediate emergency lock down of self to protect those around me. At least then the damage they cause is limited to the inside of me.

It's not usually very long before such wild passion wears itself out crashing about inside me. Then I can begin to assess the damage, & hope I managed to shut down before much slipped out. Then I can think about the causes & reason what I might do to avoid that particular trigger in the future. I can only change myself, so what was it in me that allowed (or created) that sort of response? Occasionally I find that there just isn't anything left in myself I can tweak or alter or adjust any more, that there's instead an outside influence of some kind that has to be removed. Or that I am the influence that must be removed from the situation. But the vast majority of the time I can move something around in myself to make the ebb & flow of emotion & thought more functionally pleasing to all in my life.

If it's a person who is the cause of the trigger, they could shut it down far more quickly by diving in & holding on tight... could heal the cause rather than simply letting me limit the damage as best I can on my own... but most people simply don't care that much. I've only been surprized three times in my life by someone actually doing that. All of them created and reinforced a lifetime sort of bond in their respective moments. My Mom shouldn't have surprized me, because that's what Mom's do. But I guess some lessons we have to learn in life are obvious ones, and sometimes the people we love & count on the most are the ones we most need reassurance from. Trixy, isn't it? For Tammy, I think, her choice to dive in & save me - us - was intentional. Twenty five years later she's still here.. I'd say that's a pretty good argument for intention. For him.. well.. the jury wavers. I'm often afraid that what I see/saw may be only accidental byproducts of who he is & not intent. I carry within me humanity's frailings: I fear and I doubt.

Another friend of mine doesn't like my analogies - First, she worries that containing that sort of raging passion damages something she cares about - me. That the damage is greater when kept in a small space, and that it would be better to let those passions out than to keep them in. But then, she doesn't feel them. (These - I'm sure she has her own!) And even if she did, she is the sort of person who would simply absorb whatever damage was dealt for love of her friend & then find a way to heal herself. She is truly a healer - she makes it her life to reach out, feel for what's hurting & do everything she can to fix it in the people she loves, even at the cost of herself. May all the gods bless her and hers for all of eternity! Second, she worries that I don't hold other people responsible enough for how they make me feel. I understand, and when reason comes I have to take into consideration whether or not there is enough return in my life to keep them around... but I can't change them. They can, if they care enough, but I can't. I only have jurisdiction over myself.

So until something better comes along, if I want to protect the people I care about, I just have to shut down til the passion subsides, then think... analyze... talk... change... whatever it takes to make things work again. With luck & love, I won't have to do it alone.

Sunday 02/19/06

2006-02-19T20:27:00.000-06:00

THIS is how he makes me feel!

In bed or out of it, walking, running, standing still, in the throes of passion or in the sweet joys of friendship. Whether things are good or incredible or off kilter. Present or absent, dreaming or awake, whether we're talking or whether there's silence sweet or oppressive between us... he stands between me and a very rocky shore. He is both comfort and pleasure. Passion and pain. He is something both primal and uncertain: he is both changeable and certain as the tides.

I don't know where we're going, and it's awfully hard to trust it sometimes, but I have to believe the Universe doesn't make mistakes. A reason, a season, or a lifetime: we've come together by design, and its up to us together to make that design as beautiful as we can.

Planting

2006-02-14T21:19:00.000-06:00

You drop seeds of uncertainty
and water them with silence
In the fertile ground of imagination
How can you expect them not to grow?
Reap what you sow.

~~02/2006

Considering Possibilities

2006-02-13T00:07:00.000-06:00

I think the secrets to loving more than one person... successfully... involve not only communication - and a lot of it! But in taking care of the ones you already love before you add another. Very... very... very good & careful care. Nurture those people first. Be intimately aware of their needs & feelings, feed them more than they need to merely sustain them. Pursue them. Keep them strong & healthy, sure in your affection, your regard, and your desire. Then they can support & encourage you in loving others instead of holding you back.

I Think There's One

2006-02-11T00:55:00.000-06:00

I think I've got this one left in me
Just one more tiny bit of hope
One more last reserve of love
Dredging up the strength to be
I offer you what's left of me

One corner of my heart unblemished
Unsoiled unbroken, not repaired
Untrammelled by love's sharpest sorrows
One tiny bit... I'll guide you there.

One more song to sing in unison
Our two lives in harmony
Our music isn't all that's in you
But love from you could set mine free

I may look strong
I'm cracked and shattered
I may look weak
& yet I'm not
A tiny seed untouched within me
Waken it with love

I think I've got just one left in me
There's such a tiny pool of hope
There's so much that has gone before you
I offer you more than you know

It's yours, I cannot take it back
This love which now within me burns
If you should shun it, let me go
A nexus in my life will turn

I've only got this one left in me
One more deep breath, one shot at trust
One more try for this my life
You're the last: we fail, I'm done.

~~02/10/06

Thursday 02/09/06

2006-02-10T00:22:00.000-06:00

There is something serenely and supremely satisfying about saying "I love you" and "Goodnight" in the same sentence. Particularly when its said to someone you care deeply about. Even if it's said 40 some-odd miles (or farther!) away from one another.

"I love you" and "Good Morning", of course, are satisfying in a completely different fashion ;-)

Thank you, my friend. I find I can no longer imagine what life would be like without you, other than to know it would not be nearly as pleasant. I no longer remember what life was like before you, other than to remember you were not there. I need you! Please don't ever go so far away you forget how to come back.

Goodnight... I love you, too.
--Me

Old Musings 02/03/06

2006-02-03T08:42:00.000-06:00

Sometimes pen & paper are far more ready to hand than the computer... doing some cleaning today, I found this scribble I must have done in between other things somewhen:

Thought.. Quandry: When no one's reading {the stuff you write}, there are no secrets. There is nothing you would not share in your "private" diary. The web makes things less private, which is both the point and the problem.

For you see, I don't really care if people I do not know & have never met read my innermost thoughts. And most of the time, nor do I mind that those I care most about see my private self. And yet... with those you love, sometimes the depth & breadth of what you choose to reveal .. & the timing of those things... makes a difference in your relationship. My hopes are a GOOD difference, but you never know. I would hope that my people keep in mind that regardless that my thoughts are posted for all to see, these ARE still "private" thoughts. Personal. Musings. Meanderings that I'm willing to discuss, but ... oh, blast it!

