when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Neither son could get off of work as they are both in the service industry these days (at least they are working. My Dad always has holidays with his "New Family" and we are not invited. Tate suggested several times we go somewhere exotic and warm and just get out of dodge for the holidays, and then i remind him about our simple little dog. The one with severe separation anxiety issues, "Oh yeah, maybe next year" he says.
The beach, although cold this time of year, is the best option. Moving out of the office and into the house, running my own shop and Tate's office, FEELING RIDICULOUSLY GUILTY for abandoning my sons on ones (youngest) birthday and JC's birthday too. Find someone to care for the house and the critters left behind, apologize to the boys a thousand times.. . Online classes, moving way too fast, phone lines not working, satellite internet very confusing to set up, coughing, fever, body aches, shoulders to the ears with stress.
Been here for a few days now, T caught 2 Red Drum, 2 sharks, and one skate.
I caught a BUNCH of Z's.
Dreamed of shooting a man 2 nights ago, scary was trying to avoid getting caught; they were on to me and the chest on top of the secret door in the floorboards.
Last night, a trick to get me to the new agey creepy doctor, when I have so many things to do, jobs to do today, now! I am late and he continues to treat me, babbling some new agey bullshit about how everybody has this stress, this fear of failure, you are holding it right here. He takes a penlike buzzing tool and presses it all around my shoulders and neck. I can feel it in my mouth, it is incredibly painful and I am holding on to being stressed and inconvenienced until-
it all falls away,
and it feels really good, warm, relaxed and calm.
and what if we really let it all go? The stress, the guilt the worry? What if we just allowed ourselves to live for the moment, be here be now, to do what we do because it is what we are doing, not what will be the result of our doing so? Would we breathe easier?
There is no cohesion to this post, and I really don't care, it's just what I am talking about now, or then,
And this morning I felt much better, but not 100 percent. Chest still tight, the fever seems to be breaking, so I thought it would be a good idea to jump into the ocean. I put on my bathing suit and grabbed a towel. I ran down the boardwalk passing two people bundled up in layers of clothing, winter hats and coats and took a quick sprint on the cold hard sand. Then up to Tate who spends hours feeding his Obsessive Fishing Disorder on the shoreline,waiting.
"Think thats a good idea, you've been sick for two weeks?"
"What else am I gonna do? Maybe this will get me over it"
"Maybe not" he said.
I ran into the ocean, a shock of cold seized my lungs and pulled me down to my feet. I did not let my head go under, I have a fever.
I told myself I was doing it for Jesus' birthday. I would feel like a newborn baby afterwards.
Why I tell myself such lies, I will never understand.
Merry Christmas to you all, warm solstice, happy thoughts and best wishes for the New Year.
Monday, December 17, 2007
"No" I replied "that would be a fear of heights. I am afraid of falling, all the time, even right here, right now."
"Everybody, that is one strange chick." he announced to my fellows in the break room. They laughed, but it's still true.
Unlike Me and bobby McGee, having nothing does not give me a sense of freedom, but one of acceptance and control. There is no where to fall, when you're already down. I know there have been several songs to the point, I am not stating something profound and new but how, at this stage in my life, after surviving the homelessness, the single-motherhood, the poverty, welfare lines, food stamps, lonliness and humiliation, I am here holding my breath.. . in this house of cards. . . praying not to fall.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Stop at the bank, drive through teller, two days forgotten deposit.
How are you? the Teller asks
Cold, no heat.
The doe eyed young teller tells me she thinks my dog looks OK, even if it is cold.
Oh right, this has nothing to do with me.
I remembered to check with her on car loan rates, I have an appointment with the dealer tomorrow. I must be armed with defensive tactics and alternative interest rate information, the bastards.
Here's the "Christine" part of my tedious mundane story;
My car heard me tell the banker he was headed for the scrap heap. At this admission, he simply gave up any appearance of caring for me or his life. I retrieved my deposit slip and put it in my purse. I hit the up button on the drivers side window, to no avail. The window motor squealed and hissed and said something about me freezing in hell.
Did I mention the fact that it is 28 degrees outside?
Tomorrow, the heat in that new metallic blue Caliber is going to feel really really good. Take that you rusty old pop can, take it to your cold grave.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Hybrids, have batteries which are terribly toxic not to mention non-biodegradable, which need to be replaced every 5 years? I don't feel warm and fuzzy about them yet. I think I like the Toyota Matrix, but my son who works parking cars for a hotel tells me they are not impressive. He's a Honda guy; forget I mention him.
I also am attracted to the Dodge Caliber, AWD. Don't know anything about it though.
A few of you have recently experienced the new car dilemma, as I recall, I am wondering if you also feel the futility of this situation. I mean, whatever I buy today, in the very new future, will probably become obsolete. This is the transitional phase. Numerous Hybrids are out now, all in beginning stages of development (NPR this morning compared them to early cell phones, the size of a brick). Tales of hydrogen fuel cells, switch-grass and plankton fuels, and of course the bio-diesel mass production all make me feel like buying a horse instead.
Imagine that, me on a great Clydesdale, riding into town to buy a cuppa Joe.
OK enough of that, what car do you like?
Monday, December 03, 2007
Saturday, December 01, 2007
- Thanksgiving- boys both getting here, yet missing seeing each other.
-Nemesis whom I have a no trespass order against seems to have taken up residence across the street from my shop.
-All of those dreams, pick a dream, any dream (why don't I?)
-Going to the movies with Avi and Isabella after Thanksgiving and seeing all those handsome,love them movie stars- yes I mean Tommy Lee Jones and that Javierre dude in No Country for Old Men.(awesome movie)
-Barefoot girl(13 years old, 30 degrees outside) in my shop.
-Loosing an entire week of time, that's a new one for me. An hour or two or three fine, but a week?
-I need a new car, here's my picks, what do you think?
-I have to write a paper this week on compare and contrast two cultures, pick any cultures in the world and demonstrate their life perspectives/dynamic from birth to the grave. What 2 cultures should I compare?
I have all that in my head and lots more, but I have been reading up on my favorite blogs, not doing homework, not cutting any hair, not practicing my fiddle, not reading my novel- "The Other Boleyn Girl"-Philippa Gregory, nor odering furniture for the new office, not blogging, because I am too hungry now. I'll be back later, after some food, yes food.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
I am supposed to be working in the office right NOW. Instead I am trying to catch up on your blogs. Found this on Full Soul Ahead this morning and need to revisit it and integrate it on my site, but later. If you have time, check it out, I read it is addictive.Food for Thought
Friday, November 23, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Once he heard me, I said it out loud.
It's up your butt lookin for a ham sandwich, that's what David Bromberg's wife would tell you.
-She says that?
long conversation, he missed that part of the show, probably outside smoking a cigarette, but he understood and that's all that mattered at the time.
Now, we both agreed it was a rude and crass kind of thing to say. We were both puzzled by the gentle giant with his soulful acoustic yet cynical tone admitting to the fact that his wife said such things. We never agreed that it was funny. I have not fessed up to how many times I have thought the ham sandwich phrase in response to the famous "where's my. . . "question.
(As an aside, yes there usually is one, totally over hearing my kids ask me where their shit was, my old response was "Key word-MY!" this is way better)
Tate is the love of my life, you know that. He is also the only man who has ever cooked the majority, if not all of our meals and they are always delicious, I have ever lived with. This includes my Chef-brother. We lived together for years.
Last weekend he went grocery shopping at 7:30 am and prepped the majority of our Thanksgiving dinner. In triumph the next day he asked me, "Where do you think my twenty pound turkey is?"
God help me, I could NOT resist.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
in our safe warm beds, last night
one more legend died
Henry Mailer died last night. His name is very familiar to me and so is Norman Miller. Wait, I think I have that backwords (sp. error intended because it makes more sense that way). Is it Henry Miller and Norman Mailer or the other way around? The Mailer one (who died last night) was quoted in USA Today as saying this:
Poetry: A "natural activity ... a poem comes to one," whereas prose required making "an appointment with one's mind to write a few thousand words."
That's pretty right on if you ask me. If I had space in my mental appointment book for anything other than nightmares and worrisome mind weeds these days, I make an appointment for those few thousand words.
I also heard on the radio that N or H Mailer said that writing while stoned on pot was a bad idea. Pot was great for editing because it is then the enormous feeling and sensitivity comes in handy. If a writer is in a state of heightened sensitivity and attempts to write, it is nearly impossible. He said this was due to the fact that a writer needs to define and state the surface, the big idea, but if they are stoned on pot, its as if each thought and feeling were larger than the universe and impossible to define.
I can't smoke pot anymore; I am hypersensitive to the universe as it is. I guess I will have to pay M@ to edit my writing or some other stoner writer, from now on.
I know he was considered a chauvinist; I don't think so. I think he loved women in the way a god worships a goddess, but I never met the man. I've never even read his books. I would have, but I could never remember who the cooler author was. Did I want to read Miller or Mailer? I am serious. Help me out here, if you can.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Take it home, store it in the fridge, cupboards, maintain proper temperatures. Maintain the mortgage. Go to work, after caring for the body. Cook the food, eat it in 15 minutes, then clean up for an hour.
I would rather grab a handful of kibble.
Life has been full on BUSY lately. Not complaining but...
Yesterday as I was doing the body care thing I grabbed the zinc free natural deodorant for my underarms and rubbed it into my forehead.
Might be a sign, you think? I just might be a bit overwhelmed with all these human details.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
There's no black people in Santa Barbara is there, Moreno Nariz?
No Mr. President, mostly rich white folks.
I see. I authorize the sending of food, water, shelter and federal aid, immediately.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Love this new refurbished Gateway with Windows Vista though, love it.
And the entire city is engulfed in flames, Santa Anna, Santa Anna- dreamed of it half the night, or maybe it was a nightmare
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Last night a baby Gateway showed up in a box at our front doorstep. In between jobs and a final paper for Psych class,tech support and me will get back on track.
You do not wish you were here, and it is not too much fun. Catch you all later, I hope.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Bobo is a teddy bear of an animal. He gets confused,sometimes he thinks he is a Black Bear. Sometimes he thinks he can wrestle with other Black Bears and he can play with them any time he wants to... or, that's what he used to think. I hope.
Sunday morning he entered the bedroom trailing a small beach of sand on his paws. "billy bob, could you bring in any more dirt on your paws this morning?" I asked him as he sat and stared at me with his innocent expression, and then. . . I saw it. A wide canyon gash the length of his forearm. It was oozing but not pouring blood. Apparently the artery was spared. We rushed him to the emergency Vet by 9:00 on Sunday morning. I picked him up (an hour away from home, only day off per week)and returned home with a seriously groggy and sore baby by 9:00pm. I wanted to take his picture with the plastic lampshade he is supposed to wear, but he won't let me near him with it. He is way too debonair for that sort of nonsense.
Today is Wednesday. This morning he went back to chasing squirrels. You cant keep a good Bobo down, no-one can, not even a bear.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
In August 2004, several news media outlets reported that a wild black bear was found passed out after drinking about 36 cans of beer in Baker Lake, Washington, USA. The bear opened a camper's cooler and used its claws and teeth to puncture the cans. It was found the bear selectively opened cans of Rainier Beer and left all but one Busch beer unconsumed.(retrieved from http://www.Wickipedia.com)
Another sleepless night, for Tate.
I can sleep through anything.
When I was a kid, I slept through a house fire, but that's another story for some other time.
Billy Bob barked all night long. The air was cool and Fall had begun; the window above our bed was open all night.
Bark, bark, bark. . .
all night long. . .
That was the question we had in the morning. And then we saw it. All of the bird feeders that Tate tends to diligently had been torn from the tree limbs. One feeder sits on a pole and is constructed of heavy duty fiberglass,it was torn apart and mangled.
The cat was hiding behind the barn; something we never see normally.
Paw prints, scratch marks, it was a bear.
That was three nights ago.
The next night after Tate restored the feeders to their proper places (if they were not destroyed) and coerced them back into shape, the barking began again. This night however, the barker stayed on the porch. In the morning, the destruction was re-created.
Bird feeders down, mangled, and empty.
Billy-Bob brought us a present though, you know, to compensate for the fact that a one hundred pound dog is no appropriate match for a three hundred pound Black Bear. But he kept us up at night barking, for the past three nights, in case we wanted to go toe -to- toe with the beast ourselves.
No he didn't catch the bear, but he brought us a baby rabbit instead.
That makes up for everything right?
Post note: Tate saw the bear this morning before sunrise. It was in front of the house (near the bird feeder) not ten feet away from the front door. Billy Bob, aka Bo-Bo, was in its' face, chasing him and barking and nipping at him.
I am concerned. I think we should feed it. It's time to hunker down for the Winter, but what if I don't have any donuts one day? What then? The beer cooler? No way!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
As I am drifting off to sleep
I compose the most beautiful poems in my head
I assure myself I will remember them
and write them down on paper in the morning
But I never remember them, unlike my dreams
I wrote the best poem ever, in my head
my lovely little head
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The driver, a late to middle aged woman slammed on her brakes, then proceeded with her parking job. I stood, staring at the car from my front door. There was an elderly woman in the passengers seat. We all made eye contact. I thought they would say something, like, are you okay or I didn't see you, something. . . but no. They parked the car, walked down the street to the store and I thought it was all very strange. And then!
The old passenger baglady walked into my shop and asked how much a mans haircut would cost. I told her as I looked at her incredulously, it would be 15.00$.
She said, "the lady who used to cut his hair (her husband)moved away, she only charged 8.00$."
"So what" Thats all I had to say.
BTW, I happen to know the local lady who cut hair out of her house, no overhead who charged 8.00. She's a hack, always has been and isn't anymore because she had to move and get a real job where she could have benefits. She is not cutting anyones hair for 8.00 anymore. So what.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Camping just does not get any better than that. It just doesn't.