I must have gotten interrupted by something. But the musings are still valid, and have continued... I find that I do write some less now that people I really know & care about have access to this blog. I haven't felt much like writing lately -- my muse is far more active when I'm unhappy, and lately life has been fairly nice. But beyond that, I do find there is a gentle edit that happens in my head, wondering whether or not it's really wise to always let my unfettered thoughts flow to pen out here where all & sundry can pick them up. I'm likely to fall on the side of "yes, do it!", but there are some doubts. Just thoughts...

Love,
Amy

01 2006 The Presbyterian Church

2006-01-15T10:16:00.000-06:00

We went to look at this church. It must have stood there a hundred years, exterior of red brick, high peaked ceilings reaching from inside for the sky, like a woman raising her arms, throwing her head back and opening her heart as an offering to her God. The ceilings were painted with a fresco of pale blue & gold, and log harsh cracks ran through the paint. Through the plaster. Through the very soul of the place, this beautiful grand building silently weeping for repair. 'Neat and tidy' held its place desperately against the tide of time, holding back 'shabby' by sheer will alone. The acoustics in the chapel were amazing. You could almost feel in the air the ghosts of every beautiful note that had ever been uttered in this place. A single note, even slightly off key, wafted upwards and expanded and seemed to become clear and beautiful as it joined with the spirits of all the notes that had ever gone before it. It made me feel reverent in the quiet places of my soul, made me long to fall to my knees and send up prayer. Made me long to open my throat and offer up a sweet aria to all the forces of the ancient earth.
We poked our noses into room after room, and as my soul softened and expanded against the quiet workings of this place, the less I saw 'oooh, new exercise equipment!' and 'see what we're doing for our parish?' the more I felt a glowing peace wrapping itself around my inner sight. And the softer my soul became, the more I felt him, steps away, another warm and glowing presence wrapping itself around my inner soul. The two great and powerful presences mingled and flowed as one, bringing smile to my face and awe to my heart. I could feel his very heart beat, and I wanted to close my eyes and swim in these sensations. I wanted to sing and feel his heart change to the rhythm. I wanted to hold his soul against mine and soar, fly with him through this feeling of awe and wonder.
It's always tiny, pedantic things that bring one back to reality. We poked our noses into the downstairs. There was a kitchen, a meeting area like that in hundreds of old churches where they serve mother-daughter banquets and Sunday pancake breakfasts and potluck dinners. Against one wall was a large oil painting - real oils, whose sepia lends a certain lifelike quality even when the skill of the painter isn't all that large. He was looking at it, a little lost in thought, and as I stepped past him on my way to investigate another nook or cranny, he turned & stopped me with his comment. "I love this painting. I have always loved this painting." I stopped too, and really looked at it for a moment… I only needed a moment. Then I murmured something shallow in agreement & left, although I looked again before we left the building, for longer and while he was not a mere breath or two away from me.
A landscape. Stream wrapping itself happy and mostly serene around and beyond small rocks, a few old worn craggy boulders that had themselves sat there hundreds of years, wearing out a grain of sand at a time as the elements work on them and the centuries pass. A few trees lean their branches gracefully over the water's edge, some grass here & there, hinting of broad green fields stretching for miles, open sky, a vista rising in the distance. Tiny, pedantic things like being able to see clearly my daughter running & climbing over those very rocks on the far shore. A child investigating all the wondrous things that can be found along a stream's edge. There was a great rock on the other side of the stream where I could see me warming myself in the sunlight and reading a book, leaning against the bark of an old tree. And of course I could see him… walking in the long grass, soaking his soul in the miles of open air - no one else to break our beautiful solitude for miles and miles… any city just a far off forgotten dream. I could see him sometimes next to me, his head in my lap… sometimes cradling mine in his, sometimes simply next to one another… silent or talking about things great or small. I could see him rising long & leonine and crossing the stream to tickle his toes in the grass, or to share what new wonder my daughter had found now. I could sometimes see a dog - maybe a beautiful golden retriever, coat catching the sunlight as the day begins to wane, fur bouncing as he leaps & gallops his way back and forth between my girl and him. I could hear the barking of the dog, interspersed sometimes by child's laughter and sometimes by his delighted chuckle wafting deep across the water. I could hear the wind talking with the tree above me, the stream in its endless monologue, and the birds as they made their music unafraid in this untouched place.
Mingled with these oh-so-real visions, I felt the soul of the chapel above us reach down and join the ghosts of voices to the songs of that universe, join the very real, warm beating of his heart into the score. Join mine.
And then in that same few seconds, I felt the shattering of illusion: a Y in awareness, not making the other go away, but insisting on existing in tandem as another part of my brain reminded me of all the realities of our world. Reminded me of how often and far he remains separate from me even as other times he is so close. Reminded me of each time he has thrown warnings in my path that this thing we share will most likely see an end, and how every moment we share is shadowed and infinitesimally damaged for me by wondering if in a few days or a few weeks I will look back and find that moment was the one that was the last. Reminded me of letters he has written in which he sends excitedly to an old pal of the news and the stunning women in his life, and in which I was not even an honorable mention. Reminded me of other women who also write about sleeping in his arms and shedding tears to soak into his warm mane. A Y in awareness showing me in the same explicit detail the long deep cracks, much like those in the chapel above, that will line and damage the fresco of my soul if he leaves.
Sorrow often walks hand in hand with gladness. I simply could not in that moment bear the burden of how deeply they both run into and through me where he is concerned. So I murmured something shallow in agreement with his perusal of the painting and I moved on to look at something more of this world, less fraught with dreams. Dreaming is a wonderful thing, and I would not stop doing it if I could… but as I have to often remind my daughter, wishing something does not make it so.

Truth of Nature

2006-01-11T14:12:00.000-06:00

Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.

- Captain Corelli's Mandolin

2006 Goals / Resolutions / Things to Strive For

2006-01-04T22:53:00.000-06:00

B: In word, deed, and thought, work on being softer & more gentle with my daughter.
Self: Work to receive invitations into people's space, not take them; invite them into mine, not demand it. I want and need to know my presents and my presence are actually desired, not merely tolerated. (But do it without losing the hutzpah that is me -- Dial it down, not gone!)
Self: Try to shift the focus of some of my need to give to others outwards towards people I do not know and balanced more evenly among all those I love instead of innundating those I care the most about & need the most from.
Work: Plan my work rather than letting work plan my life... and do it so that my goals are successfully met before they are due.
Entertaining: Cook a real meal at home 1x per month, invite someone(s) to share.
Yoga: 1 hour w/ a teacher at minimum once per month. 20 min sessions at least 3x per week.
Music: 20 min at least 3x per week at home. Investigate options re: vocal/instrumental groups/sessions/lessons etc.
Family: Dedicated one-on-one time with B, 20 min at least 4x per week. Activity/outing with extended family at least 1x per month (kid focus).
Theatre: Attend 4+ performances. Take B to at least one.
Love: Live it.

Resolutions

2006-01-03T10:20:00.000-06:00

My resolution for this year
Is to love you.
I laugh~~
I say that
As though I have a choice!
I do not
I only have choices as to how.
When and where
And how it will show itself.

But for today
And tomorrow
And the day after
One way or another
I will .
Until that indefinable
Something clicks in you
And you love me in kind and in return
Or until
Those miniscule wounds that
Loving you without return consistently brings
Finally damage how
I feel for you beyond repair
Or until
I simply can no longer find
Any more ways
To deal with half a love.
Until I can no longer heal myself.
Then I will have to find another
way to live this life
One way or another.

~~01/03/06

When You Hurt

2006-01-03T10:17:00.000-06:00

You share with me your pain
Or some of it
And although the reasons for your pain
Cut me deeply
Still when I am with you
My own I put away
And the only impulse I feel
While you are beside me
Is to soothe and comfort
You

I ache that you ache
I want to ease it away
I wish to take your sorrow
Into myself
Break it into tiny pieces
And scatter it to the winds
Absorb it into myself
Leaving you only sure
Relief

My own sorrows
I will feel on my own time
I will curl into a ball
And let the hot tears
Fall
Sometimes silent
Sometimes loud
Mostly alone

If tears fall in the forest of my lifetime
And you are not there to see them
Did they ever exist?

~~01/02/2006

Counter Confusion

2005-12-29T09:41:00.000-06:00

I counter
Thoughts of being without
You
Thoughts of walking
Running, tiptoeing
Away from you

With considerations of
Alternate possibilities

I think often:
But what if this meant something different
This word… this conversation
That look… that lack
This sharing of self
What if this is something different
Something I’ve never encountered
But only dreamed of

What if this is a sharing
A stepping deeper
Or is it a warning?
A making of space between us?
What if this is a tentative
Holding out of trust
An opening of heart
Or is it only you
Showing me intimate parts of you
So that I know what I
Do not have
So that I can see what we are not

What if the things he does not do
The things he does not say
The things he does
Are the very different thing
I have always been looking for

What if I interpret him
In the ways I’ve always wanted to live
And think
And love
Instead of the ways the world has taught me
I must

And yet
Fear whispers insidious
That you are
Another one
Only one of Them

Under a New Mexico Sunrise

2005-12-29T08:21:00.000-06:00

I do not wish to be
An also-ran
Or a once-was
Or an afterthought
Of any kind, to anyone
Most particularly you

And yet, as distance allows me to take a step backwards
And breathe deeply, just a little,

I think perhaps if I am
Not already those things
Then I am certainly on the path
To being exactly that

I don’t know how to be
Anything other than I am
How to capture the sparkle in your eye
How to turn the interest in your smile
Or the frission in the pit of your stomach
Into something that always turns my way

I don’t know any other way
To be something worth claiming
Worth talking about to all & sundry
Worth fighting for, worth pursuing,
Worth loving
Than to simply be who I am

Perhaps that is not enough
For you… or for anyone

I am sorely tempted to quietly
Oh, so quietly
Tiptoe away in time

I think you
I have been oh so afraid you
I ache to believe you
Would quietly
Oh, so quietly

Simply let me go.

Behold the Conquering Hero Comes

2005-12-23T09:27:00.000-06:00

Someone not long ago asked me what sexual position I like best. For years, the answer that came to my mind when asked such a thing was "Missionary", which I always thought too mundane & boring to be anything I wanted to have come out of my mouth. Particularly in the situations where it was generally asked! This time, as thoughts flew several directions at once in my head (I was, after all, being rather pleasantly distracted at the time), I realized that answer wasn't necessarily valid any more. It wasn't necessarily wrong, either, which - me being me - indicated a need for some dissection of thought & process. To be done later, of course! Why had that changed, and why did I not know the answer now? My probably unsatisfying "I'm not sure" to my partner was accepted... but this entry constitutes a more thorough answer.

((The remainder of this post has been removed for further thought/editing & possibly personal conversation. If you missed it the first time, you weren't paying close enough attention.))

T 12/20/2005 - The Power of Pineapple

2005-12-20T10:14:00.000-06:00

Did you know that pineapple is acidic enough that given enough time, it will eat through a steel can? Truth!

I apparently don't make it to the back of my canned goods cabinet often enough. This morning I was frantically digging for "snacks" to send to school with the girls, & there was a mysterious brown gooey mess under & around one entire section. I just now went to explore & clean it up... an old can of pineapple (exp 07/2001) was the culprit. The pineapple had eaten clean through the steel can (yes, steel, not aluminum) on the bottom & the ooolllld icky juice oozed out. Yuck.

Hippos 2

2005-12-19T23:16:00.000-06:00

Oh, bloody (*%&! I forgot the hippo! It's what got me to come out here to make an entry in the first place tonight, & there I went rambling on & forgot the hippo. Check this out... I think it's GREAT

And I found the hippo on this guy's page. Just in case you're in the mood for a good little read or two. or three.

Hippos

2005-12-19T22:38:00.000-06:00

Wow.. Christmas. This week I was stunned to be greeted at an elevator with a "Merry Christmas!" Many things struck me about that split second...