For those of you wanting to hear some of those stories, from Midwifery school on the border, like the time I pre-paid a man to watch my babies while I was at the clinic three 24 hr. shifts plus per week, who took my money but failed to show up to our apartment in the morning. I saw his sketch years later on America's Most Wanted. He was involved in a mass murder (3 or 4 people) (does that make a mass murder?),at a bowling alley in Las Cruces NM. He didn't have me fooled for a minute.
I am gathering, but once again off to job number 3 for the day before I can go home.
I miss you all and happy Equinox, hooray!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I am not talking about the in and out of favor of the Hollywood type, but of the desire to attend women in labor. I began studying Midwifery when I was 18 years old and pregnant with my first son. My mentor and favorite midwife of all times, lived down the dirt road from me. I lived in a 12X12ft. cabin with no indoor plumbing. I studied everything I could get my hands on. I talked about births with Meg O and would attend seminars and weekend workshops but I needed to get to births other than my own.
By the time I was 23, I was the proud single welfare -mother of two babies. I had no child support, no job skills and no real family close by. I wanted to move closer to my family, but I did not want them to see how "unsuccessful" I had become.
Giving birth to two beautiful healthy boys was not good enough, you know, I am Jewish, I needed to be something. Someone educated, to be respected, or so I thought.
I applied to one of those grueling midwifery apprenticeships on the Mexican border. Midwifery boot camp.
Six months, no sleep. Six months, 55 births and my 2 year old son forgot who I was. He only recognized me (if I was able to escape the compound for more than an hour)by the reaction of his brother. His older brother, he was four, would shout with unquenchable excitement, "MOM-MOM" whenever I could get across the border to visit.
It was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. Hardest on my heart; but it was also one of the most spectacular and rewarding. It seems strange but those births, the women the babies, the other apprentices, the border, all amazing.
I still attend the occasional birth. I no longer have the ability to give birth myself. I sometimes assist women with pre-natal instruction and hypnosis for birthing.
I recently decided to become more active in the birthing community and like I say, one day you are in, the next day you are out.
It's a dangerous game in today's society. Persecution, comes from three sides of the fence. Do I trust the women of our current society? The pious and the litigious? And then there are the midwives with their economic competition and their push to be able to be legal, licensed by the board of medicine, accept insurance and medicaid, without paying in to the system. Third side, the Doctors and the CNMs who have to cease attending births and loose all that money because they cannot afford the malpractice insurance; they cannot practice without it by law. But the Midwives can practice now, if they comply and pay the Board of medicine.
I received a call the other day, a woman due to have her first baby in April. Elation.
You're in, you're out.MY website has been updated by a pro
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Friday, September 07, 2007
Thanks to you who held your comments as well. I can't help it if you haven't an eye for art, if it is art, after all.
Anyway, I am hanging the last two pieces today. It's been a few years since I've had a show, so I guess it's a sign I am not dead yet or some kind of change.
I sent pictures to two of my most respected artist friends and asked their critique on "MMNNN" or my version of "The Kiss".
Georgia P. said the mask effect of the woman disturbed her.
Tate thought I made him look fat(he is the man in the painting). I didn't care what he said. After I nearly got into fisty cuffs with him over his comments he admitted he knew nothing about art and if I kept pressuring him he was going to buy the poster of the dogs playing cards.
But I trust Georgia. I re-worked the woman's face, and a few other spots as well. I attempted to make Tate look trimmer. He still doesn't get it. What can I say? He doesn't know art. I will post a picture of it tomorrow (thank you for the spelling lesson Jerri).
Until then, have a look at Good Morning Mr.Tom.I love him, he stumbled onto my blog and I am tickled to meet him, virtually that is.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I am still running from job to job to music lesson to house keeping to painting and working on my abs and trying to keep up with reading cards and novels AND classes just started.
Honestly, I had no idea August was nearing it's end.
See you next month, maybe.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Two days ago, I ran from job to job to appointment to errand and in between my last errand and my violin lesson, I stopped in to say 'see you later' to the boy. He's headed to a certain university in New York city.
Clean shaven, packed and ready, he stands in Maggie's living room. Cicadas' symphony berates my ears, but I hear him say "Everything I need to start my new life, right here."
One large borrowed suitcase, one backpack, one pillow and one sleeping bag.
I didn't have to give the lecture; the drugs, the drinking or the sex lecture, he doesn't seem to need it anymore. Experience shows me, I've lain a strong foundation; it's up to him and god now, and fate, maybe fate too.
I missed the chance to have lunch with him, we were both too busy, so I walked to the fig tree in the garden. The sweet ones were too high for me to reach, but he hardly had to stretch to reach them for me.
They have grown sweet and he,tall.
Ok, he says as he hugs me and kisses the top of my head, I love you.
I love you too, I think, but I cannot speak just yet. I hold on to keep from falling. How did all of those years go by so quickly? My head is spinning, a vortex of pride, anticipation and grief.Yes grief. If only we could do it all over again, this time I would be better.
I hear his voice, before it changed. The way he called my name, Mom. I remember my own feelings of newness and excitement edged in a lining of fear of the unknown and unexpected future when I left home for the first time. He feels them now, but it isn't his first time leaving.
A few years ago, it was Boston, fifteen hours away.
I cried the entire drive home.
"I love you too." I said and turned quickly to my car.I didn't want him to see me cry.
I only cried for a few minutes and said to myself, I think you're getting better at this empty nest thing.
But now as I stand here typing these words on my keyboard with tears rolling down my cheeks and a lump in my throat that often accompanies a good cry, I know I am kidding myself.
Is there any emotion more painful than this love?
Thursday, August 23, 2007
You are The Moon
Hope, expectation, Bright promises.
The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.
The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
I am adding this test to my links- it doesn't take long, it's over there-in all your spare time, I know.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Actually he's wearing clean shorts, his work boots(one pair out of hundreds, maybe), clean tee shirt and he's looking hot.
He has the greatest legs I've ever seen.
-What are you getting ready to do? I ask
-Thought we'd go to the grocery store.
-We? I hate grocery shopping, you know that.
-I don't know. I reply in my worst Jewish flavored whine.
-I'll take you to dinner first, your choice. Come on,it'll be fun.
It's a tough call, but there is nothing to eat in the house and I hate for him to go anywhere without me on a Saturday night, or any night for that matter.
We went to a quiet little Chinese/Japanese place in town. They have the best spring rolls we have ever had, and we've tried a few.
I had Sake, two orders.
Then the torture, the grocery store, but he said it would be fun.
I picked out some lemons and some limes, Tate went to the exotic produce section (imagine that).
Ooh, those are hot, I said in a soft deep voice as I leaned into him by the produce display. They could hurt you, if you let them, I continued. They will make you cry, they will beat you into submission, make you slap someone, yourself even if you don't look out.
He holds his deadpan, pokerface expression as he fills his produce bag, and then turns toward me with a wicked smile.