There is something categorically wrong about being "stunned" with a Christmas greeting. Must analyze.
There was no snow on the ground & the air outside was juuuust balmy enough I'd left my coat in the car. It felt more like late October.. or perhaps late February... than just before Christmas.
Noone around was wearing garishly snowflaked sweatshirts or santa hats, or holiday gear of any kind.
The walls & floors of the building were institutional plain, no decorations in sight.
Everyone I saw looked as rushed as I felt. The ONLY person who looked at all relaxed was the one who said Merry Christmas. Coincidence?
The person who said it to me looked at me almost as though it were a dare, & they expected to be scowled at.. as though they'd done that many times in the last couple of days & while still defiant, had learned to stay wary of the public beasts.
The person who said it to me deserved a return of Christmas cheer.

On quick review, I realized my insides felt much like the walls & floors of the building. I put out my psychic mirror, & knew there was no sparkle in my eyes (which is a shame, because they're so pretty when they sparkle!) They were for the moment so introverted that only a dull grey monotone was looking out at the world, and I was so busy looking inward I wasn't even seeing it anyway. Poor world! What had it done to deserve such treatment? I may joke about it from time to time, but I don't ACTUALLY kick the cat when I come home frustrated... why should I take out my own personal demons on unsuspecting strangers?

Sometimes I get so tunnel-visioned into an emotion or three that I lose sight of all the wonderful things around me. And holy cow, there are some wonderful things around me. People who are so jam-packed full of fantastical qualities I can't even put them all into words. Supreme beings of all shapes & sizes both inside & out. I have been increasingly tunnel-visioned this season, and to my friends I apologize for wallowing all over their holiday(s). I will try to shake out of it a bit in the season that's left and return to them all the good things they give me just by being in my life. (Although I still reserve the right to crawl off like a dog to lick my wounds in some secluded wood when necessary.) God love them for sticking around!

Tonight I took three hoydens with me to do some Christmas shopping and completely failed to annhilate them in the process. I did, however, interspersed amongst the running directional commentary (Get OVER here! Stop touching things, please? Keep your hands to yourSELVES! Don't push each other into people.. have you lost your minds? Do NOT lay down on the escalator! Walk, please. Walk, please! WALK!!! STOP TOUCHING THINGS!!) manage to remember to toss out a few "Merry Christmas"s of my own. Experimentally-like. I know my sparkle was only at half mast, but they didn't necessarily know that. You know what? Most of them looked as stunned as I felt at the elevator. That's just not right. My half-sparkle shoulda been lost in the blinding love of the season, not standing out as an anomaly. So now I'm going to HAVE to keep it up. Ripples in a pond & all that.

Blogger won't let me cut & paste, so although I know this reads a bit choppy, I'm hitting "go" & going to go work on wrapping up a little Christmas cheer. Maybe I'll stand on a chair for awhile & look around the house before bed. Maybe I'll lay down backwards over the sofa & look around the living room. Or backwards off my bed & look around there. Sometimes a change of physical perspective will - oddly enough - alter an internal one as well. I've settled myself into all sorts of nonconventional ways of thinking when hanging upside down off the edge of my bed... maybe a little "(upside)down" time will settle me into some new perspective again now!

It does do odd things when combined with mistletoe, though. I'm just sayin'.

Public Face

2005-12-17T23:01:00.000-06:00

The cry leaves not my mouth.
Instead, I send it searing downwards
through neck..shoulders...arms
frozen in harsh winters rictus
where it pools .
Where your eyes cannot see,
making one single fist of passion
nails score slices from my palms.

I cannot unlock them
to hold you.
Were I to return your embrace,
that cry so tightly held
in frozen stance
might loose itself upon the world
and I might never let you go.

12/17/05

12/15/2005 - Friday

2005-12-16T17:35:00.000-06:00

Wow... what a week! Christmas draws nigh & life just seems to keep escalating until your head spins, doesn't it? Got your Christmas shopping done yet?

Christmas has all my life been my very favorite holiday, so finding myself less than spirited by now is a bit unusual. Between frantic attempts to handle end-of-year business, Christmas parties that ought to be fun, and personal quandries of both the familial and the amorous kind, I feel more than a bit verklempt. Even long hot baths & a glass of wine aren't cutting the mustard at the moment! Yoga might... if I could just get my heart onto the mat with me. Bashing Charr (Guild Wars) seems to be an ever so slightly successful panacea this evening - if it only worked without putting a crick in my back! Bitch bitch bitch moan moan moan... I know: Quit complaining & FIX it! Well... some things don't fix. Others don't fix right away, and still others simply can't be fixed all by your lonesome. Everything that's fixable, I've fiddled with already. Everything else I have to sit back & let someone else (or SomeOne Else) handle. Fingers & toes are already crossed as many times as physics allow, & prayers are being carried Up by fragrant smoke 24/7. Thanks for the advice, though!

Have I mentioned that my B will be spending the holiday with her father this year? NO?! Well... it's the 1st in 5, and while I'm determined to be ecstatic for her (she'll have a great time!), there's a tiny massive wail of despair for me welling up deep deep inside me, scheduled to burst forth 12/24/05 at midnight proper. No Christmas decorations up in my house this year, and if a great deal on a flight out of the country dropped into my lap by the 23rd... maybe even the 24th, I'd grab my these-days-perpetually-packed-overnight-bag, toss in a handful of cash & a bottle of suntan lotion & I would be SO on that flight before you could say 23-skidoo!

Jim... I would kill to have Santa drop 1/2 a dozen more of your kick-ass mixes in my stocking this Christmas. (along with the mix detail, 'cause I'd never in a mil guess who/what they were) If homicide isn't your bag, what's the going price for happiness these days?

Touch

2005-11-26T14:21:00.000-06:00

They seem so sure, my hands
As they roam this beautiful body of yours
Which houses such an infinite soul

They seek to touch
To know the fullness of you
To integrate self to self
To heal, to soothe
Connect one piece of self to the next

They seek, as a mother touches
Each tiny toe on her new child’s foot
To touch each part of you
Ensure you’re whole
That the world has not torn you asunder
Since last we met.