They make you talk dirty, that's what they do, more habeneros for you.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
If I lived in Varallo, I'd be collecting some euros.
I'm working on having a "smokin hot body" like the 50 something woman on the t.v.testimonial for BoFlex.
I've been doing my little workout to include over 100 crunches per day for the past 27 days. I do them on the floor of our bedroom.
I am actually stating to get some tone in my abs, not quite a six pack, yet.
It's more like a four pack right now.
Tate was so impressed with my 'stick-to-it-ness' (and the possibility of the tight tummy to ensue I suppose)
he bought me a BoFlex.
It is impressive, really, I think.
I know I am going to have that Boflex body some day-
If we ever get the energy to get it out of the boxes and put the contraption together, I'm going to be
Smokin hot I tell you, smokin hot.
This in from Reuters this morning:MILAN (Reuters) - Overweight residents of an Italian town will be paid to lose weight, the mayor said on Monday.
Men living in the northwestern Italian town of Varallo will receive 50 euros ($70) for losing 4 kg (9 pounds) in a month, Mayor Gianluca Buonanno said. Women will get the same amount for shedding 3 kg (7 pounds).
If they can keep the weight off for 5 months, they will get another 200 euros ($280), he told Reuters.
"Lots of people are saying, 'I really need to lose some weight but it's really tough.' So I thought, why don't we go on a group diet?" said Buonanno, who said he was about 6 kg (13 pounds) overweight.
The town of 7,500 people started the campaign on Friday and some residents have already signed up, he said.
Reuters 2007. All Rights Reserved.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Tate does the grocery shopping, bless him.
Last night as he was cooking dinner, bless him again,
after he cut the grass and worked all day in the above 99 degree weather, bless him again
He told me that he saw beautiful roses on sale in the store today.
He thought about buying me a bunch and then imagined how small that bunch would seem compared to how much he loves me.
He said he considered buying every bunch in the room, and there were many, but it still didn't seem as if there would ever be enough roses to convey how much he loves me.
Yes, we have been cross with each other the past few days. We had been mis communicating and he said some harsh words about my recent painting.
His excuses for not buying me roses absolve him from those past few days.
So what if he doesn't understand art, no-one liked Van Gogh when he was living either.
I don't need roses to know how much this man loves me.
I am a very lucky girl.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Spring Grass, acrylic on canvas, Stacy sheer-2007
Mmmmn- acrylic on canvas-Stacy Sheer 2007
-acrylic on canvas, Stacy Sheer 2007.
Monday, August 06, 2007
and puts her long dark hair in a twist upon her head.
Catholic cross;not Celtic, talisman around her neck.
See through flowery blouse, like the one Eunice(the Carol Burnett character) might wear to the mask.
Lipstick, glossy and red
"If you beg the court, they usually reduce your penalty"- her friends tell her.
She believes them.
She is beckoned to appear before his royal Highness
How do you plea? He commands
Quaking in her sandals she replies "Both, guilty and not guilty, your royalness. You see, I was in a hurry and I know I was going too fast, but I do not believe I would have been going that fast. I would be frightened(snicker)".
His smile is an upside down smile, only the curve at the top center of his lips let on, he is amused.
"I do not make the rules of the kingdom, little waif, I only interpret them. You were flying in your chariot and all the fake boobs, slutty makeup, eye battin and talismans in the world aren't gonna change that.
Pay the clerk, full charge.
Friday, August 03, 2007
But it's him and I am unsure whether it is a premonition or a nightmare or an actual dream. What was life like before our little friend Stop-It came along?
This from my surfing today(is it still called surfing?)
The Dreams Foundation in Canada
Catholic Bishop Joseph Lanyl dreamed of the assassination of the arch-duke of Austria, François-Ferdinand de Habsbourg. In vain, he tried to reach the arch-duke to warn him of the assassination which occurred June 28, 1914 in Sarajevo — the event that triggered the first world war.
A few days before his assassination, American President Abraham Lincoln, who was very attentive to his dreams, dreamt of his own corpse laid out in a room in the white house. Martin Luther King also seems to have had a precognitive dream about his death a few months before his assassination.
A day before the Titanic's demise, a woman on the infamous ship dreamt of the horrible event that was to occur the next day. She told her husband, who scoffed at her worries and ignored her pleas. However, the dream so affected her that she secretly prepared herself the night before and had all her children sleep in their warm clothes in order to be ready at a moment's notice. During the night, when the ship struck the iceberg, she and her children managed to escape and be rescued. Her husband, sadly, went down with the ship.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
I talked to Dariya in Thailand. She is my oldest son's beautiful girlfriend. We were discussing photographs and paintings and I asked her what those bird footed, winged golden creatures were, the statues in front of a temple.
She said they are Kinnaree, they are kind of like Sirens, she said.
Thank you Dariya for sending me this and everything-Wisdom from Wiley's girlfriend in Thailand
Friday, July 27, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
I am so happy for all of the intense things you have been up to lately. (writers workshop, meeting with friends, travel)
After posting a comment on your Blog yesterdayReflections On The Pond about getting off the bus early and taking a new way home, I dreamt last night of the very drama.
I was in my blind mother's house. I wanted to work on the computer. Some creepy guy was in the room with computer so i went to her secret hidden room. I had to crawl through a hidden tiny doorway to enter and the room walls were lined with fireplaces and there were fires in them. I thought , this isn't safe, blind mother in crowded fire filled room.
I used her computer but i think i had to put it on the floor, desk too cluttered. Anyway-to make it brief, i was supposed to get on the bus to go to the burbs, but there were so many buses and so few of them went there and i couldn't find the right bus so i just got on any city bus and while riding realized it would be fun to get off anywhere.
So I did. I was walking down city streets and up a steel outdoor staircase and met a man with a sculpted head in his hand. He was reciting poetry and descending the stairs. We began to talk and i woke up.
I feel the need to do something completely spontaneous and different.Exciting, like you have been doing.
Lots of love to you-Stacy
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
chubby damp thighs rub together when she walks, belly poking out
sand causes grimaces and snarls
leopard skin swimsuit, black fishnet webbing down the center
sister and cousin, the nemesis team, poke fun at her silly body and expressions
juvenile self loathing
she wanders alone on the shoreline
yearning to be free
after forty plus years
certain moments leave her with an expression of misery
still uncomfortable in her skin
Okay, sometimes it is uncomfortable being in a body and the only relief i find is painting.
Still being beat up by the stars and Mercury but also this; I walked into free exhibition space in a local restaurant. Unlimited in time , window space on the street. I have been working, and framing, and stretching and priming and miss you all but that is where I have to be right now. We'll catch up soon!
Monday, July 16, 2007
It was my first one in 12 years.
I used to drive fast all the time, but that was a long time ago.
Really; I lost my "driving privileges" in three states, yes, three.
I was running late to a Sunday appointment.
I was meeting with a new client.
I was going 70 in a 55.
At least that's what the cop said.
I can't believe it.
I think I was only going 65.
He took fifteen minutes to write me the damned ticket, while I waited in my car.
Lights flashing the entire time
In front of god and everybody.
As if I had all day.
Could buzz head not understand!!!
I WAS RUNNING LATE.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Due to circumstances beyond our control all communications will be frustrating and screwed up until Monday July 23rd.
Your hour long drive to work will take an hour and forty five minutes as you are stuck behind a diesel puking behemoth for the greater part of your journey.
You will ride a telephone trail for two hours to then be disconnected. You will be trying to reach a person who works in the correct department of your credit card company to let them know that the payment you've made to your business account has been applied to your personal account.
You will arrive at your office to find the company books have freakishly rolled backwards six weeks in time. You will call the software company and receive a message that they are too busy to help you now.
You will call the College where your son will be attending in less than 2 months in order to determine how much deeper into debt you will be going this semester and the phone will ring continuously for thirty minutes before you give up and hang up.
You will remember at the last minute that you may not have made a company credit card payment online which is due this weekend and you attempt to log on and receive a message that they are experiencing a high volume of traffic on their site, please try again later.
Repeat after me: Ahhh-Ommm, Ahh-Oom
Mercury is really screwing with me, hope you are all remaining unaffected by this frustrating force of communications, travel and technology. Be safe. I am not coming back until it's over. . . well maybe not that long, who knows.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
When I was a kid I thought they were "Black-Guy Susans" and I remember throwing several tantrums as we drove along the freeway because my mother would not stop the car and let me pick them where they grew on the median strips.
She was such a bitch!
I packed my violin (afternoon lesson)and freed up the washing machine where a string got stuck in the spinning thing, somewhere in there I had a bath and got dressed and did my daily Taro reading.
Today will be a good day,we are leaving our old fears behind.
I drove to the office and I realized that I have not been here in seven days so I wont be able to talk about the reunion or the disturbing newsflash I caught a glimpse of on the CNN loop this morning.
I only have 3 minutes and I am a slow keyboarder, but I cannot go without saying this anyway.
Evidence was found that linked a woman who is currently in prison for murdering her boyfriend to the bombing murder of an Erie Pa. man in 2003. (Erie always seemed like an ominous place to me )
A pizza delivery man delivered a pizza, was robbed and somehow a bomb was placed around his neck like a necklace and he was shown sitting in front of a police car on the ground. Obviously the man was agitated and was said to have been screaming, "Get this thing off of me, it's going to blow"
The man exploded and the funny thing is-yep, here is something funny- The CNN gargoyle said that they now have reason to believe the man's story, that he did not put this bomb on himself. For what reason? To get attention? For Christ's sake! I do not recall hearing this story when it occurred, I could have done without hearing about it now. Why watch the news? What good does it do?
I could lead in to a family story here, about a relative who desperately needed a job so he put a wad of duct tape around his neck and walked into a car dealership demanding a job or he'd blow the place up, but I don't have time.
I could tell you about all the food, laughter, pranks, and booze and lots of funny children at the reunion but like I said-
Like good Southerners however, we did check in on Uncle Bobby. It was kind of him to put us up in his fine establishment. Could be worse, it could be Arlington Cemetery, right?
The sign reads: CLEAN ROOMS GOOD RATES CABLE
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Thank goodness for sons born after 1980. He fixed it, but now I just don't have time to say what I wanted to say.
How about this: I missed you all!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
How could you really? I am not always sure who I am or why I am here so how could anyone else portray the forever Changling, me? How?
So for my happy birthday, Tate bought me a very large cabbage, serious, it's what I asked for. I got a few flowers and phone calls too but I didn't get the card with the check for ten dollars that I usually get on my birthday from my grandmother, because she was in the hospital having her gall bladder removed. They admitted her on her birthday, her 87th. I told her she needed to pick a better party spot, she agreed.
Last night I dreamed one of those terrifying flying over the snake infested swampy lawn but this time there were O-Possums too (GROSS). The snakes have been here alot lately and so have my murderous behavior dreams and I spare you all the details because whenever I tell my sons or Tate about them, they get a bit upset. I guess it is disturbing to hear about your mom or wife ripping someones testicles off with your bare hands in self defense and or slitting throats with razor blades over and over again. So I will spare you and suffer these realms on my own, don't worry it's fine.
I also dreamed that a family member discovered he had scabies. That is always disturbing. I awoke itching in a bikini line all across my waist and legs and it extends into my belly button and down my thighs.
Thank you Kramer for the Chigger Bikini, love it. Now, where did I put that stash of Benadryl?
I am out of town for a few days, like the majority of you. I will miss you. Back soon, have happy holidays(even if you , like me, do not believe we as a nation are very independent after all).
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thinking about a glass or two of wine, a hot bath and going to sleep.
Tate rolling full steam ahead as usual, cutting grass, caring for equipment, preparing dinner. Tate grills on the deck nearly 350 days per year. I am not complaining, trust me, but I enter the house this tiresome evening and realize how rude of me it would be to not pitch in and do a few chores inside the house.
I take the Plow and Hearth compost bucket out to the compost pile, then dead -head a few flowers on the pathway back to the house.
When I get to the front door, ready for the bath, I look down at Kramer the Stink Terrier. Again, he has found something putrid to roll in.
I whisk him to the outdoor tub and shampoo him twice. I leave him outside to dry and shake.
"I had to bathe him twice to get the stink out of him this time" I say.
"You're leaving him outside to dry? What if he rolls in whatever it is again ?" Tate asks me.
"Then I will leave him outside all damn night!"
Tate puts on his puzzled face, "How will he know why he is being punished and locked out all night?" (Kramer hates to stay outside without one of us outside with him)
"I will just lean out the door and TELL HIM WHY, THAT'S HOW" I reply with the utmost sincerity.
"Oh, I see. Things have been so much better around here since we took Kramer to those English classes haven't they?"
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
so I did. I know it is a federal offense to send threats of any kind, especially death threats to the Vice- President (or maybe just the President?)but is it illegal to tell them that you pray for their imminent physical and political paralysis and a slow and painful death?
Just wondering. Please write to me in Guantanamo
(notice how cool they are acting?)
Thank you for e-mailing Vice President Cheney. Your comments,
suggestions and concerns are important to him. Unfortunately,
because of the large volume of e-mail received, the Vice
President cannot personally respond to each message. However,
members of the Vice President's staff consider and report
citizen ideas and concerns. Please visit the White House web
site for the most up-to-date information on Presidential
initiatives, current events, and topics of interest to you.
Thank you again for taking the time to write.CODE PINK
Friday, June 22, 2007
Setting-Sometime early last Summer- Crozet Va.(location of Tate's office where I am employed)
Daytime driving with son who is up on all local happenings- to a point.
A- Hey Mom, want to go check out the Arc?
S- What Arc?
A- A movie is being filmed in Virginia and it's a sequel to Bruce Almighty (Jim Carey, Morgan Freeman and other genius actors). They've built some enormous Arc somewhere, maybe it's in Waynesboro.
Actually the two above characters are driving within 3 miles of said Arc as they are having this discussion. Later this afternoon:
Enter R, a co-worker in Crozet.