I am awash with wonder at your very existence.
11/26/05

Awakenings

2005-11-26T14:20:00.000-06:00

We awaken to one another
Slowly, oh so slowly
Slight petals of self
Unfurl one by one

We come to trust
In miniscule increments
The affections we bask in
Will not blink out and disappear
With but a moment’s notice

Small furled parts of me
Creep timidly to the edge of shadow
Peer with longing eyes
At the soft warmth of your hands
As you stroke
My hair, my lips, my thighs

Ever closer they come
Respond to your coaxing
When you murmur sweet things
In a voice low & warm with flame and promise
While the soft warmth of your hands
Stroke more intimate parts of me
Until I must surrender one more bit of self
Then lie curled and warm,
Protected in your embrace until dawn.
11/26/05

You Don't Want to Hurt Me?

2005-10-27T16:00:00.000-06:00

If you Love me
long enough
hard enough
deeply enough
Then there is no hurt you can cause me
however inadvertently
that we cannot heal
together or alone.

If, however,
you cannot find it within you
to Love me
that much
then there can be no action
no intent
no healing you can provide
that could seal the wound
that lack would leave.

So you see,
the only way through this
(and still have a chance
of succeeding in your desire
to not hurt me)
is forward.

--09/27/05

10/04/05 Tuesday

2005-10-05T02:29:00.000-06:00

Have you ever had something or someone that makes you feel SO good that sometimes you find yourself fighting an urge to run away as far and as fast as you can? 'Cause if you run away, you'll never have to face watching them walk away of their own volition. I know.. faulty logic. But then.. who ever said the heart was logical?

2005-09-12T07:16:00.000-06:00

August 2005! My spoil-a-blogger sent me these :-) The DVD was on my Amazon wishlist (funny story there..) & the little booklet is a picture album for school-size pics of B ... isn't that cute? There was a cute little froggy magnet, too, but B has already snagged that & run. Thank you, Ravyn!

09/12/05 - Monday (Lazy Blogger)

2005-09-12T07:00:00.000-06:00

Yeah.... lazy blogger I am I am. Well, to be fair, I WAS sans-PC for a good week while I argued vehemently with an upgrade to my virus software. As far as I know, I won... but it could also be like an argument with my daughter: I just THINK I've won, & it'll come back & bite me in the glutes later. A lot has gone on the last week or two, & I've done some "paper&penning" that may or may not make it out here.. maybe retroactively? dunno. ANYWAY! I really really need to take a digital pic of the sweet stuff my secret blogger sent me... she's so sweet! Uh.. whoever she is... ;-) I saw Gwen sent out a finger-shaking yesterday to slackers who STILL haven't sent out August, and while I'm not one of THOSE, I felt the backlash, 'cause I haven't done my share of bragging on my secret pal yet! So I'm going to pad my barefoot ass out to my car (with which I've also been arguing vehemently btw), get my digital camera & hopefully post that pic in a few minutes. Here I go!

2005-09-08T12:22:00.000-06:00

August 2005

I can't figure out how to get this bigger without losing quality! Techie people, techie people... where art thou?

09/03/05 Saturday am

2005-09-03T08:00:00.000-06:00

I would say, "I slept in & it felt soooooo goood!".... but somehow it just seems categorically wrong to say that about 7 o'clock in the freakin' morning....

08/26/05 Friday

2005-08-26T18:16:00.000-06:00

You ever just sit back a bit & wait for someone to miss you? And wait... and wait... and wait... til pretty soon it sort of dawns on you that they just don't? Yeah. That sucks.

2005-08-24T20:33:00.000-06:00

Three fishies for the pond :)

If You Forget Me (Pablo Neruda)

2005-08-23T00:39:00.000-06:00

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon,
at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

-- Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)

08/21/2005 - Sunday - Nervous, Love? Surely Not!

2005-08-22T01:22:00.000-06:00

I spoke to you of nerves
Of scattered thinking
With breath held back, I did not mean to share
That particular bit of self
Before you begged me sweet and sure
To give, to let, to let you in
And yet once begun I could not return to nothings
You argued back sweet anticipation
Excitement flush, and all things good
And what I did not say
Although I said "what matters it, when all they feel the same"?
What I did not say
Was how these butterflies are not
Alone about your touch
Your smile, your look
Although these things affect me greatly
Nor what to say or when
Nor who to be nor why
Nor how you think and feel and live
Nor what sweet things might pass between us
as we walk some gentle forest path

No, these palpitations come due
As I suspect
Each moment with you to be quite possibly
The next moment of my very life
We together face a crossroads in my soul
Our souls?
I know not how it came to be
But yet it is
A mantle of responsibility
I try to hold free of your strong shoulders
(Which, by the way,
Are begging for my touch)
Although I struggle under the weight and breadth of it
Alone

The next sweet word or look or touch
A breath, a simple blade of grass
May be the one
deciding all the vistas yet to come
Set us forth on some great epic
Together or alone
You, reading, scoff. Say "Bah! silly girl
Are you not perhaps pretentious
Slow down, 'tis not that great a worry
You frighten me with your talk of tomorrows!"
Oh, love, I know
I feel it in my aged ageless soul
Portentious bliss or ruin lies before us
And my nerves of steel run molten craven coward
For though I think and fight and feel
Figure furiously in panic and in calculating calm
Still I do not know upon which path
We've set our silly feet

This knowing and unknowing fuels my fears
Anticipation, excitement comes with knowing
Bliss will come, is yours, is mine to have for taking
But nerves, those shake up from not knowing
And yet knowing that it matters… matters deeply
I will keep it from my face if not my hands
From my conversation and my laughter
Through my words alone in writing might you hear
These thoughts, these fears of mine
Unless you ask
Until you beg me sweet and sure
To give, to let, to let you in
To make of us our own
Some sweet tomorrow all anticipation
To be yours, be mine,
Be ours to have for taking
For then will nervousness have flown.