R- Did you see the giraffes at the gas station when you came in?
R- For the movie, they are doing some kind of Noah's arc thing. Did you hear about it?
S- Yeah, we were talking about it this morning, me and Av. Where is it?
R- Across the street from the gas station. The station we drive by everyday and buy our fuel for our company. You have to drive down the road to see it.
End of day S (that's me)takes her camera and drives down the road and sees the Arc ahead of her. There are several suburban, subdivision,new construction tract houses along the road before the Arc. All of the houses have FOR SALE signs hanging in front of them. S parks her car, grabs the camera and begins walking down the road and into the field where Arc is set. She thinks to herself, I wonder why everyone is selling their house, they don't want to live near a movie site?
S doesn't notice that the real estate signs are unusual, there are no agent names or phone numbers on them, only company names. She doesn't realize that the numerous press vehicles in front of the Arc are certainly not from this locale, the call letters completely foreign. She thought they were doing a news story on the movie being made in their back yard. She really is quite intuitive but she isn't really the one for real time rationales.
S begins taking pictures.
A young, hip looking techie chick (yes I call women chicks sometimes, does this make me a sexist feminist?) with a headset on runs up to S.
I don't want to make an order I said, I am just here to see the arc.
No I didn't but I felt like saying it this time. Where was S? Oh-
TC-(techie chick) Whoa, you can't take pictures!
S- I can't? she says as she places her camera behind her back.
TC- No. What are you doing? This is a movie set; are you an Extra?
S- No, but I'd like to be. I just came to see the Arc. I parked over there and...
TC- You CAN'T PARK THERE!
S- OK, but about being an extra
TC shakes her head and looks at the ground, We do need extras on Monday she says under her breath.
S- Is there somewhere to sign up?
TC sighs and reaches into her back pocket to retrieve a pen and a piece of paper. Call this number she says. Now, get out of here- please.
Here's the short story
Arrive in vineyard at 6:00 am. Get on shuttle bus to Arc site. Several Big Tents set up with plywood floors and banquet tables covered in checkered cloth. Three hundred locals of all colors and ages are gathered. (Well there aren't many people there under 14).Some people act very Hollywood and important roll in making announcements without a microphone and it feels very high school but maybe HS in Hollywood. I sense the tedium of the movie making business. I am sitting with Tom Hanks, we are making fun of Madonna, food fell out of her mouth when she was attempting to say something sexy to Yule Brenner. Waiting.
Waiting for hours to be called to the next tent where we will wait in line for hours to get our costumes assigned. I get to dress like MC Hammer and I am feeling very High School again, because I always wanted to be the leading lady with the pretty dress and the popular guy that wants her but I always got cast as the character actress. I still resent that music teacher, I had talent.
Put costume on in this unseasonably cold Summer morning. Walk down to Arc. Stand some more, wait some more. Now!
-"Here's the scene, this nut moves into your yuppie neighborhood and says that GOd told him there was going to be A FLOOD AND TO BUILD AN aRC AND HE DOES IN YOUR BACK YARDS AND (oops I get so excited) you want to have him arrested because it's not rained forever, it's a drought and all of a sudden, Roll EM!
They are going to computer simulate the rain and the flood waters but we must act like we are running for our lives ONTO the ARC (that's where we hope to find me) but for the shots to look real, (real-unlike the houses which are facades and the news crews which are actors and props) we must all be really soaking wet.
Everyone over to that patch of grass by the road.
Moo- the crowd shuffles
In roll the water cannon concrete trucks. They soak us to the bone at least six times this day. Sometimes we go back to start place while drenched and shivering and wait so long that we have to go and get soaked again. The next day I had a slight fever.
Evan Amazing (I swear this is what they called it then, now it's Almighty) opens in theaters today. I am going to be a big star. Don't worry, I will never forget you, my little blogosphere friends.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
I love to look at everything (except the road)all of the time. I love architecture and trees and just yesterday I was so taken with the white hydrangeas which were co-mingling with various leafy hostas, that I stopped in the merger lane to stare at them long enough to call the attention of a young policeman. He was kind enough to give me a warning and not a ticket.
My brother used to accuse me of looking in my rear view mirror -after- making a lane change. I believe I can feel if someone is behind me. Often the sounds of horns blaring is a good indicator that sometimes I am mistaken.
My mother is blind, I have mentioned this before, I know. Nearly twelve years ago, I went for a visit to her eye specialist to have my eyes examined. I was given a diagnosis of R.P, an eye disease that may eventually lead to blindness.
My compulsive observing behavior kicked into high gear. My constant thoughts: I want to see everything, what if I couldn't see all of these sights and colors and textures? Will I remember them? Would I ever want to paint again? Would I be able to paint if I could not see, what would blindness look like?
A friend sent me an email yesterday, the title-Blind Artist. I'd copy it here but the pictures didn't open up, so I searched the artist. Lisa Fittipaldi. Her story is titled, "A Brush With Darkness."
It seems that she has saved all her images in her mind and can still demonstrate shades of light and dark, color, texture, balance and beauty. Fascinating. Lisa Fittipaldi.com
(I am having trouble linking again, but I am adding her site to my links section)
Friday, June 15, 2007
It's been nearly two years since I have been able to look at the numerous saved Mis- communications between the two of us. It is painful. What she did to my manuscript is beyond negligent, but she continues to blame me. Her grammar on emails was consistent throughout all of our communications. I should have known, she always blamed me and I am now beginning the recovery process from her abuse. Really, the running header of the book titled You Knew Everything; the Day You Were Born reads: You New Everything (seriously)Guess that's my novice fault too.
I had really beautiful and poignant quotes which coincided with each case studies' work, which were meant to go at the beginning of the chapter. Somehow she seemed to think that the end was the beginning and !!!!!!
I was wondering what you published and publishers and writers and professionals out there think about this tiny excerpt of our mis-communications
It would really help me to begin this healing process. Thank you-
PS- you probably want to read from bottom of post to the top
Dear Stacy. One of my authors (Gisi) came over today. I asked her if I was clear as to what I was trying to convey to you. She also has quotes in her book where she had "blank" pages. I showed her what you had written and told her that I thought you were not clear as to what I was doing with the quotes.
Trying to get to the point without sitting with someone and showing them something can be a problem. I was looking at the way you sent me the print out as "This is the way I want this book to be" from you and felt a "demand" rather than suggestion or you not being clear as to what I was doing. Gisi went over the material with me and understood what I was telling her about the quotes. She sat and read some of your stories and was really taken with your book. She told me what it was like for her to be a first time author and how intimidated she was by me. I ask her how I could work with new authors and not be intimidating. She said for me to write down things such as the information about blank pages, what the book buyers like and do not like and have the author read it BEFORE I begin to edit. She also suggested I send the "Rules" of grammar out that I use. Gisi was born and raised in Germany. English is her second language.
So, my experience with you is very helpful to me and will be of a great asset to future authors that we work with. I will not be working with new authors though. Thomas and Rhiannon will be handling all editing and communication in the future. I will only be working with existing authors. I have some major PR projects to set up and I can not work 18 hours a day editing and get all of the PR done, so I have you, Carol, Linnda and Marsha to complete and I am finished editing. So if I have a manual, then everyone will understand.
Thank you, Rhonda
From: STACY SHEER
Date: 11/26/05 18:26:22
Subject: Re: Your quote pages
I am not trying to self publish. The quotes I came up with coincide with each segment of the work. I thought they were a nice introduction to each case study and chapter. I thought they could be inserted on the page before the work, leaving no blank pages. It is not my place to tell you how to format the work. I only want what I think you want, a successful project. Please do what you think is correct. Please keep in mind that the final print will reflect my abilities not yours. You will continue to receive submissions from authors that want to be published, I will probably attempt to have my subsequent works published. It is hard for the throngs of us to knock on your door. I put my faith in you. If I am asking for ludicrous, then so be it. Tell me NO. If you feel you can make the work successful, please feel free to do it however your profession deems necessary. It is what it is. I am trying to demonstrate a widely overlooked facet of hypnosis; the pre-birth regression. The answers to the questions, Who am I, why am here, and what did I come here to learn. I do not wish to ride an ego trip. This is how I felt the quotes went with each persons' work. Please do whatever publishers do, and editors for that case.
I am not angry nor hurt by your comments. It is difficult to work together when we are so far apart. Emails contain ambiguous emotionless comments. Please stay with it, we are very close. I will not object to anything except the few typo- errors such as the reprinting of page 14? Really, I am probably the easiest person to get along with in the entire state of VA.
I meld, lets just get it done and both be happy.
With love, Stacy
You know you have this quote thing backwards. You are putting the quotes that belong the the chapter in FRONT of the next chapter. I will do it the way you want it, but when you get complaints, do not get angry at me. Authors who do not understand about format in publishing that act like they do, get angry at me when the people in the know criticize their book.
I am at page 80. You are losing 1/2 of your quotes as you want them to go on pages that DO NOT exist. Somehow, when you printed out the book, you ended up with a lot of black pages after the chapters that ARE NOT there. You keep saying, "move this to the next page." There is NO next page most of the time. I took the quotes off as you requested, but there will be no quote.
The bookstore buyers DO NOT LIKE a lot of blank pages. I set up chapters to begin at the odd page. Thus, if a preceding chapter does not finish at the even page, I add a quote. That is the ONLY reason and place I put quotes. You seem to think there is to be a quote page BEHIND each chapter.
First of all, they are NOT suppose to be BEHIND the chapter if you make a quote page. The quote page sets the the chapter, sort of like an introduction thought. It is not a summary.
I have put in 5 hours making all of these changes today. I think you had better sit down, open up the book in your PDF and click on view. Click on facing. Change your sizing to 50%. Then click through your book by placing your arrow on the right side and clicking through your book.
I have make the editing changes that we needed up to know. But I am going to stop working on your book and let you get a grasp as to what you are asking me to do. You are wrong! And I need to let you know and give you a change to think about it. I have spent at least 80 hours editing and setting up your book. I am investing thousands of dollars for your book. I am not interested in doing a "Self-published" work out there that no bookstore buyers will purchase.
Please note: I am not angry. This is what I get when I take one first time authors. I do not know any better way to tell you what is needed other than begin direct and giving information. Good luck, Rhonda
Thursday, June 14, 2007
After several years of scratching their heads (as well as other body parts) in order to come up with some venue to attract tourism to our decrepit , depressed, little town to no avail; a natural geyser has been discovered.
Grab your cameras and rush on over to the majestic glory of Scottsville.
(Can you see the poor guy in the hole trying to put a coupler on the geyser? Forty minutes, what a spectacle.)
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Saturday, June 09, 2007
As he was leaving, I said good bye. He croaked in response.
My oldest son Wiley included the Molk- troll (for remote control) car on his Christmas list when he was five. He also asked me to buy Christ- Crispies at the grocery store that year and later said all he wanted for Christmas was a fruit basket.
The same year his younger brother Avi asked for a bow tie for Christmas and constantly asked me to check his head for head-lites.
Kids say the funniest things.
Some kids get into their twenties and they still have that flair with words.
Slow at work today, penance for being prodigal this week.
I call Avi.
What are you up to I ask
Working on becoming more of a sociopath mother, thank you for asking.
At least he said thank you
Later I see him in front of his computer. Will you still be my friend I ask.
He says his back is sore and that he doesn't think he is interested in being my friend, now that all of this has happened.
Ok, so I was feeling a little guilty. Two days ago, we packed a little overnight bag. Well, maybe it was a big one. Sheets, pillows, three changes of underwear, medications, shampoo, bathing suits, two bottles of wine, one liter of vodka. You know, the basics for an overnight. We went to Richmond (an hour away)to see Big Head Todd and the Monsters.
They were playing on Thursday night in a botanical garden. Beautiful.
Yes, I missed work on Thursday, technically speaking. I was there for three hours. I put a note on the door. It read, "Got a date with BHT and the Monsters (but I wrote it all out)Be back Friday at 1:00" and then we hit the road.
I made it back to the shop by 2:00 the next day, but I forgot my keys and decided to call it a day and go on home.
We stayed at our friend's house just outside an idyllic crack neighborhood. She told us to bring swim suits in case we wanted to jump in the pool. This thought made me happy. It was lovely, even if it was inflatable.
A few more drinks, a quick sandwich and into the garden to groove.
Three nights prior to this show, BHT and the M's played to thousands of people at Red Rocks arena. I am sure there were barricades and cops and the security thing that we always see at the large stadiums.
Thursday night, no barriers on a grassy hillside in a bucolic garden. A little stream flowing into a pond surrounded by exotic lilies, grasses and trees. A stage set up under a tent, in front of a stone pavilion. Beautiful sunset, hot summer night less than 500 people.
Only Tate and me dance, he starts to get nervous. Too many eyes watching us and not our favorite band (we have many favorites). I don't care, we dance some more. I kick off my favorite black sandals and careen out of control again. This band and many others have this effect on me. I step across a tiny stone path and dance onto the stage. Todd is so smooth, he smiles at me a most genuine dance smile. I get to dance for nearly the entire song, then one of the stage crew directs me off by coming into view and pointing. I obliged.
I looked around at the crowd on the grassy hillside, everyone was dancing now. We broke the ice.
Last summer this band played in a local arena, the stage is 7 feet high. Tate lifted me up and put me on stage to dance with Big Head Todd. Within a minute or so, a stage hand came out from the back to beat me over the head with a club, so I thought. I jumped off the stage like a punk crowd surfer and luckily Tate caught me before I ended up face down in the concrete. He really must love me.
The band plays an amazing show, they showcase some of their new stuff and play the classic favs. They sign autographs and meet the fans at a little tent after the show. I bought a mauve-red wife beater tee with their logo. Todd signed my shirt while I wore it. I told him how much we love their music and that I was the crazy person who got thrown off the stage last year in Charlottesville.