08/20/05 - Sunday - Room with a View

2005-08-21T19:03:00.000-06:00

You fancy me in your lair
And I fancy you in mine
Shall we then
Perhaps
Someday
build one great web
With room for both of us and one
With room for any comely visitors
To perch and speak and stay
And several furred felines
Gathered 'round to share the secrets
Of our lives
Close around us as the feathers of a bird
Which warm
And soft
And plump
Surround us give us peace
Insulate us from the world
And from each other
We spin with silken dew-dropped threads
Miracles between us

08/20/05 - Sunday - The Inevitability of Something Grand

2005-08-21T10:41:00.000-06:00

Sometimes love is simple...
Lightning quick, fiery, passionate
Nature slashes you with her whip
of raw physicality
And cunningly, you cower
and whimper
and yet rise to the occasion
taking boldly what is yours
accepting boldly what is given
giving and receiving love in its rawest form
reciprocation of the inevitable

Sometimes love is complicated
Intrigue, romance
Secrets sneaking silent 'round your heart
involving your life
your plans
your people
stealing away in dark corners
dancing sometimes in moonlight,
sometimes in shadow
sometimes in sun bright and punishing as the Sarengetti
intricate steps
felt delicately with a blind partner

This thing with you confuses me
Confounds me
Befuddled, bewildered, discombobulated
My Thesaurus resounds with ways to say it
That yet don't quite grasp the essence
The minutia of what I "get" so completely
and yet fail so utterly to grasp

What we have
and what we don't have
who and what we might or might not yet be
is such a montage of oddities

Fire? Oh, yes!
In ageless fleeting moments
That sustain and flare my thoughts
In drought of you
You have given me fire
today embers banked safely against tomorrow
it will take but a seconds' breath to flare them into fire again
We WILL burn together
Someday or days
Some night or nights
Lovely flames, Phoenix rising from ashes

Calm? Oh, yes!
A peace and surety of sorts
That leads me ever onward
That sooths inevitable doubt
And conquers fear

Love? Oh, yes!
So many ways, and yet more
Ever so many more
to come: I see them:
Clear possibilities beckoning
willow-the-wisps
In a hazy distance
crystal constellations
sprinkled through the galaxy of future

Happiness? Oh, yes!
Even when doubt sets fire
to my dreamings
When I draw near to you
They melt away
like tiny pats of butter under the summer sun
Just knowing you are close
even when we have no plans to be
Driving towards you
I looked in the mirror to check some piddling detail
And found a stupid smile creeping 'cross my face
for no good reason whatsoever
Bah!

Sadness? Oh, yes...
Your two-year records
Leave me frightened
That I will join the harem
As little more than background noise
In a lovely cluttered room

But
Sometimes, love simply IS
Something that defies analyzing
defies analogy
defies offense and defense
There is no defense against the inevitable
Sometimes, no matter how many ways you turn it
Or how many kinds of light you use to
look it through
figure it out
make it happen
drive it away
In the end,
there is nothing you can do but accept it
Accept it as it comes
Whether it comes as you dreamed it
or not
Whether it fits your fantasies
or your present
or even your future
Sometimes you are simply helpless
and deep inside you know,
No matter what comes
You will take it
You will make the most of it
You will cherish every second you have
Even accept sorrow if it comes
Although you sweat and pray and dream and hope
With heart in throat and impatience nipping at your heels
That it will be bliss that comes in sorrow's stead
because sometimes
No matter how you struggle... or don't
Love simply is.

08/21/2005 - Sunday - Spoil a Blogger Request

2005-08-21T07:46:00.000-06:00

My sweet secret blogger... more of a fey, actually... sent me a card & asked for some (more) ideas of the sorts of things that tickle my fancy. I'm slow to pick up mail sometimes, so I may be too late, but here you go!

((Go ahead... hum along if'n ya wanna))

Moonlight on rivers and deep silent forests
Butterflies and fireflies and flowers from a florist
Faires who glitter with dust on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Difficult puzzles made out of wood
Books that light fancies like Heinlein or Kerr
Candles that flicker twixt darkness and light
These are some things that I find out of sight

Baubles that shine from my lone index finger
Toerings and earrings with posts that don't linger
Music on CD's and movies on disc
None of these things would be much of a risk

Wehrenberg Theatres show good local movies
Dierbergs or Schnucks will bring flowers and goodies
Straight to my door, they would light up my face
I'm home on most days, they can leave in car space

Soft furry fancies that feel like the belly
Of kittens or rabbits, red or grape jelly
Symphony chocolate with almonds and Skor
Or things that come riding out straight out of lore

Like knights in shone armour with maidens in veils
Moments of romance down long winding trails
Pictures of someone I find that I love
Chocolate 'round Ice Cream and packaged by Dove

When the day sucks
When I can't post
When the 'sphere is slow
I simply go out there and hunt down some more
And that's how I logged on to Spoil-A-Blogger twwoooooo…. Point. Oh!

08/18/2005 - First Day of School

2005-08-18T11:07:00.000-06:00

Dammit.. I SWORE I wasn't gonna cry any more. Blast it all anyway. I am such a baby! I hearby officially apologize to any parents with children older than mine who I (however secretly) thought were complete wussy sops when they wailed about their kids going to school for the first time. You knew I'd get mine, didn't you? And for all y'all who may still be thinking we're wussy sops? Well... you'll get yours, too. Just wait. Your turn is a-comin'.

Go to B's picture page if'n ya wanna see my young'un: http://baileysglory.blogspot.com/

2005-08-18T09:17:00.000-06:00

There she goes.. climbing the steps to higher education. Her very first day of school.

2005-08-18T09:16:00.000-06:00

Here's my girl! 5 y/o & ready to take on a whole new world :) (God help it.)