He said he admires my balls. How about that.
After the show, completely delirious and hungry. We go to a local pub which serves great booze and ok food.
I search the floorboard of the truck for my sandals, to no avail. I seem to have lost my favorite black sandals somewhere in the garden.
That my friends is a black form of transportation(my shoes)telling me that I am a bit out of control and they are not going to be my friend anymore, after the way I endangered them and everything.
I'm going to miss my sandals.
Bitter- sweet -surrender
FYI: This might just be the very worst tongue in cheek dream interpretation ever, but it was fun for me.
Big Head Todd and. . .
I told Dad the story about Billy Bob (our 100 plus pound Mutt with the temperament and face of a teddy bear)and the giant black snake AND the spotted fawn in one day incident. After I ended the heroic, saved by our dissident dog story with this statement; "What would I ever do without that dog, he's so my hero".
"I have bad news. Caleb has cancer and he's going to die. (Caleb translates as brother in Hebrew. He is my dad's ADHD Retriever).
Tate: You've already told me this story three times.
Me: I did?
I think I might need to start keeping a diary.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Thanks good people!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
I think most of you all know that I live in the country. We have a few rituals in the rural setting that may be unheard of to some of you city folks (and I know you aren't all city peoples either). When you pass a car while either driving or walking, you wave. There is the head nod, the finger wave, the full hand parade wave and there is also the delayed finger wave that I often implement due to the old road hypnosis thing which people sometimes assume is my rudeness, but people shouldn't make assumptions.
A few weeks ago, I found the "Plagues of Passover " finger puppets at a local store. Passover had ended and they were on sale. I could not resist.
Buzz Lightyear hangs from my rear view mirror; his motto "To infinity and beyond".
I love Buzz.
Each week I pull a plague out of a sack and stretch it over Buzz's legs. He battles locusts, hail, lice, blood, first born, cattle, drought, frogs-yes frogs (hilarious), and the others during the entire week.
Sometimes I put the weekly plague on my index finger as I drive home, just in case I see any bad people on the road. If I see them I will be sure to give the old finger wave on time, but this is not why I need your help.
If you have a house in the country, and it doesn't really have to be a ranch or a grand estate, you give it a name.
I built my mini estate on seven raw acres of mountain land on top of a hill seven years ago. As I was in the process of building and land clearing the Luna Moths were everywhere. It was kind of magical (they've since dwindled in numbers).
I named the place "Sheer Luna-See" and I painted a sign with a giant Luna moth and set it at the end of the drive.
Here's where I could use some help: Two years after the house was completed, Tate moved in. I got tired of the Luna-see in my past. Tate is not a Sheer and he is currently a major contributor to the place's beauty and he is also an owner, I painted over the old sign and it is now a blank slate and we cannot agree on the right new name for our home.
He likes "Cock's Lair"- I do not like being stalked.
I like "Crow's Dance" - he rolls his eyes a bit and crows are hard for me to paint.
I am thinking "Dunadd Hill"- in the year 632 A.D. in Dunadd Scotland (the ancient name no longer applies to the region)- Tate and I were married and it was quite lovely, until that battle, but I digress again. I have become aware of several lifetimes where we were together but only in that place have I experienced us being together as lovers.
I am to paint the sign tomorrow. Ancient hill forts are easy to paint.
What do you think?
PS-cock's lair is out of the question.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Two and a half hours
watching for the mail to arrive, under a shade tree in some strangers driveway
Supposed to be at other job today, another one I work alone
I won't get fired, but I won't make any money either
Trying to keep the guilty worthless speech from playing in my head, again.
He needs that medicine, it comes in the mail
If he doesn't have it, meltdowns are inevitable
He's been out since yesterday
Rednecks cursing at the baby in the laundromat across the street
"Git yure ass in dare"
Loud Fat Momma and greasy tattooed convict Deaady
leave little toddler behind the glass door with Granny
and drive away
Baby animal screams like fire engine sirens
and collapses on the dusty laundromat floor.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
One that I would be able to plant flowers around and still be there to watch them bloom. A house that no-one would tell me what colors I could or could not paint.A house where I was my landlord, and I could tell me what to do and that would be a-okay.
During the first eleven years of single motherhood, my sons and I moved approximately twenty two times. Moving/vacation. I would pack the car with every necessary object that would fit, a few toys, clothes, blankets etc. Never furniture, we always left the salvaged stuff behind. The three person tent would go too and the mini coffee maker. These moves were our camping trips, our vacations.
Hey, let's go to visit Uncle B.- across the country, I'd say.
Taking everything we could fit, camping out under the stars, going to movie theaters in cities we don't know the names of, never seeing our school friends in the theater, strangers on our own stage.
Collecting rocks that look like potatoes in this state, petrified wood from that one. Swimming, soccer balls, soaking in hot springs, seeing buffalo and thinking they were boulders, until we yelled at them, and they began to move toward us, bad idea.
Seashell and rock collection on the 78 Jeep Wagoneer dashboard, purple and blue colored curtains in the back and gun racks with two enormous Super-Soaker 2oo, water guns affixed to them.
What a trip, moving/vacations.
Where have these past two weeks gone?
First semester off in over two years, summers included;
Playing like a school kid on summer vacation; pool party, river trips, reading novels on the hammock, live music under the tent at the crawdad boil, spicy.
and in the evening
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
I have to work- I said.
You own your business mom.
Oh yeah, but I have Kramer to take care of.
Tell Tate we are taking you for Mother's day and ask him to please take him that day.
Last night- Hey Tate, I need you to take care of Kramer for me on Monday.
Is that right, why?
The boys are taking me somewhere that day.
I am pretty sure there are few places they could take you where that well behaved puppy isn't welcome.
Yeah but, he's not tall enough to get on the roller coaster.
Oh I see. As long as it's something that important, leave him inside and I guess I can get home early.
He's so understanding.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
See ya, that's all I want to say.
I had the strangest compulsion to dress like a lesbian today, if there is such a way of dressing. Actually I feel more like a Chollo chick, but I think they are also an ungodly perverse group, so I guess it's okay.
When you think about the laws of the universe, one would think that anyone who preached the ignorant, pious crap that Falwell did would be treated with little respect, but he had a following of millions, he founded Universities and created the "Moral Majority".
a: of or relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior : perceptual or psychological rather than tangible or practical in nature or effect.
Majority:1)obsolete : the quality or state of being greater 2 a: the age at which full civil rights are accorded b: the status of one who has attained this age
It may be a bit cliche' but apparently true by it's very definition, "The Moral Majority is Neither"
Also apparent is this thought; the Third Reich by another name could also be called the Moral majority now couldn't they.
When will society ever learn that it is immoral to believe in superiority and separation ? Why is one form of oppression viewed as moral and right while another is viewed as plain old racism and fascism?
I'm hangin with my feminist,jewish, lesbian, chollo girl attitudes today and I am no better or worse than anyone for it.