Spoil-A-Blogger Q&A

2005-08-18T02:00:00.000-06:00

I'm plaaaaying... I'm plaaaaaying... I get to play Spoil-A-Blogger 2.0 :0 What fun! I may be slower than molassas running up a hill backwards in January about getting my info posted out here, but I'm IN. Now don't go presuming you "know" I'm not your secret someone just 'cause I'm a procrastinator at posting. I'm much better at spoiling people than I am at getting my papers turned in on time ;-) (I know... I need to put a link in there... I'm coding-challenged, need to pull out my crib notes to do that, & have GOT to get to bed or B will be tardy for her first day at school tomorrow! You're lucky I got this far.) (I'll try to get to it soon. )

Q: What is your favorite color?
A1: Blueturningtopurpleturningtoredturningtomagenta -- Things in-between & Sunsets extraordinaire
A2: Opalescence

Q: What is your favorite scent?
A1: It used to be beer on a man's breath... but now I'd have to say it's more that musky sweaty scent on a recently showered man who has spent the last couple of hours thinking of nothing but me. Uh.. in a good way. And preferably with me present.
A2: Fresh mown grass & recently turned earth after a light shower
A3: Roast Beef & veggies simmering in a crock pot aaaaaaalllllll day
A4: I love the way coffee smells, but I won't drink it
A5: Cinnabar, Bill Blass, & Moonflower
A6: Drakkar Noir, Stetson, & Paul Sebastian

Q: Where is your favorite place to vacation?
A1: Ummm... I'm notoriously bad at taking vacation time. If anyone would like to come along & assist me with that, you're more than welcome! lol.
A2: Anywhere with trees & water. I'm not normally big on extreme temperatures, but I thought the canopy in Jamaica was stunningly beautiful, and I'd love to go whitewater rafting again.

Q: Do you collect anything?
A1: Bills & dustbunnies;-)
A2: Hugs, kisses, & other various & sundry sorts of affection! Applicants please form a line to the right
A3: Books - Sci/Fi, Fantasy mostly
A4: I have a passing fancy for frogs... although eventually it may pass? Heh.

Q: Do you have a favorite tv show?
A1: Not really... I'm more of a grazer with remote-engendered pre-carparal tunnel syndrome

Q: Are you crafty? If so, how?
A1: Like a fox! (Oh, yeah.. like that wasn't everyone's first thought)

Q: Do you have kids?
A1: Yep. A shot of tequila every night & a good beating once a week whether they need it or not has done wonders for the little ankle biter! (OMG, I'm just kidding.)

Q: Do you have pets?
A1: Didn't I just answer that question?
A2: OH... PETS! No, as of this writing, I'm still single. Thanks for asking, though!
A3: OH... PETS! Yes -- a cat who graciously allows us to live with her (Cassandra), a new as-yet-unnamed-pleccy in the pond (soon to be joined by some other fishy folk), and a hyperephasic Siberian hamster named Guido who lives at "the zoo" (J&S's house)

Q: What kind of movies do you like?
A1: Anything that makes me laugh... and I don't like the sort of humour that is engendered at other folks' expense. If it makes people feel bad, it's not funny. I just bought the "Thumb" parodies b/c they tickled my fancy. (Thumbtanic, Thumb Wars, BatThumb, Frankenthumb, The Blair Thumb, and .. um... alright, I haven't watched them all yet, give me a break!)
A2: Action, British humour, Love stories, classics, Black&White.... anything but horror. I don't want to watch a horror movie unless someone who's strong & smells good is gonna volunteer to let me "eeek" & hide my face in their shoulder, then be there when I wake up from a nightmare in the middle of the night!

Q: What kind of music do you listen to?
A1: Yes! (Not rap.)

Q: What kind of books do you like to read?
A1: Yes! Gee.. that was easy. lol

Q: Do you have a favorite magazine?
A1: Nope. The kind that stays out of my mailbox, maybe? I still get Reader's Digest as a gift, and that's one of the least objectionable out there... or Time maybe? The Mensa Magazine might be fun to get, too.

Q: What is your favorite weekend activity?
A1: I'm rather fond of breathing. Do a bit of that every weekend I can squeeze it in, in fact.
A2: Doing ANYTHING with my friends - y'all come up with it, I'm probably in.
A3: Alternately, doing not a darn thing with anyone... being alone & quiet in my own space with no interruptions & doing nothing remotely industrious or useful. Veg! Often paired with double-stuff oreos, milk, & a good book. If you can arrange for a good thunderstorm while I'm reading/napping, I'll adore you forever.

Q: What kind of work do you do?
A1: I'm a middle-man! I take &*%^$ from unhappy people on one end & pass it on to people who may very well have been happy until I came along & gave them the aforementioned *&%($ which they now need to fix. Then when they think they've fixed it, I troll it back again. If I'm lucky, they're right & it's really fixed. If I'm not lucky, we do it aaaaaall over again.
A2: I also have the privilege of edumacating the unedumacated & slightly confused about the wheretos & whatfors about & within the environs of my employer.

Q: What do you do for fun?
A1: Why... what a silly question. I Spoil-a-Blogger, of course! :)

Q: What's the average wingspeed velocity of an un-laden swallow?
A1: OMG... who comes up with these silly questions, anyway ;-) (tee hee hee)

08/17/05 - Wednesday - The Eve of St John's

2005-08-18T00:47:00.000-06:00

Well.. here we are.. the night before B starts Kindergarten. Did me absolutely no good to have purchased all her school supplies weeks ago... stocked up on far more uniform combinations than one little girl will need between now & the next time she shoots up another 4 inches like she did over the summer. (I predict at least 2" before Christmas. Any takers?) No... all that solid preparation gone to waste because STACY had to wait til the last blasted minute to do all her back-to-school shopping & kept us out bleary-eyed til Le Targe' closed at 10:00p tonight. Not only that, but she had difficulty finding even one of the THREE copies of the supply lists that I made for her. I know... I didn't have to go... but isn't that what friends are for? I've just gotta give her #*%&, though. As I said... isn't that what friends are for?

Did I mention that I mis-pronounced "artisan" in my substitute-parent Parent/Teacher conference with Haley's teacher? Egads. I'm sure she's looking forward to getting MY kid in a couple of years.

Ok now.. everyone PLEASE call me between 6:30 & 7am tomorrow & bug my answering machine until I wake up & ANSWER it. PLEAAASSSEE!!!! Otherwise, B is likely to start her school career with her very first Tardy, & it will be ALL MY FAULT. Gawd... why does school have to start so bleepin' early? CALL ME!

08/16/05 -- Tuesday

2005-08-16T04:43:00.000-06:00

I can't believe summer is drawing to a close! Where did it go? What did we do with it? For that matter... where'd the last five years go? My little girl starts Kindergarten in THREE DAYS!! Should I not be having a crisis of indefinite proportions? Aside from all the flurry of making sure I have uniforms that fit & the supplies the school requires, I feel as though I really ought to sit down somewhere & have a good cry... not only to mourn all the moments we've missed in the hustle of our lives, but to memorialize all the beautiful ones we have had that I'll carry in my memory until my brain starts losing bits. It makes me infinitely sad that I will stand at the (theoretical) bus stop by myself later this week to watch her go off to begin this new life. 'Cause it really is a new life. It is just now... tonight... really beginning to hit me: the enormity of this change for us. For her. She's so too little to really know it.. feel it... understand it. I know someday when she's a mother, she'll experience it too. That this is something every mother... every (involved) parent experiences. Growing pains! I have other parental friends who have gone through this... who empathize and sympathize, of course. 's not the same, though.. their love. Welcome as it is, this is one of those moments no parent should have to do alone. God set the system up for creation to require two people for a friggin' reason! This is one of those moments that leave me furious - livid, simmering, boiling mad that I will do it just that: alone. But aside from that, it is also one of those moments in parenthood that leave me in utter awe of their simplicity.. their inevitability. The beauty and the pain - the beginning of letting go as tiny wings unfurl just a bit more. It aches, and tears are rolling down my face... but oh, it will be beautiful to see her fly.

08/15/2005 -- Hello from Over Here

2005-08-16T03:02:00.000-06:00

Years separate us
Miles separate us
A wealth of human experience lies between us
A chasm of ignorance
of knowledge
of having done and doing
A wife
Children
Jobs
Homes
pains, joys,
dreams and dreaming
And yet, when you held me in your arms
I felt the world fade away
That insoucant bubble of something
something odd
something delicious
warm
completely wonderful
something most remarkably individual
I've never felt with anyone else
drew around us, warm invisible cloak
tendrils of soul flare out towards one another
greet, warmly - old familiar friend
like when you place your fingers
warm against the glass of
one of those electricity balls at Spencer's
We can be so very distant
In so many ways
for so very, very long
and yet, I always feel you here
I never feel without you
Many kinds of loves leave me wanting
yearning, hoping... often in vain
waiting to be filled
with something I can't even define
Begging me to give something I may not have to give
But with you I have always felt simply
complete
I miss you
but I yearn for nothing
you're always here
It's that corner of my soul
where you once made yourself comfortable
it holds both memory and promise
stretches beyond this fragile lifetime
speaks of lifetimes stretching before & behind us
I know you're out there
and I know you will return
in some life, if not in this one
and with that I am content
How can I not be?
I trust in your love
In this something I cannot define
This something that is not Lover, but Loved
Not husband, but heart
Not passion, but muse
Not merely friend, but more
perhaps less in many ways, but still more
Not like anything with anyone else
It trancends my experience
Defies my explanations
Threatens nothing and noone
Who know me best, love me truly
You define a part of who I am
A part of who I used to be
A part of who I like to be
You are a pillar of my Creation
A piece of the foundation of my Self
Out there, living wonderfully
I send you....
warm thoughts
much love
Hope, faith, perserverance
all things good, and warm, and safe
exhilaration
appreciation of the present
and anticipation of the future
Of all people in the world
You, I love

08/09/05 - Tuesday.. A Little Bit of Liquid Bliss

2005-08-09T15:00:00.000-06:00

A pond, a pond, I have a pond! More important, I have a waterfall. Oh, the sheer music of it when I open my back door. Makes me want to change bedrooms with B so I can crack the window & listen to it all night long!!

Last week, my sis & her husband came in for a flying visit. In one day, out the next, their list of "wanna do"s for while they were here was long enough to make me exhausted just reading it, although I was game to give it a try. Luckily (for me), a good solid perusal of a clock prevailed... but (again, luckily for me), sanity did NOT. One field trip to Cahokia Mounds including my friend AmyS & her two kids in our crew was all the extracurricular activity we managed to squeeze in... but at the last minute my bold sis volunteered her know-how & her husband's brawn & told me if I'd buy a pump, they'd put in a pond. How's that for an offer, eh?

Well... actually... she told me if I could get Dad to buy a pump, they'd put in a pond. But I managed to talk her out of the Dad requirement & just let me buy it myself ;-) Them's sure some darn good ideas she comes up with, ain't they?

I've now made 5 trips to Yard Lines, 6 to Lowe's, 4 to Home Depot, 2 to Scott's, 3 to WalMart and 1 to Effinger's, and..... I have a POND! With water in it! And a WATERFALL! And lights (which are only working sporadically... my electrics wizard is on vacation or somesuchthing in Canada this week. Hmpf. The nerve! hee hee). And PLANTS, too! My sis brought with her a nice selection of several varieties of Hostas & ferns to fill out the flower bed we mangled into 1/2 it's original size, and I'm putting a sweet little retaining wall around the backside of them. (Got the paver sand last night.. now all I need is time & energy. Anybody got any time & energy they can loan me? I appear to be fresh out.) And this morning... well.. this morning I got WATER PLANTS! A REAL water lily, water lettuce, water hyacinth, water cannas, the water sweet grass K brought with her, and .. um... one other one I can't 'member the name of right now - Oh! Rain Lily (totally different from a water lily - it's green is all spiky like onion with pretty white flowers.) Geez, I hope my black thumb didn't touch 'em too long when I tossed 'em in!

I still have plenty to do -- settle the retaining wall in place, at least 2 more trips to Yard Lines for more rock, decide how to treat the edge of the pond that butts up against my patio, plant a few more greens, maybe put in another waterfall??, I need Shaun badly to get the electric settled properly (and safely), shop for a coupla fish, name the darn things, find a great little rocker and/or table/chairs for the patio (somehow, a strato-lounger, while conducive to pond-enjoyment, just doesn't seem to fit the ambiance.), then pick up some lemonade & see who I can coerce over to come & enjoy it with me. YEA! Maybe if I baked cookies?